#MAN. horse staring out at the ocean

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

ALSO. HEYHEYHEY. probably u will have to wait until after i finish 39 to answer this but holy shit dude. how does this translate to new haven wards??? i KNOW youve thought about it man. oh my fucking god. what r we doing to wibby. wraith. <- i really like this for him btw. haven't they been through enough!!!!!! also is this related 2 the second trigger situation it HAS to be right??

OKAY!!!!! HI !!!! HERE IT IS MY THOUGHTS ON WIBBY SECOND TRIGGER !!!!!!!!

when i say thoughts i mean this is less going to be an essay like my other nhw posts and more just. me throwing spaghetti at the wall and then turning to you like :D!!!!!! WHAT DO YOU THINK etc etc. i havent rlly thought about this like... plot wise??? or tried to make it make sense yet. so dont be disappointed when this is sort of short in comparison

anyway. for the LONGEST time i thought we were going to make the "absorbing kemuri's soul" thing his trigger event so that he could have the smoke powers, but.... honestly in comparison to everything else that moment was not NEARLY traumatizing enough

the reason i like this specific event as his second trigger is like. its SO fucking similar to his first. in his first trigger event, he fell off the cliff. he was still alive at the bottom, but unable to move or speak or call for help. he was stuck there for [x amount of time] but never actually triggered until someone found him and took him back. in this.... he literally gets torn in fucking half. but hes still alive. he can feel it, he knows whats happening, its the most terrifying and painful and miserable thing hes ever been through. again, he cant move. he cant talk. he cant call for help. the others dont even realize hes still alive at first, so he can hear them screaming. he still doesnt trigger until.. dakota. dakota, who can Feel it. dakota, who rushes into the danger zone as soon as he's able to and knows hes alive and desperately tries to push him back together, the whole time crying about "its gonna be okay, we'll fix it, you're gonna be okay" and just. desperately trying to do anything. THATS when he triggers.

the thing is thoughhhh. i dont think the second trigger is what actually heals him. i think he triggers and every single one of the capes in that clearing goes down for the vision, INCLUDING muse. wraith is one of the first ones to come back to consciousness but. hes still fucking torn in half! he can feel this horrible new power but he cant do anything about it because hes still got his guts all over the forest floor! uhhhh for the way he gets healed theres maybe a couple options,,, either trickster also gets the vision and thinks its hilarious that he caused a trigger event and has muse stitch wibby up himself or likee... he has to stay like that until they beat trickster and get ashe back and then they have to keep ashe in his breaker state until he fixes william. or theres some sort of.. before they beat trickster or whatever they force him to control muse into fixing him. IDK. something along those lines.

AS FOR HIS POWERS...... IDK. i dont know what they would be. i want them to be sort of like. functionally similar to the smoke powers i guess???? but maybe not explicitly the same. i still want him to be able to give xavier and david fucking awful horrible nightmare visions. i think that would probably fall under either master or shaker category????? IDK help me out with this one. also like u said before we're gonna have to fuck with the timeline and have at least the belltech part of greyscale happen after the muse final battle. which. ohhh my god i have a lot of feelings about that for the freedom city wards especially. oaugh.

I THINK THATS IT FOR NOW... IDK GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS I KNOW EVERYTHING IS SO FRESH IN UR MIND BUT IF U HAVE ANY IDEAS I WOULD LOOOOOVE TO HEAR THEM

[phoenix-flamed]

Life update: I'm still alive, just vibing still. I'll be back around soon!

[quartarcade]

realizing that Rio really doesn't know or have any friends around her age group, especially since she wholeheartedly believes there isn't anyone who could relate to or connect with her, so she doesn't bother trying and just tries to hang out with the adults instead.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

honestly like. the more i take it apart and examine it, while going into it entirely is going to be A Post or Three of Its Own and will probably get its own thread: i think one of the reasons nine in canon upsets me so much is that i genuinely related to the version of him that made sense to me, when i tried to apply some continuity to his character from before his imprisonment vs after. he's actually the muse i wrote for the most prose for in this fandom, even more than five--which is saying something!--and he came to me pretty easily.

[longpost and Decidedly Harsh toward canon's depiction of him, but less ARGFMSKDKDKFK HATE than usual so much as 'man the awful way these people handled him was a waste.' believe it or not i'm actually pretty attached to him, but as the secret Better Version that lives in my head lmao]

the arc of his character could have been such a good one about how men and boys and the people around them are harmed by toxic masculinity, and examining the ways in which that's held up by other cis men, every other configuration of gender and AGAB, and both. he came through loud and clear to me as an example of a poorly socialized, abused, isolated homeschooler with very little life experience, who is throwing bits and pieces at the wall that he's cobbled together from the outside without understanding the experiences behind that kind of thing, to see what sticks. all this while having suppressed and sublimated his emotions so much that he doesn't actually recognize what he's feeling, and goes 'well, i guess this trauma reaction to killing people means i like killing people. let's go then!'

like... in canon, you can kind of see how the seeds of his trauma, and baseline personality, from before his capture might have gone septic in the process the way it does in canon. if he was already the kind of person who would spit that result out on the other side. the writers used his Acute Trauma as an excuse to go 'anyway his cêpan was a sexist dickhead under the guise of ~respecting women,~ and he got captured by pursuing a normal teenage crush and blames himself for it, and then he went through solitary for a year. so now he's a gleeful sexual predator who harasses john and thinks women are meat!'

and this becomes even more glaringly obvious when you set it next to how the aftereffects of his trauma are (not) depicted. this kid spent a year in solitary confinement--broken up by the intermission of mercy-killing his adopted dad after watching his torture--while not being fed enough and hurting himself on the forcefield on the regular. he's not going to immediately come out of that Ripped and an Incredible Polished Fighter; he's not going to come out of that a ~charming edgy debonair lovable asshole.~ this kid knows what the fuckin hat man looks like, dude. that's shit you come out of an emotional, physical, and psychological wreck, and not in a 'haha look how rude and boundary-pushing and violent and sleazy i am uwu' way.

he is barely going to be able to walk out of there on his own two feet. he is going to be hallucinating and not remember how to tell faces apart. he is going to freak out at anything like an enclosed space. he is going to be food-insecure. he is going to be constantly finding ways to self-harm when he feels at all out of control, and once again not in a 'haha i'm so quirky and edgy' way. he is going to have obsessive rituals and get stuck on repetitive thought patterns because you run out of shit to think about after a year with nothing to do but pushups, even before you add in the shiny new PTSD events to obsess over. which tend to take up all of your brain space even when you aren't isolated with them for long periods. he is going to be doing weird fucking shit after he gets out, bizarre and frightening shit that's not just 'being violent and a dick,' and other people will probably notice.

and all of this is before you factor in his backstory! (which, by the way, is not conducive to him coming out of his imprisonment an Unstoppable Highly Trained Killing Machine. he was taught how to actually fight opponents for Three Whole Ass Weeks before he got captured, and none of that was training against human-shaped opponents. i don't care how many pushups he does over how long, he still has had zero practice fighting Other People and that's immediately going to fuck him over in a fight. it's one thing to have him be dangerous because he makes up for lack of skill with being completely fucking berserk with zero regard for his own safety or anyone else's, but he's not going to be an unstoppable whirlwind of death. and you're not going to build muscle while you're being starved.)

and like. i could go on for a long time about how they fucked up his character to the point where seeing him onscreen anywhere outside his novella makes me instantly want to flip a table. but i think so much of what it comes down to--and i don't say this casually, i mean after laying out and examining all his scenes in the first series--is that he doesn't actually have an arc. he doesn't grow. the entire point of his character's existence is to be an awful person and never be held accountable, self-examine, or allowed to face any kind of real consequences for it.

it's genuinely fascinating to examine all the different methods they use to do this (which is for a whole post of its own), but he's not an exploration of culpability or responsibility--for past, current, and future actions--the way five's arc is. he's just a parade of all the abuse tactics and rhetoric the authors could think of, both direct and via enablement by people around him, to pour into one guy. nine is literally The Missing Stair: The Character.

contrast this with five getting nailed to the fuckin wall for things that are often, arguably, much less horrific or unhinged than what nine does. he's treated like a ~broken, irreparably insane monster~ by characters and narrative both. he's punished brutally and endlessly over and over and over and over no matter how much he tries to grow, or make amends, or even lay down and take everything that might be done to him as punishment because he Deserves It for, [checks notes] repeatedly having been groomed and manipulated for years. If You Can't Tell I am a Little Bitter

and it's not just other characters who suffer for it. the creators are SO invested in nine never being accountable, by himself or anyone else, that he is PUNISHED FOR IT when he makes even the slightest effort to unpack. when he has a moment of vulnerability during a breakdown over fucking up, he is restrained in exactly the same way as when he had to watch eight die. this so that he can have his self-blame literally beaten out of him to make him 'stop moping.' the writers don't care about his trauma, or being compassionate or fair in their portrayal of it, or letting him heal. the only thing they care about here is getting to write a Missing Stair as a good thing, and trying to get you, the reader, in on it by forcing you to like him.

anyway just. man. they did nine so fuckin dirty and their version of him brings down every other narrative around it. i know i rant about nine a lot but justice for my boy

[inhumanfuckingdogman]

Being a romangirl is literally hell rn like remember that really long lingering shot of his nazi watch last episode. I do.

[jorvikzelda]

Having. the most sickening realisations ever about myself tonight actually. throwing myself into the ocean etc

[secondsonaym]

ngl something i've been lowkey worried about with this whole thing is when it comes to the Horrors the young bishops are gonna face and shift them into how they are presently

gonna try my best not to get too needlessly intense, but at the same time, as somebody who has gone through abuse, i think it's important not to gloss over details like this, especially since that's kind of the focus of this segment

i also just think with the way i tackle media, actually cracking open the bones of the story given in the game, it's gonna get uncomfortable and a bit darker since this is how i like to deal with topics in the media i make stuff for

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

I’ve been doing some perspective-shifting lately, particularly when it comes to what is painfully obviously neurodivergent traits that heavily affect my ability to navigate the world.

When I was a teenager and I suspected ADHD being the root cause of the issue, I was forcefully redirected to focusing on my anxiety/depression because “You’re doing fine in school, you don’t need added support” and “Depression/anxiety is what causing your issues not ADHD” even though it’s been proven that untreated ADHD has a high chance of causing anxiety/depression.

Lately, though, I’ve been rethinking it all--like a lot of my anxiety/depression does come from neurodivergence reasons. 

Like, I crave predictability, I am resistant to change. I like being able to plan ahead and be aware of expectations for events ahead of time. New environments are intimidating even if I’ve been in similar situations before. I struggle reading people’s facial expressions and tone if they’re not very outwardly emotive. Loud noises and bright flashy lights are overstimulation hell that drives my anxiety up the wall.

 I need clear instructions--I will ask even the most “obvious” clarifying questions to ensure I understand what is asked of me. Sometimes, it takes me a moment to process what is being asked of me--firstly, because I may not fully heard it. Secondly, because I need time to think how to respond. Apparently this “lapse” in answering is longer than what is normal.

