#a battle against myself truly lol ..................

[cerealmonster15]

truly part of why most things i show or whatever r sketchy doodles i did in one sitting is that it is always a race against the clock when im doing something before The Evil takes over and eats me. i get stressed about if i try to actually make something pretty bc i know i cant lol, and if i take too long [staring nervously at the google docs i keep opening and closing] on a fic it's harder to finish bc i start Thinking about it too much and if it's any good or if it's cringe or What Ever

[widevibratobitch]

uh ohhhhhh getting all in my head again aha

[burningcheese-merchant]

Can you do a Yan! Burning Spice x Golden Cheese one-shot?

It's okay if you don't want to.

I was going to save this for a later date (and also direct you to my fics on AO3, there's plenty of Yandere Spice in those lol)... BUT SINCE DEVSISTERS DECIDED TO JUST GO AHEAD AND DUMP SOME QUALITY MATERIAL INTO MY LAP, I'LL TAKE THE COSMIC HINT AND DO IT TODAY! This one's for you, Anon! You can thank that extremely suspicious trailer for this!

"Mine Forever More" - BurningCheese Short Story #5

WARNING: This is one-sided BurningCheese/GoldenSpice, with Obsessive, Possessive, Yandere-esque Burning Spice. This is not like the other wholesome shorts with the budding romance and cute bickering, Burning Spice is a sick and dangerous man in this one. I politely demand that only adults read this one, please and thank you.

Cold... Why is it cold...? Cold and damp... Where...?

Both light and shadow flickered and danced across Golden Cheese's vision as she struggled to remain conscious. She was... being carried. Someone had peeled her off of the ground, plucked her from the blood-soaked dirt in which she lay beaten and broken, and cradled her in their arms as they ventured away from the cliff and off... somewhere. Somewhere... dark. Dark and cold and damp. A far cry from what she'd come to understand this strange place to be.

Someone... No. She knew who it was. She recognized the strong chest her head was being held against. The thick, powerful, tattooed arms enveloping her body, holding her close to his own. Though she couldn't see his face, she nevertheless sensed his fiery eyes staring down at her. Devouring her. Swallowing her whole.

"You disappoint me, little thief," Burning Spice told her. He spoke quietly, with chilling calm; his words were meant for her and no one else. "I expected better from you."

She did not respond. She wouldn't, even if she could. Even if that wretched taste of iron didn't fill her mouth so completely and the skin and flesh of her back weren't on fire.

"I waited for this. For you. For such a long time... You are not weak. You know this, and so do I. Destiny finally arrives for us both... and you choose to turn it away. You devastate me, little thief. Truly."

There was less vitriol in his voice than she imagined there would be. From screaming bloody murder right into her face as she dangled from a cliff, to... murmuring to her with such... disappointment, for lack of a better term. Sadness, even, if she dared to read into it any further. Perhaps she'd underestimated his... investment in their duel, after all.

"You're lucky..." he told her. "You are very lucky I care for you. You were wise to have stolen my heart as well as my Soul Jam all those eons ago. I would have drawn and quartered you otherwise."

"Care... for me?" Her voice came as a pained rasp, rising from an aching throat and forcing itself through bloodied lips. "Stolen... your... what...?"

"Of course I do," Burning Spice said - so simply, as if it was a fundamental truth of the world. "Would I have dedicated so much of myself to you if I did not? To hunting you? To our battle? Do you think you would be here now, safe in my arms as I carry you to your shelter, if I did not care for you?"

"Shelter...?"

At the cost of a worsened migraine, Golden Cheese opened her eyes wider and focused, scanning her surroundings the best she could. Torches hanging on the walls - the only true sources of light, as far as she could tell. A long, dark corridor. Walls of cool, jagged rock, all dyed deep blues and purples and reds. Dark. Cold. Damp.

A cave... No. Worse. A dungeon.

"Of course," Burning Spice said again. "It wouldn't do to leave you by the cliff, now would it?"

"But-" She coughed harshly. Little droplets of blood splattered onto Burning Spice's chest. She felt him tense instantly, his grip on her tightening. He held her up higher, bringer her head closer to his face... and she felt him lean down and... nuzzle his face into her hair...?

"Hush," he murmured. "We're almost there."

She did not hush. "Why..." Another harsh cough. Another tight, instinctive squeeze that accidentally (or was it?) agitated her aching wounds. Something wet and surprisingly soft pressing into her forehead. A gesture she knew of, one meant to be comforting... but how could he give this to her? Why?

"W-why... why didn't you kill me?" she finally managed to get out. "I don't... understand... Not... like you."

"'Not like you'? You claim to know me so well, pretty bird? I'm flattered." She could hear the teasing smile he wore as he spoke. It made her head ache more. "But if that was true, then you would know why I didn't kill you."

She shook her head weakly. He chuckled.

"What would I get out of killing my beloved?" he told her. "You are the woman I've been waiting for. It was you and your image that kept me alive and sane in that prison. That unspoken promise of a great duel, a struggle for power between me and my other half... I am sorely disappointed in your embarrassing loss, my little thief, but not even that is enough to make me want to kill you."

Beloved? Other half? What in the world?

"No... I simply want you, little thief. I wanted our battle. I wanted your eventual defeat. I wanted my Soul Jam... but I want you, too. Desperately."

He was smiling at her. Grinning. Sharp teeth glinting in the torchlight. A starving predator, ogling his captured prey.

"I hunger for you, Golden Cheese," he whispered to her. "I craved you from the moment I laid my eyes upon this pretty face of yours. I waited ages for this moment... for the day we could be together at last." He brought a hand to her pretty face, caressing her cheek with startling gentleness. "And you look so beautiful," he purred. "So stunning, even like this... I can see why they called you 'Your Radiance'."

The words 'Your Radiance' made her suddenly jerk up, eyes wide. "M-my treasures," she stuttered. "My kingdom, my- my p-people- I- I must-"

"Ah ah." The loving hand on her cheek quickly morphed into a punishing one, reaching up and yanking hard on her hair, earning Burning Spice a wince and a soft cry of pain. "No more of that," he growled. "No more of them. No more of your so-called treasures. They're gone. Crumbled to dust. It's time you make peace with that, little bird."

"N-no," she said, turning her head just enough to be able to shoot him a weak glare. "Nonsense. They... they're here. They're mine. I... I'll never let you..."

She paused. Suddenly, her eyes widened again. "Smoked Cheese," she said, her face now frantic. "W-where is he? What did you do- mmph!"

Now that hand was clasped over her mouth, silencing her. Squeezing her face, digging its sharp nails into her cheeks.

"Be quiet," Burning Spice hissed at her. "Your precious little pet is following along behind us, chained up by the spice warriors."

He saw her gaze soften. Felt her shoulders sag, if only the slightest bit. She was relieved.

He hated it.

"Why do you still cling to your little possessions?" he asked. "To these worthless creatures? Those hero friends of yours, where are they now? Where were they, when I took your wings from you? Where were they when your precious kingdom fell? Hm?"

She couldn't answer; not with that large hand still covering her mouth. But the pain and sorrow that briefly flashed in her eyes was answer enough for him.

"I am here," he told her. "I have always been here. Through our Soul Jam in the past, and now standing beside you in the present. In the aftermath of your near-death. Is Smoked Cheese cradling you in his arms while you can't stand on your own? Is Smoked Cheese graciously taking you into his house and home? Is Smoked Cheese willing to look past this act of grand larceny and keep you by his side, for he's come to value you just as much as what you stole from him?"

The visceral hatred that dripped from Smoked Cheese's name made her wince. She tried to lift her head again, aiming to peek over Burning Spice's shoulder and at her old friend - but that hand forced her head back down the moment she did so.

"I will make you see," Burning Spice said. "You're a clever woman. You will understand eventually. None of this matters. None of it! My way is the only way that's fair. That's interesting! You will see it, when I raze this miserable world to the ground."

He stopped walking. He finally pulled his hand away, letting her suck in a breath. The air tasted slightly less stale in this spot. A pale light shone in the corner of her eye- from a hole in the ceiling far above, she eventually saw.

This one beam of light, trapped behind thick, iron bars.

Burning Spice stepped aside and allowed the soldiers behind him to take his place before the cell door. It was open with the swift insertion of a key; the loud, shrill screech that came as it scraped along the ground rang in her ears. She saw Smoked Cheese - hurt, but still alive - being ushered into the cell and forced to the ground wordlessly. His eyes were downcast, his mouth set in a deep, tired frown.

"You look displeased," Burning Spice cooed. "I'm well aware of your high standards, greedy bird, but this nest will have to do for now."

She shot another glare at him. Stronger than the last. Had the sight of her friend invigorated her?

"Don't fret, though," he continued. The corners of his lips curled into a sultry, sinister smile. "It won't always be this way."

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. What he said next nearly stopped her heart.

"When you recover," he whispered, "I'll bring you to my bed."

So hard and frantic was the roar of her pulse in her ears that she hardly even registered when Burning Spice commanded the soldiers to leave. They did so with a bow; and as they disappeared into the shadows, Burning Spice stepped into the cell and knelt down, holding Golden Cheese in his lap.

"Look at me. Hear my words."

Against her better judgment, she did just that.

"When I'm done with you," he said, "I will wipe everything you ever held dear off the face of the earth."

At this, she tensed up (how enticing to his senses it was, to feel her muscles clench in his grasp). She gave him the harshest look she could muster - and he let her do so, offering a look of smug endearment in return.

"You... will not crush MY treasures," she spat out.

He chuckled. "We'll see about that." Then he leaned down and crushed their lips together.

Burning Spice heard a sharp gasp off somewhere beside him; he looked up and saw Smoked Cheese watching them, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Frozen in place, powerless to save his beloved queen. With or without the chains binding him.

Good.

The corners of Burning Spice's mouth once again curled into a dark smile, and he stared right back at the hooded prisoner as he deepened his and Golden Cheese's kiss. The only resistance she offered came in the form of nails digging into his arm and a gasp as he lapped up the blood on her lips and forced his tongue past them, into her warm, sweet mouth. She tasted delicious. Just as he always knew she would.

When he eventually pulled back, a thin rope of bloody saliva still tethered his tongue to hers. How he hated seeing it break when he put enough distance between them... but it was alright. There will be more opportunities. They had so much lost time to make up for, after all.

"Consider that my payment for allowing this worm to live," he said to her, gesturing dismissively at Smoked Cheese. "And know that I will keep tally of every single day that he continues to do so, and celebrate when he no longer does."

At last, he laid her onto the ground. Slowly. Gently. His final act of mercy on her. On his beaten, broken, beloved Soul Jam thief.

"Sleep well, birdie," he said as he rose to his feet. With a quick heel-turn, he was out of the cell and slamming the door shut. Back to the darkness he returned, out of sight of them both.

"Your Majesty!" Smoked Cheese called to her frantically, finally regaining some of his dignity and willpower and rushing towards her. He knelt down beside her, trembling hands hovering just above her shoulders. "Your Majesty, speak to me!"

She did not. She was beginning to struggle to even parse his words. Exhaustion was taking hold of her at long last.

"What was that?! Why- why did he do that to you?! What nonsense is all of this?!"

She used the last of her strength to grasp at her headdress - at her Soul Jam. Gone. The headdress felt dull and cold. The socket was long empty. When had Burning Spice taken it? How could she have not noticed?

"Your Majesty, you must stay awake. We need to plan our escape. The Beast has gotten hold of the Soul Jam, we must take it back immediately!"

The room looked foggy. Smoked Cheese's features blurred. The light shining down on them began to dim.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty! Golden Cheese!"

The pain and exhaustion became too much, and Golden Cheese's eyes closed, her mind giving way to dizzying blackness.

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

Burning Spice threatened to kill Golden Cheese in front of him if Smoked Cheese made the slightest noise while they journeyed to the prison cell. He was bluffing, of course; he'd never allow his precious golden thief to die. But Smoked Cheese didn't know that. Nor did he need to.

[mothwingwritings]

Basic Maintenance

F!Reader X Jack Hanma

Hello everyone! Back at it with a new (maybe old, as I started this forever ago lol) Jack piece! I suppose you could call this a personal piece, I began it purely as a way to vent as I myself REALLY fucking hate going to the gynecologist and I had a pending appointment at the time. So as any sane person would do when faced with having to do something they despise, I wrote this to cope! Who wouldn’t recreate a moment in time you despise, embellished to be much worse than it actually was by starring your favorite fictional characters being horrible so you can live out the whole ordeal all over again but ~sexier~?

Anyway, here it is! Hope you enjoy it!

No explicit sex, but due to the subject material this fic is 18+ please!

Warnings: LOTS of genitalia talk in this one, readers vag is truly the star of the show here. Also heavy talk about doctors and medical procedures, specifically a pap smear, so if that icks you please be mindful! Also within is noncon mentions/past noncon, unhealthy relationships, yandere themes, kidnapped reader, abused reader, spicy reader (you have a bit of a tude in this but honestly its warranted), some language.

“Do you really have to be in here for this?”

Your irritation grew as you glowered at the man leaning nonchalantly in the corner, looking completely at ease as his back rested against the sterile wall of the doctor’s office. Maybe ‘hunched’ was a more suitable way to describe his posture, his mass taking up so much space that his head grazed the ceiling of the compact room, forcing him into an unnatural position. Jack’s face was impassive, eyes tightly closed as his arms crossed loosely over his chest, waiting patiently with you for the doctor’s arrival. He was so still that if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he had fallen asleep.

“Yes,” came his gruff reply, bronze eyes cracking open to lock on to yours, “Now stop asking. It will be over soon.”

You sighed heavily, kicking your feet lazily as they dangled off the medical bench. It was a battle you had lost before it even began, but that wasn’t going to stop you from voicing your complaints. Jack let you be alone for all your other medical appointments, so you didn’t understand why this one needed to be any different.

You were naked save for the baggy, dusty pink, medical gown that had been left for you to change into. While Jack had insisted on being in the room when you changed, he had shockingly granted you privacy while putting it on, turning his large body away the entire time you were undressed. It wasn’t as if you had anything left to hide from him (your nude form was something he had witnessed countless times before), but you had mentioned offhandedly that there was something particularly irksome about his unwavering stare in the confines of a hospital room, a place that was supposed to be private and confidential, that upset you-especially when you had to undress. He must have actually taken those words in to consideration, which was honestly more than you could have hoped for.

You grimaced when you accidentally rammed your fidgety legs into the unfolded feet stirrups that were lying in wait. Though it hurt you made no noise, only frowning at the uncomfortable reminder of the procedure that would be momentarily taking place. Glancing over at Jack amplified the pain, and you wished that at the very least he would grant you privacy for the intrusive process that was about to take place. But wishing amounted to nothing, and so you were left waiting in a heavy silence with Jack not too far off, the pit in your stomach threatening to swallow you whole.

