#I’m just trying to decide if I should make them a thing or not

[alleiwentcrazy]

“Wait,” Steve propped himself on his elbow, getting into a half-lying, half-sitting up position, “you’d do that for me?”

“Yeah man,” Eddie replied. He shimmied a little bit closer to the middle of the mattress and snuggled to his pillow. His eyebrows furrowed as he yawned. “I mean, I kind of did that already, didn’t I?”

Steve just kept on looking at him, stunned. It felt so strange to be cared for; to be remembered, known. He’d never had been, not like that—with Robin, sure, but that was different. He’d never felt like that with Nancy. With anyone. He hadn’t had to try and make out someone’s silhouette in the darkness, just to read their face and decide whether they were just selfless and nice or doing something for him. Truly for him, for the sake of doing it for him. It had never been an issue, because there had never been anyone about whom he’d had to wonder things like that. It had always been an exchange of sorts in this context.

But not with Eddie.

Steve’s head started to spin.

“Honestly I can’t wait for you to see it. You know she’s not really my type, but even I can see how fucking cool this car is. It felt a little like tuning my guitar or—”

Steve didn’t even register it when he reached for Eddie’s face, his consciousness wasn’t in the room when he lowered himself down and sank even closer to the boy who’d put his heart in a wrench. He just kissed him, and when he did – momentarily, it was a complete bliss. As long as his lips were gently pressed to Eddie’s, no matter how hard his heart was beating, it felt like he would be okay after all. Nothing else was important; he was kissing Eddie. He felt warm and cared for; he was kissing Eddie. 

Eddie.

Steve felt a finger hook at the rim of his shirt, he felt himself being pulled closer.

The panic came approximately three seconds later.

Their lips parted with the softest tsk, but Steve heard it several times louder. His senses were screaming at him, all alarms set off; the smell of Eddie’s shampoo lingered around his face, the sensation of chapped lips lingered against his, his fingers were tingling where they came in contact with Eddie’s slightest stubble.

It was curious how much Eddie reminded him of a cat at that moment. He was rigid, but ready to spring into action whenever, and his eyes were ridiculously big, almost fluorescent in the dim moonlight that was seeping through the trailer’s curtains. The longer Steve looked into those eyes, the more he felt like he might have fucked up. Bad.

“Should I—I should, I mean I…” He trailed off, getting a little further away from Eddie with every word. “I should, yeah, probably. Go.”

He practically jumped out of the bed, and it pained him how cold it was without Eddie close to him. He’d gotten so used to sleeping here, just sleeping, whenever Wayne was out and no uncomfortable questions would be asked, so that they both could feel a little less alone.

“I’ll take the van, we’ll exchange cars later today, alright?” Steve looked for his change of clothes in the darkness. They were, as usual, neatly stacked in his designated space at Eddie’s desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I mean, I did, but I’m, uh. I’m…” He trailed off, his cheeks getting embarrassingly hot and pink, he supposed, even though he couldn’t see himself in the mirror.

It felt wrong to say he was sorry. He was, obviously, he just kissed Eddie out of nowhere, but it didn’t feel like a mistake. His lips were still warm. He wanted to purse them tightly to keep the memory of Eddie’s lips on his firmly in place.

“We should do it again.”

Steve froze.

“What?”

He turned back towards the bed. It was much easier to make out Eddie’s form now. He was sitting up, chewing his thumbnail, his eyes barely flickering to Steve. His hair stood out against the white-ish wall and Eddie’s gray T-shirt. The waves were quite disheveled, but still cascaded beautifully over his shoulders.

Damn, Steven.

“We should do it again. If you’re not sure, we should do it again.”

Not sure about what? Steve did not dare ask. Eddie looked so nervous, maybe even more nervous than Steve felt. Both of their breaths were coming short now, as if they’d just run a marathon.

Apprehensively, Steve sat back down on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped underneath him and he swayed a bit forward.

“We should kiss. Again?” That really was what it was, right?

Eddie nodded his head quickly. Steve’s breath hitched when the smell of Eddie’s shampoo reached his nose once again.

There were very few thoughts in Steve’s head. There was just Eddie, right in front of him, chewing his nail, nodding away. Wanting to kiss him, again, having been kissed once already. Steve was confused and more than a little queasy, but his willpower wasn’t quite strong enough to get him questioning things.

“Okay,” he mumbled. Eddie finally looked at him, lowered his hand to his lap and nodded.

Some sort of nervous sound rumbled in the back of Steve’s throat. Okay. It was okay. He leaned in—and Eddie leaned in at the same time. Warm breath tickled Steve’s lips, and he stopped just before meeting Eddie half-way.

“Are you su—”

Eddie was kissing him before the sentence got out of his mouth in its entirety. Really kissing him, not just pressing their lips together, kissing him, still incredibly stiff and distanced, but kissing him. Oh, with something more than just curiosity, Steve could tell. He let out one heavy breath through his nose and felt Eddie relax right away with him. Their lips were in perfect harmony; Steve’s chest tightened. His stomach felt heavy and full and squirmy and for some reason Steve had never felt better than in this moment, even though his eyes stung and he could barely breathe.

His hands acted on their own accord, one settling on Eddie’s shoulder, the other on his cheek, keeping him close, closer, closer still.

Their lips parted. Steve felt the loss immediately.

“I’m gonna…” Eddie whispered huskily, untangling his legs from the cover and shifting his position. It was funny how one of his knees kind of hovered over Steve’s lap in silent question – it was even funnier how long it took Steve to process that.

“Yeah, feel free, please.”

What the fuck, Steven.

Eddie straddled his lap and leaned right back for another kiss, pressing their chests together. Their hearts kept thump thump thumping loudly against their chests, and Steve was kind of actively losing his mind over that. Eddie, in his gray T-shirt and stupid plaid shorts, was straddling his lap, kissing him, making him believe that he had the whole world in the palm of his hand. Was it even real? Could Steve touch him? Would it really be alright? He laid his hand on Eddie’s thigh, feeling hair and goosebumps underneath his fingers. Another conclusion from that night: Eddie was hot. Steve kissed him harder, and he reciprocated, grabbing Steve’s neck.

Steve had no idea for how long they had been kissing, until Eddie swayed dangerously close to the edge of the bed and Steve’s neck started to hurt. It wasn’t nearly enough, but that was it.

For now, hopefully.

“It’s getting late,” he mumbled against Eddie’s lips, “and you’ve got to be at the shop at 8 sharp tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said and stole one more peck. “You wanna sleep?”

Fuck me if I can, Steve thought, but nodded yes.

“But let’s talk tomorrow? Okay?”

Eddie’s hands were still cupping his cheeks. His lips seemed sleek and shiny, shinier than his eyes, even.

“We must,” he replied. They both nodded. For some reason Steve’s heart started beating even faster now.

Eddie scrambled from his lap, cleared his throat and rearranged the covers, getting back into his favourite position. Steve followed suit. The gap between them seemed enormous and immediately got filled with anxious energy.

Steve reached between them hesitantly. For a few seconds his hand just lay there, empty and suddenly very cold. Eddie’s open palm touched his. He let out a big breath.

They would figure it out. For sure. Tomorrow.

[asnowperson]

Takemiya Keiko interview about Kazeki OVA (1987)

Here's another short interview from platypus's stack of old magazines with cool interviews: Takemiya Keiko talks about Kaze to Ki no Uta Sanctus: Sei Naru Kana in the 1987 December issue of Puff.

Translation is under the cut, and please let me know if you spot my mistakes.

Kaze to Ki no Uta – OVA is finally on sale!

Takemiya Keiko Interview

“It will not ruin your image of the work, so please watch it!”

Let us first hear your thoughts on finishing this project.

Mr. Yoshikazu was sitting at the director’s chair. That alone assured me that everything would go smoothly, and I left everything to him. He read the manga thoroughly and gave the work his own interpretation. I had nothing to worry about. I didn’t have to ask him not to do a certain part in a certain way, or to avoid including too many “risqué” scenes. I can feel that he gave the work the treatment it deserves. Even the animation style was not too flashy and anime-like. The movements were more orthodox. Everything worked out perfectly, so I have nothing to say.

The background art was amazing. Did you ask them to draw them that way?

Both Mr. Yoshikazu and I thought that she’d be a  good fit, and suggested having the same person who was the art director for “Natsu e no Tobira”, but we couldn’t get a hold of her. We found out the reason later: The producer thought she was too slow, and we should give up on working with her (laughs). But when we said that she was the only person who could draw the backgrounds, she was hired to work in the project. However, she was too late to turn in the drafts. We really were in a tight spot. She might have been slow, but she really is an artist. When she can’t draw something, she just can’t. She gave it her all… Even though it was something that’d only be on screen for two seconds… If we couldn’t ask them to do something, I said I should go ahead and do it myself.

So, I gather that you drew some key animation yourself. Are manga and anime too different to draw for?

Both mediums are used basically to capture “movement,” so I think they are the same. You go with the flow, trying to capture “movement”… You think about how original you can express it. That’s a really fun undertaking. For example, even if it’s just a scene of a character turning to look back, if you strive to give it a little touch, you can really bring out an erotic feeling. That’s the stuff I’m talking about. If I had a lot of money, I would dabble more in in-between animation. I now understand why Otomo Katsuhiro-san was so obsessed with it (laughs).

I’ve seen the OVA. It felt like reading one of your works.

Do you think so? I didn’t ask him to do it, but to keep close to the atmosphere of the original work, Mr. Yoshikazu outlined the key points. He put the same things as my drawings in those scenes. But if you looked closely, you could tell that they were different. When I saw the whole thing, I thought “wow, it’s the same!” However, upon closer inspection, I found out that such scenes did not exist in the original. I even thought maybe something was wrong with me. The same also goes for the lines. “Did he ever say that? He might have said that…” But when I re-read, I see that no such line was uttered. I had so many moments like that.

What was the fans’ reaction to this OVA adaptation?

When I said it was happening, I received an equal amount of positive and negative reactions. Well, that’s only to be expected. So, like I thought, only when I said that Mr. Yoshikazu was the one directing it, I saw the real opposition. The animation director was decided on, but the VAs weren’t cast yet. When news of the production got out, I received letters saying “it’s too late, I give up!” (laughs) They said stuff like, “Here we are, so against this idea, but you still say that you’ll do it! I don’t care anymore!” I can say that there are people who definitely won’t watch it. It makes me happy to see the work being loved that much, but when people are that obsessed with it… It’s kind of scary. I sometimes go as far not seeing it as something I myself created. But well, there are still a lot of people who say “I might cry and whine, but I’ll still watch it.”

Can we have Ms.Takemiya, the creator herself, do some advertisement for the OVA?

The OVA didn’t embarrass me, so I’ll keep promoting it. I don’t think it’ll ruin your image of the work. But I know that there are people who are too nitpicky and say stuff like the lines of a character’s profile is kind of off and they hate it, or that their legs are too thin  or that their feet look weird (laughs). In that sense, we paid extra attention to the movement itself and tried to animate the characters in a natural manner. “The Poem of the Wind and the Trees” makes you think of subtle movements, right? We can’t have them move too briskly, and even the fight scene is nothing too serious. Because Mr. Yoshikazu didn’t want to create too vivid of a scene. Rather, he didn’t want it to stink of “masculinity” that much. And people who’ve only seen the character designs might think that they look nothing like the manga, but when they are in motion, they do look like their manga counterparts. As for the voice of the characters, I don’t know the actress of Gilbert, but we have Nobita-kun for Serge (laughs)! People who are into anime will recognize her voice, so they might be a little bit of put off by that, but she doesn’t sound like Nobita-kun here. Not at all! The more you listen to her acting, the more you enjoy it! There are parts that reflect Serge’s character, so I’m really content with the result.

Can we consider this as “episode 1” of a series? Do you have plans for a continuation?

If this OVA sells, it might happen. If this one gets a positive reaction, I think we can make another one. The producer said that’s what he thought would happen. If you ask Mr. Yoshikazu, he says it’ll be at least 6 episodes long, but I doubt that. I can’t bring myself to believe that we can make that many episodes. Anyway, to think that we won’t be working with the staff who brought it to life with such resemblance feels so sad. But I also think that if we ask them to do it again, they’ll simply run away (laughs). We’ve already done Yoshikazu-san’s favorite part right off the bat, so what remains is the hard part. He says he can’t decipher a character like Augu (laughs). Maybe another director might do better.

And what about the future of the story in manga?

There’s the stuff about marriage and children problems, how to reach enlightenment, and everything in-between until Serge’s death. But even if I drew that, that would have no meaning for people who are only here for what Gilbert and Serge had (laughs). I don’t have any plans to draw any continuation for the moment, but one day, if I ever get the chance… If the are conditions right, I think I’d like to draw it.

Can we have your final message for Puff readers?

Watch the OVA. Please do it. I believe that if you watch it once, all of your worries will be washed away.

[waifuoftomonori]

Okay, I’ve answered most of these in other posts already, but I’ll go ahead and answer the ones I haven’t. (I’m not sure if this is the usual way to do this, but I doubt anyone’s gonna send me asks and I want to answer the questions anyway.) 1. N/A - no other fictional character brings me nearly as much joy, comfort, or lust as Tomonori of Scarlet Fate

2. Well, when I was a kid, I had a major crush on Farid from Inkheart, if that counts. I haven’t read those books in ages, so he is no longer a blorbo for me, and considering he’s a kid, I don’t know if he would still be if I reread those books. I feel like I might sympathize more with the author, or maybe even get a crush on— what was his name, Dustfinger?— the grown-up thief. …Anyway, due to that combined with the portrayal of certain characters in The Thief Lord, I blame Cornelia Funke for my lifelong obsession with rogues.

3. see my post about the moment of blorbo-ization

4. I have to pick just one? Oh, man. Okay, as impressive and sexy as Tomonori’s composure in the face of various threats is, from a snarling beefy monk to various gods/demons who want to end the world, my favorite thing about him has to be the world-altering potential of his unspoken but deeply passionate love for Shiki. This man was equally willing to cause the apocalypse or save the world for her. That is a choice he canonically laid at her feet. I’ve seen “I’ll end the world in your name / out of love for you” a few times before, and I’ve seen “I’ll save the world for you / because you’re in it” a few times, but this might be the first and only time I’ve seen a character who’s absolutely willing to do either. Who puts his personal opinion of whether the world should continue or end secondary to the opinion of the person he loves, even when he has the power to do either, and gives her that choice instead. That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen a character do in fiction.

5. Do I dislike anything about him? Other than things the writers didn’t fully explain, like whoever decided the role he should play in Gentoka’s route, no. It’s not that I think he’s flawless, but his pettiness and stubbornness and (only sometimes necessary) secretive tendencies and all of that are endearing to me.

6. Uh, I don’t know. The writer in me would be dying to show him my fanfiction and ask, “How would you act if you were in this situation?” or “Is this something you think you would say? How would you change it?” about a million places in the work, but as a person I think that might make him uncomfortable, especially if it came out of nowhere. I do “talk to him” a lot in my journals, and my version of him answers back. We’ve had whole conversations. He can’t seem to stop calling me “Shiki” though; it feels incredibly awkward to have him use my real name for some reason.

7. There’s a fandom other than me? Like, a fandom with collective opinions and stuff? I had no idea.

8. Introvert who’s learned how to read people and interact with them in formal contexts out of necessity. He’ll paste on a smile and say all the right things in public, but if given the choice he’d rather be at home reading.

9. calm, devious, romantic

10. If he’s trying to protect me, yes, absolutely. If that’s not a guarantee and Shiki and Akifusa also exist in this world (mostly Shiki, he’s not quite as protective of Akifusa, who to be fair doesn’t need it from physical threats as much), then I’ll trust him to protect me as long as it doesn’t interfere with their lives or safety.

11. Yup. So many fanfics. Still writing them, in fact.

12. Yeah, my mom, dad, and stepdad all know about him and the extent of my obsession with him. I’d probably gush about him to my brothers more if they were home more often or showed even a trace of interest.

13. Anything I could feasibly see him doing? No. But then I guess if he committed an act that would severely change my opinion of him, he wouldn’t be the same character, would he? So maybe that’s the whole point of the question. …Uh, sorry for clarifying all that. I guess if he raped someone, that would change things.

14. Again: there’s a fandom? Never had that problem. But even if I did, I don’t think I would distance myself from the character, just from the other people. Or if I’d grown close with them, I’d just ask them to stop talking about the character with me, and I’d do the same with them. We’re allowed to have different opinions, but I shouldn’t have to hear them dissing my favorite character if I don’t want to, and I’d hope they would respect that as my friends.

15. Big fandom problems, not mine.

16. Define “canonically”.

17. Hell no. Look, not all writers are sadists who want to see characters suffer. When I do make him suffer, it’s because the story compels me to, or else there wouldn’t be interesting conflict for him (and usually Shiki and/or Akifusa as well) to eventually overcome.

18. Yes. With Shiki and Akifusa, as is doubtless abundantly clear by this point.

19. Short, smartass, scheming, morally complex men who are passionately in love with one woman for the vast majority of their lives. (Or man; I wouldn’t mind reading a gay version of this, I just haven’t found one yet.) Alternate type: thieves, rogues, bandits, cutpurses, pickpockets, footpads, maybe assassins in extreme cases. If the two “types” are combined in one character, so much the better. Also, on a list of fictional characters I find attractive, 4 of the… 20-ish have red eyes, and two of those four are ostensibly human.

20. N/A. …Or, I guess, no. Depending on how one defines “blorbo”. I have favorite characters (and ships) from other works of media, characters and ships of whom I prefer to read fanfiction over fanfiction of any other characters or ships, but I don’t get excited about them the same way I do about Tomonori.

21. N/A

22. I don’t know. I want to say yes, but if he were real I’d feel uncomfortable writing fanfiction about him, since I don’t do RPF. And although I adored him as a character in canon, I think it was through the fanfiction I wrote after that I grew to love him and all his many facets on a deeper level. But I guess if he were real, he’d be dead since he lived in the Heian era, so maybe I wouldn’t have that problem. But I dunno, then I’d have to do even more historical research, and that’s just a pain in the ass. I’d probably still admire him, though.

