#and I realized I haven’t posted this set on tumblr yet.

[littlelilikoi]

🍊

[pinkykats-place]

Aemond Targaryen x Reader Insert Fics

Tumblr HotD Recommendations

Disclaimers!

The stories linked are NOT mine.

Some contain mature content.

Mostly female readers.

Note: if you read and enjoy any of these stories - please like, leave a comment and/or reblog original post!

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Series: When Pride Married Prejudice

Aemond Taargaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

summary: she is the (only) trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lord Laenor Velaryon. after her younger brother, Lucerys, slices out the eye of their uncle, Aemond Targaryen, her hand is offered as payment to keep the peace. though unexpected, she finds herself in a loving marriage, until devastating news forces her to make an impossible choice.

To Have and to Hold

Aemond Targaryen x F!Velaryon (Strong)!Reader

Summary: Reader goes to Storm's End with her younger brother and instead of asking for Lucerys' eye, Aemond claims her as his wife.

Blessed Curse

Aemond x F!Velaryon (Strong)!Reader

Synopsis: When a marriage between you and Aemond was arranged and forced by your grandsire, conflicting emotions arise, but which one will loom greater? Loathing or Love?

Loathe to Love

Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader

Synopsis: Seeking forgiveness is not a thing Aemond bothers himself with, but that quickly changes when he deeply offended you.

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧 (part 1)

Aemond targaryen x Reader velaryon(rhaena Daughter)

He Can't Have You

Aemond Targaryen x Velayron Targaryen!Reader

Summary: Hearing the news that his neice will marry Aegon. Aemond devises a plan to secure a marriage between himself and Y/n. As an added bonus, he loves the idea of claiming Y/n as his own.

Haven’t I Been Good to You? (18+)

Aemond x Velaryon!niece!Reader

Synopsis: Reader is pregnant and Rhaenyra’s heir/eldest daughter. An argument takes place after the dinner scene.

Mother Knows No Bounds

Aemond x wife!Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.

Blood Lust 

Aemond x Niece!Reader

Summary: With his ego inflated after Rook’s Rest, Aemond makes another move against the blacks — taking you.

Aemond x reader

Request: Sending Aemond dirty letters by raven while you are away at Dragonstone. She is betrothed to another Lord’s son, but they see each other whenever she visits. He fucks her hard as punishment for sending the letters + Imagine Aemond being completely enthralled by reader soft skin and perfumed hair. You can make it a smut if you want to.

Part 2

You were my man and I your girl

Aemond x Rhaenyra’s daughter!Reader

Summary: Facing the news of her impending betrothal, she makes a final, desperate act of rebellion. Though when she discovers she is to marry her dear uncle, the man she has longed for since childhood, she realizes she may have ruined their marriage before it even began.

Here & Now

Aemond targaryen x Targaryen!niece!Reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: on the morning you were set to return to Dragonstone to reunite with your family, the Greens make their move to take the throne, and Aemond comes to you.

Secret Visits

aemond x female!targaryen!reader

Summary: you are aemond's little sister and he visits you in your room after dinner (smut)

Sacrifices

Aemond x little-sister!Targaryen!Reader

description: Finally, after months of waiting, his beloved, younger sister becomes his wife. The task that awaits him as an older brother is not to cause her pain during the beautiful act in which they will finally become one.

GEVĪ [BEAUTIFUL] 

Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary: Two dragons, hatched from the same womb, nurtured by the same hands, yet bestowed with different fates— how do you, rekindle your love for Aemond after he has left you to pursue your mother and brother’s wishes? well he will show you how.  

“Made for me.”

Aemond x younger sister!Reader

Summary: As far as Aemond can remember, he had liked you, not in a way a brother loves his sister, no, in a way a man loves a woman, finding out that you were soon to be betrothed to a Tully for alliance, he feels devastated, until he decides he can prevent it, by ruining you.

Thorough 

aemond x preg!sister!wife!reader 

Summary: Aemond is overprotective while you’re pregnant but never ceases to make sure you have everything you need and are well satisfied.

headcanon to aemond obsessed with his half sister (daughter of Aemma and Viserys)

As You Wish Sister

Aemond x older!half-sister!Reader

His Most Diligent Student

aemond x twin sister!reader

Summary: Aemond helps his twin practice High Valyrian with the most peculiar of methods.

You are everything to me.

Aemond x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: Aemond Targaryen's twin sister is the only person who could consolidate him from the growing remorse that haunts him. He pays her a midnight visit in her chambers, seeking her for solace and comfort. As Aemond's sister provides him the needed comfort, they soon enough finds themselves carried away in the intensity of their closeness.

Burning Desire

Aemond x Older-sister!Reader

Summary: You rush off to confront your brother Aemond after discovering he hurt your sister, only to find him crying. You are angry at him for what he has done, but you cannot stand to see your little brother suffer.

Tenebris

Aemond x older sister!reader

Summary: Aemond comes back from Storm's End, rattled and flayed open, only to find comfort in his older sister's arms.

Deliverance

Aemond x older-sister!Reader

Summary: Following your nephew's death, you find aemond in need of comfort. As his older sister, who are you to deny him?

The Throne Was Meant For Us, My Dear

Aemond x Helaena’s Twin!Reader

Silver Sobs

Aemond Targaryen X Sister!reader

SYNOPSIS: After the terrifying battle which took place at Rook’s Rest, Aemond’s lust for power had still not subsided despite burning his own brother, the king of Westeros. He arrives at King’s Landing with one thing in mind; to claim everything that belongs to his brother which included — you, his sweet dear sister. The Queen.

Series: Paramour

Aemond x fem!Targaryen!cousin!Reader

Summary: When the succession of the Driftmark throne is put into question, Rhaenyra returns to the RedKeep along with her children, her husband Daemon and his daughter by the late lady Rhea, Y/N Targaryen, who is once again reunited with her childhood friend Aemond who she had grown distant with over the years.

Just A Touch

Aemond x fem!Targaryen!Cousin!Reader

Summary: During a ball made to celebrate the name day of King Viserys, Aemond falls in love with Daemon's first daughter, and he is eager to dance with her.

DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?

aemond targaryen x fem!cousin!reader

Ties That Bind

Aemond Targaryen X cousin!Reader

SUMMARY: After spending most of your childhood in the Red Keep, it’s hard to let go of the bonds you’ve formed even with war on the horizon.

Labyrinth

Aemond x targaryen!cousin!Reader

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Muña

Aemond Targaryen x aunt!Reader

Summary: At the start of the Dance of the Dragons, you host a familiar face. But it is not your husband who darkens your doorstep. It is his nephew.

a little death.

Aemond Targaryen x afab!Reader

Summary: Aemond was always sure he'd die in battle, surrounded by lesser men but here, balls deep in your pussy. Aemond understands there's nothing more fatal than the sight before him.

BORN TO DIE

Aemond x Targaryen Bastard!Reader

Summary: In a tense political setting, a Targaryen bastard working as a prostitute is summoned by Prince Aemond to the Red Keep. Aemond wants her to approach his dragon, Vhagar, as a test of her worth. Although he plans for her to claim another dragon in the future, her immediate challenge is to survive Prince Aemond demands while trying to stay alive.

Gold Rush

Aemond x Lannister!Reader

Synopsis: Everybody wants you, and I don’t like a gold rush.

I was all over her.

Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!Reader

Summary: When the world turned their back on him, she didn’t.

starry eyes sparking up my darkest night

aemond x female!tyrell!reader

Summary: Aemond has only wanted two things in his life. a dragon and to marry the pretty tyrell girl, now he has both.

warnings: smut, literally almost all smut very little plot, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), creampie, breeding kink, light innocence kink, light size kink, use of pet names, blood is mentioned two (2) times, aemond has a huge cock i don’t make the rules, and breeder balls, eye patch gets taken OFF when aemond fucks his lady wife, implied jealousy, implied voyeurism

Your beauty never scared me

Aemond x Tyrell!Reader

Unexpected Affections

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Synopsis: With just a smile, you had managed to bewitch and enthrall the stoic and cold prince.

Silent Passions

Aemond x Tyrell!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You and Aemond had been promised to one another before you were even born. And when the time came for you to meet, all were curious to see what was to come when soon to be spouses only shared one thing in common: your want of silence.

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader

SUMMARY: Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

Little Dragon

Aemond x wife!Tully!Reader

synopsis ; he was your fire, and you were his sea, willing to push and pull the tides at his behest

His Wife

Aemond х Tully!Wife!Reader

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v, lactation kink, cream pie

Series: The Dragon and The Wolf

Aemond x fem!Stark!Reader

Summary: As the eldest daughter of the Lord of Winterfell you knew your duty would arrive soon. When your father informs you of who you will wed you are most surprised and nervous.

Citrus

Aemond x fem!Dornish!Reader

Series: My Dornish Love

Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader

Warnings- arranged marriages, some sexual content

Touch Starved Aemond

Aemond x betrothed!fem!Reader

Summary: touch starved aemond aka aemond slowly falling in love with his betrothed by her gentle touches he was deprived of all his life

The Woes of Betrothals

Synopsis: Recently betrothed, Prince Aemond is unsure on the virtues befitting that of a good husband. Ser Criston offers some surprisingly useful insight. 

Look after you

Summary: You were betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, and while the two of you got along well enough, you hardly behaved as man and wife. After you suffer a great loss, Aemond decides to change that. (Hurt/Comfort)

mad blood stirring

Aemond x betrothed!f!Reader

(inspired by the scene in s1e5 where harwin rescues rhaenyra during the wedding feast)

Aemond is seeing Reader for the first time and can't help what he is feeling...lust.

Pearl of The Realm

Aemond x newlywed!reader

Summary: Duty meant a lot of things to Aemond. But he had hoped that it would not mean marriage. And when the day comes for him to confront it, he finds with his new wife, small, naiive and innocent, that there is some pleasure to be found there also.

The King’s Retribution

Aemond x Aegon’s Wife!Reader

Summary: when he walks back to the Keep, Aemond finds his brother’s wife in distress while her youngest child keeps her awake. Maybe it’s time to show the King that no one can humiliate the one-eyed prince.

Play Your Hand

aemond targaryen x noblewoman!reader

summary | When Aemond the Kinslayer descends upon Harrenhal, a dazzling prize awaited him— the widow of Harwin Strong.

Series: The moon and his sun

Aemond x noble lady!Reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

The Art of Persuasion

Aemond x noble-lady!Reader

Summary - A determined woman uses her strategic charm to win the favour of the powerful Prince Regent. She navigates a delicate dance of influence and intimacy, aiming to transform their fraught relationship into a potent alliance while exploring the limits of their mutual desire.

Series: Little Lamb 

Aemond Targaryen x high-born!Reader

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

Can't help falling in love

Aemond x noble lady! Reader

Summary: 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings

Imagine: Aemond finds himself in a competition for his crush’s attention when his cousin from Essos arrives at Kingslanding

Aemond Targaryen x chubby!noble!Reader

Not a child anymore

Aemond Targaryen x older!fem! Reader

SUMMARY — You are Queen Alicent’s favourite young lady in waiting and Prince Aemond’s childhood friend. However, he is sick and tired of you viewing him as nothing but a child when he is a man now and he will not let anyone else have you.

Good as Gold

aemond targaryen x lady-in-waiting!reader

summary: You found yourself the object of the Prince Aemond's stares, the reason why, you knew not.

Servant

Aemond x fem!maid!Reader

“I want you to watch me”

Chamber Maid

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Take Me Down To The River, And Bathe Me Clean

Aemond x maid!Reader

SUMMARY: The Gods have sent her for him, and he'll have her if it's the last thing he does.

Devil's Snare

Aemond x maid!Reader

Summary: Y/N is apprehensive when she is assigned the post of Aemond Targaryen's handmaiden. She expects him to be cold and cruel, and is surprised when he is actually kindle and gentle to her. All the while Aemond finds himself falling for his shy and skittish handmaiden.

An Act of Service

Aemond Targaryen x servant!reader 

Summary: Your father has loyally served the Iron Throne and royal family for many years. No one would ever assume the Grand Maester wanted more for his family's name until he has the opportunity to send his daughter to help treat the pain that's plagued Prince Aemond since the childhood injury that cost him his eye.

Humble Servant 

king!aemond targaryen x servant!reader

Summary: Working under the service of king Aemond Targaryen, you were eager to attend to his every need.

Mother’s madness

Aemond x f!lowborn!reader

Summary: Aemond, troubled by his unfruitful marriage and the stress of the war, takes himself a bedslave when he seizes Harrenhal and gets more attached to her than he ever thought possible. Bringing her to the Red Keep after he needs to leave Harrenhal would not go as he hoped it would, especially after the birth of the babes he sired onto her.

HC: Touchy reader

His Darkest Secret

Aemond x brothel worker!reader

Summary: In Madam Sylvi’s absence, the care of the Targaryen prince that frequents your brothel is left in your good hands. His needs, you find, are unlike anything you’d ever encountered….

holy/unholy

Summary: Aemond has become enamoured by a whore of the Street of Silk.

Sweet caresses

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: fluff, mommy issues ( i mean come on), talk of death, no use of y/n, gn reader, prostitution

Valyrian Blood: Of Old Valyria

Aemond x prostitute!Reader

Summary: Aemond's affection lies with you ever since he saw you in the Street of Silk. Even though you are a prostitute and do not think things can change for you, Aemond will do anything to make you his and get you out of the whore house. After all, you both do share the Blood of Old Valyria.