The entirety of your life had become monitored by Jack, his ever present watchful eye making sure you were following the stringent rules he had set in place to keep you ‘safe.’ Safe from what you didn’t know, as you felt like little more than a prisoner the entire time you were in his care, locked in captivity with no means of interacting with the outside world other than what Jack deemed fit. Unsurprisingly, this turned out to be barely, if any, interaction at all. Due to this, your days had become a blur, each one resembling the next, melding into a mass of uniform discontent and boredom. All you had was Jack and the walls in which he had encapsulated you, all you had to look forward to was the hope that each day would somehow be a little less abysmal than the last.

However you had learned quickly that voicing too many complaints would only make things worse for you, leaving you to bite the bullet time and again in an effort to not set off this tyrant. If Jack was satiated, at least that meant you could achieve some normalcy in your daily life, even if it was just a crumb. Sacrificing your happiness and free-will had become the price you must pay to retain your sanity, to survive.

And now here you were, on one of his many forced check-ups that were scheduled far more frequently than was actually necessary. Your health had become his obsession, which you found rather peculiar given how much he seemed to disregard his own. Regardless, making sure you were fit and well was very important to him, much more so than looking after his own body. He poured himself into your maintenance with the gusto of a man whose life passion was fixing up old cars, making sure you were fine-tuned and running as you should, looking as pretty on the inside as the outside, it quickly became one of his greatest passions. After all, what was he to do if the love of his life fell ill with some mysterious wasting disease or ended up getting severely hurt? He refused to even entertain the thought of anything that could potentially end your life, and thus started going above and beyond to make sure you would be stuck with him for a very long time.

In all honesty, you usually didn’t mind the abundant health checks that much. It was a chance to get out of that god forsaken apartment he cooped you up in, and better yet, it offered rare moments where you could talk with other human beings without having Jack’s immense presence lingering over your shoulder.

But today was different. Today was the first time that you would be seen for something besides your normal check-up, instead partaking in a different kind of examination, one that was a bit more intimate than all the others previous.

Now that the two of you were sexually active (regardless of if that was something you had wanted and/or agreed to or not), Jack found it prudent that you start getting checkups that catered to those sexual proclivities. Thus, he wasted no time in setting up your first gynecological visit since he had taken you in, pleased with himself that he had the foresight to cover all of your medical bases. You guessed this new sudden fixation was his attempt to show you that in his own way he cared, that he wanted to do all he could to make sure you were healthy in every way you could be. But you also knew it was equally important to him to keep you in good physical condition from all the brutal fucking he had done to you, as you needed to be in one piece for when he continued to mercilessly ravage you in the future.

How thoughtful.

And when it came down to anything medical, Doctor Kureha seemed to be the only one Jack entrusted you with. It made sense to an extent, while Jack normally despised anyone but himself being in your presence, he was particularly adverse to people he didn’t already know. This went doubly for medical professionals that could very well be holding your life in their hands, he’d die before he let some unknown quack even breath in your general vicinity, let alone touch you.

But he knew Kureha and could personally vouch for his medical expertise, so in that regard making him your primary care physician was a no brainer. Deeper still, he could trust Kureha to not air his dirty laundry. The alarming signs of Jack’s passion that riddled your body would be a major red flag for any medical professional that saw them, and any outsider that spotted them would surely start asking questions the moment they laid eyes upon them. Only Kureha could be trusted to keep them mum, it was guaranteed. After all, if the good doctor even so much as made a suggestive comment to another person about the state you were in, Jack had more than enough dirt on the man to swiftly and efficiently end his career (and the muscle power to end his life, should it come to that).

Even with the questionable foundation of your relationship, you truly liked Kureha. You’d even go so far as to say that you considered him a friend, or at least as close to a friend as you can have under Jack’s suffocating surveillance. While going to a doctor’s office for any reason wasn’t particularly fun, you couldn’t help but begin to view the hospital where he worked as an oasis of sorts. It was clean, quiet, and within its glaringly white walls you could almost forget the nightmare your life had become, getting lost in the aseptic-ness of it all.

Kureha made pleasant company as well. You were weary of him at first, as it was hard not to be leery of any person Jack introduced to you. The fact that Jack willingly initiated an interaction between you and one of his associates was suspicious in and of itself, as prior to meeting Kureha he had never made any attempt to tell you about his friends, family, or anyone else that may be in his life.

When he explained that the person he wanted you to meet was a doctor, a specific image came to mind. Maybe they would be an older man, graying hair, kindly and smart. Picturing the mystery man as a fatherly type of figure made your heart hurt a bit, yearning for your own family that you had long since been exempt from seeing. These feelings also made you a bit eager to meet him, hoping to find comfort or camaraderie in this other person’s potentially trustworthy presence.

You certainly were not expecting the Adonis of a man who ended up greeting you.

The thing you recalled the most from your initial meeting with Kureha was how off-putting it was. His well-built, stocky body stood before you with an outstretched hand, his chiseled face framed in lusciously flowing auburn locks as his pouty, full lips offered a casual greeting. The polite smile that lit his criminally pretty face clashed heavily with the image you had pictured in your head, causing a brief moment of whiplash that left you speechless. The conflict between imagined and factual was so jarring in fact, that you nearly laughed out loud the moment you saw him, his strange presentation making you feel like you had wound up as the female lead of some kind of prime-time doctor drama. Appearance aside however, he was calm and mature, speaking to you like the intelligent adult you actually were, which was a breath of fresh air from the dismissive and childish treatment you typically received from Jack. Being in the presence of someone who treated you as an independent human had become a foreign feeling, but a welcome and celebrated one nonetheless.

As time passed and your visits to him grew more frequent, you began to see why Jack relied on Kureha so much. The doctor wasn’t just a pretty face, his medical prowess truly was top notch and he did an excellent job helping you monitor your health and kept you in good shape. His guidance and diagnosis were always spot on and easy to understand, and he had a way with words that made you comprehend his medical jargon without leaving you feeling like a dummy. It was by far the best medical assistance you had ever received, and you decided that should you one day be magically rid of Jack’s influence, it would be worth it to still seek out Kureha for any pending health concerns, even if it meant risking running into your brute of a captor.

But Doctor Kureha was not a gynecologist, and above all, he was a man. Why Jack, someone who was so painstakingly territorial of you, would pick a male to do this particular task was lost to you. Every OBGYN you had visited in the past had been a female doctor, and you honestly sort of preferred it that way. And though you voiced this to Jack, he remained adamant that since Kureha was already aware of your medical history, he was more than capable of taking care of this as well.

A nagging voice inside your brain kept telling you the REAL reason he was so bent on Kureha doing this procedure was to negate the risk it involved. Even if Kureha brought in another doctor who had reproductive health as their area of expertise, a doctor Kureha himself could vouch for that would keep their mouth shut, it was just too precarious of a situation for Jack’s liking. Any outside source that got up close and personal with your most abused area would realize instantly what Jack had been subjugating you to and their conscious could compel them to do something. The last thing Jack wanted was someone trying to play hero, and since Kureha had already seen the rest of the damage on your body and not said a word, it meant he was just as likely to stay silent when encountering the extent of defilement that had been inflicted on your more private areas.

You figured Jack and Kureha had some form of agreement between the two of them, that no matter how battered you came in to his office, nothing would be reported. You were not privy to the details of this agreement, nor did you know how formal it was. All you knew was that Kureha was always there to patch you up, keep you together, and offer a kind word or two, but he never made a move to try and remove you from the situation. No matter how perilous the aftermath appeared or how much your friendship progressed, he stayed in his lane and turned a blind eye to what mattered most.

So while you appreciated Kureha, you also realized you could never fully trust him.

“Well here we are again.”

Kureha’s entrance tore you from your thoughts, your eyes instantly darting to the stately man as he closed the door softly behind him. Looking as immaculate as ever, Kureha greeted Jack with a small nod before turning to you with a smile, which you reciprocated in kind. You couldn’t help but note the small scowl that sat upon Jacks lips, no doubt brought on by the familiarity the two of you shared.

“It’s good to see you again (Name),” he spoke as he made his way over to the seat beside you, waking up his computer so that he could access your medical records. “How long has it been? At least two days? That must be a new record.”

“Very funny,” Jack cut in, completely unamused by Kureha’s light teasing. He straightened his posture as much as the small room would allow, shooting the doctor a wry look. “We came here for a procedure, not your quips.”

Kureha sighed, “Of course, forgive me for trying to lighten the mood.” Turning his attentions back your way, he gave you another smile, “’Quips’ aside, how have you been feeling (name)? It really hasn’t been that long since our last appointment, was there anything particular that sparked the need for this visit today, or…?”

His voice trailed off, as he was already well aware this meeting was most likely not of your own choosing, but another of Jack’s heavy handed assertions. You squirmed on the medical chair, the protective paper beneath your rear irritating the bare flesh it came in contact with.

Before you could open your mouth to respond, Jack spoke on your behalf.

“She is fine,” his words were clipped and to the point, “As stated, we came here for a simple procedure as part of a routine check-up. I think we would both appreciate it if you just got on with it.”

“Yes, I am sure you would,” Kureha scoffed, slight irritation reflected in his voice, “But I was not addressing you Jack, I was asking (Name). And contrary to your beliefs, she will have a more accurate synapsis of what is going on with her own body than you will.”

Jack huffed, puffing up his chest in indignation. But he remained silent, promptly shut up by Kureha’s firm statement. For that alone you could kiss him.

“I’m feeling alright,” you respond simply, “the same as always, more or less... I don’t mean to be rude Dr. Shinogi, but this time Jack is right. I am kind of in a hurry to get this over with.” You frowned, repositioning yourself on the crinkly paper seat once more. “These kinds of visits aren’t my favorite.”

A blush crept on your cheeks as you spoke the words, embarrassed by your own admission. As if this whole ordeal wasn’t invasive enough, you also couldn’t avoid the fact that this was one of your least favorite medical procedures of all time.  Spreading yourself open for the whole world to see, perched on an uncomfortable chair while you awkwardly draped yourself across its stiff foamy surface, feet held back in stirrups as a doctor scraped away at your insides haphazardly, none of it was an enjoyable experience for you. The mere thought made you want to clamp your legs shut and scuttle out of the office, bee lining it straight back to the train station. You never thought you would long for the solitude of Jacks stuffy abode, but there was a first time for everything.

It also didn’t help that Jack refused to budge, adamant he stick around for the whole procedure. Knowing that he would be in the room, looming in the background as he bore witness to the whole excruciating ordeal, just made it THAT much worse.

Kureha acknowledged you with a hum, “Well if it’s any reassurance, I plan to make this as painless and as quick as possible. I can’t imagine that any of this is particularly pleasant for you, so I can understand where your reservations are coming from.”

He turned to Jack, shooting him a knowing look, “And though I am beyond confident in my doctoral abilities, I would like to remind the intrusive party in this room that this particular request is not my area of expertise. I will be efficient and gentle with miss (Name), but I may lack the accuracy of an expert in the field. Disclaimer aside, I would appreciate it if back seat commentary is kept to a minimum.”

“As long as you don’t waste any time and do the job well, you won’t be giving me a reason to voice any complaints,” Jack’s clipped voice threatened, “Now, can we begin please?”

Kureha’s eyes met yours, “Whenever you are ready, place our feet in the stirrups. We’ll proceed from there.”

Taking a deep breath to ground yourself, your shaky legs parted, granting Kureha access so that the procedure could begin. His large hands guided your legs into the holsters with ease, and he shot you one last reassuring smile before he grabbed his tools.

“I’d offer you a blanket for some privacy,” Kureha’s kept his voice low to keep the conversation between the two of you, “But our guest made it abundantly clear that he wanted to see what I am doing at all times. I apologize.”

You gave a curt nod, acknowledging his apology as earnest, but also realizing the good doctor had done nothing but enable Jack’s uncouth behavior this entire time. Not that it mattered at this point, all you could pray was that he at least remained true to his promise of speed and efficiency.

“Just hurry up. Please.”

With no further prodding, Kureha set to work. You cringed as you felt cold steel begin to spread you, your discomfort mounting when his tools entered shortly after. Jack pushed himself off the wall, stepping closer so that he could get a better view of what was being done to your body. Bending down so he could monitor Kureha’s actions accordingly, you squeezed your eyes tightly closed, refusing to add Jack’s beady, unwavering stare to your torment.

As warned, Kureha was not as skilled in this field as you would have liked. His typically nimble fingers seemed to fumble with the tools in hand, the prodding and clawing at your delicate insides causing tears to spring to your eyes. In an effort to keep from crying out you bit into your bottom lip, gnawing at the reddened flesh to quiet yourself. However squeaks of discomfort still managed to slip from your throat, sharp intakes of breath punctuating his hasty motions. Sweaty fists balled around the gaudy surgical gown, tugging it so roughly you could feel the fabric give under the strain. A particularly rough jerk of Kureha’s hand sent a wave of pain through you, your whimpers becoming a full on groan. Reflexively your legs tried to snap shut, your body subconsciously trying to push itself as far from the doctor as you could get, inching up the table in an effort to escape.

“You’re hurting her.

Jack’s growl cut through the air, an edge to it warning Kureha to watch himself. Kureha clicked his tongue, shooting a quick look over his shoulder.

“I wasn’t joking about the back seat commentary,” he retorted, “I’m aware of her irritation, hence why I am moving as fast as I can. I would advise against distracting me further to make the process as easy as possible for her,” he sighed deeply, fixing his attention back your way, “Besides, from the looks of things down here it’s clear she has suffered worse. I would even hazard the reason it hurts her so bad right now is in no small part your fault.”

Jack snarled, intense anger radiating from his presence as he leered over the doctor. It was obvious Kureha’s words had cut deep, the unspoken rule that he never judge Jack’s actions easily broken by his barbed statement. Finally turning your attention to Jack, you grimaced as your squinting eyes watched him open his mouth, primed to release a fiery retort.

“I’m fine,” your sharp voice interrupted their banter, words strained as they were forced from your clenched jaw, “Please, please, just hurry up.”

Kureha’s expression shifted, a softer look flitting across his features as your plea dragged him back to the matter at hand, “I apologize (Name), that was childish way to respond, please forgive me. We are nearly done. Please just hang in there a moment longer.”

True to his words, after a few quick swipes (all of which when executed brought about varying degrees of soreness), the procedure concluded.  You had never been happier to close your legs in your entire life (and given your life’s circumstances, that was saying something).