I have been told before that I can come off as “abrupt” and “aggressive” in moments that I wasn’t aware my actions were being interpreted that way. 

Speaking is a source of frustration due to a struggle in being able to fully articulate thoughts and feelings. I have to concentrate in order to control my volume when speaking. Sometimes it feels as though I have to be conscious thought into my facial expressions. 

I need to stay simulated in some form or fashion because otherwise I’ll get depressed without something occupying my mind. Due to RSD and Emotion Dysregulation, it can be hard for myself to not have “over-reactions” to what some may perceive as a “minor offense.” I am highly sensitive to other people’s emotions--to the point that their emotions are my emotions. I have had to physically retreat if the emotions are too much to handle.

Listing these traits out (and this is not all of them mind you), it’s pretty damning. It’s a light bulb moment of “Oh, that’s how that potentially affects my anxiety/depression and I’m not the only one who experiences these issues” but it’s also hard if you have lived your life thinking you’re undeserving to have a definitive label due to not “struggling” enough to deserve it. 

[bumblesimagines]

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 13

Request: Yes or No

Summary: With war comes the death of innocents, and Luke was merely the first of many. Upon learning of Prince Jaehaerys demise, (Y/N) and Rhaenyra are forced to confront the man behind it.

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, spoilers for S2, mentions of the death of Jaehaerys,