23. He’s a victim of 1. Gentoka’s route; 2. not appearing in the CD Drama official art that showed the 5 “main” love interests shirtless but apparently Tomonori didn’t matter enough to the writers for that; 3. not getting a nice yukata in the summer festival stories despite the fact that fuckin’ Akifusa got one and from goddess lady’s perspective I would think Tomonori would seem more important and thus more deserving of one, but again, apparently the writers and/or artists didn’t care enough about Tomonori for that; 4. not getting any additional “autumn” stories; and 5. not getting a sequel story. …If anyone does happen to have information that the people in charge of Scarlet Fate released extra bonus stories and/or official art of him wearing anything other than that kimono (or the school uniform for the high school AU CD Drama, but that doesn’t count because it’s not canon and they did it wrong anyway, Shiki should obviously have been childhood friends with Akifusa and Tomonori too, not just some rando girl they instantly crushed on at first sight— leave that to the other love interests)— please let me know, and let me know where I can read or see it.

24. hmmm. I don’t want to change anything. But if I had to? Let’s make him even shorter. Like, 5’0” or something. Even shorter than Shiki.

25. I’m pretty sure they used him in the Scarlet Fate+ app to introduce the player to the game, but of course at that time I didn’t realize who he was. How did I first discover that app? I was playing a bunch of similar otome at the time— well, similar in the sense that you’d spend some version of stamina to read stories for free 5 times a day, or you could pay once to gain access to the full story. I think I gave up on Scarlet Fate+ because it’s really not the kind of story that’s ideally read in small fragments like that, but later I returned to the paid version, bought it, and thoroughly enjoyed Akifusa’s route. (After reading Gentoka’s, which was kinda meh— and I have the problem with it I mentioned above, although I didn’t have that problem at the time because Gentoka’s route is lacking in Tomonori lore so I didn’t have the full context— but helped me realize Shiki’s a badass, and I liked it enough that I wanted to read about other characters. …Anyway, I read Akifusa’s next because Akifusa made me laugh, and I’ve found that’s usually a good sign I’ll enjoy an otome character’s route. Often that character will end up being my favorite. In this case, I fell in love with his best friend instead. Sorry, Akifusa. Look on the bright side, you’re one of the characters I ship with him.) 26. Definitely not. This sounds terrible to admit now, but at the time I thought he was just a tutorial character who they only included because he had a pretty face. Even after you get to see little hints of his personality in the game, I still had no clue. I think the first premonition I had that he might be a more interesting character than I gave him credit for was how he dealt with the “trolley problem” in Akifusa’s route. Possibly.

27. Of course I want more people to know about him. It’s tiring having to explain who he is every time. I joked about making an informational PowerPoint once, but I might seriously consider doing that.

28. Yes. Not for any reason to do with Tomonori specifically, but I have been attacked online for the mere fact that he is a fictional character and I’m obsessing over him. I think I made a post about that too.

29. I’m the only creator of fanfics about him that I know. No, my own fanfiction has not made me cry. It has moved me emotionally on occasion, but not to the point of tears.

30. It’s been six years so far. What’s another three? Sure.

BLORBO ASKS GAME

reblog if you’d like people to send you asks about your Blorbo

who’s the Blorbo that you’ve never posted about on your blog?

who was your first ever Blorbo, who was your childhood Blorbo, and are they still your Blorbo?

was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made this character your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you?

what’s the thing you love the most about your Blorbo?

what’s the thing you dislike the most about your Blorbo?

if you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them?

what’s the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo?

is your Blorbo an introvert or extrovert?

describe your Blorbo in 3 words

if your Blorbo were real, would you trust them with your life?

have you ever written a fanfic about your Blorbo?

do you talk to your family or in-real-life friends about your Blorbo?

is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely?

have you ever distanced yourself from your Blorbo / have you ever left a fandom because people in the fandom were being too toxic?

have you ever gotten involved in ship wars?

is your Blorbo canonically alive?

do you like seeing your Blorbo suffer?

do you ship your Blorbo with any character?

when it comes to Blorbos, do you have a type?

if you have more than one Blorbo, do you love them all equally?

if your Blorbo is from a live-action media, are you also a fan of the actor who plays them?

would you still love your Blorbo if they were real?

is your Blorbo a victim of badly written script / bad plot / character assassination in the hands of canon?

if you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be?

how did you first discover your Blorbo?

when you first discovered your Blorbo, did you realize from that moment that they would become your Blorbo?

do you gatekeep your Blorbo? / would you want more people to know about your Blorbo?

have you ever been attacked online just because you liked your Blorbo?

has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry?

do you think this character will still be your Blorbo three years from now on?

[jjscrybaby]

jj maybank x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (bad parents, mentions of weed, sad!reader, not written overly well bc i was sad)

this is depressing as hell i’m sorry… also very self indulgent. i’m an oversharer idc, the main reason i haven’t been posting a lot recently is because my home life isn’t going too well with my step dad, but at half 2 in the morning this is what my brain came up with to make myself feel better so enjoy

One thing the Pogues understood more than most was dysfunctional families. There was Kie, who’s parents cared more about their reputation than their daughter, John B, who’s mother had left when he was three and his dad was so invested in finding treasure it got him killed. Sarah’s family life made everyone’s heads spin, at this point it was a taboo subject that only came up once she’d had one too many cocktails, Pope was lucky to have parents that cared for him but there were still times he wasn’t happy at home.

JJ’s dad was the worst man you’d ever met, you may be biased because anyone treating your boyfriend like that would put them in your most hated book but everyone on the island could agree that Luke Maybank should never have become a father. Your family life was the same. Tragic, hurtful and heartbreaking. You and your mom used to be close, but after she met your step father things changed. She fell in love, you couldn’t blame her for that, what you could blame was the fact she’d allow a man to treat her child like a speck of dirt on his shoe. It was never physical, maybe that was why you were yet to tell JJ and the others just how badly it was effecting you; it didn’t seem necessary.

Everyday your closest friends would have to deal with the reminders of the parents they’d been stuck with. You didn’t want to be that person. The one that made it about themselves, the one that bummed everyone out.

You were trying to keep a brave face on, after the fifth argument of the week with the devil himself you’d stormed out of your house and made your way over to the Chateau. Tears brimmed your eyeline, and you knew even one joke-gone-wrong could send you into a ball on the floor. But you couldn’t stay in that house any longer, not with him and not with your spineless mother.

“There she is!” Sarah beamed as you rounded the corner of the Chateau, a strained smile on your face. You’d texted them to let them know you were coming, you felt you owed that at least.

“Hey,” you greeted, voice unnatural from the way you were holding in your tears.

JJ patted his knee, indicating for you to take a seat around the fire with the rest of them. You sat, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hi,” you murmured back, playing with a piece of his hair to try and distract yourself.

You didn’t speak much as the others carried on with their conversation, catching you up on the topic as they passed a joint around the circle. JJ offered it to you but you shook your head, you needed to have control over your body; over your mouth more like. The last thing you wanted to do was blurt out how miserable you were and ruin the atmosphere.

Slowly but surely, everyone but you and JJ retreated inside. Sarah could never handle her weed, she was already half asleep when John B picked her up to take her to bed. Kie was in one of her mellow moods, wanting to be away from everyone to think. Pope wasn’t quite as in a state as Sarah, but he’d decided he was ready for his own bed so he headed back home. That left just you and JJ, that was what you’d been dreading. If he had even an inkling something was going on, he’d be able to get it out of you. He had a way with words, especially when it came to the people he cared about.

“What made you change your mind ‘bout coming?” JJ asked, leaning back on the couch that you now sat beside him on.

“Can’t a girl miss her boyfriend?” You teased, making him smirk back at you.

“Always, baby. Just thought you and your mama were havin’ a movie night,” he explained. The topic made your jaw clench and your stomach drop. The reason for the argument tonight: you and your mom had planned to watch a movie together, something you hadn’t done in a weirdly long time, but of course your step dad had wanted to watch the tv. You’d tried to calmly explain that it was just a couple hours, all that had lead to was screaming and accusing.

“Yeah, uh, change of plans,” you croaked out, blinking rapidly to try and force the tears away.

His smirk faded as he looked at you, instantly noticing the water in your eyes and the way your smile looked like it was physically hurting your face. “Yeah? What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter. You want to go inside? I could do with a shower,” you sniffled, trying your hardest to change the subject.

“What’s going on?” JJ asked softly, hand coming up to cup your cheek. You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly as you shook your head.

“It doesn’t matter,” you repeated.

“Clearly it does. C’mon, talk to me, please. You’re upset,” he murmured, moving closer. His other hand moved to your waist, stroking your skin softly.

You opened your eyes, the dam broke and tears began to roll down your cheeks. The worry in his eyes doubled as he saw you crying, hold on you tightening as he tried to wipe them away. “I hate it there,” you sobbed.

“Hey, hey, hate it where? Hate it where, baby?” He worried as you began to cry manically. He’d seen you cry countless times, but never like this. Never like you were in pain.

“My house. I feel like— like a stranger, like I don’t even belong there. It’s all his fault,” you admitted through your tears.

“Your step dad?” He asked quietly, connecting the dots in his head.

He’d been at your house before, he’d met your step dad, and he’d always been pleasant. But he was polite in a way that you knew it was fake, it was a show and JJ had worked that out from the first time they’d shook hands. His grip was too tight, his eyes bored even whilst he smiled. He’d always figured that it wasn’t like that for you, though. He just assumed it was an issue with him.

“He’s so mean to me,” you choked out. “I try my best, I do, I just want to get along but it’s like he’d rather die than see me as his kid.”

“Okay, alright, c’mere,” JJ coaxed, holding his arms out for you to crawl into. You didn’t need any convincing, already in his lap before his arms were fully extended. “I got you, okay? Take a breath, calm down. You’re safe, you’re alright.”

You sniffled into his shoulder, slowly but surely beginning to calm down and realise what you’d done. You’d shared. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel like the world was ending. It actually felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and you could finally breathe for the first time in years.

“Should we go to bed? Hm?” He murmured, running his fingers soothingly through your hair.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly.

He stood up, lifting you with him into his arms as he kicked open the porch door and walked through the house to the spare bedroom that he called his own. He dropped you onto the bed, flicking on the lamp and closing the door. He didn’t say anything as he stripped down into his boxers and put his shirt over your head, climbing into bed beside you.

“You want to talk about it?” He asked, kissing the back of your neck.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you mumbled back, exhausted from the confession.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Is there a reason you ain’t brought this up before?”

“It’s— compared to what you and the others have been dealt in the parent region, it’s nothing. It’s stupid, really, I don’t even know why I’m so upset,” you explained. Both of you knew it wasn’t stupid, it didn’t matter what he did or didn’t do. No one deserves to feel unwanted in their own family.

“Don’t compare,” he murmured, rolling you over so you were facing him. “Just because someone’s broken their leg don’t mean your paper cut doesn’t hurt.”

You let out a tearful giggle, shaking your head at him. “That’s a stupid analogy.”

“Maybe,” he smiled back softly, happy he’d been able to see you smile even if just for a moment. “Doesn’t make it a lie. I don’t want you feelin’ like that at all, but I hate the fact you’ve been feeling it alone. And me, the Pogues, we’re your family. You’re always wanted here.”

“Thanks, JJ,” you whispered, eyes welling up once again. This time it wasn’t from the pain, it was from the fact you knew he was telling the truth.

“Go to sleep, baby. We’ll talk in the mornin’, over Kie’s blueberry pancakes,” he said, stroking your cheek. He leant forward and pressed a soft but firm kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It would always hurt that you weren’t ever going to feel whole in your own home, but at least you were lucky enough to have a second one. One that truly wanted you, no matter the circumstances.

[concretejunglefm]

I'm not ready to let you forget me (part 4).

*edit credit goes to the lovely @defuckingthrone-dot-com

You told your friends you want me deadAnd said that I did everythin' wrongAnd you're not wrong

An anon request for lovers to enemies -> playlist, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5.

Summary: It’s been two years since Noah cheated on you, abruptly ending your relationship. However, the universe seems to have a peculiar sense of humor in its plan to reunite you.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: Mentions of cheating, Noah can be an overall asshole and a tad bit of angst. Unwanted touching/groping/kissing, implied further S/A (male victim) via intoxication and mentions use of GHB. Please remember to take care of yourselves and be safe.

WC: 3.9k.

Dividers: Silent-stories.

The next day is your final full day here. By Monday morning, your trip would end, and you’d return to your usual mundane life. Instead of embracing the time you had left, you spent it sulking, wallowing in self-pity over the sting of betrayal you felt from Noah and the rest, but especially Sloan.

You never imagined your best friend would pull you back towards the guy she knew had shattered your heart.

When she tried to talk to you through your hotel room door that morning, you ignored her and hid until later that afternoon, after finishing off the bottles in your hotel room minibar.

As you exit your room, you catch Folio standing at the door to his room beside yours. You consider not disturbing him and trying to slip past, but you have no reason to be upset with him. Besides, his boyish grin always made you have a softer spot for him.

You clear your throat before speaking. “How did the show go?” Their festival performance was today, and while you knew Sloan would be there, probably stageside with how close she and Jolly had gotten over the weekend, you decided to ignore her invitation: “When you’re ready to stop being mad at everyone, you can join me at the festival.”

You weren’t mad at everyone; just Sloan, Noah, Jolly, and maybe even Nicholas with his recent behavior and invitations to both of you. Folio, as well as Matt, was probably the only one you hadn’t yet found a reason to be mad at.

“Crushed it, obviously,” he says with such pride that it makes you laugh. “Can’t do a show without crushing.” His response shouldn’t surprise you; he always took pride in his performances and his ability to improve with each one. “We were planning to go to one of the escape rooms later. You should join us.”

“Oh, I don’t—“

“Come on. It’s your last night here, right? You really want to spend it wallowing in your room?”

“Well I planned to do it down at the bar, actually.” You laugh. “Besides, I really don't think it's a good idea seeing Noah right now. I imagine him and his ex performing today made them pretty cosy, especially after the other night.” You roll your eyes at the thought and do your best trying not to appear irritated by it. You fail.

“About that…” There’s a near guilty expression on Folio’s face which causes your eyebrows to narrow.

“Yes?”

“It's not what you think. She wasn't… that wasn’t... Noah was with me the whole night.”

You scoff and shake your head. “You don't have to defend him Folio, he’s a big boy.” It almost doesn't surprise you that Noah would rope one of his friends into lying for him, into defending him when he was in the wrong.

“I’m not! We were together the whole night. The banging and the moaning you heard, that was us. He said it would be funny and I stupidly agreed.”

“Oh…” The tension in your body fades as the irritation you felt before now slowly dissipates with nowhere for it to be aimed. You'd have gladly held it over Noah for the rest of time, but if it hadn't been true, how can you?

“Like I say, I really think you should consider joining us today. It’ll be fun.” 

It's the last thing he leaves you with before slipping into his own hotel room and you actually find yourself considering it. 

You caved, and as soon as you enter the escape room, Sloan greets you with a usual sarcastic remark, breaking the pout you had been wearing and forming a smile. 

You couldn’t stay mad at her, and you hoped none of this was intentional. However, you knew you needed to talk to her sooner rather than later to prevent yourself from overthinking it.

“Ladies first,” Jolly says, gesturing towards the open door of the escape room.

Stepping inside, you find it to be a replica of a music studio, fitting for a band that had just finished a show.

Turning back towards the door, instead of seeing Sloan or anyone else enter, Noah follows and you catch Sloan’s apologetic expression as she mouths an ‘I’m sorry’ to you.

At that moment, the door closes, and your eyes widen in realization.

Crossing over to the door, you try to open it despite hearing the distinct click of the latch locking into place. “Sloan, this isn’t funny,” you call through the door, but her muffled response only adds to your frustration.

“You both really need to talk.”

You shoot a glance at Noah, your eyes narrowing. “Was this your idea?”

He chuckles and holds up his hands. “Don’t blame me. I had no idea they were going to do this. I didn’t even think you’d want to come after last night.”

“I didn’t,” you grumble, almost angry with Folio for tricking you into coming.

While Noah sits in a nearby chair, you start searching the room for clues or any way to escape.

Your brief search yields to nothing, and you grow more frustrated with Noah for not helping you. “Are you really just going to sit there and not help?”

“Why should I? I thought you worked better alone anyway,” he retorts.

You scoff. He really chose his moments to be difficult. Trying to ignore him, you resume your search, but come to a halt as the familiar chords of ‘Just Pretend’ start playing. Out of all the props in the room, he had to pick up the guitar and see if it could work.

It makes you roll your eyes to hear that song. Even though you've been avoiding the band for the past two years, you've heard it thanks to TikTok and the millions of girls who’ve been obsessed with calling it ‘the perfect love song’. It’s far from a love song, and you don’t delude yourself into thinking it could be about you. But right now, as you hear the change in lyrics, you can’t help but wonder if it could be.

Stepping towards where he’s sitting, you lower yourself slowly onto the edge of the near by chair and listen. He’s completely engrossed in the song, but his voice sounds a lot more broken and raw than it ever does when he sings it live.

Sloan had said that you both needed to talk, and maybe she’s right.

When the song ends, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before breaking the silence. “Folio told me that what happened the other night is ‘not what I think.’” You pause, your gaze settling on Noah, who avoids meeting yours. “He said you were with him all night and that she wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, well, Folio needs to mind his own business.”

“He’s only looking out for you,” you say, feeling the need to defend him. You know it was coming from a place of care for both you and Noah. “Why did you act like you were with her?”

Noah shrugs. “Thought it would be funny.”

“No, I don’t buy it,” you say.

Sighing, he finally resigns himself, if only slightly. “I thought it would make you talk to me. Even if it meant you were angry, you’d at least stop ignoring me.”

“And you couldn’t think of a better way to do that?”

“What can I say, I’m an asshole,” he admits, his voice devoid of gloating. He sounds defeated, as if he’s accepted being tarnished with that label.

“You weren’t always like that,” you say, your voice softer. Your fingers twitch, itching to reach for him but hesitant to offer him any form of comfort beyond your words. “And you didn’t have to become an asshole to get me to talk to you.”

“Really?” His gaze finally meets yours. “Because you ignored me every chance you had.” He slides forward towards the end of his seat, pushing down and onto the floor, coming onto his knees in front of you, reaching for your hand. 

Every other time he tried to reach for you during this trip, you pulled away, refusing to give him even a chance to get close. But this time, you let him take your hand in his own. 

“Call me an asshole all you want. Tell me you hate me. Tell me you never want to see my face again. Just never stop telling me those things. I hated these last two years without you, and I can’t go back to not hearing your voice ever again.”

This time, he’s down on his knees in front of you, and it’s not because of any request or attempt to humiliate him. There’s a genuine apology written across his face, and you hear it in his voice—the way he grows soft, almost desperate to not let you go again.