In the Eye of the Beholder

Summary: Compared to his elder brother, who abused the offerings on the Street of Silk, Aemond’s tastes have always been…tame. 

Aemond x brothel worker reader

Beneath a Dragon's Gaze

Aemond x sex worker!Reader

Summary: With Madame Sylvi indisposed on the evening Prince Aemond comes to visit, he requests someone different

The needs of a prince are the work of a whore.

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

summary: after aegon's mockery at the brothel, he pushes Aemond into having another whore. Anything royalty asks for, it is the brothel's duty to provide.

hold me, heal me

aemond targaryen x older!f!reader

summary: he comes to you in the dark of night, seeking solace, when mistakes are made and lives are lost.

ilībio

Aemond x female!whore!reader

Summary: Aemond finds comfort in your cunt

Nightblooms

Aemond x fem

Summary: It was a single night, such a trivial moment, two children sharing lemon cakes in a brothel, but she has not forgotten it. He will not recognise her, surely?

𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬

Aemond x fem!Reader

Summary: after facing embarrassment from Aegon’s intrusive visit, Sylvi helps Aemond find attraction with someone closer to his own age.

Sub!Aemond x Dom!Reader

Synopsis: Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen's tantrums have pushed the courtiers to their limit. Only y/n can handle his defiance, using firm discipline and control to tame him. Through a night of punishment and domination, y/n pushes Aemond to the brink, teaching him to submit and find solace in her authority.

Devout Worshiper

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Synopsis: The Prince Regent expresses his carnal desire and devotion to you atop the Iron Throne.

Series: Call It Dreaming

Aemond x modern!female!Reader

Summary: You have a delightful sex dream.

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

Alys Rivers x wife!Reader x Aemond

Aemond Targaryen x Reader Masterlist

[everythingwrongwithizumi]

Awkwardly Awarding

pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

warning: 18+, porn with plot, smut, dead relative, unprotected sex, oral(f), praise kink?, fingering, hickeys, teasing, pet names (nothing crazy!), squirting, overstimulation, Gojo being Gojo?, lmk if there’s anymore u see!

w/c: 5.8k

a/n: HELPPP😭 No one asked but heres an idea that came to me while I was playing the Sims TT First time writing smut lmk what u thinkkk ;) Also Tumblr being weird so hopefully this posts!

The death of my father wasn’t one I was not expecting. I mean sure, he was a nice dad, but he was never really there when I needed him. Instead of sitting around and complaining about him like I usually did I kept quiet this entire week. I was alone now and in an entirely new area with entirely new people. Arriving at the apartments was a bit overwhelming, to say the least.

The intense amount of traffic, high buildings, and busy streets were definitely sensory overload, but it didn’t matter because the view was absolutely phenomenal. Before Dad bit the bullet he did leave me a huge sum of money which allowed me to purchase my second ever apartment.

My last apartments did not compare to these newer ones, plus they were centered more in the city which meant I was now paying twice my old rent for this new apartment, but that’s what a trust fund is for, right? I didn’t have a lot to move, but it was still enough to fill up a small rented truck from the movers.

The hard part was now done! Was what I thought once all the boxes were moved into the apartment however, the organizing was actually going to cause me to jump off of this building through my beautiful window.

I went through the first few boxes with ease that was until I ran into my childhood things— yes I keep them in a separate box. Quietly I pulled stuffed animal after stuffed animal. Those didn’t hurt as much as the stuffed animal made in memory of my first late dog.

I couldn’t stop the tears from coming as I gripped the dog… Dick… oh how I missed that dog. His name wasn’t Dick that was the stuffed animals name, after the late Moby— who was my actual dog.

After a night of crying I had drag myself out of my makeshift bed made out of pillows and blankets because I was dumb enough not to buy an air mattress. This was the same job I had been working at previously.

Once I got home it was like feeling of dread washed over me. So, instead of cleaning and unpacking I found my self ordering Pizza. I’m not going to lie, I did pick up a few things but after I put up my landscape themed calendar I realized I forgot one big important thing.

A desk…

I rushed to grab my phone and open the Amazon app and after doing so typing up “desk” in the search engine. And after a minute of scrolling and biting my thumb nail I found the perfect one!

It had white drawers down the right side and a beautiful oak that would go well with the frame of the bed I had yet to put together. I sighed at the price, I guess left overs will have to do for dinner. It wasn’t that I was poor buuuut I spend a lot on the deposit for this place and I still had bills to pay and set up.

A couple of minutes later, still in my work clothes, I heard the doorbell ring. My tummy ached for the steamy and hot pepperoni pizza… there was a $5 deal…

I got up and walked to the front door. Out of habit, I looked through the peephole only to feel my mouth water at the sight…and smell. I opened the door wide open with a wide smile. After u paid for the pizza then sat down to eat said pizza, I packed it up and put it in the fridge this place came with.

“It came with all of the utilities,” my best friend I met at work asked. I sat the phone down on my makeshift bed before stripping to get into something more comfortable for bed, “Yes! And everything works—well I haven’t had to wash anything yet but we’ll see.”

I could hear my friend agree through the phone with a hum, “I suppose that’s why it’s so expensive.” I chuckled at her reasoning “Oh yeah, I’m definitely getting my pennies worth.” We talked a little while longer and she offered to come help since she knew someone in the area or in the same apartment but I told her it was fine.

Heading into work with a sore back was not ideal especially if you are standing all day which is not what I was doing exactly. The drive home was lengthier which meant I was more tired than usual. I almost had to pull over to take a quick nap, but I was on the highway so it wouldn’t even have worked out for me.

Once I made it home I was eager to shed off the clothing of running around delivering papers and sitting at a desk doing hand exercises so my hands wouldn’t cramp for how many emails I have to write.

Now left in my lazy but simple lacey lingerie I walked to the kitchen and pulled out a pizza and heated it up. My ears perked up at a notification going off from my phone on the counter. I grabbed it and was shown a picture of the box that contained my desk in it sitting beside my door.

I glanced at the time at the top left corner of my phone… 3:46 am… no one would be up at this time, right? I looked down at my body and waited for a couple of minutes to ensure the delivery guy was gone. I took a peak out the window and watched as his giant van of Amazon shit rode away.

I walked to the front door and opened it, the cool air of the hallway making the buds of my nipples perk up. I shivered and looked down at the box, it was quite big, but no match for me!

I tried to pull it from the side failing miserably so I opted to push it into my doorframe. I checked around the hall quickly, not spotting anyone I got behind the box and bent down to push the box forward. The grunts coming from my mouth covered the sound of a door opening right behind me.

I pushed my legs back and finally pushed the box fully in through the door of my apartment. I stood up straight and sighed placing a hand on my head because being lightheaded was enough for me. Still, I clearly wasn’t aware of the wide eyes of my neighbor right behind me who had been staring at my ass.

I turned to close the door and found myself face to face with my neighbor who stood in his own doorframe. My eyes widened and my ears started burning from embarrassment as I looked down to see what I was wearing.

I slammed the door shut and slumped against the door, my hands covering my face. If I wasn’t so caught up in the way I was dressed or feeling I would’ve noticed how handsome and hot my neighbor was.

Letting out a squeal of embarrassment I got up and just left the box in the entrance and went to grab my pizza that I had left in my microwave that was also provided.

Wanting to ignore whatever happened, I decided to turn in for the night and put my dish in the sink and padded my way to my bedroom with the bed still not made. Groaning out of frustration I took my place in the mess of the blankets and stuffed animals with a pillow or two.

Gojo

There was no way that happened, right? I’ve seen naked women all the time, but only as they present themselves. It’s been a minute since I’d seen someone naked not trying to impress anyone—or was she?

Taking a second to stop and bend over I looked at the watch on my hand,

4:20 am

Damn. I looked up and that’s when I felt it. The tightness in my joggers. This was going to be a long and uncomfortable run when all I could think about were her long and pretty legs. She looked like she smelt like lavender vanilla.

I groaned and began running once more around the city, the buildings never ending and the chatter and laughter never ceased. One girl— drunk no doubt—made eye contact with me. She was blonde, thin, and her tits we’re practically hanging out and when she turned and looked back at me my eyes shifted to her ass.

It was big, unnaturally so which made my mind travel back to her… when she bent over, the way her laced panties rode up the valley of her ass. The soft outline of her pussy, wonder what it would taste like?

Shit.

I had to come to a stop and fix my problem before it looked like I visibly pissed myself. “Hey,” I turn at the nasally voice behind me. I saw the way she looked at me up and down and letting my pride take over I smirked and glanced over her body for a second time.

She wasn’t with her friends this time which meant she sought me out in purpose. “Hey there,” she giggled at the dip in my voice, right on track. She offered for me to go back to her place just a block away, walking up to me and placing her hands on my biceps.

The walk there was mostly her talking about her friends and how much she hated them because she “knew” they were jealous of her. I didn’t really care and let her yap on, the hardness of my dick lessening as she spoke more and more.

As soon as we made it in her lips were on my neck and her hands were sliding under my shirt. Taking it off I forced her on her knees which made her grin up at me as she pulled the sweats I was wearing down.

Placing my hand on her head my mind went back to her… the way her h/c spread across her shoulders and the way her butt jiggled when she pushed the box through that door. The more I thought about her the closer I felt to cuming.

Y/n

“Ughh how long is this going to take,” I nearly pulled the hair out of my head in frustration. I was in the bathroom of my office and was currently trying to avoid the meeting. “You know no matter how hard you tug you won’t pull the boredom out of your head,” I turned to see my best friend smirking.

“Shoko, I feel like I’m going to die. I’m so under stimulated,” I practically whine and she just laughed and walked next to me. “Let’s go back, besides we get off in an hour and a half so this meeting shouldn’t last long,” her words naught some comfort to me as I sighed.

I pulled her in for a hug to which she returned, “What would I do without you,” I mumbled into her suit jacket backing her chuckle. “Let’s go out for drinks tonight, we both have the day off tomorrow in a long time,” she held me back from my shoulders.

Now that sounded amazing but I only sighed and felt myself visibly deflate, “I can’t, I still have a couple of things to unpack—“

“So come out when you’re done—“ Shoko interrupted making me frown even more, “I have to build a desk, Shoko.” Her face winced at that. The last time we both tried to build one it fell apart after we placed my computer in it, breaking to computer and the desk.

“How does tomorrow sound,” she spoke through her teeth cringing at the thought of building. I laugh at her suggestion and nodded. We both went back to the meeting and sat there for nearly two. More. Hours.

I know I needed the over time, but this was ridiculous. After another 30 minutes I looked at the clock to find it was 8:05pm. Then we were dismissed, the room filling with grumbles and mumbles of distain.

Once again, the ride home was long but out of sheer anger and annoyance I found myself eager to get home and build that damn desk so I can have fun tomorrow. Making in the building and to the elevator I sensed someone was standing beside me.

I glanced and nearly gasped at the sight of my handsome neighbor. The elevator dinged and we both made our way inside. The silence was deafening and the awkwardness was heavy. I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see his face but was pulled out of my thoughts by his deep and soothing voice.

“I’m Satoru Gojo, haven’t had the pleasure of formally meeting you,” I opened an eye to look down and see he held his hand out. Then I looked up at his face and instinctively gripped his hand when the elevator shook.

“Y/n, it’s nice to meet you too…formally,” I wanted to shrink into a hole and die. His chuckle made my belly flutter and my chest tighten. The elevator dinged causing the both of us to let go of each others hand and get off.

We both walked side my side with each other, still in awkward silence. Stopping at our doors we stood there for a good minute not saying anything. I heard his mouth open as he was about to speak before I beat him to it, “Come inside?”

He nearly fell to his knees when he heard it.

“S-sorry,” his voice waived causing me to shake my head in embarrassment, “It’s okay if not, I understand it’s been a long day. I just wanted to welcome you into my new home as a friendly neighbor.” Was I stupid? Inviting a stranger— a man! Into my home.

I could practice at my dead dad screaming at the top of his lungs about me being stupid. “Sure,” his response caught me off guard. He was stuttering and mumbling just a second ago, now he’s running a hand through his hair and smirking?

I roll my eyes and we both walk into my home. I notice his eyes go to the box containing my desk on the floor as I try hard to ignore it. “It’s… not much and I’m still waiting to get a couple more pieces of furniture, but with my budget it’s gonna have to wait,” I gesture to the mostly blank living room and dinning area.

Really, the only places completely done were the bathrooms and the kitchen. I needed to set up my office and my bedroom. “It’s nice… cozy” he says looking around making me fake a laugh “haha,” this in turn causes him to laugh, a sound I never want to forget.

I walk to the fridge and open it, “I apologize, I don’t have much as far as food so I’ve just been eating takeout. Need to go grocery shopping by the end of this week,” I hear him hum in acknowledgment, “No it’s fine, I ate beforehand.”

A moment of awkward silence washes over us before he breaks it, “your desk.” What an odd thing to say. I look up at him in confusion. He’s standing on one side of the island while I stand on the other. I watch as he glances to the box in the entrance, “you still haven’t built you desk?”

I sigh in embarrassment, “N-no I haven’t really had the time.” I raise my hand to nervously scratch the back of my neck. The next words that come out of his mouth make my eyes light up, “I can build it for you. If you want?”