Had to deal with a hurricane, power outages, the ongoing process of moving, no wifi, and a sore knee before I could finish this part😭 the universe really said hold your horses but you know what? i thank it for making me wait cause i just got the book from libby this morning

~~~

The waves crashed against the rocky cliffs, droplets of salty water rising and falling with each continuous crash that filled the air with the comforting smell of the ocean. He listened to it, the heartbeat of the ocean, and felt his beat along with the rhythm as he swirled his ring around his finger. His thoughts refused to stop, refused to ease into something comprehensible. The Realm had been at peace for many decades under the rule of the Old King and King Viserys, flourishing and blissful; now like his mind, it was broken. War... such a frightening word. The very thought of it made his insides twist and his throat tighten. 

"My Lord," (Y/N) tore his eyes away from the dark water and pushed himself away from the balcony to face the troubled Ser Erryk. "The Small Council has called an urgent meeting with news from King's Landing." 

A multitude of things raced through his mind as he strode through the halls of the Stone Drum, his unease and confusion heightening when he noticed the grim looks on a few of the lords' faces. Rhaenyra appeared as puzzled as him, her eyes flickering to him questioningly, but she found no answer in his features. She watched him take his seat beside Rhaenys before she turned to Maester Gerardys, giving him a small nod to speak his piece. 

"Tragic news from King's Landing, Your Grace, My Lord," Maester Gerardys began shakily, his lips forming a grim line. "There was a funeral procession this morrow for the son of Aegon and Helaena Targaryen who was slain in the middle of the night. It is yet unclear how the Keep itself was breached. The boy's head was severed from his body. Thousands witnessed the procession."

(Y/N) felt the world still for a moment. The crashing of the waves ceased and the crackling of the fire grew muffled as the information settled into his bones. He inhaled deeply through his nose and held it, his eyes bouncing around the designs carved into the table. Helaena... sweet little Helaena, the very definition of innocence and curiosity. He bit his inner cheek when Alicent slipped into his mind and a dull ache in his stomach awakened. 

Rhaenyra stared forward, completely aghast by the revelation, by the underlying tone and unspoken words reinforced by the suspicion and accusatory glances around the table. "And.. they are accusing me of having a hand in this?"

Maester Gerardys's brows pulled into a sympathetic furrow. "It appears so." He confirmed softly, and (Y/N) resisted the urge to slump back into his seat, his mind still working on who would even think of bringing such harm to gentle Helaena, much less to a boy as young as her son. "There have been messages sent to that effect throughout the Realm."

"We must send our own messages, denying this vile allegation," Rhaenyra ordered swiftly as she stepped out from behind her chair to stand before it, her fingertips pressing into the Painted Table. There was a flicker in her eyes, one filled with worry, likely for the lives of their own young children.

"I will do so at once, but I am not sure they will be received in good faith." 

"And we must double our guard, here and in Driftmark," Rhaenyra added, smoothing out the back of her dress as she lowered herself down into her seat, prompting the rest of the lords to follow suit. She swallowed and lifted her head, sparing her husband a glance before observing her lords. "There will be swift retribution in one form or another-"

"I have seen to it, Your Grace." Lord Celtigar interrupted, drawing (Y/N)'s gaze away from his wife and onto the older man with a stern glare. The older man pointedly avoided looking in his direction as Jace strode into the room and stood at the end of the table, sharing an encouraging glance with Lord Celtigar.

"Let me fly out on Vermax." Jace offered and both of his parents snapped their heads toward him. Lucerys faint laughter echoed in his father's ears, the image of his eyes that so often reminded (Y/N) of Gwayne's flashed in his mind. The shaky breath Rhaenyra released was subtle but he picked it up nonetheless. "Rhaenys is needed in the Gullet and I can watch for moves from King's Landing."

The answer lacked hesitation: "No."

Lord Celtigar inhaled deeply and turned back the Rhaenyra, clearing his throat lightly to garner her attention once more. "It must be said that the damage to our position is immeasurable, at a time when we most need loyalty to our cause." He spoke carefully, clasping his hands behind his back with the accusation in his tone evident. 

"But it is a lie." Rhaenyra scoffed, her eyes wide as she looked amongst her council when none of the lords bothered to raise their disagreement of Lord Celtigar. "Having lost my own son, that I would inflict such a thing on Helaena, of all people. An innocent."

A moment of solemn silence passed over the room and (Y/N) pushed himself back further into his seat with a quiet sigh. His thumb pressed and rubbed against the ring of his index finger, tilting his head to look toward Jace once more only to notice the withering stare Rhaenys sent across the table toward the Targaryen sat opposite of him. He turned to the prince and felt his heart skip a beat at the look in Daemon's eyes. 

Seven fucking Hells.

Ser Alfred cleared his throat next, his eyes lingering on Lord Celtigar before sliding over to Rhaenyra. "The death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon was a shock and an insult. A mother so aggrieved might, naturally, seek relief in retribution-"

"Are you suggesting, Ser Alfred-" Rhaenyra shot up from her seat, the lilac of her eyes bright with offense and voice heavy with anger. "-that my grief drove me to order the decapitation of a child?" 

"I merely thought, perhaps, an action taken in haste-"

"Mind yourself," Rhaenys steely voice cut through the air for once, and the tone of the older princess proved enough to silence the men at the table.

With a quiet scoff and light shake of her head, Rhaenyra sat back down in her seat as (Y/N) rose from his. He met her eyes and she managed a smile, one that he could not return when he flickered his eyes between her and Daemon. Her brows furrowed and she turned to look at her uncle, studying his features until slowly but surely, the horror and realization dawned on her. Her brows softened then and her eyes widened, lips parting with a quiet inhale. 

"Let it be known that Her Grace nor I ordered the sickening murder of a child." (Y/N) began icily, his hands folding before him and vexed stare lingering on Daemon before it moved onto Ser Alfred and then Lord Celtigar. "Helaena is a gentle soul and she has never spoken ill of any of us despite whatever poison she has been fed throughout the years. To imply that Her Grace would purposefully bring harm upon her sister and nephew, that she would stoop as low as Aemond did, is a great offense and insult. It certainly says a lot of the men you are as well, to not only believe such a thing but to regardless defend it. I should not be standing here like a disappointed parent lecturing their children when many of you are men old enough to be my father. We expect better from the men of this council." 

When Rhaenyra rose from her seat once more, her steely gaze still locked on Daemon, the rest of the council did as well. (Y/N) offered her his arm and she took it, a quiet and tired sigh escaping her. "If that is all the news to be discussed this afternoon then this meeting is over. Thank you, Maester Gerardys, for informing us as soon as possible." The lords dipped their heads and bowed in return, waiting for the couple to leave before they returned to their previous tasks. 

Rhaenyra and (Y/N) strolled to their bedchambers, only stopping to have a servant summon Daemon and locate Baela. He arrived moments later, his attention on the floor until he found a seat and slumped down in it as if it were all a mere inconvenience. (Y/N) sighed heavily and placed his arms atop the nearest chair, his teeth grinding slightly as irritation swirled in his stomach like a storm waiting to reach land.

"Tell me it is not true." Rhaenyra stared at her uncle as her calm demeanor chipped away when he simply poured himself a cup of wine and took a sip from it. "Did you truly send assassins to murder children in their beds?"

"I sent the queen's vengeance for her son." He answered quietly, swirling the cup around as if it hadn't just admitted to being partial to the death of a child. (Y/N) rubbed his palm over his face in exasperation as Rhaenyra walked forward toward her uncle with purpose.

"What did you tell this vengeance? What did you say to him, Daemon, that a boy lies dead and I am accused of killing him?" Rhaenyra's hands slammed down against the table, her shoulders heaving and necklace jingling with her movements. (Y/N) studied her but remained silent. He'd be a fool to intervene between two dragons, even more so when they were Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen; perhaps the most stubborn and fiery of the family.

"Mysaria provided me with names and a subterfuge." Daemon started and raised the cup to his lips again, his adams apple bobbing with each swallow and lips growing tainted in a subtle red tint. (Y/N)'s memory flickered back to Ser Erryk and the stowaway, and his eyes fluttered shut. "I was clear in my instructions: Aemond, the brother of Aegon the Usurper. I cannot be responsible for a mista-"

"Cannot be responsible?!" Rhaenyra glowered, the disbelief and annoyance in her tone finally prompting Daemon to meet her eyes. She leaned back, wetting her lips and taking slow steps closer to the man before bracing her hand against the table once more and leaning toward him with barely contained anger. "If Aemond was not to be found, what were your instructions then?"

"They did not concern, in any way, that of a little child."

"You said that it was your aim to spill Hightower blood, and if not Aemond, then anyone would do."

"No."

"You have wounded me!" Rhaenyra exhaled weakly, leaning back with softened, near-watery eyes. "Weakened my claim to the throne, my ability to raise an army, my standing among my own council!"

"I said no." Daemon asserted more quietly, his own eyes softening ever so slightly at the emotion in her eyes before hardening again when she scoffed under her breath and leaned back. Rhaenyra stared at him, her fingers curling into fists before uncurling again, the loose strands of her hair swaying when she shook her head.

"I don't believe you." She told him, stalking away from him with a chest rapidly rising and falling. Rhaenyra's brows moved into a fixed furrow, her lips pulled down into a deep, disappointed frown. She returned to her husband's side, her lips parting to release the quickened breaths and eyes fluttering shut to calm herself. (Y/N)'s hand grazed hers and she took it, rubbing her thumb over his skin as if to soothe herself. 

With an inhale, she looked at Daemon. "And so we come to it, at long last." Her words came out quiet and hurt, the implication blatant enough for Daemon to lean back in his seat with narrowed eyes. "Cannot trust you, Daemon. I've never trusted you, wholly, much though I wished to, willed myself to. But now I have seen that your heart belongs only to you. And when I was a child, I took this as a challenge to prove myself worthy of being your equal. But I am older now. I have challenges enough." The more she spoke, the louder she got, the hold on (Y/N)'s hand growing tighter and tighter until she released him to begin pacing. 

"I have served you faithfully." Daemon managed out through gritted teeth, his fingers drumming along the armrest of his chair. 

"Have you?" Rhaenyra snapped. "Or have you used me as a tool with which to try and grasp at your stolen inheritance?"

Her words seemingly struck a nerve within the older prince; shooting up from his chair and smacking away his cup and pitcher. The items flew across the room, clattering against a candle holder and then onto the floor where wine and wax mixed. Rhaenyra flinched and staggered background, her movements combined with Daemon's outburst instinctively prompting (Y/N) into slotting himself between the two before the ill-tempered prince could reach his wife.

Daemon stopped before him, his nostrils flaring with each deep inhale he took and wild violet eyes piercing right into him. (Y/N)'s heart rammed in his ribcage and every nerve in his body demanded he get away from the prince but he remained rooted in his spot, shoulders squared and ears picking up each ragged breath from his wife behind him. His eyes flickered away when Daemon raised his hand and the prince hesitated, his features contorting as different emotions flickered through his eyes before he reached forward, his calloused hands pressing into (Y/N)'s cheeks and thumbs roughly rubbing over his cheekbones.

"It was I you entrusted with dealing with Vaemond Velaryon; it was I who drank and feasted with you all these years in Dragonstone; it was I who encouraged Rhaenyra time and time again to pursue her desire for you. I am not your enemy." Daemon spoke lowly and his head lifted to address Rhaenyra. "When Ser Erryk brought you the crown, did I not hand it to your husband so that he may place it upon your brow?"

"Yes," Rhaenyra breathed. "But before that, you sought to lead a council of war while I labored in my bedchamber without you once making an attempt to ensure my health and safety. And afterward, when I thought it meet to consider the terms our foes put before us-"

"A folly!" Daemon spat, releasing (Y/N) to whirl around and stalk away from them. Rhaenyra placed her hand on her husband's arm and swiftly checked his face for bruising before following after her uncle as he crossed the room. (Y/N) rubbed his tender flesh, feeling it tingle lightly under his fingertips. "A folly to give up my brother's throne to the traitorous lies of Otto Hightower!" 

"My throne, Daemon, mine!" Rhaenyra shouted and Daemon slowed down, his jaw visibly clenched as he turned to look at her. Rhaenyra's shoulders slumped, soft panting leaving her. "I think you used my words as an excuse to take your own revenge, to indulge the darkness you keep sheathed within you like a blade."

Daemon sneered, brushing past her to rest his arms across the chair behind her. "You think me some kind of monster-"

"I don't know what to think of you," Rhaenyra admitted. "I don't know what you are, or who it is you serve-"

Daemon laughed then in disbelief. "Am I not on my way, even now, to Harrenhal to raise an army in your name, Rhaenyra?! Yours!"

Rhaenyra shook her head again, more lightly, and tears glittered in her eyes, her body turning to take some steps away from him. Her shoulders trembled with an inhale and she faced him, the tears threatening to fall from her lashes. "Do you..." She began softly, quietly. (Y/N) pressed his lips together and retrieved the pitcher and cup Daemon knocked from the ground, setting them on the table and meeting the prince's eyes. "...accept me as your queen and ruler? Or do you cling, even now, to what you think you lost?" 

Daemon's gaze slowly drew away from the lord to look at her. "What I think I lost?" He echoed just as softly.