As much as you want to forgive him, to let him back in, even at a distance, you can’t shake the memories of what happened. Between him ghosting you, the pictures and videos of him and his ex, and the sound of her voice in his room the other night, it pains you to even consider letting any of that go unaddressed. But the thought of asking about it makes your throat tighten.

“What happened?” You finally choke out and his head, which he had lowered to rest against your lap, finally raises and he looks up at you. “With… her. What happened? You went on tour with her and then you ghosted me.” 

You sound more emotional than you mean to and you force a laugh trying to push the urge to cry back down because you’ll be damned if you sit here crying to your ex, over him, in some stupid escape room.

Noah doesn’t answer, instead he pulls himself back away from you, his head lowered, chin tucked against his chest as he slides back onto the chair, avoiding looking at you.

“God, if you cheated on me could you atleast have the balls to admit it.”

“I don’t know.” He mumbles.

“That’s such a poor excuse.”

“I don’t know.” He says it more firmly and finally lifts his head to look across at you. “We were all out. I had something to drink and the next thing I remember I was waking up in her bed.”

You can’t help the scoff you let out, shaking your head because it feels like he's using every cliche and excuse right now. “So you got drunk and hooked up with your ex? Then felt too ashamed to even tell me so you ghosted me?” Your voice slowly rises a few octaves, despite you not meaning for it to. You’re angry and upset and you can’t hold it back.

“It wasn’t like that.” He starts and you continue shaking your head, pushing up out of the chair as you begin to pace the small room, looking back over at Noah.

“Then what’s it like, Noah, huh? Because right now it sounds like you’re just a coward who cheated and couldn’t own up to it.”

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t remember what happened. I don’t know how I ended up there with her, but I did.” His voice sounds strained, like he’s trying to hold himself back from becoming too upset and you see the shimmer of wetness in his eyes.

“Noah?” You move back over to the chair you were sitting in and lower yourself onto the edge reaching for him. 

The moment you do, he’s quick to use the front of his shirt to wipe away the tears which start rolling down his cheeks. 

“You really don’t remember?” You ask, your voice soft as you tentatively reach out to him, laying your hand over his and he silently shakes his head in response.

“She sent me a video.” His voice breaks a little and he clears his throat. “I can guess from there what happened. She threatened to send it to you if I didn't break up with you and get back together with her.”

“And that’s why you ghosted me?”

“That and I was ashamed.” He forces a laugh and it makes your heart break, witnessing this side of him, the side which was often reserved away from everyone, including you.

“Noah did she…” You trail off as he shakes his head in response to your words before shrugging.

“I don’t…” 

You nod and take his hand in your own, raising it towards your mouth as your turn and press a gentle kiss against his palm. You don’t need to press him anymore, you understand.

Whatever happened inside the room must've satisfied Sloan enough to have the door unlocked, because you hear the click a few moments later before seeing it open and your best friend walk in as if she was your savior.

In some ways, maybe she is.

Back at the hotel, Noah retreats to his room, and you can see the dark circles forming around his eyes. After today’s physically and emotionally taxing events, including the escape room, you didn’t object to him needing some alone time. 

While everyone else disperses, Nicholas surprises you with a knock on your door.

“There’s something you need to see,” he says.

You invite him in and watch as he pulls out his phone and steps towards you. He scrolls and taps on the screen until he’s satisfied with what he finds.

“What’s this?” you ask, taking the phone and looking down to see a video open and paused on the screen.

“What really happened,” Nicholas says. “Noah hasn’t seen the full video. Matt managed to get the full thing after talking to a few guys who were there that night.”

Moving across the room towards the bed, you settle on the edge as you take a breath and press play.

You hear the same giggle, the same high-pitched, dragging-out “Nowah” that makes your skin crawl. You really don’t want to watch this, especially when she comes into view. It makes your stomach turn and bile rise up your throat. Why do you want to watch your boyfriend making out with another girl, especially the ex he ghosted you for?

Except that isn’t what starts playing out on the screen in front of you. Noah, who looks barely conscious, is being grabbed and groped by the same girl. Her chest is pressed to his face as she giggles, acting like he’s the one behind the actions when he’s merely a puppet for her amusement.

You want to look away, to turn it off. In your mind, you’ve seen enough, but you can’t stop. The phone trembles in your hands as you watch the rest of the video.

Her fingers rake through his hair, tugging up his heavy head and cooing something almost unintelligible against his lips. Noah speaks enough for you to catch a faint word—your name. It leaves his lips and tightens your chest. Did he think it was you? Did he want it to be? Was he calling out for you? Regardless, your name is quickly dismissed by his ex, who says, “She’s not here right now, baby, but don’t worry, I’ll help you forget all about her.” The moment her lips meet his in a forced kiss, you push the phone back, shaking your head.

“I-I can’t, I’ve seen enough.” You can piece together the same puzzle that Noah did.

In his mind, he believed he had cheated, but the reality was he had been gaslit, shown only the edited version of the video where his ex was all over him and then kissing him. Waking up beside her the next morning made him reach an easy conclusion.

You want to vomit; the thought of everything that happened makes your stomach churn, and it hurts your chest not only for what you saw but also for Noah. The thought of him being burdened by this, holding onto something he thought he needed to be ashamed of and how you treated him, suddenly makes you feel guilty. You shouldn’t have been so hasty to block him, to try to cut him out of your life. What if every spam account he watched you from was his way of trying to reach out? What if he had been trying, but you just pushed him away, driving him further back every time?

“I can see why you haven’t shown him. How long have you had this?” When you look at Nicholas, you can see the struggle in his eyes at trying to keep this from his best friend.

“A few months,” he confesses, twisting his mouth. It’s as if you can see the guilt gnawing at him. “I don’t know if showing him would make things worse.”

“Definitely worse.” You whisper. You knew beneath the hardened cocky exterior was a softer heart, one Noah tried to protect and failing to do so always opened up a possibility for him diving off the deep end.

“Have you spoken to her?” When the question leaves your lips you shake your head, dismissing it yourself. “Sorry, that was dumb, of course you wouldn't.”

“We’ve tried. She refuses to get back to any of us, even her team have now told us to ‘stop harassing her’.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “She's here you know, at the hotel.”

At those words it's like you see red and suddenly every ounce of logic you have dissipates and you’re carrying yourself from your hotel room and downstairs, walking throughout the hotel as if you'll miraculously bump into his ex in the hallway or casino.

On your way, you pick up the addition of Folio and Matt, followed by Sloan and Jolly. Sloan tries to reason with you, but Folio urges you on, as if you’ll start a fight with her.

“What are you going to say to her?” Sloan asks, trying to pull you out of your rage filled trance.

“Nice to meet you. I’m the girl whose life you ruined, just like Noah’s.” You make a vague gesture, causing Jolly to chuckle. You hear a thump from his direction, indicating that Sloan hit him in response.

“You really can’t think confronting her here is a good idea.”

“Why not? She keeps hiding behind her team and everyone else. Better to catch her when she least expects it.”

“I thought you didn’t care about him.” Sloan’s voice is softer this time, and it stops you in your tracks.

You had said that, tried to act nonchalant about him, but now you’re ready to dive headfirst into his battle for what? Because you still cared?

You didn’t have time to debate Sloan’s question, and that all slips away when you catch a familiar face.

Noah’s ex.

She’s surrounded by a small crowd of people you can only assume are part of her crew. You quickly pull away from your group and head towards her, calling out to her.

You don’t know what you expected when you come face to face with her, that somehow you’ll spew everything you’ve been thinking about and holding in since he ghosted you for her, but now you’re left silent as you stand before her.

She’s beautiful, and you were never blind to that or envious of it, but now you see that there’s a distinct sneer at the corner of her lips, as if she’s looking down on you rather than at you.

Just as one of her crew approaches to gesture you to move away, you sidestep them and come towards her.

“I know what you did.”

She lets out a laugh, looking around as if appalled by such an odd accusation from a stranger. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Noah,” your eyes meet hers, and you notice the dimming of her gaze. The cocky facade she maintains slightly falters. “I know what you did.”

As she prepares to respond, her eyes divert behind you, and you hear your name being called.

Following her gaze, they fall on Noah, who is coaxing you away. His face remains as sunken as before. Since his confession, he has lost all of his composure, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s due to the exhaustion of holding onto it or if he has finally stopped pretending to be someone he’s not around you.

“No, she needs to acknowledge what she did.” You insist, turning back to face her.

“What I did was merely have some fun.” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

“That’s what you call fun?!” You feel a hand on your shoulder as Nicholas steps up to you, attempting to calm you down as your voice rises.

“A few drops of GHB to relax him. He was so tense that night.” She glances past you in Noah’s direction, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “He passed out before any real fun could occur, though.” Her mouth curls into a pout, and you feel an instant urge to lunge at her, but Nick’s hand restrains you.

“So, what you’re implying is that nothing happened?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Apart from the video your little friends apparently got ahold of, no.”

“So, you put him in your bed to make him believe he cheated? Why? Because did wanted him back?”

“I didn’t make him believe anything; he came to that conclusion on his own. It sounds like a guilty conscience to me.”

Your hand twitches, and you feel Nick move down and grasp at your wrist, as if silently preventing you from lashing out at her.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She attempts to move forward and pass you, and Nick pulls you back, out of the way, as you turn to look over at Noah.

This moment should be filled with joy as you both reunite, victorious over the evil that once plagued you. Yet, instead of embracing each other, you find yourself standing there, staring at Noah, an apologetic look etched on your face.

You had known she was manipulative, but you never imagined she would resort to such extreme measures, framing Noah for cheating while making him believe the worst had happened to him.

The way Noah looked at you was a mix of shame and disappointment. You had never lashed out at anyone the way you had her, never had to be restrained and pulled away from a potential fight. You didn’t even think you had the skills to fight beyond the occasional hair-pulling and slapping. But you had been ready then. It was all thanks to Nicholas’s presence, which prevented you from confronting her in the hotel’s public space.

Imagine how that would've looked. Another story for her to spin in her favor.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, unable to lift your gaze from the floor. Shame washes over you, not just for your actions but also for not being able to bear the disappointment in Noah's eyes for much longer.

You had always prided yourself on being level-headed, but around Noah, everything changed. Whether it was his behavior or your own emotions getting the better of you, the intensity of your feelings for him surpassed anything you had ever experienced with anyone else.

“Noah, please,” you take a step towards him, reaching out to him. But instead of embracing you, he turns away, it's his turn to walk away now, and shaking his head, he retreats from you, leaving.

When you look over to your best friend, Sloan, she offers you a comforting expression before moving in. Your lips tremble as you whisper, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” She gently shushes you, pulling you into her arms. It feels so familiar now, after her months of comforting you. She doesn’t even hold the cruelty of your words from the previous night against you.

You don’t deserve her, and maybe on some level, you don’t deserve Noah either.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @annthepenguin @samanthasgone @littlebear423 @aprosiacperson @flowery-mess @nyriastark @blackgirlmagicforever

[salty-autistic-writer]

Written for @bucktommyfluffebruary, Day 8: Surprise

Buck watches intently, as Tommy eats a piece of lemon loaf. 

It’s been a few days since they made up - And made out. A lot. - and Buck told Tommy all about his baking frenzy. Which led to some curiosity. And to this. Tommy takes a good bite, chews, hums, then licks his finger and nods. “Hm.”

“What?” Buck asks, frowning, because that definitely wasn’t an “it’s so delicious” hum.

Tommy shrugs, glancing at Buck. “It’s … good. There’s just something missing.” “Missing,” Buck repeats, baffled. “But it’s lemon loaf! I have baked at least ten lemon loafs these past few weeks!”

Tommy smiles weakly. “I’m just being honest, Evan. That’s something we promised to each other right?”

Right. They did promise to be honest and not hold things back from each other this time. Buck still doesn’t like Tommy's reaction. And he can’t help but bite, “So you’re the lemon loaf expert now? Are you saying your lemon loaf would be better than mine?”

Tommy raises an amused brow. “Is that a challenge?”

“Uh. That depends, I guess. Are you … baking? Because I’ve never seen you do it,” Buck says. All he remembers is Tommy buying pastry from the bakery. Lots of pastry. But he has never seen Tommy do more than Christmas cookies with Jee.

Tommy shrugs. “Occasionally? It’s not my favourite hobby, but as a kid, I’ve been spending a lot of time at my grandmother’s house. She was my favourite person in the world. Made me feel loved and cherished no matter what. I often watched her in the kitchen. She was always talking while cooking and baking, telling me important things. Also, she had this journal, filled with all of her favourite recipes. I still have it. And lemon loaf was in it.”

That’s cute, Buck decides, his chest warming with the mental image of little Tommy, watching his grandmother bake.

“You know what? It should be a challenge,” he decides, grinning. “I want to know who can bake the better lemon loaf.”

Tommy frowns. “Are you sure? We just got back together …”

“Come on, it's not like baking lemon loaf is going to cause some kind of meltdown,” Buck says with a shrug. “We are adults. I can accept defeat if it’s fair.”

Tommy smiles. “Alright. And who is going to have the honour to be our jury?”

“Man. What did you do? I trusted you!” Chimney complains, arms crossed and brows furrowed as he glares up at Tommy. “You were supposed to make him stop, not encourage him to bake even more! We’ve all had enough cake to last a lifetime!”

“Well then you can try at least one last piece,” Tommy says dryly, shrugging.

“So which one is yours and which one is Buck’s?” Maddie asks, looking between the loaves that look pretty much identical, with a small smile.

“No, we are not telling you. You are supposed to be neutral!” Buck explains. “The name of the winner will be on the note attached to the plate. Just eat a piece of each and then tell us which one you prefer!”

“Alright,” Chimney sighs. “Let’s get it over with.”

Tommy and Buck watch as Chimney and Maddie eat some of both lemon loaves - then come back for seconds. Buck’s excitement grows as he watches them look at each other, still chewing, then at the loaves, brows furrowed in concentration.

“This one,” Maddie decides, pointing at the left loaf.

“Yeah. I agree. And … I actually have to say, I wouldn’t mind eating the whole thing,” Chimney says with a sigh, rubbing his stomach.

Okay. That’s ... a surprise. Buck already knows before Maddie turns to read the note since this loaf has a gleam his own doesn’t have. It’s Tommy’s. Tommy actually baked a better lemon loaf. 

“Yay,” Tommy says, smiling like he forgot that all of Buck’s lemon loaves only existed because of him. Buck feels a spark of irritation. “Where’s my lemon loaf award?”

Buck scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, so you can make a better lemon loaf. Congratulation. But what about scones, huh? It’s not that easy to bake them without making them crumble, you know?"

Chimney groans. Maddie giggles. Tommy raises a brow and asks innocently, “Whatever happened to you being able to accept defeat, babe?”

Buck glares at him. “Wait till we’re alone! I will show you defeat!"

"Oh? But don't you want to know my secret ingredient, Evan?"

"Trust me. You will tell me when I'm done with you."

“Aaaaand that’s it. Thank you. Bye. We are leaving. But not without this!” Chimney calls with a grimace, grabbing Tommy’s lemon loaf and Maddie’s arm, walking right out the door, with Maddie waving and laughing.

The great Buck and Tommy bake-off ends with Buck showing Tommy something he’s very good at: Making him beg.

(AO3 Link)

[danvssomethingorother]

So I think the big difference in Leon and Chris is Leon is more practical and Chris lets emotion dictate every action.

I’m not saying Leon is an ice queen, in every appearance he is nice and wants to save everyone and is only rude to people who are you know shady? He was reasoning with Chris in 6 because he knew he wasn’t himself and wanted to remind him they were allies vs him being mad at Chris for bothering him when 1) he wasn’t part of Chris’s new quest for vengeance and 2) he had time off because he was mentally and emotionally unwell meaning he knew he couldn’t be helpful.

What I mean by practical is every option is weighed and he has to work with what he has and not hypothetical things. He always keeps death as an option even if yeah he doesn’t want that. Leon knew him and Ashley could be cured because of Luis’s pills that were already slowing the symptoms down. He wasn’t running into a hey I might be able to live if I keep believing scenario. Even facing Krauser someone who means something to him, he forces himself to focus on the now and not the then. He doesn’t bring up good times or try to reason, doesn’t make it a quest for revenge. He waits till the fight is done and then cries because of the emotional side of things and bottles it again to finish the job. He has no reason to trust Helena that their boss is evil, he needs proof from Hunnigan before he decides he can proceed with her.

Practical solutions to intense emotional situations.

Chris wears his heart on his sleeve. Everything is personal. He will do this and fuck logic. He punched a boulder for crying out loud just in the power of friendship. Not to mention all the simple solutions that you know he could have done in 1 (playing as Jill you find them) but instead punches them and keeps thinking he’s gonna win because love and friendship and protecting people.

In 6, every thing is personal. When other characters like Leon ask him to leave his emotions out of it and think about it in a more logical way, he seems ready to throw hands.

He doesn’t even talk to Ethan in 8? He’s just so sure he’s right for once? That caused more problems buddy.

He went to Leon instead of getting information from databases because he runs on the power of friendship and Leon must know more because he’s loyal to Leon and Leon should be just as loyal. And in a reverse of 6, the emotional arguments work over the reasonable ones Leon could have made because he was going through a mental episode and yeah of course Chris and his big hero actions and guarantee they will win won him over.

I think that’s ultimately what Leon’s question means at the end: how long can you only run on blind faith you will win? Logically you won’t.

[eddiegettingshot]

your prompt for today: pink🩷

When their night out winds down, and they land on Eddie’s doorstep, Buck’s gut begins to prickle with sudden nerves, or maybe anticipation. He really can’t tell the difference. Strange, because he thought he’d been handling being on a first date with his best friend pretty well. After all, it’s a song and dance that’s usually about making a good first impression, and not only did that ship sail years ago, but Buck didn’t even get it right. So dinner just felt like dinner, except for the fact that Eddie kept their feet tucked together beneath the table the whole time.

Granted, there were a few days where Buck kept forgetting anything had changed between them if they weren’t physically together, if Eddie didn’t have a hand on him, like he’d lost all sense of object permanence where Eddie was concerned. What’s startling is that in most ways, nothing has. 

Like this: Eddie turns to him now as he unlocks his front door, brow arched. 

“What, you got somewhere else to be?” he asks.

Buck doesn’t bother asking what Eddie had seen in him, that he’d decided he needed to stake an explicit claim on the rest of Buck’s night (and, with luck, the morning?). It’s not like he’s in the habit of playing things close to the vest, but half the time he doesn’t even need to say a word—not to Eddie. He’d been peeled open long before he knew he had anything to confess.