“Yes!” I answered a bit too quickly making his eyebrow raise. “I’m sorry I just—I’m no good at building and I asked my friend but she’s also not good at building,” he nods in understatement before he walks over to the box. “Where do you want it,” he asks picking up the box with ease making my jaw drop.

He walks over with the box in his hands, the veins in his hands and arms popping out making me gulp. “Sweetheart I’m gonna need you to use your words,” I look up at the words usually used for endearment. A faint blush rises to me cheeks as I point to an area in the living room.

“O-over there is—is uh fine,” I tell him and I hear the box run against his hair which meant he nodded in acknowledgement. Once he set it down he pulled out a pocket knife making me jump and he stabbed box open.

Who the hell carries a knife with them in the cit— that was a stupid thing to question. My eyes fall to his arms as he tolls his sleeves up, the oversized dress shirt accentuating the veins on his arms. Instinctively, my thighs clutch together as I watch from the kitchen island.

He grunts as he pulls out the large wooden plank causing me to bite my lip and he sets it up against the wall. Now all the pieces were out along the empty floor. He claps his hand together, “thank you for the build,” he speaks to no one.

Is he serious? Did he just turn a common eating phrase into a building phrase. Odd guy, I like him. I want him… “what do you think,” I was caught off guard once more by his panting and out of breath sentence.

Gulping I look to see that he’s done with the drawers, “I-it looks really good Gojo.” His smile grows wider, “call me Satoru!” I chuckle at his expression. Demon. How can someone so sexy speak so cutely.

Shifting my weight to my other leg I freeze at the sensation. I was wet… and it felt uncomfortable except for the fact that it was caused by Gojo. I took another glance and noticed his stance. He had one knee in the ground and the other balanced him out, foot placed firmly on the ground.

He didn’t look hard but boy, can eyes be deceiving. “Alright,” he spoke in a song making me giggle at him. He was sure adorable when he wanted to be. Was he done already? I can’t believe I was so in my head I didn’t even her him hammering or drilling the screws.

“I just need to place this on top and secure it then I’m all done,” he grinned at me and put his hand on the wood plank still being held up by the wall. Now that I had the chance, I glanced at his body full over. His hair was slightly disheveled and there were light traces of sweat coming down his forehead and neck.

Feeling embarrassed I let out gasp and walk to the cabinet with the cups and pull one out before placing it under the ice dispenser and changing it to dispense filtered water. Unaware of Gojo watching me and my form with an unfamiliar gaze.

Then I make my way over to him and notice the desk was now finished. “I couldn’t thank you enough, but here’s some water,” I tell him with a worried voice and shove the glass into his hands. His fingers grazed my as he walked closer to me.

I felt my breath hitch as I look up at the man who was now towering over me, “There might be a way—but ah~ I don’t wanna sound so sleezy,” I watch as he backs up slightly and his hand lightly shakes the back of his neck.

“N-no, not at all! Anything,” the tone in my voice unintentionally drops at the last word. His eyes narrow and then I feel his hands being placed on my hips. The water had been discarded and placed in the desk. At least it didn’t crumble under the pressure of water.

He brings one hand up and places it under my chin pulling me closer to his face as he leans down. “Let me taste you,” my thighs rub together at the raspyness of his voice. Noticing his eyes were now on my lips I let my gaze fall to his.

No way a man this beautiful with such beautiful lips had one of the most filthiest—in a good way— sentence come out of his mouth. I couldn’t take it, it felt like all night I was being teased so I gave in.

I wrapped my arms around his neck pulling him into me, his lips puckered and pressed against mine. The kiss was heavy and needy. Just then, I felt the eagerness and desperation in the actions of his tongue. I let my mouth open slightly as his tongue slid inside.

His hands gripped my waist and turned me so my ass was pressed against the desk he had just built. He stops the kissing momentarily to speak, “let’s see how good this desk really is,” his voice sounded nearly like a purr.

I let out a soft hum in agreement as his hands slid down to the underside of my thighs, giving them a squeeze to signal to jump back onto the desk. As soon as I was on it he waisted no time placing his lustful lips all over my neck causing small moans to escape my mouth.

His hand made its way down to where I desperately needed him the most. Feeling me twitch beneath him, I could feel the smirk against my skin. That didn’t stop him from sucking my neck like a sex crazed teenager.

“Can I take this off of you baby,” he mumbled against the skin of my neck, the vibrations causing another moan to slip from my mouth. “Yes, please Gojo,” he didn’t like this. He ripped down the work pants I had on and the panties I was wearing as well.

“How many times will I have to keep saying it, say my name,” he almost sounded like a little kid having to give up their rights to their favorite toy. His hands were back on me as he pulled me closer to the edge of the desk rather harshly.

His hand also made its way back to my now unclothed center causing me to gasp. His eyes widened as he pulled back entirely and looked down then back up at me. The look on his face was one I’ll never forget.

He looked so genuinely happy and the way his eyes were wide with excitement made my heart and my pussy swell. He looked at me with pure adoration, something I rarely have done to me especially by men.

“Shit, is this all for me,” he beamed in excitement and when I nodded he fell to his knees at the sight in front of him. “It’s so pretty…” I felt the familiar heat rise in my cheeks, was I really embarrassed by his words?

My body tensed as he took two of his fingers and slid them down my labia, his way of teasing. I glanced down at him and he looked like he’d never seen pussy before making me slightly nervous. Then I felt it, the warm almost hot, thick, and wet muscle making contact with me.

He took his tongue and slid it from the base of my vagina all the way to the hood of my clit. I didn’t miss the way his tongue disappeared in between my folds and pussy lips. The sight making me more wet.

He looked up at me and I could see the clear but faintly white discoloration on his tongue before swallowing it in front of me, “oh you taste heavenly, just like I thought.” His hands were now hooked around my thighs as his tongue once again made contact with my pussy.

This time he licked around where I needed him the most causing me to squirm, “Satoru~,” he hummed at my whining, “Use your words sweetheart.” I couldn’t do this anymore, “Satoru eat me out already,” I begged causing him to chuckle lightly.

He wasted no time licking a stripe up all the way to my clit before wrapping his puffy lips around it. My hand flew straight to his beautiful head full of white hair. This only encouraged him to suck on my clit before releasing and placing a kiss on it before moving by down to lap at my entrance.

“S-Satoru,” I moaned out forcing my head back in pleasure. The hum of contempt send vibrations through my pussy causing my thighs to tighten around his head. He pushed forward and used his hands to spread my legs apart.

I looked down and the sight nearly made me cum on my own, Satoru's blue eyes were staring right up at me and instead of his wide ones, I was met with half lidded and dazed blue eyes. The tip of his nose was glistening under the living room light and his hair was moving as his head was shaking side to side with his tongue landing on my clit each time.

I forced my other hand onto his head in attempt to push him into me further. He showed no interest in backing away as he continued to suck and lap at my clit and folds. The ludicrous sounds echoed through the mostly empty apartment and the tightening in my belly pulled me back down to Satoru, “T-Toru..hng…I’m gonna cum—please, p-please let me cum.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” The vibrations from his sweet voice sent me over the edge as the grip on his hair only tightened and I attempted to push his head away so I wouldn’t be overstimulated, he however had other plans.

He retreated his lips from my throbbing clit with a pop and looked up at me as he inserted a finger through my hole. I gasped and looked down at him and he grinned at the sight of the flushed look on my face. “Toru,” I whined which only made him shush me, “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna make you feel real good again, okay?”

I could only nod as I felt another finger join inside me. He smirked and began pushing them in and out at a steady pace making me gasp, “D-don’t stop, Toru,” he hummed in response and I felt the familiar warm lips wrap around my clit once more as the pace of his fingers sped up and began curling upwards inside of me.

I tried to mask the lewd moans coming out of my lips by placing my hands over my mouth. Another pop was heard and his lips were off of my and now frowning, “Don’t do that. Let the neighbors know how good I make you feel, scream if you have to,” he muttered the last part with a smirk before diving back in to lap at my pussy.

His words encouraged me to place the hand that was once over my mouth and into his head once again. Soon, I felt the feeling coming back again only this time, it nearly burned and caused my body to twitch against him. “T-Toru wait—there’s something—ah!”

I threw my head back as he pulled away slightly with an open mouth while his fingers continued to fuck me. The moans I let out sounded almost like screams of pleasure. Coming down from that high I looked down feeling my body and my legs trembling at Satoru.

His face was now covered in my juices and his hair was slightly damp. I blushed in embarrassment as his eyes looked up at me, sparkling. “I think I just came in my pants,” he admitted causing my eyes to widen as I spread my legs to look down.

Sure enough there was a stain in them, but it didn’t look like he was soft or getting softer. “If you’re alright with it, I don’t have a condom and I’d like to fuck the shit out of you,” my mouth gapped at his forwardness. After a couple of second of him smiling at me I spoke up, “Y-yes, I’m not on birth control and I’m clean so…”

His smile only grew, “I’m clean too!” Before I knew it, he was helping me take off my shirt and pulling his pants down along with his underwear. His eyes immediately flew to my chest and he lean forward to kiss the skin on my neck, littered with bruises now showing.

My eyes widened at his length. I had been with men, sure, but him? His dick was hard which caused it to stand up in the air with a slight curve upwards. It was lengthy just like he was—if I had to guess, 8 inches? He also had girth to him, it wasn’t huge but it was definitely big enough to hurt.

I felt his dick rub against my thigh as his lips trailed down to my chest. He reached an arm around to unclip the bra and pull it away. I could feel him twitch in excitement again as he watched my breasts fall free, the buds hardening at the coolness of the room.

I then felt his familiar wet and hard tongue drag around my nipple causing me to let out a soft moan and his eyes shot up to me. He smirked and used his other hand to pinch and roll the bud while his lips wrapped around the other causing my back to arch into him and his touch.

“T-Toru,” a hand flew to his head and ran from the nape of his neck to the top of his head and I felt him twitch against me again. “Hmm~” he moaned against me. “Please… please fuck me,” his eyes stayed on me and he lightly nibbled on my bud, then I felt him twitch against me again with his eyes closed.

Releasing my nipple with a pop he brought his hands to hook around my legs, spreading them apart as he bent his slightly to angle himself. The height of the desk was perfect for this exact reason.

I felt his warm tip trace up and down my slit causing me to whine, “Don’t tease Toru~ please…” he only grinned and lean forward to catch my lips in a kiss.

Then I felt it, he slowly entered inside of my causing my body to shift in slight discomfort. He groaned and wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me closer. Once he was in fully, bottoming me out, did he release the kiss.

“I knew you’d be mine the second I laid eyes on your pretty body,” the words would sound disgusting and rude if they weren’t coming from the most beautiful man known to man. That and his intentions. I bit my lip and earned him to move with my legs wrapped around him pushing him against me even closer.

He chuckled softly and lean forward to place one hand at the edge of the desk while his other held me up. I glanced down at the veins on his arms before pulling his face in for a kiss. He pulled out till his tip was almost out until he pushed back in causing me to moan against his lips.

After getting comfortable and him doing that a few times I whined, “Toru, faster,” he shook his head with a lopsided grin, “You’re such a baby.” I had no time to react to his words as he began to pick up the pace of his hips, snapping forward causing light screeches to come from the desk.

I moaned his name as I wrapped my arms around his neck the feeling of his cock throbbing in my pussy sending shivers through my body. He grunted and moaned in my face wrapping the hand that was holding me now placing it around the bottom of my chin. “Such a pretty pussy, you like that huh? I do~”

The sound of skin slapping echoed through the apartment as well as Satoru’s teases and praises. The grip under my chin releases and now he’s upright, pushing my legs back to fold and places them on his shoulders, not easing up on his thrusts.

The angle causes him to hit that spot causing the familiar feeling to bubble in my chest, “You gonna cum on my cock pretty girl?” He grinned and placed a hand on my pussy before rubbing side to side. I felt my back arch and my moans turned into squeals, “that’s right pretty girl, cum on my cock. You can do it, fuck…” he threw his head back increasing his pace in both his hips and fingers.

After a few seconds of thrashing around I feel myself tightening around him and releasing. His hips began stuttering but his hand didn’t stop and soon I felt the same other feeling flow through my body and the sounds of spurting fills the air, joining the symphony of lewd noises.

“Fuck!” I hear a shout from Satoru and he pulls out of my overstimulated pussy. I look down and watch as ropes of thick, hit, white cum shoots onto my pussy, belly, and the bottom of my chest. I take a moment to watch his body, he’s shuttering and shaking in pleasure. His eyes are glued onto my core as he releases.

After a minute of both of us panting and giggling, Satoru steals a kiss before hooking his arms around my legs pulling me into bridal style, walking me into my bedroom. “Where’s your bed,” he asks looking down at me. Shyly, I point to the big box on the other side of the room that had a 2d model of what the bed should look like.

He chuckled and shook his head before walking to the bathroom and placing me in the tub. The aftercare was amazing and dare I say hot. He had taken a bath with me and offered to have me sleepover at his place to which I was too tired to disagree.

So after we clean up and I give him a pair of oversized sweats that were a little too big on me, we made our way across the hall to his apartment. It looked exactly like mine in terms of the layout but the decoration was minimalist with hints of maximalist, in the bedroom was no different. I guess that’s how he knew my layout…

We both got into his king sized( obviously) bed and I felt his arms wrap around me to pull me close to him. “Satoru,” I call him name softly and he replies with a tired hum. “You thought about fucking me,” I question, bringing up a previous sentence he said. This made him burst out in a tired laughter causing my to pull back slightly and look up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s what you took away from all that?”