“And we’re done,” Kureha exhaled, quickly clearing his tools away. He shot you a quick smile as he got to his feet, “You did very well, (Name). I’m sorry my touch wasn’t the softest this go-around, but I appreciate what a good sport you were through the entire procedure. You may bleed for a bit afterwards, which is quite normal. Though it may be hard for the two of you, try and lay off any strenuous activity to the area for at least a day or two, alright?”

A bright blush illuminated your cheeks the moment the words left his lips. Whether he meant them to be or not, they felt mocking and derisive, and hearing them left you feeling as if you were both an ill-tempered child who no one expected to make it through such a procedure with so little fuss, and some manner of sex-crazed harlot that couldn’t go a day without getting any.

“You sure love to talk, don’t you?” Jacks gruff voice chided, making it apparent that Kureha’s loaded words still bothered him. The air between the two of them remained charged with a bristling, negative energy, but with the ordeal finally over with, Jack’s rage was slightly beginning to subside. No doubt he was just pleased that he could finally take you home and have you all to himself. “Are you such an accusatory smartass to all your patients?”

“Just the ones I really like,” Kureha shot him a smug grin, causing Jack’s jaw to clench, “but I am serious. Definitely no sexual activity tonight and tomorrow as well, if you can stand it.”

Kureha reached out his hand, placing it firmly atop your head, giving it a small scrub. “And I mean it when I said you did well. I couldn’t have asked for a better patient! If I had a lollipop or something to give you right now to congratulate you, I most certainly would.”

He laughed at his own joke, but the sound of it only caused your ego to suffer more.

Curling in on yourself to hide your vulnerable state, you shook your head to dispel Kureha’s unwanted attention. Your words came out icy as you shot the two men an equally chilling look. “I don’t need hollow praise, I just need some privacy so I can change back into my normal clothes.” When both men refused to budge, instead staring at you blankly with wide eyes suggesting your frosty demeanor shocked them, you sighed in annoyance, “Please?”

Kureha was the first to comply, turning on his heel to briskly head towards the exit. On his way out, he motioned towards jack, signaling him to follow. “Come on Jack, it’s rude to make a lady beg.”

Jack hesitated a moment before following suit, his hulking form stopping momentarily in the door way to address you one final time.

“Just be quick about it. I want to get you out of here and back home as quickly as possible.”

Hopping to your feet, you made your way over to your rumpled clothing that sat discarded on one of the uninviting metal waiting room chairs. You rolled your eyes as you snatched them up, impatiently waiting for Jack to step away so you could finally get out of the thin gown that covered you.

“You and me both,” you murmured under your breath, stuffing your lower half into your pants as fast as physically possible, “If I never have to go through this again, it would be too soon.”

~

You were thankful that the train was nearly empty when you boarded it, making it easy to find a space in the back that was far removed from other passengers. Though you would typically revel in this opportunity to be amongst other people, right now the only thing you wanted was to be left alone.

The office was not terribly far from where you lived, so Jack usually opted to walk to the hospital instead of taking any transport. But today’s trip had worn you out and left you feeling sore and irritable, so while  he wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of public transportation (too many eyes on you he’d say, even though it was his stature that drew the true attention), in an act of mercy he offered the train as a means of getting home. Of course he had offered to just carry you home first, but the look you gave him at the suggestion was enough to wise him up, bringing up the train as a happy alternative. Thankful to finally have a place to sit and enjoy some quiet for a moment, the tension in your body began to lessen, and you felt as if at least momentarily you could begin to relax.

… At least, you wished you could relax. Jack’s towering form, which was already a suffocating presence in and of itself, was even more smothering as he sat directly beside you. You were wedged in between him and the window, his broad shoulders and spread legs cramping your already limited space. If his bouncing leg and repeated exhales weren’t enough of a giveaway that something was bothering him, the muscled arms petulantly crossed over his chest and a deep set scowl on his face as he shot you numerous hurried glances really brought the fact home.

At first you tried to ignore him, but as the minutes ticked by it became clear to you he wasn’t going to bring up the issue himself, nor was he going to drop the matter and leave you be. This left you with no other choice besides confrontation.

“What is it,” the irritation was clear in your voice as you questioned him. “This whole adventure was your idea, and now it’s bothering you? If you hated the outcome so much, why make me go?”

“I didn’t hate the outcome,” he responded, shifting a bit in his seat as he cleared his throat, “It was a necessary procedure and I am glad we had it done. I’m pleased that you seem more or less healthy down there.”

You scoffed at Jack’s interpretation of Kureha’s assessment of the damage his ‘love’ had done to your body, a reaction he chose to ignore as he continued, “But still, I guess maybe I did have my concerns.”

“…Concerns?”

 You perked up, taken aback by his words. The way he spoke them sounded borderline remorseful,  as if being faced with the irrefutable proof of how violently he has treated you, witnessing firsthand the lasting injury his careless assaults have caused and the suffering that has come with it, began to open his eyes. Could he finally be feeling remorse? Could this day of suffering and embarrassment truly have ended up having such a silver lining?

Several agonizing seconds passed as you hung on baited breath, excited for the first time in a long time to hear what Jack had to say.

“It’s just…” His voice trailed off for moment, his expression contorting in a display of varying emotions, musing over how to word his response. After another brief moment of silence he continued with a sigh, tripping over his tense words awkwardly, as if he were embarrassed to speak them.

“It’s just that when he was working on you … Well, the expressions you made when he was going inside of you… They were the same ones you sometimes make when we are making love, so I was concerned maybe you were, you know… enjoying it.”

As you noted the barely perceptible blush that flushed Jacks cheeks throughout his explanation, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Internally screaming, you chided yourself. What a fool you were, thinking you may actually be receiving an honest apology from this man.

Anger began to creep over you, causing your body to slightly quake. You grimaced as his words stewed in your head, the absurdity of his misconception causing your world to spin. Of course you would be making the same expression when he fucked you as you did at the doctors office- the extreme and unwanted discomfort from either act was one in the same. Only an idiot like Jack would come to the conclusion that your face was contorted in a look of ecstasy instead of the agony you were actually experiencing, lying there spread eagle on the doctors table while you were being chiseled away at.

“No Jack,” you spat at him, seething words to match the daggers shooting from your eyes, “I did not fucking get off at my gyno appointment when Kureha was shoving clamps and other utensils up inside my body, picking away at my innards so he could get tissue samples. Sorry to let you down, but it wasn’t really my idea of a sexy encounter, asshole.”

As you were about to boil over with barely contained rage, you mirrored Jack by crossing your arms, doing your best to hold yourself together as you averted your gaze from him. Keeping things civil was tremendously hard, but you were smart enough to realize causing a scene in public would in no way help you right now.

After several moments of silence had passed, your eyes flicked to Jack’s reflection in the mirror, hoping to gauge his emotional state after your tempestuous outburst. He typically didn’t take kindly to your attitude, especially when it was coupled with name calling. Surely the venom you spewed wouldn’t be taken sitting down, and while the thought of an angry Jack usually terrified you, today you couldn’t make yourself care. In fact, you hoped your small tantrum HAD upset him, wanting him to feel a smidge of the pain he forced you through daily. You may not be able to ever harm Jack physically, but if there was one thing you did have power over, it was his feelings. Despite his tough persona, you were acutely aware that any malice you directed his way wounded him, causing him more grief than he would ever willingly state. And you suspected that this display of your lividity was the perfect attack to take him down a few pegs.

But surprise took you when your eyes landed on his likeness, seeing that instead of an angry glower or wounded frown, a content smile sat upon his lips. His tensed shoulders had relaxed, his entire posture now much more poised and at ease as he sat next to you. He even lazily draped an arm over the back of your seat, his fingers idily stretching out to play with any rogue strands of your hair they brushed against.

“Good,” he spoke pleasantly, “Glad to know I have nothing to worry about. I’ll just have to work harder next time to make you really lose yourself, so you can show me expressions only I will ever see. That way there will be no confusion in the future.”

Your frown deepened as the shit eating grin spreading across his lips grew. It seemed that this time, as always, Jack had won.

“Of course we’ll have to wait a day or two for me to hone my skill, which is unfortunate. But look at the bright side baby, gives me time to come up with some new ideas that will really drive you wild, right?”

God you hated him.

[samwinchesterswifu]

Linger pt 2 (Sam Winchester x Reader Angst) (Dean Winchester x Reader Smut)

Season 4 x Episode 22 - Lucifer Rising

Song Inspo: "Linger" by The Cranberries & "Magic Man" by Heart

Warnings: uh smut, p in v (wrap it up), uhm really fucking emotional? Uses of she/her prounouns and women body parts <3

MINORS DNI

A/N: holy. fucking. shit. this is my LONGEST fan fic EVER. im so damn proud of myself. Only took me 2 days to write. Now this isnt an exact episode re-write but there are like 3 scenes from the episode in here and I tried to change up the dialog a little bit so it wasnt exactly copy paste. I truly do love this story. please dont be mad at me lol. but uh yeah more than likely pt 3 coming soon.

Word Count: 3.767k

Summary: Sam goes off with Ruby to stop the seals from breaking, what can she do in the mean time?

She sits on the edge of  Bobby’s couch. Her left foot tapping away as she begins to chew her fingers in anticipation. Dean had found him, and instead of her coming along with him, Dean felt it was best for her to stay behind incase things got out of control. The old farm house was deafeningly quiet. Bobby had gone off to calm down after recovering from the shot-gun hit, leaving her alone. It must’ve been around two, or three am but she didn’t care. Sleep was a second thought. What felt like years swimming in her own personal hell, the familiar roar of the Impala pulls into the graveled drive finally separating from her thoughts. She rises from her position and makes her way outside. As she opens the door, Dean is climbing out of the Impala. A serge of panic rises through her once seeing his beat up face. She races down the steps grabbing onto his chin to inspect. Dean groans at the contact.

“What the hell happened?” She asked sternly.

“We got into it.” Dean states rolling his eyes as she continued to examine.

“No shit,” she replies, a snicker sharp on her tongue.

 Dean grabs a hold of her wrist stopping her from further jerking his head back and forth. He sighs and locks eyes with her.

“What Dean?” She asks bluntly annoyed by his grasp.

“He was with Ruby.” Dean states as his eyes shift to an apologetic glow underneath the tall street light that loomed over them.

“Figures,” she scoffs, breaking away from Dean’s grip.

She takes a step back from him, wiping her palms against the rough fabric of her jeans.

“I told him not to come back.” Dean spats out.

Her head shoots up to look at him.

“You did WHAT?” She exclaims. Her fists clench, wanting so badly to add to the poor guys face.

“You heard me.” Dean states, arms crossing over his chest.

“You can’t just make that decision for the both of us!” She screams, and pushes him sharply, enough for him to stumble.

“Well I did! You listen to me, he’s not good for you, I’m so sick and tired of watching you be drunk off him when all he does is treat you like shit!” Dean yells at her. Leaving her completely dumbfounded.

“And what gives you the fucking authority to make that decision for me huh?” She raises her voice to match his, stepping toe-to-toe, staring him down.

In a split second, Dean’s hands where cuffing her cheeks and he brings her in for a searing kiss. His lips where sweet but salty, the faint taste of copper mixing in, presumably from the cut on his bottom lip. After a few seconds, she realizes that she was in fact kissing Dean and pulls away. Her hands rested on his shoulders. She looks at him completely shocked. But deep down, she liked it. It was nice to finally have some sort of human connection. At this point, she wasn’t sure if Sam would ever be back in her life and if he would love her enough to be with her. Weighing her options, she reconnects her lips to Deans.

They battle for dominance, teeth clashing as she plays with the hair on the nape of his neck. Dean groans as she tugs on his strands. His sounds leaving her breathless and needy. Dean breaks contact and begins to travel kisses across her cheek, and down her neck. Nibbling harshly at a spot below her ear that made her squirm. His hands traveled down her sides and he taps the curve underneath her ass. Realizing his signal, she jumps. Wrapping her legs tightly against his waist as he holds her steady. Dean reconnects their lips as he begins to walk. But not towards the house. She breaks contact for a brief moment to see where he was headed. He was headed towards the shop.

She locks eyes with Dean. Her gut screaming about whether or not this was the right decision. In this moment, she truly didn’t care. In this moment, Dean seemed like the perfect treat. His features shined against the moonlight and his green eyes were electrified. Her head was spinning by the power Dean seemed to hold at this moment. Maybe, just maybe, Dean could take care of her, treat her right. And that maybe was what she held on to.

She reconnects their lips as they enter the shop. Dean holds her with one arm as he pushes the shop door partially closed. Never once breaking their kiss. He walks her over to shop couch, pushing off the blanket that laid on the seat and some wrenches. They break away as he lays her down. Quickly discarding his shirt on the floor in the process. She does the same and Dean just stares at her.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Taking in her glow. Bobby had left on one of the lamps that were hanging over one of the current cars on the jacks. It was just enough light for them to see each other.

Dean dips down, pulling her breast into his mouth. His mouth was warm and inviting. Moaning at the contact that she didn’t even know she craved. His right hand engulfed her right breast as his tongue played with her left nipple. She squirms against him as soft mewls of pleasure leave her lips. After he seems satisfied with himself, he leans back from her chest. Dean toys with the button of her jeans, after struggling for a bit, he pulls them off gracefully. Groaning at the sight in front of him.

“I don’t know how anyone can pass you up,” he says licking his lips.

A deep blush forms across her cheeks. Its been so long hearing any sort of praise and her soul was being replenished.

As Dean starts to fumble with his belt, she reaches up to help him. Unzipping his jeans, she pushes down his boxers to find him fully erect. She expected Dean to have some length to him, but fuck was he girthy. She wraps her hand around him, slowly pumping. Dean dips his head back in pleasure. She picks up her pace, wiping the pre-cum from his tip to help with the friction. A moan leaves Dean’s lips as she does this and the heat in her core becomes unbearable. She stops, and Dean looks at her completely blissed out from just the slightest touch.

Dean looks at her as if to ask she was okay with this, and if she was ready. She nods and Dean takes a quick moment to kick off his jeans. He places himself back in between her legs and pushes aside her underwear. Dean grabs on to her hips and aligns himself with her. She grabs onto his bicep as he begins to push inside. Both of them seething at the contact. Her grip tightens as he stretches her earning a groan from the man. Dean is slow with it, inching closer and closer until he was completely inside. Both of them moaning at the feeling. She felt so full that it was making her dizzy.

Once allowing her a few moments to adjust to his length, Dean unleashes a brutal attack. His thrust start off fast and hard. Her moans fill up the shop and she prayed that no one was outside to hear her. Dean was a god, he moved exactly the right away and kept his pace steadily. Her first orgasm came within minutes. The second one falling behind shortly after.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking, goo-“ Dean grunts. Being cut off with his own thrust.