"You did not lose it." Rhaenyra chuckled despite her quivering lips, her dress kicking up the dust along the floor when it dragged as she walked toward them. "You gave it away because you thought ever and only of your own glory, and not of my father in his grief who needed you!"

"Your father was a coward who knew I was the stronger son, that I was the leader of men, and he was afraid to be seen in my shadow. Do you believe he made you heir because of your great wisdom? Because of your virtue?" Rhaenyra's lips rolled into her mouth and her arms raised, smacking against her sides and body twisting away from them again. "Or did he merely use you as a tool to put me in my place because he was afraid of me?"

"You were disinherited because you could not help yourself, Daemon." (Y/N) leaned forward slightly, bringing the attention of the two Targaryens onto him. Daemon's eyes narrowed again and he straightened up, his grip on the chair turning his knuckles pure white. "Your inability to keep your mouth shut disinherited you, Daemon. What do you think would have happened if King Viserys allowed you time and time again to get away with insulting the King of Westeros? A brotherly spat behind doors is one thing but to mock his dead child and by extension his dead wife before the smallfolk? They would think him weak, Daemon. You gave him no choice and proceeded to prove it as the right decision by throwing a tantrum like a child!" 

"You-"

"And more so, it is not an achievement to believe your own kin was afraid of you. The downfall of any house, of any family, begins when kin turns against kin. It has been said time and time again, why do you think Rhaenyra desires peace? If dragons dance, dragons will fall, and with them their riders; who will that leave if not ashes and bones? Parentless children? The Realm ripped apart and struggling? By slaughtering a child, you are no better than Aemond."

Daemon stared at him unblinking. "It was a mistake." He hissed lowly. 

"A mistake is making the wrong move during training... spilling the blood of an innocent is a choice; one that I, and everyone else who has come to meet you, knows you capable of making. You... you relish in fear and bloodshed... and that is how you will die if you do not accept change within yourself. How can we keep you close when we cannot be sure what you will do next?" (Y/N) watched him, exhaustion clinging to his body and seeping into his voice. 

Daemon peeled himself away from the chair and stormed past Rhaenyra, slamming the door leading into their bedchambers shut. Rhaenyra staggered forward and slumped down in the chair, bracing her arms on the table and resting her head on her hands. She sniffled quietly and sighed shakily, her head lifting when (Y/N) moved closer and ran his fingertips through her hair. 

"Daemon is... complicated." (Y/N) reminded her softly, lowering himself down to sit beside her. "But he may yet prove himself in Harrenhal, Rhaenyra." 

"One can only dream of such a thing." Rhaenyra sighed, her hand finding his and bringing it to her lips so she could press a soft kiss to the back of his hand. Despite the conversation sucking much energy and emotion of out them, he gave her a gentle smile."But for our sake... I hope you are right."

The doors creaked when they opened and Baela strolled inside, clasping her hands before her and dipping her head. "You wish to see me, Your Grace, My Lord?" Baela questioned softly, stepping further into the room. The splatter of wine and a candle Daemon knocked over in his outburst drawing her attention to the floor momentarily. She grimaced. 

Rhaenyra rose, offering her an exhausted smile. "When morning comes, take Moondancer and keep a watch on King's Landing. I need to know which course they take next. We depend on you, Baela. Stay high and keep your distance." She ordered gently, her hand still clinging to (Y/N)'s. Baela straightened up at her words, a familiar twinkle passing over her eyes that brought a small smile to (Y/N)'s face. "We can afford no further mistakes."

"I will be vigilant." The young girl assured, glancing toward the floor again. Her lips formed a few words, seemingly attempting to find the right ones to say before she cleared her throat and tilted her head slightly. "My father?" She pushed gently, her brows knitting together slightly and a flicker of concern passing over her face.

Rhaenyra pressed her lips firmly together, her shoulders lowering with a heavy exhale. "He must follow his own path." She said simply, and Baela's face fell with a harsh swallow and nod. 

"Baela," (Y/N) called softly when she turned and began making her way toward the door again. She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him questioningly. "You remind me of your mother more and more with each passing day. She'd be proud of you." Baela inhaled sharply, her eyes and features softening at his words. She gave him a thankful smile and turned away to leave the room. 

Once the door closed again, (Y/N) leaned back in the chair and gazed at their hands, watching the glimmer of her rings in the sunlight pouring through the window. "The woman he spoke of... Mysaria, the White Worm, was a stowaway onboard one of our ships. Ser Erryk claimed she wished to speak with me when she was taken but I allowed Daemon to see to her. She may have information for us, about King's Landing or possibly Daemon. But we mustn't hold her prisoner without knowing her intentions and what she may desire, Nyra." 

"I see." Rhaenyra nodded, her eyes downcast and tired. She brought a hand to her stomach, massaging her palm into the clothed flesh that still ached from the painful labor. "Let us speak to her, then, as soon as possible." 

(Y/N) studied her, taking in the watery glaze in her eyes and the tightness of her furrow. A semblance of guilt, perhaps? He couldn't be too sure. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze to draw her attention toward him and tilted his head questioningly. His wife exhaled shakily and released his hand, her back turned away from him and palms running over the skirt of her red dress. 

"I... I cannot help but be... relieved." Rhaenyra admitted quietly. "If Aegon were to die, the Greens would have turned to his child, to the boy. They would have rallied behind him, raised him up against me. My hand would have been forced, eventually, (Y/N). Just as it is now being forced."

"You cannot allow anyone else to hear those words, Rhaenyra. You have spoken of peace time and time again-"

"Yes, yes, I know," She exhaled shakily, her fingertips pushing back a strand of hair. "I... I do not want to be named a kinslayer. I do not wish to follow in the footsteps of Maegor the Cruel. Tales say he was cursed by the gods for slaying his nephew and bled on the throne for all to see. I cannot risk it. No one will follow a kinslaying Targaryen again."

(Y/N) set his hand upon her back and drew her into his chest, hooking his chin over her shoulder and feeling her sink back into him. Rhaenyra's eyes fluttered shut, her head tilting to lean her head against his. "It is admirable to search for peace when many believe bloodshed will solve all problems. A good ruler seeks what is best for their people. The Greens are led by those chasing after their own desires." He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her neck and leaned back. 

"Let us speak with this White Worm."

"You barely touched your supper, Rhaenyra," 

In all the haste and preparations, (Y/N) had nearly forgotten what the scent of an old book smelled like, eager to be read after many ages. The gallery itself was ancient and filled with books and scrolls primarily used in teachings by maesters and septas but now they found use in providing ancient advice to Rhaenyra. Her ancestors, she reminded him, were no strangers to war and infighting. She sought out their knowledge and strategies with no older relative apart from Rhaenys to provide it. 

"I was not hungry," Rhaenyra responded, clutching a book to her chest and approaching the table covered in scrolls and candles. She set it down and flipped it open, sorting through the pages written in Valyrian and running her fingertips over the illustrations of ancestors long dead. She pursed her lips when he stuck a plate of sweets in her face, blocking her vision with sights of honey-covered biscuits. He lifted his brows and she rolled her eyes, lips threatening to tug up into a smile. Plucking one sweet from the plate, she stuffed it in her mouth and pushed aside the plate to resume her reading. 

 The clanking of metal brought their attention to the entryway where Ser Steffon entered with a woman following. He dipped his head in greeting before motioning to the woman. "The Lady Mysaria, Your Grace, My Lord." (Y/N) had expected an older woman deep into her later years but Mysaria seemed youthful in appearance. She was skinny, her cheekbones prominent against her tan skin, and her long dark hair was messy and falling over her shoulders. A former lover of Daemon, no doubt, given her history in Flea Bottom.

"Thank you, Ser Steffon." (Y/N) dismissed the knight and leaned back against the table, folding his arms over his stomach as he took in the White Worm. She shifted from foot to foot, uncertainty in her posture, even when she bowed her head. She hardly seemed like much of a threat, though most succumbed to nerves when presented to a Targaryen, he supposed.

Taking a seat at the table, Rhaenyra rested her arms upon the table, her fingers lacing together as she raked her eyes over the woman. "You're aware of yesterday's events in King's Landing? Tell me what part you played in their unfolding."

Mysaria glanced between the two of them, her brows slowly furrowing. "I had nothing to do with it." She answered quietly, voice heavy with an accent known to those with YiTish heritage.

At her response, Rhaenyra scoffed. "I know you are entwined with the usurpers, that you aided them in denying me my birthright."

"I took profits from an inevitability," Mysaria admitted with a slow nod, her dark eyes jumping away from them and cracked lips pursing. "I regret it now."

"I'm sure you do," Rhaenyra muttered, staring at her for a moment longer before rising from the chair. "Who are you?"

"A prisoner," Mysaria answered, eyes jumping toward (Y/N) when Rhaenyra drew closer with a widened plea. "I gave Daemon two names. That is the extent of it. And I did not wish to do that much. He said it was the price of my freedom." She seemed to grow unsettled when Rhaenyra remained silent and began circling her, visibly swallowing. "Does.. he say otherwise?"

"Daemon has left, Lady Mysaria. For Harrenhal, we presume, and we cannot say when he will be back." (Y/N) piped up, watching her face fall for the briefest of moments before she mustered a blank face, her jaw clenching. Rhaenyra stopped at her side and stared at her, eyes soaking up her features and brows slightly raising. 

"You remember me now," Mysaria mused with a hint of amusement, subtle enough to almost dismiss as nothing. Her head tilted toward the silver-haired queen, shoulders sagging slightly in some relief.

"He said he would marry you," Rhaenyra recalled with semi-widened eyes. "He said you carried his child-"

"Not everyone found the jest funny." Mysaria looked away with a scoff, her eyes rolling at the mention of Daemon's past doings. Ah, (Y/N) remembered then, the old memory of Rhaenyra having to fly out to fetch the egg Daemon had taken that'd once belonged to little Baelon. There'd been mentions of a woman but he hadn't been all too interested in the details. "And now it seems he's done it again, made a promise and then slipped away." 

"Is that why you desired to speak to me when you were found hidden within one of the ships?" (Y/N) piped up with a question, his eyes following Rhaenyra as she returned to his side and leaned against him. 

Mysaria nodded. "I heard of how the King Consort was... kinder than his kin. I had hoped you would listen to my pleas for freedom, my desire to escape from Flea Bottom and any chains Daemon Targaryen could wrap around me. Perhaps I should have refused him, lied, and pretended to know little, but you know how he can be. I can do nothing now to reverse what he has done... I can only ask you to honor his promise in his absence." Mysaria pleaded softly, her voice soaked in genuine exhaustion. 

"You trade in the secrets of the Red Keep. Your web runs unseen through King's Landing." Rhaenyra frowned. "It would not serve me to set you free. At best, I lose an asset to my cause. At worse, you betray me in some foul way." 

"I have no interest in betraying you, Your Grace. I was brought to Westeros with nothing. I toiled in service, I stole. I sold my own body for coin or bread. And I listened. I collected confidences. I made myself valuable to powerful men. Bit by bit, I made my living. A house, a household, a home... then, they set it all aflame." 

"Who did?" 

Her eyes flickered toward (Y/N). "The Hightowers, I assume. The Hand.. did not like it when I showed my teeth. But I thank him for it. For too long, I made it my aim to be of consequence. But now, I see that was the wish of a child. Daemon.. Otto Hightower. Makes no difference. They will never accept me." She gave a dry chuckle. "I may as well have remained a whore." 

The Hightowers had always been a noble family, but all noble families kept their statuses through secrets and skeletons hidden within the foundations of their homes. Quiet orders, spies, assassins, betrayals, bloodshed. He knew well the capabilities of nobles; he'd grown up listening to the drunken tales shared with laughter and smirks that most would consider to be horrid. His father ordering a flame be put out for threatening to grow brighter than him? He believed it, wholeheartedly. 

"You've given us much to think about, Lady Mysaria." (Y/N) told her. "You will hear of our decision soon."

[chesterfieldblossom]

"AMERICAN WEDDING"

Arthur Morgan x Reader (1k words) "Well you can have my mustang / That's all I've got in my name"

SUMMARY | Arthur and you had been in a discreet relationship, but everyone on the camp knew your commitment. But of course, he wanted to make a bit more official. NOTES | It's really short, like just and idea I had on my notes when I was listening American Wedding by Frank Ocean. But I hope y'all enjoy. Also, dividers by @cafekitsune WARNINGS/TAGS | Oneshot, fluff, wedding proposal, f!reader RATING | Teen

"Well, you can have my Mustang." He drawled, voice low and quiet, as though he didn’t want to disturb the night. "That's all I got in my name."

You glanced up at him, the moonlight casting faint shadows across his face, highlighting the lines of weariness that came with the life he led. His eyes, usually hard and distant, were softer now, vulnerable even. Arthur Morgan was not a man who gave easily, and yet, here he was, offering you what little he had—his horse, his loyalty, his heart.

You had thought about marriage before—when you were younger, when life seemed simpler and oblivious. But the image had always been different: a small church, family gathered, maybe even a white dress. Not this—lying on a dusty cot, surrounded by the wilderness, with Arthur Morgan of all people. But that was the thing about life, wasn’t it? It never turned out quite like you imagined.