“I forgot about it…”

[musings-of-a-rose]

I Don't Want to See Tomorrow (Unless I See It With You) - Chapter 6

Pairing: Benny Miller x wife!reader nicknamed “Juni”

Word Count: 3500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: This is it, folks! I had some little short story ideas for this fic. Maybe I’ll write them one day if people want. HUGE shoutout to @laurfilijames for listening to me babble about this fic. I hope you enjoy your husband Will! And also to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to my crazy messages about a world she’s not terribly familiar with. I hope you enjoy your guest spot!  This is not beta’d - we yeet and post.

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My eyes blink, trying to focus as I will them to open, my head spinning and aching at the back from whatever hit me. I bring my hand to the back of my head and feel a knot, but no blood. Or at least it’s dried. I hope that’s a good thing. 

The floor beneath me is hard and dirty, which isn’t out of the norm, but a memory stirs at the back of my mind, pulling at the edges of memory.

“And they said Raiders can’t be sneaky!”

My eyes finally focus and I try to sit up, my head lightly scraping against a hard surface. I feel above me a hard roof, my fingers scrambling to try and find an edge. But then my eyes land on the bars in front of me and I realize - I’m in a cage. On all fours, I move around and finally find the door, which of course is firmly locked. I grip the bars, squeezing them tight before I shake the door gently. It doesn’t budge. 

Part of me wants to scream and yell, but I’ve seen enough of those old movies to know that it won’t do me any good. No one will let me out or I wouldn’t be in here to begin with. I take a look around the dingy, poorly-lit room and see no one. Just half broken furniture and some rusty shelves with various parts of metal, some canned foods, and…is that a board game? It’s not until I see the needle full of Jet (a drug) on the table that I know who took me for certain. My memory was not failing me. 

Raiders.

I have no idea why they would take me, but I do know that I’m fucked. It does give me a little hope that they haven’t done anything yet. Maybe they’re waiting for me to wake up….

I quickly lay back down, curling into the same position I had woken from. I keep my eyes open, studying my prison for as long as I can. But when I hear the footsteps growing closer, I close them gently, hoping that I can still look like I’m asleep. Heavy footsteps shuffle in, 2 sets as far as I can hear. I don’t dare open my eyes.

“Still out?” a deep voice asks.

“Seems so.” The bars of my cage rattle as the second man shakes the cage. I don’t move. “Yeah. I’d say she is.”

The first man groans. “I wish she’d wake up. Maybe the boss would let us torture her a bit while we’re waiting on Nightshade.”

Benny. Of course. That’s why they took me. Benny missed several drop offs and he’d assumed they would think he was dead. Apparently, he thought wrong.

“Yeah but the boss said no touching. That we’re waitin’ on what’s owed us. And Nightshade won’t be nice if we hurt what’s his.”

Some more grumbling from the first man before something clanks on the floor next to the bars of my cage and they shuffle out. I wait a few minutes before moving, making sure no one else was coming. When nothing happens, I crack an eye open and scan the area. A can of Pork N’ Beans sits next to the cage, slightly open with what I’m assuming is a fork sticking out of it. Next to it is a bottle of questionable at best water. My throat is terribly dry and my stomach betrays me with a low grumble at the sight of the can. I doubt they’re going to poison me, as they could’ve killed me at any time. That’s the Raider way. Same goes for drugging. They could’ve put a line in my or anything while I was out but they didn’t. They need me alive. 

I take a very small sip of water and nibble from the can, making sure to place them back where they had been left, just in case they return quickly. They would think I was still out. But no one comes back and as the time goes on to what may be night, I start to wonder if they’ll come back. Maybe I’ll be left to die in this crate. I decide to chance another couple nibbles and sips, gently placing the containers back. 

A few hours later, I hear another set of footsteps coming closer. I get back in my fake sleeping position, listening to whomever was shuffling in. Definitely different than the first 2 people. These steps are more confident, like they know what they’re doing. I hear them stop by the cage door, standing there for several moments before heading over to the couch and slumping down on it.  

“I know you’re awake.”

Fuck. Well, no use pretending. I open my eyes and sit up as best as I can, staring at the man on the couch. He’s definitely a Raider, the patchy clothes and scars littering his shirtless body are a big indicator. As is the shoulder plate armor with giant spikes coming from it. He’s got a scar across his cheek and a tattoo of some kind of marking around his eyes. He scratches at the short mohawk on his head, plopping down another piece of armor from his body on the makeshift coffee table in front of him. 

“I’m Draven. Who are you to Nightshade?”

Doesn’t even ask my name. Rude.

“Juni.”

“What’s a Juni?”

I scoff. “My name. Since you didn’t ask.”

He cocks his head slightly. “I’m shocked you told me. I thought you’d have told me to fuck off.”

I nod. “Thought about it.”

His eyebrows raise. “And?”

I shrug. “I figured it wouldn’t get me anywhere.”

He laughs. “Logical. I like that. And funny. No wonder Nightshade keeps you close. Well….most times anyway.”

I cross my arms, willing my nerves to calm down. “What do you want with him?” 

“Ain’t you gonna ask me why you’re here?”

I gesture vaguely. “As a sort of bait or something from Nightshade, I assume.”

He nods. “Or something.” He glances down at the can and jar of water. “You can eat and drink. It’s not poisoned. Water might not be the cleanest but it’s what we got. We never got the parts to fix our purifier.”

I study him for a moment, his dark eyes looking more intense surrounded by the markings. I decide he’s telling the truth and reach for the bottle, taking several sips before setting it to the side and taking a few bites of the beans, my eyes never leaving Draven. He watches me finish eating before shifting on the couch to lay down, tossing his arm over his forehead.

“You don’t have to worry about my people hurtin’ you. I forbid it. As long as you’re cooperative.”

Is that supposed to be comforting? “How long am I going to be here?”

“Just waiting on your boss, hon.”

Boss? Keeps me close? It dawns on me that Draven must think I’m Nightshade’s property. He has no clue how deep Benny’s love for me is. He may not even think that Benny will come for me, but decided to take the chance. 

Draven yawns loudly. “I figure I have nothing to lose. On one hand, if he shows, I’ll be able to get what’s ours. On the other, if he doesn’t think you’re worth it, I get a pretty girl to keep all to myself. Either way, I win.”

I feel the color drain from my face, even though I kind of figured that it wouldn’t end well for me if Benny didn’t show. Question is, how soon will he make it here? Will it be in time?

On the 3rd day in my cage, I’m wakened by various yells and whoops, Draven quickly sitting up on the couch. He looks over at me, a sickly sweet smile spreading across his face as the commotion grows louder.

“Bet that’s your boss.”

The door flies open and a Raider walks in, chest heaving from excitement. “It’s him. It’s The Nightshade!”

Before I can think, my cage door is ripped open and the Raider grips my ankle, dragging me across the cage floor. I try to kick out, but he pins me, Draven coming over to calmly tie my hands behind my back. I knew it wouldn’t work, trying to escape, but I had to give it a shot. Draven hauls me up, gripping the binds at my wrists as he leans in to my ear.

“Let’s go say hi.”

He grips the binds tight, the rope digging further into my skin as he pulls me along, pushing his way through a crowd of people all staring at something on the ground. We break through the crowd and I have to choke back a cry. On the ground is Benny, one Raider on either side of him hauling him up, his arms outstretched on either side. His lip is busted and he spits a glob of blood out on the ground, looking up at Draven. 

“Nightshade. You’re alive.”

Benny pulls a little at each Raider but they hold strong. “I am.”

Draven chuckles, deep in his chest. “And here we thought you were dead. After all, you stopped deliverin’ what was agreed upon.”

“You think I’d go back on a deal?”

Draven watches him for a moment. “I’m not sure. Why don’t you tell your partner here where the load is, then.” Draven yanks me from behind him, pulling me around front and holding me to his body. My eyes find Benny’s and, even though we are not safe by any means, I take comfort from his gaze, a brief flicker of concern before rage sets in, that darkness enveloping his face.

“You let her go and we can talk.”

Draven does that chuckle again. “Now why would I let my insurance go? She’s my guarantee that you’ll do as I say.”

Benny’s jaw clenches. He hates this. I can’t say I’m too fond of it either.

“I’ll bring you what’s owed.”

“That you will,” Draven smiles down at him. “Maybe we’ll start with her. She has such smoothe skin.” He brushes the backside of a crooked finger down my cheek and I jerk my head away from him as his finger continues to trace a path down my neck.

It’s as if I’m watching things happen in slow motion. Benny jerks his arms once, no doubt the enhancements he’s received taking over as both Raiders go flying. He stands, pulling guns from each of the Raiders and aiming at the ones currently charging him. He always hits a mark, but there’s so many of them. They all rush him, the sound of clashing metal and gunfire deafening in the small circle. But then battle cries and screams sound from the opposite side and the Raiders scatter slightly as men clad in umpire gear and a familiar brown pointed hat come charging in. The Minutemen and Diamond City have arrived, the Raiders momentarily surprised by their abrupt appearance. 

This is so much faster than the films. But while they started strong, the Raiders are more willing to take a life and they start to overpower the Minutemen and Diamond City and it sounds like they’re losing. And Fast. Draven pulls me tighter to him and I feel a knife being pressed to my side, his heavy breathing in my ear warm, fanning down my neck. And then he bursts from the crowd, blood spattered across his face and clothes, chest heaving.

Benny! 

He takes a step forward, but then the ground shakes, a deafening roar sounding loud over the sounds of fighting as a giant dinosaur looking thing comes stomping into view. It’s tall, at least 20 feet tall, curved horns adorning it’s face, scaly skin, standing on 2 legs, 2 long arms with sharp claw-like fingers at the end. And it hits me - this must be a Deathclaw.

“Fuck!” Draven yells from behind me, yanking me along with him as everyone starts running, some people trying to shoot the thing and take it down. We lose Benny in our escape, and honestly, I’m too terrified to try and slow him down. We have to get away from that thing!

As the sounds of the deathclaw and fighting start to fade a little, a shot bounces off the ground next to us. Draven clutches me to him and spins, the knife poking my side again and I gasp at the pain. My hands grip the arm he has pinned across my chest, frantically turning me side to side to find the shooter. But he doesn’t have to look long as Benny appears from nowhere, his dark jacket flapping in the breeze. He aims his pistol at Draven. 

“Just give her to me and I’ll get you what’s owed. Then I’m out.”

Draven squeezes me a little tighter. “She must be more important to you than I thought for you to bring the literal cavalry in.”

Benny shrugs, but I know it’s for show. I can see the tension in his body, in the small movements of his face that I’m so attuned to. “Hard to find good help.”

“Mmm. Well, if she’s not so important, maybe I’ll just keep her. Trade you for her.”

Benny sighs. “Don’t make me kill you, Draven. You’re smarter than all those other Raiders.”

“You’re right. Maybe I’ll just keep her and kill you. Best of both worlds.”

If I hadn’t been staring at his face, I would’ve missed the nearly imperceptible glance Benny gave me, his eyes dropping ever so slightly before snapping back to Draven, who had been rambling on about the horrible things he’d do to me. Slowly, I loosen my grip on Draven’s arm, lowering my own to my sides. I try to tell Benny I love him and trust him with my gaze but I don’t know if he saw it. 

“-and then, only when I’m done with her, I’ll toss her to my-”

BANG!

A loud gunshot rings out, my own voice screaming with it. Draven drops to the floor, instantly dead with a bullet in between his eyes. Benny lowers his gun and runs to me, holding me to him.

“Hey, sshh hey it’s me. You’re ok, Juni. I’ve got you.”

My breathing starts to shorten and I start gasping for breath a little. “Benny?”

He pulls back and looks at me, his eyes wide with fear. They start to rake over my body, but I know where it is. I reach my side and pull my fingers back, blood covering them. 

“No! Fuck!” Benny grabs me as I slump, my limbs already going cold. He must have hit an organ.

“I l-love y-you, Ben..Benny,” I say, gasping for breath.

Benny holds me, but before he can reply, that same screech comes bellowing at us. Benny turns his head, staring at the deathclaw as it charges us. He turns back to me and holds me tighter, trying to shield me from whatever violent attack was about to happen.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’m so sorry, Juni. I love you.”

His tears splash on my face, joining my own. It may be because I’m dying, but I hear what sounds like a vertibird (a sort of helicopter) propeller. And machine gun fire, the screaming from the deathclaw indicating it had been hit. Multiple times. Benny tears his face from mine, looking through the dust at the deathclaw, who was falling on his side, sliding across the dirt, dead.

“Hey! Help! Get a stimpak!” Benny screams from somewhere above me, one of his arms leaving me to wave. 

I look up at the sky and I see it then, a large vertibird descending upon us, someone in power armor hopping out. I must be dying because I swear I see Frankie in the pilot’s chair as the stomping from the power armor gets closer. 

“Here! Stimpak now!” Benny yells and the stomps come closer as my eyes start fluttering. The last thing I see before I pass out is Santi’s face appearing from behind the power armor helmet, leaning over me as Benny comes into view, a pinch in my side before I pass out.