Easy to imagine: himself, held in the tender cradle of Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s thumbs feeling down his center to find the tenderest spot, pushing deep all at once, prying him apart—through the rind of him, his ribcage, so all his insides, overripe with adoration, come spilling out into Eddie’s palms. That’s how it feels. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

“No,” he says, shuffling closer. He’d been hanging back, playing with his car keys in his pocket.  “No, I—I’m coming in.”

“Good.” 

Eddie sounds so openly pleased. Warmth spills through Buck’s spine. He hadn’t considered that he wasn’t alone in this—bracing against some new humming energy, staring too closely at the back of Eddie’s neck—but he watches Eddie’s shoulders soften, right before he lets Buck inside.

Then, once Buck’s on the couch, thinking really intently about how they’re going to occupy it together (it’s been a busy week; they haven’t even seen enough of each other for Buck to have adapted to their new rules of engagement; can he crawl into Eddie’s lap?), Eddie pauses, says, “Uh, hold on,” and bustles off to the kitchen. 

He returns with a lighter for the candle sitting on the coffee table, which is—new. Buck hadn’t noticed until now. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie light a candle in all the years he’s spent in this house, and now his lip is trapped between his teeth as he does it, avoiding Buck’s eyes all the while.

It hits Buck all at once: Eddie is really, really nervous. And trying to be romantic, for Buck. And if he crawled into Eddie’s lap, probably Eddie would laugh, and let him; he’s allowed. And maybe nothing feels different but it’s all changed. That’s what Buck wants, for once. That’s what Eddie wants, judging by his wide dark eyes, flushed cheeks, the flickering candlelight. Sometimes Buck’s slow on the uptake. This time, he might have just been scared. 

“You look really nice,” Buck says. 

Kind of bad timing—Eddie’s just in his socks; he’d shed his jacket and the fancy watch Buck’s only seen him break out a couple times; he’d undone the first couple of buttons on his shirt; he must have run his hands through his hair when he was out of sight, since it’s falling halfway down his forehead. Buck should have said something when he picked Eddie up—he’d thought it, then, but it had been so comfortable, with Eddie in his passenger seat.

Eddie’s laugh is just a soft puff of air. He relaxes. “Thanks,” he says, coming around to sink down beside Buck, turning a knee out so they’re touching, as if by reflex. 

“I like that color on you,” Buck continues. “Always have.”

“Hm,” Eddie says, smiling. He’s in rose pink. He’s also leaning closer, lifting a hand and brushing his knuckles down Buck’s brow, his cheek. His eyes flicker, and suddenly they’re trained on Buck’s mouth. Buck’s stomach swoops boyishly. “It’s a good color.”

Holy shit, Buck thinks, head full of jasmine and honey and smoke and the cologne Eddie’s wearing, something unfamiliar with a spicy bite. They kissed before—they’ve been kissing all week—except this time Buck starts whimpering before their lips meet, and Eddie swallows whatever strangled noise he makes with a grin. Buck lurches in, fisting urgent hands into the front of Eddie’s shirt. 

“Eddie,” he pants after a while. It’s hard-won, because Eddie is demanding, and he bites. “Eddie, are you sure?” 

Now that they’ve done it, like, really crossed the line, gotten a taste—he’s gotta know if this is what Eddie was looking for, when he told Buck he loved him. Not just the sex, which they’re definitely about to have—all of it. Buck pushes his knuckles against Eddie’s chest to feel his heart gallop, hard but steady like it grew Thoroughbred legs. 

Eddie’s cupping his face in both hands while they kiss. He pulls away, not far, and surveys Buck the way he would a patient: like he’s trying to puzzle out what’s going on beneath Buck’s skin, in all the places he can’t quite reach. “Buck,” he says, gently. “Of course.” 

He pushes his thumb between Buck’s teeth. Satisfied, Buck drags him back in.

[quibbs126]

I didn’t mean for this page to have like, the exact same format as the last one, but it does

I tried to design the kids from that one TFA fanfic I read once because they come into my brain every now and then. I feel like I’m undermining the fic by saying that. It’s part of a collection, called Blessings in Disguise by Quiet_Shadow on Ao3 (idk if they have a tumblr), where basically post Archa 7 and being kicked out of the Academy, Optimus finds out he’s sparked, and later has twins who were sired by both Elita and Sentinel, one for each, and he’s basically raising them with his space bridge crew, since Elita’s supposedly dead and Sentinel keeps ignoring Optimus’ repeated attempts to contact him. The kids are named Ariel and Dion, in reference to the War Dawn characters, and I think are also supposed to somewhat resemble them

I felt I should give a summary for anyone who doesn’t have yesterday’s context. The fics are both relatively short and the second one remains unfinished, but I liked it well enough

But yeah, as alluded to yesterday, I’ve been debating whether or not to draw the kids, and after yesterday I decided “screw it, why not”

As it turns out, the first fic actually did have descriptions for each of the kids, so I had more to work with, which honestly I probably needed

I don’t know how to draw sparklings, so I think I ended up making them look older than they’re supposed to be in the fic. Sorry

And also, while Ariel I think turned out really well, Dion isn’t the best. I actually had to redo him partially because I was trying to give him a Sentinel chin (though far smaller), while also trying to give him a helmet like he was supposed to have (in the fic he has both), but it wasn’t looking right so I changed it to what it is now, which is still kind of wonky. He’s also described as looking a lot like Sentinel, but because I wanted to give him Optimus’ blue skin, among other traits, he ended up resembling Optimus far more than Sentinel

I also gave them both Optimus’ chin thing, initially as coincidence but screw it, shared trait

Ariel was described as pink, so I conceded that she’s pink, but I gave her a more peach tone instead, and overall I quite like her color scheme. Dion too, just not as much

I’m not super sure about the bodies though, particularly the arms. I was drawing that part while bored at work, so it may have affected my creativity. I mean, I guess they’re fine, but I don’t know

But yeah I’m not sure I have more to say, so just know that I did this

Honestly it actually was a lot of fun, at least until the struggle with Dion’s head came into play. I really do need to get around to making my own fankids at some point

And also with this and yesterday, I really do see why people like the TFA style, it’s pretty fun to draw. I need to incorporate it more, but my AU already has another style it’s trying to emulate

*sigh*, if only I had a way to incorporate the TFA style more while also drawing characters and designs separate from the continuity, just borrowing a similar style. I don’t know

[spectoo]

tuna mayo ! miya osamu

chapter four – props to you, sakusa

wc 4056 (sorry, this chapter is little long!)

MDNI.

if you'd like to join the taglist , please fill out this form !

13:50.

“Alright, everybody! Thank you for coming to the lecture today, and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me or any of the TA’s.”

With that being said, everybody in your communications lecture got up and began to either walk towards the professor with curiosity roaming throughout, or pack up and leave. You never really had much trouble with classes, as you were an outstanding student, but to be honest, school wasn’t the only thing on your mind.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Miya Osamu.

Well, more specifically, you couldn’t stop thinking about the food he had made for you. Yes, he himself was running through your mind, but the food was more important. It was seriously some of the best you’ve had. It had been six days since you were at Onigiri Miya, and quite frankly, you’ve been itching to go back.

As you walked out of the building you were in, you were debating if you should go get lunch there. You had work in about an hour and a half, yet, there were numerous thoughts roaming throughout your head.

‘Would it be weird if I went without Atsumu? Or just in general? But, I did tell Miya I was gonna be back eventually…’

The frustration got to you, and in response, you let out a small huff while beginning the short walk to your car. You did want to go back to Onigiri Miya to try other rice ball flavors, but you didn’t want to make things awkward. Would Atsumu be okay with the fact that you found his twin brother attractive?

‘Probably not.’

You reached in your pocket to pull out your car keys, as your car was in full view. If you did want to go to Onigiri Miya, who could you possibly go with? More accurately, who would be the best option to go with?

You didn’t want to take any of your personal friends with you, as you didn’t want them to catch on to the fact that you’re interested in someone new. You opened your car door, and quickly situated yourself.

slam!

You began to scroll through your contacts on your phone to decide who you should take with you.

‘Atsumu, no. Hinata… no. Inunaki? Out of the question. Bokuto, hell no. He has a big mouth.’ Finally your eyes landed on the perfect person to text.

You were surprised at the fact that Sakusa had agreed to come with you, let alone the fact that he was okay with being in the same car as you. You knew he wasn’t a big fan of being pretty close to other individuals, but a win is a win.

You were glad that you became acquaintances with him. He wasn’t the type of guy to really get involved in other people's business, and this was a good opportunity to possibly become actual friends with him.

You put your car in drive, and left campus while setting directions to Sakusa’s apartment, with new thoughts about what you should order when you arrive at Onigiri Miya.

𐙚 OSAMU

As mentioned before, it had been six days since you were last at his store. He had been wondering when you were going to come back.

He was currently sitting in his office at Onigiri Miya, and was filling out some order forms. Rush hour had recently ended, and he was glad he was able to take a short ‘break.’ His three scheduled employees were currently cleaning some areas of the kitchen.

A part of him wished he had asked for your number so he was able to know if you were even going to come back, but then again, you both only met once. And plus, Atsumu considered you to be one of his closest friends. The last time Osamu had expressed to Atsumu that he thought one of his female friends was somewhat attractive, a small, verbal fight had broken out.

Please note that this was back in highschool, too.

Yes, years had gone by, and they’ve both grown into (somewhat) mature adults, but Atsumu was still unpredictable.

‘He probably wants her for himself.’ Osamu scoffed. ‘Selfish pig.’

𐙚 YOU

14:16.

“I’m outside.” You spoke as you put your car in park. You had arrived at Sakusa's apartment complex, which was rather luxurious.

“I’ll be down in a second.” A deep voice responded back through the speakers of your car.

“Okay, bye.” You ended the call.

As you laid back in your seat, you decided to observe the scenery around you. His apartment complex was truly gorgeous. There was a lot of greenery, yet it was all neatly planted. You looked to your left, and saw the volleyball player walking towards your car in his usual outfit – some black gym shoes, black joggers, a black hoodie, and a black mask.

‘He wasn’t even lying when he said he’d be down in a second…’ You thought to yourself as you unlocked the car. 

As he opened the door, he immediately sat down, and quickly settled himself.

You bowed your head as a greeting. Shortly after bowing, you began to nod your head, as you were very impressed with him. “Props to you, Sakusa. You’re very punctual with your timing.”

He pulled down his mask, and bowed back to you. “Thank you, [L/N].” 

You quickly put in the navigation for Onigiri Miya, and began the drive.

“So, how’s your day been?” You ask, trying to start a conversation.

“It was okay. How about you? You had classes today, correct?” He responded neutrally.

You smiled. You remember mentioning your school schedule to Sakusa, yet he didn’t seem to be fully interested as you were telling him. “Correct. My day was great, but I got assigned a project for one of my elective classes. It’s okay though, it was expected."

He let out a small ‘hm' before going on his phone and scrolling. You quickly glanced at him, and focused back on the road, while gently tapping your finger on the steering wheel. ‘So much for communication.’

14:25.

There was about five minutes left of the drive, and you and Sakusa haven’t really spoken a word since your failed conversation, yet, you considered the both of you to be sitting in comfortable silence. ‘Popular’ by The Weeknd was currently playing, and the volume was at the perfect amount. You were internally jamming out, but was interrupted.

“[L/N].”

You look over at the curly haired man sitting beside you, and turn the volume down a bit.

“What’s up?” You ask, turning your head back, and keeping your eyes on the road in front of you.

“Have you been to Onigiri Miya before? Or is this your first time?” 

You were a bit taken back by this, even though it was pretty unserious. “Uh, yeah. I tried it for the first time about a week ago.”

A small silence… “I went with Atsumu and Hinata.” You continued, in a less confident manner.

“Ah.” Sakusa looked out his window, and you thought that was the end of the conversation. Yet, he spoke once more, turning back to you. “So, you met Osamu? What did you think of him?”

Your heart dropped. Logically speaking, you shouldn’t even be concerned in this first place, but why was he asking question, after question? You decided to stay quiet for as long as you possibly could, while thinking of a proper answer. A couple seconds have gone by at this point, and Sakusa was still staring at you, expecting an answer.

You quickly turn your head towards him, with a still face, and turn back. “Um, you know… Miya seems like a nice guy.” Your eyes quickly move to the ETA on your carplay. ‘2 minutes…’ With that being said, you pressed the gas pedal with a little more pressure to speed up. You didn’t know where this conversation was going, which made you a bit tense.

Sakusa seemed to notice this, and nodded his head, deciding to stop talking.

‘What was that even about? Like? ... Oh, I have to turn here.’

You make a right turn, and enter the plaza where Onigiri Miya is located. It’s all starting to seem familiar to you. You decide to park in the same spot you were in last time, and after you turn off your car, both you and Sakusa get out simultaneously. He quickly pulled his mask up, and the both of you walked to the door.

You opened the door for him, and went in behind him. Immediately after entering, you’re both greeted by one of the female employees at the store.

“Hello, welcome in!” she spoke as she bowed to the both of you.

You both nodded back. You and Sakusa walked closer to the counter, and the first thing you noticed was that Osamu wasn’t in your sight at all. You were immediately disappointed, yet didn’t think much of it. As you look up at the menu, you hear Sakusa speak.

“Could you tell Miya to come to the front?”

The disappointment you felt earlier was gone at once.

“No problem.” 

You briefly look at the worker, and see her walking to the back, most presumably to his office.

‘Round two, Miya.’ You smirked.

𐙚 OSAMU

knock knock!

“Boss, Sakusa is here with someone else, and he asked for you!”

Osamu immediately looked up from his paperwork, and put his pen down. ‘No shot.’ He thought as he got up, and straightened out his clothes.

He opened the door that leads out of his office, and to the kitchen. He could feel some anxious feelings being brought up within himself, but paid no mind. “Thank you, Ito. Could you go help prepare some fillings?”

“Yes.” She slightly bowed, and walked away.

Osamu began walking towards the front. He saw Sakusa first, staring back at him. And… It was you. A little bit distant from Sakusa, and looking at the menu.

“Hey, Sakusa.” Osamu turned to look at you, to already see you staring back at him. “Hello, [L/N]. I was wonderin’ when you were gonna show up again.” He said as he put his hand on his hips, while internally cursing himself out. He was trying to act nonchalant, but his true feelings got the best of him.

You responded with a chuckle. “Hey, Miya. I would’ve showed up sooner, but school got the best of me.”

As you and Osamu began a new conversation about what you would potentially be ordering this time, nothing between the both of you went unnoticed by Sakusa. Yes, he was quiet sometimes, but he was still observant. He noticed how you had that little smile plastered upon your face while talking with Osamu. He also noticed how Osamu’s cheeks began to flush a very light pink color, which Sakusa has never seen him do before.

“Helloooo, earth to Sakusa? Are you there?” He immediately snaps out of his daze to see you waving your hand at a safe distance in front of his face. “Hello.”

“Ya want the usual, ‘Omi?” Osamu began tapping some buttons on his register, before Sakusa could respond. Yet, nothing was wrong with this as the curly haired man began to nod his head.

“Uh, also, put [L/N]’s order on the same bill as mine.” He quickly spoke, putting his hands in his pocket.

You raised an eyebrow, and turned to Sakusa. “Oh? Why?”

“You picked me up, and drove me here.”

You stayed silent for a second, truly wondering if he was being serious. Yet, you internally grinned. This was your opportunity to drop the ‘friend’ bomb on him.

“Um… we’re friends. I don’t mind having to drive you to places.” Nailed it.

He sighed, and pulled his mask down. “I suppose. I’ll still pay, though.”

You shrugged, and internally came up with the solution to just pay for him the next time you both get food together. “Okay… um… I think I’ll do two bonito flake rice balls, and three tenmusu.”

“What? No vigorous amount today?” Osamu responded back, tapping more buttons on his screen.

“I actually can’t. My stomach began to hurt after I got back to my apartment last time.”

“What did ya expect? Ya had fifteen onigiri.” He grinned as he put both of his hands on the counter in front of him.

“Excuse me, [L/N]? You had fifteen?” Sakusa looked absolutely disgusted.

You didn’t even know what to say. You pursed your lips together and looked away. After a couple of seconds of silence between the three of you, you spoke up, and pointed to a table in the corner. “I’m going to sit there.” And with that being said you, walked away.

“Alright, ‘Omi. Yer total is ¥2,500. Ya doin card?”

Sakusa nodded his head, and handed Osamu his card. “By the way, could you, uh, make my onigiri to go?”

Osamu briefly looked up at the man in front of him, and looked back down to the card reader. “Yer not eatin’ with [L/N]?”

“I am, it’s just in case.”

Osamu let out a small “hm,” and handed Sakusa his card back. “Should be out in a couple minutes.”

With that, Sakusa walked to the table you were at, and took a seat across from you. You put your phone down, and the both of you begin to have a small conversation about relations to MSBY.

14:38.

“Order up.”

You and Sakusa both look at Osamu, holding a ceramic plate with one hand, and a plastic bag with the other. Sakusa gets up and bows to him, then grabs both from him without any issue. 

“Whose bag is that?” You ask while pointing at it.

“Oh…” Sakusa puts your plate on the table, yet doesn’t sit back down. “It’s mine. My um– Meian texted me and asked me to come early to practice. So I got my food to go.”

You stare at him with a bewildered look on your face. “Meian texted you?” You tried confirming. You don’t remember him going on his phone since you both walked into the store, and you know that Meian would not be the one to text him, it would be Coach Foster.

“Yeah… so I’ll be leaving.”

You slowly nod your head. He didn’t sound too confident with his answers, and at this point, you knew he was making this up. “Okay, no problem. But how are you gonna get there? I drove you, ya’ know.”

Sakusa averted his eyes from you, and to the window behind, and almost immediately, a red Lexus EX, with tinted windows, halted directly in front of the store. As you heard the tires screeching, you turned around to get a quick look, and before you knew it, Sakusa bolted out of Onigiri Miya, and almost instantly, got into the car.

You watched with so much confusion as the car sped away, wondering where everything within this situation went wrong. Soon enough, you could hear footsteps getting closer to you, yet you continued to look out the window.

“Did Sakusa just leave ya by yerself?” A deep voice spoke. You didn’t even have to look at the person to know who it was.

“Yeah, it was really weird. I’ve never seen him leave abruptly like that.” You can feel Osamu’s eyes on you, and as you turn around to look at him, you’re met with a view of his sculpted chest, yet, at a safe distance. The shirt he was wearing wasn’t even covering the outline of his upper body. 