"Arthur..." You whispered, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just talking about his Mustang. This was Arthur’s way of saying everything—his past, his future, his soul. You could feel his uncertainty, the tension in the way his fingers hovered slightly above you bare arm, as if he was waiting for you to make a move, to push him away, to tell him no.

But you didn’t want to. God, you would be out of your damn mind if you say no.

You reached up, placing your hand on his, stilling his gentle caress. His hand was large, warm, and rough from years of hard work. It grounded you, made you feel safe in this world of chaos. "I don’t need a Mustang, Arthur." You murmured, thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand. "I need you."

His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and for a moment, no one spoke. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, a reminder of the man beneath the outlaw. You could see the boy in he for the first time, a glimpse of your children. You wondered if he ever imagined this for himself, or if he thought he was too far gone for something like love, like commitment.

"I ain’t got much to offer." he finally said, voice hushed, like he was scared the words might break something between you. "Ain’t never been good at... well, any of this. You know that."

You smiled softly, shifting closer to him. "You’re enough, Arthur. Just you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

He didn’t speak for a while, just stared at you, as if he were trying to make sense of how someone could want him—just him. The world had not been kind to Arthur Morgan, and in many ways, it had hardened him. But beneath the roughness, the gruff words and guarded glances, there was a man who felt deeply, who cared more than he let on.

As if making a decision, Arthur suddenly shifted beside you, reaching into the pocket of his worn coat. You watched, curious, as he fumbled for a moment before pulling something out—a small, delicate ring. The band was thin, silver, and simple, with no extravagant jewels, but to you, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

He held it out to you, almost sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Picked it up in town a while back." he admitted, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Didn’t know if you’d... well, if you’d want it. Ain’t much, but it’s real silver."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart swelling in your chest. The fact that Arthur had gone out of his way to find a ring, something so traditional, so symbolic, meant more than words could express. You could see the way he was looking at you, searching for some kind of approval, some sign that this was right.

"Arthur..." You whispered, the voice breaking slightly. "It’s beautiful."

Without another word, he took your left hand in his, his touch gentle but sure. Slowly, almost reverently, he slid the ring onto your finger. It fit snugly, as though it had been made for you, and the cool metal sent a shiver through your skin. The moment felt timeless, as if you were the only two people in the world, surrounded by the quiet wilderness and the faint glow of the stars.

"There." he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now it’s official, I guess."

You couldn’t help but smile, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This was not the wedding you had once imagined, but in every way that mattered, it was better. Arthur Morgan was yours, and you was his, bound not by law or tradition, but by something deeper—something unbreakable.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, the noses brushing, breaths mingling in the cool night air. "I love you, Arthur Morgan." You whispered, the voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."

He closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close, his lips pressing softly to your temple. "I love you too." he murmured, the words coming out rough, like they were foreign to him. But they were real, and that’s all that mattered.

As you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, you looked down at the ring now glinting on your finger. It was simple, yes, but it was yours. Arthur leaned forward, lifting your chin to gave you a kiss. You happily returned, your bodies shifting closer as he embrace you and the lips moved together.

"But Jesus Christ don't break my heart." He whispered. The warm breath brushed on your lips, making you want to kiss him again.

"This wedding ring won't ever wipe off." You promised to him, whispering back.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

yeah these guys were never friends and only see each other as coworkers

[phoenix-flamed]

Oh, I was going to share a fun fact! (And by "fun", I really mean, "wow that kind of sucks a little.") A while back, I'd been talking to @eikonbound about timeline stuff for an RP we're going to do, and for the first time, I actually sat down and thought about just how long "Miles" had spent as a Bearer.

After doing the math, he would have spent at the very least 10 years enslaved -- and the 10 years would only be the case if he was one of the number that were lucky enough to be liberated early on. (To note, however, that extra year is based on me taking a creative liberty that it would take a little bit of time for the original Hideaway to be set up enough to be inhabitable, and for Cid to build up connections across Storm in order to make the liberation of Bearers possible. That extra year can and will vary from RP to RP with applicable characters!)

But even with the number of years set as 10, that means he hadn't been at Hideaway for very long before Clive and Jill first showed up there.

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 14

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, drinking, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, swearing, references to the loss of a parent or parents, reference to past bedroom activities

Seresin Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Now

The ride home was spent in silence. The girls had quickly packed their things and mounted their horses after Savannah had shrieked at their father that she wanted to go home, right that second. Jake had nodded at them that they were going home, and they were all fully packed within a half an hour.

Savannah hadn’t made a peep since, only hissing at their father that his ‘chances’ with her father were now impossible before plopping herself onto a boulder and ignoring them all. Jake had only huffed a sigh and packed both of their bags up before tacking up the horses.

They had taken the short trail back to the ranch and took no stops, so they ended up back at the ranch just before dinner time, their mother peeking her head out of the curtains and frowning at them.

Savannah clumsily dismounted, Angel stomping her foot in discomfort until the petite blond had her designer cowgirl boots on solid ground. With a huff, Savannah whipped her hair as she turned towards their father and hurled her engagement ring at his chest.

“You could’ve been so much more than this,” she hissed at him, jerking her chin at his girls. “We could’ve sent them to a boarding school or to live with their mother, and you could’ve joined the Navy again like you wanted to! Instead, you’ll never be anything but some…some…farmer!”

Jake shook his head slowly at her, his eyes locked on her with a look that Charlie was very happy she had never seen directed at her.

“I would never have let you send my girls to boarding school. Being their father is the best thing I have ever done. And if you can’t see that, then it’s your fault,” Jake’s voice was calm and cool, but Rooster recognized it as he and Buttercup emerged from the house, trying and failing to look nonchalant as they rushed towards the tense looking confrontation. It was Jake’s mission voice. His Hangman voice. The same voice he had used when he had confronted Rooster about the Uranium Mission, about him not having what it takes to fly, about how he was only there because Maverick had flown with Rooster’s old man. Hangman was pure arrogance and jet fuel, with none of Jake’s tenderness and homespun, golden boy manners.

“Or is it your fault for not telling me there were two of those little demons?” Savannah sneered.

“Watch it,” Buttercup stepped forward. “Nobody gets to talk about my girls that way.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “You can have him,” she scoffed as she turned her back on them all and strolled towards the big, black SUV that was thundering up the drive. “Nobody will want him now anyway.”

Rooster moved to stand next to Jake as Savannah clambered up into the SUV that her father was driving, offering the retired Air Force Colonel a sarcastic salute before crouching and retrieving the fallen diamond ring.

They watched in silence as the SUV roared away, a collective sigh of relief rippling through them all as it disappeared into the distance.

“I feel like I should burn this thing,” Rooster mused, staring down at the platinum band. “Y’know, douse it in holy water and set it on fire so it doesn’t attract any more hell spawn.”

Jake groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Shut up, man. Hey! Slow your roll, you two!”

Rooster peered over his shoulder at the twins, who were trying to make a sneaky exit into the house. Rooster chuckled as they glanced at each other and slowed their footsteps but didn’t stop.

“Freeze, ladies!” Buttercup barked, striding towards them. “You know what your father meant.”

With a sigh that heaved their shoulders, Abby and Charlie halted on the porch and turned towards their parents.

Jake crouched in front of them and scanned their faces with his pilot’s precision.

“Someone better start talking…” he murmured into the still air.

“Well, you see—”

“We didn’t actually do anything wrong—”

“It’s only that—”

“Nothing dangerous—”

Jake held up a hand and the air went still again.

“Chipmunks don’t just miraculously appear in a closed saddlebag,” he started, staring between them. “They have to be placed there. And I don’t know anyone better at handling rodents than my daughter Charlie, who has been helping remove chipmunks and squirrels from the hay loft since she was a toddler.” Charlie flushed, kicking at a stone beneath her boot. “And while I appreciate the concern you both had about Savannah having an allergic reaction, that doesn’t explain this.” He pulled the open packet of itching powder out of his jeans pocket. Abby gulped. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the hay around the tent spikes of Savannah’s tent either.” He looked between them. “All I want to know is why?”

He stared at them for a long moment, green clashing with green, until Abby groaned and crumbled. “I’m sorry, Dad, but Savannah was awful. She bragged about being a champion rider, but anyone with eyes could tell she had never been on a horse! And she was always hanging off you like she couldn’t do anything by herself. And…”

“And her vibe was way off, Dad,” Charlie added, stepping forward. “And I think you knew that. That’s why you didn’t introduce us until after you proposed.”

“I didn’t introduce you because you were off at camp,” Jake argued, biting back a groan as he stretched back to his full height. “And I’ll admit that I should’ve told her that you’re twins, but at the time, I thought you didn’t know about each other.”

“So, you kept Abby a secret from me, and I kept my feelings about Savannah a secret from you,” Charlie grinned slyly. “Sounds like we both did the wrong thing, old man.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Maybe…but I’m the adult here. Which means I’m the one who gets to dole out any punishment for unnecessary pranks pulled on the trail ride.”

Charlie gulped. “You’re not going to make Mom and Abby go home early are you?”

Jake’s eyes softened. “I would never do that, Charlie-girl. But you and your sister are going to be doing extra chores around here. You’re going to have to muck out all the stalls in the morning, feed the horses, and polish the tack.”

Abby and Charlie grinned at each other. “Is that it?”

“Restricted phone time,” Buttercup shot them a stern look. “You can have your phones for an hour in the morning and an hour at night. But that’s it. I have no doubt you used your phones to help coordinate these schemes of yours, so this is just a natural consequence.”

“Can Abby still sleep in my room?”

Jake met Buttercup’s eyes and nodded. “We’re okay with that.”

“And we can still go to Uncle Javy’s football game?”

Buttercup grinned at Jake and rolled her eyes fondly. “I suppose that’s alright.”

The girls cheered and hugged each other. “We’re okay with that!”

They grabbed their backpacks and ran into the house, chattering away, and Buttercup sighed before following along behind them.

“Not so fast.”

She blinked and turned to him. “What did I do?”

Jake folded his arms across his broad chest and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You know what you did.”

Buttercup’s hands met her hips as she shifted her weight to jut a hip out. “Do I?”

Jake rolled his eyes as a smile played on his lips. “What exactly did Savannah say to you to make you bail on the trail ride? I know you. Spending time with Abby, getting to know Charlie, the opportunity to see me potentially make an ass of myself? You were ready and willing to go on the ride until I went outside to get the horses ready. So, what did my ex-fiancée say to my ex-wife to scare her off the ride?”

Buttercup scoffed. “I wasn’t scared. I figured it was a good opportunity for the girls to get to know their stepmother.”

“And if their stepmother got the chance to get to know them, and didn’t like what she saw?” Jake’s grin was sharp with challenge.

“Then that would be her loss, just like you said.” Buttercup tossed her hair over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows at him. “I don’t know what you’re implying here, Hangman.”

Jake’s answering chuckle sent a small thrill through her. “I’m implying that I spent three months with Savannah, and the only way she would get near a horse would be if there was a risk of her losing face. And the only person who would be willing to put her in that situation is you. But you wouldn’t do that without reason, so c’mon, darlin’. Out with it.”

Buttercup sighed lightly. “She asked me to write her wedding vows for her. Her vows to you.” She could’ve giggled at the way Jake’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but the whole situation had left her with an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. “It was a power play, plain and simple. So, yeah. Maybe I got the feeling that the girls didn’t like her and would probably make her life hell on the ride, so I might have suggested to Savannah that she should go on the ride because it would make you happy and she would be able to bond with the girls.”

Jake chuckled in spite of himself. “You’re just as diabolical as they are, you know.”

Buttercup shrugged delicately. “They had to get it from somewhere. Too bad for you, I’m an adult too and you can’t dole out any punishment to me.”

Jake shifted on his feet, his quiet chuckle sending tingles through her body as the air around them spiked with…something.

“Not like I haven’t before,” he breathed, mostly to himself.

Buttercup folded her arms across her chest, almost as though she were afraid that her heart would beat right out of her chest. The memories of them, the things they had done together, surged through her brain, her bloodstream, lighting her up like a firefly. But he was still Jake, and any fire between her and Jake had been doused a long time ago, and it had to stay that way. For the good of everyone involved.

