#a little bit of childhood mayhaps

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

I love that Maria gives Ellie specifically what looks like Rockford socks btw. those are sock monkey socks!!!

[dazevi]

vi x reader angst where reader and vi had something before lockup (maybe reader was desperately looking for her/a body for years and never got with anyone else because they loved vi). first time they see vi again, they’re kissing cait. vi has to make a choice (mayhaps someone tells vi how much, how long and how deep reader still loves vi)

SORRY THIS ASK IS LONG BUT NO ONE WRITES VI X CAIT X READER ANSGT AND IM FEENING FOR ITTTT CA

i've loved you for so long | vi x fem!reader, angst, squint of fluff, wc: 10k | masterlist

content warnings: not much! angst!!!, brief caitvi, childhood friend!vi, firelight kinda!reader, tiny mention of blood, bit of an open ending, uhhhhh ….

note: sorry this took so long but i hope u like it! (struggled a bit with the ending so i left it kind of open and hopeful :P

Growing up in the Lanes was never easy. The air was always thick wit smog and desperation. But somehow, in the middle of all the grime, there were moments of light—moments that felt almost normal… sweet, even.

For Vi, those moments often came when she was with you.

You were the kind of person who seemed to radiate something soft, something pure, even in a place as unforgiving as here. You were always helping someone—patching up a scraped knee, sharing what little food you had, or offering a warm smile that could ease even the sharpest edges of the Lanes’ harsh reality. Vi, on the other hand, was tough as nails, like she always was. But when it came to you, that toughness often cracked, revealing a gentler side that few people ever got to see.

You met when you were both kids, barely old enough to understand the full weight of the world you were born into. Vi had just finished scrapping with a group of older kids who had tried to steal a loaf of bread from Powder. Her knuckles were bloody, and her lip was split, but she wore her bruises with pride as she swaggered down the street.

Then she saw you—someone small and delicate crouched beside a stray cat with a limp, gently wrapping its leg with a strip of cloth you’d torn from your own sleeve. Vi had stopped in her tracks, her usual bravado faltering as she watched you work with such careful concentration. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone show that kind of… tenderness.

“Hey,” she had said, her voice rough but curious, “what’re you doing?”

You looked up at her, your eyes wide and a little startled, but then you smiled. “Helping,” you said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

From that moment on, Vi couldn’t seem to stay away from you.

She’d show up wherever you were, always with some excuse—she was just passing through, or she needed your help with something, or she was making sure no one was giving you trouble. In truth, she just liked being around you. You didn’t flinch when she got into fights, didn���t scold her for her temper or her stubbornness. Instead, you had this way of looking at her, like you could see past all of that to the person she really was. And Vi, who had always felt like she had to be tough to survive and protect her family, found herself wanting to be softer when she was with you.

The two of you became inseparable, spending your days exploring the winding alleys and hidden corners of the Lanes. Vi would teach you how to throw a punch, insisting that you needed to know how to defend yourself. You’d laugh as she guided your fists, her hands warm and steady against yours, though she always ended up pulling her punches when it came to sparring.

“Can’t risk messing up that pretty face of yours,” she’d tease, though her voice would always carry a hint of something serious, like the idea of you getting hurt was unbearable to her.

“You’re an idiot,” you’d say back.

And she’d laugh, nudging you playfully against your shoulder, her all ears red as she looked at you, “But I’m your idiot.”

You, in turn, taught Vi the value of kindness, though you didn’t do it with words. You did it with your actions—with the way you’d stop to help a stranger, even when you didn’t have much to give, or the way you’d bandage up Vi’s cuts and bruises after a fight, your touch so gentle it made her chest ache. She’d sit there, watching you work, and wonder how someone like you could exist in a place like this.

And it also helped that Powder adored you too.

She’d often tag along on your adventures with her wide-eyed curiosity. You had a way of making her feel seen, of treating her like she was just as capable and important as the rest of you, and that meant the world to her. Vi loved watching the two of you together, the way you’d laugh and tease each other, the way you’d patiently explain things to Powder when she didn’t understand. It made Vi’s dreams of a better life feel almost tangible, like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more than survival.

And then there were the jobs… or whatever she could get from Ekko.

They were never easy—running contraband, sneaking into places she had no business being. Vi loved the adrenaline of it, the thrill of a plan coming together, but there was always a part of her that thought about you while she was out there. She’d see something—a trinket, a piece of candy, a flower growing stubbornly in the cracks of the pavement—and she’d think of you.

She started bringing things back for you, little gifts she’d pretend didn’t mean anything. The first time, it was a shiny button she found while breaking into a some storage room. It was small and completely useless, but it was the kind of thing she thought you’d like. She tossed it to you when she came back, trying to act casual.

“Found this,” she said, her voice gruff. “Figured you could use it for… I don’t know, something.”

You’d looked at her, a little confused at first, but when you smiled and said, “Thanks, Vi,” she felt something warm settle in her chest.

After that, it became a habit.

She’d bring you scraps of fabric, little bits of wire and string, or a half-broken gadget Powder thought she could fix up for you. Once, she brought you a single daisy she’d found growing in a crack on the edge of the Lanes. She’d nearly crushed it during the job, and when she handed it to you, she was so embarrassed she couldn’t meet your eyes.

“It’s just a flower,” she mumbled, scratching the back of her neck. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But you always did. Vi would pretend it didn’t matter, but her ears would turn red, and she’d fumble with excuses about why she’d brought you something in the first place.

She didn’t know how to say what she was feeling, didn’t even fully understand it herself. All she knew was that you made the Lanes feel a little less bleak, a little less hopeless.

And as the years passed, the your relationship with Vi only grew stronger. There were always moments when the certain feelings between you became almost impossible to ignore—like the time you patched her up after a particularly nasty fight, your fingers lingering on her cheek as you wiped away the blood, telling her firmly to always be careful, as your eyes search hers. Or the time she caught you staring at her with that soft look in your eyes and she felt her cheeks flush, her confidence faltering as she looked away, muttering something about how you shouldn’t look at her like that. You’d raise an eyebrow in response, then just laugh softly.

But neither of you ever said anything outright. Instead, you found comfort in the smaller things—stolen glances, the way your hands would brush against each other as you walked side by side, the way Vi’s walls would melt away when it was just the two of you.

You were more than just a friend. You were her safe place, her reminder that there was still good in the world, even in the darkest corners of the Lanes. And for you, she was your protector, your anchor, the person who made you feel like maybe you weren’t as fragile as the world wanted you to believe.

But the Lanes always had a way of taking everything good and twisting it into something painful.

The night everything went to shit was the last time life in the Lanes felt even remotely bearable. It had been tense from the start. Vander was gone, taken by Silco, and Vi’s face was set in that grim determination she always wore when she was trying to be strong for everyone else. You knew she was scared, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

You were in the back room of the Last Drop, pacing. Vi had told you to stay put, her voice sharper than usual, her gaze practically boring a hole through you.

“Don’t follow us,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Just… stay here. Look after Powder, okay? I can’t worry about you and her while we’re out there.”

You wanted to argue, to tell her you could help, that you weren’t as fragile as she thought you were. But the look in her eyes stopped you. So, you nodded, biting back the words you wanted to say, and watched her leave with Mylo and Claggor.

Powder sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, clutching one of her gadgets like it was a lifeline. She kept glancing at the door like she was expecting Vi to come back at any moment, triumphant and unscathed.

But you both knew better.

The hours dragged on, the silence between you and Powder filled only with the occasional sound of glass breaking in the distance or the low hum of Zaun’s underbelly. You tried to keep your hands busy, cleaning up the room, organizing scraps of whatever was lying around. Anything to stop your mind from racing. Powder didn’t really say much; she just watched you with wide, anxious eyes, her fingers fidgeting with the gears of her monkey bomb.

Eventually, exhaustion began to creep in. You figured you were working too much. You remembered Vi’s words in your head, telling you that she’s always careful, that she’ll always come back to you. And you tried to stay awake, tried to keep an eye on Powder like Vi had asked, but your body betrayed you.

Powder had been quiet the whole night, but as you drifted off, she glanced at you. She hated being left behind, hated the way Vi always told her to stay because she wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t capable enough. She wanted to prove herself, to show that she could help, that she could save them. And with you asleep, curled up in Vi’s bed, she saw her chance. Quietly, Powder slipped off the couch, grabbing her monkey bomb and a bag of supplies. She hesitated for a moment, looking back at you. She didn’t want to leave you, but she couldn’t sit there and do nothing.

Not when Vi needed her.

She crept out of the room, careful not to make a sound, and disappeared into the shadows.

The first thing you noticed as you stirred was the faint, low rumble of something distant but violent—a sound that felt like it rattled through the very walls of the Last Drop. You blinked, eyes fluttering slowly as you pushed yourself up. The second explosion was sharper, louder, and your heart leaped in your chest. It was a sound that didn’t belong to the Lanes.

Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of the room. Everything felt too still now, too quiet, except for the faint aftershock of what you had just heard. You rubbed at your face, trying to shake off the grogginess, and then you noticed it—bright, electric blue sparks flickering in the distance, visible through the small, grimy window. Your stomach dropped as a sense of dread washed over you. Your breaths came quicker now, shallow and uneven, as you sat up fully, scanning the room.

“Powder?” you called out softly, your voice hoarse from sleep.

You looked around, the familiar clutter of the space offering no sign of her.

“Powder?” you called again, louder this time, but the silence that followed made your chest tighten.

You stumbled to your feet, nearly tripping over a discarded piece of scrap on the floor. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign that she was still there—a glimpse of her small frame huddled in the corner, the sound of her fidgeting with one of her gadgets.

But there was nothing.

The couch where she’d been sitting earlier was empty, the blanket you’d draped over her crumpled and abandoned. The faint smell of oil and metal lingered in the air, but it was missing the warmth of her presence.

“No, no, no,” you muttered under your breath, your mind racing as you pieced together what must have happened.

You remembered the way she had been clutching that monkey bomb earlier, the way her eyes had flickered with something desperate and restless.

She left.

Your knees nearly buckled as you made your way to the window, pressing your palms against the cold glass. The sparks of blue still flickered in the distance, bright against the dark, polluted haze of the Lanes. The explosions hadn’t stopped, and now there were faint trails of smoke rising into the air.

“Powder,” you whispered, the weight of her name heavy on your tongue.

She had gone after Vi, you were sure of it. The thought hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. She was out there—your sweet, fragile Powder—in the middle of whatever chaos was unfolding.

And Vi… Vi had told you both to stay behind.

Now, you were running as fast as you could.

And when you got there, everything was on fire.

Buildings were crumbling under the weight of the flames, black smoke billowing into the sky and choking the air around you. The heat was suffocating, stinging your eyes and making it hard to breathe. You stood there, frozen, your wide eyes scanning the devastation. The ground was stained with dark, wet streaks that gleamed in the firelight—blood. It was everywhere, smeared across the cobblestones, trailing through the debris, pooling in some places as if marking the spots where someone had fallen.

But there were no bodies.

No sign of Vi. No Mylo. No Claggor. No Powder. Just… nothing.

Your chest heaved as you tried to take it all in, your mind struggling to make sense of the chaos. The silence was deafening, broken only by the relentless crackle of flames and the occasional groan of a collapsing structure. You called out for them. You spent hours waiting, searching and trying.

But, there were no voices, no footsteps, no cries for help.

Just emptiness.

Nothing.

The days blurred into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years. Time moved forward, but you stayed stuck in the same moment—the night everything fell apart. The fire, the blood on the streets, the faces of everyone you loved burned into your memory like scars you couldn’t erase. It didn’t matter how much time passed. You never stopped seeing them. Never stopped feeling the weight of their absence.

Life in the Undercity didn’t wait for grief. It didn’t give you the chance to sit still and process the ache in your chest or the emptiness that had swallowed your world whole. The streets you grew up on were darker now, quieter, yet somehow more dangerous. Shimmer twisted its way into every crack and corner, poisoning the air you breathed.

You still had Ekko. He stuck close, as much as he could, and you were grateful for him in ways you couldn’t put into words. But even with him around, the loneliness lingered anyway.

Nights were the worst. The silence of your small, dimly lit room pressed down on you, and your mind replayed every memory of Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. Sometimes, you could almost hear their laughter echoing in the distance.

Almost.

You never stopped looking for her.

At first, it was constant. Every waking moment you scoured the streets, searching for any trace of her. You asked anyone who would listen if they’d seen her, but no one had. Not a single person could tell you where she had gone or what had happened to her. Some said she was dead. Others said she’d been taken topside, to Piltover’s dungeons. You didn’t know which was worse.

You looked for Powder, too. Sometimes, you felt like you’d seen traces of her somewhere, certain colors she liked, drawings on the wall… It was like she was there, but she wasn’t… like she didn’t want to be found.

And years passed, but the hope never left you. Not fully. Even when the streets seemed colder, even when Ekko begged you to stop putting yourself in danger, you kept searching. You’d walk the streets at night, hood pulled tight over your head, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pink hair or hear her sharp voice in the crowd. Every time you saw a tall figure in the shadows, your heart would leap, only to sink seconds later when it wasn’t her.

You wondered, sometimes, if she was looking for you too. If she was out there somewhere, wondering what had happened to you. If she missed you the way you missed her. Those thoughts were the only thing that kept you going on the hardest days.

The Undercity changed around you. The shimmer trade grew stronger, its effects spreading like a disease. People you’d known your whole life turned hollow, their eyes glassy, their voices slurred. Survival became harder with each passing day. But even as the world around you crumbled, you held onto the memory of Vi.

Her voice. Her laugh. The way she used to look at you when she thought you weren’t paying attention, as if you were something more than just a friend. The way she used to bring you small, silly things from her jobs—half the time things she swore she’d found by accident, even though you knew better.

You missed her so much it hurt.

Then, one night, Ekko came to visit you.

He had news about Powder.

He’d seen her, he said. And it didn’t make sense at first.

He sat across from you in the dim, flickering light of the small hideout you’d both retreated to. His voice was almost hesitant, but heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. Regret? Anger? Grief? Maybe all three, twisted together in a way that made him seem older than he was, like the years had weighed heavier on him than they should have.

You were hunched over, elbows resting on your knees, your face buried in your hands. It had been another fruitless day, searching for a ghost you weren’t sure even existed anymore. Your body ached, your head throbbed, and the emptiness in your chest felt like it might swallow you whole.

And then Ekko said it—he said her name.

“Powder… she’s not the same anymore.”

At first, you thought he meant something else. Maybe she’d grown up like the rest of you, toughened by the streets and the weight of survival. Maybe he’d seen her, and she was angry, distant, bitter about the past. You could’ve handled that. You could’ve understood that.

But that wasn’t what he meant.

“She goes by Jinx now.”

You lifted your head slowly, confusion knitting your brow. “What are you talking about?”

Your voice was sharp, tinged with a nervous laugh that didn’t quite land.

“Powder wouldn’t call herself that. That’s not… that’s not her.”

Ekko’s gaze didn’t waver. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, his expression hard but laced with pain. “It is her. She’s with Silco now.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “She wouldn’t—she’d never—”

“She’s different, (Y/n).” His voice cracked, just barely, but enough to make you flinch. “She’s not the kid we knew. Silco got in her head, twisted her up. She’s… dangerous now.”

You sat back, your body rigid, your mind spinning. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Powder was sweet, shy, maybe a little clumsy, but always full of love and hope. Powder adored you. Powder idolized Vi. She’d never turn into someone like… like that.

“Where did you hear this?” you demanded, your voice low but trembling. “Who told you?”

“I saw her,” Ekko said flatly. “It’s her, (Y/n). She’s been running with Silco’s people for years. She’s the one behind half the chaos in the Lanes right now. You’ve heard about the explosions, the heists—the people disappearing. That’s Jinx.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening.

“That’s Powder.”

You stared at him, the words refusing to sink in. It felt like someone had ripped the ground out from under you, leaving you floundering in freefall.

“You’re wrong,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Powder wouldn’t… she wouldn’t do that.”

“I wish I was wrong,” Ekko muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. “But I’m not. She’s gone. The Powder we knew—she’s gone.”

“No,” you snapped, louder this time, anger rising to the surface as your chest tightened with panic. “She’s not gone. She’s just… confused, or scared, or… something. She wouldn’t just…”

Ekko’s face softened, but his eyes were filled with sadness. “I thought the same thing when I first saw her. I wanted to believe she could still come back, that maybe I could fix it. But she’s too far gone. Silco’s got his hooks right into her. She’s not the kid we grew up with anymore. She’s…”

He paused, the words catching in his throat.

“She’s dangerous.”

You shook your head again, your hands trembling as you pressed them against your thighs. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Powder was your friend, your family. She was bright and sweet and full of so much love. She wasn’t… she wasn’t a monster.

The thoughts clung to you every night. Powder—Jinx—had become someone unrecognizable, and you couldn’t stop the questions from flooding your mind. What would Vi think if she knew? Would she be disappointed in you for not doing more, for not stopping Powder before it was too late? Would she think you’d failed her?

Vi. Her name echoed in your mind. You missed her in a way that was so all-encompassing it became a part of you. You missed the way she used to tease you, the way she’d smirk like she had the world figured out, even when she didn’t. You missed patching her up after a fight. You missed how she’d smile at you, telling you that things to brighten your day. You missed everything.