You internally thanked God for this view, although eventually realized that you were quite literally just staring at his chest. You quickly shift your eyes to his face, only to be met with a smirk, which causes the tips of your ears to turn red. ‘Fuck.’ Is the only word appropriate enough to react with, because how else would you respond to this situation?

“Would ya like me to make yer onigiri to go? I doubt you’d wanna stay here by yerself.” Osamu asked, crossing his arms and keeping that smug look on his face.

You thought to yourself for a moment, and realized that this was your chance to learn more about him. And probably throw in a little flirting.

You put your right elbow on the table, and put your cheek in the palm of your hand, still keeping eye contact with Osamu. “Y’know, I would say yes, but I did come here for a reason.”

“Oh? Care ta’ elaborate?” 

You mentally shrieked like a teenage girl. You loved where this was going. “What fun would there be if I did, Miya?”

𐙚 OSAMU

‘Is this actually happening?’

You coming to Osamu’s store was already the highlight of his day, but this conversation the two of you are having? He can’t handle it. Just imagine how he feels – he’s been wanting to see you for almost a week, and his wish has been fulfilled. Even with more added to it!

Then, almost instantly, he had the best idea. ‘Should I do… it?’ He wondered. He didn’t want to come off as weird, but he thought of a way to continue this conversation, and see more of your face while working.

He let out a brief huff, and grabbed your plate with the five uneaten rice balls on it. 

“My food.” You whined, just loud enough for him to hear. He thought that was cute.

He then sets your dish at the counter that overlooks the kitchen, which could give whoever sits there a clear view of him and his employees, making the food.

He looks back at you, and motions for you to come and sit there. “I’ll keep ya company while ya eat.”

‘Was that slick enough?’ He asked himself, feeling unsure, but when he sees you pick up your necessities, and start walking to him, he can’t help but feel like he’s won the lottery.

𐙚 YOU

As you get closer, you watch the handsome man as he pulls out a specific chair for you, and you gladly take a seat. Then after, he pushes you in, and goes behind the counter, preparing to make more rice balls for his display case.

“Do you treat all your customers like this?” You asked, finally picking up one of your onigiri, and taking a bite out of it.

Osamu is directly in front of you, and as you’re chewing, your eyesight falls to his hands, looking through the glass, and watching the way he is sculpting the rice.

‘So he’s good with his hands, huh?’

“Eh, just the pretty ones.”

You immediately look back up at him, to see him already staring at you. You swallowed, and spoke. “Acting confident, are we?”

He chuckled, and began to wrap the onigiri he had just completed. “I’m just tellin’ it how I see it.”

You rolled your eyes while smiling, and took another bite of your food. “Thank you.”

Osamu briefly walked away to put the onigiri on display, which gave you some time to observe him, but from behind. You realized he had an upside down triangle body shape, which you found incredibly attractive. Your eyes then moved to his butt, and you cursed yourself in your head. ‘Why can’t mine be as big as his?’

“Oi, [L/N]. Ya checkin’ me out?” His voice startled you, causing you to instantly look anywhere else but him.

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You denied. He could see right through you. He knew you were staring at him, and truth to be told, he didn’t mind at all.

You move your eyes back to his face, and sigh, before taking another bite out of your onigiri.

“Whatever ya say.” He began to work on the next onigiri, and once more, you looked at the way his hands stuffed the rice with filling.

15:08.

Time had gone by since you were seated at the counter, and you were nearing the end of your little trip to Onigiri Miya. You had already finished all five of your onigiri towards the beginning of your conversation with him, but stayed to talk. You ended up learning more about him, and he learned about you. 

He told you that he was from the Hyogo prefecture, and he grew up with no other siblings besides Atsumu. He had also mentioned that he went to Inarizaki, and played volleyball as a kid, up until highschool. He was a wing spiker, and he was damn good at what he did. When it came down to you, you told him where you grew up, and how many siblings you have in contrast to him. You brought up the fact that you had played a couple of different sports when you were a kid, but didn’t have the passion to really continue as you grew older.

As the both of you were laughing at a joke you had made, you looked down at your phone, and saw the time. You had to leave for work now if you didn’t want to be late and risk getting lectured by one of your supervisors.

You sighed as you stood up, and handed Osamu your plate.

“Ya gotta go?” He asked, taking it from you, and putting it in the sink.

“Yeah, unfortunately I have work at 15:30.” 

He wanted to tell you something along the lines of ‘Who cares about your job? Just skip work and stay here with me!,’ but obviously, he couldn’t. Instead, he said with a thin lined smile, “Well, ya gotta do whatcha’ gotta do.”

You nodded as you stood up, and grabbed your necessities, shoving them in your pockets. You look at Osamu, and bow. “Thanks for keeping me company, Miya. You didn’t have to.”

He began to wave one of his hands in a dismissive way. “Ya don’t have to bow, [L/N]. In all honesty, I wanted to continue talking to ya. Yer a lighthearted person, and ya can’t find much of that nowadays.”

Your eyes literally twinkled at that compliment. “I appreciate that. For all that It’s worth, thanks for not being unamusing.” And with one final bow, you began to make your way to the door.

Your heart began to pound, due to the fact that you were proud of yourself. Proud of yourself for not acting awkward, and for having a good time with a ten out of ten. Before you could reach the door handle, said ten out of ten called out to you.

“Wait, [L/N].” You turned around to already see him walking to you, phone in his hand. You waited until he got close enough to you, and when he did, you both stood there, staring at each other. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but was hesitating.

Therefore, you took initiative. “Are you okay?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Then, almost instantly, he held out his phone, with the contact app already opened.

“Can I have yer number?”

You swore you almost fainted.

“U-uh, yeah! Sure.” You quickly muttered out, trying to hide the blush that was present on your face.

You also grabbed your phone and opened the contact app, ultimately, switching phones with each other.

𐙚 Bonus

14:39.

After Ongiri Miya was out of distance, Sakusa groaned, and looked at the individual who was driving the red Lexus. “Why do you drive like a maniac?”

“Nevermind that! Do you think she’s going to end up staying?”

Sakusa turned his head to look out the passenger window, and stayed silent for a couple of seconds, thinking about a proper answer. “In truth, I believe she’s going to stay. They seemed to take a liking to one another.”

A satisfied hum was used as a response by the driver, and after a few moments of tranquility between the two, Sakusa spoke once more.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting involved in a non-existent romantic relationship that isn’t yours, Hinata.”

The ginger rolled his eyes, and focused back on the road. “It might be non-existent now, Sakusa, but I get the vibe that they’re eventually going to end up together.” His mood lightened up, and he began to grin.

“Plus, we might see [L/N] soon. Why not help kickstart her future relationship?!”

authors notes !

𐙚 sorry that this chapter was long ! i kinda just word vomitted , and stuck with it .

𐙚 reblogs are always appreciated !

𐙚 i hope you enjoyed this chapter , my beloved reader-chan ! <3

taglist: @reuka1 @enepsigosthelast @arwawawa2 @miruac

[hisfavegirl]

Endless Battle Of Love- Modern!Jace Velaryon x Female.

Prologue, Chapter 1.

Word Count : 10.2k

Jacaerys Velaryon Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

The first thing you feel is warmth. Not just the warmth of the sun spilling through the curtains, but something else.

Something solid.

Something strong.

Your lashes flutter open, blinking against the golden light filtering into the room. For a moment, you’re disoriented, your mind still heavy with sleep. But then— Your breath catches.

Jace.

He’s right there. His arms are still wrapped securely around you, his body solid and unmoving beneath you. Your head rests against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat thrumming softly beneath your ear.

You froze.

Shit.

Slowly, everything from last night crashes back into your mind. The nightmare. The panic. The way you broke down in his arms. The way he held you.

You swallow hard, your fingers curling against his shirt. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep on top of him, hadn’t meant to practically cling to him all night and yet… Jace hadn’t let go either. Even in sleep, his arms are still wrapped tightly around your waist, his body still curled around yours like he needed to hold you.

Your chest tightens.

You should move.

You should.

But for the first time in so long, you feel safe. Still, you can’t just stay like this. Carefully, you begin to pull back, your movements slow and deliberate his arms tighten. You freeze.

Your eyes snap up to his face, but Jace’s breathing is still even, his lips slightly parted. His brows furrow just slightly, as if instinctively aware that you’re trying to leave.

Your heart skips.

You hold your breath, waiting to see if he’ll wake up. Seconds pass. He doesn’t. Relief washes over you, and you very slowly try again, inching away just enough to slip from his grip. Almost there— "Where do you think you’re going?"

Your body jerks.

You snap your gaze up to find Jace’s very awake golden-brown eyes locked onto you, sharp and focused despite the sleep still clinging to him. You swallow. "I—I was just—"

"Leaving me?" His voice is still rough from sleep, but there’s something in his tone—something dangerous. "After using me as your personal pillow all night?"

Your face burns. "I didn’t—"

"Shhh."

Your breath hitches as one of his hands loosens from around your waist, coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle. Too gentle. Your heart pounds. "Jace—"

"Stay," he murmurs and the way he says it—the command laced beneath the softness— You don’t move.

You hesitate for only a second before slowly relaxing back into Jace’s embrace. Immediately, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer.

This time, however, it’s different.

Last night, he had been careful—almost cautious—as if he was afraid of holding you too tightly. But now? Now, there’s a quiet possessiveness in the way he wraps around you.

His chin rests against the top of your head, his warmth completely surrounding you. You don’t know how long you lay like that, but eventually, you find your voice. "I should make us breakfast," you mumble against his chest. "You must be hungry."

Jace hums, his fingers idly tracing slow, lazy circles against your back. "That can wait," he murmurs. "Let’s stay like this a little longer."

Your stomach flutters.

"But it’s already late—"

"It’s our day off," Jace cuts in. "We don’t have any meetings, no schedules, nothing to do." You open your mouth to argue, but he shifts, nuzzling slightly into your hair.

"You’re comfortable," he says simply. "And I’m comfortable." Your breath catches. The words shouldn’t affect you the way they do, but there’s something about the way he says them—something firm.

Like a fact.

Like he’s already decided that you’re staying right here, in his arms, for as long as he wants.

Your fingers unconsciously clutch at his shirt, your heart hammering against your ribs. Jace notices. Of course he notices. You feel his lips curve slightly against your hair. "Relax, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice still husky with sleep. "You’re safe."

Your chest tightens.

You don’t know if he’s talking about last night—about what happened with your ex, about the nightmare that followed— Or if he’s talking about himself. Either way, you let out a slow, shaky breath, closing your eyes and for the first time in a long time… You let yourself believe him.

Your entire body freezes as the sound of the door creaking open reaches your ears. You barely have time to react before—

"Well, well, well."

Shit.

Your eyes snap toward the doorway, where Cregan Stark stands with his arms crossed, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. You don’t know what’s worse—the way his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you practically curled into Jace’s chest, or the way his lips twitch like he’s about to burst into laughter.

You panic.

Your hands fly to your thighs, hastily tugging down the hem of Jace’s oversized shirt, which had ridden up sometime during the night.

Cregan notices.

His grin widens.

"Ohhh, this is interesting—" He doesn’t get to finish. Because suddenly, a pillow flies across the room— And smacks him right in the face.

"Get the fuck out, Cregan!" Jace growls, his voice still rough with sleep. Cregan stumbles back slightly from the impact, but it does nothing to wipe the amusement off his face. "What? I just came to—" Another pillow hurtles toward him.

"Out!" Cregan dodges this time, laughing loudly as he raises his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! No need to get violent, Chairman Velaryon!"

Your face is on fire.

Jace is still seething beside you, his arm tightening slightly around your waist as if trying to shield you from Cregan’s teasing gaze.

"You have five seconds to leave before I throw something heavier," Jace warns, his tone deadly. Cregan chuckles, stepping back into the hallway. "Relax, man. I just wanted to check if you were coming to the office today—"

"We’re not." Jace snaps. "Now go." Cregan smirks, his eyes flickering toward you one last time before he salutes playfully. "Got it, boss."

And with that, he disappears, the door clicking shut behind him. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your hands still clutching at the hem of Jace’s shirt. Silence stretches between you.

Then—

"Are you really throwing pillows at people now?" you mumble, your voice slightly muffled as you press your hands over your burning face.

Jace scoffs, shifting slightly beneath you. "He deserved it."

You peek at him through your fingers. "He’s your best friend."

"He was about to become my dead best friend," Jace mutters darkly. "He saw you like this."

You blink. "Like… what?"

His golden-brown eyes flicker to your thighs— To the way you’re still half-draped over him, to the way his shirt barely covers you. Your breath hitches. Jace swallows hard. His jaw clenches and for a split second— Something dark flickers behind his gaze.

Then— "Nothing," he says, forcing himself to look away. "Just go back to sleep."

You hesitate. "Jace—"

"Go back to sleep," he repeats, this time softer and you don’t know why, but something about the way he says it makes your heart stutter. So you don’t argue. You let yourself relax against him once more, pressing your face into his chest. His heartbeat is faster now and for the first time— You wonder if it’s because of you.

Jace steps out of the bedroom quietly, careful not to wake you. His fingers linger on the doorknob for a second longer than necessary before he finally sighs and makes his way downstairs.

He finds Cregan in the living room, lazily sprawled on the couch with a cup of coffee in his hand. The moment Cregan sees him, he grins.

"So," Cregan drawls, setting his coffee down. "How was sleeping with your secretary?" Jace doesn't even hesitate. He grabs a pillow from the couch and hurls it straight at Cregan’s face.

"Fuck off," Jace mutters, running a hand through his disheveled curls.

Cregan just laughs, unfazed. "Come on, you can’t blame me! I walked in, and she was practically wrapped around you like some clingy little thing. You looked—"

"Cregan." Jace’s voice is sharp. Cregan stops, eyeing him carefully and then— His smirk falters. Jace exhales roughly, collapsing onto the couch across from him. "It’s not like that," he mutters, rubbing his temples. "Last night was… a lot."

Cregan leans forward. "Talk to me."*

Jace is silent for a moment. Then, without looking up, he speaks. "Her fiancé— no, her ex—was blackmailing her."

Cregan’s expression shifts immediately. "What?"

"That bastard recorded her—" Jace's jaw clenches. "—without her knowing. That’s why she stayed with him. He trapped her."

Cregan swears under his breath. "That sick fuck—"

"It’s handled," Jace cuts in. "Aemond and Aegon took care of it." Cregan stares at him. "...Took care of it how?" Jace doesn’t answer.

Cregan sighs. "Right. I probably don’t wanna know."

Silence stretches between them. Jace leans back, his head tilting up toward the ceiling. "She had a nightmare last night."

Cregan watches him carefully. "And?"

Jace’s fingers twitch against his knee. "And I—" He exhales sharply. "—I nearly lost it."

Cregan raises an eyebrow. "Define ‘lost it’."

Jace doesn’t answer right away. His mind replays the way you had curled into him last night, the way your body had trembled against his. The way you had moaned in that goddamn video—

Jace inhales sharply, shaking his head. "She was crying in her sleep, Cregan." His voice is tight. "She was whimpering like she was still stuck there—like he was still touching her. I just—" His hands clench into fists. "I wanted to kill him."

Cregan’s brows furrow slightly. "Jace—"

"And then," Jace continues, his voice almost a growl, "when she woke up? She looked at me like I was the only thing keeping her safe." Cregan stays silent, watching his friend with knowing eyes.

Jace exhales roughly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "I—" He pauses, his fingers threading through his curls. "I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me."

Cregan lets out a small chuckle. "Oh, I do."

Jace glares at him. "Cregan—"

"You’re obsessed with her," Cregan states simply. "And you have been for a while."

Jace freezes.

Cregan grins. "Come on, man. You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been looking at her like she’s the only woman in the world since day one."

Jace grits his teeth. "I was just—"

"Protecting her?" Cregan cuts in, raising an eyebrow. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that, boss."

Jace scowls. "Go to hell."

Cregan only laughs. "Already on my way, brother. But you? You're screwed." Jace groans, leaning back against the couch and running a hand down his face. And for the first time, he wonders if Cregan is right.

Jace and Cregan were still speaking in hushed tones, their voices low to avoid waking you. "So, what’s your plan now?" Cregan asked, sipping his coffee. "You can't just keep her locked in here forever, you know."

Jace ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "She needs time. She just went through hell. I’m not throwing her back into the office like nothing happened."

"And after that?" Cregan pressed. "You think she’s just gonna act like this whole thing never happened? You think you can go back to just being her boss?"

Jace didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at the coffee in his hands, his grip tightening slightly around the mug. Cregan sighed. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

Upstairs, you had already woken up. The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You had taken a shower, letting the hot water wash away the lingering fear and exhaustion from last night.

Now, standing in front of Jace’s wardrobe, you hesitated before reaching for something to wear. The only thing available was his clothes. You had worn his oversized t-shirt earlier, but this time, you decided to put on one of his white button-up shirts.

The fabric was soft against your skin, the scent of Jace lingering in the material. It was big on you—too big—but at least it covered your body properly. Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the room, making your way downstairs. As you entered the living room, both men turned toward you.

Jace's gaze darkened immediately. His eyes swept over you—his shirt hanging loosely over your frame, the way the collar dipped slightly, revealing just a hint of your collarbone. You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense stare.

"Morning," you said softly.

Cregan smirked. "Well, look who’s finally up."

You walked closer, hesitating for a moment before taking a seat on the couch. "How are you feeling?" Jace asked, his voice softer now.

You exhaled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Better," you admitted. "Thank you… for last night."

Jace nodded, his gaze still fixed on you. "You don’t have to thank me."

Cregan leaned back in his chair. "Alright, I feel like I’m intruding on something here," he teased. "Maybe I should go."

"You should," Jace said flatly.

Cregan let out a laugh. "Damn. Not even subtle about it."

You shook your head, hiding a small smile. Jace stood up and walked to the kitchen. "You should eat something," he said, glancing at you over his shoulder. "Come on, I’ll make you breakfast."

You blinked. "You can cook?"

"I’m not completely useless," Jace muttered.

Cregan chuckled. "Debatable."

Jace shot him a glare before disappearing into the kitchen. You turned to Cregan, curiosity getting the better of you. "What were you two talking about before I came down?"

Cregan smirked. "Oh, you know. Just about how obsessed Jace is with you."

Your breath hitched slightly. "He’s not obsessed with me," you said, but even you weren’t sure if you believed it.

Cregan raised an eyebrow. "Right. Sure."

You hesitated, your fingers playing with the hem of Jace’s shirt. "He’s just being… protective."