“Um,” she swallowed. “Rooster made chili. He said it was some sort of post-trail ride tradition. We were just setting the table when we heard the commotion.”

Jake nodded and patted Firewall’s flank. “Let me just take care of these guys, and I’ll be right in. Make sure you save me a bowl, alright? Charlie would eat the entire pot if we let her.”

Jake groaned as he pushed his bowl away.

“That was your best batch yet, Uncle Roo,” Charlie grinned a sleepy smile, inching towards food coma territory.

“I’m still pissed you couldn’t cook like this when we lived together,” Natasha grumbled, though the smile on her face stole any bite the words might have held.

Bob nodded in agreement. “The whole squadron would be shocked that Mr. Ramen and Burnt Toast has a degree from culinary school.”

Rooster grunted at them. “I only burnt my toast once. You two just won’t let me forget it.”

“More than once,” Javy grinned at him, leaning back in his chair, and Jake smiled. It seemed like, for tonight at least, Javy and Nat had called a truce. They hadn’t glared or shot thinly veiled remarks at each other all night. Of course, they hadn’t spoken or looked at each other either, but Jake found himself grateful for the lack of anything between them.

“Alright, well maybe I should prove my badass kitchen skills then, huh?” Rooster leaned forward, a smirk tugging on his lips. “I think it’s high time for a Daggers Reunion. What do you say? We can celebrate the fact that Jake isn’t gonna marry that absolute pain in the ass he called a fiancée.”

“Rooster!” Buttercup looked shocked. “I know you didn’t like her, but Jake wouldn’t have asked her to marry him if he didn’t have feelings for her.”

Javy scoffed. “More like feelings about his future. Your boy here didn’t want to have an empty nest when Charlie grows up, so he was gonna—ow, shit!” Javy winced as Jake’s foot connected with his knee. “Dude, what the hell?”

Buttercup felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “It’s alright, Jake. I get it. They’re almost 12. In six years or so, they’ll be off and we’ll be left on our own. I don’t know what the future holds for me either, and it’s a scary thought.”

“Don’t worry, Mum,” Abby yawned, leaning against her sister. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Buttercup grinned. “Thank you, baby. But I do think maybe you two should go upstairs to bed. You’ve had a busy day.”

Abby nodded and tugged Charlie off her chair before hugging her mother, then her father.

Charlie followed suit but stilled at the landing of the staircase. “I like Uncle Roo’s idea. A Dagger’s reunion sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Alright, kiddo. We’ll see if we can make it happen,” Jake smiled softly at the girls as they ascended the staircase.

“Can we also go out to dinner tomorrow?” Abby paused a few steps from the top. “Just the four of us? As a family?”

Jake nodded. “Sure, baby. Whatever you want.”

“Okay. Night, Dad. Night, Mum. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” their parents chorused.

“Dude, you’re such a softie now,” Natasha smirked at him over the lip of her wine glass. “They just cost you your fiancée, Bagman. And you’re letting them call the shots.”

Jake fixed her with a look. “I’m not soft, Phoenix.” He grinned. “In fact, everyone else on this ranch have been pulling their weight, except you two. So, I’d really appreciate it if you and Baby On Board would do the dishes while Javy and I go make sure everything is locked up tight.”

Natasha gaped at him. “What about Buttercup? Or Rooster?”

“Rooster cooked,” Jake shrugged. “And Buttercup’s been working on her novel. What have you and Bob been up to? Other than drinking my wine, eating my food, and eating up my Wi-Fi?” Natasha glared and he grinned. “Enjoy. C’mon, Javy.”

The two men rose from their seats and left the room, clearly headed to make sure the ranch was locked up for the night. Rooster rose with a groan and mumbled something about watching the football game in his room, leaving after patting Buttercup on the head.

Natasha looked around at all the dirty dishes and grumbled. “Your husband is such an asshole.”

“Ex,” Buttercup clarified quietly, running her finger over the lip of her glass. “Besides, you shouldn’t have shot your mouth off with the softie comment. You had to have known he’d retaliate.”

“Yeah, but did he have to bring me into it?” Bob sighed, already gathering dishes and taking them into the kitchen.

Buttercup giggled as her family disappeared into the kitchen, the soft sounds of their bickering carrying through the archway as she stared at the darkened front door, waiting for Jake to return.

The next day passed smoothly, and the four occupants of the main house (plus the grumpy uncle living in the attic) fell into a rhythm of sorts. Jake and the girls were out of the house by the time Buttercup woke up, jetlag and a sleepless night weighing on her mind. However, she found a breakfast of cinnamon oatmeal and fruit salad waiting for her on the stove and a box of her favourite tea sitting next to the kettle. Buttercup settled into the desk in her bedroom and cranked out a few more pages of her book, the characters finally deciding to play along and follow the plot, though the plot wasn’t turning out exactly the way she had imagined it. By the time noon came around, she had wandered down into the kitchen, where she helped Rooster prepare barbecue chicken Ceasar wraps for everyone before going out into the ranch and calling her family home to eat. After their meal, Jake stole them all away to the local high school, where he assisted Javy with coaching their football team. Even when they had been together, Buttercup hadn’t been much of a football fan, but she found herself enjoying the time spent in the bleachers, especially when Jake would demonstrate a play for the rookie quarterback (though she would deny that last part to the ends of the earth and back).

By the time they got back to the ranch, the girls were hustling their parents into their bedrooms to change for their family dinner.

“Babe, we didn’t even make a reservation,” Buttercup sighed as Abby shoved her make up bag into her hands and pushed her towards the ensuite bathroom.

“Any place that would dress code me for not wearing a suit would be booked up months in advance, kiddo,” Jake protested as Charlie tossed his navy-blue suit onto his bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” both girls had reassured their parents. “Our aunt and uncles took care of everything.”

The statement had been less than reassuring, but both parents were determined to play ball. Buttercup had conceded to wearing her aqua coloured midi dress (a dress Charlie had insisted she pack once she had seen it in her mother’s closet back in London) and had even put on the diamond necklace that had been a joint Christmas present from her family last year. Jake had begrudgingly put on his navy suit and the silver and blue aviator watch he had bought on a whim a few years back. The girls had dressed up in matching black dresses (no doubt a gift from their Uncle Bob) and ushered them out of the house before they could say goodbye to Bob, Rooster or Natasha. 

“Alright, ladies,” Jake grinned, spinning his car keys around his finger. “Ready to tell me exactly where we’re going?” He started as Charlie clamped onto his wrist, dragging him down the dirt path towards the dude ranch.

“Right this way, old man.”

Jake craned his neck back just in time to see Abby take a much gentler grip on her mother’s arm, steadying her as the heels of her shoes sunk into the dirt.

“Charlie, your mother is going to break her neck out here without much light.” In truth, the sun would be going down in a few hours, but the way it hung low in the sky had shadows painting the path in darkness. Charlie blinked up at him, a challenge gleaming there, and Jake sighed. “Let me go, kid.”

He shook off his daughter’s grip and strode backwards until he could offer Buttercup his elbow. “C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured. “Can’t have you breaking an ankle out here. Don’t want a lawsuit on my hands.”

Buttercup chuckled as she wrapped her arm around his. “Thank you…” she whispered as Abby pranced up the path to join her sister. “Honestly, I don’t know how they come up with so many harebrained schemes.”

“You think they’re scheming?”

She shot Jake a knowing look. “Do you know any family friendly restaurants where the diners dress up like this?” She gestured to their semi-formal clothing. “And if you do know any, are any of them located down this dirt path?”

Jake nodded his head towards her, conceding her point. “They’re your daughters, alright.”

She elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “I’m not the scheming parent, thank you very much.”

“Seriously? Wasn’t eloping in Vegas your idea?”

She bit her lip to hide her grin. “That wasn’t a scheme. That was taking advantage of the air show in Vegas and the fact that everyone we loved was there. Besides, that didn’t run the risk of potential bodily harm.”

Jake shook off the zing of pain that ran through him at the memory and forced the smile to remain on his face. “Maybe for you, but I have only the haziest memory of the morning after our wedding. Rooster and Fanboy kept pouring marga-beers down my throat even though you told them to stop.”

Buttercup giggled, and something warm flared in Jake’s chest. “Maybe they get it from them then. Rooster, Javy, and Natasha are all pretty heavy handed with the schemes, aren’t they?”

“Oh, more than you know,” Jake laughed as they approached the gazebo that overlooked the manmade pond. They’d put both features in a few years previous, trying to make the dude ranch more attractive for people who wanted more of a vacation than a chance to prove themselves on a ranch.

“Girls?” Buttercup called as they jumped up onto the gazebo before ducking out of sight. Within seconds, the whole structure was lit up, the tiny fairy lights glittering off the water.

“Speaking of schemes…” Jake muttered, guiding Buttercup over the rocky terrain and up onto the gazebo.

In the center, a small, round table for two sat invitingly, a vase of fresh wildflowers pushed to one side to make room for the plates, cutlery, and linen napkins that waited to be used.

“Hoo boy,” Buttercup whispered as he pulled out one of the wrought iron chairs and helped her sit comfortably.

“Girls, what are you doing?” Jake turned to find them standing by the stairs of the gazebo.

“We…wanted to thank you!” Charlie grinned. “Y’know, for being so nice about us switching places.”

“And blackmailing you,” Abby added.

“And blackmailing you,” Charlie nodded her agreement. “Oh! And we wanted to apologize for chasing off Savannah.”

“And you decided that a romantic dinner for two was the best way to do that?” Buttercup’s face was filled with such bemusement that Jake had to laugh.

“Well, if you’re going to coparent, you need to be able to get along,” Abby chirped cheerfully. “Consider this our way of trying to make that happen!”

“We’re going to leave you to eat,” Charlie grinned. “I really hope you can make it through a simple dinner without arguing. That would bode really well for all of us.”

Jake groaned as the girls skipped away, then groaned again when a shadowy figure stepped into the gazebo, carrying two serving trays.

“Hey man, don’t groan at me. Those two little demons are your spawn,” Javy muttered as he set the two trays of food on the table. “They’re better at finding information and using it to their advantage than the freakin’ Navy.”

Natasha scoffed as she stepped up beside Javy, brandishing a bottle of wine in each hand. “If they weren’t so damn cute, I’d want to kill them.”

Buttercup blinked at them. “You got sucked into another one of their schemes?”

Natasha shrugged. “Apparently, I need to watch what I say when Abby and I are watching trashy TV and eating junk food. The kid’s got Fort Knox as a memory. Don’t know what his excuse is though,” she added, jerking her head at Javy. “Now, do you want red or white? Because Rooster said either will work with the food, but Abby will throw a hissy fit if I don’t play along.”

“They got Bradshaw into this too?” Jake turned to Javy, who shrugged.

“You two somehow managed to raise two extremely intelligent blackmailers, with zero input from the other person and an ocean between you. It’d be impressive if it wasn’t kinda terrifying.” Javy sighed. “Natasha and I will be watching from the cabin. Buttercup, as much as you may want to, please don’t drown him in the lake.”

Buttercup stifled a giggle as their friends strolled away. “Well, at least they’re not arguing anymore,” she mused before lifting the lid off her meal and smiling. “Penne a la vodka with a side salad. How did they know?”

Jake gulped and hoped the dim lighting did enough to hide the redness in his cheeks. They had gone for Italian food for their first date, and that’s what they had both ordered. Buttercup because it was her favourite, and Jake because he’d been so taken with her that he had just said “Same” so that they could get back to their conversation without the waiter being present.

“I might’ve mentioned it once, I guess,” he murmured, taking the lid off his dish and picking up his fork.

“Should we toast or something?”

Jake smiled softly and picked up his glass of red wine. “To…fresh starts?”

Buttercup smiled so sweetly at him that his chest ached with it. “Yeah, fresh starts sound good.”

Buttercup couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard. Her sides ached and her cheeks hurt and she desperately hoped that she had put on waterproof mascara because, otherwise, she would have racoon eyes from the tears of laughter she had shed.

She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t real. This was the part of her relationship with Jake that had been easy. Falling in love with him had been as easy as breathing. He could make her laugh until she cried, and he would hold her while she cried until he could make her laugh. He made her want to pull her hair out, but one look at those bright green eyes and that sinful smile, and she would forget all about why he frustrated her. She always counted herself lucky that he was there to frustrate her. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that she would rather run the gamut of emotions with Jake Seresin than risk not feeling anything so strongly with another person.

Loving him was easy. Making it work with him was another story. And now, they had two young daughters who were depending on them. She wasn’t about to risk letting them down again. Still, she found she couldn’t quite keep her guard all the way up around him.

“…and that is why I will never take Charlie to another baseball game,” Jake finished his story to Buttercup’s peals of laughter.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you two,” she giggled breathlessly.

“Hey, she’s half you. She doesn’t get those nerves of steel from me.”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “Oh please. How many confirmed air-to-air kills do you have under your belt?”

“Hey! That’s totally different. Having nerves of steel in the air while facing down enemy aircraft is completely different from having your six-year-old daughter try to beat the shit out of the opposing team’s mascot because it kinda looked like a monster from her nightmare.”