It was only recently that you realized why the ache felt so sharp, so endless. You loved her. You’d loved her for years, even if you hadn’t admitted it to yourself until now. It was why you couldn’t let her go, why no one else had ever been able to fill the void she left behind.

People had tried. There were a few who flirted with you, a few who asked you to dinner or drinks. But you’d always brushed them off, always found an excuse. None of them were her. None of them had her fire, her strength, the way she made you feel seen and safe all at once.

The years hadn’t been kind to you, but you’d done your best to survive, to keep going even when it felt like the world was crumbling around you. You’d thrown yourself into helping Ekko and the Firelights, finding purpose in their mission even when you felt lost.

You patched them up when they were injured, your hands steady as you cleaned wounds and wrapped bandages. You shared what little food you had, sometimes going without so they wouldn’t have to. You became someone they could rely on, even if you didn’t always feel strong yourself.

But that strength went away a couple months later—the day you saw her again. It was something you didn’t prepare yourself for. You hadn’t expected it at all.

The sunlight filtering through the cracks of the hideout’s makeshift roof caught on the edges of your hair as you worked, pulling ripe fruits and vegetables from the small garden that the Firelights had nurtured in secret. The air was damp but fresh, filled with the earthy scent of soil and the faint hum of life. You liked working in the garden—it gave you a moment of peace, a small break from the weight of everything outside.

When you were done, your hands were covered in dirt, and a bead of sweat traced its way down your temple. You wiped your brow with the back of your arm, sighing softly. A few of the others nodded at you in thanks as they carried the baskets of food away. You stayed behind, crouched by the water pump, scrubbing the grime from your hands and under your nails.

The cool water washed over your skin, and for a moment, you let yourself pause, closing your eyes as the sound of the stream drowned out your thoughts. But it didn’t last long. The quiet never did.

Once you were cleaned up, you shook off the weariness and decided to find Ekko. You’d been meaning to talk to him about something—or maybe you just wanted to hear a familiar voice. The hideout could feel suffocating at times, even though it was a sanctuary for many. Ekko had a way of cutting through it, reminding you that there was still something worth fighting for.

But as you made your way through the winding halls of the hideout, you stopped short, your breath catching in your throat.

In one of the side rooms, barely lit by the faint glow of sunlight filtering through the cracks, you saw them.

A girl with blue hair stood close to another figure, her delicate fingers brushing against the cheek of the person in front of her. You couldn’t make out their faces at first, your mind taking an extra second to register what you were seeing. But then the pink hair caught the light, vibrant even in the dim room, and your chest tightened.

Vi.

Your Vi.

And she wasn’t alone.

The blue-haired girl leaned in, her lips brushing against Vi’s in a kiss so soft, so tender, that it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Vi didn’t pull away, her hand resting gently on the girl’s waist, her shoulders relaxing in a way you hadn’t seen in years.

You froze, rooted to the spot, your feet unwilling to carry you forward—or away. Your mind raced, a thousand thoughts clamoring for attention, but none of them loud enough to break through the sudden ache in your chest.

She was here. She was alive. But she wasn’t yours.

You didn’t know whether to cry out, to step into the room and demand an explanation, or to turn and run before they could see you. You wanted to be happy that she was safe, but all you could feel was the slow, creeping weight of heartbreak as it settled over you.

Because in that moment, it was clear—Vi wasn’t yours to miss. Not anymore.

“You have some explaining to do.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, but they spill out before you can stop them.

You stand at the threshold of Ekko’s lab, chest heaving, heart racing in disbelief. The image of Vi with another woman—kissing her, holding her—flashes in your mind and it’s all too much.

Ekko stands abruptly, looking as startled as you feel. His eyes widen, and his hand instinctively scratches at the back of his neck, a nervous tick you’ve known him to do since you were kids.

“I—I was gonna tell you today,” he stammers, voice cracking slightly as he fumbles for his words. “We just got her last night… when we ambushed Jinx��”

Your breath catches, a knot of frustration and hurt tightening in your chest. “You ambushed Jinx? And now you’re bringing Vi back in like this? Without telling me?”

The words come out harsher than you intend, but it doesn’t matter right now. Your mind is spiraling.

Ekko holds up his hands, trying to calm you, his gaze softening. “I was going to tell you! I just… After everything with Jinx… I didn’t know if she was someone I could trust yet.”

His words hit you like a slap, and for the first time since you walked in here, a part of you slows down. After everything that happened, Vi could very well be someone you couldn’t trust. Someone who might have changed in ways you couldn’t understand. It stings to admit, but the doubt starts to creep in. You know Ekko—his loyalty runs deep, but he’s also careful. He always has been. You take a step back, your fists uncurling as you exhale sharply.

You swallow your frustration and let the silence settle between you, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Can we trust her?

The question hangs in the air, unspoken but felt, before you finally speak it.

“So… can we?” Your voice is quieter now, more hesitant. You want to hear reassurance, but you’re not sure if it’ll come.

Ekko doesn’t answer immediately. He exhales, a long, drawn-out sigh that betrays a weariness you hadn’t noticed before. When he finally looks up at you, his gaze holds something you hadn’t expected—a tenderness, a vulnerability. His lips curl into a small, almost wistful smile, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s seeing something you can’t.

“I think so,” he says softly, his voice quiet but steady. “I think we can.”

You sigh, blinking a few tears away.

“Who’s that… that girl she’s with?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

You keep your eyes on the floor, unwilling to meet Ekko’s gaze, because the truth feels like it might crush you. The girl you’ve loved for as long as you can remember, is with someone else now. And it’s hard to wrap your mind around it, let alone confront it head-on.

Ekko’s silence stretches out for a moment, the room growing thick with the tension that neither of you knows how to ease. But then, slowly, his eyes soften, and you can hear the careful way he breathes in, like he’s about to tell you something heavy. His voice is gentle when he speaks, like he’s trying to cushion the blow without sugarcoating it.

“Her name’s Caitlyn,” Ekko says, and there’s a noticeable pause before he continues, as though he’s gathering his thoughts, picking out the right words. “She’s… She’s an enforcer, but…she’s different. I don’t think she’s on Silco’s side.”

Your stomach tightens at the mention of Caitlyn’s name, and you can feel a bitter knot in your throat.You finally glance up at Ekko, your eyes searching his face, desperate for any trace of what this means.

“Are they…?”

Ekko looks at you for a long, quiet moment, like he’s weighing your reaction against his own thoughts. He doesn’t look at you with pity, though; there’s no judgment in his gaze. Just understanding.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice low. “But I think Vi’s been through a lot. And Caitlyn… I don’t know what they have, but I can’t pretend I understand it. I’m still trying to figure out where Vi stands with all of this… All I know is Vi wants her sister back.”

You can’t look at Ekko anymore. The pain of it is too much, a heavy weight that presses down on you like the sky is collapsing. You back away, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, your hands trembling slightly.

“I thought… I thought she’d come back for me, for us,” you say softly, almost to yourself. The bitterness in your voice is unmistakable.

Ekko doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but you can feel the weight of his sympathy.

Finally, he speaks again, his voice quieter, softer. “I don’t think she’s forgotten you. I think she’s just trying to figure out everything for herself… Besides, she was… actually wondering if you were still around.”

“She was?” Your voice is quieter than you intended, almost shaky as you try to grasp what he just said.

Ekko nods, though his face is filled with something close to guilt, like he knows how this news might break you. “Yeah. She asked about you when she came in… said she didn’t know what happened to you after… everything.”

You let out a shaky sigh, your chest tightening at his words. The weight of it presses down on you, sinking deep.

“Where has she been… all this time?” The question slips out quietly before you can stop it.

Ekko hesitates, his eyes softening as he looks at you. There’s a long pause before he finally answers, each word like a slow puncture to your heart. “Stillwater.”

The name hits you like a punch to the gut. You freeze, unable to process at first, the words echoing in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your skull. It’s a place that steals everything from you, even the will to remember who you were before. Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Vi… Vi was there?

The thought twists something deep inside you, like a sharp ache that spreads through your chest and down into your stomach. It felt impossible to imagine Vi—your Vi—there. The strong, fearless girl you grew up with, the one who fought for every scrap of life she could hold onto. The thought of her, trapped in that hellhole, stripped of the fire that had always burned in her… it’s unbearable.

“You should… probably be talking to her about all of this.”

You freeze at Ekko’s words, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of speaking to her again, of standing face to face with her after all these years, makes your blood run cold. Your chest tightens, and suddenly, breathing feels like a chore.

“I…” You try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat.

What could you say to her? After all this time? The distance between you both feels impossibly wide now, like a canyon you’ll never be able to cross. The thought of seeing her, of facing the reality of what’s changed, of all the years that slipped through your fingers—it paralyzes you. You want to see her. You want to run to her and hold her, tell her everything you’ve kept locked away for so long, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not ready for that.

Your hands are shaking now, and you clutch at the edge of the table for support, your palms slick with sweat.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you say.

Your voice cracks under the weight of your own fear. The thought of facing Vi, of seeing her and realizing how much has changed, of feeling the space that’s grown between you both—it feels impossible.

Ekko watches you, his expression softening with understanding, but there’s something else in his eyes, something unreadable.

“I get it,” he says quietly, taking a step closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to rush into anything. I know you’ve been carrying this around for a long time.”

But the truth is, you don’t just carry the weight of all that time apart—you carry the weight of your own fear. Fear that she’ll see you as a stranger. Fear that you won’t know how to talk to her anymore. Fear that everything that once felt so easy between you and Vi will have changed beyond recognition. The thought of her not loving you anymore, or of you not being able to love her the same way, makes your stomach churn.

You bite your lip, unable to finish the thought, as your mind races in a thousand different directions.

“Does she know I’m here?”

Ekko’s gaze shifts, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He looks like he’s struggling with something, something he doesn’t want to say, but he knows he has to. He shifts on his feet, a sigh escaping him as he scratches the back of his neck again, the tension in his posture telling you more than his words ever could.

“I… I told her you’re around,” Ekko finally says, his voice soft but weighed with caution. “Not here exactly, though. I wanted to warn you before…”

Before everything changes.

But a knock at the door stills the air in the room. It’s sharp, sudden, and it cuts through the heavy silence that’s settled between you. You don’t move at first and Ekko hesitates for a moment, then turns, just as the door creaks open.

And then, there she is.

You freeze, unable to breathe, unable to move as your eyes lock onto hers. It’s like the whole world stops for a moment—your heart, your thoughts, everything. She’s standing there, in the doorway, her eyes wide as they sweep over you. It’s as if she’s seeing you for the first time, like she can’t quite believe you’re here. That you’re real.

Her gaze flickers across you—your eyes, your face, the way you’ve changed over the years. You can see the shock in her features, the way her breath catches for a split second before she can speak.

“(Y/n),” she whispers, her voice raw, as if the sound of your name in her mouth is a shock to her as much as it is to you.

There’s a long pause. Neither of you move, neither of you speak, as if neither of you knows how to start, what to say. Vi stands there, her eyes fixed on you, and you can see the wheels turning behind her expression. She doesn’t look the same as the girl you once knew, but her eyes—those blue eyes—are still the same, full of emotions you can’t quite place.

Vi’s eyes trail down your form, and you can see her struggling to hide the way her gaze softens as she takes in how you’ve grown, how you’ve changed. You’re different now—more than just the girl she once knew in the Lanes—but somehow, at the same time, you’re still the same person. The one who was always kind, always caring. The one who had a heart too big for the world they were in.

You watch as her eyes linger on you, not saying a word, just staring. A small breath escapes her lips, like she’s struggling to hold back some emotion, some surge of feelings that are too heavy for her to put into words. She opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it again, like the words are stuck inside her.

“I, um… I have work to do, Ekko.” Your voice cracks, and you can feel the tears stinging at the back of your eyes.

You tear your gaze away from Vi, your heart pounding in your chest as if it’s trying to break free. The weight of everything, of all the lost time, of everything you thought you had buried, feels like it’s crashing down on you in waves.

You can’t look at her anymore. Not like this. Not when everything in you is screaming to hold her, to ask her why she left, to beg her to stay. But you can’t. Not yet. Not when the hurt is still so raw.

You turn quickly, brushing past Vi with a sharp movement, your steps frantic, but trying to remain composed. Your heart races in your chest as you feel the heat of her eyes on your back, but you don’t look back. You can’t. The moment you do, you’re afraid you’ll break, and you can’t afford to break now.

The door slams shut behind you, and you can hear the soft echo of your hurried footsteps fading as you walk away. You don’t look up, don’t let yourself feel the weight of the emptiness in the room, even though you know it’s all there.

But you’re not ready. Not yet.

Ekko watches the door for a moment, his gaze thoughtful and a little sad. He doesn’t say anything, knowing that nothing he could say will ease the tension in the room.

Vi stands there, still frozen, her mind processing everything all at once. The way you walked out, the way you didn’t look back, how quickly you shut yourself off. She swallows hard, as if trying to force her emotions to settle. But they don’t. They’re all tangled up in her chest. She wants to go after you. She wants to explain.

“(Y/n)…” Vi whispers the name, barely above a breath, as if saying it out loud will somehow make it real, bring back the girl she thought she had lost forever. “She’s… grown.”

“We all have.”

His eyes flicker to Vi, his expression unreadable. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words, but nothing feels quite right. He knows how this is going to land—knows it’s going to hurt, even though he wishes it didn’t have to be this way.

“I think she saw you and Caitlyn,” he says quietly. “Together, I mean.”

Vi’s body stiffens at the mention of Caitlyn’s name, her eyes snapping to Ekko in disbelief. The shock is instant, followed by a sharp pang of guilt that twists in her chest. Her mind races, trying to make sense of the situation—of the way you had looked at her, of how you had walked out without saying anything more, as if something between the two of you had shattered. And now this. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words get stuck, tangled in her throat.

Ekko slumps back in his chair, his fingers tapping restlessly against the worn surface of his desk. He doesn’t know what to say to either of them. His gaze remains fixed on Vi, her posture still stiff, eyes distant.

���She thinks you’re together…” Ekko looks at Vi with curiosity. “Are you?”

Vi’s heart stutters in her chest, and she looks away quickly, swallowing hard.

“No,” she answers, almost too quickly. “No, we’re not together.”

Her voice wavers slightly, the truth of her feelings suddenly coming to the surface, uninvited but undeniable. Caitlyn is kind and gentle, but it’s never been like that with her. She only met her this week. Vi doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not love—not like what she’s felt, and still feels, for you.

The kiss was… a moment of comfort, of trying to hold onto something familiar in a world that’s changed beyond recognition. It meant nothing. Or at least, it shouldn’t have meant anything. But now, knowing that you’d seen it, knowing that it might hurt you—it stings. And it stings more than she’s willing to admit.

Ekko watches her for a moment and sighs. He knows Vi well enough to see that flicker of something in her eyes, that far-off look, the hesitation that’s always there when she’s thinking about you.

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he mutters, “But you do need to talk to her.”

Vi nods slowly, her gaze flicking toward the door again.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, almost as if to herself. “I know. I just… I don’t know what to say. It’s been so long, Ekko.”

Ekko exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair. “She looked for you, you know. She hasn’t stopped. And she’s been alone for a long time too, Vi. She deserves to hear it.”

Vi doesn’t respond. The words hit her harder than she’s willing to admit. She knows Ekko’s right, but the fear of rejection still clings to her like a shadow. She’s afraid of what will happen if she faces you, afraid of seeing that disappointment in your eyes, hearing the anger in your voice. Afraid that even if she tries, it won’t be enough.

She takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settling in her chest.

“I’ll go find her.”

The climb to the top of the tree feels longer than it should, but Vi knows she’s stalling. Her hands grip the wooden edges tighter than they need to as she hauls herself up, each rung feeling like a step closer to a moment she’s not sure she’s ready for. Ekko’s words still echo in her head—She’s probably already up there, and needs the space, but… she deserves to hear from you.

And now, standing at the edge of the makeshift platform high above the Firelights’ hideout, Vi spots you. You’re sitting near the edge, your legs dangling over, one hand resting loosely on the ground for balance. The jukebox below hums softly, sending the faint notes of a melancholy tune drifting up through the cool night air. The lights of the community twinkle far beneath you, and the laughter and chatter of the people below seem like they belong to another world entirely.

Vi freezes for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. You haven’t noticed her yet, and she’s glad for it because it gives her time to take you in.

It’s been years since she’s seen you like this—quiet, lost in your own world. There’s something familiar in the way you tilt your head as you gaze out at the lights below, something achingly reminiscent of the person she remembers from all those years ago. She can’t help but wonder if you’re still the same in other ways, too. If you still laugh at dumb jokes, or hum to yourself when you’re deep in thought. If you still carry that kindness in your heart, despite everything the world’s thrown at you.

But there’s also something different, something that makes her chest ache. You look older. Wiser, maybe. More beautiful than she remembers, though she feels like that’s impossible, because she’s always thought you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

God, you’re beautiful. The thought hits her so suddenly that it makes her chest ache. It’s not just the way you look, though that alone would be enough to leave her speechless. It’s everything about you—the way you seem so untouchable and yet so heartbreakingly human all at once. She feels like a fool for standing here and staring, but for the life of her, she can’t seem to look away.

And then there’s the way the moonlight catches on your face, illuminating the faint shimmer of unshed tears in your eyes. Vi doesn’t even need to see your expression to know what you’re feeling.

For a long moment, she just stands there, unsure of what to do or say. She wants to run to you, to pull you into her arms and tell you she’s sorry, that she’s here, that she’s not going anywhere this time. But she knows it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple.