Cregan leaned forward slightly. "Listen, sweetheart. I’ve known Jace for a long time. And I’ve never seen him act this way over anyone. Ever."

Your heart skipped a beat. Cregan grinned. "You might not see it yet, but trust me… he’s completely gone for you."

Before you could say anything, Jace reappeared with a plate of food. "What the hell are you telling her?"

Cregan only smirked. "Nothing you wouldn’t admit to yourself eventually."

Jace shot him a warning look before turning his attention to you. "Come eat."

You nodded, taking the plate from him. As you did, your fingers brushed against his. The contact was brief, but it sent a small shiver up your spine. Jace noticed. His eyes flicked to yours, something unreadable in his expression. Cregan stretched, standing up. "Alright, I’m out. You two lovebirds enjoy breakfast."

"Cregan," Jace warned.

"Later," Cregan said with a grin before walking out.

The door shut behind him, leaving you alone with Jace. You cleared your throat, picking up a fork. "So… what’s the plan for today?"

Jace leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "We’re staying in. You need to rest."

You frowned. "Jace, I can’t just—"

"You can," he interrupted. "And you will."

You huffed, setting your fork down. "You’re acting like I’m fragile."

Jace’s jaw tightened. "You are fragile. After everything that happened, you need time to recover."

Your gaze softened. "Jace…"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just… I don’t want you to force yourself to act like everything’s okay when it’s not."

Your heart ached at his words. He wasn’t just your boss—he was someone who genuinely cared and maybe, just maybe, Cregan was right. Maybe Jace cared too much.

Jace wasn’t paying attention to the TV. Not even a little.

His eyes were on you—the way your lips curved into a soft smile, the way you hugged your knees to your chest, completely at ease in his oversized shirt. You were laughing at something on the screen, completely unaware of the thoughts racing through his head.

He never imagined this scenario would actually happen. You, in his home. Wearing his clothes. Sleeping in his bed.

Well… maybe he had imagined it once or twice. Late at night. Before falling asleep. But not like this. Not with you still haunted by the memory of him. Jace exhaled sharply, leaning back against the couch. You turned your head slightly, noticing his expression. "Jace?"

"Hm?"

"You’re staring."

He blinked, caught off guard. "Am I?"

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the screen. "You’re acting weird today."

"Weird how?"

"I don’t know… distracted?" You glanced at him again. "Are you okay?"

Jace hesitated. He could lie, brush it off. But something in your voice made him pause. "Yeah," he said, voice lower than usual. "I’m fine."

You didn’t seem convinced, but you didn’t press further. Instead, you turned your attention back to the show.

A comfortable silence settled between you.

But Jace couldn’t focus.

His mind was stuck on the way you looked in his shirt, the way you felt curled up against him last night, how your breath had tickled his neck as you slept.

And worse, his mind kept drifting back to that damn video. The raw panic in your voice. The way you had been used. Jace clenched his jaw, gripping the edge of the couch. The thought of him—your ex—touching you, forcing you, recording you without your consent—

"Jace?"

Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

You were looking at him with concern now, your brows slightly furrowed. "Are you sure you’re okay?" He exhaled through his nose, forcing his body to relax. "Yeah."

You stared at him for a long moment, then shifted closer. "Do you want to talk about it?" Jace scoffed. "Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?"

"Maybe," you admitted. "But right now, I feel like you’re the one who needs to talk."

Jace let out a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s nothing. Just… thinking."

"About?"

"About what happened. About him." His expression darkened. "And what I should’ve done sooner."

You swallowed. "Jace… it’s over now. He can’t hurt me anymore."

"Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hurt him." His voice was sharp, filled with something dangerous. You reached out, hesitating slightly before resting a hand on his arm. "Don’t do anything reckless. Please."

Jace exhaled slowly. "I won’t."

You tilted your head. "Liar."

That made him smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"I just hate that I couldn’t protect you sooner," he admitted. "That I didn’t notice."

Your chest tightened. "Jace, none of this was your fault."

"Maybe not. But it doesn’t change the fact that I want to make sure nothing like this ever happens again." His hand lifted, almost unconsciously, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His fingers lingered against your cheek for a second too long before he pulled away. "And that means keeping you close."

Your breath hitched slightly. "How close?"

Jace’s blue eyes darkened. "Close enough that no one else gets to touch you."

A shiver ran down your spine.

"Jace…"

"I know." His voice was rough, low. "I know I shouldn’t be saying this. But after last night… after knowing what he did to you—" He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. "I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else."

Your heart pounded.

This was Jace—your boss. Your obsessive, overprotective boss who had been crossing lines ever since that night and yet… You weren’t stopping him.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "Jace… I just need time."

He stayed silent, watching you carefully. "I’m still trying to deal with everything. The nightmares, the fear…" You swallowed hard. "I can’t rush into something when I’m still trying to put myself back together."

Jace’s jaw clenched slightly, but then, to your relief, he nodded. "I get it," he said, voice softer than before. "I won’t push you."

You felt some of the tension in your chest loosen. "Thank you."

Jace exhaled, running a hand through his curls. "But just so we’re clear—" His gaze locked onto yours. "I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait as long as you need."

A warmth spread through you at his words, at the sincerity in his expression. "That means a lot to me, Jace."

He gave you a small smile. "Good."* Then, as if trying to shift the mood, he glanced at his watch. "Anyway, we should probably head out soon."

You blinked. "Head out?"

"Yeah. Shopping."

"Shopping?"

"For clothes." You frowned slightly. "Jace, I have clothes."*

"Do you?" He smirked, eyeing the oversized shirt you were still wearing. "Because all I’ve seen you wear for the past day is my stuff."

Your face burned. "That’s because I didn’t have anything else!"

"Exactly."

You rolled your eyes. "I can just go home and grab some of my own clothes."

Jace’s expression darkened instantly. "You’re not going back there."

Your stomach twisted. "Jace—"

"No." His voice was firm. You wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes told you it was useless. You sighed. "Fine. But I don’t need anything fancy. Just something simple."

Jace smirked. "Yeah, yeah. We’ll see." Something about the way he said it made you nervous.

The store was filled with racks of clothes that seemed perfectly chosen for the season, with soft lighting and music playing in the background. But Your fingers froze on the fabric of the dress you were holding. The voice was unmistakable, sending an unpleasant chill down your spine.

Slowly, you turned, and your stomach twisted when your gaze landed on him—one of his friends. His smirk was dripping with malice as he looked between you and Jace, eyes gleaming with sick amusement.

"So it’s true," he sneered, arms crossed. "You really are just a cheap slut who jumps into another man’s bed the second things get hard."*

You felt like you had been punched in the gut.

Jace, who had been flipping through a rack of clothes beside you, stilled. His entire posture changed in an instant—his shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched, and when he turned to look at the man, his eyes were dark with fury.

"What did you just say?" Jace’s voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge of pure danger underneath.

The guy scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I mean, look at her." He gestured toward you mockingly. "Still parading around in another man’s shirt like some desperate little thing. You didn’t even try to pretend, did you? No wonder—"

The words were cut off with a sharp crack.

You barely registered what had happened before the man stumbled back, clutching his face in shock. Jace stood in front of you now, his fist still clenched, his breathing heavy.

"Say one more word," Jace’s voice was calm—too calm. "I fucking dare you."

The man’s face twisted in anger. "You think you can—"

Jace grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him close until they were nearly nose to nose. "You and your pathetic little friends think you can intimidate her?" His voice dropped lower, his grip tightening. "Do you have any idea who you’re messing with?"

The man swallowed hard, his earlier arrogance faltering under Jace’s deadly gaze. "Jace," you whispered, placing a hesitant hand on his arm. "Let him go."

Jace didn’t move for a long moment, his chest rising and falling in barely contained rage. But then, with a disgusted scoff, he shoved the man back.

"Get the fuck out of here before I break your fucking jaw," Jace growled.

The man hesitated only for a second before scrambling to his feet and practically running out of the store. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Jace turned to you, his expression still stormy. "Are you okay?"

You nodded slowly, though your hands were still shaking. "Yeah. I just… I wasn’t expecting that."*

Jace exhaled sharply, running a hand through his curls. "He won’t come near you again."* His voice was firm, his eyes locking onto yours. "None of them will."

You swallowed. "Jace…"

"Come here," he murmured, reaching for you. You didn’t hesitate. You stepped into his arms, letting his warmth envelop you as he held you close.

Jace froze.

Your whispered confession sent ice through his veins, his grip on you tightening unconsciously. His entire body tensed as the words replayed in his head, as if his mind was refusing to believe what he had just heard.

You felt his arms tremble slightly around you.

"What did you just say?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but the rage simmering beneath it was unmistakable.

You swallowed, your fingers clutching onto the fabric of his shirt. "They… sometimes they would take turns," you whispered again, your voice almost too soft to be heard. "I didn’t know how to stop them. I thought if I just—if I just stayed quiet, it would be over faster."

Jace’s breath turned ragged, his heartbeat pounding against your ear where your head rested against his chest.

"I’ll kill them."* The words were spoken so softly, so calmly, yet they dripped with pure, unfiltered hatred. "I swear to god, I’ll kill them."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like it might break. His hands, still gripping you, were shaking. His eyes—those usually warm brown eyes—were dark, hollow, filled with an emotion so raw it scared you.

"Jace," you whispered, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. "I’ll be okay… as long as you’re with me."

His breath hitched at your words. His entire body seemed to be at war with itself—rage battling against the desperate need to protect you, to comfort you, to make sure you never had to feel that kind of fear again.

"You don’t understand," he said, voice shaking. "This isn’t something I can just let go, sweetheart. They don’t get to walk away after what they did to you."

You shook your head gently, your fingers tracing along his jaw. "I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret."

"The only thing I’ll regret is not making them suffer enough."

Your heart ached at his words. You knew Jace was not a violent man by nature, but you also knew that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for the people he cared about. And right now, you were at the center of his entire world.

You leaned up slightly, pressing your forehead against his. "I just need you," you whispered, closing your eyes. "I need you to be here. That’s enough for me."

Jace exhaled shakily, his hands slowly moving up your back, holding you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world.

"I’m here," he murmured. "I’m not going anywhere." For the first time in a long, long time, you believed it.

Jace carefully put the car into park and turned off the engine. The drive home had been quiet, aside from the soft sound of your breathing as you slept. You looked peaceful now, curled up slightly in your seat, your new clothes in a shopping bag at your feet. But all Jace could hear in his head were your words from earlier.

"They sometimes took turns."

He gritted his teeth, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. His jaw clenched so hard that it ached. The rage inside him had been simmering all day, barely contained beneath the surface, but he forced himself to stay calm. This wasn’t about him. This wasn’t about his anger. This was about you. And you needed rest, not the weight of his fury.

Jace exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head before turning to you.

"Sweetheart," he murmured softly, reaching over to brush his fingers gently against your cheek. "We’re home." You didn’t stir.

Jace huffed out a small, exasperated laugh, but there was nothing but warmth in his gaze as he looked at you. He hesitated for a moment before carefully undoing your seatbelt. Then, with an ease that only came naturally to him, he slid his arms underneath you and lifted you into his arms.

You barely even reacted, only letting out a soft sigh as you instinctively curled into his chest.

Jace swallowed thickly.

Holding you like this—so close, so trusting—made his protective instincts flare even more. He had no idea how you had survived everything you had gone through, how you were still standing, still smiling despite everything. But you shouldn’t have had to survive it and that was something Jace would never forgive.

He walked into the house with steady steps, kicking the door shut behind him. The house was dimly lit, silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. He carried you upstairs, straight to his bedroom, lowering you gently onto the bed.

You mumbled something incoherent in your sleep, shifting slightly, but didn’t wake.

Jace let out a breath, brushing a few stray strands of hair from your face. His fingers lingered against your cheek before he forced himself to pull away. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair, his mind still clouded with thoughts of your past.

Jace knew what needed to be done. He pulled out his phone, walking toward the balcony to make a call. The night air was cool against his skin, but his blood was still boiling. He pressed the phone to his ear and waited for the familiar voice on the other end.

"Jace," Aemond’s voice was sharp, knowing. "Tell me."

"It’s worse than we thought," Jace said, his voice low, dangerous. "Much worse." There was silence for a moment. Then Aemond sighed. "I’ll handle it."

"No." Jace’s grip on his phone tightened. "I want to be there."*

"Jace—"

"I need to be there," Jace snapped. "You don’t understand. They didn’t just hurt her, Aemond. They destroyed her. I want them to see my face before they beg for their lives."

Aemond was quiet again. Then, finally, "I’ll send you the details."* Jace ended the call and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he turned back to look at you, still fast asleep on his bed, his expression softened. He would take care of this. For you. For everything they had done to you.

Jace was focused on chopping vegetables when the familiar sound of heels clicking against the floor made him pause. He looked up just in time to see his mother, Rhaenyra, stepping into the kitchen, her sharp eyes scanning the space before landing on him.

"Cooking, are we?" she mused, arching an eyebrow. "That’s new." Jace sighed, setting the knife down. "Mother." He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel before turning to face her fully. "Thanks for coming."*

Rhaenyra gave him a knowing look, removing her coat and draping it over a chair. "You said it was important."*

Jace nodded, glancing toward the stairs before lowering his voice. "She’s asleep upstairs."*

Rhaenyra tilted her head slightly. "She?"

"Her name is—" Jace hesitated, then shook his head with a small chuckle. "I guess you’ll meet her soon enough."

Rhaenyra’s lips curled into a small smirk. "You’ve never invited me over to meet a woman before. Should I be flattered?"

Jace rolled his eyes. "It’s not like that. She…" He trailed off, running a hand through his hair before exhaling. "She’s been through hell, Mother. Worse than you can imagine."*

That made Rhaenyra pause. The teasing glint in her eyes faded slightly, replaced by something more serious. "Tell me."*

Jace clenched his jaw, staring at the cutting board for a moment before speaking. "She was trapped in an engagement with a bastard who abused her." His fingers curled into fists. "And not just him. His friends. They took turns—"

Rhaenyra inhaled sharply. "God."

"And he had leverage over her." Jace’s voice was tight, controlled rage lacing every word. "A video. He was threatening to release it if she left him."

Rhaenyra’s expression darkened, her shoulders tensing. "Where is he now?"

"Handled." Jace didn’t elaborate, and Rhaenyra didn’t ask. She knew what that meant. "But she’s still scared, Mother. I can’t leave her alone, not even for a second."

"And yet, you’re leaving tonight."* Rhaenyra’s tone was pointed. "Why?"

Jace hesitated, but there was no point in hiding it from her. "Because I need to make sure this never happens again. To her, or to anyone else."

Rhaenyra watched him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. "You’re your father’s son," she murmured. "Too much of him, sometimes."

Jace swallowed hard. His father. A man of action, not words. A protector. "Stay with her tonight," Jace said after a pause. "She trusts me, but I don’t want her to be alone."

Rhaenyra softened slightly, stepping forward to place a hand on his cheek. "Of course I’ll stay."

Jace exhaled, nodding. "Thank you."

Rhaenyra smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Go do what you have to do. But Jace…" She narrowed her gaze. "Come back to her in one piece."

Jace smirked slightly. "I will."

At that moment, they heard soft footsteps descending the stairs. Jace turned just as you appeared in the doorway, rubbing your eyes sleepily, still wearing his oversized shirt. You blinked in confusion when you saw Rhaenyra. "Oh…" Your voice was still groggy. "We have a guest?"

Jace smiled and gestured to his mother. "Yeah. This is my mother, Rhaenyra."

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her gaze softening. "You must be the woman my son can’t stop thinking about."

Your eyes widened slightly, glancing at Jace, who groaned. "Mother."

Rhaenyra only smirked. "Come, sit. Jace was cooking something, though whether it’s edible remains to be seen." Jace rolled his eyes, and you let out a small laugh. For the first time in a long time, things felt… light. Safe. Even if you didn’t know what was coming next.

You frowned slightly as you watched Jace grab his leather jacket from the chair, sliding it over his shoulders with practiced ease. There was something about the way he moved—controlled, purposeful, but also… tense. Like he was bracing himself for something.

"Where are you going?" you asked, your arms crossing over your chest.

Jace glanced at you briefly, then at his mother, Rhaenyra, who was watching the exchange silently from her seat. He exhaled through his nose, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket. "I just have to take care of something."

You didn’t like that answer. "Take care of what?"

"It’s nothing you need to worry about." His voice was even, calm, but you could tell he was deflecting.

"That’s not an answer, Jace." You stepped closer to him, tilting your head. "Why won’t you just tell me?"

Jace clenched his jaw slightly, his hands tightening at his sides. "Because it’s not something you should be involved in."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Is this about—" You hesitated, your voice lowering. "—him?"

Jace didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked down, inhaling deeply before meeting your gaze again. "I just need to make sure this is over."

Something in his tone sent a chill down your spine. You weren’t naïve—you knew what kind of power Jace had, what kind of family he belonged to. His mother, Rhaenyra, and her brothers, Aemond and Aegon, weren’t just businessmen. They weren’t just wealthy elites. They were dangerous. And now, you were starting to realize just how far Jace was willing to go for you.

"Jace, you don’t have to—"

"Yes, I do." His voice was firm, unwavering. "I won’t let him haunt you anymore."

You swallowed hard. "But what if something happens to you?"

For the first time that night, Jace’s expression softened. He stepped closer, reaching up to brush his fingers against your cheek. "Nothing will happen to me," he murmured. "I promise."

You hated this. Hated that he was walking into something dangerous for you. Hated that you felt powerless to stop him. "Please don’t go." Your voice was barely a whisper. Jace sighed, his thumb tracing slow circles against your cheek. "I have to."

You clenched your fists, feeling frustration and fear twist in your chest. "Then take me with you."

Rhaenyra, who had been silent until now, let out a small chuckle. "That won’t be happening."

You turned toward her, frowning. "Why not?"

"Because," she said smoothly, standing up and adjusting the rings on her fingers, "you’ll be staying with me tonight. And I don’t take no for an answer."

You felt your frustration build, but Jace gently squeezed your wrist, drawing your attention back to him. "Stay here," he urged softly. "Please. Just for tonight."

You hated this. But you hated the thought of him walking away even more. Reluctantly, you nodded. "Fine."

Jace smiled slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back. "I’ll be back soon."

You watched as he walked out the door, the sound of his footsteps fading into the night. Something told you that when he returned… things wouldn’t be the same.