The opposite hand from holding himself steady rose and grasped around her throat. This fucking man knew how to choke someone. The pressure from his grasp makes her third orgasm more violent than the first. Her moans turned into screams as he just continued on his attack.  A fourth and fifth orgasm rippled through her bones. Her eyes swelled with tears at the immense amount of pleasure she was being supplied.

However, Dean’s thrust became more and more unstable. He was close and she wanted to milk every last drop out of him.

“Cum in me, please,” she grasps out in between moans.

Dean looks at her bewildered by her request but nods.

“Okay, okay, fuck-“ Dean thrusts a few more times before he fills her up completely. His orgasm bringing on her final one at the same time.

Both of them sit there for a moment, Dean was still inside of her as they catch their breaths. Their eyes lock for a moment and both let out a small laugh. Dean slowly pulls out of her, both moaning at the loss of contact. Dean takes a moment before grabbing his and her pants from the floor tossing them to her. Slipping them on, she grabs her discarded shirt and throws it back on as Dean does the same. She was completely wiped by this point. She yawns, and Dean takes note of it. Grabbing the shop blanket that was thrown about, he motions behind her. Surprised by his actions, she allows Dean to settle behind her as he throws the shop blanket across them. He stretches out his right arm to allow her to use it as a pillow as his left arm lays across her waist. She snuggles close to him and starts to drift to sleep feeling protected.

The morning sun peaks through the crack of the shop door, shining just right to stir her from slumber. She blinks her eyes open, looking around to figure out her surroundings as last night’s memories play back. She notices that Dean was no longer behind her and no where in the shop to be found. She sighs, tossing the shop blanket to the side and makes her way back towards the house, seeing Bobby’s car back in the drive. She groans at the thought of having to explain herself to Bobby. But as she gets closer to the house she can hear yelling from inside.

“Don’t make me get my gun boy,” Bobby’s voice of retribution laces through the hallways as she makes her way inside. It was unsettling to hear Bobby stern.

“We are damn near kick off for Armageddon, don’t you think we got bigger fish to fry?” she can hear Dean state from the living room as she makes her presence known. Both men looking towards her as she does so.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bobby asks sternly, arms crossing over his chest.

“I, uh-“ she stutters, pointing towards the door, unsure of how to explain she fell asleep in the shop.

Dean looks up at her innocently, shaking his head as if to say to not say a damn word.

“Never mind.” Bobby huffs.

She gulps, her throat stuffed with anxiety.

“I know you’re pissed, and I’m not making apologies for what he’s done, but he’s your-“

“Blood? He’s my blood, is that what you’re gunna say?” Dean cuts Bobby and he sighs in response.

“He’s your brother.” Bobby states,

“And he’s drowning,” the old man sighs looking between the both of them. Nodding his head towards Dean’s direction to try to get her to weigh in on the situation.

“Maybe Bobbys right Dean, he needs our help.” She chimes in, a groan leaving Dean’s lips at her response.

“I tried to help him Y/N, I already did.” Dean replies.

“So try again.” Bobby rebuttals. However he takes notes of how uneasy Dean had became once she entered the house.

“Did something happen between you two?” Bobby asks, looking at Dean. Dean shoots her a panicked look as Bobby shoots a glare towards her.

“No, no- we’re fine,” she comments. Bobby makes a soft “uh huh” under his breath clearly not believing them.

“it’s too late-“ Dean states as he strides towards the stair case.

“There’s no such thing,” Bobby says trying any way he can to get Dean to calm down.

“No, damn it!” Dean shouts. He was evidently annoyed by this whole conversation.

“No.” He sighs, the man was stubborn  she’d give him that.

“Look, we got to face the facts. Sam never wanted to be apart of this family. He hated our life growing up. Ran away to school first chance he got. Now it’s like Déjà VU all over again.” Dean shifts on the edge of his heels as he leans down to sit on the couch behind him.

“Well I am sick and tired of chasing after him, you should be too.” Dean pauses, point directly at her.

“Screw him, he can do what he wants.” Dean sneers.

“You don’t mean that-“ Bobby starts before getting cut off again by Dean.

“Yes I do Bobby,” he sighs. “Sammy’s gone.”

“I’m not even sure if he’s still my brother anymore. If ever was,” Dean’s voice cracks at the pain. A deep look forms over his eyes, a sad one. It hurt her to see him so distraught over Sam, because she was too.

Bobby pushes himself off his desk, pacing back and forth before suddenly throwing everything off of it.

“You stupid, stupid son of a bitch!” Bobby yells and Dean rises to meet him. She backs away from them honestly a bit scared from the interaction.

“Well boohoo! I am so sorry your feelings are hurt princess! Are you under the impression that family supposed to make you feel good? Bake you an apple pie maybe? They’re supposed to make you miserable! That’s why they’re family!” Bobby screams, stomping his foot in frustration.

“I told him that if he walked out that door to not come back, and that’s what he did Bobby!” Dean yells back, walking past him as his fist clenches.

“You sound like a brat-“ Bobby mocking in his response.

“No,” Dean whispers coming near her, and his back facing Bobby. Unsure of how to comfort him in the moment.

“You sound like John. Well let me tell you something, John was a coward.” Bobby states.

“You are a better man than your daddy ever was.” Bobby replies, Dean snickers in bewilderment.  

“Don’t be him.” Bobby’s words cut through her. Growing up around John Winchester taught her a lot about how not to be a family and she was starting to regret pushing Sam away.

She could see Dean thinking, and he looks to her with pleading eyes begging for help in those moment. She shook her head, and dean scoffed again turning to face Bobby when suddenly he was gone.

“Dean?!” She screeches, her voice cracking in the process. Both her and Bobby looking frantically around the house.

“Oh, balls!” Bobby yells, kicking the side of his desk.

But just as suddenly Dean disappeared, Castiel stood before her.

“Hello Y/N,” Castiel greets her, looking towards Bobby giving him a nod.

“Where the hell is Dean Castiel!” She asks ready to take on the angel in front of her.

“We have him, it’s almost time.” Castiel bluntly replies.

“We? You mean the angels have him?” She asks a new wave of panic sifts through her blood stream.

“Yes, we have him, don’t worry he’s safe.” Castiel states. Before she could respond Castiel was gone again.

She screams in frustration, grabbing the nearest book and tossing it in the direction where the angel once stood.

“Here,” Bobby says tapping her shoulder and handing her a glass of whiskey.

“Thanks,” she responds. Taking in a heaping swig to off set her nerves.

Setting down the cup, she lays down on the closest couch stretching her legs out and sighing at todays events.

“So, what happened between you two?” Bobby asks again this time really letting on that he needed to know.

“I did something stupid Bobby.” She replies reaching over to the cup of whiskey taking another sip before continuing.

“Dean and I slept together.” She blurts out. Groaning at the thought of last night.

“You did what?” Bobby asks, a sliver of disbelief hanging on his tongue.

“Yeah, last night, in your- in your shop.” She grunts out. Letting out another huff in embarrassment.

“You stupid stupid girl! Seriously! Dean of ALL people?” Bobby yells making her jump at his sudden voice raise.

“I know Bobby-“ She starts before getting cut off.

“I don’t think you understand woman, if Sam finds and he will, he’s gunna be pissed.” Bobby snickers taking back the cup that he had previously handed to her. A quick ‘hey!’ at his action leaves her lips.

“What were you thinking?” Bobby sighs shaking his head at her.

“I was upset too Bobby, Sam’s made it evident that he doesn’t want to be with me.” She shrugs. Completely drained by everything that’s happened over the last 48 hours.

“He does want to be with you, you idjit.” Bobby tells her bluntly. Almost as if they were repeating the same conversation as before, but centered on her this time.

“No he doesn’t Bobby,” she responds, tears choking up her words as she fight back all the hurt she experienced because of the youngest Winchester.

“Yes he does Y/N, that kid is so madly in love with you he’s doing all of this for you- to give you a better world, I know his actions doesn’t seem it but that’s what he doing kiddo, for you.” Bobby says, handing her back the previously taken whiskey glass.

She lays there silently for a moment before taking another sip of the glass. She doesn’t respond to Bobby before sitting up and pushing her self off the couch. Grabbing her cellphone that laid on the side table, she makes her way outside. She walks around to the shop to get some privacy incase Bobby came looking.

Taking a deep breath, she calls Sam’s cellphone. After a few rings its sent to voice mail where she hesitates for a quick moment of what she was going to say.

“Sammy,” she starts, taking another deep breath before continuing.

“You don’t have to do this. Come back to Bobby’s please, we’ll figure out another way, you and me, come back to me, please. My sweet boy please, just come back to me.” She finishes the phone call.

Her heart ached, frustrated and annoyed with herself. How could she be so stupid and go behind Sam’s back like that? The sun was almost rested in the sky at this point in the evening, the moon peaking over the tower of cars that laid in the salvage yard. She decides to go back inside, wanting to distract herself with cooking something at the very least.

But as she turns around to start her way back, she is met with Castiel and Dean in front of her. Dean tries to say something before Castiel is grabbing her and before she can protest they were standing in front of the prophet Chuck.

“God damn it Cas!” She yells, stumbling, and trying to catch her balance.

“Oh this isn’t supposed to be happening-“ Chuck says while simultaneously on the phone.

“No- lady this is definitely supposed to be happening, but I uh, I gotta call you back.” Chuck says to the woman on the phone before disconnecting the call.

“St. Marys? What is that a convent?” Dean asks reading over the newly written Supernatural Script.

“Yeah but-but you guys aren’t supposed to be there.” Chuck responds. “You’re not in this story,” he finishes, completely flustered by their arrival.

“We’re making it up as we go.” Cas states. Dean looks between the angel and her, also confused by the angels actions. She shrugs at his glance.

Then, the familiar sound of angel static and bright lights fill the room.

“Oh no not this again!” Chuck groans, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“It’s the archangel!” Castiel screams over the sound.  A wave of panic flushes Dean’s features and he looks like he is a bout to pass out from the sheer rush of adrenaline.

“I’ll hold them off, just stop Sam!” Castiel yells, looking between her and Dean.

Touching both of them at the same time, they’re transported to a new location. Dean takes a moment to look around to realize that they’re at the convent. He grabs a hold of her hand and starts to walk down the hallway in front of them. The round a corner to find Sam and Ruby in the main chapel room with Lilith on  the ground. Ruby turns to look at the two and smirks. A deep scrawl forms on both of their faces, preparing to kill the demon bitch. With a flick of her wrist, Ruby closes the door on them.

Rushing to the door way, they both start to bang on the old wooden doors. Yelling his name at the top of their lungs. She pushes Dean out of the way and uses her whole body weight against the door to try to pry it open. She was desperate at this point, tears threatened to break loose from her lashes. Wanting nothing more than to save him.

“Move!” Dean yells. Turning around she see’s him holding a statue and she grabs a hold of it. The two of them ram the door open and Ruby turns to face them.  

Grabbing the demon knife from Dean’s pocket she strides towards Ruby.

“You’re too late.” Ruby laughs.

“I don’t care,” she snickers back.

Sam stands up quickly, grabbing a hold of  Rubys arms as she makes the final blow. Twisting the knife to make sure she was truly dead. Ruby starts to flash out, and sick smile forms on her lips as she watches.

Ruby finally drops dead and Sam pushes Ruby to the side. Sam takes a moment to look at her, and Dean before resting on her face.

“I’m sorry,” Sam chokes out.

He takes a step forward and his hands come to cuff her cheeks, bringing her in for a quick kiss. The ground beings to rumble as a bright light shoots from the center. This throws off their balance making her fall into Sam. Dean looks between the two of them, his words stuck on his throat unsure of what to say. They all three turn to look at the hole that was beginning to form. Dean grabs onto both of them frantically.

“Y/N, Sammy, lets go-“ Dean spats out. Sam grabs on to Dean, staring down the light.

“Dean?” Sammy asks and Dean looks to him concerned.

Sam chokes on broken tears.

“He’s coming-“

[uhgood-girl]

why jikook?

i've been asking myself this a lot recently bc well, why them? why not tkook? or ynmin? hell, jihope even, they're underrated as hell honestly, have you seen that hot tub video? hobi was ready to unhinge his jaw to swallow jimin whole (and who (jk) could blame him.)

but jikook, in a not joking way, hits different. they always have. it's been years at this point that i've been deep in this rabbit hole (within the larger bts rabbit hole, my god, how deep does it go) but i don't recall making the conscious decision to fall in.

maybe a little background?

i'm a fake love army. actually, if we're getting technical, i'm an outro tear army bc it was in the comments of the freshly released fake love music video that i saw someone recommend outro tear if i enjoyed fake love and then it was over for me. extremely not fake love at first listen, who's voice is second on this track? i NEED to know. i'm a yoongi/rapline bias to this day. fake love still fucks though, don't get me wrong, it's a never skip for me.

for that first year and then some, i consumed backlogged content like it was my day job. i am a prone to hyper-fixations hermit, basically, who was going to stop me? my therapist? nah, she picks her battles.

i watched everything i could get my grubby little hands on like someone would be testing me on it later. (shoutout qdeoks, you were so real) i didn't open stan twitter for the first time till probably the end of 2018, really just in time to be slapped in the face full force with the shitshow that was a hate campaign against these boys i was deeply invested in by then, the likes of which i had never experienced in an online space up to that point. it was a truly, truly wild era, don't ever let anyone tell you differently.

all that to say, i've been here for a hot minute and i developed my own first impressions on bts and the members as individuals in a vacuum. no one had to point jikook out to me, they stuck out on their own.

potentially relevant disclaimer before we continue: i am really really queer. i grew up in the united states conservative deep south and had to change high schools my sophomore year bc i was outed and then violently ostracized for being in a relationship with my same sex best friend at the time. it is safe to say i have a lot of feelings about and experience even when it comes to having to be low key (understatement lol) about who you love. i am not here just to make my barbies kiss.

actually, on that note, jikook wouldnt even be my chosen barbies out of bts. if we're in true fantasy delulu hours here, i would want yoonjin to be real. god, that would be the stuff, they're so old married as it is. peak romance.

i think the first place jikook ever truly caught my attention were the memories dvds. jimin has always been a sweet, bby angel taking care of all his members but i remember thinking that he seemed to pay a little extra, special attention to jungkook. and of course, why not, jk's the maknae after all. all of them have always been doting on him and deservedly so. but in those briefly shown really serious, quiet moments, jimin was often first in line. a spot very easy for him to obtain tbh as jk never seemed to be very far from him anyway. maybe if you've never in real time lived the satellite jeon accusations (hi pandemic army, bless you, i hope you make it to 2025 when we have them all back without restrictions) you might find them easier to dismiss but it was so consistent back then in all of the content being released. and once noticed, i don't know how anyone ever un-notices it. but i was in deep before i even realized the water was boiling.