Sunlight streams across my face, the warmth and brightness rousing me from sleep. I blink, my eyes taking a moment to adjust to the light. As my vision acclimates, I look around the room I’m in. It’s plain, medical. Like a military med tent. I feel a weight on my hand and look down to see Benny, asleep on said hand. His face is turned towards me and I take advantage of the quiet to study his face. It’s peaceful in sleep, the white of his scars even seems subdued. And I’m struck again by how handsome he is and just how lucky I am that he loves me back. I reach over and                                    brush back some hair from his face as he stirs beneath my touch. His eyes open and he finds mine already watching him. He sits up, taking my hand in his.

“You’re awake! How do you feel?”

How do I feel? “A little sore but alive. What happened?”

Benny cups my face and leans towards me, kissing my gently before pulling back, giving me a small smile. “I fucking love you.”

“I love you too.”

He sits back and takes my hand again. “Draven stabbed you. There was so much blood. You were…” he swallows hard and I squeeze his hand in reassurance. “You were dying. And then that deathclaw found us. He was charging and I thought..well I thought if you were dying, then I’d go with you. I was going to protect you as best I could. But then Frankie and Santi showed up and mowed that fucker down.”

“So that was Frankie and Santi? For real?”

He nods. “Yeah! I wasn’t sure they even got my message but apparently they did. Santi got to you just in time. He jammed a stimpak in your side, but you had passed out. We weren’t sure the stimpak would work in time.” He takes a deep breath. “But you did. Once it seemed you were stable enough, we loaded you up and they took us back to base. We’re in a Brotherhood med tent right now.”

“And the Raiders? Won’t they retaliate?”

Benny chuckles. “Those knuckleheads? The only one of them that had half a brain cell was Draven and he’s dead. The others? Most of them died during the fight. Maybe a few survived but we won’t see anything from them.” We sit in silence for a moment before his eyes drop from mine. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you.”

I cup his face. “What? No, Benny you did what you could. You couldn’t just come running in. We wouldn’t have made it out alive.”

Benny laughs. “That’s exactly what Will and Tom said. They said you’d kill me yourself for coming in without a plan.”

“And they were right.”

“Tom gathered up all the Diamond City guards and Lauren got in touch with your Minutemen. They came as quick as they could. I’ve never seen Preston that mad. Anyway, you saw what happened.”

My mind flashes back to the battle and I shake my head. “When can we leave?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

I smile at him. “Let’s go home.”

1 year later…

“And then I mowed that yao gui (mutated bear) down!” Santi boasts.

Frankie snorts. “Yeah but it took you a week to scrub your shit from the inside of that power armor!”

We all laugh as Santi throws an empty Pork ‘N Beans can at Frankie’s head. “Pendejo. How many yao guis have you stood in front of?” They bicker like brothers back and forth for another few minutes, eventually walking back towards the kitchen to get more food. 

Benny and I had returned to Sanctuary Hills, bringing Santi and Frankie with us. They helped refortify the perimeter and took turns on watch. They left for a run to Diamond City and came back a month later with Will and Lauren, Tom and Molly opting to stay behind in Diamond City. Tom was too connected with his bar and Molly and the kids loved it there. But what surprised us most was that Santi brought back with him a girl, Jamie, who fit right in the moment she came inside the gates. 

Benny comes to stand next to me, draping his arm around my shoulders. He tips my chin to him with his pointer finger and kisses me, deepening it momentarily before pulling back. He smiles and rubs his nose against mine before resting his head on mine. 

As I feel Benny next to me and look out at all of our friends, my heart fills with happiness and gratitude that we all somehow managed to make it, together, past the end of the world. And that we would be able to survive whatever this wasteland throws our way.

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk  

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

birthday countdown 2024, day 7: bodyswap snippet

it's my birthday next week! and while i'd love to have a new fic to share with you on the day, the fact is i don't have anything ready to post, unless you count the short little notfics i throw out now and then—and if i shine one of those up, it's more of a present for my ao3 subscribers than for y'all.

but i do have a lot of works in progress, so i thought i'd share a couple snippets from my wips here on tumblr!

today, i have for you a bit of mihawk pov from the shuggy bodyswap fic, tentatively titled let's exchange the experience:

Mihawk set the flat of Yoru under Buggy’s chin and lifted, and this pressure he could not use his powers to get away from.  He raised his head up, staring at Mihawk without a trace of fear in his eyes.  He was defiant, and furious, and… amused? Mihawk knew those eyes. Those weren’t Buggy the Clown’s eyes.

(about 1k below the cut)

Bad enough to be associated with Buggy the Clown on paper.  Worse still for the posters, newspapers, and gossip to suggest he was subordinate to that clown.  And to be surrounded by his garish aesthetic at every turn—well, that was beyond words.  It was too awful to be described.  But somehow, being forced to participate in that ridiculous treasure hunt… that was the worst thing yet.

Fortunately, his co-conspirator in this little operation seemed to be fully in agreement with Mihawk.  It was with no small amount of pleasure that he watched Crocodile shove the clown face-first into the carpet, the heel of his shoe grinding down on Buggy’s skull and forcing his nose down and out of sight.

Mihawk briefly fantasized about leaving them like this, about smothering the thorn in his side until it was no longer his problem.  Alas, it wasn’t to be.  As trying as Buggy was—and he was very, very trying—he did have his uses.  When Crocodile lifted his leg to get a better angle for the next round of attacks, Mihawk interceded.

“Remember,” he said, the blade of Yoru all that separated Crocodile’s ire from Buggy’s body, “he still has a purpose to serve.”

Crocodile chewed on his cigar furiously for a moment. “You sure about that?” he asked.  They could still hear the ecstatic cheering echoing from across the island; Buggy’s loyal followers, inspired by his ridiculous declaration of intent to acquire the One Piece.  Almost certainly the biggest waste of time and money Buggy could have thought of for Cross Guild—and with the numbers on his side, there was no way they were getting out of it.  “If I haven’t reached my limit by now, I don’t know where it is.”

“We’ll know when he’s outlived his usefulness,” Mihawk said, staring Crocodile in the eye, “when both of us are too furious to hold back.”

“’Ppreciate… your restraint…” Buggy mumbled around a mouthful of bloody carpet, struggling to get to his knees.

Mihawk had Yoru’s edge against his neck in an instant.  “Don’t sass me, clown,” he said, walking a slow circle around him, until he was at Buggy’s back and by Crocodile’s side.  “I’m not advocating for your life here—just against your death.”

“The nuances are beyond his comprehension, I suspect,” Crocodile muttered under his breath, giving one last kick to the clown that knocked him flat on his stomach again.  “But you’re right,” he said, acknowledging Mihawk’s point.  “It’s too early to give in to such petty impulses.  And besides… if I’m to have any hope of my plans coming to fruition, this childish little venture may provide a decent smokescreen.”

Buggy made another muffled comment, but he seemed to have given up on trying to stand.  His shoulders shook as he sniffled—ugh, was he going to start crying again?  The emotionality repulsed Mihawk, but he wasn’t about to withdraw.  Not until he was certain the clown had conceded—and what had become clear today was that, so long as he was making smart comments, he hadn’t fully given up.  Buggy’s shoulders went stiff, then spasmed, and Mihawk realized he’d given the clown too much credit.  It was only a sneeze.

On the far side of the room, the former senior officers of Buggy’s Delivery, now occupying reduced positions in Cross Guild, went silent.  They exchanged indecipherable looks, then turned as one to stare at Buggy.

Buggy pushed himself up on his elbows, saying, “Oh, ow, that smarts.  Did things really need to come to this?  Surely…” He turned his head and froze, that bulbous nose not half an inch from Yoru’s blade.  His eyes flicked up to meet Mihawk’s, and there was something wrong about them.  “Surely, Hawkeyes, we could have come to some kind of an understanding without things getting… violent.”

“You’re the one undermining the understanding we already had in place, clown,” Crocodile griped, stepping forward and squatting down to talk to Buggy on his level.  Raising his golden hook to press against Buggy’s cheek, he slid it back into his hair and got the hook thoroughly tangled there.  He yanked, to pull Buggy’s head back, and said, “How quickly you forget—” before his words fell away.

Because Buggy’s head had not been pulled back; his hair was still tangled around Crocodile’s hook, but it was a free-floating piece, chopped free by Buggy’s Devil Fruit powers.  And his eyes…

Mihawk set the flat of Yoru under Buggy’s chin and lifted, and this pressure he could not use his powers to get away from.  He raised his head up, staring at Mihawk without a trace of fear in his eyes.  He was defiant, and furious, and… amused?

Mihawk knew those eyes.

Those weren’t Buggy the Clown’s eyes.

“I was wrong,” he said to Crocodile, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him away from the impossible thing before them.  “You should have killed him.”

“Oh?”  Crocodile glanced between Mihawk and the blue-haired man on the floor.  “Why the change of heart, Hawkeyes?”

“That isn’t Buggy the Clown,” he said.

They watched as the man carefully got to his knees and turned to face them.  He sat before Mihawk and Crocodile in a casual, sprawling posture that still managed to radiate unbelievable power.  His jaw shifted, and without breaking eye contact he spat out a broken tooth.  “Gee,” the man with Red-Haired Shanks’ fearless eyes asked, voice almost cheery, “what gave me away?”

[ripeteeth]

Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Thanks, @danpuff-ao3! You’re always a treat to see on the dash and I hope you’ve been having a lovely break <3.

I’m always a bit awkward with these, both from an itching sort of discomfort with staring my own artwork in the face, and I think from a lifetime habit of denying compliments out of a feeling of guilt or fear. So! I’ve had a glass of wine (and an edible) and I’m going to try to kinder to myself. I might be in the mood to talk right now. (Honestly, that’s a good sign. One of the big elements of my recent writer’s block has been an inability to express myself in any written way, even tumblr posts and comments. Maybe this is why I hit twitter so hard.)

My five favorite fics. Not my five best fics. Not my five most popular fics. My favorites. Hmm.

5. blood, bones, and butter | MDZS/The Untamed] SongXueXiao | E, 12,443

“A relationship, deconstructed. Served three ways.”

Ah, Yi City, that deliciously painful Shakespearean tragedy echoing Wangxian’s romance. The specific notes of obsession, revenge, love, and grief that run through these three make me completely unhinged. I love the quiet service and stoic devotion of Song Lan, the otherworldliness and power of Xiao Xingchen, the unchecked brilliance and cruelty that fill up Xue Yang. The Yi City fandom is easily one of the most incredible fandoms I’ve ever been a part of, full of uniquely talented and deranged writers and artists who love to really explore the dark edges and nitty-gritty of these character and let them be their fucked-up selves. The appeal of SongXueXiao isn’t to make it better for them, it’s to see how much you can make it worse.

It’s two pretty classic tropes: a first time after meeting at a bar, and also a story told from alternating POVs. I really wanted to focus on trying to carve out distinctive interiorities, like their motivations, their assumptions, their fears, their memories, and allow the reader to draw their own conclusions without spelling these all out outright. I’d recently rewatched Rashomon, and I love how the understanding of an event can be so differently shaped by each person’s POV and I wanted to show their first night together in that way, moving the lens over the night a few times, before it gets clear. It was a really fun process to focus on and I think it’s one of my best pieces of recent writing.

4. in search of the wind | Good Omens | Crowley/Aziraphale | E, 27,112

After the World Doesn't End, Aziraphale is not returned to his body. Crowley tries to find a way to get to Heaven's fast-shut gates. Aziraphale tries to find his way back from the sky (and back in time).

I remember writing this almost immediately after the show aired, in that heady summer of 2019, when I feel head over sweaty heels for that charming demon and his delicious epicure of an angel. This is essentially how I saw canon going on, this is the headcanon of my soul. Maybe that’s why I haven’t seen season 2 yet? It was a pleasure to write, almost like knitting together different scenes, different pieces of history, like an extended version of the s1s3 cold open. It’s Aziraphale without a body, unmoored in time, turning up at different points along his and Crowley’s history, and realizing that his friend is in love with him. That his friend is heartrendingly in love with him. I love stories that play with structure, striking different chords each time.

I couldn’t write this kind of story again. This belongs to a very specific time.

3. White Light, White Heat | Harry Potter | Snape/Harry | E, 32,107

“In 1347, Benedictine monk and scholar Severus Snape goes to fetch a young man joining the abbey. In 1347, rumors come of a strange and unrelenting plague from the east.”

An AU set in a fourteenth-century Benedictine monastery in Britain during the period of the Black Death where the two men develop a bond through a special sort of crucible. Snape, as always, falls in love with all the grace of a cat being given a bath. As dark as the material is, this was a pleasure to write. I had so much fun describing the setting, peppering fun little facts like a Pop Up Video of Medieval History. I wrote this in a fever-fueled three weeks, absolutely obsessed with getting it down exactly as it was in my head. I loved writing the monster theme and using it as almost a leitmotif for Snape. There’s probably a literary term for that. Is there? Anyway.

2. the body as anagram | The Terror | Crozier/Fitzjames, Crozier/Ross] | E, 3090

“In the dark, it doesn't matter which James is in his bed. As long as Ross doesn't speak, the illusion holds true.”