Jace stepped out of his car, his blood running hot as he took in the sight before him. Rows of black SUVs lined the abandoned warehouse, their tinted windows hiding the men inside. He recognized them instantly—Aemond’s and Aegon’s people. Loyal. Efficient. Ruthless.

His jaw clenched as he stalked toward the entrance, barely sparing a glance at the two men standing guard. They nodded in acknowledgment, stepping aside to let him through without a word. The heavy metal door groaned as he pushed it open, revealing the dimly lit interior of the warehouse.

The scent of blood and sweat hit him first. The muffled groans followed.

Aegon was the first person he saw. He leaned casually against a wooden crate, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, looking entirely at ease. His hair was slightly disheveled, his expensive suit speckled with something dark—blood, most likely.

"Took you long enough," Aegon drawled, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "We were starting to have fun without you."

Jace barely acknowledged him, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the group of men in the center.

They were barely recognizable. Bruised. Bloodied. Tied to chairs. Some slumped over, barely conscious. Aemond stood among them, pristine as always, his single blue eye gleaming under the dim light. He held a bloodied knife in his gloved hand, turning it over between his fingers with a bored expression.

"You’re late," Aemond remarked, his voice smooth as silk. "We were just getting started."

Jace ignored the chill that ran down his spine. He had grown up around violence, around men like Aegon and Aemond, but he had never let himself sink into it the way they had. Yet tonight… tonight felt different.

His gaze landed on your ex-fiancé—the man who had haunted you for so long. The man who had tormented you. Jace’s hands curled into fists. "Untie him."*

Aemond arched a brow, but didn’t question it. He simply nodded toward one of his men, who stepped forward and cut the ropes binding the bastard to the chair.

Your ex slumped forward, coughing, spitting blood onto the concrete floor. When he looked up and saw Jace, he managed a weak, bitter laugh. "Ah… look who it is. The fucking knight in shining armor."

Jace didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He simply stepped forward—one, two, three paces—before swinging his fist.

A sickening crack echoed through the warehouse as his knuckles connected with your ex’s jaw. The man let out a strangled noise, his head snapping to the side, but Jace didn’t stop. He grabbed him by the collar, hauling him up before slamming him back down onto the chair.

"You think you can do whatever you want and get away with it?" Jace’s voice was eerily calm, but the fury burning in his eyes was anything but. "You think you can hurt her and just walk away?"

Your ex spat out more blood, grinning through crimson-stained teeth. "What’s the matter, boss? Jealous that you can't fuck her like i did?"

Jace punched him again. Harder.

"She begged," the bastard continued, his voice rasping. "She moaned. She fucking loved it—"

Jace saw red.

The next thing he knew, he was on top of him, his fists colliding over and over with his face, his ribs, his gut. The bastard coughed and wheezed, but Jace didn’t stop.

"Say her name," he growled between blows. "Say her name, you coward."

Your ex-fiancé choked, struggling for air, but Jace didn’t let up. His knuckles split, blood—his or the bastard’s, he didn’t know—dripped onto the concrete.

"Enough," Aemond’s voice finally cut through the chaos.

Jace barely registered the hand gripping his shoulder, pulling him back. His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision blurred with fury. "He’s not worth dirtying your hands over," Aemond murmured, his voice almost amused. "We’ll handle the rest."

Jace hesitated, his entire body trembling. He wanted to keep going. He wanted to make sure this bastard never had the chance to hurt you—or anyone—again.

But Aemond was right.

Jace let out a sharp breath, pushing himself to his feet. He took one last look at the man bleeding out beneath him. "If I ever hear your name again… if I ever see you near her…" He leaned in, his voice deadly quiet. "You won’t be so lucky next time."*

Jace straightened, wiping the blood from his split knuckles onto his pants before turning away. Aegon chuckled, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Didn’t think you had it in you, nephew."

Jace wiped the blood from his knuckles, his breath still ragged as he stepped back. His heart pounded against his ribs, not from exertion, but from the raw fury still coursing through his veins. He wanted to keep going. He wanted to make them feel even an ounce of the pain they had inflicted on you. But then he remembered—this isn’t about me. It’s about her.

He turned, his gaze locking onto Aemond and Aegon, who watched him with knowing eyes. Aegon still had that smirk on his lips, but it had lost its usual arrogance. Aemond, ever the unreadable one, simply tilted his head slightly, studying Jace like he was something new. Something unfamiliar.

Jace exhaled sharply before speaking, his voice eerily calm but laced with something dark. "She told me something today."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, but Aemond didn’t move.

"She told me how they took turns," Jace continued, his fists clenching again. "How they held her down. How they laughed. How they made her beg."

Aegon’s smirk disappeared entirely. Aemond’s expression darkened.

Jace took a slow, measured step forward, his gaze never leaving theirs. "And you know what she said after that?" His voice wavered, but it wasn’t with weakness—it was with restrained rage. "She told me she would be okay… as long as I was there."*

Silence.

The air in the warehouse shifted, turning heavy, suffocating. Aegon and Aemond weren’t easily shaken, but now? Now they looked like statues, frozen in place, their expressions unreadable.

Because they knew.

They knew what those words meant.

Jace let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "She was trembling, sobbing into my chest, and she still had the strength to tell me she would be okay. But I saw it—I saw how broken she was. I heard it in her voice. I felt it in the way she clung to me."*

He looked down at his bloodied hands, disgusted. "And I just stood there, helpless, while she suffered alone for so long."*

Aemond’s jaw tensed, and Aegon muttered a curse under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

Jace finally looked back at them, his eyes colder than they had ever been. "So tell me—tell me why I shouldn’t rip them apart with my own hands."*

Aemond was the one who answered, his voice low, controlled. "Because that’s not your job, Jacaerys."* His eye flicked toward the barely breathing men on the floor. "It’s ours."*

Jace clenched his jaw, but he knew Aemond was right. He didn’t belong in this world, not like they did. But for you? He would burn everything down.

Aegon sighed, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. "We’ll take care of it," he said, his tone surprisingly serious. "They’ll never touch her again. They won’t even exist when we’re done."

Jace stood still, his breathing still uneven as he watched Aemond crouch down in front of your ex-fiancé, pressing the cold barrel of his gun against the man’s temple. The pathetic excuse of a man whimpered, his body trembling violently. Blood dripped from his swollen lip, mixing with the sweat on his face.

Aemond tilted his head, his single eye glowing with something far more dangerous than rage—it was amusement. Contempt. "You know," he started, his voice soft, eerily calm, "I’ve done many things in my life. I’ve killed men. I’ve burned down businesses. I’ve taken apart people, piece by piece. But you?" A small, humorless smirk pulled at his lips. "You disgust me."*

The man whimpered, shaking his head frantically. "P-please—"

"Please?" Aemond echoed mockingly. "Oh, that’s rich. Did she beg you? Did she cry? Did she plead for mercy?" His voice dropped lower, sharp as a blade. "And what did you do? Laugh? Tell her to be a good girl?"

Jace clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms. He wanted to tear the man apart. He wanted to make him suffer. But he had done his part. This was Aemond and Aegon’s world now.

Aemond pressed the gun harder against the man’s forehead, making him flinch. "You see, we have rules," he continued, his voice laced with venom. "We kill. We manipulate. We control. But we don’t do what you did." His eye darkened, his lips curling in disgust. "We don’t prey on the weak. We don’t break something so completely that it may never heal."

The man let out a choked sob, his body jerking as he tried to move away, but Aegon was behind him, pushing him back down with a forceful grip. "You don’t deserve an easy death," Aegon muttered, his usual arrogance replaced with something cold.

Jace turned away, inhaling deeply through his nose. "Make it slow," he murmured. "Make him feel every second of it." Aemond chuckled darkly, finally pulling the safety off his gun. "Oh, don't worry, nephew." His voice was smooth, almost gentle. "We intend to."

Jace didn’t stay to watch. He had no interest in what happened next. His mind was already back with you. With your soft voice, your trembling hands, your fragile smile. You had told him you would be okay as long as he was by your sidea and he had promised himself—no one would ever hurt you again.

Jace’s breath hitched, his heart pounding violently in his chest. His fingers curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms so hard they nearly broke skin. He turned swiftly, his eyes burning with fury as he stalked toward the man who had spoken.

"What did you just say?" His voice was dangerously low, a sharp contrast to the sheer rage radiating off him.

The bastard smirked, lips curling in amusement. "You heard me," he sneered. "There’s more. Some where she was fully woke up... and some where she wasn’t."

Aemond’s grip on his gun tightened. Even Aegon, who usually had a twisted sense of humor, had gone still, his expression unreadable.

Jace lunged, grabbing the man by his shirt and yanking him so close their noses nearly touched. "Where?" he growled, his breath hot and heavy. "Where are the videos stored?"

The man chuckled, completely unfazed by the sheer malice in Jace’s tone. "You think I’d tell you?" he taunted. "It doesn’t matter anyway. The upload is already set. Three hours from now, and the whole world will see just how much of a whore she really is."*

Something inside Jace snapped. Without thinking, he pulled back his fist and slammed it into the man’s face with all the strength he had. The impact sent a sickening crack through the air, blood spraying as the man’s head jerked to the side.

"Talk," Jace hissed, his voice a whisper of pure, unfiltered rage. "Tell me where it is, or I swear on my life, I will make you wish you were dead."*

Aemond stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Jace’s shoulder. "Give me five minutes," he murmured, his voice eerily calm. "He’ll talk."*

Jace didn’t hesitate. He let go, stepping back as Aemond crouched in front of the bleeding man.

"Now, now " Aemond said, adjusting his grip on his gun, "let’s play a game. Every time you lie, I take something from you."

The man’s face paled, his smirk faltering for the first time. "Y-you wouldn’t—"

Aemond fired.

The room echoed with the deafening sound of a gunshot. The man let out a bloodcurdling scream, clutching his hand where his pinky finger used to be. Blood dripped onto the floor, pooling around his trembling body.

"That was just for fun," Aemond mused, tilting his head. "Now, let’s try again." Jace watched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He didn’t care what Aemond had to do. He didn’t care how much blood was spilled.

All he cared about was you and he would burn the world before he let it hurt you again.

Jace’s patience had worn dangerously thin. His hands trembled with unrestrained fury as he snatched the gun from Aemond, ignoring the sharp warning look his uncle shot him. He didn’t care. There was no time left.

He pressed the cold barrel of the gun against the bastard’s forehead, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. "Where is it?" he barked, his voice raw with barely contained rage. "I swear to the god, if you don’t tell me right now, I will splatter your fucking brains all over this floor!"

The man whimpered, his eyes darting between Jace and Aemond. He was shaking now, his bloodied hands twitching as he tried to inch away. "You... you wouldn’t—"

Jace clicked the safety off. "Try me."

Aegon, who had been leaning lazily against the wall, whistled low. "I’d talk if I were you," he said casually. "Jace isn’t usually like this. But when he snaps? Well... you’ve seen what happens."

Aemond, still crouched beside them, smirked. "I’d say you have about ten seconds before he actually pulls the trigger."

"Alright! Alright!" The man’s voice cracked, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. "It’s... it’s in my phone!"*

Jace narrowed his eyes. "Bullshit," he spat. "We already took your phone. There's nothing there."*

"No—no!" he stammered. "It’s backed up! Cloud storage! There’s a scheduled upload! It’s linked to my laptop!"

Jace’s grip on the gun tightened. "Where is it?"

"My apartment!" the man gasped. "The files are on my laptop in my apartment! The password is in my notes app! I—I swear that’s all there is!"

Jace exchanged a glance with Aemond, his chest rising and falling rapidly. There was no way he could take this bastard’s word for it.

"Aegon," Jace growled, "get his phone and unlock it. Now."

Aegon pushed off the wall with a sigh, fishing the man’s phone from his pocket. "What’s the password?" he asked lazily, flipping the device in his hand.

The man swallowed hard. "My birthday... zero five, twenty-three, ninety-two."

Aegon smirked. "Cute." He tapped the numbers in, and sure enough, the screen unlocked. He scrolled for a moment before letting out a satisfied hum. "Notes app... here we go."

Jace didn’t lower the gun, his heart still hammering against his ribs. "Aemond, go. Get to that apartment and wipe everything."

Aemond didn’t hesitate. He stood, adjusting his coat. "Give me twenty minutes."

As he turned to leave, the man beneath Jace whimpered, "You said you wouldn’t kill me!"

Jace let out a humorless laugh, pressing the gun even harder against his skull. "I never said that."

Jace’s breathing was ragged, his hands gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. His pulse pounded in his ears as he scrolled through the files, each one labeled with cruel, mocking names. Twenty four videos. Twenty fucking four. His stomach churned with a mixture of rage and nausea.

Aegon stood beside him, arms crossed, watching his nephew with an unreadable expression. "Told you it was worse than you thought," he muttered.

Jace ignored him. His thumb hesitated over the first file before finally tapping it open. His jaw clenched so hard it hurt as the screen lit up with the sight of you.

You were lying on a bed, your eyes half-lidded, body limp. Your voice—soft, broken—murmured something he couldn’t make out, but the desperation in your tone was unmistakable. Jace's entire body locked up as he saw the way those bastards touched you, the way you flinched, how your fingers weakly gripped the sheets.

"Turn it off," Aemond’s voice was sharp. He had just returned from the bastard’s apartment, his coat slightly damp from the night air. "Jace, don’t watch that."*

But Jace couldn’t stop. His hands were shaking as he scrolled to another video, then another. Each one worse than the last. Aegon exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. "This is beyond fucked up."

Jace finally snapped. "You think I don’t know that?!" he roared, hurling the phone against the wall. The screen shattered upon impact, but the damage had already been done. The images were seared into his mind.

He turned back to the bodies on the floor—lifeless now, blood pooling beneath them. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

"Did you erase everything?" he demanded, his voice hoarse.

Aemond nodded. "Their devices are wiped. The cloud backups? Gone." He paused before adding, "But that won’t erase it from her mind."*

Jace let out a slow, shuddering breath. He knew that. No matter how many files he destroyed, how many people he killed, it wouldn’t take away what they had done to you. The nightmares, the fear—it would all still be there.

"She’s waiting for you," Aemond said quietly. "Don’t make her go through this alone."

Jace didn’t need to be told twice. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out, his mind set on one thing—getting back to you.

Jace exhaled sharply, trying to steady his trembling hands as he looked at his mother. The blood on his knuckles had already begun to dry, staining his skin in deep crimson. His heart was still pounding, his body still buzzing with the remnants of rage.

Rhaenyra’s gaze was unreadable, flickering between the blood on his hands and the haunted look in his eyes. "You should clean up first," she said softly, though there was a firmness in her tone. "She’s asleep now. She doesn’t need to see you like this."

Jace clenched his jaw, glancing toward the staircase. He wanted to go to you—needed to—but he knew his mother was right. You’d already been through so much, and the last thing he wanted was to wake you up in the middle of the night covered in blood.

"Did she wake up at all?" he asked, his voice rough from exhaustion.

Rhaenyra shook her head. "No. But she was restless."*

Jace cursed under his breath. Of course you were. Even in your sleep, you couldn’t escape what had been done to you. His mother sighed and stepped forward, gently placing a hand on his arm. "Jace…" she hesitated before continuing, "Is it over?"

Jace let out a slow breath, his eyes dark. "Yes." He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The bodies were still lying in a bloodstained warehouse, their screams still echoing in his head. But it was done. They would never hurt you again.

Rhaenyra studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Go clean yourself up. I’ll stay here until you’re done."*

Jace nodded, dragging himself upstairs. He peeled off his bloodstained clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the scalding water burn away the evidence of the night. But no matter how much he scrubbed, he couldn’t get rid of the weight in his chest.

Once he was done, he threw on a clean shirt and sweatpants before quietly making his way to the bedroom.

You were curled up under the blankets, your face peaceful in sleep, but he could still see the faint traces of dried tears on your cheeks. His chest ached. He gently sat on the edge of the bed, watching you for a moment before hesitantly brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

You stirred at the touch, blinking up at him sleepily. "Jace…?"

"It’s okay," he whispered. "Go back to sleep. I’m here."*

Without thinking, you reached for him, your fingers curling around his wrist. "Stay?"

Jace swallowed hard, nodding as he slid under the blankets beside you. You immediately curled into his warmth, your head resting against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he pressed a soft kiss to your hair. "I’m not going anywhere."*

And for the first time that night, he finally let himself breathe.

Jace stared at the ceiling, his body tense, his mind refusing to rest. Sleep was impossible—not after what he had seen.

Those videos.

Each frame was burned into his memory, each desperate cry of yours clawing at his sanity. He had thought he knew rage before, thought he had reached the peak of his fury when he had put bullets in those bastards' skulls. But this—this was something else. A different kind of anger. One that seeped into his bones, poisoning him from the inside out.

His fingers curled into fists, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The only thing grounding him was the feeling of you in his arms.

You stirred, shifting slightly in your sleep. A soft whimper left your lips before you curled deeper into his embrace, your hand tightening around the fabric of his shirt. Jace inhaled sharply, his anger momentarily replaced by something far more fragile.

His grip on you instinctively tightened, his hand moving up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes. "I got you," he murmured, barely above a whisper. "No one's ever touching you again."*

You let out a quiet sigh, your body relaxing under his touch. Jace’s throat tightened. He wished he could take all your pain away, wished he could erase the memories from your mind the way he had erased those men from existence. But it wasn’t that simple.

You had been strong for so long. Too long. And now, it was his turn to be strong for you.

His gaze flickered to the faint traces of tears on your cheeks, barely visible under the moonlight. A bitter taste filled his mouth. He had been too late. He should have been there. Should have stopped it before it ever happened.

Guilt gnawed at him, but then you moved again, pressing your face against his chest, a small sound escaping you. It was barely a whisper, but he heard it.

"Jace…"

His breath hitched. "I’m here."

He thought you had fallen back asleep, but then you spoke again, your voice hoarse. "Do you think… I’ll ever be normal again?"

Jace's heart twisted painfully. He shifted, propping himself up slightly so he could look down at you. "Hey, look at me."*

You hesitated before lifting your gaze to meet his. There was so much pain there, so much uncertainty. "You are not broken," he said firmly. "They don’t get to take that from you. They don’t get to decide who you are."

Your lip trembled. "Then why do I feel like they did?"

Jace clenched his jaw. He hated this. Hated that you were questioning your worth because of what they had done.

"Because they tried to break you," he admitted. "But they didn’t. You’re still here. You’re still you. And you’re stronger than you think."*

You let out a shaky breath, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, hesitantly, you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "Thank you," you whispered. "For everything."*

Jace exhaled slowly, squeezing your hand. "I’ll always be here. Always."