Finally, she takes a hesitant step forward, her boots making a soft thud against the wooden planks. You stiffen slightly, your head turning just enough to catch her in your peripheral vision. You don’t say anything, but the way your shoulders tense tells her you’ve already guessed it’s her.

Vi hesitates again, her heart pounding in her chest as she moves to sit beside you. She doesn’t get too close, leaving enough space between you that you won’t feel trapped, but close enough that she can see the way your fingers grip the edge of the platform like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

For a few seconds, the silence between you is unbearable. Vi glances at you from the corner of her eye, her mouth opening as if to speak, but the words don’t come. She’s never been good at this—talking about feelings, finding the right thing to say.

But as she watches you, she knows she has to try.

“Nice spot you’ve got here,” she says, her voice softer than she intended. “It’s quiet… Beats the chaos down there.”

It’s not much, and she knows it. She winces at how lame she sounds, but she’s not sure she trusts herself to say anything more. She’s afraid if she does, it’ll all come tumbling out—the guilt, the regret, the years of wondering what could’ve been if she hadn’t been taken, if she’d fought harder, if she’d found a way back sooner.

You don’t respond right away, and she can’t tell if it’s because you’re ignoring her or because you just don’t know what to say either. She glances at you again, her eyes lingering on the curve of your jaw, the way your lashes cast faint shadows against your cheeks.

You’re so close, but it feels like there’s an entire world between you.

When you finally do speak, your voice is so soft, almost drowned out by the music drifting up from below. “It’s always been my place to think. To get away… I have Ekko to thank for it.”

Your words are simple, but they carry so much weight, and Vi feels the knot in her chest tighten. She wonders what you’ve been thinking about up here all this time. If you’ve been thinking about her. If you’ve been wondering where she’s been, what she’s been doing, why she never came back.

“I can see why,” Vi says, trying to keep her tone light even though her heart is pounding. “It’s got a hell of a view.”

She means the lights, of course, the way they twinkle below like stars scattered across the ground. But as she says it, she realizes she’s not looking at the lights at all. She’s looking at you.

You finally turn to look at her, and the look in your eyes nearly breaks her. There’s so much there—pain, anger, sadness—but there’s something else, too. Something softer. Something she doesn’t think she deserves but hopes for anyway.

“I didn’t think you’d come up here,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi looks at you, her throat tight, and she wishes she had the courage to tell you the truth. That she’s here because she couldn’t stay away. That she misses you.

Instead, she just nods, her voice low and a little rough when she finally speaks. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.”

You look away again, your gaze returning to the lights below, and Vi knows she should say more, but she’s afraid. Afraid of making things worse. Afraid of losing whatever small chance she might have left to fix things.

She looks at you softly, “How have you been?”

You don’t answer right away.

The silence lingers. Vi shifts slightly, her body aching to close the distance, to somehow make things right, but she doesn’t move.

Then, it’s you who breaks the quiet after a short while, your voice soft and tentative, almost as if speaking too loudly might shatter the everything around you.

“It’s hard to think about you in prison,” you say, the words stumbling out of you before you can stop them.

Vi stiffens at the mention of it. Her chest tightens, as though she’s been struck, but she doesn’t look at you, doesn’t dare.

“I know it must’ve been hard,” you continue, your gaze still locked on the flickering lights below. “Being in there… for so long. I can’t even imagine how it felt. It must’ve been… suffocating.”

Vi can hear the way you say it, that compassion in your voice that makes her want to crumble. You’ve always been so gentle, even when the world around you was anything but.

The memories are sharp, jagged shards of regret that pierce her chest whenever she lets herself think about it. The days in that cold, lonely cell feel like a lifetime ago, but the scars—physical and emotional—are still fresh. The world had felt like a cruel, unyielding force back then. Every day in prison, every blow to her body, every quiet, restless night, had worn away the person she used to be. She couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be carefree or loved.

“I was so… lost,” Vi mutters quietly, her voice rough from the weight of years. “I spent so long… thinking about all of you, of Powder… of the mistakes I made. If i had just… If I hadn’t stepped away for one moment, maybe I would’ve still been here… Here with Powder…. Here with you.”

You glance at her then, just a flicker of movement, your eyes soft with something like pity—but more than that, something else that Vi doesn’t have the courage to name. She knows you see her now, not the image of the girl who left, but the one who came back. The one who is trying—trying, at least—not to destroy everything around her with the weight of her mistakes.

Vi’s voice breaks the silence again, this time with something raw in it, something almost painful. She shifts slightly, her hand twitching by her side, wanting to reach out but holding herself back.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was in there,” she says quietly, her eyes searching your face for any sign of recognition. “The thought of you… It helped get through most of my nights. I tried to dream of you... tried to imagine what you were doing, where you were… how you’ve grown... how much prettier you probably got. I kept telling myself, ’Maybe when I get out, maybe when I find a way out, I’ll find you again.’”

She stops, her gaze falling to the ground between you both as if ashamed to even say it aloud, as if admitting the depth of her thoughts all these years will somehow make them real. But it’s there, the longing she’s buried in the back of her mind, too painful to confront but too strong to ignore.

Vi continues, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “I wondered if you thought of me, if you looked for me. If you still cared… if I even mattered to you anymore.”

You stay silent as she speaks, your chest tight with something you can’t explain. The words sting in a way you’re not prepared for, like a wound reopened, and yet there’s something strangely soothing about them, too. The fact that Vi—after everything, after all this time—had thought of you… It almost doesn’t seem real.

But you say nothing, your gaze fixed ahead, unable to meet her eyes. You wonder if it’s better this way. If silence is all you have left to offer her now. Maybe it’s easier to listen than to speak, to keep everything bottled up inside where it won’t spill over and make a mess of things.

Vi takes a deep breath, her eyes shifting between the two of you, silently asking for something, anything that might make her feel less alone in this moment. But you don’t give her the answer she’s hoping for.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The wind brushes past you, making the leaves rustle in the trees around the hideout. Below is quiet, almost peaceful, and the sound of distant voices and music fades into the background.

Vi watches you carefully, her eyes searching for something in yours, but she doesn’t push. She knows better than that. She knows that the years have changed you, just as much as they’ve changed her. She knows she can’t expect you to just forget everything, to instantly trust her again. But she hopes, more than anything, that there’s still something left between you both, something that could grow again.

“I saw you with her,” you say. “Ekko said her name is Caitlyn.”

Vi’s eyes widen at the mention of Caitlyn, her heart stopping for just a moment. The words seem to hang in the air between you both, heavy and charged. She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out at first, as if the truth of its too much to swallow.

You feel her hesitation, the way she tenses, and it hits you in a way you weren’t prepared for. It feels like a sharp, cold pang in your chest. There’s a rawness in your voice that you didn’t even realize was there.

The way you say it feels like it cuts through the silence between you both. Vi looks at you then, eyes wide, searching, but she doesn’t speak. She knows she owes you an answer, but what answer could she give you? How could she explain everything that’s happened in the time between your separation and now?

After what feels like an eternity, Vi swallows hard, her throat tight. She looks away, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

“It’s not what you think,” she says softly, almost too quietly, the words coming out slow and hesitant. “I… I didn’t want it. She was just… trying to comfort me.”

Vi’s mind drifts back to Caitlyn, and she can’t help but sigh. She thinks Caitlyn’s a good person—for someone from topside. There’s a softness to her, a kindness that reminds Vi of the people she used to know back when things were simpler, when she wasn’t caught between the rubble of the Lanes and the ghosts of her past. But despite Caitlyn’s goodness, Vi knows one thing, something deep in her heart that she can’t escape: no one could ever be you.

No one could replace you. The girl she grew up with, the girl she used to dream about, the girl who haunted her thoughts long after she had fallen asleep. Vi’s chest tightens at the thought. The kiss with Caitlyn, the one you saw—it’s nothing more than a hollow moment, something that never should’ve happened. She wanted it to be you.

Vi shudders slightly. The kiss, the way Caitlyn’s lips felt against hers, it was nothing like the memories of you. Nothing like the way your hand used to fit in hers, how your laugh could fill a room with warmth, how you made her feel like she was worth something. Caitlyn could never make her feel the same way you made me feel, could never replace the way you made her feel alive, like everything in her life had a purpose.

“I couldn’t…” Vi murmurs to herself quietly. “I couldn’t feel that for anyone except you.”

Her hand slowly reaches out, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brush against yours. Her touch is gentle, careful, despite the roughness of her calloused palms, worn from years of fighting, of surviving. She holds your hand like she’s afraid you’ll slip away, like if she lets go, you’ll disappear, and she’ll be left with nothing but the echoes of a time she can never get back.

Your eyes instinctively shift to your hands, the same hands you once held as children. You remember how easy it was, how natural it felt when you were younger, sitting side by side in the dirt or on the roof of the Last Drop, fingers intertwined like nothing could ever pull you apart. Back then, it felt like the world was small, and nothing could hurt you as long as you were together.

But now—now, everything has changed.

Her fingers curl around yours, and the warmth of her touch sends a wave of memories flooding back—soft laughter, secret glances, the way her eyes would linger on you when she thought you weren’t looking. You blink, trying to keep the rush of emotions in check, but it’s hard when every inch of you feels like it’s trembling.

Vi’s eyes flicker to the ground below for a moment, her cheeks suddenly flushed, the soft red hue creeping up to her ears. It was that same familiar blush that’d show during the times she’d gift you a tiny present from those adventurous jobs she was in. She’s so close now, you can hear her breath hitch slightly as if she’s gathering the courage to speak words that she’s kept locked away for far too long.

“I’ve always loved you, you know,” she said finally. “I never got the chance to tell you…”

The words tumble from her mouth, quiet and unsteady, but every one of them feels like it’s been etched into her soul for years. She looks up at you, the faint redness still coloring her face as she holds your hand.

“I’d really like to make for the time I lost with you.”

The noise from the jukebox below, faint music playing through the speakers, the distant chatter of the Firelights—it all fades away, drowned out by the thundering silence between you both. You stare at her, your heart racing, a million thoughts running through your mind, but none of them can fully process the weight of what she’s just said. You feel the tears burn at the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You just stare at her—really look at her—like you haven’t in years.

Vi’s ears are bright red now, her gaze flicking away nervously. She’s never been good with things like this, always hiding behind her strength, her toughness.

And now, it’s all laid out in front of you.

She’s always loved you.

You swallow hard, your hand squeezing hers as you finally manage to find your voice, even though it feels as if it’s been taken from you for so long. You’re not sure if you want to speak, if you’re ready to speak, but it doesn’t matter.

A single tear slips down your cheek, catching in the moonlight that spills across the roof. You huff, your breath shaky, and quickly turn your head, trying to wipe it away before Vi can see.

But you’re not quick enough.

Vi’s blue eyes are already on you, her gaze soft, understanding, and something deeper, something tender that makes your heart ache even more. She doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you quietly, her thumb gently brushing over your knuckles as she holds your hand tighter.

The silence stretches between the two of you, but it doesn’t feel heavy. It feels like the beginning of something, something you both need but are too afraid to admit.

“You’re such an idiot,” you murmur, your voice unsteady as you try to hide the way your chest tightens.

You shake your head, still unable to fully meet her gaze, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. The sting of the tear on your cheek fades as you try to swallow down the lump in your throat, but it’s useless.

Vi’s lips twitch, just a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She’s always known how to make you smile, even when everything else around you seemed to be falling apart. Now, it’s the same thing. She’s still that person who knows how to make your heart feel lighter, even in times like this.

“I know.”

Her voice is soft, almost teasing, but there’s no mockery in it, only the acceptance of your words—because she’s heard them before. She’s known, deep down, that you always thought she was an idiot, that she was reckless, that she made mistakes.

But none of that mattered.

She’s always loved you. And you’ve always known it, even if you didn’t want to admit it at first.

She scoots closer to you, the space between you shrinking as she leans in, her body warm against yours. You can feel the weight of her presence beside you, the soft strength that always made you feel safe. Her hand tightens around yours, pulling it into her lap, and you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as if you can’t bear to look at her yet.

But her touch reminds you of who you were before everything fell apart, before the years, the distance, and the pain.

“I know,” she repeats softly, her smile growing. She brings your hand up to her lips, softly pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, the red still staining her ears as she nudges you with her shoulder.

“But I’m your idiot.”

And you want to laugh, want to smile and tease her like you used to, but instead, you just sit there. Just breathe.

Vi is here. She’s real. And she’s never stopped loving you.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re ready to love her back the way she’s always wanted you to.

ty for reading! | masterlist

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Ask me, my prince. What a storm is to a dragon.❞

[ Aemond can only breathe through your lungs, through your adoration and love. But when betrayal is nigh, what does it truly beget? ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 6,935 ] | Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader, minor, sort of (not really) Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers.

THIS IS A DARK FIC. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

contains— angsty, smut - DD:DNE: kidnapping, coercion, manipulation, possessive & obsessive behaviour, power imbalance, violence (not to reader) (a little bit to reader... i wrote this too close to book canon!aemond), murder, death, massacre, war - canon typical targcest, canon character deaths, canon divergence - dark!aemy - pregnancy, child, allusions to infidelity, mentions of bastard - i took liberties with canon (as i usually do) - #ripellyn you (sorta) will be missed shshs - the only specific reader descript. i did is the baratheon dark hair ok? ok - nsfw: male masturbation, dubcon/noncon, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— there was this villain playlist on yt that was slowed and sexy, and my brain just. clicked. here it is if you wanna check. the real reason this is long is cos i can't help but add backstory ok? ok. lol. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

Storms have always been your favourite view in any window.

It is cliche to say, a proud daughter of the Stormlands, of course she enjoys the dark skies! But you do. There is nothing short of comforting in the rolling, fat clouds darkened in shadows. Occasionally, if the weather moved to your whim, lightning danced between plumes before you hear the boom and crack of it striking.

"It is a privilege to enjoy weathers such as these," your father once said, a hand on your darkened hair, a bluer tint to it, but Baratheon through and through. "It is our might that holds us at paramount, and thus, our privilege beckons warm fires and strong, stone fortresses to watch it all in comfort. To find enjoyment in the dark skies."

"Ours is the Fury," you replied immediately. Your father smiled.

"That, precisely. The paramount of our might and power is one we have taken and given with fury. Never forget."

"Even better than the Targaryens?" Your father's displeasure crumpled his face, and you were at an old enough age to understand his displeasure was not something you enjoy. But you had been learning all day, and the topic that day with your septa had been House Targaryen. You had learned the King's name, that he had a Queen that died, and that his heir is a girl.

His hold on your shoulders was heavy, but you do not flinch. Eyes bore into your own as if he was speaking the words into existence.

"We are the blood of the Kings too, my daughter. The White Hart proves our mark in the world, long before the dragonlords ever whispered in these lands. And what are dragons against the dance of storms?"

You had been little then, no more than six. The smallest of your sisters; Floris, though short in stature, looked elongated. A beauty. A fawn in the making. And your father is not the cleverest of men, but his words shelved itself in the corners of your brain. It eased and assuaged your fears like a quick spell.

Your spine straightens and your chin tilts upward. You are made of fury and storms, the blood of kings of old and solid, impenetrable fortresses.

You fury is your own, and 'neathe your fingers, under your very being, is a storm.

A good reminder, as when you had exchanged childhood for girlhood, a missive had been sent by the Queen Alicent Hightower, requesting for a daughter from Lord Baratheon's Four Storms, as companion for the Princess Helaena.

"Cassandra would do well."

"She hungers, husband. I am afraid of what might happen if we send her to the courts at her age. I do not yearn for a scandal."

"She would not shame her family so, do you reckon?"

"She is the eldest. You know how she is."

A sigh. "If she had a cock, she would be a good heir for my seat."

"Borros!"

"Apologies. Very well, mayhaps a good husband with no grit to him would do her well. She will lead the Stormlands by the hold of his— er, well, yes. Maris? She is clever."

"Far too clever. Even her tongue irks you, no. Definitely not. Her brain works too fast for her mouth. She will say the wrong thing and end us in war."

"You exaggerate, surely."

"I bore them, Borros, but they are your daughters. They live and breathe with your name and your House's banner under their own. What do you think? Bad enough they take so much of your heritage with them, and their looks, but they also plucked and chosen parts of you I'd rather not have for lady daughters."

Your father grumbles incoherently, you laugh under your breath.

"... Floris is too young. So..." The last one. You. You press your ear harder against the wood of your father's study, heart in your throat.

"She will be best," she says softly, insistently. She knows in her heart of hearts that though her husband is a hard, proud man, he has a softened heart for you. "Though she is clever, she minds herself well. Polite. Kind. She will do well with the Princess and her, er, eccentricities."

"Bloody weirdoes, the lot of them." A sigh. Another chastise from your mother, but she too, sounds exhausted. It has almost been a moon since the missive has been sent. Another one is bound to arrive, more order than request. It is all a political game. Princess Rhaenyra had no Baratheon ward under her court when she still resided in Kings Landing, for you and your sisters had been too young and your father had no sister. It is by chance that gives the Green Queen advantage to take a ward under your father's banner now, with a daughter she seeks to be Queen Consort.

"Send her then," your father announces. Though defeat clouds his voice, the Lord in him speaks each vowel clearly. "She will do best to represent the House out of them all. We might have a betrothal in our hands soon enough."

"She is pretty enough for a prince."