I took the title from a passage on J.G. Ballard’s Crash by Baudrillard in Simulacra and Simulation: “Technology is never grasped except in the (automobile) accident, that is to say in the violence done to technology itself and in the violence done to the body. It is the same: any shock, any blow, any impact, all the metallurgy of the accident can be read in the semiurgy of the body — neither an anatomy nor a physiology, but a semiurgy of contusions, scars, mutilations, wounds that are so many new sexual organs opened on the body. In this way, gathering the body as labor in the order of production is opposed to the dispersion of the body as anagram in the order of mutilation.”

There’s something a bit haunting about the parallels of the two men who held the intimacy of Francis Crozier’s friendship. The name. The confidence. The bravery. The charming manner and handsome face. I love the idea of a Francis who sails out pining for one man and returns home loving another, switching between true love and placeholder. And I’m notoriously a slut for both proxyfucking and Gremlin!Francis, who just can’t stop pressing on the wound of his grief. It’s not the drink but it may as well be, for all this is good for either he or Ross, but Francis is a fool in love with a dead man and he does what he does to get by.

Something about this came together, from concept to finish, in a way I’m quite happy with. It was fun to play with concepts and free associate from them, focusing less on plot, but more on the vast empty grief in Francis’ chest. Everyone here knows this is a bad idea. No one is having a good time.

1. Revachol Calling | Disco Elysium | Karry/Kim | E, 35,321 [WIP]

“Somewhere in Jamrock, a church burns. A study in Kim Kitsuragi.”

Sometimes you just feel the next part of the story in your bones. When I first played Disco Elysium in 2021 it hit me in an incredibly familiar, emotional way. There’s something somber and hopeful about it. The writing is sardonic, dark and humorous. It’s nearly cynical but it’s cynical with a sad old smile, because cynicism is born through disappointment, and through not quite being ready to give up. I think we can all find ourselves in it, in one way or another and, like many, I’m hopelessly in love with Kim Kitsuragi, a wild creature who’s built himself within thousands of rules. I can’t play the game without craving his side of the story, his interiority, his history, so I grab at the little crystals of information, such as his secret love of Speedfreaks FM and his past with Eyes, and I try to imagine it might go. This is my sequel to the game and, more than anything, this is my love song to Revachol, a character of a city, and one that echoes vastly in all those of post-Communist country and family.

For some reason, this fic is extremely visual for me and usually in a Wong Kar-Wai sort of fashion. Think the saturated aquamarines of a neon diner sign. Think a studio apartment with cheap wallpaper and the yellow-orange flicker of sodium lights. It comes alive at night, when Kim is left alone with his thoughts, running out of rules to keep him safely in. I love that Disco Elysium has such a vast world to explore. It’s an endless playbox.

And this is also, in a way, a bit of an elegy to a belief I’d once held in a motherland, and do not anymore.

I’m almost done with Chapter 8, so hopefully it will be up soon <3

Tagging! @jaggededges123 @soft-october-night @wildcard47 @rcmclachlan @brawlite @zaxal @pearwaldorf @kiingbooooo @darcylindbergh @et-in-arkadia @itsevidentvery @iodhadh @iamwestiec @mia-ugly @laurashapiro-noreally @pinehutch and anyone else who wishes to!

[nexysworld]

Guardian Angel 🖤 Part 4.2 🖤

Read on AO3 - Requests are Open - Masterlist

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | 4.1| 4.3 A/N: Thanks for the support and patience for this chapter. Tumblr wouldn't actually let me post it in one or even 2 parts no matter how I tried to split it, so it's split into three parts (though you can read it as one chapter on AO3.)

Chapter Summary: In a an attempt to get reader to open up to him, he starts giving in to a change of scenery and other requests for her. Leon even allows her a special friend before he leaves on a work mission, leaving the reader home alone for the first time.

🖤Pairing: Yandere!Leon/Fem!Reader 

🖤Tags (not all apply to all chapters): NSFW, Masturbation, Dubcon, Sex, Gaslighting, canon typical horror and gore descriptions, probably eventual kidnapping or kidnapping like behavior, use of pet names like bunny. Leon induces some PTSD like flashbacks on purpose, general things of that nature. Unwanted creampie, etc. Probably treat as dead dove. Inappropriate use of animal collar. Threats of animal abuse (though none occurs and it's not descriptive.)

Your limbs felt so heavy that you collapsed, Leon caught you against him, letting you lay there on his chest while he rubbed your upper back. You felt so sleepy and sated, not wanting to move from where you were. You closed your eyes, just taking in the smell of his spiced cologne while your heart rate came back down, breathing stabilizing as well.

You hadn’t even realized you fell asleep until the sun shining through the window disturbed your slumber. Opening one eye, you smiled seeing Lucipurr curled up next to you on the bed, purring in his sleep. Leon must’ve cleaned you up, noticing you were clothed and there was a smell of food wafting through the cracked door. 

Sitting up you stretched and rubbed your eyes, relieved that you had a good night’s sleep for the first time in forever. You didn’t feel bogged down and hazy, no bad dreams, to your relief not the slightest sign of the red eyed man to be found either. Even your reflection was looking more like you – though you did notice the new collar adorning your neck. It was more comfortable and dainty compared to the black one. A pretty lilac collar with the word ‘Bunny’ embroidered in silver. You ran your hand along it, there was still a shock mechanism on the side, but even that was smaller. You almost wanted to like it. Almost . At minimum it was far better than the original, and you could appreciate that. 

Once you were done staring at yourself, you scooped Lucip up into your arms and walked downstairs, plopping the cat before his food bowl that Leon had so kindly filled already. “Morning Bunny.” He said from the kitchen as he set the table with breakfast. He waited for you to take your usual seat before speaking again. “Do you like your new collar? I think this one suits you so much better.” “Yes Daddy, it’s really pretty and more comfortable. Thank you.” You poked at your food a little, and stared at the plastic cup next to the plate. Now that you were more in your right mind, the things that should have caused feelings of embarrassment and shame were catching up. “Something wrong? You don’t like the food?” “No, I was just wondering if maybe I could go back to using regular utensils and cups? I’ve been really well behaved and I promise –” “No. No you haven’t earned that back yet baby. I like knowing you’re safe, and until I feel like I can trust you, you’re using the safety dishware. You need to learn to stop getting so far ahead of yourself.” He took a bite of his own food. You had no response for him, so instead you chose to slowly pick at the food in front of you, eating in silence until Leon spoke again. “Actually, I do need to talk with you about something. Unfortunately I got called in to work, while I was technically granted a few months to spend time with you, this is an emergency and I can’t decline.” “Oh.” You felt your appetite diminish a little now, worried about what that would actually mean for you while he was gone. Was he going to lock you up again? Would he take you with? Would he starve you again?“Hey Bunny, don’t look so sad. Trust me, I hate having to rush out the door on such short notice.  I’ll be back as soon as I can, ok? That does mean I’ll have to leave you cold meals in the fridge for a few days, I’m leaving the locks on the stove. You’re still not permitted to leave the house either. I will be locking up on my way out too just in case you might get any funny ideas, are we understood?” “Yes Sir.” “Good girl.” He leaned over to kiss your forehead.  

You weren’t sure how long Leon had been up before you, but he’d had the time to make things like several sandwiches, and other things he considered ‘safe’ meals that he left in the fridge for you. He wasn’t lying about the need to rush though, scrambling around to lock things up, make sure the dishes he used to cook were put away, double checking the baby-proofing he’d done all around. From the attic he’d carried down a huge duffel bag he brought out to his Jeep. Once everything got one more onceover, he gave you a goodbye kiss. It was sweet and almost painfully domestic, a part of you actually appreciated it, knowing you’d be alone with the cat now. “I’m aiming to be back within 3 days, ok? Make sure you sleep and eat.” “Yes sir.” “And go over the rules for me one more time baby?” “Only safety items in the kitchen, no using the stove, no going in the basement or the attic which are both locked anyway, and no leaving the house which will also be locked. Make sure I get enough to eat and sleep.” “Good girl.”  With one final kiss, he was out the door. You made a mental note to see if you could get more information out of Leon on what his job actually was when he returned. ~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~ Leon did not want to leave you alone - you weren’t ready yet. Not by a long shot. You still pushed, asked for things you weren’t ready to be given, hadn’t learned all the rules yet. He’d only just gotten you to start acting like his little Bunny again. No, if he could have, he would have done anything to not leave you by yourself. But sadly even the great Leon Kennedy cannot ignore the US government when he’s commanded to move. All he could do was try to be back as soon as possible. He hoped the cat would keep you company and the rest of your time would be spent behaving, not that he left you much room to fail. The entire house was optimized fully for your safety, and he’d double checked the entire downstairs before he left to make sure of that.

Still, it did little to ease his anxiety. He was already missing you and worrying about you the moment the gate closed behind him. Don’t worry Bunny, I’ll be back soon, promise.

As soon as he got the chance he was checking the hidden security cameras, seeing what you were up to. His face lit up into a loving smile as he watched you eat your lunch with cartoons playing on the TV, you looked so pretty when you giggled like that - but he wasn’t a fan of the size of the bites you were taking, you could easily choke like that ! He sighed, knowing there was no way for him to communicate that to you now, but it made his anxiety worse. He still didn’t know how you survived to this age without him until now.    

When he checked in a little later, you were curled up watching a movie while you pet the cat. Okay great, harmless activity. 

The third time he checked during the evening, his heart sank. He realized he’d forgotten to lock the door that led to the attic when he rushed out of the house, as evidenced by the cat’s tail lightly brushing against it. The door opened with a loud creek, waking you from your slumber with a startle. Despite the gunshots ringing out from around his hiding spot, the only anxiety he was feeling was towards what you were doing. If you opened that door and saw the attic – Leon didn’t even want to think about the work he’d have to do to un-etch that sketch, and there you were right in front of it, contemplating. Luckily for him, you were truly being good. He watched as you closed the door before heading back to bed with Lucip. Leon let out a breath of relief and made a mental note to reward you for that when he got back. 

The second day he was sadly far too busy to really keep tabs on what you were doing. He kept reminding himself of your moment of obedience when the door had been opened right in front of you - it was the only thought getting him through the day.

[epersonae]

Do you think you could fall in love again?

On the one hand, this is a wildly personal question, anon, and from the reaction of my knitting group, it would be totally appropriate for me to just abandon this in the depths of my unanswered asks.

On the other hand, if it is possible to know one thing about me as a person, just from my blog, it’s that I was deeply madly in love, and that that person died. And also: you have in fact activated my trap card.

Because I thought about this, almost as soon as they died, and not in a way where I was ready to fall in love immediately, but I think I said to @faintvox maybe the next day: can you be polyamorous with a ghost?

Because when I got divorced from my first spouse, I thought I wouldn’t find love for a long time. I expected to be single for years, because I had so much trauma from that, because I had loved him and it had broken me, because I thought it would be too hard to start over after more than 20 years with someone else.

And when I told Ryn that, after we started dating, they laughed at me. “There is no way you were going to be single for five years,” they said, which how long I said I’d expected. (For the record: I left my ex in August 2018; Ryn and I started dating in October 2019.)

Because Ryn and I were in a polyamorous relationship when we started out, and we were just trying to figure out how we wanted to do that again, more deliberately, and instead cancer-wedding-death. Our wedding vows deliberately included that space in our lives, in a way where it also was about our friendships, and was also something that would not be totally obvious to a couple of my older relatives.

Because I realized, after they died, that we together had written me a way through it — the fic we wrote together, one of the central characters is a widower, and the guy who created him always said “Magnus never loves again,” and we said “Fuck that,” and we said (altho this is I think @nekosd43's formulation originally), “Magnus is made for love,” and we shipped him in stories set before his marriage and we shipped him in stories set after. And Magnus’s grief and love for Julia is woven through the love that we gave him in the stories we wrote with him and Taako and him and Lucretia, and the love and the grief are both important. (JFC I WROTE A PIECE ABOUT LUCRETIA ASKING HIM ABOUT A TATTOO HE GOT FOR JULIA.)

Because among many other things, for the benefit of all the broken hearts is in part about what it means to have love that isn’t The Love, what it means to find love in the aftermath of tragedy, to find love in places you didn’t expect.

Because people in my family live a really fucking long time, and the idea of living another 30, 40, 50 years without romantic love, without being in love, is kind of horrifying to me. (No offense to my aromantic pals, but could not be me.) Especially given that I am already of a mindset that it is possible to have romantic love for more than one person at a time — to say that I couldn’t have it again at all is just not realistic for who I am.

No one is ever going to have the exact place that Ryn did and does. No one will ever be them, no other relationship will be the one that we had from when they first messaged me in 2017 until I lay next to their corpse in a hospital bed in 2021. Even in death they are literally my safe space.

And yet.

So the scene in OFMD 1x10, where Stede asks Mary what love feels like. I have always associated that with Ryn, and with my own little montage, because that is what our love felt like. (There are so many things about s1 Ed and Stede that are ridiculously us.) If we’d been married a year later, I bet some of that would have been in our wedding ceremony.

And yet.

I haven’t posted about it on Tumblr, but there is a somebody, and I am quite in love with them, and one time last summer I was watching Our Flag Means Death, as you do. And I got to that scene, and my mind was doing the montage overlay thing with moments of Ryn…and also moments with this other person. And I knew that I loved them, that I was in love with them, but to have that connection happen? I burst into tears.

Because I had known intellectually, but I felt it in a different way, deeply and truly, the simultaneousness of that love, the way it overlaps, and neither makes the other less, and there was love, and there is love, and whatever happens next there will be love.