And this time, he meant it more than anything else in his life.

Jace felt his heart drop as your quiet confession filled the room.

"I tried so many times…" Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. "I wanted it to stop. I thought… maybe if I disappeared, they would finally stop. But every time I tried, it only got worse. Like they knew. Like they enjoyed seeing me suffer."

Jace’s grip on you tightened. His throat burned with the effort of holding back the rage that surged inside him like a wildfire. He wanted to scream, to break something, to go back and kill those bastards again just for the way they had made you feel.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he did the only thing he could—he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "You don’t ever say that again," he whispered harshly against your hair. "Don’t you dare think that way. They don’t get to win. They don’t get to take you away."

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping onto his shirt like a lifeline. "But they already did, Jace. They took everything."

Jace closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to steady himself. "Not everything. They didn’t take you from me."

You let out a shaky breath, but you didn’t argue. Instead, you just pressed closer, like you were trying to absorb some of his strength.

Jace hesitated. He wanted to tell you the truth—that there were more videos. That what he had seen, what Aegon and Aemond had seen, was so much worse than what you knew. That even now, when they had sucssed on tracking down every last copy, ensuring that none of it would ever see the light of day.

But he couldn’t.

He knew you. He knew that if you found out, it would break you. And after everything you had been through, after everything you had barely survived, he would not let that happen.

So he swallowed the truth and whispered instead, "You’re safe now. No one is ever touching you again. I swear it."*

"But what if—"

"No ‘what ifs’." Jace pulled back just enough to cup your face, forcing you to look at him. "I won’t let anything happen to you. I don’t care what I have to do, who I have to go through. You’re mine to protect now."

You searched his eyes for a long moment before something in you seemed to crack. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you broke down completely, your body shaking as sobs tore through you.

Jace didn’t say anything. He just held you. He let you cry, let you release all the pain you had been forced to carry alone for so long. And as he did, he silently vowed— Whatever it took, whatever price he had to pay—he would make sure you never suffered again.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @callsignwidow @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @ashblooddragons

[annoyinglilbro]

allow me to cook little bc ive been thinking thoughts since your last obsessed little brother post and im in the mood to put them down for you

big brother finds himself a new person to date - bc of course he does, its not clicked for him yet that hes meant to be with his little brother, in spite of how hard his poor little brother is trying - and little brother thinks, well, this should be easy, right? got rid of the last one with a fool proof plan; should be the easiest thing to make him drop this one too, to recycle his methods; and when big brother brings him along on a date hes too excited about getting rid of another one to even scowl at the way they hold hands, or snap when big brothers new s/o asks if he wants their prize tickets, they can never decide on what they want

the plan is of course flawless; wait for them outside the bathroom, hiss every mean accusation about them not being good enough for big brother he can think of, grab them by the pockets of their dress to pull them into a mean kiss-

except this one doesnt slap him. doesnt fight his grip or pull away. they press into the kiss, push their tongue into his mouth, grip his face in their hands when he tries to recoil and murmurs against his lips

'what, you dont like the taste of your big brother? come on, sweetheart, let me feed it to you again. poor neglected thing; i know what you really want, and its not to waste time bitching at me. be a good boy and i might let you have it'

the kisses are confusing but they wont let him pull away, grip too firm on his cheeks, swallowing his whimpers as he tries to protest about his first proper kiss being stolen, about how he was saving it for his brother, not them- only the whining changes because its good, and his pushing hands become desperate, slipping tentatively under skirt hems until their approving little hums have little brother shaking at the wordless praise-

and they finally break it, and use their thumb to wipe the sticky traces of gloss from little brothers lips, though theres nothing to be done about the swelling

'im going to reapply. and youre going to be a good boy, and keep this as our little secret, because if you do, ill help you get your big brother to look at you the way he looks at me. but little brothers who misbehave get nothing; so wash your face, sweetheart, and ill see you outside with your brother in a minute, and well get you that prize youre so desperate for, hm?'

little brother needs... a minute, to recover from whatever the fuck just happened. all he really knows is they promised hed get what he wants; and a lost first kiss doesnt seem so bad if hell have his brother in the end

after all; its not like theyre going to want more from him, is it?

(1/?)

-☆

(1/?) HELLO OMG?? START A SERIES IM

HOLY FUCK THIS WAS SO GOOD PLEASE

THIS IS HOW YOU HANDLE POSSESSIVE AND CLINGY AND JEALOUS LITTLE BROTHRRS HHHHHHH

Fuckin aye this is so good I’m entranced I’m obsessed I’m needing MORE 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

If you wanna fuck my big brother this is how you gotta handle me tbh >.>

[dev1lsadvocate]

Alright, so… uh… this is a little embarrassing to say, especially since it should be obvious (and it’s literally in my rules), but here we go…

I AM NOT THE CHARACTERS I WRITE.

Behind the devil bitch and the gauchy old druid is a person, who is neither. A human. With a life. Just like you.

I’m open about the interactions I write on all my blogs and will consider any ideas you throw my way, as long as they respect my boundaries. Whether you want our characters to throw hands, dive into hurt/comfort, go full-on unhinged toxic yuri, from dark themes to fluffy ship them — LET'S FUCKING GO.

BUT PLEASE KNOW THE DIFFERENCE.

If you can’t separate my characters from me, or if you struggle to distinguish fantasy from reality, please take a break, touch some grass, seek professional help, and do not interact with me. I will not tolerate bullying or harassment toward me or my RP partners, especially over unmet IC expectations. At the end of the day, we’re just a bunch of adults playing digital Barbie dolls with our fictional faves. If this impacts you that deeply, again, I strongly suggest stepping back and seeking help.

Another thing that’s clearly stated in my rules, but apparently needs repeating: DO NOT PESTER ME FOR REPLIES. This includes peer pressure, passive-aggressive nudging, repeated “playful” public poking, vague-posting, and monitoring my replies to others. I don’t write in a set order. I try to prioritize my exclusives and mains, but even they understand that my muse decides when and where it strikes. I’m lucky to have amazing writing partners who respect that — please do the same.

I’ll be doing a deep clean on all my blogs — my anons will be turned off, I'll block anyone who makes me feel even slightly uncomfortable, and a block-evade will only lead to another block.

[abyss-strikas]

ahem, you should do raino or tiger head canons, can’t get over my faves👨🏽

You're definitely right, I should! I will say, when I was writing these headcanons, I kind of went a bit overboard so I'm doing five headcanons for Twisting Tiger and Riano. I did also add a couple of headcanons at the end that includes my fan team, the Silver Lions FC, since it did come to mind when writing these out. I'll put those under a Read More though, just so this doesn't get as long as it is now. @h3art-v1n

Twisting Tiger

The grandmother that he mentions in Rookie Season is not his biological grandmother. I’m still a believer of him, Inyo and Miko growing up in an orphanage together, as shown in the comics, and I headcanon that he did eventually get adopted, but by an older woman who he considers his grandmother. She’s a fitness trainer, hence the abs thing

His favorite colour is green, associating it with nature and growth. He had to learn a lot after being adopted by his grandmother, and he was drawn to the color green because of the bandana she would always wear. She made him his own bandana before he left Japan to join Supa Strikas, and he keeps it in his closet for safe keeping.

Tiger has a sweet tooth. Aside from chocolate croissants being one of his favorites to eat, he also likes strawberry shortcake, mochi, strawberry and cherry dangos, and daifuku.

Tiger has always wanted to try and foster cats or dogs, but never really had a chance to because of his job. He was encouraged by his teammates to go for it, and he ended up fostering a nine-year old cat he named Yuki. Tiger was drawn to her because of how she was surrendered to the shelter, but no one wanted to take her in. Just like how it was for Tiger until he was adopted at the age of sixteen by his grandmother. So, he hopes he can give Yuki a better life than being in the shelter, just like what happened to him.

Tiger is the king of dance, at least on his dance pads. You might see him in the mall arcade playing the those kinds of games, with kids playing alongside him. He holds the record on almost all the songs on at least two dance machines.

Riano

The man is very humble, to the point that he’s got no secrets to hide. If he’s got secrets, they’re pretty tame and only the kind that would make him look “lame” to a majority of his fans. Like, his love for a children’s book series he grew up with, which is still going on to this day. A lot of fans like seeing him as the really cool, hot, and very charming football player he is, but there are times when he would like to nerd out about some of his interests.

Whenever Barka and Supa Strikas meet up, Riano and El Matador are always chatting away in Spanish, whether it be about some random topic or gossip within the Super League. Riano would never spread a rumor about someone, and usually scolds those who do, especially if said rumors are aimed to hurt the person they are targeting. He only participates in the gossip to see what’s going on with his fellow League players.

He used to dye his hair different colours when he was a teen, but settled on the purple when he first joined Barka. He had meant to remove it, but it became a part of his image when he played beautifully in his first few games, he decided to keep the streaks.

Riano keeps in touch with his family, and they’re a very large family. He always gets them gifts from the places he and his team go to, plays with his little cousins, nieces and nephews, and always engages in conversation with the parents, aunts, uncles, and his grandparents. However, when everything gets too much, he just heads to his older sister’s place, which is pretty much away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and crashes there for a night or two. She doesn’t mind, as she is an introvert compared to Riano, but appreciates it that her brother does come to visit from time to time.

Every two weeks, Riano treats his team to a Sunday brunch at a restaurant that he usually frequents, and the owner knows him very well. They get a discount on the bill if they win two games before the brunch, a small deal Riano made with the owner after the owner joked that his team couldn’t win back to back games during a drought they had. So far, the owner hasn’t gone back on the deal and has even made small compromises when they’ve won one game but lost the second one.

Bonus headcanons – Silver Lions FC Edition

 It may come as a surprise, but Riano did doubt the Silver Lions when the club rejoined the Super League. For Riano, his doubt stemmed from how everyone was hyping up the team, despite the fact that most of the players on the team never had any football experience, except the returning veterans. He thought they would treat the game like a joke and not take it seriously, but then he saw how they played their second game against them with precision and how they were able to adapt to their different move sets.

He also had doubts about the team for how they would respond in interviews, seeing their answers as maybe too much for the fans. But he was shocked to learn that a majority of the Super League fans actually liked the brutal honesty that came from the Silver Lions; a breath of fresh air is what many fans had said about them.

Riano would later apologize to both Oliver and Trent on how he first viewed them and their team, and they apologized in return for rushing to assume that Riano was like the other players they’ve met. Always judging them while hiding it under his charming looks and personality. Seeing as all three captains all had the same idea of what they thought the other team was like, Riano invited them and their team for brunch, to show no hard feelings between each team. In return, the Silver Lions invited Barka to the restaurant/pub they go to celebrate special events, including brunch.

From time to time, Riano will spend time with the captains, but he also has formed a friendship with their reserve defender, Flint Martinez, and his boyfriend who is one of the main defenders, Hale Pagaduan. Riano took interest in Flint after watching him perform with his underground band, and found that he and Hale could relate to each other about having big families and having such high expectations put on them by their families. When the three are together, they're usually seen running in the park with some other Barka FC players and talking about anything that has been happening in the world or within the Super League.

Twisting Tiger wasn't sure if he would even get along with any of the Silver Lions players, but suddenly found himself being followed by one of the smaller players of the team, Mica Bailey. He's one of the main strikers of the team and is cousins to Sean Bailey, one of the main midfielders of the team. Tiger is unsure why Mica has taken a liking to him, but he is able to have Sean interpret whatever Mica wants to tell him, as Mica is mute and communicates in both ASL and BSL.

Oddly enough, Tiger has a rivalry with both Bailey cousins but in different ways. With Mica, he sometimes has a hard time getting the ball to one of his strikers, as the Silver Lions player is quick to intercept and take it back up the field towards the Supa Strikas' goal. With Sean, anytime that Tiger does his Twisting Tornado, Sean is able to take the ball away from Tiger and initiate his own move his team have dubbed as The Irish Storm. The move consists of Sean running around the Supa Strikas midfielders in an infinity loop, moving so fast that it's hard to keep track of him. But the reason he does this is to allow one of the Silver Lions players to blend in while he runs, and take advantage of when Sean passes the ball to them. While he is not always successful in taking the ball from Tiger, he usually marks him when they're on the field.

Despite this, Tiger finds he enjoys the company of the Bailey cousins a lot, especially with watching Sean getting angry about something, and Mica signing things to get his cousin even more angry. Tiger has been teaching himself how to sign ASL to better communicate with Mica, and has been able to find a common ground between him and Sean in the form of model cars. Sean used to be a race car driver, but left the sport to focus on being a mechanic for his own workshop, collecting the little model cars when he can.

Tiger has also found some common ground with the main goalie of the Silver Lions, Fritz Germane, with the two of them being orphans when they were both younger, but having found a family later on. He sometimes goes to the much older goalie to hear how he was adopted and what his life was like with them.

[wintywriter]

Well, I need to add that the showrunners, trying to make the greens look incompetent about their dragons, did show!Rhaenyra a great disservice.

Lemme explain to u. On the one hand, we have the book!universe where:

- Aegon shared an absolutely unique bond with Sunfire which wasn’t a hatchling (!);

- Helaena’s biggest joy was to ride Dreamfire - one of the oldest and largest dragons (Dreamfire literally went insane after Helaena's death);

- Vhagar and Aemond are a pretty badass duo (Vhagar even roars immediately when Aemond loses his fucking eye after…an hour? less?);

- apart from that, Daeron’s Tessaryon also wasn’t a hatchling! He claimed the Blue Queen at a very young age (he was near 6 y.o. if I’m not mistaken), even before he was sent to Oldtown (I mean it’s hard to find a dragon in Oldtown lol).

Basically, all of them were Rhaenyra’s enemies. All of them were competent riders. All of them were the threats. Period.

Rhaenyra needed other dragons because… Her dragons, except Caraxes, weren’t experienced as well as their riders. Rhaenyra didn’t ride her own dragon for a long time (also she suffered because of her terrible miscarriage and probably depression); Meleys, as far as we know, wasn’t in a battle too. Vermax and Moondancer were just sweet summer babies. Finally, after Luke’s and Rhaenys’s deaths her allies had no choice but to try to find other solutions. Jace did that. Addam got Seasmoke (but also, u know, Joffrey wasn’t names as an Corlys’s heir; a suspicious thing in a long-term perspective taking into account how much Addam and Alyn differed from Jace and Joff); Nettles got Sheepstealler but she was never connected much to anyone else but Daemon (a suspicious thing to Mysaria and Rhaenyra, to be honest); Hugh and Ulf, who weren’t the good guys from the very beginning, got Vermithor and Silverwing (again, a suspicious thing). Rhaenyra basically couldn’t trust all of them. At the same time, she couldn’t help but desperately need them. That was one of the reasons where and why her paranoia started increasing, in my opinion.

Anyway. On the other hand, let’s come back to the show. Aegon has no clue about his own dragon and rides him into the battle being drunk; Helaena doesn’t ride her dragon at all (why did she claim Dreamfire at all I mean?); Aemond can’t control Vhagar normally; Daeron has his first ride on Tessaryon during (!) the dance.

At the same time Rhaenyra rides Syrax perfectly even after a horrific miscarriage (she also jumps, runs, flies for ten fucking days without any support, food and water, without being tired or trapped and so on but who cares); Daemon canonically shares a pretty strong bond with Caraxes and that’s ok; Meleys and Rhaenys are experienced in the battle (when? why? how? we could only speculate about Tryarchy) but does absolutely dump decisions during her battle against Aemond (and a bit Aegon lol). Also Moondancer and Vermax have a pretty decent size… However, Rhaenyra by herself decides to get the dragon seeds. Ok, I got you. Rhaenys is dead and Daemon is… Well, he is flirting with Alys. Ok. Maybe you should talk to him immediately…? Like… Well. Ok. Sorry. Coming back to the topic, Addam claims Seasmoke and wants to serve Rhaenyra; Hugh looks like not a bad guy and Ulf is just a common man and not a bad one too. Everyone is loyal to her. No one has extra motives (especially Mysaria).

How could the showrunners make her to FAIL all of that against… Daeron with a pony-dragon and a desperate Aemond 😀 this is absolutely amusing and has no sense. Obviously, also taking into account all the other changes which were done in her favour. I mean it’s not even stupid. It’s ridiculous.

I never read the books, I just know some vague info about it and mostly just watched the show.

Sometimes I wonder how in the seven kingdoms did Rhaenyra manage to do so bad in the war and why did she even bother with the dragon seeds. Like- yeah sure at the end she won cuz it's her children and then descendants on the Iron Throne, but also- how was it such a disastrous conflict?

Team Green has 4 dragons: Tessarion and Sunfyre (relatively young and small dragons), Vaghar which fair enough is a giant battle hardened dragon (but also old and slow) and Dreamfyre who doesn't even ever fight. So technically they only have 3 fighting dragons.

Team black has: Arrax, Moondancer and Vermax, small but still it's 3 dragons that cannot be that younger than Tessarion. I am not counting Joffrey's dragon cuz it's too small so not apt to fight. They also have Syrax, spoiled but still a decently big dragon I would guess probably around or a bit smaller than Sunfyre. And they have both Meleys and Caraxes, both battle hardened very big dragons with experienced riders despite not being as big as Vaghar. That's a total of 6 dragons against 3 of the greens. When Seasmoke, another battle hardened dragon joined their team, what was even the point of looking for other Dragon Seeds?

The greens had only Tessarion and Vaghar while the Blacks still had Vermax, Moondancer, Caraxes, Syrax and Seasmoke.

Taking in other dragon Seeds is such a risky move as their loyalty cannot be assured. I am also not counting Sheepstealer cuz they couldn't have known Rhena would claim it. But like- how can you loose with these odds? I know Rhaenyra didn't want more of his loved ones to die but girl, is literally war, you already have the advantage and you think the best idea is to grab a bunch of random bastards and give them giant dragons and just "hope they stay loyal to you cuz you were oh so nice to them"?

I love that Rhaenyra lost, even though she initially had an absolute advantage - more dragons, more allies. Here we can again speculate about what kind of queen she would be if she couldn't even win the war being in a much better position than her opponent. She lost her allies and dragons because of her stupid and short-sighted decisions, and eventually Aegon (who was literally disabled at the time) defeated her and fed her to Sunfyre. Poetic, if you ask me.

[sphnyspinspin]

Yo, late night thoughts about my TFBBB AU where in my sideplot I have mecha—mecha furry yuri, let’s goooooo…