An angry snort. "She is more than pretty enough for a prince. Far better than the lot of them."

Softly, "That is because you like her best."

"Why would I not?" your father replies gruffly, making you smile. "A storm grinds and brews inside of her, wife. Even Maestre Loes, the old gnat that he is, sees my bloodline thick in her. Even if the King asks for her hand at this very moment, I would refuse. I would throw him off Storm's End with a smile on my face and a boot on his back."

You fight off a snort as your mother grumbles about treason and Maris.

"She is far better than the best of them." Another sigh. Heavier. "Why are we sending her?"

Your mother sighs. "Because as she is the best of them, she is the best of us. She will survive far better in that cesspit they call a keep than any of our daughters. Her storm can tame dragons."

You would argue that that too is treasonous given the context, but your father merely laughs. His laughter is a crackle and a boom.

"I would upheave our coffers to witness that."

Though you find her odd, you enjoy spending your time with the Princess Helaena. Mostly, she is quiet, in her own little world. Though it took time to get used to her many-legged friends, you soon realised the best times you spend with her are when shipments and gifts of pinned butterflies and books that have reached as far as Yi-Ti, to get to Kings Landing about bugs, and undeniable excitement unfurls in the Princess' face. More like a girl, a sweet one.

It makes her already cherub features appear more child-like, and she grasps your hand voluntarily as she points at each and every critter she recognises. It is so very rare to see true happiness in the princess' visage, and in her enjoyment, you see your sisters.

That is how you meet him, the Prince Aemond.

Princess Helaena had gone for tea with the Queen. It had not been planned. Though she often spent tea with family, either the Queen or the Lord Hand, or either of the Princes. Something had occurred, so now that Princess was having tea with her Queen Mother and her husband. If you had to guess, it was likely that Prince Aegon was being punished in some way.

Though there is no love lost between siblings, it makes you sniff at how blatant the prince's obscene indulgent for vices are. Princess Helaena didn't mind, rather, she didn't care unless they needed to spend time together, a clockwork patch of routine, and that was when you usually came in— you later realised, your primary job — soothing her nerves and distracting her thoughts before she had to enter her marriage chambers.

There is a resigned defeat in her, a woman's duty bearing down, looming like the Mother, and it makes you want to soothe her harder. Make her laugh.

With the change of plans, it was up to you to check for the new shipments of the Princess' things. A dictated note in your hand of the princess' handwriting, you were going through her boxes when a hand, gloved, rests on your shoulder.

"Do not move," a cool voice says behind you. Far too close for propriety.

You freeze. "Pardon?"

"I do not want to scare you, my lady, but there is a critter atop your head." The cool, calm voice waves off a steady rhythm to your heart, calming it further from the earlier panic of someone laying a hand on you (although this, is still not better. You are a lady and unmarried after all). "I will rid of it immedi—"

"No."

"... Pardon?"

"Where is it? Just atop my head?"

"... Yes?"

"It maybe poisonous, pease do not touch it." Before the owner of the hand and the calm voice could react, you pat your head until you touch a hairy, small thing with many legs. Relief spreads. "There you are."

"There you are?" The voice says, almost mocking, incredulously.

You huff, taking the spider in both of your hands, before you tilt your chin behind you, only seeing the gloved hand. "Please take your hand away from me."

The hand retreats. You turn.

Valyrian features are most uncommon than your own, and the jolt of recognising the pale, white hair is a strike to your being, a gasp falling from your lips. It is the one-eyed mask that tells you immediately who it is, but you string everything else you know of the prince.

Prince Aemond had been travelling to Oldtown, a visit requested by the Queen in the guise of seeing family, his brother. But there had been whispers of something more, as the chatter of the maids who cleaned up in the King's quarters talked about how ill he got day by day.

You had seen flashes of him before this, but fate had kept you two apart. You were not there when he visited the princess— on another errand or two, and he starkly ever looked at the ladies surrounding his sister with a vehement light as their voices, high pitched and dreary, tire him so on a good day, increasingly irritating on a bad one, and anyway, the silence that falls in a stone room just from his arrival is enough to irk him.

But here is he now, with one eyebrow rose, a good eye of icy blue iris, and the very visage of a warrior in black leathers, a braided hair pulled to one side, and pursed lips in both amusement and annoyance.

He hums. The sound kicks back your manners, blushing lightly at having gaped at him for far longer than pleasantry dictates, and you pull yourself into a bow.

"My apologies, my prince, I didn't know it was you. I was scared you were going to hurt the Princess' new friend."

"They are bugs," he says steadily. "Not her friends."

"Like so, but just because they have many a legs do not mean we cannot befriend them." A small smile plays on your lips before you place back the spider in the cage he got out of. It is something you had once said to the princess to make her laugh. You feel his stare burn at the side of your face. "Is there a matter, my prince?"

"You are the Lady Baratheon, are you not?"

"I am." A small, ironic smirk tugs at your lips. "Is it the hair?"

He makes a soft sound that exhales like a laugh out of closed lips. He's still quite close, you can feel his warmth and idly wonder if all Targaryens truly do have the blood of the dragons in them for you can feel the contours of him, burning at the edges of his being. Like a comforting little furnace.

"Hm. And the princess has taken quite the liking to you. You are all she talks about during sup."

You can't help it, you're smiling. So many rumours concerning the young prince, not all of them good, but there is a certain novelty in basking under the attention of a prince of the realm. A Valyrian beauty that brought an ethereal glow to him. As so intently stares, catching pieces and niches as if you are the most fascinating creature.

The attention makes you feel like a blushing lady.

"My apologies then, my prince."

He cocks his head, the braid dipping and you catch the movement in your peripheral. "Whatever for my lady?"

You turn to him, unable to curb the cheek to your smile. "For interrupting better conversations with the topic of my name plaguing your sups so."

His mouth twists into a smirk. In Aemond's mind, it is not oft that ladies, especially Helaena's ladies, would care to... flirt with him. Because this is you flirting, is it not? The coy gaze, the curl at the edge of your lips? Aemond has seen these faces in ladies and maids alike, but directed at others. At Aegon.

Directed at Aemond... bereave to keep their conversations to themselves, and though it is not always a fault of theirs for his stoicism is his most valued armour, one would resign oneself of an arranged marriage that will take long moons before his lady wife would see the truest him, that he would not be able to experience such... coy conversations with the opposite sex.

Yet here you are, a light dust of red in your cheeks, a quirk in your mouth, and the playful joust in your eyes, daring him into a swords' dance.

It is thrilling.

"Plaguing is too harsh of a word to say so about a lady of your stature, Lady Baratheon." He steps closer, aware of propriety standards of how close two unwedded people should be, but he feels intoxicated of the whiff of life exhuming from your visage. A light citrus, oranges? Lemons? Tart and sweet, with a powdery finish. It is so very ladylike.

Addicting.

The perfect smell for a lady wife, a musing thought.

"Is that so?"

"Intriguing, I would say, would be the better word."

You laugh, low and sweet. It sends a pleasant warm to his centre. "I'm afraid my memory is failing for I do not remember any wily adventure or conversation the princess and I had for a prince of the realm to say I intrigue him so."

"It is less... about wily adventures or interesting conversations that pique my interest, but the lady herself." His eye, though lone, the other remaining hidden behind an eyepatch with hints of scarred, twisted skin underneath, bore against yours as if he wished to gather all your strings and see what each would give him. What you would show him.

"I'm afraid to disappoint you, my prince, but I still fail to see how I can ever so pique your interest." You meet his gaze, smirking. "I am just me."

Before he can answer, step forward— whatever, he is staring at the curve of your lips so, at the enchanting shimmer of your eyes, and Aemond Targaryen felt breathless — your named is called, and the spell is broken. The prince steps back, taking more space between you that is more appropriate.

His hand flexes.

But that is not the last you see of the prince, nor the last time you are able to hold a conversation with him. It seems that since then, you find yourselves orbiting each other in the fringes before one steps forward and engages. There seems to be a band that tightens either of you so obsessed with seeing the other in the periphery, the topic whatever may came, even as inane as the weather.

It is a dance of swords, kissing blades of sharp quips and interesting parry. You are interesting. Beguiling. Devouring. Aemond searches for you in most places now, unable to stop himself from asking his dearest sister about you— even his mother and grandsire have taken notice, eyebrows rose between shared looks.

"House Baratheon is of a Great House," his mother hesitantly brought up, too focused on her soup for it to just be idle chatter above sup.

"It is." His forced passivity is not as apathetic as he can make it. For any mention of you and your origins thrums his heart in a dance.

"And the Lady Baratheon has many admirers, a kind and dutiful lady, and Helaena likes her so."

He turned to his mother then, humming. At the barest hint of a smile in her son's face, Alicent beamed.

But others from court also soon took notice, and when Aemond realises the wagging tongues had come to note your name— unkind whispers besmirching your person, he disappears from you altogether.

The differences become stark to him; realising what a foolish endeavour it is to want you. Though he is a prince, he is mutilated, a monster that will ruin you. You are too good for him, a warmth he had forgone in the face of misery, apathy, and hatred. The urge to conquer your every thought and sound, from your fingertips to the top of your hair... it is a gasping thought, one he shamefully sins at the blackest hours, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of what you had looked like that day. The sound of your laughter, the pull of your lips when you smiled, the gasp you let out when you touched water that had been too cold— his mind bends and moves, and images of you, images that he will have to pray for the in morrow but cannot stop—

Moves him to completion, a strangle grunt of your name from his lips.

And yet, every night since, it happens again and again.

The more he pulled away from you, the more he wanted you. It is a debase urge, one more fit for his drunken cur of a brother than he, more creature than man.

But he cannot stop, so the torturous cycle continues.

Until you've had enough.

You know that during hours of inky night, the prince prefers the sanctum of the library. Not always, and lately, not often, but if there are a few things you learned in the hunting trips your father brought you that your mother never approved of, is that lying in wait, patient, deals a hand much better.

And on the fourth day of your waiting, your hair in a braid, a book on your lap, and a small candlelit close by as to not alert any spooked princes— the door opens at the Hour of Eel, the familiar and sorely missed footfalls of a quiet but sure-footed prince enters.

You admire him for a moment, hidden as you are, your stare drinks in the ever smooth of his twilight-spun hair, those pursed lips and straight lines. He's lithe but you know, having been offered his arm on every walk, he is made of hard muscle. Aemond always walks so smoothly, like a panther, or a gazelle, with the barest hint of austre he can never hide.

It's the prince in him, you giggle to yourself.

A sweet pang in your chest is the reminder of how much you missed his presence. And that ends tonight.

With his back turned, perusing a shelf, you shuffle and make yourself known with a soft, almost admonishing voice.

"Good eve, my prince."

He stiffens, hand poised against a spine of a tome. He barely turns, only his head to the floor, in the general direction of you. "My lady. I did not expect you to be here."

Frustrated, you sigh loudly. "Have I offended you so horribly? Dishonoured you in some way?"

"What?"

"Why can't you even look at me, Aemond?"

A sharp intake of breath. When he speaks again,his voice is changed. "You forget yourself, my lady."

There is an ache to your being, pursuing your lips. "You had given me permission with your given name, my prince, or have you forgotten?" Anger overcomes propriety. Fuck propriety. You charge toward him, heavy, angered steps until you're close enough. "Can't you at least look at me, look at me as you push me away as if I amnothing—"

He turns abruptly, one eye flashing as he grasps your elbows in a grip. His eyes zero in on your lips as a gasp falls, eyes widen— if you could see better, you'd notice the darkened gaze drinking you in. Your widened eyes, your open lips— and Sevens, only a robe hides your nightgown, the smooth expanse of your skin is more bare to him than ever before.

His beautiful, beloved stag.

"You have never been nothing to me, nēdenka riña brave girl," he hisses. "Konir sagon se drīve That is the reason."

"Prince A-Aemond?" you say. He is against the shadows of the moonlight, only his hands holding your own is illuminated.

A wrangled exhale falls from his lips. You follow the sound, worried.

"Are you? Injured? Are you okay?"

"I have not been okay for the moment I met you," he rasps, hands bruising in his hold.

"Well. Gods. I'm sorry. If it's such a offense—"

"It is an offence!" he growls, pulling you abruptly that you yelp, bathed in shadows and darkness together, your eyes adjust as you scramble to have thoughts apart from just being this close to him. Hearing a voice you had never heard of him before, untethered from his princely visage, from manners and proper, and it makes you burn.

The thoughts of wanting him close, of taking more of that space until you are chest to chest are blushing thoughts.

But there is honour still, for he holds you at least an arm's away.

"I have wanted you the moment I have laid eyes on you," he whispers, voice rough, exhausted. "And each day I spend with you, each hour— my honour stands in shambles, in ruins at my feet for I want you as a man wants a woman. Honourably and... and carnally."

You swallow, and he follows the movement like a predator tracking his prey. The blush in your cheeks, the way your lips press together as if you are just as starved of him as he to you— oh, you want him too, don't you?

One hand moves from your elbow to slowly reach up. Your arms, your collarbones, your neck. A thumb brushing your cheek and your eyes flutter.

Aemond wants to devour you.

"You plague me so, and I crave you."

"Then have me," you sigh.

His eye closes. "I cannot sully—"

You grasp his neck, bringing your mouth close to his. "You cannot sully what is freely given. If you crave me, I want you."

Honour unbound, a snap is tightened by the hunger that uncoils from a dragon that wants you. Aemond had grabbed the back of your head, tangled his fingers, and made a mess of your mouth.

Gasps and teeth, touching skin from where you can feel it— touching skin from where you unbuckle, tear through hem and push against cloth. When he slams you again the shelf, a moan so lewd falls from your lips that he groans, pulling your nightgown until he feels the heat from your very womanhood, and so, so wet, that when he flicks his thumb, curious and entranced, moving it around experimentally, you are a mess of sound and feeling, gasping his name, A-aemond, oh gods, please, and he is whispering, forgive me, f-forgive me, like love letters, like penitent, like a kiss from a traitor so wrong but so tasteful against your skin as he pulls himself from his confinements, holds you steady, and breaches your tight cunt.

Just before a scream tears through your throat, he devours your sound, holding you steady, until the pain bleeds pleasure and you are holding him like an anchor in dangerous seas. You cannot think or feel anyone else but him; what you are and who you are do not stand a chance as Aemond Targaryen swallows your senses.

It is harsh and fast, it is sweet and devouring, and more, more, more, you don't know what you're begging him, you feel like a devout and he feels like a god, grunting against your skin, biting through anything his teeth grazes. When he shifts you at an angle, finding a spot that feels like a lightning striking through your entire being, you are screaming, twitching, reaching a high so blinding it feels like white death.

"Is that it? That sweet spot?" he purrs, a breathless laugh, shocked and delighted drinking in your trembling and pleasure. "Your cunt is tight against my own, holding me like you never want to let go." You cry out when his cock hits that spot again. Your combined wetness makes an obscene squelch, just as pretty as the sound you utter. He smirks. "Can you hear that? Not even a whore can make a sound so sweet, hm?"

His teeth grazes your lips, sending shivers through your body as he licks the roof your mouth. "I want more of that sound. As your prince, you would grant me this, yes?"

But he isn't waiting for an answer, planting his feet and holding you steady, angling you back to that spot until he is snapping his hips, fucking into you as you can do nothing but beg and cry and tremble in the arms of a dragon taking what is his.

And you are.

You are his.

Maybe you had known it since then.

You definitely do when his seed floods your womb.

You want to say that that night was a fluke, a mistake that must be regretted. But once your gaze meets another, the fire burns, flickering and dancing, and it repeats. In quick fucks in dangerous spots, to slow, sweet love making in his room.

You are his, in mind, body and soul.

"Death is nothing but a friend," he murmurs against your neck, holding you close. Sweat cooling between your naked bodies. "It cannot stop me from finding you."

"I hope you say that to my father well," you tease.

" Marrying you is but the next step, my love. You are already mine as I am yours." He plays with your hair, brushing it past and kissing a bruise he made on your breast. "In face of every god and more, they will understand that we are but one soul."

You can plan the future in rose-coloured gaze for as much as you can, but the truth of marrying into a family with war brewing inside of it, held together by a dying king's hope and corpse fingertips— it is another matter entirely.

It all comes to a sharp clarity when Viserys I dies... and they keep his rotting corpse a secret.

And then they crown a whoremongering drunk.

"Aemond," you break into the silence, your entire being too cold for comfort. You had just come back from a privy council, a Green Council where the Queen had ordered you and your betrothed to reach Storm's End before the night fully breaks.

As if she knew where your loyalties are.

As if there is no question you will support the usurpation.

You turn to Aemond, busy with packing his things for they have bared the maids and people the of Keep. Because they are making Aegon as king and they know a revolt is underneath the floorboards.

"Aemond!"

"What? What has happened?" He looks confused, irritated. "We must make haste, my love, if we are to beat the storms at—"

"Princess Rhaenyra is Queen," you whisper but it could have been a scream. Saying it aloud gives you confidence, strengthening your resolved. You turn to him. "She is the King's heir, no one else. Aemond, this is an usurpation, unlawful in the eyes of—"

It takes little strides for him to reach you, for him to hold your neck in a tightened grip of warning.

"She," he spits, slow and careful as if you are a simpleton in need of teaching, "is a whore who is attempting to place her bastards on the Iron Throne. Rhaenys Targaryen held no chance of it, just as she. My brother is the firstborn son. He is king." His fingers dig into your skin. "You will do well as my wife to not speak of such blasphemy once more, do you understand?"