[kindlingkeen]

Heyo Keen, I have come to pester you once again. Your post about the Jason amnesia thing got me thinking about young justice (I started watching it recently, it’s very good) and the whole red hooded ninja plot (rip)

I have no clue if you’ve seen the clips (if you haven’t then: spoilers below)

-

Particularly the bit where he’s fighting Nightwing and there’s this whole moment where he says “Gray…son” and he’s told “your memories are returning”.

Anywho. personally I really loved that whole scene/idea even though it was real small. (Also the red hooded ninja design is banger imo) Just the idea of brothers so close yet not even realizing it & the whole amnesia/catatonic thing where seeing Nightwing helps him remember. Also iirc in this he takes care of Damien? (I’m not that far in the show yet so not 100% on that) which is really sweet. Super looking forward to where it goes if anyone picks up the show again.

Do you prefer the whole amnesia/ninja plot or the pit/Red Hood one? I love both and don’t really have a favourite, but I know some people lean pretty strong towards one or the other.

Hey friend! Please pester away! If it takes me a while to answer your asks, it’s only because I’m giving them serious consideration.

I haven’t seen Young Justice, but I’m vaguely familiar with the red hooded ninja story line via art I’ve come across on tumblr and a few fanfics. There’s one in particular that comes to mind where Ra’s contracts Slade to take over the LoA, and Slade interacts with Jay (I can’t remember the title or author, so if anyone knows what I’m talking about, drop a link so I can tag it properly). The first time I read one of these (without noticing the YJ tag listed in the fandoms), I was like ‘what tf is going on here—ohh, Jay with sword, yeah, okay, let’s do this.’

I am deeply and unhealthily attached to the pit/Red Hood story arc for Jason. It’s the storyline I know best in both the comics, dc alt media, and fandom worlds, and it’s the clearest characterization I have of Jay in my head. Part of my process for writing is to set certain ground truths for myself/the story based on comics canon, and then I build outward from there.

That said, the red hooded ninja concept pushes so many of my buttons, namely Jason being under Talia’s wing, Jason and Damian meeting in the League, Jason as a ninja assassin, Jason with a sword (errghhh it’s all sooo good). I also like the younger Dami/older Jay dynamic. Although, technically one of the alt endings to the A Death in the Family movie was Talia giving Jason baby Damian, so I suppose you could wrap that into a Red Hood storyline.

I’m working my way through the 90s Batman: The Animated Series (it’s my fav ‘it’s 10 pm and I’m too tired to do anything productive so I’m just gonna watch comfort TV’ pick right now). Maybe once I get through that, I’ll move on to YJ. 🙂

Thanks so much for the ask! 💙

[fuckitwebhaal]

Shit wait why you leaving what happend

😭 Nothing horrible, oops, I realize how bad that last post sounds. Ultimately it’s burnout, both with the game and tumblr and within my own personal life. I don’t really play BG3 anymore, I have a lot of criticisms about it, and I find myself feeling isolated from the fandom due to either disagreeing with popular fanon or just not relating to content going around.

This blog has started to feel like a chore to maintain; I stress when my queue gets low because it feels like I have to perform to keep my little followers and mutuals happy, and that’s not healthy. I’ve been through a lot in the past few months in my personal life (moving in with parents, lost my apartment deposit, constantly sick, wrecked my car, my cat died, etc.) and I just don’t get the same joy out of it. Instead I’m stressed over “falling behind” or “not producing enough content” which isn’t normal or healthy for me. I’m holding myself to standards about playthroughs and oc lore and meta content that I’m just… never going to have the energy or drive to do.

This isn’t because some followers or mutuals have made me feel this way, these are my own personal sentiments borne out of extreme depression, withdrawal, and anxiety over how my TUMBLR BLOG WAS DOING when I have quite literally been putting out fires in my personal life and that’s where my attention should have been (and should still be, I’m not out of the woods yet).

Another thing is that the burnout with bg3 has turned my attention over to the pathfinder games that Owlcat studios has made, and I absolutely love them and I find them more engaging and well-made. It’s a much smaller fandom, I feel like I have a lot more breathing room, so I may switch to either moving my pathfinder blog here or dropping this one entirely as a memorial to my time in BG3.

Regardless nothing is set in stone, I haven’t made any real decisions yet, but I think the end is on the horizon for me in the bg3 sphere. I love everyone I’ve met and I intend to stay in contact with people (I’m not dying or going away, my discord is still open lol) I’m just really, really tired.

[aeneaans]

that fated day

synopsis: after a tiring day, you and diluc decide to watch a meteor shower together

word count: 1,323

c/w: none !!!

note: hi !! this is my first time posting on tumblr >_< please enjoy !! i dont post super often but yeah :3

There wasn’t a single cloud in sight that night, the stars littered the vast ocean in its reflection. “Hey, do you believe in wishing upon a star?” You asked as the two of you returned to Mondstadt after taking down a few Fatui camps together in the evening. Diluc lowers his head slightly and ponders his response. His steps across the ground are soft, yet they still hold a sense of authority to them. It’s quiet. Crickets chirp in the warm summer breeze, the sky turning dark at last. Mondstadt has mostly fallen asleep by now–the city that’s filled to the brim at the brink of dawn has not a flicker of light in sight. The windmills continue to spin, as does the wind blow, and the summer dew trickles from the petals of the Cecilias.

“I’ve never thought about things like that. I suppose I don’t.” Diluc responds after a few seconds of thought. “Why the sudden question?”

Right before you set out on your adventure with Diluc, Mona happened to be at the main gate. As it turns out, she briefly informs you that there’s a meteor shower tonight. It was Mona you’re talking about, so of course you’d trust her words.

“I heard there’s a meteor shower tonight,” You explain. “It reminded me of when my parents gave me mora to toss in the fountain in exchange for a wish, I guess.” And to that statement, Diluc’s lips faintly tugged upwards. You reminisce back to when you were just a small child, when Mondstadt seemed so much more peaceful compared to now. The idea seemed rather childish now.

“Do you want to check it out?” He says, head facing the sky to look up to the stars. When he says that, your eyes light up accompanied by a bright smile.

“Well…it’s true that I haven’t seen one in a while. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out.” You say, trying not to sound overly-excited. You clutch your bag tightly, fiddling with the strap.

“We’re not too far from Cape Oath.” Diluc mentions so quickly that if you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have missed it. Nobody is out this late anyway, so it’d be a nice break from all the battling the two of you have been facing.

“Then let’s go to Cape Oath!” Suddenly, you realize the implications of the two of you going to Cape Oath—‘The Lovers’ Oath’—together.

After a few seconds, it hit you. “Ah,” You mumble under your breath. “Maybe we should just stay here to watch?” You turn back to him, desperately trying to avoid any misunderstandings and awkwardness. He looks at you and tilts his head innocently, seemingly confused as to why you’d change your mind so fast. He stares at you as you try to explain yourself without making it obvious you were a flustered mess. It doesn’t work very well, as your hands begin to fiddle with the strap of your bag once again. Your eyes dart around as words just seem to pour from your mouth, neverending.

After some more sputtering from your side, Diluc lets out a soft laugh. He clearly put two and two together in the time you tried, and failed, to explain yourself, understanding why you’d want to stay put instead.

“It’s okay,” He smiles at you and begins to walk towards Cape Oath, gesturing for you to follow. You quickly catch up to him, the grass crunching quietly beneath your feet. After several minutes of walking in silence, Diluc points out a light in the sky.

He seemed to frown, “It started already.” Diluc purses his lips, looking back at you. Though, it’s hard to tell when he’s actually frowning since his resting face always seems to be so…somber.

“Isn’t it good that it started so early?” You ask, curiously. You looked up at the sky, shards of space rock shooting down into Teyvat.

He stops in his tracks and turns to you. “You were quite excited to see this meteor shower.” He glances back to the sky, admiring it for a few seconds before looking toward Cape Oath. He seems to be lost in thought, brows somewhat furrowed and squinting toward your destination.

“We’re still seeing it, aren’t we?” You were never a believer in ‘special locations’ that much. Superstitions didn’t make sense to you. After all, is fate really real? What matters is that you live the life the way you want, right?

He stopped in his tracks, finally turning back to you. “You wanted to see it at Cape Oath, no?”

But he was right. Cape Oath was a scenic area, and it would definitely be a better view than in the middle of nowhere. Just imagine: The meteor shower filling the sky with dozens of warm tones as the color is reflected into the large body of water below the cliff as you’re surrounded by greenery.

“Well, yes. But it’s not much of a difference. Besides, you’re here with me and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Diluc’s eyes widen for a second and look away from you.

“We can still make it if we run.” He mutters to himself. It was just the beginning of the show, it definitely hasn’t gotten to the best part yet. As the shower continues, you grab his arm out of sheer impulse.

“Then…let’s go.” You weren’t exactly sure why you did what you did, but you did it. You dashed across the grassy plains, feeling the grass crunch beneath your feet. You felt Diluc being pulled along with you before he finally managed to balance himself again, running with you. You felt the wind brushing past your face with each step you took, covering a large distance in a short time. You felt your breath getting irregular and your throat felt dry, but you didn’t stop.

Your eyes weren’t focused on the meteor shower anymore, just on your destination—Cape Oath. You looked back at Diluc occasionally, the two of you rushing toward the cliff with no words exchanged. Perhaps it was to save some breath, or perhaps it was the fact that there were no words left that needed to be said.

Luckily, the two of you weren’t that far from the cliff. It was only a few minutes of nonstop, high-speed running. But before the two of you know it, you've arrived at the cape. Panting from all the running, you immediately fall onto your knees, your legs were provided a somewhat soft yet rough landing by the vast field. A few dandelions surrounded your being, a few crushed under your leg. The broken stems left a trail of water dripping down your lower leg down to your ankle.

Still catching your breath, you finally speak. “You were right, Cape Oath really is a good spot for this stuff.” You lean back, your palms flat on the ground. Diluc gives a quick nod before sitting down again. His breathing is quiet, but he’s definitely panting. You find it a little silly as to how he would try to hide the simple fact that he’s tired. After all, anyone would be.

“Did you make a wish?” You break the silence again, catching Diluc off guard. Your gaze is stuck to the sky, the bursts of colors before your very eyes.

“Yeah,” As you were about to ask what it was, you remember your parents saying that the wish won’t come true if you say it out loud.

“Did you?” He asks, finally turning to look at you.

“I did, but I’m not telling you.” You turn to him as well, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Of course,” He closes his eyes for a split second before they flutter open once again just to take in the view. Together, just near the edge of the cape admiring the spectacle that nature staged for Mondstadt, there’s a comfortable silence that can't be broken between your pair.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Scars (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall Part 16 to the series Growing Strong. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found on the pinned post on my profile. Tumblr is being mean and is not letting me post it here. :( ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of death of previous characters, thoughts about characters having previously unalived someone(s), subtle but still there references to miscarriage

Summary: But did you even dare to go back that far? If you did, at what point would you realize that you and Harwin had been puppets controlled by Larys’s strings for years?

A/N: As always, thank you all who have continued to read and support this story🖤🖤🖤 the kind words are really encouraging me to see this through to the end.

I'm sorry for the delay. This chapter's a bit of a doozy length wise, so I hope that helps compensate for the temporary absence. I think I've said it before, but just in case and for reference- I did age up the boys a bit. Luke/Selwin are around 14-15ish, and Jace/Derrik are 16, almost 17. This chapter's a little bit heavy still in regards to the topics, since there was a lot of sh*t that went down last chapter, so please be aware. But it ends with two POVs centered on characters I haven't gotten to write a whole lot for yet, so there's a little change of pace there.

I hope you enjoy, and that you have a good rest of the week/weekend!🖤🖤🖤

To Lord Larys, Master of Whisperers The Traitor of House Strong:

Strength from honor.

Though a viper wears his skin, my brother is dead. You are unworthy of the name Strong, for weakling kinslayers are the most dishonorable of us all.

May the gods have mercy on you, for I will not.

Lyonel Strong shall be avenged.

 King Viserys Targaryen, the first of his name, was dead.

As you stepped out onto the deck of one of Lord Darklyn’s several ships, that was the primary thought that reverberated within your mind.

Almost immediately, you spotted a few of Lord Darklyn’s men- the ones carrying out essential tasks to keep the ship sailing- but, like the rest of your traveling party, most of them were below deck, presumably asleep. Still, you would not be deterred. You wandered about aimlessly, your footfalls creating taps upon the planks beneath your feet, while the hull of a hip as a whole groaned as it cut through the waves.

Above you, the red, white, gold, and black banner of House Darklyn flew proudly. The rippling of the billowing sail joined the rocking waves and the croaking of the hull of the ship in filling the air of the otherwise silent night.

By the time you, Harwin, and the rest of your men had reached Duskendale, the young Lord Gunthor Darklyn had already set sail for Dragonstone. But his wife, the Lady Meredyth Darklyn, was as gracious a host as her husband. She apologized for his sudden departure, but insisted that time had been of the essence. To compensate for this, Lady Meredyth had extended the same protection her husband had offered your children and the rest of your party in Harwin’s temporary absence. Once you had reconvened with the rest of your party in Duskendale, she had offered you the use of one of her husband’s ships.

You had set sail for Dragonstone at once, despite it having been in the middle of the night.