should i talk about why not tkook? or ynmin, for me? i'm just pulling those as examples bc i know they're the popular contenders here but all joking in the beginning of this post aside, none of the other members interpersonal relationships, in any configuration (sadly, RIP yoonjin romance), have ever struck me as anything other than puppy crush/deep friendship/family. and that's not bc i don't think over half of those men aren't queer in some form or fashion because WHEW, that is an entirely different post and we simply do not have the time to unpack rn but it's not for lack of looking.

i started in a vacuum, but i have by no means stayed there, i walked in all of those front doors and sat down and said "convince me." i've got the time and lack of life, i am ready to be won over. what have i missed?

to this day i still regularly try and check my own confirmation bias, i'm obviously looking for jikook at this stage but i'm still ready on my toes if any of the others want to get crazy. (yoonjin i am rooting for you, we're all rooting for you)

and i'm not here to really persuade or sway anyone one way or another either. there are a 1000 other blogs on this site that can probably offer you better explanations, specific clips, and detailed break downs of moments throughout the years and even then people are going to see what they want to see. i just wanted to write some of my own thoughts down finally.

though...i guess if i had to point to any one single piece of "evidence" it would definitely be tried and true gcf tokyo? but if watching that the first time didn't ring through you like a gunshot, i def don't think there's anything i could say beyond that.

honestly, i think so much of "why jikook" for me boils down to the pit in the bottom of my stomach that i used to get when i first began to notice them. when i got past the initial warm fuzzies inspired by the sincerity of their interactions, my immediate second emotion was concern.

i remember the first time i heard some of the other boys make an offhand joke about them being a couple and i got anxious, fast. i thought hide, hide better, please be safe. i began to pay extra attention to the other members in general too when jikook would do things and felt like i could sometimes see a similar anxiety to my own in their expressions. for a long time, i just worried about them and where i saw other people rejoice in their more obvious moments, i was slow to celebrate.

despite my initial hesitation, it's now been about 5 years since the first time they ever made me double take. they're a few years younger than me but i feel like we've been growing up together. (parasocial? idk her.) they're less conspicuous these days, and for lots of obvious reasons, but i feel like overall, their confidence in themselves and each other is quite high. i know that's probably a funny thing to say in light of this last week especially, but i stand by it. i've seen this song and dance before. i have managed my own expectations in the past, taken full steps back only to be beaten anew over the head so many times with enough "coincidences" i felt borderline foolish to try and deny anything. jikook are truly some sort of neuro-spicy pattern recognition drug, i swear.

and i've never really gotten to talk about any of this with anyone before! i'm shy irl, and shy online apparently bc i have just been lurking around the outer lines of this circle this whole time like some creepy creep but i've decided i'm over it. fuck it. growth.gif. idk that i have anything important or new to contribute to the conversation but my god, no one else seems to let that stop them so i might as well take my turn on the soapbox, no?

so 📢 JIKOOK REAL (?) jikook sus. jikook make bandaged queer little heart go boom boom.

[spcewild]

Hey... After playing mk1 i had this idea lingering in my mind as i was maining smoke. Could you write simething like, everytime reader and smoker fight together against a common enemy he always put himself in front of you, like a natural reaction for him its to protect you even tho you know how to defend yourself... And this being his mind not knowing how to express how much he likes the reader. Sorry haha i have no idea what i want im so sorry i love you and your fics

Hiii anon!!

Tysm for the request, this is such a cute idea <33

And I'm glad u like my fics!<3

I had to do some research on smoke so I can get his personality on point lol, if I wrote something that doesn't quite sound like something he'd say then please let me know! :)

Now here it is! ☆

Smoke x (gn!) Reader

Warnings: fluff, violence, smoke being a cutie patootie, and maybe some other things I missed.

Summary: Smoke is an obvious sweetheart who is willing to help you in battle - no matter what. But.. even if you don't need his help? You bet! He's still there!! :)

"You know I can defend myself right?"

You speak almost in a pout, when you see yet again - Smoke haul his body in front of you when you two were ambushed by some enemies. (Ones probably sent by Shang Tsung)

"Of course I know that!- it's just.. what if you get hurt- or-"

You half heartedly paid attention to his rambling when he started defending himself. Yet despite him speaking in his defense, he was still able to take out the remaining enemies surrounding you two.

You knew he didn't think you were weak or anything, it's just the way he was - a habit he made anytime he sensed danger or anytime an enemy would even come within 10 feet of you.

It didn't click in your mind that the reason He was doing this was because he liked you.

At first you just shrugged it off as him trying to be helpful.. or slightly too protective? It only took a few incidents that actually made it obvious to you though finally.

One being;

During training when you were put into a duo team - you were paired with smoke. You two fought against Johnny and Kenshi, a fair fight but anytime he saw either Johnny or Kenshi even look at you, he'd sprint over in front of you like he was some sort of human shield. It shocked you as much as it did Johnny and Kenshi the first time he did it. It didn't take long for them to get used to his habit of the action.

Although another incident made you question why he truly did it-

When you and Smoke decided to stroll down to Madam Bo's for a dinner (in his excuse taking you being a "professional" dinner of two combat partners) you two were walking on the sidewalk of the cobblestone earthy floor of road. But as you two were walking past a few food stands - you heard it before you could even see it; a crashing sound coming from one of the carts. Your mind processed what was happening but not in time for your body to react. Yet you felt strong arms wrap around your body as you squeezes your eyes shut, waiting for some sort of impact.

When met with nothing but silence you slowly opened an eye. Then the other.

You were now able to take in the view in front of you - Smoke with his arms wrapped around your waist , his body hovering over yours as his back was flushed against the cart that had tipped over. With little effort he managed to push the cart back into place with his back.

"Are you okay?!-"

You heard the man call out as his head turned back to you, his eyes wandering over your body as if he was checking for marks.

"I'm fine Tomas- thank you.."

Throughout the entire dinner you caught him taking glances at you as if he was making sure you were okay.

(Which he, of course, paid for all himself)

But what made you suspicious of most was when he jumped in front of you while you were solo dueling against Raiden.

You and Raiden were casually sparring, in request of Liu Kang to help train you both. Some people including Kung Lao and Johnny were watching as some were elsewhere. And surprise - Smoke was watching over you two like you would shatter at any minute.

While sparring you had to admit - you were losing. And it was... pretty obvious. Raiden was a very skilled fighter and losing against him would not be an uncommon occurrence.

Despite that, when Smoke saw Raiden pulling his arm back seemingly about to give a fatal blow - Smoke ran over onto action and jumped right between you and Raiden.

Standing there shocked for a moment before the fight continued - mostly just Smoke taking over your own fight.

That was the big giveaway for you - there was no way he was just doing this out of the kind of his heart? Right?

You finally decided that there was something going on about him, deciding that soon you would need ask him about it.

☆

Author's note:

Sorry this was so short! I wanted to finish it by the end of the night lol, I hope you enjoy this <3

REQUESTS: OPEN

[megs-98]

An Understanding

"You have a good heart, little one. One that I admire very much. It takes a special person to do everything that you have done, please don’t forget that.”

A/N: LOL i was big in my emotions the other day and i guess i just needed to hear a pep talk from halsin so i wrote a drabble. i think i'm gonna keep doing one shots of halsin and my tav mara and seeing how their relationship evolves

Characters: Halsin, f!named Tav (Mara)

Tags: Thoughts and talk of low self confidence, depiction of smoking, the slightest mention of death, halsin being a reassuring sweetheart

Word count: 1.6k

Mara sat with her back on a rock along the riverbank; her wet hair hung in her face as she brought her knees to her chest. An attempt to shrink into herself. Her mind replayed the last weeks over and over. The nautiloid, meeting all of her new friends, the battles they endured both physically and mentally. Mara hadn’t known her companions very long but she felt an obligation to help them through their personal journeys as they were more than ready to help her with finding a solution to the illithid tadpoles. 

She felt as her eyes started to burn, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes as she learned her head back and took a deep breath. Mara was no stranger to difficult situations; being a former paladin of Ilmater that wandered Baldur’s Gate and the surrounding areas, she had seen, and helped with, various conflicts. The situation she found herself in now, though, was not something she ever thought would happen. The little that she had learned about each of her companions, Mara knew that they were all plagued by unfair and unjust circumstances for far too long and she devoted herself to helping them as they found their way back to Baldur’s Gate. Her chest felt heavier and heavier with every thought; how was she supposed to lead a ragtag team to save themselves with no real answers or guidance. She felt less confident with herself as she truly thought about the situation at hand. 

Mara felt a hot tear descend down her nose and past her lips as it trailed her cheek, another one followed the same path soon after; then one after another. She put a hand on her forehead as she stared into her lap and watched the tears fall off her face, an occasional sniffle breaking the silence that surrounded her.

“Unbelievable.” She said to herself with a laugh as she combed her fingers through her hair, “I’ve helped children in poverty, fought people after they tried to discriminate against other drow and tieflings and orcs. I’ve devoted myself to helping those who are oppressed and suffering. I have had divine intervention guide me to what is right and wrong. I can do this…” The last sentence sounded like a question even to Mara. 

“Those are all quite impressive feats, little one.” Mara quickly turned around, sat on her knees, to see who was talking to her. To her relief it was Halsin, the archdruid who asked to accompany her and the others to the Shadow Cursed lands. “I do apologize if I disturbed you, that was not my intention, nor was eavesdropping.” He gave her a small smile as he swung a leg over a felled tree that laid close to Mara.

Mara rose to her feet and quickly wiped her face dry as she shook her head. “No! No, you’re fine, Halsin. I was just thinking out loud, I guess.” She said as she gathered her items. Halsin gave her a hum of acknowledgement as she straightened herself out and walked close to him. 

“I should probably head back to camp anyways. I’m sure you would appreciate some privacy for whatever you need to do.” Mara gave him a weary smile as she took a few steps to leave. 

“Why don’t you join me? For just a moment, I won’t keep you long.” Halsin said from behind her, more assertive than she had heard him before. 

Mara stilled herself as she took a deep breath. She knew Halsin was wiser than her, perhaps he could offer advice. With a turn on her heel, Mara walked back to the tree Halsin was perched on and took a seat next to him. They sat in a comfortable silence for a bit, Mara unsure of what to say while Halsin admired the moonlight that reflected in the soft waves of the water. 

The wood elf moved first as he retrieved his pipe out of a satchel along with a small bag of crushed herbs. He held the pipe out to Mara for her to hold. Once she had it in her hands, she inspected the delicate instrument; it was handmade of oak with an earthy oil used as the varnish. She could see every line in the wood as she held it against the moonlight. The lightsource was soon interrupted as Halsin maneuvered her hands so the bowl of the pipe was closer to him. She watched as his calloused, but dexterous hands gently grabbed pinch after pinch of herbs from the small pouch and packed the bowl tight. 

He grabbed a match and gestured for Mara to place the pipe in her mouth, “It would be terribly rude of me if I didn’t offer you the first toke. And do not fret, it’s just herbs to help calm the mind and body, it helps with sleep as well.” He said with a warm smile. “Oh, uh, thank you, Halsin. But I don’t really smo-” Mara’s sentence was cut off as Halsin lit the match and held it close to the bowl. Mara thought of Halsin’s words for a moment, a calming agent would be useful for her. She placed her lips around the stem of the pipe and inhaled a few seconds too long. Her arm shot out as she shoved the pipe back into Halsin’s hands while a fierce cough took over her body. A rumble of laughter erupted from Halsin as he gave Mara his waterskin and rubbed her back trying to help her regain her breath. 

 “Well I do hope you’re able to sleep well tonight. I suppose I should have warned you to take a small inhale if you are not accustomed to smoking.” Halsin said as he calmed his laughter and watched as Mara wiped the tears from her face and caught a glimpse of her eye roll as she drank from his water. “I did want to speak to you though, little one. What has you alone and upset on this particular night?” He asked as his gaze softened when he met Mara’s eyes.   

Mara quickly dropped her eyes to her hands and kept her eyes trained on her fingers that picked at her cuticles. “It’s nothing, really. I think I’m just tired.” She said with a sigh. She could feel Halsin’s eyes on her as he looked at her, hoping for more of an answer. As much as she disliked it, Mara knew she needed to speak her feelings or else they would continue to worsen, jeopardizing herself and the others. “I think,” she paused as her voice wavered, “that I’ve been tired for a while. Everything I do, everything that I have almost always done, is to make others happy. If I think I’m doing the right thing, someone is upset. If I try to make that person happy, someone else is upset. I did what I thought was going to protect myself and the others and I broke my oath to Ilmater; thus becoming an oathbreaker paladin.” Halsin placed a hand over one of hers as she took a shaky breath, her lip quivered as she tried to calm her emotions. “I don’t know how, or why, I became the leader of our group, but I’m losing more and more faith in myself as the days go by. I don't think that I can keep everyone safe. I just… I just don’t know what to do, Halsin.” She felt the tears again as they flowed from her eyes. 

Halsin moved closer to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a comforting squeeze before he grabbed her hands in his. “Thank you, Mara. Truly. It is hard to discuss one’s feelings and I’m honored you trust me enough to do so.” He kept his eyes trained on her and gently brought his hand to her cheek, guiding her face to look at him and tucked a loose strand behind her ear as she finally looked at him. “I do have an understanding of what you say. After losing many druids to the fight of the Shadow Cursed lands 100 years ago and then becoming the archdruid at the Emerald Grove, I did not think I had any right to be a leader again.” Mara noticed as his shoulders slumped forward slightly and solemn light found its way to his eyes. 

“I was worried that I would let everyone down again, or worse yet, do something that caused them injury or death. I was worried that my past mistakes would cause others to distrust me and cast me out.” He paused as he looked out at the river, “The exact opposite happened, actually.” Halsin said with a small smile. “They trusted my judgment and offered guidance when I asked for it. Not everyone always agreed with my actions, but they trusted that I had the grove’s best interest at heart.” Mara looked at Halsin as he spoke, her eyes a bit wide at the vulnerability on display in front of her. He turned his body so he was facing her again. 

“All of that to say… you’re doing a good job, Mara. You cannot possibly please every person you are around, but it is evident that you are careful with your choices, keeping everyone’s safety and wellbeing at the forefront of your mind. All while also helping most everyone you come across as well. You have a good heart, little one. One that I admire very much. It takes a special person to do everything that you have done, please don’t forget that.” 

Mara felt as her eyes got hot again, another lump forming in her throat. Before she could start crying again she pulled the druid in for a hug. 