Your shock and fear melt from your visage, making way for compliance. You nod once. "Yes, my prince."

"Husband," he corrects, holding you much gentler but the weight of his hand is still there on your neck. A reminder. "Have you forgotten? We only come to Storm's End to officiate our union and your House's loyalty to the King. Once done, we will marry, yes?"

You nod, hands fisting. "Yes."

When he kisses you, harsh and needy, imprinting his will unto you— you close your eyes and plan how you make known to your Queen of their plots.

But Storm's End doesn't go as planned, does it?

Lucerys Velaryon, the Queen's son who had come as nothing more but an envoy for the rightful heir, and Aemond—what you thought to be your Aemond but a monstrous man who needed his revenge, who needed to draw blood for a grudge so deep, for an existence he finds so abysmal — had chased after him and came back to you bloodied, tearing up your dress, rutting in you in harsh, rough thrusts, as you listen to the storms from your window and think,

The Queen will never find his body. Her poor, sweet boy. Half in the belly of a beast, the rest spread and sunken into the water.

"I will not allow any marriage until the realm is at peace," your Lord Father rumbled with finality. He is not a smart man, truly, but he is a father. His gaze meets yours, full of meaning, of promises, before looking back at the seething prince. "You will have my bent knee for your king and for your war, but my daughter's hand shall be her own until the realm is at ease."

Your mother steps forward, her courtly smile on her face. "We want for her to have a grand wedding, my prince. She is the first of our charges to wed, and to a prince of the realm no less! By sure, at the time of war, we must err on the side of caution, as our coffers will no doubt focus on our troops. A future princess of the realm must be mindful, of course."

She bows in deference, your sisters following suit. Maris is the first to look up, defiance burning in her eyes.

You remember a conversation with him, feeling like a lifetime ago.

"Ask me, my prince," you teased. "What a storm is to a dragon. A creature is a creature. Even you must acquiesce to the way of nature for she has bowed to no one since her existence."

Aemond may be blood of the dragons, but he is surrounded by storms on all sides. The fiercest.

And your father will never marry you to a Kinslayer.

Yet you stay beside him, your duty now clearer than ever. Every new information you can grasp is sent back to the Queen and her council. In a courtier of the Greens and Traitors, you are the sole Black Stag. You use Aemond's adoration for you, his possessive obsession of what he thinks is love, as a protection and guise.

Any time he beds you, you sneak in moon tea. His bedding of you is just as much his hold on you and his defiance against your father's refusal. Once caught, you remind him he would not enjoy a bastard child. Especially at a time of war. Not after what they had done to his nephews.

"Do you want for me to suffer as your sister does?" The tears in your face then had not been a folly, for your heart broke for sweet Helaena and her sons. For Jaehaera. The world bleeds and bleeds, and all who die that reaches your ears are nothing more but innocents.

Aemond does not bed you after that, but he keeps you in his chambers, pulls you close as if he is trying to mould your skins as one. Times like this, your heart stutters. Your love to him and your morality as a person is at a test of swords.

You are in love with him,

He is a monster,

He has lost his nephews,

He has killed his own.

And it makes you wonder if you are a monster too, lying beside him as his bedmate, caring for him, wanting him still as his heart beats as your own, so connected to the umbilical of fate and chance while war rages, bodies falling all around you both, most from his own hand and word.

The war rages, and Harrenhal comes to view.

With it, a slaughter and a witch.

The worst of the massacre is the steely, lulling silence.

No one tells you that most of what an execution is that silence. That it amplifies each scream, each shout, each thick drop of a head as it falls on cobblestone. The sound is wet and a mouthful. Then it is nothing, consumed by that silence again.

You are locked in a room with a window that doesn't face the horror of what Aemond is doing. As if this is enough to shield you from what he is, what he truly is doing to win this war.

The worst part, committing genocide of an entire house is nothing more but a horrific grudge.

Strong blood spills, enough to make a lake.

By the time that night bleeds and a maid had entered with dinner to light a fire— your body is still so cold. No food has touched your stomach since the day before yet you retch.

Does loving a monster meant that you are just as monstrous?

Mayhaps it is still worth it, you muse in your silent madness, tears tracking your cheeks as the heaviness of your being stays. For who can say a monster can love you so monstrously? Who else can?

When Aemond comes back to you, freshly cleaned and a reminiscent of the prince that you loved, and he is making excuses of wanting you as you are, pawing at your clothes, you let him. You make love in the silence suffering from the massacre he had just finished. You hold him and kiss him in a desperation as you know this will be your ending.

That your Aemond is gone, or worse. He had never truly existed.

When you are both spent, satiated in a sweet glow, your head pleasantly quiet, he speaks about a plan.

A woman, a Strong witch, that promises him an assurance of winning with her sights and blasphemous magic. He had spared her among others, and that itself makes you look at him, truly look at him.

In exchange of what— for such things do not concede so easily as gratitude to mercy of one life, yes? Because desire devours itself. A snake eating itself.

"A child," he whispers against your battered head and bruised heart. "From my blood."

"A bastard," you murmur as he stiffens. "From a bastard Strong. Surely the irony is not lost on you? You have started this war by killing your bastard nephew, and you plan on ending it by fathering—"

"Do not question me," he says softly, grip tightening against your arms. Your eyes close, heavy with the weight of being a spy. Of loving him. "I will fuck a babe in her how many times it takes, and when the war is won, I will kill her and it. For your womb is the only place my lineage will live. I am doing this for the good of the realm. For us."

When he thinks you are asleep and leaves— you take your things and make haste to leave. Not once has your people left you in the arms of the kinslayer. Always one maid, always three guards from your father's army, loyal to only you.

You bundle up quick, and rush for the passage, you are blocked by a woman. Pale skin, dark hair, and eyes greener than wildfire. You know her before she speaks. You hold yourself to fight, and the witch of Harrenhal laughs.

"You have changed the tide of destiny, my lady." Her head tilts as if she can see past you and through you. "Once your choice has affirmed, your thread chosen, I cannot stand in the side of the One-Eyed Kinslayer without the Stranger coming for me. So instead, I will grant you one gift. One that will require no sacrifice."

"I do not want it."

"Ah, but it is a gift." She nods at your torso. "Your belly will soon take size, in it, his heir. You will not escape him as soon as he knows." Her head twists to the window. A raven flies. A storm grumbles. The sound comes first before the lightning strikes. A false storm. "Time is flowing, changing and twisting. He may have betrayed his kin, but he is still a prince. He will know soon."

Her green eyes glint as if she is seeing now and tomorrow. Now and a moon. Moon from a year. "You must run now. Hide and hide well."

You hold your stomach, bile rising in your throat. "Where? Where am I safe?"

A faint smile rises to her lips. "Your heir looks more like him than mine did. You will not escape him. But go north. As far North as you can. The fjords can hide him for a while. He will grow well there."

She moves away, letting you pass.

You never look back.

Dark locks. Baratheon hair.

A tuff of silver lock atop his head.

And the rest... his nose, his eyes. With your fingers, you pull his lids. Bloom in mullish blue with the faintest tint of iridescent violet. You know from your histories, that faint tint will overpower the blue.

Oh, he is utterly beautiful. Utterly yours. And utterly his father's son.

Rough breaths strangle out of your raw-bitten lips, brushing blood away from your babe's face, his head, his wet, silvery hair. Few they maybe, unmistakably Valyrian features they still are.

"Oh, he is beautiful," your mother murmurs, tears stain her cheeks. "Quiet as you were, as a babe. Looks just as much as you."

She is weighing his Valyrian features too. Your blood tried, but it seemed as if Aemond's grudge grasped your womb and affected your shared blood.

"We cannot stay," you say, still staring at him, admiring him. Your heart locking in place, steeling itself as you prepare to do your utmost to protect him. "We will have to travel posthaste."

Your mother swallows her grief. She had almost lost you. She will lose you again, now along with her only grandchild. "Where?"

"North. As far as North as we can."

Your mother nods. Ever a lady. "I will send a missive. The Lord Stark is loyal to the Queen and knows by how much you have sacrificed for this realm. He will protect you on his honour or he is no Stark."

You will need to hide. You will need to hide well.

You pull him close to your chest, hot tears freshly spilling from your eyes.

The witch had not lied, for your boy grew up amongst ice and warmth. He grows up with love from you, from the Lord Stark and his people, and love from his father in the way that he resembles him.

The slope of his nose, the sweet purse of his lips.

When your boy had gotten angry once, nothing but a quick burst, it shocks fear and tears from your eyes for you had seen the prince.Nothing more than a flash.

You pull him close and wound him to your heart as he cried, apologising for scaring you.

The North had granted you reprieve from the war as it came and went. Your betrayal to the Greens had mounted to the Black Queen's win. The betrayal of House Baratheon as House Stark and their bannermen joined the fray had squandered any rebellious thought on which sovereign will preside.

The last you heard of what became the Prince Regent was his surrender at the Battle Above God's Eye.

When you had cried that night, you did not know if it was from relief. Or fear.

But a black stag on white snow is easy to spot.

It takes years, yes, but the Stranger is but an old friend.

For when the day of your wedding to the Lord Stark arrives, a familiar screech of a dragon that your marrow will never forget— tolls the bell of death.

And when you looked up, snow swirling, holding onto your son that looked up in awe at the man who looked so much like him—

Aemond is smiling.

Sweet came the word— dracarys! — as Vhagar split her mouth opened and obeyed her rider.

What have I told you?

You are mine as I am yours.

In face of every god and more, they will understand that you and I are but one soul.

[luv-y0urself]

boynextdoor when they have crushes

boynextdoor x fem!reader genre: fluff, slice of life, mayhaps...? | wc: 2026 words | warnings: all sorts of tropes ahead !! all of the boys are the same age as the reader in the fic, although not mentioned :) 𖤐．thank you to the anon who requested this ! i'm so sorry it took this long to get out... i might've gotten a little carried away (psst... i didn't tell you this, but i might be using this as a small teaser for a future series...!)

boy #1: park sungho

to me, sungho genuinely feels like the type to fall for his childhood best friend. it’s the feeling of comfort that he feels with her that suddenly morphs into something more, y’know? he’s having a casual night out, grabbing a quick drink with his friend for successfully ending the semester in one piece when she shows up dressed with her hair done, makeup immaculate, and a dress that fits her curves perfectly and accentuates all the nice things about her. he can’t help but gape at her form once he lays eyes on her, and is dumbfounded for a few seconds before he’s able to murmur a soft compliment in her direction. she merely laughs it off, telling him that he looked rather dashing that night as well. it was common for them to care for each other in that way; they didn’t think of it much when they were complimenting each other… but on that night, at that moment, sungho meant every word. once sungho is able to fully mull over the situation (and fully realizes that he definitely has a crush on her), sungho would go out of his way to care for her. he’s always sending her texts (much more than usual), usually things like “your class starts soon, are you at school yet?” to things like, “don’t skip lunch even if you’re working.” he strikes me as the type to bring lots of sweets to his gal when mother nature decides to pay her a visit, or for him to cook her some of her favorite broth if she’s feeling under the weather. at one point, i feel like she would realize that sungho has changed a little bit; she asks the other friends in her group about it and her friends can’t help but smack their foreheads at how dense sungho’s crush is, then help sungho set something up for him to actually overcome the fear of losing his friend and confess to her.

boy #2: lee riwoo

to be completely honest, i feel like riwoo is the type to fall for a girl that he met at a dance competition. riwoo would be one of the judges, waiting for the last performance to go on stage and dance their hearts out. he’s beyond tired, having gotten at the site more than six hours ago, and having sat in his chair without moving for four of those six. but once she comes onto stage, riwoo would feel the spinning world stop. all he can see is her, dancing her heart out to the choreographed routine that she and her group mates put together for everybody to see. it’s unprofessional, really — riwoo should be watching the performance for all of the rubric points, but all he could focus on was the way that she moved; the way that she waltzed with the song, her arms elongated and her steps light but strong, hitting each beat with undeniable passion that she must’ve practiced with. riwoo isn’t able to do anything the day of, however — that would be even more unprofessional than how distracted he was during the performance. no, the real time he would be able to do something is when he holds a surprise pop up class with a limited number of students able to attend, and she’s one of them. when checking their form, i feel like riwoo’s eyes would subconsciously stay on her form for a little longer compared to the other students, and if she had a question, he answer it to the best of his ability, and then some. riwoo doesn’t strike me as the impulsive type, but with her in the room, i feel like he would change the choreo that he's teaching to a pair dance, choosing her in the room to dance with.

boy #3: myung jaehyun

god, myungjae would be the loudest guy out there once he has a crush. he definitely strikes me as the type of guy to go shouting in the group chat, saying that he just spotted the “goddess” of their school while walking around. he probably also wouldn’t waste any time beating around the bush; the very next time he spots her, he would probably go up to her and say some cheesy pick up line (“so, aside from taking my breath away, what do you do for a living?”) although the girl would definitely be surprised, and maybe even annoyed at his seemingly insincere ways of telling her, myungjae would do everything he can to regain her trust in him (aka. making her fall for him, according to his boasting). whenever he spots her on campus, myungjae makes sure to make himself known. he often waves at her from hundreds of meters away, running to her from wherever he saw her from (and ditching whoever he was with, which, most of the time, is poor woonhak) just to strike a conversation with her. he asks her about all kinds of things, like what she’s doing today, how she’s feeling, if anything happened to her in the past 16 hours which he hasn’t seen her, anything. (once, she replied back that she was going to go meet a long distance guy friend, and myungjae immediately got sooo jealous. he would ask all kinds of things, like what he looks like, how tall he is, whether she’s ever liked him in the past or if she does now, how long she’s known him for, etc. she would definitely tease him for being jealous before leaving in a flash, purposely mentioning that she needs to “get ready” for her hangout with the said guy. myungjae is absolutely distraught, to her delight.) but, if she’s feeling down, he’s there for her always, giving her a shoulder to cry on if needed. he provides lots of advice for her if she opens up to him in that way, glad that he was able to be of help to his one and only.

boy #4: han taesan

boy oh boy, han taesan. definitely the type to fall for the girl working at the lp shop that he’s a regular at. taesan was just walking around the shop, seeing if there were any albums that were recently added that he hadn’t seen the last time he was there. that’s when he spotted her listening to the legendary nirvana album (in his opinion), bleach (1989), and she was humming the melody to “about a girl” when he couldn’t help but be intrigued about her. the lp shop was old; taesan was close with the owner of the shop, since the old man had cared for taesan like his own son. taesan would definitely ask about her the next time he sees the man (which is very soon), surprised when he mentions that she’s working at the shop now; taesan came to the shop almost everyday following that short encounter, often staying at the shop much longer than necessary when she was around (and leaving the shop quickly when he wasn’t able to see her at her usual spot at the counter), trying to get a better look at what she was doing or if she was listening to anything else that he enjoyed listening to, too.  the first time that taesan would actually make a move is when he catches that she’s sick from the rapidly changing weather. he spots her erupting into small coughing fits, which she suppresses quickly with a quick drink from her practically steaming tumbler. the next day taesan walks into the shop, his pockets are a little heavier than usual; he’s carrying with him some cough medicine and tylenol, packaged nicely in a clear bag, perfected with a clean note inside (which he definitely didn’t take 15 minutes to write two lines of). when she’s not at the counter, cleaning something at a different end of the shop, taesan slips over and places the bag of medicine containing the note next to her tumbler so she can’t miss it, smiling a little as he exits the shop.

boy #5: kim leehan

would it be a surprise if leehan falls for the girl working as a docent at the aquarium? she's all he’s been looking for; an expert on fish that shared the same love for marine life that he did. i feel like leehan would meet her coincidentally at his local aquarium; usually he likes to stay home and just look at his own fish tank, but that day, he felt like going out. it had been too long since he left the house, anyway; the last time he’d left was a few days ago, when he went to go find some new fishies for his fish tank (if leehan has his fish tank and his phone, he could probably stay at home for a whole month without leaving it once).  usually, leehan is the type to walk around the aquarium by himself; he already knew a lot about most of the fish there, and if he didn’t know anything, he was the type to stand in front of the description for a while in order to read everything about the new fish. but, something about her voice stroke a chord in him; her voice was different from the other docents that he had walked by, and he saw himself just trailing the crowd that was following her, listening to her words that were flowing out of her like she was telling the story about the fish for the first time. after the entire tour, when she seems to go on break, leehan would call out to her according to her name that she had mentioned at the end of the tour, letting the people know that she was always happy to talk about fish if they ever spotted her around the aquarium another day. he would then proceed to question her about some of the new species that had recently been added to the aquarium tanks, piquing her interest in him as well. i think they would meet a couple more times at the aquarium itself before leehan would ask if she would like to see his own fish tank at his house ;)

boy #6: kim woonhak

woonhak is the epitome of boyish love. there’s no denying it… he just reminds me so much of the type of guys that would endlessly tease and poke fun at you just because he doesn’t know how else to express himself. i think the person that he would do this to would definitely be a somewhat calm person… like a student volunteer at his school’s library!! he would definitely fall for her when he’s checking out his textbooks at the beginning of the year — he’s never stepped into the textbook room prior to this (since this was all a new system that the school implemented) and woonhak just saw her working hard, interacting cordially with the kids she knew and genuinely looking like she was enjoying her job there. her genuineness sparked something deep inside of him, and after that day, i feel like he would visit the library all the time. he’s going to memorize the days and periods that she’s working at the library and get out of class during those days just to go to the library and try to see her. because he visits her so often, i just know that they would start to talk and that would just make woonhak fall even more for her — she’s such a passionate individual, always working hard for what she wants to achieve in the future. whenever she talks about her ambitions, woonhak just can’t help but be mesmerized about everything around her; her pretty, sparkling eyes, the soft breeze from the window that tickles her hair, being able to easily tune out the bustling of the students around them as if they were alone, and her voice, making him truly wonder if she was born under the extensive care of angels. at one point, though, i feel like she would ask him why he always visits her but never actually looks at any of the books or the library in general. woonhak’s ears would burn a bright shade of red before he clears his throat, finally asking her out on a date (“actually, speaking of which… do you want to, uh, go out this weekend?”)

reblogs + feedback are greatly appreciated ! © luv-y0urself / 2024

[crushedsweets]

Can you draw or talk more about Toby and Eyeless Jack or even the X-Virus?