Buttercup snorted. “I don’t know about that. Sounds like you were both protecting yourselves with those nerves of steel.”

“You were too,” Jake said quietly, taking a sip of his wine.

“When?”

“When you left…” Buttercup froze, and Jake almost regretted saying anything. Almost. “It took guts to leave. I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but you were doing what was right for you.”

“I…” Buttercup took a fortifying sip of wine. “I hope you know I didn’t leave just because of you. I mean, I hope you know that I didn’t leave to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Emboldened by the wine, Jake reached out and took her hand. “C’mon, darlin’. Of course I know that. I know you never wanted to hurt me, and I know it felt like you were ripping your own heart out to leave Charlie behind.” He gave her hand a firm squeeze and something squeezed in his heart when she returned the gesture.

“I wish the pandemic had never happened,” Buttercup sighed. “It would’ve been so much easier to keep to the custody schedule if air travel hadn’t become so dangerous.”

Jake nodded. “I wish the court lady hadn’t transcribed our phone numbers wrong.”

Jake had called his lawyer earlier in the day and found that both of their numbers had been written wrong in the paperwork. It had happened to a few other clients, and that’s how they had come to realize that the court stenographer had been drinking on the job.

Buttercup scoffed. “Yeah…the odds were stacked against us at every turn.”

“You really think so?”

Buttercup blinked at him. “You don’t think so? Your deployments, my diagnosis, the pandemic, the clerical error? You don’t think that was fate stamping a big red X on our family?”

Jake leaned forward, close enough to her that she could smell the sharp tang of his cologne and the deep woodsy undertones that were pure Jake. “I think we had a hell of a lot going for us but neither of us knew how to handle the bumps in the road and we fell apart. Tell me, Buttercup. If we knew then what we know now, would we have made it?”

The question made her pause, made everything inside of her freeze. If her past self had all of her present knowledge, would they have made it? Would they have been able to dig through the tunnel of bullshit and make it out clean on the other side? She could imagine it. The open communication, the therapy, the fights they’d have, but together, not against each other.

She shivered at that imaging and met his green gaze. “I’m getting cold,” she whispered. “I think it’s time we go inside.”

Jake sighed but nodded, taking off his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

Knowing that Javy and Nat were on dish duty, he offered Buttercup his elbow and slowly guided her down the path, the silvery light of the moon illuminating mere feet in front of them. She leaned against him more now than she had when they had initially walked the path, but Jake knew that was the jetlag and wine working against her.

“We’ll have to thank Rooster for dinner,” she mumbled as they strolled. “That was probably the best penne I’ve had since—shit!” Her heel caught on a rock in the path and she pitched forward. Quick as a flash of lightning, Jake had her secure against him, one arm wrapped around her waist and one pressing between her shoulder blades.

“I’ve got you, you’re okay,” he murmured into her hair, only realizing how close they were when the scent of Hawaiian orchid wafted over him.

“S-sorry,” she whispered, leaning into his chest more as she steadied herself. She looked up and met his gaze, their noses almost brushing. All it would take was a tilt of her head, and they would be—

Buttercup abruptly pulled away from him, leaning down to take off her shoes and dangling them between her fingers.

“Sorry,” she murmured again. “I didn’t mean to…I can’t…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jake’s hand warmed the middle of her back. “No harm done, right?”

Buttercup gulped back the knot in her throat as she nodded. “Yeah…no harm done.”

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[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

xi. eleven: every word you say

the sunlight did not reach her face. there was no sunlight in sight at all, aside from the most external door that shows a little hint of the visible spectrum. she stirred awake on the hard floor she slept, if she had any at all. she slowly sat up, finding the colonel on the adjacent cell, staring into nothingness.

they have yet to acknowledge each other's presence, trapped in their own battles inside. it was a surreal thing—to feel that it was both the end and the beginning. they have long let go of any hopes in receiving a lighter sentence, and that act is what made it possible for them to breathe despite the stifling feeling.

they have found freedom. losing all hope was freedom.

hence, the young silva raised her gaze to the ragged man across. his rank is not apparent on his current state, stripped off of dignity and proper legacy. she pulled him to the deepest ocean floor a man has never explored to.

"i am so sorry, raphael." raine broke the silence, feeling utterly apologetic for bringing the man with her in this fate.

"there is no need." he replied, closing his eyes as he leaned on the wall.

there really was no need. although his tone may have sounded frustrated, it was not directed to the girl. coming to think of it, he believes he would have done the same. he actually did, when he admitted to the suspicions just so she could be saved. the young silva, however, was hardheaded. a small chuckle left his lips as he looked at her in thought.

"you know, your father would be proud."

"oh, silence." raine rolled her eyes in jest, "i have not slept well with how much my eyes poured last night. do not make me cry again."

"but it is true."

"i know," she turned to him with weak eyes, "he asked me one time, if he was being too forceful in making me the viscountess or also the fact that he taught me things that a proper lady would not have preferred."

she laughed at the memory of her father teaching her how to hold a dagger at four, and her mother in utter worry as she caught them both.

"he was afraid he turned me into something he wanted instead of being someone I want to be."

the lady chuckled before continuing, "i told him I do not see myself embroidering at all. he laughed like crazy."

raphael weakly laughed at the story. by the mention of the girl's teaching experiences, a memory resurfaced in his mind as well.

"did you know that your father used to say you shoot like—i apologise for the term we use in the military amongst men—a virgin?"

despite being above average compared to the general public, her shooting really did not pass her father's standards. she could shoot, yes, but it would not have been enough for war. armand concluded that it was enough at the very least for self-defense.

raphael lifted one end of his lips, "i bet he would say otherwise now."

"that is because now i am not." she said with indifference, missing the way the man sat up from his leaning, turning to her fully.

"...wait, what—you mean...?" he asked curiously, his will returning to his voice in spite of their current situation.

raine looked at him and she found it interesting how curious he was at the topic. she let out a short giggle before slowly nodding. his mouth noticeably went ajar at that as he pried more.

"the bridgerton son?" she nodded once again, raphael leaning back down in surprise, shaking his head in disbelief, "your father is going to kill you."

"no need. the crown is doing it for him."

both laughed in chorus—how they could still jest in a situation like this is lost. perhaps, it was there saving grace. little joys do really count.

"i cannot fathom what you could possibly find so amusing in a place like this."

the queen's voice announced her arrival, her face grimacing in disgust at the place. the two greeted her with respect, standing from their position. she looked around, as if assessing their surroundings before settling her eyes to the girl.

her majesty sighed resignedly, "why ever did you have to shoot him?"

"he talked too much."

"that he did." she had no problem agreeing with that statement at all. the lord had been bothering her as well before about royal familial matters.

she clasped her hands, forming the words to say, "i have spoken to have a private execution for you both. it was granted. this is the least i could do, considering everyone has voted for a beheading instead of hanging."

raine nodded thankfully at that. she did not care much. either way, they would be dead. she inquired further, "the soldiers?"

"all free from the charges."

the two released a breath of relief. that was one of their main goals—for the rest of the troop to be able to go home and spend the following years with their families.

"thank you, aunt lottie. that is all i ask." she smiled warmly to the older woman.

"it will be in an hour." the queen noted, pertaining to the execution.

it must already be five in the afternoon already. the young silva did not know how time flew by so fast. she neared the girl, pushing a hand through the bars of her cell. raine held her hand as she continued.

"make death proud to take us."

raphael and raine's ears perked at that, their brows crossing as the queen took back her hand slowly, "how do you know of it?"

charlotte offered them a smile before she turned away, "your father had been a good company."

after the queen, major gilbert and the viscount bridgerton also stopped to visit them. the former relayed the gratefulness of the soldiers by the news of their freedom, while the latter updated her on how the queen is working on for a proper investigation against the said involved people in the treason with the help of the papers that was left to him. they did not take long, of course. the prison had that effect. it was very suffocating.

yet, her breath came back at the sight of the man in front of her.

"what are you doing here?" she said in concern, her lips quivering as she scrambled on her feet.

benedict reached to her, cupping her face with a tearful smile, "i told you. i will always be here."

she shut her eyes in shame of her current state, "you should not see me like this."

he chuckled with tears in his eyes, "like painfully beautiful?"

"like dying." she corrected in all honesty as he went silent, his heavy breathing speaking for himself.

his lips formed a thin line, features traced with painstaking gaze, "you are so unfair."

"i know," she admitted, knowing exactly what he meant, "i am so sorry."

he hushed her, his palms still on her cheeks as he soothed—both tracing the tear marks that intensified their emotions.

"forget about me. let go of this grief completely." she bleakly uttered, torment clear on her voice.

benedict immediately responded a multiple series of 'no' with an intense shaking of his head in disagreement. he would do anything to not forget her, both the joy and painful memories. he would cherish everything that she was present in. he would cling onto every word she utters.

"and in case you do forget about me," she continued, cupping his face with the utmost care, "i hope you remember by my touch alone.

he nodded fervently, "i love you."

he leaned his head to hers, their breaths exchanging as if he was used to the taste of pain on a dead friday night.

"i love you too."

they wanted to be together for as long as they could, and if that's not very long, well, then that's just how it is. and so, they held each other for the last time, coming to terms that if this life will be this cruel, he would spend the rest of his life praying that the next will not be.

he wanted to badly stay with her, to stop the time and prolong this moment. but, it seemed like he had angered the gods as a guard knocked his truncheon on the door, calling for him to exit for the fifteen-minute preparation before the execution.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

no later, guards entered the cells, taking both prisoners with no austerity in their touch. it was so strange for them to the point that it was hard to swallow. they have seized and lead criminals of darkest crimes to their end, yet they find themselves wanting to break the two out.

a viscountess and a colonel, both still children in their own way.

they have never thought there comes a day they would dread their work, and the executioner would say the same. because just as they all arrived in the execution stage, the forty-five soldiers, four members of the bridgerton family, and the queen are in attendance. as she caught sight of them, raine offered a brief, forlorn smile. these people are the ones who she is most thankful of.

executions happen at a faster pace than the young silva thought. one moment they were walking, the next they were kneeling. the executioner bowed to the both of them when they arrived, now asking for forgiveness on the duty he must do in a while. loraine granted him that.

he stood back up, announcing clearly, "you have been granted to speak your final words."

she turned to take a look at raphael, the latter nodding as a sign for her to speak for them both. raine casted her head down in thinking of the words she must say for the last time. she looked back at them all, to no one in particular, and dared to raise her eyes to her terrible fate as she began.

"when a crime goes unpunished, the world is unbalanced. when the wrong is unavenged, the heavens look down on us in shame. we too must die for this circle of vengeance to be closed. we will leave this record of our courage so the world will know who we were and what we did."

as she ended, they both tied the cloth firmly to cover their eyes. at the absence of sight, fear started to creep in. she could hear the executioner stepping away from her and to the colonel first. he declared with resolve, a means of comforting the two souls.

"death is proud to take you."

raine exhaled peacefully at that. it was a reply to their previous convictions—a way of reassuring they have done well.

and so, she did not panic, even when the sound of a drop on the floor filled the place.

raphael had been a great friend, soldier, and a person. the silva would not mind having to fight beside him once again.

the room stayed silent, with no other noise but the small whimpers of the audience. however, it was immediately overshadowed by the sound of footsteps, nearing her one step at a time. she guessed this must be it.

loraine's mind became blank. she hurried herself to think of memories—those that she would love to relive. she had a strange belief that it would not be as painful if she was feeling happy. but, it was also strangely hard to be one in the moment. all she could think of was that maybe, dying is the best option for her in this life. there was no home for her anymore.

and when she greets death, she hoped it is gentle. she hoped it is like going home. she believed a great happiness awaited her somewhere.

and for this reason, she remained calm as the axe hit her neck.

the audience found themselves letting go of the prolonged silence, breaking out to their cries. however, one person did not have any tear or voice left in himself anymore as he stared at the trail of blood that was starting to accumulate and flow away from the body.