“Thank you, Halsin. I will do my best to remember your kind words.” She said before they sat close together in silence again and watched as the fireflies danced through the grass and into the night sky.

[moonselune]

hello! Congrats on graduation! When you have the time of course, can we have Lae’zel x Faerûn!Gith!Druid!Tav, where Lae’zel realizes she’s in love? Instead of Tav being from a creche, they are actually born and immersed in Faerûn culture than Githyanki (a.k.a., Tav is a tree-hugging, disney-princess acting weed head lol).

Thank you so much !! It was a rough three years icl but I did it!! I loved doing this, I can imagine Lae'zel being so annoyed with herself like goddammit how dare you cause the sun to shine brighter and her blood to rush harder ffs tav

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae’zel x Faerûn!Gith!Druid!Reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel had always prided herself on her discipline, her sharp mind honed for battle and her heart steeled against distraction. Emotions were a weakness, a crack in the armor that could be exploited by enemies. But you, a fellow Gith who had been raised in the wilds of Faerûn, defied everything she knew about her people.

You were unlike any Githyanki she had ever encountered. Where Lae'zel was rigid and militant, you were relaxed and free-spirited. A druid, you found solace and strength in the natural world, channeling your power through the earth and the trees. Your connection to the land was almost spiritual, something that mystified and intrigued Lae'zel.

It was during one of your many excursions into the wilderness that Lae'zel began to feel something shift within her. You had taken her to a serene glade, the sunlight filtering through the canopy in golden rays. Birds chirped harmoniously, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. Lae'zel watched as you knelt to the ground, murmuring words in Druidic to a small patch of flowers. They bloomed under your touch, vibrant and alive.

"These woods are beautiful," you said, turning to her with a smile. "They have a certain magic, don't they?"

Lae'zel's response was automatic, her training taking over. "Magic is a tool, to be used for power."

You laughed, a sound that was warm and genuine. "Not all magic is about power, Lae'zel. Sometimes, it's about connection."

For the first time, Lae'zel found herself at a loss for words. She watched as you stood and moved towards her, your steps light and graceful. There was an ease to your movements, a harmony with your surroundings that was completely foreign to her.

"Look," you said softly, pointing to a family of deer grazing nearby. "They're not afraid of us."

Lae'zel's gaze followed your hand, and she observed the deer with curiosity. "They should be cautious. The world is dangerous."

You shook your head, your expression gentle. "Not everything is a threat, Lae'zel. Sometimes, we need to let go of our fears and just... be."

Your words lingered in her mind, a stark contrast to everything she had been taught. As the days turned into weeks, Lae'zel found herself seeking your company more and more. You showed her the beauty of the world, taught her the names of plants and animals, and shared stories of your life in Faerûn.

It was during one quiet evening, as you sat together by the campfire, that Lae'zel truly understood the depth of her feelings. You were humming a soft tune, a melody that seemed to weave through the night air. Lae'zel watched you, your face illuminated by the flickering flames, and felt a warmth spread through her chest.

"Y/N," she said, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

You looked at her with a bright smile, your eyes reflecting the firelight. "Yes, Lae'zel?"

She struggled to find the right words, her disciplined mind grappling with emotions she had long suppressed. "I... I find myself drawn to you. In a way that is unfamiliar."

You smiled, reaching out to take her hand. "I've felt the same, Lae'zel. You're not just a warrior to me. You're so much more."

Lae'zel's heart pounded in her chest as she looked at your joined hands. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel the connection you had spoken of, the bond that went beyond training and duty.

"You are unlike any Gith I have known, you are weak, conscientious and if a squirrel threatened you, you would bow to it." she told you her voice softening. "And yet, I find myself... grateful for it."

Your smile widened and you laughed, Lae'zel could have listened to your laugh all night. You leaned closer, your lips brushing against her cheek. "I'm glad, Lae'zel. Because I love you, just as you are."

Lae'zel's breath caught in her throat, the weight of your words settling over her like a warm embrace. She had never imagined feeling this way, never thought she could love or be loved. But with you, everything seemed possible.

"I... I love you too," she whispered, the words foreign but right.

In that moment, as you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her into a gentle kiss, Lae'zel felt a peace she had never known. For the first time, she allowed herself to just be, and it was beautiful.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[roryonic]

DVD Commentary: Battleships and Love Boats

Another for the vault @shamelessdvdcommentary :)

Idk who requested me, but thank you a whole lot <3 it's nice to be thought of. Since I don't know which story anon would like to know about, I thought I'd pick the biggest and baddest hahah

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

Published June 24th, 2023 (same day I finished In Another World). Wrote and posted one chapter (ish) every day. Finished it about 2 months later.

Chapters? 106

Word count? 238,315

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

Smut.

No, really.

I vaguely dabbled with smut in In Another World, so I wanted to truly try my hand at it in a story that was meant to have it. I also knew I wanted to write a story where they were a bit younger because I like all the angsty drama hahah

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

I almost always write in dual POV. To me, it makes sense because both Ian and Mickey have an equal say about their relationship. It's also such a nice break to be able to jump into one's head when I so please.

What was your favourite scene to write?

Chapter 51 - Boyfriend.

I loooove the casual (semi) PDA and the calm of them both when they're finally together. Details and absentminded touches are my cryptonite, so I adore how they act in that chapter as they're looking at cars. They're dialogue is also adorable (if I may say so myself lol)

How did you come up with the title?

Titles are the first thing I come up with when I'm writing a story and more or less build everything off of that vibe. I think I heard or read Battleships and Love Boats somewhere, but I can't remember where, and it just stuck.

Fitting, though, I think. Both love and calm, but also battles and uncertainty.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

Smut hahah

It's time to face the facts that I will never be an excellent smut writer and I am fine with that. I cringe too much of myself to write too explicitly. Too innocent for this.

Favourite line in the story?

“Jesus Chr—fuck,” Ian spoke breathlessly and dropped his head back a bit too far, consequently banging it against the wall.

The one that started it all hahah

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story?

Oh my god, if it did.

Let's just say that the story you start reading is not the story you end with. But, again, I don't map out my stories if I can help it.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

Dialogue.

I think I had their voices etched into my brain stem at that point. If I can't hear the characters say their lines, I don't write it.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

I wish I had gotten Mickey his car. Sorry, Mick.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

Very much surprised.

After I wrote In Another World, which became quite successful, I didn't think I could replicate anything like the warm reception that it got.

I was wrong.

Battleship, you exceeded all expectations.

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote?

Alexa! Play "All by myself" - Celine Dion!

Ask your followers to pick a snippet (no more than 500 words) and share your thoughts about it.

[mephalis]

Lungs pushing up daisies - Alt ending

so this is an alternative ending, of what if everything that could go bad, went bad? this is for one comment that asked about it, so here you go! and also fueled by the fact that Argenti did not come home so, yeah :D im debating if i should post another work into the series with just this but i deemed it too short...let me know though if i should? as i am not sure and i thought here would work better LOL! special thanks to Grrrrain who helped me get the flow as well as inspired by some of their own sad hanahaki fic elements! a big inspiration!! click more to enjoy the ending! it follows up from the same fic but the last segment is...different! :D

[3:58]boothill:

What the heck was the name of that drink you got me?? Can’t fudgin’ find it anywhere here, got a mad itchin and i need to scratch it. you son of a nice lady, just had to get me a delicious one. Can’t believe I even forgot to go back and get that last forkin’ drop back at the hotel, what a waste.

Voice text converted into text

[3:59]boothill:

Also what kind of wine do ya like? I reckon it might be one of these red ones, but the guy is offerin’ me white champagne and what not…real fancy soundin stuff, they might be right up your alley.

Voice text converted into text

[4:24]boothill:

Too late rosey, i got you this red fudgin’ bottle instead of all the others! Darn son of a gun was trying to make me buy the lot of em, he kept on talkin’ and talkin’. Luckily i got somethin’ that always shut em up real quick. 

Voice text converted into text [4:25]boothill:

For the record, i did forkin’ pay for it. Got kicked out tho just because they get spooked by a gun so easily. Fudgin’ wussies.

Voice text converted into text [7:32]boothill:

You out in the wild or something? First time I got connection and you don’t! Oh yeah right, hope you got some wine glass or what not, don’t ya have to drink them out of these fudgin’ cups? Forgot ‘bout those.

Voice text converted into text [2:05]boothill:

Think ’m bout to see another knight of beauty, found myself at this lil ol’ station and people here are talking and ravin’ about this knight. Doesn’t sound too shabby, they’re sayin a bunch of stuff about bugs and what not…[intangible]-huh? Wait a forkin’ second…–red hair? [intangible] wait, oh shoot, ha! it is you! I can see your ship from here! Fudge, I had to park my forkin’ motor all the way on the opposite side–would you look at that! Wait, if you’re here then why haven't ya answered any of my texts? 

Voice text converted into text [2:12]missed a call from boothill.

----

Boothill tsk’d as the phone call ended with a message about some darn fucking voice message mail box, wherein he would have thought the knight might have been busy or far away from cell service to receive his call, Boothill wouldn’t have bat an eye. 

But Argenti’s ship stood right in front of Boothill, and he heard plenty of the folks on the station talking up a storm of how thankful they are for the current residing knight of beauty inside the ship.

“Ey! Rosey!” Boothill banged on the ship’s door, not too rough as he knew how Argenti cared about the exterior of his ship. Despite being a battle knight, Argenti went through many efforts to maintain the ship’s sleek look. 

There was no answer. 

Boothill was patient, he knew to wait for the right shot, to jump on his hunt. But his patience was a fickle friend, present only when he wanted it to be.

(not after he had heard of the knight getting possibly injured, not when Argenti, the man who’d speak up a storm, brimming with words, was this quiet. It had set his nerves on edge.) 

Boothill, maybe overreacting, kicked at the door in frustration. A futile gesture against the unease festering in his gut.  

But the door opened far too easily with a beep, enough for Boothill to realize it hadn’t been locked at all.

Realization struck him with grim certainty; if Argenti had been truly absent from his ship, he wouldn’t have left it wide open, right?

He frowned, and stepped in. 

There was a silent lull inside, Save for the soft hum of machinery and the distant thrum of the engine in the distant background. Only the sounds of his steps, heavy boots clanging on the metal floor echoed. Boothill had the half mind to close the door behind him properly, before frantically walking around with a search for a pretty red rose.

“Argenti? Ya here?” he called out, quicking his pace. Boothill could already hear the scolding of his Pa for his hasty intrustion in his head.

The sight of the lounge brought back the memory of his stay, and how he woke up from such deep slumber to find himself nearly drooling on Argenti’s pillows. 

But Argenti wasn’t there, so Boothill did not give it another thought as he turned. 

He blinked at where Argenti’s personal garden of roses sat, surprised to find a new addition added to the side, and stood beside it, the small figure of a wooden carved horse that he had made. It sat right next to the pot, somehow like it belonged there, like it was associated with the daisies next to it. 

The daisies, shockful arrays of white and yellow, sparkling somehow just like the roses. Not in the same way, but they had some sort of glow to them that Boothill found himself drawn to.

His hand hovered over them, and at once, he could recall how they felt once long before. 

It evoked a memory, soft and easy to tear off, the bundle of rough blanket of wool had many of the petals stuck to it as he once carried a baby–his baby–out of the bed of daisies one sweltereing summer day.

Boothill remembered Argenti once asking him about daisies.

The knight was already a strange fellow, doing whatever he got in his mind when it was aligned with beauty and all that jazz, but it was even a little strange to Boothill. Oddly specific, Where did the fascination of the daisies come from?

Boothill turned once more, not sparing the daisies a second glance. 

There was only one flower he was interested in. 

"Rosey?" Boothill called out again, stepping into the dimly lit shadows of Argenti's bunk. The room was cloaked in darkness, illuminated only by the soft, shifting  hues of the ship. 

However, light sparked on at his mere presence, automated.

Revealing Argenti's blanketed figure, slumped over the bed in an unnatural curve. 

His red hair sprawled from out of the cover like a wave of crimson river, his form held profound stillness that overturned the concern in Boothill’s heart into chilling dread. 

(was he even breathing?)  

"Argenti!" Boothill rushed forward, and at once he was hit immediately with the sharp smell of metal tang in the air that could not be hidden by the flora that always acquainted Argenti's.

blood.

He yanked the blanket off of Argenti, and reached to turn his body to face him all together in one motion. His mind raced with the urgency to assess the damage, aid whatever he could to slow down the bleeding of what might be wounds of the battle he was just in, and to call for help from the outside if they were grave enough to make the ever so preserved knight fall. But when he saw Argenti’s face, all action came to a screeching halt.

It was not an open wound, as Boothill had feared.

Boothill wished it was, as he stared at yellow daisies poking out of Argenti’s bloodied mouth. 

“..Argenti?” his breath hitched as he called out again with a tremor in his voice, pulling the knight into his arms and watched in horror as Argenti’s head drooped, falling down heavily like a ragdoll.

“Hey,” Boothill said with crackling static, desperation creeping in, haunting realization, “wake up, this ain’t funny.” 

Boothill reached to hold his face properly, cupping his pale cheek and ignoring the petal that cascaded its way down. He saw the pot of daisies by the roses, this was just a joke, a cruel joke from Argenti. 

A cruel joke from the world.

The pallor of a skin, like a forgotten rose, Argenti’s complexion was ashen. Dried blood stained his lips and trailed down his chin, the front of his shirt, and daisies spilled over his mouth with the tremble of Boothill’s arms holding him, scattering between them and forgotten. 

Boothill grit his teeth hard enough he could hear the metal, but everything was muted, numb to him as he curled over Argenti’s cold body. Boothill's fingers twitched in a pathetic attempt to hold Argenti gently, afraid to inflict more pain. The abscense of warmth was palpable, even without his senses. 

“Please,” Boothill begged, to Argenti, to anyone. Pressing his ear against Argenti’s chest, despite clearly knowing and his breath caught on his throat with a cry he wasn’t able to shed. 

It’s wrong.

“I love you.”

Argenti had confessed more than once, apparent with what he felt but Boothill ran away from it, from confronting it again, from ever mentioning it. He knew Argenti never moved on, it was obvious with the way the knight looked at him, held on to him, spoke to him, smiled at him that made that undeniable.

Boothill let it all unfold, endured the weight of Argenti’s affection with his own hidden beneath lies and pretend, thinking that this much was fine, as long as Argenti would be fine.

The corpse in arms beg to differ. 

He should have ran away, he should have cut all contact, but like a fucking selfish weak idiot he was he stayed enough for Argenti to die.

If anyone should have died by this cursed thing, it should have been him. 