YESSSS i can. heres a lil doodle to get me started.

OKKKK the little concept in my head has slender's MAIN GOAL being to prevent any paranormal/supernatural stuff coming out to the general public. hence his proxies being made to get rid of tapes, evidence, and kill if Necessary. sometimes slender makes paranormal/supernatural ppl help out his human proxies "as payment for refuge" in his forest. SO that sorta explains how toby and jack know each other and why jack helps at all. he can't rlly go out to the public so he's stuck with these assholes. it's not really supposed to be a 'mansion' trope, moreso random cabins and shelters littered about the forest, but it could work in the mansion au too

Imma ramble abt toby n jacks friendship (in my head) under the cut + a random x virus doodle

as for toby and jack specifically. toby is impulsive, aggressive, can't feel pain, and doesn't know what's good for him, so he's forced to get help from jack a good bit. for a long while there was hella tension between them since, again, jack isn't helping these guys out of the goodness of his heart. he's helping them bc the forest their boss resides in is the only place he's relatively safe. jack has a weird mix of a inferiority and superiority complex, since he envies toby's humanity but also feels like he's 'better' due to toby's own . . violent habits. toby thinks jack is pretty cool from the get-go ('wooow ur grey..') but he gets pissed off with jack's questions and demands of 'DONT RIP UR FUCKING STITCHES' and 'u have a concussion don't fucking scroll on your phone for 5 hours a day'.

toby has no idea if these demands come from actual concern or annoyance, and frankly, neither does jack. regardless, toby's with jack a decent bit. partially since jack makes a lot of people really uncomfortable so it's easy to go hang out with jack when he doesnt wanna deal with anyone else but still wants company. eventually theyre capable of some decent banter and conversations. theyre both mamas boys so thats a very weird touchy topic that they kinda dance around but both feel very deeply and know the other relates. THEY MISS THEIR MOMS SO BADLY.. :( mayhaps one year toby helps drop off flowers to jack's moms house for mothers day. jacks way too ashamed to even get within a 10 mile radius of his mom. that's kinda the moment things really shift between them and they actually become friends.

toby also asks abt university. lyra was at community college until she passed, and toby never considered college as an option, so he gets curious on what he missed out on. he also likes to share stuff abt lyra and their old shenanigans. tim and brian have used his childhood against him multiple times before, and it's not like he's gonna trust ben or jeff with that information. jacks sort of like a void he could talk into. jack feels uneasy talking about his life before the sacrifice, since he misses it so unbelievably bad, but toby accidentally got him to talk about it while treating a burn before.

ok and to top this fucking essay off heres xvirus. i had no idea he existed until this year and someone sent me an ask about his updated design, so he's some scribbles for him :9 his concepts super cool tho so maybe ill get more into him later on

[metaphorwritings]

hii! could you mayhaps write about Eupha noticing that the reader likes her brother, Edeni, and tries to make them get together? could be in any format you like :)

"Just tell him how you feel"

Author's note : Omg, I hope you don't mind if I turn this into a 'my best friend's brother' type of trope

Pairing : Edeni Etoreika x GN!Reader Pt. 1 (Fluff, Confession)

Synopsis : Ever since Eupha's return from the temple, she has noticed an awkward tension between you and her brother

Eupha couldn't understand it.

It has only been a few days since the human had attacked the inhabitants of Virga Island, only a few days since her return from the temple, only a few days since she and the outsiders of the village arrived with the Drakodios in hand.

And yet she could tell that things were not the same as they used to be between you and her brother, Edeni. These were the thoughts she currently had on her mind as she meditated in front of her mother's religious shrine, trying to clear her mind and have a better understanding of the situation.

Every time since Edeni's return from stepping down from the tournament of the throne, you'd always have this smile on your face, you seemed calmer and more at ease, but she just thought that it was only because he was the chief of their little village and it was only natural for it's people to feel a sense of calm around their leader.

But Edeni has also been acting ever so strangely, whenever you spoke, he could never seem to form proper sentences and his face would flush a bright red colour.

These thoughts were interrupted when she heard a knock on the wooden door, causing her to open one of her three mustari eyes and look towards the door before uttering "Who is it?"

"It's Y/n", the person on the other side of the door spoke "I brought your supper, Lady Eupha". The door opened and revealed Eupha's most trusted friend since childhood, Y/n, holding a wooden tray of foods for the young girl.

"You do not have to call me that, you know?" She inquired, uncrossing her legs.

"Why not? Can't you handle a little bit of teasing now?" Y/n chuckled as they sat next to Eupha, placing the tray in-between the two, "Besides, I thought you liked to be known as our village priestess"

Eupha couldn't help but chuckle at your cheeky remark, taking a loaf of bread in hand and tearing a bit off "Yes, I suppose so". She then looked back towards the shrine "But I am not a child anymore, I am the village priestess. I need to-"

"-to appear mature for the people. I know" They interrupted as the ruffled Eupha's blonde locks a little "But surely you can make an exception for me, can't you not?"

Eupha giggled under her breath as she took a bite from the loaf of bread in her hands, reminiscing about your time as children, playing games on the beach together and such, telling stories as the fireflies glowed in the air, how the two of you would laugh without a care in the world for such responsibilities that adults had.

Thinking of this, she decided to start the conversation by asking "Do you remember how the two of us and my brother used to eat the bread my mother would bake?", causing their friend to smile and reminisce about their youth.

"Yeah... I remember how Edeni used to get so excited for it..."

As Eupha looked at her friend, she couldn't help but notice how their eyes were averting their gaze from her, a feverish red hue covering her friends' ears, a small that was so smile that you'd need to squint your eyes to notice it.

"Y/n?"

Eupha asked, causing the fellow mustari hum in response.

"Well... How do I put this...? Do you... Perhaps feel a certain way towards my brother?"

The young priestess' question caused her mind to freeze, trying to think of the words to say as blood rushes to their cheeks. "I-I.... Well... I just..." They stammered, clearly flustered. How could Eupha have known? They thought they were being very discreet with their feelings...

"It's alright," Eupha started, placing a hand on your shoulder "I won't tell him"

You looked at her, surprised, confused even. "But", and there it is, there was the catch that caused that weight to fall back on your shoulders "You have to tell him yourself". You sighed and rubbed your temple "... Was it that obvious?"

Eupha chuckled nervously as she tried to encourage you some more "Erm... W-well...". That was all you needed to hear as you placed your hand over your blushing face and groaned in annoyance and embarrassment.

Eupha saw your worry and said, "Listen... If you would like, I can help you finally admit your feelings for him!". You thought about it, how Eupha was smart and your closest friend... So you lifted your head up and whispered...

"...What did you have in mind...?"

Suddenly, without so much as a knock on the already-opened door, a voice came waltzing into the room "Eupha, by chance have you seen-"

It was him.

The man who seemed to make you go quiet without saying a word.

The one whom Eupha had suspected made you a blushing mess every time he walked past.

None other than Eupha's brother, Edeni.

He stopped mid sentence when he saw you were here and his eyes widened as his face grew hot and he stammered "Y-Y/n! H-How are- How a-are y-you...?". You, yourself, were a blushing mess as you looked away and tried to act casually "I'm doing well..."

.

.

.

An awkward silence.

"Well! Um, I suppose I should go and find our visitors some place else!" Edeni suddenly said, a little too loudly as he exited the tree-top hut, "I-it was good to see you!"

You sighed in relief and turned to Eupha, who was trying to stifle her laughter. "What?" You inquired, causing her to sigh.

"The two of you are absolutely oblivious..."

She stood up, lifting the wooden tray in her hand before placing it on a table and shaking her head. She may find the whole ordeal rather frustrating, and slightly, amusing, to watch, but she was happy. Happy for her brother for feeling this way. Happy for you to want such a kind and honest man. Happy that nothing was wrong.

[justsomethough]

Just on a rant here.

Love Eddie to bits, but let's be real here, Eddie and Shannon had flaws and big ones. They don't listen to each other well. Did they love each other? Yes they did, at what level, most probably platonically, in which they mayhaps confused it as in love, IN LOVE, not in love platonically.

I can see why Shannon would be the bad guy here, leaving her son at a young age, and never contacting them again. But Eddie did the same. He went and ran away into the Army. Which he said it himself. He disguised the run away ruse, with saying that he was doing this for them, since they need the money, which is true but also they could have talked about it as Shannon argued, he didn't.

I'm not saying that Eddie is at fault, what I'm saying is that both character are complicated, and yes I don't see where honestly Eddie's character writing is going (honestly I see him as a queer men at this point, because he has been into women for some time, that's just me tho, don't kill me)

I have a problem with people saying that Eddie didn't do anything wrong when he did. He ran away as much as Shannon did, and Shannon tried, which he didn't reciprocate. Again, at this point the both of them are 100% at fault, and the real victim here is their son. We don't have to get to that, but like, yeah, i don't like seeing people putting Eddie in this like oh he's the better person cause Shannon didn't call for 3 years bla bla bla, he's not, and that's the point of it, they were both human. With so many flaws trying their best.

I interpret Eddie saying that he's broken and where his letter was as a way to say that the love that he thought he had with Shannon was the same as what Shannon felt for Chris, a family. He probably felt that he didn't matter enough to Shannon to not have a letter, he probably thought he wasn't enough, something that he has felt throughout his life, probably stemmed from his family bond with his dad. Bet you, he felt the need to step up and get married to Shannon because that's what was he was taught by his dad, to step up, why he always follows his gut on what he believes is right. Which a 100% has a pro on his morality and beliefs, but also cons of course.

Shannon probably felt that way too about Eddie when he ran away to the army, never looking back. She was grieving for her mom, so i think she didn't really thought what Eddie was really going through in the War zone. She was also probably stressed and trying to figure out on taking care of Chris. So she couldn't see it. Eddie's scar and troubles from War and childhood.

To give an honest prediction for season 8, I feel like Eddie's about to go wild, either wilder than season 3 Eddie, or as wild as season 1 Buck 👀👀👀. Also I want to know what happens with Marisol?? Does her brother comes and like kicks Eddie's ass??? Or Marisol herself does lmao. Honestly, season 8 Eddie should be single and hot and healing 👀👀 and then last episode would be a nice segue way to him considering/finding out he's gay (maybe for Buck/or someone else, but maybe buck cause proximity and come on he's Buck, he has been with Eddie, For Eddie and always think that Eddie is Enough for himself and the people around him, so yeah Buck probably).

And Season 9 is the season he's like, damn Buck is hot, oh okay, yeah he is hot. Okay, I like him, maybe a little too much. Buck doesn't see it, but Bobby does, he's like are you okay Eddie?? You seem weird and he's like nah I'm good yeah. And he's leering at Buck, and Bobby is picking it up. And one time idk, Eddie starts to blurt out about how cool Buck is, Hen and Chim are normal about it, but Bobby, bobby sense it but he doesn't pressure it, he tells Athena but Athena's like, nah, I don't think so, isn't that just normal buck & Eddie. Bobby says no. It's not. Bobby observes, and he notices the yearning and lingering and small smile so he tells Eddie after the shift in the locker room. You need to tell the people you love, you love them, if not there not going to know Eddie. You know this better than anyone. And Eddie obviously in denial, saying yeah of course I say it to my son (he knows it's not about Chris).

And may I dare say something happens to Buck, cause the show writers loveeeeees to hurt Buck (I personally don't like this) or they are in trouble, and then he blurts to Buck that he loves him and caresses his cheeks (let me, the writer, die) and buck is like in shock. Yada yada yada they are safe and sound and it's awkward. Eddie goes home and starts questioning. He is in the kitchen cleaning on nothing, he just needs to do something cause he's worried and traumatic event happened, oh no, how is he suppose to sleep. He want to call Buck but after what he said, what is he suppose to do. He hears a knock at his back door, he opens it and lo and behold, it's not buck. Just kidding, it is. Cause I believe buck knows Eddie best, he knows when he needs to be there for him. So he comes in and have the awkward, are you okay? Are you good? Conversation. Dreaded conversation.

Oh about Tommy, let's be real, it was just a fling, just like his relationships before, he tries but it doesn't work out. Not how buck wants it anyways. He dates but it doesn't go as planned so by season 9 he is devastatingly single, hot, buff and buff as he can be 👀👀.

Anyways, they talked and hugged and Eddie is like about what I said... He stops cause he doesn't want to say he meant it in a bro way, cause let's be real WHO WOULD SAY THAT LOOKING SO LOVINGLY INTO SOMEONE'S EYES AND CHEEK CARESSING in a bro way, that's a little too much don't you think. He also doesn't want to admit it, not like he battled his feeling for months on end right?? He did, it was like and workout session non stop all day everyday for months, and when Bobby said what he said, he was taken aback and finally admitted it to himself.

But yeah, why admit right, anyways, they were hugging yeah, and Eddie almost blurted out don't think about it. But Buck cuts him off, about what you said, looks at him in the eye with THE SAME SAME LOVING EYES. (GOOD GOD I'M HAVING A CARDIACT ARREST, HELP ME, CPR ME STAT) and he says, I Love You Too Eddie, and holds Eddie's face. he kisses Eddie, ever so tenderly and lovingly cause let's be real, Eddie is lovely and amazing. He deserves the world and the world is Evan Buckley.

Eddie's in awe, cause excuse me?? What Am I suppose to do?? And Bucks jokingly says, also I'm saying that not in the bro way and chuckles, oh uh, we woo, Eddie is in love again oh noooooo.

And there in the kitchen looking at each other, near the sink and Chris walks in cause he is thirsty, it's almost like 2 am. He sees buck, buckk what are you doing here this late. And buck is like, ouh you know just talking to your dad, saying it so playfully and Eddie just looking at him eyes wide. And Chris walks out after talking a little with buck, and buck jokes do you think he saw and heard? And Eddie is like idk buck you think (Chris didn't btw, thank god cause honestly Eddie isn't ready for that, cause he's not out of the glass closet just yet). And that happens in the middle of the season. The rest of the season is just the secretly dating, and hanging out, they think that they are being slick, but people are noticing, Bobby, whew, he knows, cause he knows buck and Eddie, and they are weird, together this time. It's like they are lingering stares at each other and yearning stares at each other instead of, just one of them. It's kinda stuffy and god weird. Cause he's not use to it, secrets between them. Chim and Hen? They notice but it's more towards they kinda touchy aren't they (this is mostly Hen, cause Chim usually minds his own business) and then hen says, they look at each other a little too oggly eyes. And Chim notices, of course he tells maddie, and they discuss together, at dinner, family dinner with Karen and Hen. And they do a bet, Karen and chim bets against them, and maddie and hen bets that they are dating cause look at the facts right, oggly eyes, touchy, whispering, flirting?! I mean maddie points out, Buck probably has a crush oh Eddie since he met him.

So they observes but nothing conclusive. They try to pit Eddie and Buck, trying to figure out, which annoyed, the now back appointed captain Nash, yeah Gérard is gone, dusted, maybe died, heart attack cause the man's a dinosaur, they probs said something and he just gag, drop dead and dies, there was an investigation, but concluded he died of an heart attack yada2 sad episode. Done and dusted, got some power struggle with new appointed captain, but alas Bobby still got it back cause we love Bobby. They are family (In real life that'd be toxic)

Bobby got to know about the bet and joins, which of course he joins team Maddie and He, cause he notices more than them, cause he is the Bobby Nash, all seeing eyes for the group I'd say.

For the rest of the day, they are all figuring out are they dating or not, looking for signs, they are a little weird about it especially Hen and Chimney, cause why not, they are The Chaotic duo. They are asking interrogating Eddie while buck is away, Ravi's there and he is confuse, why are they so into his dating life, and God he almost blurted out something, but was cut off by Bobby cause trying not to lose the bet aight.

The whole episode is just them investigating and interrogating, it's stupid, chaotic and funny cause it's them, it's the 118 clique lmao.

Anyways, at the end of the episode, Ravi asks Bobby what that was all about, are you guys trying to figure who's he dating?, isn't it Buck, I saw them on a date the other day and kissing in the car was not stalking, was just there with friends. Bobby just looks at him and smile. They were on a date, at this point he wasn't thinking about the bet (okay maybe he was a little bit), he was just happy for them, finding joy in each other is so comforting and amazing, they both deserved it. He tells Ravi about the bet and ask him if he's joining. Of course Ravi does, Bobby says he'll split with him.