indeed, a lot can happen in a day.

he was annoyed by her in one, taken by her in one, and loved her in one. he is grieving for her in one, and he will long for her in one.

and so, he was left with nothing but to face reality—realising that a very frightening thought is now shadowing him intimately.

when tomorrow depends to a person, what should one do? when that person is lost, does that mean tomorrow is too?

love was there. it may have not changed anything. it may have not saved anyone. but, it still matters that the love was there.

because, raine did not need to be saved. she needed to be found and appreciated for who exactly she was. her father has taught her that this world was only a preparation for the next, that all they can ask is to leave it having loved and being loved.

and benedict, until the very last moment, made that known to her and everyone else. she was found. she was appreciated. she was loved.

all by him.

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[kleftiko]

❦ BEFORE YOUR EYES

cw: this is fluff, canon typical violence alluded to, fem!reader, they have a child in the end

it was 845, just before the first wall fell. you were 16 and scrambling outside upon hearing the noise in trost. the scout regiment were off on another expedition and you wanted to catch a glimpse.

as soon as your gaze found him, you smiled. his bored eyes only faced forward, ignoring the mumbling and grumbling of bystanders as he rode his horse. he never showed an emotion other than annoyance or indifference, and for some reason you were swooned by it.

as he passed, you swore you saw your life with him flash before your eyes—the tears, the laughs, the love.

just as he was about to lose your focus, you cupped your hands around your mouth.

“captain levi!” everyone looked at you, his apathetic glare locking onto you as you felt your heart skip a beat.

“marry me, please!” you shouted.

for a second, nothing moved. for a fraction of a moment, his eyes must have widened the tiniest bit in surprise, until attention moved to the person beside him cackling their heart out from your outburst. with that, captain levi flicked their head and turned his back to you as he continued along.

all of a sudden, it’s a few years later and your first day with the survey corps. commander hange was learning the names of the handful of rookies that joined and came up to you.

“and you are?” they asked.

you proudly salut and say, “y/n, commander! i’m the future mrs. ackerman!”

after a blink, they break out into hysterical laughter that takes you back a few years. they grip onto your shoulders for support but nonetheless take you to captain levi, introducing you to him as his future wife.

with a rapidly beating heart, you hope that you make a good impression, you’re now a 19-year-old adult, no longer that child he first saw. you were prepared to win him over now.

but captain levi doesn’t give you a second look. his gaze lifted from paperwork, no change in his expression, before it fell back to the desk and he gave you a monotone, “good luck, cadet.”

you were 22 when you first saw the ocean. shoes off, the salty water dehydrated your toes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move from the foreign feeling. the younger ones splashed around, picking up weird looking things with awe. you felt a tear roll down your cheek as you stared at the horizon, the idea that there was a whole world out there that you had no idea about too much to comprehend.

you don’t know what it was that made you look, but you turned your head to your captain.

he hadn’t changed from the man you saw on that horse years ago. he was still levi. and he was staring back at you, same look you had always given him across his features.

at 25, you don’t know how he’s done it. all the fighting and the loss he’s suffered, year after year. it’s no wonder he doesn’t sleep at night. you’re around the age he was when you first asked him to marry you, when you looked up to him as a hero. now, he laid beside you in bed, sheets between your legs as he held your fingers and brought your hand up to his lips for a soft kiss in hope of coaxing you to sleep.

the next day, you would go to marley, chasing eren and his revolution.

your head was on the pillow as you looked up at levi who sat reading the paper.

his eyes were tired, but he was a good soldier. this was what he did, and the thought of what happens when this is all over crossed your mind.

“marry me.” you whispered.

he looked down at you with the same face he had the day at the sea.

holding eye contact, he lifts your hand once more and places a kiss on it.

“of course.” his voice was deep.

now you wash dishes. a soft hum coming from your lips as you listen to your husband and daughter at the kitchen table.

his scarred face never scared her, and he always answered all of her non-judgmental questions.

you sneak a peek. she’s sitting in his lap, her hands playing his his own larger one, not concerned with the fact that he was missing a few fingers.

“what happened, daddy?” she asks, holding her arm beside her dad’s, probably wondering why she had more fingers than him.

your five-year-old had never known war and, hopefully, would never have to. the idea that one day she would hear of the horrors her parents went through made you tear up.

“he didn’t go to sleep when he was supposed to, so a monster ate his fingers.” you tease and your daughter gasps.

levi grunts. “don’t tell her shit like that.”

you raise your eyebrow at him. “don’t swear in front of our daughter.”

he smiles. he always does when he hears ‘our daughter’ or ‘our home’. he now has soft crows feet around his eyes, and his dark hair has a couple sprinkles of grey here and there, but he’s still your levi.

you would ask him to marry you all over again.

[hxjikonn]

(Artist: @/wrt_428 on twtr)

Octavinelle trio x GN!Reader who loves exploring the ocean

☆Staring☆: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, And Floyd Leech

TW!! Just some foul words and cusses (all in a light hearted manner though nothing serious)

Synopsis: Octavinelle trio reaction to GN!Reader who loves to dive under the sea to explore.

Azul Ashengrotto

Was weirded out by you. As in “I’m gonna keep an eye on this odd human who like to go down the ocean to play with fish just incase”

He met you at a beach at night (and no not the romantic “beach at moonlight love at first sight” thing) he was looking for coins for his coin collection…and you…you just dived into the water

He didn’t care at first cuz you were just one human, but he noticed it’s been too long since you’ve went down. He thought you drowned😭

Slightly concerned he went after you but then saw you just swimming around following a group of sea horses

He kinda sorta just watched you play around, lay on the sea bed, collect a few shells and rocks you thought were pretty

You occasionally came up for air, and when you do he hides behind big rocks thinking you wont notice. (You did.)

Neither of you made a move to approach each other though. Untilllllll you found a pretty shiny coin.

Azul gasped (underwater?? Idk if you can do that but whatevs) you heard it and for the first time you actually made eye contact with the human octopus guy

Azul thought you’d be afraid of him so he started scaring you that he was a sea witch and that he’d curse you if you don’t give him the coin.

Your dumbass (yes I’m calling you out) laughed…underwater…and you were waayyy down to get up the surface without drowning.

Azul thought he scared you too much (he’s sorta dumb too lol) so one of his tentacles grabbed you and swam up as fast as he could.

Long story short, after you vomited the gallon of sea water in your system, you thanked him and gave him the coin, he was happy but didn’t try to make it obvious (it was very obvious)

You started looking for him whenever you went diving since that day, he was lowkey waiting for you everyday too and is sad when you dont come

When you do come you ask him tons of questions about his tentacles and use them as your personal chair, or cling to one of them when Azul starts swimming just because it’s fun

He acts annoyed, but he really enjoys your company. Even finding ways for you to stay underwater longer so you could stay with him more often

He tries to keep you near shore, he wants to show you around more but you’re a small human. Perfect prey for big underwater predators.

Helps you collect shells and rocks, thinks it’s endearing that you have the same hobby as he does.

And ofc Azul isn’t azul without his contracts, practically sales talk you to make a contract with him so he can make you breathe underwater

Not because he’s worried you accidentally drown or anything no totally not that /sarcasm folks *wink wink*

It’s because according to him “he wants to make you his coin searcher so he can complete his coin collection” (it’s already complete, he has like 25 complete albums just of coins…)

You never agree though 💀💀💀 I guess Azul just has a human to watch after now so they wont drown

——————————————————————————

Jade Leech

Would be fascinated by you. Bro would “observe” you for hours…

When he found you, you were laying on the sea bed…eye closed…star fish pose…he thought you were a dead body 😭😭

“Floyd forgot to clean up his mess again…” he said to himself…thinking Floyd prolly went on a squeezing spree again

He approached you, because he was gonna pull your body up shore so the other humans can deal with. But when you opened your eyes and saw the long wiggly worm fish man you freaked out

You freaked out so hard you inhaled water 💀 And it took him a few seconds to realize that you weren’t dead…but you were about to be if he doesn’t get you up

He did though, really quickly too. You thought you guys were gonna jump through a different dimension due to how fast he swam.

Once you were up, and you got the sea water you inhaled out of your system, Jade was still watching you…just staring at you with half his face still in the water, his unblinking eyes are the only ones that are surfaced…

You were scared outta your damned body but you still thanked him for saving your stupid ass.

You were more scared when he talked. 💀💀💀

“HOLY SHIT YOU CAN TALK?!!?” “yes. ^^”

He started asking questions about why the fuck you were laying down where he found you cuz tbh who wouldn’t???

You explained to him that you just like to stay underwater and explore, and that you can hold your breath for a long time so it doesn’t bother you that much

He apologized for scaring you and offered to take you to different parts of the ocean when you go diving again…

You agreed of course, and after that he’s stuck to you. Fascinated by the human who loves being underwater.

When he takes you to places, he doesn’t really go exploring with you, he just follows along, watching you curiously look at everything

You two made a signal where you blink two times to tell him you need to go up for air, and he would swim you up and wait for you to catch your breath before swimming back down

He lets you cling onto him when he swims cuz he knows you have fun when you do that.

He keeps you away from danger too, he can fight but he rather not considering you’re a fragile little human who he might put at risk when he fights off predators who’d want to eat you.

Thinks it’s cute that you play with fishes, so cute he almost buys you a collar with “Jade’s pet human” written on it 😭

Is sad when you have to go home, he understands you need to go back to your home up shore cuz your a human and you get tired

But he ALWAYS asks for an extra hour, if you’re tired, you can use him as a bed…underwater…where he’s close to you.

Tries to send subliminal messages to Azul for him to turn you into a fish already so Jade can keep you with him and you never have to leave.

——————————————————————————

Floyd Leech

Thought you were trying to find creative ways to die 😭💀

He wasn’t in a good mood when he found you, he wanted to squeeze the life out of you for trespassing in his territory

But then he saw you dancing with jellyfishes… “what in the spongebob squarepants are they doing?” He thought.

Saw you get stung a couple of times and expected you to get angry at the jellyfish but you didn’t, it hurt sure but when you got stung you just rubbed it and continued on

You were happy with what you were doing which is what made Floyd more curious, he silently followed you around after that, he didn’t bother hiding from you

In fact you notice him following you, and look at him a couple of times thinking he wants to eat you, but he doesn’t even make a move, just stares

As much as he was curious about you, you too were curious about him. So one time, you saw his tail poking out form behind a rock….you touched it…he was shocked so his first instinct was to strangle you thinking you were some guy tryna pick a fight with him…you passed out 💀

When you woke up you were up shore…instead of the sky though, you saw a couple of dilated pupils staring back at you…

“Uhhh hi?” You blinked at him a couple of times

He thought you died, he was happy you didn’t cuz he was amused by your guts to touch his tail like that knowing you could probably die

He asked if you were okay before squeezing you into a tight soul crushing hug claiming that your “his human” now

He asks you lots of questions and you try your best to answer each one, still shaken up about the near death experience you had just went through

After that he waits for you at the beach everyday, he wants you by his side all the time from then on

He clings on to you all the time when you’re underwater, wraps himself around your little body, does the swimming for you since he thinks you’re slow carrying you with him

Gets bored when you collect shells and rocks but still tries his best to be patient since you looks so cute and small just searching the sea bed for them

He doesn’t see value in the things you’re collecting but when you gave him a green rock he kept it on his shelves at home always looking at it and smiling

His mood cant always tolerate your rock and shell collecting so takes you to a ship wreck to collect shinier things.

Scares, kills, beats the living shit out of any predator who tries to harm his little human companion

He has his mood swings and the first time you encountered that you didn’t know how to handle him, he ended up hitting you with his tail hurting you in the process

You got hit so hard you thought flew across the Pacific Ocean…(I was being sarcastic on this part😭🤚🏻 y’all in replies are sending me💀💀)

When you swam up badly hurt he followed you realizing what he did and rushed to help, but you were already running out the beach when he got there

Floyd was upset the whole week, you didn’t come back and he was afraid you never will come back ever again.

When you did though he squeezed you (gently) trying not to hurt you even more he kept apologizing and for the rest of the day he was just wrapped up around you not letting you go

Doesn’t ever snap at you when he has his mood swings ever again.

Possessive of you, doesn’t want you to meet others like him cuz he thinks you’d make a lot of friends and leave him behind

“Mine.” “Floyd no.” “Floyd yes.”

A/N: This was fun to make, laughed a lot while writing this. Again…I did not proofread this I never proofread 💀💀 I’m lazy like that

Edit A/N: THX TO THAT REPLY TELLING ME THEY CANT STING OML I’M STUPID😭 I changed it though dw :D