“I warned you,” Boothill spat, hugging him closer, burying his face into the crook of his shoulder. He couldn’t even pretend when now he felt the cold of his corpse with the skin of his cheek pressed against Argenti’s neck. “Why, why did you keep…” 

Loving me?

Boothill clenched his jaw, burnt with despair, “Ya shouldn’t have it! I still, i still–it ain’t possible so how!?”

His questions and anguished cries were met with silence. 

Boothill had it first, he had been the one to first fall. He still loved Argenti despite it all, but he rejected him. All because he thought it was for the best.

He was the reason Argenti was now dead. 

The devastating cost of his silence, of his lie, now laid bare in front of him. 

The dull green eyes of Argenti’s corpse were devoid of his sparkle. The daisies covered with blood, the motionless sick stillness, a grotesque evidence that his life withered away long gone.

“I’m sorry,” Boothill choked on regret and sorrow, “im sorry, i’m sorry–”

He could only cradle Argenti’s corpse close to him, whispering his love into the void. 

“I love you, i still love you.” 

But his words fell on deaf ears, swallowed by the silence of loss.

[danthediamondminecart]

RBBTober Day 1/2 - Roleswap

Hey, it’s day one of that prompt list! Let’s go!

The writing drabble for today is under the cut, and will also be posted on my writing socials (you know the ones)!

What I’m also going to do, is where relevant, I’ll put images of the AU that never got posted here on Tumblr. So I'm not drawing like 3 drawings at once, the drawings made specifically for the prompts will be labelled as such, lol. The Swap AU supplementals are also under the cut, as well as some further discussion on the au!

“Do you truly hate Tanqr?”

Kreek lays back against the chair the interviewer so helpfully provided for him (though it's very uncomfortable). He adjusts his glasses and takes a second to think of a good response.

“Nah. I don’t see why I would. Sure, he's annoying, a little bit of a man child, incredibly braindead at times, loud and overconfident, a little bit too bloodthirsty for me, but I don't hate him, not really. We play it up for the cameras, yknow? He's the only person I think I would've been happy with beating me in RB Battles, even if he likes to boast about it way too much and uses it to get on my nerves half the time. I try to win everything I can, and when I don’t I get annoyed with myself and others, but after he won, I didn’t feel that way. I never have. He's a nice guy, even if he has trouble showing it sometimes, I respect him and I respect his drive to win, his competitiveness, his determination. We're similar in that way.”

“I...see.”

~~~

“Do you truly hate Kreek?”

“Of course not!” That was an instant response. Even with only one visible (the other being covered by an eyepatch), the surprise in Tanqr’s eyes is obvious. “How dare you!”

At the interviewer's mild discomfort, Tanqr settles down and laughs it off.

“I'm just pulling your leg. I'd call us...best buds who like to torment each other a little bit too much. He's so smug about everything and thinks he's better than everyone, he's super smart and charismatic and he knows it, he's aloof and loves to take the mick outta me, but...I can't hate him despite it all. He sucks, but in a way that it's not hard to be his friend once you get over the initial hurdle. Plus...I like the fact he didn't get too upset that I beat him. Any other person and they would've hated me. The fans already hated me, I don’t know if I could have handled anyone else. But not Kreek. I appreciate him for that. What can I say, tryhards stick together!”

"...Got it."

~~~

So, as you can tell, Swap!Kreek & Tanqr are...very different from C!Kreek & Tanqr, because they're actually friends. This actually isn't really a roleswap AU - it's closer to a personality swap AU, but the roles stay the same. Because of that personality swap, Kreek took losing Season 1 a lot better, meaning that his and Tanqr's rivalry never got worse than something friendly and now they're best friends who beat each other up on occasion. But it's very "I'm the only person who can tease him, thanks very much!"

[astradyke]

This is very parasocial of me but I feel like I've always gravitated towards dan because I do find him more chaotic yes but also because of how similar I think he is to me. From his cynical view of love in this modern world while simultaneously being such a hopeless poetic romantic, to the way he approaches uncomfortable situations, but also his perfectionism and how sometimes indulging yourself in a bit of "fun" might not seem as "productive" even if you're making money. My current job for example is so fun! And so well paid but I know it's not what I wanna do and ultimately feels like a waste of time. Like I'm "above it" almost..he's kind of a snob too, which same. I think their relationship just gives me so much hope, that it is possible to have sth so healthy and beautiful even if you struggle with depression and insecurities (I'm sure he's better now!! Me not so much but I'm working on it). Ultimately I do know that we're all doomed and they're brands not just people and this is their job but they truly do make me happy and hopeful! And dan is so dear to me..I just wanted to share and you felt like the safest space <3

hi, i appreciate you sharing this :') historically i have found myself to be more of a 'Phil' to other people, as i tend to stray from cynicism and be more of an optimistic manic pixie dream type (lol) to my close friends' cynicism and pragmaticism. but lately i have been thinking about Dan a lot -- Basically I'm Gay may not have sunk in at the time, but having grown up and reached a point away from my own queer trauma, re-examining his experience has been really illuminating for my own journey. i ultimately don't think i relate that closely to either of them, but it's been interesting to see those overlaps.

anyway, i am so glad you not only derive joy out of their content but also hope. Dan and Phil have such a beautiful love story but they are far from the only people capable of having that kind of genuine love. Dan especially, as you've articulated here, has been so vulnerable with his own struggles against the ideas of perfection, and productivity, and happiness. his journey resonates with so many other people who have had to battle that same thing. and it all led him here, where he is not only to be loved so fiercely by someone who truly does adore him like he hung the stars in the sky, but he also has a love and respect for himself.

it makes me incredibly overjoyed to know that their content makes you feel happy and hopeful; Dan really is such an incredible inspiration and i really value his vulnerability so highly. you have your own journey to go through, and it's a beautiful one because it is yours and you are a beautiful person who is going to figure it all out, y'know? whenever that happens to happen for you.

it turns out i am incapable of writing short replies to literally anything, but i am sincerely thankful that you shared this with me. i hope i didn't overstep <3 have a lovely one anon.

[thatoneguy56fanfic]

This thought has been on my mind for a while now, and I decided to share it. (Also it’s almost midnight where I live, and I’m half asleep as I’m writing this. So I apologize in advance if this doesn’t make a lot of sense, or if there’s a bunch of typos/mistakes lol.)

To be entirely honest, I used to be a big critic of Baavira. It wasn’t until very recently that I started to become more interested in the ship, and now I can honestly call myself a fan. They’re adorable together. However, one of the most prevalent arguments I see used against Baavira is Kuvira’s chose to sacrifice Baatar Jr in B4E11. Let me share my thoughts on this decision and why I think it she did it. (Also I’m by no means trying to justify her actions, I’m just sharing my thoughts.)

I have a lot of headcanons about Kuvira, which is unsurprising since she’s my favorite character in LOK. But one of them is that she’s a master tactician. She proved this by the very act of restoring order to the Earth Kingdom without any real help from the other nations. This is both one of her greatest strengths and her biggest character flaw. Because when she’s in “battle mode”, she focuses on the numbers. She weighs every potential action against the probability of it succeeding.

If it’s too risky, she won’t do it. Which is also why I think she truly decided to attack the United Republic. Not just because it was once Earth Kingdom territory, but because she didn’t want an enemy at her doorstep. So she chose to eliminate the threat. I think she used the same line of thinking when it came to Baatar Jr. I truly believe that when she ordered her soldier to find out where the signal was coming from, she originally planned on rescuing him.

But then she started to calculate the numbers. Baatar Jr wasn’t being guarded by run of the mill United Forces soldiers. He was surrounded by the biggest threats to the Earth Empire. Not the least of which being the literal Avatar. It wouldn’t have taken Kuvira long to realize that a rescue mission was simply too risky. Even if her soldiers breached the building and subdued the defenders, there was too high of a probability that Korra or someone else would’ve escaped. And she couldn’t risk them escaping, only to come back and harass her forces again later.

Not to mention that I believe that Kuvira was in a rush. She knew that the other nations wouldn’t respond well to her attacking the United Republic. So I personally think that she was trying to end the campaign quickly, so she could shore up her defenses just in case the other nations decided to try something.

So she chose the one option that could potentially give her the best outcome: blowing up the building. I don’t think she made this choice lightly, and if you watch closely enough you can see her hesitate slightly before firing her spirit canon. It wasn’t a long moment, of course, but it was there. Yes, her fiancé was in the building. But so was everyone who was leading the resistance against her invasion. In the end, Kuvira knew that blowing up the building could potentially win her the battle in a single blow, and ultimately that was the best option at that time.

If you still don’t believe me, rewatch the finale. Kuvira becomes truly desperate in her final fight with Korra. I personally think this is partially because of her guilt about Baatar Jr.

But anyway, this post is long enough and I should really get some sleep lol. Thanks for putting up with my rambling.

[thavampress]

A Court of Flame

Aemond x OC!femTargaryen

Chapter Warnings: This is long lol, light touching/teasing but barely

Masterlist

(Dividers by @firefly-graphics)

Chapter Five

~Saesha~

Saesha was roused by the maids. She sat up, warm streaks of light flowing across the room. She couldn’t help but stare at the wall beside the fireplace. She remembered Aemond’s tall shape slipping through the door that now had no evidence of existing. She remembered…

Her cheeks burned at the thought, and she could hardly believe she had been so bold. She did manage two cups of wine before Aemond appeared in her chambers, perhaps granting her some much needed liquid courage.

Saesha had heard of pleasuring one’s partner with their mouth, but she never imagined the reaction she had received. She had barely been able to keep her wits about her when Aemond offered to reciprocate.

Her skin was burning by the time she got out of bed, her night dress sticking to her. She groaned. The maids had begun to run her a bath.

“That can wait,” she said, slightly sharper than she had intended. “Dress me for flying instead. I will bathe when I return.”

One maid looked to the other, “Forgive me, princess, but we have been strictly instructed by the Queen to bathe and dr-“

“I understand. I am giving you a new instruction. Please fetch my riding clothes.”

The maids did not argue further, making quick work of dressing Saesha in her riding leathers. She slipped through the castle as quickly and quietly as she could. The halls were already bustling wildly with servants of every caliber prepping for the evening’s wedding. Saesha’s wedding. Her skin was on fire.

She managed to escape the castle walls without questioning, hurrying to the back of the Keep as she had before, meeting Vermithor’s enormous shape by the Blackwater Rush.

She mounted him and commanded him upward, knowing the maids who readied her would be reporting back to Alicent any moment. Vermithor took to the skies with a familiar gust of wind, and Saesha reveled in the cool air hitting her skin.

She tried to bank her dragon around the backside of the castle to stay out of sight as long as possible. Mount and rider dipped and spun, riding the currents of the wind with grace. For a time, Saesha felt free, until a massive shadow eclipsed the sun above her.

~Aemond~

Aemond had spent the night staring at the canopy of his bed trying to fathom that his visit to Saesha had been real. He also spent a significant amount of time battling the hard-on he could not seem to shake.

By the time morning rolled around, Aemond had barely gotten any sleep. Not ideal for a man’s wedding day. He spent his morning to himself, reading by the warm sunlight filtering through his window. He had finally found a relative peace—until Alicent barged into his room with a look of panic.

“Mother,” Aemond greeted, standing startled, “what-“

“Saesha has flown off! I’m sure she means to abandon us,” she said in a tizzy. “Gods, I should have known better. I should’ve gone straight to ready her myself!”

Aemond couldn’t explain that he was almost certain Saesha did not intend to abandon him after the night they had. Alicent huffed, bringing her hand up to rest against her forehead.

Aemond took his leave of her—after assuring he would be back with his betrothed in towe before the wedding was to begin. His path was held up by a few lords congratulating him on the fair match, and wishing him many sons. Of course, Aemond wanted a son. He had seen what a dispute of succession could do, and didn’t want any more conflict with the matter. But truly, he looked forward to daughters.

A son felt like unsure footing, strange enough. A boy to discipline, a man to make—something his own father had no helping hand in. With daughters, it felt like Aemond could allow himself to soften. Daughters he could love without condition.

After finally making it free of the castle walls, Aemond found Vhagar coming down to meet him near the bluff. He jogged to get to her, climbing the rope to finally make it to the peak of her back.

“Sōvēs,” Aemond commanded, and the ancient beast took off. It didn’t take him long to find Saesha—seconds in fact. He smiled as he watched her soar around with a veteran dragonrider’s poise. He coasted Vhagar higher, bringing her over the top of Vermithor.

He could see Saesha’s loose white hair flowing behind her, her head turning to look up at him. Then she dove, sending Vermithor plunging downward. Aemond could not maneuver Vhagar so easily, so he pursued Saesha from afar, trying his very best to keep a safe distance.

He followed her over the city, and down toward the same beach they had met on once before. He climbed down once they’d landed, turning to see Saesha’s approaching shape.

“Have you come to wrangle me to the alter?” She asked when they were face to face. Her hair fell unrestricted down her back in unkempt waves. He’d never seen her completely undone before—he was quite fond of it.

Aemond smiled. “I’ve been sent to make sure you don’t mean to abandon me.”

“I thought after last night you wouldn’t doubt my intention to marry you, princeling.”

She was so confident in her words, and yet her pink cheeks betrayed her.

Aemond found himself gazing down at her, unsure what to say. He leaned down a little instead, and Saesha tilted her head without hesitation. Aemond’s hand went to her face, pressing his lips to hers. He went slow and soft, but with purpose like always. The soft lapping of waves covered the light smooches.

“I am glad you wish to marry me,” Aemond said when they broke apart. I am glad you do not think me terrible and wicked.

Saesha smiled, leaning her face into his palm. “I am glad it is you I’ll marry, out of anyone else. You are not what I expected, princeling.”

Aemond felt full then, and warm in a way he hadn’t since early childhood. “I should get you back,” he whispered.

Saesha nodded, seeming more relaxed. “I suppose I’ll see you in the sept.”

Aemond tilted her face up to kiss her once more. “Please try to stay out of trouble until then,” he laughed before leaning down to whisper in her ear, “and later, I’ll finally get to return the favor.”

Her face was flushed when he pulled away, but she was grinning. He reluctantly freed her from his grasp and watched as Saesha mounted herself on Vermithor once again. They took off together, Aemond flying right behind her. He watched to make sure she landed safely at the foot of the Keep, before opting to take Vhagar out for a bit longer.

~Saesha~

Saesha was swarmed with handmaids the second she entered the castle. Alicent appeared around the corridor and rushed them, her soft blue skirts rustled with each quick step.

Saesha dropped into a low curtesy, bowing her head. “Forgive me, your grace. I had no intention of raising your worry. I simply needed the air.”