Anyways, I personally not sure how they find out, but they do. Okay maybe, they all hang out with each other after theit shift, and Eddie and Buck goes, hey we have something we need to tell you guys. And the announce it, they say, we are dating, together, been a while, almost 8 months now. And everybody looks at each other, cause remember the bet? Yeah, anyways. They all go from silent to omg, that's great!! Finally!! Omg. Congratulations was in order. They toast and everything, and then at the back Karen and Chim grimace cause they lost. And Maddie, Bobby and Hen won (and Ravi, but nobody knowss, he knows).

They ask Eddie, does Chris know? He doesn't, honesty they don't know how to say it to him, they don't want him to panic and get mad cause let's be real, a lot of Eddie's relationship ends, badly and everyone leaves, and Chris does not want that for Buck, buck can't leave, he promised him.

Anyways, they say the plan is to tell everyone in stages, first the 118 cause they don't think they can hide it, then close friends, then family, cause... Well families are a complicated bunch right, as well as Eddie's religious guilt. Anyways, its the second last episode, they are in the kitchen, cause why not, this is after they told Carla about their relationship cause Carla is like a family and close friend.

They are near the sink again, oh no, it's the sink and Buck has pinned Eddie near the sink, curse bucks height. They are kissing, just a little bit feverishly, cause Chris is in the house, they kinda forgot and Chris walks in on them, his glass falls to the ground and they look at him a little horrified. Cause not the best way to tell your child about your relationship. Chris dashes into his room. He is confuse, buck is his dad dearest friend, and they are kissing, he's not appalled to two men kissing, he's just a teenager trying to figure out what's going on. The last time it happened he thought his mom reappeared from the dead. And he's confuse again and angry cause he's confused. It's a whole thing, cause he is a teenager.

He starts to throw things in his room cause he is confused and angry and don't know where to put his feelings cause he is a teenager. Buck is calming Eddie down cause he's panicking, not again Eddie thought, he's going to leave me again. Then they hear scream and crashing, they quickly go to Chris's room it's locked, they bust it open and they Chris banging on his stuff angry. Eddie's heart is breaking because he can see himself in Chris and he doesn't want that. Like father like son, such loving and suffering.

Buck grabs Chris and hugs him and begs him to stop, seeing this Eddie goes to him and ask Chris to look at him and calm down, calm down Chris. Look at me please. You're okay, you're safe and Chris starts wailing and they both hugged him for the rest of the night.

The next day buck makes breakfast for them and talks to Eddie about what happened, he apologised, if he was more careful we could've avoided it. And Eddie says, no, we couldn't it's as much as you fault as it is mine. I mean we did predict this would happen right? God. It's so complicated. So buck suggested that they don't see each other for a little bit, we'll see each other at work, but i think Chris needs some time to process.

That's what they exactly do. Cause they love Chris. They meet each other outside, but it's not the same, they are worried. The last episode of season 9, Chris says to his dad, I want to see buck, can I go and meet buck. And Eddie says yes, of course you can buddy. When do you want to go? Can I see him tonight? Alone. Eddie looks at Chris, worried, but if that's what he wants then it's fine, it's buck, Chris loves buck. So of course it's fine. Okay, I'll call buck and tell him. You don't need to, I already called him. And silence. Okay Eddie says. He's hoping and praying to a God he knows is there that nothings going to happen.

Chris is at Bucks apartment, Carla sent him there cause Eddie took the shift that buck was suppose to be on. It's a little awkward, but this is Buck, he tries his best to make sure that Chris is having fun. Buck tries to get him to play a new game he knows Chris would like, they are sitting in bucks sofa that his mom bought for him. Buck, do you love my dad? Of course I do Chris, does my dad live you the same? Of course he does. Are you sure? Buck, i don't want you to leave. Ah, there it is. Buck puts down the game and looks at Chris. Chris, I promise you I wouldn't leave you okay. Even when you don't like my dad anymore, or when my dad doesn't like you anymore?

I won't Chris, even if we fight, I won't leave you, cause you're important to me too Chris, no matter what.

That's a promise?

Yes that is. Buck held his pinky out and intertwined it with Chris.

Now you can't leave me buck if you do, I'm going to have to keep you in a basement.

Oh you will? Yes I will. Okay okay, you can but you have to beat me first.

And they play game for the rest of the night and talked.

The next day before bed, Chris goes to his dad's room.

Dad, can we talk?

Sure buddy, what is it.

Eddie looks at Chris he sat on his bed. And he gestures to his dad to come and sit with him.

I wanted to apologised for how I reacted to you and Buck the other day.

Eddie's heart swell cause what is he apologising for.

No, no it's, okay, it wasn't your fault. We shouldn't have sprang that up on you so suddenly.

Yeah, i was kinda weirded out that you were kissing.

Two men kissing? You were weirded by that?

No dad! You and Buck! It wasn't disgusting, it was just... Well weird, cause you guys never done that before and you suddenly did. And... I didn't want him to leave... Like the others did.

Eddie heart sank, god what has he done to his boy.

( I personally don't know how to have this conversation cause I'm from a family where we don't talk about feelings)

He apologised and hugged him. And they hugged each other for some time.

He can come back to the house again by the way, I miss having him around.

If you want it, sure.

Love you dad.

Love you too, Chris.

Now that's that out of the picture, Chris knows, they are all good right? Rightttttt. Nahh, now Eddie needs to think how to come out to his religious family, which I honestly don't have any idea, but it'll probably be whoppeee doo lotsa stuff thrown around, maybe we'll finally meet Eddie's sisters and one of his sisters is like yeah, i knew you were queer cause of some thing that happened one time. But his parents and abuela?? Tia pepa?? Prob will take time. That's season 10 Eddie's problem honestly, not mine, at least he is with the love of his life weehooo have a great day everyone. That's the end of the rant.

[cloudy-em]

ok mayhaps a carmen x fem!reader and she’s like his childhood bsf? then she just kinda shows up one day after not seeing him for years idk

ooh I like it!

xxxxxxxxxxx

The memories came flooding back to Carmen. He felt frozen. Richie had pulled him close, a hushed but audible sound in the busy kitchen and all Carmen could do was focus on what Richie said; "Y/N is here". Suddenly nothing else mattered, and Carmen rushed to his office, slamming the door behind him. He leaned back in the chair, breathing deeply to stall the anxiety.

Y/N, his closest friend. He remembered the day they met so vividly, it was like watching it on a screen. She was riding her bike down the sidewalk, doing her best to work with her helmet that was a little too big and her uncoordinated 5 year old body. She approached him sitting on the old wooden steps of his house.

"D'you wanna play?" she asked him. And the friendship took off flying. They took each other away from the pains of their homelives in treehouses and days playing by the creek. They grew older and stayed just as close. Carmen struggled in school and Y/N helped him with his homework, offering to do the math for him if he read the English novel. They skipped middle school dances together by sitting in that old treehouse that was quickly getting too cramped, smiling and laughing together.

But the times changed, like they often do, and Y/N's mom remarried and they had to move away from Carmen. He could feel the hurt still inside him as he wrung his hands, pacing the floor in his office. He felt betrayed; she did leave him to deal with everything alone. She had escaped the life she'd always led, moving out to some western coastal town where she would be happy without Carmen. The door opened, and Carmen whipped his head around to face it.

"Cousin," Richie said, seriously for once and not being an asshole. "She's still out there. Nobody's taken her order yet. Thought maybe the Chef would like to do the honors?"

Carmen stared back, wide-eyed, unable to speak.

"Ya can't run away forever," Richie told him.

Carmen took a deep breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Richie was right. His dearest friend, the one he hadn't seen in a decade, was sitting in his restaurant. He could see her again, one last time. Maybe she'd recognize him and they would make small talk for a minute or two after she paid the bill and he would have closure. Or maybe she wouldn't recognize him and all he'd ever be to her was a lost memory.

It was undeniably Y/N. He knew as soon as he left the safety of the kitchen that it was her. God, she'd barely changed. As Carmen approached the table where she sat alone, he swore time was moving slower than it ever had.

"Good evening, may I get you something to drink?" he asked, cringing at how his words sounded.

"Carmy?" She practically squealed. "Oh my god, I can't believe it's you! It's me, it's Y/N." He smiled politely and bit his tongue to keep from saying, "I know".

"Wow, Y/N! It's great to see you," he said, trying to steady the shake in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, mom and Robert finally got divorced, and mom's old, so I helped her move back to where she grew up," Y/N said, softly. "I heard about this new restaurant, got rave reviews. Figured I would try it before I head back to New York."

"Oh, you live in New York now?" Carmen asked her. If only he'd known that, they were probably in New York at the same time. This meeting could've happened so much sooner.

"Yeah, I'm in marketing for a law firm," she said. "Well, what about you? What've you been up to?"

"Me? I-" but Carmen was interrupted by Richie.

"Chef," he said. "If you'd like to sit and talk with your...friend, I'm more than glad to take her order."

Carmen didn't have a chance to answer, because Y/N answered for him.

"Oh, Carm, please stay!" She said to him before turning to Richie kindly, thanking him and ordering an appetizer to share with Carmen. Richie nodded, walking back towards the kitchen.

The silence made Carmen uncomfortable as he sat across from his childhood best friend.

"So..." Y/N began, trying to keep her smirk behind her lips, but failing. The gesture made Carmen smile softly at her; she never could quite contain her joy or humor. "Chef, huh?"

Carmen nodded shyly. "Yeah. Revamped the place, I-I'm proud of it."

"You should be! It's great, Carmy, it really is," Y/N smiled, reaching her hand across the table for his hand. He didn't move his hand, letting her skin graze his.

"I'm glad to see you, I really am," Carmen told her, hoping for a split second that maybe, just maybe, they could repair what they once had.

"I'm sorry we lost contact, Carmen," Y/N apologized. "It's no excuse, but Robert didn't want me to keep talking to you. He wanted me to find new friends, and I- god, I'm just so sorry."

Carmen, let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "It's okay, Y/N. I wanted you to find friends and I wanted you to be happy. Plus, it's just as much my fault as it is yours. We both got busy, and it was a stupid mistake. We'll make it better, yeah?"

Y/N smiled at Carmen's forgiveness and maturity and happy at his proposition to rekindle.

"Yeah, Carmy. We'll make it better."

[monkee-mobile]

Do you mayhaps have any more Davy Baby thoughts to spare?🤲

Sorry this took a bit to get to! I’ve been busy and a little brain dead so thoughts haven’t been coming so easily but I guess I’ll talk about Davy when he gets a bit older!

In my personal little monkees universe davy loses his mom young like real davy did in real life. He starts flying out to England a lot from like ‘70-‘72 to visit his father who gets sick (his sister starts paying for his flights so it makes it easier). Of course all the boys are distraught when Davy’s over in England. Micky and Peter miss their friend and Mike makes himself sick worrying if Davy’s okay over there. The one who it’s the hardest for though is Davy who’s without his friends and helping out his father, who the whole family is worried might die. He gets judged pretty heavily by his oldest sister and extended family for being a long hair hippie kid, so he feels pretty isolated and just worried for his father all the time.

On top of that, England reminds him of being a kid, for better or for worse. He’s back in his childhood room, and he’s back with his family. There’s reasons why he left england in the first place (not like awful stuff, more just feeling stifled and wanting to “be free” (haha) (“I wanna be free” is the first song he writes on his own. mike is very surprised cause he didn’t really know davy had it in him to pull his weight in songwriting and secretly very proud), and just feeling judged by his family for not meeting their expectations. Young davy idolized americans and had dreams of being a star, but his father and grandfather were not happy about him leaving and pursuing “impractical” things, which is why he tries to prove to his grandfather he’s successful and alright and made the right choice going to california)

But davy feels stuck and alone, with no easy way to get back to his friends—who he’s definitely started to think of as home, more home than england—unless he wants to take a whole plane ride and have to make grand excuses to his whole family. So he just feels awful whenever he’s there for too long. The boys have each other to lean on. Peter misses and worries about davy but mike assures him davy’s alright. Davy’s stuck in his bedroom. So he calls Mike.

It starts as “call us when you get there so we know you’re alright” and he calls up most nights to see how everyone is and update them on what he’s doing, but it starts that, after Micky or peter inevitably hand the phone over to mike, and mike asks him how he’s doing, davy just breaks down. He feels really small and just lets it all out over the phone. Poor thing is crying and Mike feels awful because there’s really nothing he can do but say “you’ll come back soon and we’ll be okay” and “we love you davy” (every time davy comes home the boys all give him a giant hug in the airport with lots of jumping and yelling and picking up and spinning and maybe some kisses on the forehead and davy always clings to mike really hard for a few days afterward and mike doesn’t say anything about it but he doesn’t mind. just holds davy when he needs it and is there for him)

eventually davy’s dad does pass away and mike would never admit this but deep in him he’s kind of relieved it finally happened because davy being away all the time was stressful on all of them, both money-wise and finding gigs and establishing their image as a four-piece group, but also just because they were all always worried about each other or worried davy would get sucked back into his life in england, and davy was always stressed out about his father even when he came back to California. So it’s not a good thing that his father has passed, but they can have some peace of mind now.

But his dad’s passing hits davy like a brick because, well, there goes both of his parents. They all go off to england for the funeral with him and davy stays quiet for most of the early time. Just silent and big eyed and keeping up appearances and all. Mike sees him break little bits at a time and he lets davy sleep in his bed at night and mike holds him close and rubs his back and sings to him. It isn’t until they get back to the pad that davy just breaks down. inconsolable crying and panicking and all. He feels orphaned and upset and horrified that he could lose someone like that. He basically spends a long time in a very fragile state and mike starts taking very special care of him. He goes full mumma.

Davy has always been pretty baby, but now he’s gone from bratty, rebellious toddler, to very sad, weepy little boy. he’s always with mike and mike makes sure he’s eating and drinking water and gives him bubble baths and things and lets him sit on his lap and reads to him and sings him silly little songs and just lets davy be as little as he needs to be. Davy, still the little attention hog that he is does eat all of this up and is full on attached to mike, lovey dovey and snuggly. Peter also snuggles with davy a lot of the time because he’s just calm and warm and nice. (micky can be a lot. he’s very good with davy, but sometimes the baby is taking a nap (and drooling on mikes shoulder, but so it goes when you’re a long-suffering mother) and mike needs to just firmly tell micky that he needs to stop shaking the house and barking or something)

Davy starts, jokingly at first, calling mike “mum” at this point, and micky pokes fun at him saying he’s Davy’s mama, but eventually davy starts calling him “mumma” when he’s really all soft (and mike internally melts because davy starts saying mumma when he’s all sleepy curled up on mikes lap and he’s just so darn precious to mike with his big eyes and button nose chewing on his thumb and trying not to suck on it and clutching onto mikes shirt) and, yknow, mike just asks davy one time, (because mikes growing out a beard at this point because it’s the 70s and he looks very much not like someone’s mother) if maybe he’d like to say “papa” or something. Davy is like “no, you’re mumma” and mikes like, “okay so i just have to deal with this now” and accepts that he is a mom now (he thinks of himself as “mama”, but starts to realize to Davy he’s “mumma” and mike thinks about that for a time and decides that that’s sweet as all hell)

But yes, mike is mumma and davy is slowly healing. Davy’s definitely being babied for maybe longer than he “should have” been (and pushing his luck with mike and being a little shit again because he’s so so spoiled) but it really does help him out. and he gets pampered and coddled and pulled around in a red wagon for a bit because he’s just that damn spoiled.

I’m sorry this is going on for so long and got pretty sad honestly but I have a BIT more!!

So davy starts to go back to business as normal (even though at the pad he’s so totally all baby for like the better part of the early 70s) but he does start to tell Mike to let him be more independent and that he’d like to just try to move on. So mike lets him (inside he’s pretty hurt. he misses his baby!!) and they do still cuddle and stay very close and Davy still chills in his lap and takes naps on him and holds onto Mike’s shirt very tightly, but some things ease up slowly. Davy goes out with micky and they look for chicks and things and mike stops reading bedtime stories to Davy. (he dearly misses that and it makes him pretty sad. he reads to peter a lot though so he’s not completely without someone to take care of) davy doesn’t call him mumma much anymore unless he’s feeling particularly vulnerable.

So flash forward to the 80s and davy is a full middle aged man. they all are. Mike is going gray in his beard (which is quite distinguished he thinks), and has finally cut off his long hair cause it’s just easier to manage with it short, and davy is in the process of growing out a mullet of all things because he thinks it’ll help the group look more “trendy” (micky laughs his ass off the first time davy comes home with the haircut and davy sulks with mike, who just chuckles and rubs his back, and Davy refuses to talk to mick for like two days. don’t worry, davy will get back at him when he has that hideous 90s ponytail)

But, yeah, davy isn’t really such a little guy anymore, but mike has softened up quite a bit and is more open with his feelings and all, he’s just softened generally (Generally meaning he’s a big softie and cries happy tears over little things and they all start giving each other platonic kisses that become commonplace in their household), and though he’s a big boy now, davy is still mikes little one because he became davy’s mumma with his heart and soul and Davy is his baby for always, and so sometimes mike just has to slip in a baby voice when he’s talking to davy and watch davy slip a bit back into their old dynamic because davy cannot resist attention and he misses his mumma too, he just wanted to grow up a bit.