Alicent sighed as Saesha lifted her head. She didn’t look as flushed as she had barreling down the hallway. Instead, she was looking at Saesha intently, with a look in her eyes that Saesha couldn’t identify.

“I know what it is like to wish to be free,” Alicent said finally. “Just please let me know next time you wish to take flight on one of the most important days of all of our lives.”

Saesha smiled, and Alicent mirrored her. “Now, can we please get you into the bath?” Alicent begged, taking in Saesha’s windswept hair.

Saesha laughed, nodding as the maids began to usher her back to her chambers.

Three maids assisted in Saesha’s bath, which she deemed overkill. One stood at her head, washing and brushing her hair until it looked like a sheet or pearly silver. Another worked on scrubbing her skin with rose and mint scented oils, while the third clipped and cleaned her nails.

As they finished her bath, wrapping Saesha in a green silk robe, Alicent entered with two more maids trailing her. They held an enormous box between the two of them, moving to set it on the edge of her bed. Alicent was grinning as Saesha approached.

“Is it..?”

“Your dress,” Alicent affirmed. “I checked it already. It’s exactly as we discussed.”

Saesha reached out, running a finger along the edge of the box, nodding to the maids who brought it in the remove the lid.

There it lay, the most elaborate and magnificent gown Saesha had ever seen. Alicent had commissioned the start of the gown before Saesha had even arrived in King’s Landing, her measurements having been sent ahead from Dragonstone. Though the foundation was mostly laid, Alicent gave Saesha free reign to customize the gown as she saw fit. The one concession she had refused to make was allowing Saesha to choose black for the fabric. She figured using either black or green was in poor taste, as the entire point of Aemond and Saesha’s union was to put any memory of the Dance to bed for good.

The maids lifted the dress from the box, laying it out on the bed. They went instead with white for the base of the gown, deciding to keep it traditional. The sleeves were long, and lined with pearlescent white scales from shoulder to wrist, where they billowed out and down to the floor. The insides of the long sleeve-tails were embroidered with black scales—the small honor she was allowed for her mother. The bodice was corseted and adorned with more scales to the point that the upper half of the dress looked like armor. The skirt was full, with more embroidery down the sides and back of black and purple dragons and flowers.

It was work of art. Each stitch and scale was perfectly laid, not a single fray or flaw to be found. Saesha felt strangely emotional looking down at her wedding gown.

Alicent took notice, dismissing the staff from the room. Saesha felt her place a gentle had on her arm, pulling her from her stupor. A single tear fell down her cheek, and Alicent clicked her tongue at the sight, gently pulling Saesha into her for an embrace. Saesha didn’t fight her, suddenly feeling she had needed the hug.

Alicent held onto her until Saesha stepped back, swiping the tears from her cheeks. “I am sorry your mother cannot be here today,” Alicent said softly. “I hope I can bring you some comfort where she would.”

Normally, Saesha would sneer at a comment like this. It had been Alicent’s own betrayal that helped spark her family’s downfall, yet Saesha could see in her eyes that she meant what she said.

“Thank you, your grace.”

“Please,” the Queen scoffed, “do call me Alicent. You are to be my daughter-in-law by the end of the day. We can be past formalities.”

The maids were invited back in then to begin Saesha’s hair. The styling would take hours, so they had to begin early.

And hours it did take. Finally, nearing the end of hour three, Saesha had a braided crown wrapped around her head, with the bottom layer free and curled down her shoulders. Tiny amethyst crystals were woven into the crown to match the purple theme of her gown. Saesha looked at the styling with deep approval, feeling more like the princess she was than she had since long before the Dance.

Alicent clasped her hands over her heart. “Oh my dear, you look magnificent and we haven’t even dressed you yet. We may yet get a public smile from Aemond.”

Saesha laughed at her comment. Alicent then clapped lightly, “Right, let’s get this gown on. We have no time to waste!”

Another flurry of maids and Saesha was laced into her dress. The image altogether was truly something to behold. Not only did she look every inch a princess, but bride. A Targaryen bride.

Alicent was crying now, and all the maids in the room looked at Saesha with admiration and approval. A squire entered, also seeming to pause to take in Saesha’s appearance.

“Your graces,” he said, clearing his throat, “the court has begun to gather in the sept.”

“Come, come,” Alicent clapped again, sniffling, “it’s time.”

With a shuddering breath and a last look in the mirror, Saesha nodded and followed Alicent from her chambers.

~Aemond~

After his flight, Aemond headed for his chambers to bathe. Much to his dismay, he was ambushed by his brother accompanied by Ser Criston Cole before he could make it there.

“Come on, brother,” Aegon begged. “It’s your wedding day! Come and have some fun with us.”

“It won’t be anything distasteful, my prince, I will ensure it,” Cole added. “We will stay in the Keep.”

“What exactly did you fools have in mind?” Aemond questioned, quirking his eyebrow.

“Have a drink, play a game with us,” Ser Criston offered.

“Loosen. The fuck. Up.” Aegon stated, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “You are to marry a beautiful woman today. I know your feelings on whores so there will be none of that. Just us, some lads of the court. It’ll be fun.”

Aemond rolled his eyes. “I have no interest in your bachelor festivities.”

As Aemond turned to leave, Aegon reached out to grab his arm. “Then at least let us come be with you while you ready yourself. Just me and Cole.”

Aegon had a strange look a clarity and almost pleading in his eyes. It made Aemond nod his head firmly, stalking toward his chambers with his brother and Ser Criston trailing behind.

Aemond opted not to drink. He wanted to be clear headed for all of the days events. Aegon drank happily, while Ser Criston only nursed a single cup. Aemond sat at his desk, a round mirror propped up on it so he could watch the maid braid small sections of his hair back.

She took two pieces from the front on either side, braiding them back into a small bun at the back of his head, long braid tails running out of it. The rest of his hair was pin straight and loose down his back.

“Like a Dothraki going to battle, brother,” Aegon smiled, holding his goblet up in a toast. Aemond rolled his eyes.

He was dressed next. He wore a black doublet—as usual—but this one had nearly invisible dragon scales embossed into the leather. The lining of them a deep red that appeared black unless under direct sunlight. Targaryen colors. His eyepatch was made from the finest black leather.

“You cut a handsome figure, my prince,” Cole complimented.

Aemond bowed his head in thanks, not spending too long lingering in the mirror. They could begin to hear the sounds of a procession down the corridor toward Aemond’s chambers. It was no doubt the Hand coming to escort them to the sept. Aemond thought of Saesha, being ushered into a litter by his mother. He wondered if she might be feeling as overwhelmed as he was.

Ser Criston opened the door, preparing for the Hand’s entrance. Aegon turned to Aemond then, taking his hand in his. Aemond fought the urge to flinch.

“Do you think you could grow to have real feelings for this girl?” Aegon asked genuinely.

Aemond cocked his head, surprised by such a question from his brother. “I believe I already have,” he answered.

Aegon smiled. “That is good. She seems like the right type.”

“The right type?” Aemond questioned. “For what?”

Aegon hummed. “It will be better if you have a strong Queen.”

As Aemond opened his mouth to question him, Otto and the other lords of the small counsel were standing in the doorway. Otto smiled, his chin raised.

“My prince, it is time we proceed to the sept,” the Hand announced.

The journey to the sept was blur, as was the announcement to the hundreds of lords and ladies in attendance that Aemond had arrived. He walked down the isle stoically, facing the massive Seven Pointed Star hanging above the alter.

Then they waited. The whole sept was eerily still in anticipation of the bride’s arrival. Then, the doors were yanked open, and every head in sept turned to behold Saesha Targaryen in full wedding regalia at the end of the isle.

Aemond sucked in a breath at the sight as the announcement of her title rang out, and she proceeded down toward him.

~Saesha~

Don’t trip, don’t look at the crowd, breathe, Saesha recounted to herself with each step. She gazed up at the Seven Pointed Star before allowing her eyes to drop to where Aemond stood below it. She smiled a little at the sight, and she watched as the corner of Aemond’s lip quirked when he saw it.

He was dashingly handsome all dressed up. Aemond took care of his appearance always, but seeing his hair braided in traditional fashion and wearing their house colors was quite a treat.

She made sure to keep her pace steady. The isle seemed miles long, and she clenched her jaw at each whisper from the lords and ladies surrounding her. But her eyes never left Aemond. The second she had landed on him, she felt an unspoken reassurance that helped her take each step toward him.

Finally she made it to him, and Aemond extended his hand to help her up the steps. His palm was warm, and rough, and familiar. Saesha let out the breath she’d been holding.

The ceremony was traditional, and without event. Aemond cloaked her under his protection, and they said their vows in the name of the Seven. The crowd cheered as they were finally announced as husband and wife.

Husband and wife, Saesha heard the words ringing in her ears all the way out of the sept and to the carriage awaiting the newly weds. She felt Aemond’s hand envelope hers once again, bringing her back to reality. He helped her into the carriage before climbing in after her.

“You look stunning, princess,” Aemond said to her once they were rumbling away from the sept and back toward the Keep.

Saesha observed him sitting across from her, “And you look rather dashing, princeling.”

“One last feast, dragonling,” Aemond said with a sly smile, “and then I’m all yours.”

Saesha let out a breath, smiling deviously at him. “Well then, husband, let us make haste.”

The entire city seemed to be out to celebrate their union, and when they made it back to the castle it was no different. The courtyard, the halls, every bit of the keep was decorated in dragon banners and black and red streamers. Apparently the staff had been busy while they were all away at the ceremony.

Saesha breathed a sigh of relief when she and Aemond were ushered into a side room to wait until they were summoned as one into the throne room. Quiet fell easily over them both, only the hum of a hundred voices throughout the castle to be heard. A breeze blew the soft linen curtains back, allowing the sea air to drift into the room.

Finally, Saesha’s gaze paused on Aemond, who was staring back at her intensely. He took two slow, easily strides to her, cupping her face in both large hands.

“Ābrazȳrys,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over hers.

“Valzȳrys,” she hummed back, closing the gap to press her lips against his.

He sighed, leaning into her. Saesha couldn’t help the smile that quirked the corners of her mouth. Aemond took another step forward—never breaking the kiss—backing her up until they both bumped clumsily into a table. His large hands found her thighs, lifting her up to seat her on the table. Saesha was dizzy as he found his place between her legs, both his hands still on her face as he kissed her again and again and again, somehow deeper each time.

Finally, Saesha tore away, chest heaving and cheeks no doubt as flushed as ever. Aemond was grinning, his own breaths coming out in pants as he ran his thumb over her bottom lip.

“My, my, how did ever get so lucky,” he whispered in their mother tongue.

Saesha smiled wickedly, arching her face up to wordlessly ask for another kiss. Aemond happily obliged.

“That may remain a mystery for the rest of time, princeling,” Saesha responded when they broke away again.

Aemond hummed, his remaining violet eye dark as it had been the night before. Saesha’s breath caught as he slowly lifted the hem of her dress, pushing it up her stockinged thighs. She attempted to keep her breathing under control, failing miserably when Aemond stoked a testing finger over her clothed center.

She sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, her lilac eyes flickering closed. Aemond chucked a little, leaning in to inhale her neck before pressing sloppy wet kisses down to her collarbone.

Another testing swipe at her covered folds.

Saesha bit her lip fighting desperately to keep her sounds contained. Finally, just as Aemond hooked a finger into her small clothes, a knock sounded at the door.

Aemond withdrew from her much to quickly, and Saesha nearly pouted like a child. Aemond laughed, walking over to the door and opening it just a crack.

“My prince,” a servant greeted, “the court awaits you both in the throne room.”

Aemond hummed again, sighing. “Well then, my wife, I suppose we shouldn’t keep anyone waiting.”

Saesha could tell he was doing everything in his power to keep the shit-eating grin off his face. His handsome, rideable face, Saesha thought, despite herself.

She slid from the table, righting her skirts before marching past Aemond to follow the servant to the throne room.

~

I’m sorry there’s no smut like promised. This chapter was wayyyy longer than I intended, but I swear to you all next chapter you shall feast.

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[emi-matchu]

I watch very little reality TV, but I enjoyed "Siren: Survive The Island" a lot!!

I need to look into whether wargame / game theory reality is like, a whole-ass genre, because I really enjoyed analyzing it lmao

vagued analysis + thematic spoilers below the cut, trying to keep it minimal but like, I do kinda imply who wins the whole-ass game in the end cuz you can't avoid that

SPOILERS BE HERE

So like, I found it fascinating how strategy was truly the winning factor every time: exactly all of the base battles went exactly how you would expect on paper. I found myself shouting so often "no no, this plan is nothing!!", and then it was very validating to watch them run around and have their plan be nothing LMAO—and to watch the people who have like, truly any sensible strategy consistently win the day.

That said, this show is perfectly on my skill edge, because I found that I was always predicting outcomes one step ahead, but I didn't at all clock that team as potentially a winner early on??

I did notice that two of the teams had a "charisma problem" that would lead everyone to gun for them, but I still kinda figured they'd be the final two? But in hindsight, the winners just simply kept their heads down and morale high, made smart choices every time, and didn't let the competitive-pride vibes get to them; and so of course they were going to get to 1v1, and win once they were there.

They even had an execution advantage in the final fight, but imo it didn't even really matter—like sure, physical execution determined arena battles, but literally never changed the outcome of a base battle imo: simple things like high ground mattered a lot more.

And one other interesting phenomenon that shook out of "strategy is the winning factor" is that the producers were able to consistently rig the game to go exactly how they wanted LOL

Like, it was kinda incredibly transparent how the arena battles and siren timings were very carefully selected to give advantages to the teams they wanted to keep in it til the end? and it's just kinda strange to me that it fully just worked every time, without a hitch. I expected something to go against their plan even once, and it just… didn't.

And I guess that's kinda my big takeaway… it's one thing to think about strategy etc in fiction, or to make predictions about how a company is doing, but it was really interesting to see a real-life scenario so strongly validate my intuition that like… yep, coherent strategy in a competitive space is wildly powerful, and not having it is devastating: if you don't literally have one specific reason for why a very hard thing will work out in your favor, then you should expect it to not. (The final battle was a very very clear example of this imo: one team had a plan that gave them the advantage, and the other team just kinda… let that happen and tried to grit their teeth through it.)

And conversely, a good plan is powerful! and in the right setting it can do a lot to set you apart from what everyone else experiences.

…anyway, I'm excited to explore this genre a bit more, I want to flex my muscles a bit on predicting how a wargame will go long-term, instead of just looking at one step at a time. It's exciting and fun!!

(Anyone have recs for series that scratch that same itch of "let's look at a territory map and think about how that affects strategic decisions"? Doesn't have to be literally a territory map lmao but like, similar vibes of navigating complex rules in smart ways over time.)