Okay so that’s a mammoth of a post. I’m sorry if it’s way too much or not what you were thinking, but this kept coming to me so here it all is. I didn’t get into all the specifics about davy when he’s all baby, but he’s VERY spoiled by his mum and his big brothers. they try not to spoil him but he’s just so damn cute when he gets all pouty. He pouts A LOT, but he’s can also be very giggly and sweet. He’s very ticklish too, but DO NOT TELL MICKY !! Micky thinks davys adorable, he kind of co-parents with mike at points because once davy gets comfortable, there’s only so much toddler energy and “mumma mumma mumma mummamummamumma” mike can take.

Anyway, I guess that’s where I’ll leave it. Davybaby forever ✌️

[profanepurity]

No pressure at all but mayhap you have wholesome Secondo and Bellamy content lying around. These two are just so cute and you were 100% correct and valid for making Secondo a daddy’s girl, this man’s gives off the vibe that he would spoil his daughter to the point of making Diana mad

(also I hope midterms are finally over and you’re doing ok and get to rest. I’m spending only the best vibes your way

Of course! You're so right, Secondo spoils his little baby a ridiculous amount. He simply is incapable of saying no to her (if it's anything material. If she asks to play outside of the church grounds or with a ghoul that's not in his immediate circle of advisors, guards, or band members, the answer will always be no. Secondo would put Bellamy in a bubble if he could).

Diana usually thinks it's sweet, and a bit amusing to see her stoic, cold Papa melt into a soft, loving man when it comes to their daughter. She does think it's a bit excessive at times, but Diana would much rather allow her lover to suffer the consequences of his own actions, as she finds that to be a much sweeter punishment.

For example, Diana had softly reminded Secondo that Bellamy did not need every single plushy she looked at. But Papa justified it by saying the bigger ones were for decoration, since he didn't want her childhood bedroom to feel like a white, suffocating study room (he's totally not projecting). He also may or may not be slightly jealous that she loves her stuffed rat, Lumaconi, that Copia got her so much.

Papa didn't take into account that whenever Bellamy would come into their room to sleep with them that she would bring every single one of those plushies with her.

Now he can't sleep. This man has to be up in 2 hours to go be a satanic pope.

(Thank you so much for the positive vibes Bamboo! Midterms have passed, but I'm unfortunately going to be quite busy for the next two months. I'm in the last semester of my BFA, and I'm neck deep in work for my undergrad thesis. I may be gone for short periods of time here and there, but I have no intention on leaving! I am actually extremely excited to show you guys little peaks of what I've been working on in the next few days. I have something coming out at the end of this month that I hope you guys will enjoy as well. It has to do with the origins of a particular sister of sin 🖤)

[fairyhaos]

can you do moots as book tropes maybe? if possible

yes i definitely can omggg lezzgo (these kinda turned into fic tropes instead tho ngl,,,)

@slytherinshua is a coffee shop setting! no idea why tbh, but i imagine her as the animated, lovely customer who always comes into the cafe during the slow hours, with a smile on her face and a book in her hand and a whole array of wonderful and weird new things to chatter about to the barista who may be just a tiny bit in love with her

@blue-jisungs feels very much like a magical school book series. i'm thinking harry potter, i'm thinking school for good and evil, i'm thinking magic and pastel blues and childhood friends to lovers and saving the day and being a hero, either willingly or unwillingly, and learning and growing to become the best person you are able.

@wheeboo is arranged marriage!!!! i can't explain it but the tension and the drama ✨ and the way it can be either enemies to lovers or strangers to lovers is soooo rania. she'd bicker, she'd banter, but most of all she'd fall in love so, so deeply that she cannot even think of not loving them anymore.

@rubywonu is a fae/ faerie world setting. im thinking cruel prince-esque, with drama and blood and alliances, but also with all of its whimsy and its magic and its sparkly gold fairy dust. it's something a bit mysterious, very much unknown, and only the strongest and the most quick-witted will be able to survive

@selenicives dragonsssss and faux medieval settings :D the lore and the intrigue and the aesthetics of it all make me think of weiwei, #1 bc i think xe would love to create a world like that but also bc it feels vv much like something xe would enjoy being part of haha

@ylliris-hanniehae is exes to lovers. perhaps an unusual one, but exes to lovers, and second chances, is always about soft love and gentle stories, of talking things through and comforting past hurts and making promises to move on into the future, together. and i think ylli would like that.

@odxrilove is amnesia. dori is gonna get hit by a truck or smth during a crucial moment in the plot and half of the story is spent watching her struggle to get back her memories before PLOT TWIST it turns out that either a) someone intentionally hit her or b) she never lost her memories in the first place????? i feel like drama follows her wherever she goes tbh.

@weird-bookworm is found family ^^ bc she's just so sweet and nice and also a little bit silly and goofy exactly like how the found family dynamic often is. also sky just fits so seamlessly into our group like she's always meant to be here, so duh. she's now part of our family.

@etherealyoungk is just. cottagecore like idk how to explain it. when a character moves away from the bustle of the city to live in the countryside, perhaps to heal past traumas, and they discover an elusive stranger with flowers in their hair who help them open their heart and learn to love again? that's skye.

@gyuswhore is a baker/ bakery au! again i literally don't know why but em gives me the vibes of a rambly + bubbly + slightly weird baker who always makes sure to beam at the regulars and mayhaps be just a little bit enamoured with this one customer who always comes in and, without fail, orders fifteen egg tarts in bulk. she doesn't know what they're doing with so many egg tarts. but she's gonna find out.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Finally had a chance to make it to Shadow episodes 6 & 7! I really wanted to get to them before the new episodes landed. I need to catch up on some of the meta y'all have posted but for now, a few thoughts.

I still think that the shadow is a part of Dan, and the shadow-erotic moments just made that seem more likely to me. It feels like he's subconsciously becoming more sexually aware (mayhaps due to proximity to Nai, though I'm not positive on that), and it's incredibly common for most of us to have our initial sexual explorations with ourselves. He's a bit old for it, but Catholicism isn't known for encouraging healthy sexuality. It seemed like he did the scratches to himself (all on the left side of his body, which would make sense if he is right-handed). He's got a lot of repression to tear though.

In that vein, the shadow seems to be doing what it can to get Dan to break out of his repression. It brought him to his childhood to feel the grief of his experiences, to his father where he could express his anger, it got him all hot and bothered before Nai came into the room. I think it wants him to feel.

Also kudos to Singto for his portrayal, because playing a character who has to hide so much of what he is feeling all the time is really damn hard, but he's doing an amazing job.

The story of the One-Armed Man was fascinating, because it showed so much around the stigmas of the current society. It wasn't enough to just tell a ghost story, to make it tantalizing to the audience the storyteller added all these, mostly sexual, aspects. This man who was completely failed by society was made out to be a "deviant" - and there's a lot that can be said around how disability and queerness intersect, and is handled in society, and how fascinated people are by them while at the same time condemning them as abnormal. This would also connect to Trin as someone who was both bipolar and queer.

The fun house - did Anan actually see Nai, or was it really Trin? Because Nai was wearing the mask, but Anan saw it as Trin's face.

I get that Anan is a total little asshole, but I really hope they don't minimize the fact he is being abused by Yada. Because so far they're kinda being painted as equal partners in this, and they really are not.

[wyrdle]

Thank you for your Geeta thoughts and for your trans Clavell content! If you're still looking for prompts, do you have any headcanons on Geeta's childhood or what she was like as a student?

Hehe!! Baby Geeta. I was influenced by this person's drawing of young Geeta, and thoroughly enjoy the thought that she used to be quite excitable and enthusiastic, almost like Nemona. Her present day team are all pokemon she loved and had as a child, barring Glimmora which was a gift by the Area Zero/Tera Orb researchers upon her appointment as chairwoman.

I enjoy the HC that she and Larry + Rika etc. shared childhoods, and that all of them were friends. (There's a lot of fanart + comics from JP fans, its fabulous) Mayhaps Geeta was hoping to have a similarly fierce rivalry between herself and Larry, but was met with underwhelm/lack of reciprocation. Thinking of Geeta as a Nemona who was hushed/pushed to "tone things down" feels plausible, seeing that she's so driven + passionate but also reserved.

Somehow I can't see her being a people person very much, instead preferring pokemon company more, facing a little bit of isolation from being "weird" in addition to being a top student. Eventually she grows into La Primera, who can take on the scrutiny etc.

Anyway, skiddo and gogoats. gogoats everywhereeee!!! My little mountain climbing child, getting away from the crowd lol.

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

Hi !!

I'm such a big fan of your artworks, especially Rozin. (They just mean so much to me, I can't get them out of my mind..) and I would love to ask you this,, What are your thoughts that Rokus' companions in the novel are both Gyatso and Sozin? I would love to see how their characters to be fleshed out and what they were like before especially Sozin. I'm simply so filled with ectasy and excitement for his upcoming book since he's one of my favorites aside from Aang and Kuruk.

Hiiii thank you so much! I’m so glad that you enjoy my art, it always makes me so happy when people tell me that :)

But also I am SO GLAD that you brought this up because there’s so much POTENTIAL THERE. Roku’s gonna be dealing with Sozin, his best friend from childhood, and Gyatso, who is described as a bit of a nuisance but we all know they’re gonna be besties. There’s the potential for an interesting dynamic- Roku's past life as Sozin's BFF competing/conflicting with his new life as the Avatar. There's also Sozin fighting to stay Roku’s friend, his past fighting to stay in the present, and Gyatso being as lovable as he is, the future slowly becoming the present and pushing the past farther back. I foresee some jealousy on Sozin’s side mayhaps, and maybe some frustration on Gyatso’s side because “Why is this Fire Prince being so MEAN TO ME I’m LITERALLY the AVATAR’S BFF!!” I can't get my thoughts in order rn because I have been doing Work and my brain is Dead but I understand and share in your excitement 100% :)

but the idea of jelly Sozin was actually was so juicy that I wrote a lil thing about it I hope you don't mind :)

“And here is your room,” Sozin said with a smile, pushing open the door and revealing the inside with a grand sweep of his arm. “I made sure nobody came in and moved around all of your stuff; the dust on the floor is 100% natural!”

“Wow, thanks,” Roku scoffed, unable to keep a smile off of his own face. “I’m so glad. Thank you, Sozin, I do appreciate the gesture.”

“Right…” Sozin’s smile softened and he peered up at Roku through his eyelashes, his cheeks darkening. He’s always been the shorter one, and he seemed even shorter now that Roku had hit yet another growth spurt. “You know, I really missed you. I’m glad you’re home,” he said quietly, as if he was afraid that someone would overhear.

Roku bowed his head so he could look down at his best friend, a similarly soft smile on his lips. “I missed you too,” he whispered back. “It’s weird not seeing your dumb face every day.”

Sozin turned away, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, his grip tightening on Roku’s door. “Roku, I-”

“Wow, this place is awesome!” Gyatso crowed, narrowly missing bowling Roku over as he basically crashed into his back. “Hey, do I get a room too? Is it near Roku’s? Oooh can it be near that little pond I saw earlier? It’s got these turtle-ducks and-”

Sozin’s eyebrow ticked and he shot Gyatso a look that Roku had dubbed the ‘annoying teacher’ look when they were younger, reserved for prissy professors obsessed with dates. “Yes, I will see to it that you are given appropriate housing,” he forced through gritted teeth, removing his hand from Roku’s door and holding it behind his back. Roku tilted his head minutely, surprised—what had caused his mood to change so drastically?

“Cool!” Gyatso stopped using Roku as a wall and poked his head inside of his room, his eyes wide. “Woah, is this your room, Roku? It’s so fancy!”

Roku sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his temples. Great Agni, Gyatso, calm down for once in your life. “I’m sorry, Gyatso can be very energetic. You come to love it, though. Now, what were you going to say?” He prompted, returning a smile to his face.

Sozin’s face froze and his shoulders tightened. “I… nevermind. It was stupid. I’m glad you’re back, Roku, and I’ll see you later,” he replied curtly. Then he turned around and walked off, one of his hands curled into a tight fist behind his back as the other gripped his wrist.

[eastendripper]

INTRODUCTIONS

Red | She/They, 20 y/o | Writer and Artist

➥ Hi and welcome! I'm @eastendripper and you can call me Red. I'm a hobbyist writer and (still) studying artist. I'm open to chatting about interests and other stuff, art or writing so long as there's no kind of aggression.

Inbox: OPEN

➥ A lil bit about my fandom adventures:

I'm a long-time marvel comics fan, specifically Spider-Man who's basically my childhood hero (alongside Iron Man, which was my first marvel movie) I found out about Merlin bbc by accident through AO3 work and loved it ever since. Also an absolute fan of Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint, Solo Leveling, The Greatest Estate Developer and some other manhwas.

I watched Sherlock, I'm heavily postponing on Doctor Who (sorry) and I watched the Flash, a little bit of Green Arrow, and most of the Marvel series. I'm weak for the Percy Jackson series which–at this point–I have no idea how many times I've re-read. LotR is my sleep trigger so I had to rewind to FINALLY find out how it ends (but I adore the Hobbit with all my heart). Also I've gone through Harry Potter books three times each.

➥ On the side note I love playing games. My tops are: Skyrim, The Witcher III, HoMM III, the Sims and Assassin's Creed

TLDR; Marvel (Mostly Spider-Man) and a little MCU, Merlin BBC, ORV, TGED, Flash, Percy Jackson, Harry Potter (Not so much but I enjoyed the books), Sherlock,

NOTES:

• expressions study (postponed yet again ☠)

• trees study (that ones going well btw)

• some poses?

• fisherman (sketch phase)

• roadscape (to finish)

• started a new sketch

• draw camelot

• draw gaius's chambers

• mayhaps a master post in the future (???)

[steel--fairy]

Hmmmmm, how about Barry? For the verse character thing.

barry! my very first rival! though i went with one of his other generic names and picked like. tyson for whatever reason. idk. 9 year old me was an enigma.

anyways that's to say, he has a special place in my heart the silly little kiddo

under a cut bc this, again, got super long

so to start with barry, we need to start with palmer. he and chryssas dad (henceforth referred to as cd since he doesn't have an actual name yet...) were both from twinleaf and dreamed of becoming great trainers.

and they did! palmer made it to the champion level, though being champion bored him so he quit after a bit. when plans to build a battle frontier in sinnoh popped up, he jumped at the chance to join.

cd eventually became a ranger which he was good at, but killed him in a freak accident. a lot of turbulent emotions for palmer--his best friend died the same week his son was born.

that's all relevant because it led to barry being childhood friends with chryssa and lucas whenever his dad was around... and then chased off by johanna whenever he was at the battle frontier.

cd's death shattered johanna and she partly blamed palmer. she'd never say that to his face, but she did kinda take it out on barry as a proxy.

as a result, barry had a weird time with his best friend (lucas). they could only spend time together at school or when johanna wasn't looking.

barry, despite his extroversion, was a very lonely kid. he couldn't see lucas that often and both of his parents worked busy schedules. palmer spent 5 days of the week at the battle frontier while his mom (who I should really also name) was a teacher who was constantly busy.

he had a lot of trouble making friends at school. he was a bit too extroverted yknow? tolerated at best as a class clown. lucas was basically the only person who actually liked him. (even chryssa basically tolerated him at best lol)

that left barry with a lot of time on his own. to most people's surprise, he actually spent a lot of that time studying! battling of course, not schoolwork. he studied video of his father or cynthia or whoever, went to the library to learn strategy, went by the high school to watch the older kids casually battle.

so, obviously, he couldnt wait to go on his journey! he just needed to wait for palmer to get him the perfect starter : )

...yea. he uh didnt. palmer knew barry wanted a pokemon but was also away from barry a lot. being home reminded him, but a lack of object permeance is mayhaps a family trait. barry ended up getting his starter from professor rowan.

which barry isn't bitter about at all! he's lying

barry really does love his daddy. he looks up to him as the coolest, greatest, awesomest person on the planet. the fact that palmer doesnt seem to be aware of how deep barry's admiration goes stings juuuust a tiny bit.

but he was on his journey now! and he had a rival in chryssa! (lucas was a boring nerd who worked under professor rowan)

....except chryssa avoided him. and turned down all of his offers to battle when he did find her. and the very few timea they did battle, she absolutely crushed him.

barry's journey was maybe a bit lonelier than expected.

but then he got a chance to study under crasher wake! ignore that wake didnt seem to want him around like everyone else! he was going to be as strong as his dad and this was going to help!

....if team galactic doesnt blow up sinnoh first. barry, despite a desire to help, doesn't get much done. he couldn't stop team galactic from blowing up the great marsh. he couldn't stop jupiter from taking uxie. he couldnt even make it to the peak of mt coronet in time to help there.

barry felt a bit useless and superfluous. he's strong, yea, but what's the point? he hasnt gotten his dads attention, he cant keep his friends, he cant make new ones, he cant help out.....

and uh. this is about where i am for barry. one of the things on my to do list for potential sinnoh fic is wrap up barry's plot line. have him talk to his dad, deal with his growing inferiority complex, all that. its one of those things i feel will be easier after actually writing it, alas, so I don't have much more to say.

but some other barry stuff!

adhd king as we all know

starts dating lucas as an adult. when they tell chryssa, she just kind of stares at them and says she thought theyd been dating for the past 5 years.

does make up with his dad and have a good conversation about everything. palmer never meant to make barry feel bad (and feels quite bad hinself for doing so on accident) and tries to make it up to him

eventually becomes a frontier brain? i have him as taking over from argenta but I'm not 100% married to that specific concept. i kinda want to see what others have for barry before definitively picking something

and that's barry! yay!