Even now, you were still indebted to Lord Darklyn, as the ship sailed through the Narrow Sea under the protection of his house’s sigil. Any ships you happened across would be none the wiser to the guests currently aboard Lord Darklyn’s vessel. Most of your own banners had been destroyed back in Duskendale- save for two, one for House Tyrell, and one for House Strong. Once the ship neared Dragonstone, the two banners would be flown, but in the meantime, they’d been tucked away below deck. Being intercepted and caught with those in your possession could spell a great deal of trouble for all involved. The banners could be replaced; the lives of you and your traveling party could not.

It appeared that neither House Darklyn’s hospitality or generosity had been overstated by Princess Rhaenyra.

…

Queen Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra was now queen. The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

And King Viserys was dead. No man lived forever, but the implications of his passing had weighed heavily on your mind for many years. Now that the said implications lay right beneath your feet, you found yourself able to think of little else.

But of course, that was not the only thing that plagued your mind. There were the lifeless eyes of Ser Vaemond Velaryon. There was also the man whose face you did not know, but whose blood was on your hands. Several more troubling, if not downright terrifying, things.

…

You were pulled from your near-suffocating thoughts upon seeing the back of a familiar stature across the deck. The figure, donning his cloak, was facing away from you, looking out towards the sea.

Harwin.

You had awoken from a dreamless sleep to find the space on the bed beside you empty, and had suspected to find your husband here. However, that was not the sole reason you had chosen to rise from bed yourself. With all the thoughts plaguing your mind, it was little wonder that any sort of decent sleep had yet to find you that night. You had hoped, perhaps naively so, that a bit of fresh air would help calm you.

You were tempted to go to him, but without much deliberation at all, decided against it. It was best to leave Harwin to his own thoughts, at least for the time being. The horrid realization you had all made only a few short days ago impacted him more than anyone else.

You turned away from Harwin and took up post by the closest railing. With your hands firmly pressing into the wood beneath your fingers, you lifted your chin and looked up to the sky.

It was dark, but littered with a copious amount of stars. The moon, nearly full, provided one of the only sources of light around for several leagues. A few sparsely lit torches provided some guidance for those on the ship, but beyond that, it was nearly impossible to tell what lay ahead.

But you knew what was waiting for you. You may not have been able to see it yet, even if you were standing in the rays of the sun instead of the moon. You knew the predetermined destination that the ship would reach early on the morrow.

Dragonstone.

“Mother?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, despite the softness of your eldest son’s voice, for you had not even heard him approach. Your skirts rippled from the light wind and from the movement as Derrik came to stand beside you.

“Derrik,” you greeted him as you regained your composure. “What keeps you awake? The hour grows late.”

Derrik shrugged nonchalantly. He looked out and over the dark sea, just as you had a moment before, and refused to meet your eyes. “The same things as you, I suppose.”

He placed his hands on the railing to steady himself. As he did so, you stood up straight, mentally preparing yourself for what was sure to be an interesting, and perhaps challenging, conversation with your eldest son.

“I cannot stop thinking of what happened,” Derrik clarified. “About what could have happened… and what has yet to pass.”

You looked away, joining him in focusing upon the crashing waves as your guilt began to eat away at you once again.

After your near encounter with the Stranger, which was prevented only by the timely arrival of Harwin and several of his own men, you had made for Duskendale with great haste. When you arrived, your sons, who were well aware of the King’s abrupt passing and your obvious delay to rejoin them, were among those who gathered inside the gates of the Dun Fort to greet you.

The only comfort you could take from that moment was that Brynna had opted to stay within the keep with Luciya, and that your youngest had been spared from seeing you in such an alarming state.

“I should have ridden out with Father,” Derrick asserted, his voice suddenly severe. His knuckles whitened as his grip on the railing in front of him tightened with his conviction. “I would have been of far more use than I was in Duskendale, merely sitting around and waiting for you to return.”

You shook your head vehemently. “I would not have wished what we encountered on the road upon anyone, let alone you, Derrik.”

What a sight you must have been, riding through Duskendale and up to the gates of the Dun Fort with Harwin riding beside you, and the rest of your men flanking you on all sides. You could not have prevented Derrik and Selwin, who had joined those gathered to receive you, from seeing the ghastly amount of blood on your dress. But you so desperately wished you could have.

Derrik and Selwin were intelligent; in light of everything else, and the fact that you insisted that you were well and uninjured, it was easy enough for them to infer that something foul had befallen you.

“You’ve said so little about what actually happened… I can tell you do not wish to speak of it,” Derrik inferred, ever astute. “But, when you do wish to speak of it, I hope you know that I am here for you, Mother.”

You smiled sadly, sincerely touched by the gesture. “A generous offer, Derrik. But I would not burden you with it anymore than I already have.”

“You are my mother, not a burden.”

“I have your father I can speak to about it, when I am ready to do so.”

Derrik turned to look at you imploringly. “And who does he have?”

You turned, matching his stern and searching gaze. “He has us.”

Shortly after entering the Dun Fort, Derrik and Selwin had bombarded you with questions. You and Harwin had no choice but to take them straight to the chambers that Lord Darklyn had prepared for the both of you. Your sons deserved to know, no matter how difficult it was for you and Harwin to share, and for them to hear. You had sat them down, and proceeded to tell them the harrowing discovery that had been brought to light. When words began to fail Harwin, you had found them for him.

But you had spared your sons some of the details, for you could not bring yourself to admit that you had killed a man by your own hand. Even now, the dagger with which you had carried out the act was strapped to your side, hidden beneath your cloak. Despite the repulsiveness you intermittently felt about what you had done, you did not dare to go anywhere without the dagger in reach.

Derrik and Selwin may not have been told the entirety of what happened to you and your escort on the road. But they knew the core, fundamental truth.

Their uncle, Larys Strong, had betrayed you all.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what is running through Father’s mind.” Derrik looked away from you. Even from his side profile, you could tell that the look that washed over his face was a dark one. “The thought of Selwin doing something like that…” He shook his head. “‘Tis impossible to fathom.”

The thought of doing such a thing to Derrik’s namesake, your elder brother Derron, was impossible for you to fathom as well. You spared a glance over your shoulder, seeing that Harwin remained where you had seen him a few moments before, with his back still facing the two of you.

Your heart wrenched for him.

Harwin’s own brother, Larys, had attempted to kill your entire family in the Harrenhal fire. He had succeeded in killing their father, Lord Lyonel Strong, that very night. And, for reasons still not fully known to either of you, Larys had attempted to claim your life for a second time. The situation would be immensely difficult for anyone to fully comprehend, let alone someone like Harwin, who had always regarded his family, particularly his younger brother, as very dear to him.

There weren’t words fitting enough to describe what such a betrayal must have felt like.

“My uncle will pay,” Derrik vowed, his tone low and grave. “Justice will be served. Not only for Grandsire’s life, but for the attempts on all of our own. And he will answer for any other atrocities he may have committed, but which have yet to come to light.

How deep did your Good Brother’s foul plots run? …  If Larys had been responsible for the fire at Harrenhal, then what of your brother, Lord Derron, and his mysterious sudden death? … And just where had your cousin Lord Garrett Redwyne, who had never been particularly ambitious, gotten the notion that the lordship of House Tyrell was available for the claiming after Derron’s passing? … And what of the misunderstanding that led to Lord Loreon Lannister accosting you the night before your wedding feast?

But did you even dare to go back that far? If you did, at what point would you realize that you and Harwin had been puppets controlled by Larys’s strings for years?

You nearly gagged.

“Do not allow your thirst for vengeance to consume you,” you pleaded with Derrik instead. “Doing so will blind you to most everything else. This is a dangerous time, and we need to be more present and aware of our surroundings than ever before.”

“Will there be war?”

You regarded him carefully.

Derrik had favored Harwin in looks more than he had ever favored you. But as to who he was, the person within- when you looked at Derrik, it often felt as though you were staring at your own reflection. Despite all the evidence suggesting the very conclusion that he had surmised, a gleam of small, yet indisputably hopeful optimism still clouded his hazel eyes. It was the same optimism a younger version of yourself had once held proudly- before the realities of the harsh world you lived in had forced you to abandon most of it.

Lying to Derrik would do him no favors. But neither would throwing him to the wolves.

You proposed, albeit half-heartedly, “Bloodshed is likely to be the last resort, not the initial course of action. The Queen may yet offer the Usurper generous terms.”

“Which he will undoubtedly reject, no matter how fair they may be,” Derrik denounced bitterly. “And what then? Will blood be spillled?”

Your small smile faded. “Mayhaps.”

Derrik nodded stiffly, and clenched his jaw.

“Nothing will happen to you,” you promised him quickly, wanting to dissuade any of his concerns. “Your father and I would not allow you anywhere near a battlefield.” Let alone one where dragons survey the skies above.

“I’m all but ten and seven, Mother, and a fair swordsman at that. Should war come, I will do my duty to defend our Houses, and our Queen.” Before you could protest, Derrik added, “But it is not myself whom I worry about… It’s you.”

You blinked, not having expected such a declaration from him.

Seeing your confusion, Derrik elaborated, “I worry for you. For Father. Selwin. Luciya. And everyone else dear to me. If the realm goes to war, you will all be in danger… And I am but one person. How can I ensure that all of you will be safe?”

A bittersweet smile played on your lips. You reached out and grabbed Derrik’s hand that was closest to you. “My Heart, it is not your job to protect us. It is your father and I’s responsibility to look after you. Though I am touched you feel so strongly about this, you are too young to shoulder such a heavy burden, so I bid you not.”

“I am all but ten and seven, Mother,” Derrik said for the second time, his patience never wavering.

Ten and seven. You had been so close to his age when you had first come to King’s Landing, all those years ago. That one event had set you all on the path that led you to be right where you were, at that precise moment. An ominously calm moment, on the precipice of something. War? Most possibly. Something far greater, by the way of the reign of the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms? If the gods had any pity left for you, maybe.

“If anything should happen to you, what would I do?” Derrik wondered despondently. “Who would I be without my family?”

You pushed the dark thoughts down and away from the forefront of your mind. “You would be you, Derrik. You would be the young man your father and I raised. An intelligent, courteous, and loyal young man.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you pressed on.

“All this talk is premature,” you insisted earnestly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “None of us can truly know what lies ahead, so there is little use in dreading it. Brace yourself for it, if you must. But do not burden yourself with worries that may never come to pass.”

Derrik mused over your words for a few moments, before eventually giving you a conceding nod.

You felt encouraged that your words had begun to resonate with him, even if they did not serve a dual purpose in alleviating your own worries. “I think you will feel more settled on the morrow, once we reach Dragonstone. We will be under Princess -the Queen’s- protection then. We will reaffirm our loyalty to her cause, and see how best we can serve it.”

“And then?”

… And what then?

You did not know.

Would second-born sons always be meant to bring doom upon their families?

Harwin was reluctant to put any merit into such an unprovable and unfair generalization, but he had truly begun to wonder.

King Viserys’s first born son, though also the second of all his children, was a usurper. The actions of his staunchest supporters and his mindless willingness to go along with them had put the entire realm right on the brink of war. By his failure to reject the ambitions of those around him, he had robbed his elder sister of her birthright. A birthright their shared father desired for no one else but her. He was a fool, and such foolishness had enabled him to become a witless participant in a scheme beyond his comprehension and traitor to the realm.

Harwin’s father, Lyonel Strong, was a second son. Had his uncle, Lyonel’s older brother, not been taken by the Stranger at such a young age, and without heirs of his own, his father most likely would have been alive, even to this day. Regardless, Lyonel would not have been encouraged to produce heirs of his own, and would have never sired a son who would so heartlessly orchestrate his downfall.

Larys. Perhaps the most damning evidence, if it could even be considered as such, for Harwin’s broad generalization. The second born son of a former Hand of the King. The Master of Whisperers for the same king his father had served. Perhaps Larys still served in that position for the Usurper.

But there was only one title that Harwin would ever acknowledge Larys Strong as again.

Kinslayer.

There weren’t enough feelings in the world to adequately describe how Harwin felt about the man who had once been his brother. The man whom Harwin had spent years of his youth looking out for, defending, and the man whom Harwin had always gone to great lengths to reassure that any inadequacy he might have felt was only imagined.

But if there was a primary feeling Harwin felt, it was pure, unbridled anger. As Harwin wrestled with his own thoughts, it was of little surprise that sleep had yet to find him. He’d been on the deck of Lord Darklyn’s ship for a while now, perhaps an hour or two. But Harwin would stay put and breathe in the salty air for as long as he needed to in order to feel something other than the dangerously stormy anger brewing within.

Said anger was now reserved solely for the scum that was Larys the Kinslayer. Not for you, or your children, or for anyone else traveling with you. If Harwin needed to keep some distance in order to refrain from outlashing upon an unintended recipient, then it was a necessary evil. Leaving you alone in bed while he carved some time for himself did not sit well with Harwin, but he would live with it readily if it meant you’d be spared witnessing just how much damage Larys’s blow had done to him.

You did not need a husband who was distracted with a desire to deal out personal justice, or a husband completely devastated by the betrayal of someone he had once held so dear. You had taken another’s life with your own hands, even though it was completely in your own self defense. Harwin was relieved that you had been able to do what needed to be done to protect yourself, but that did not make a difference in how you felt about it.

You need Harwin to be strong, now more than ever.

… So why was he here, up on the deck of Lord Darklyn’s ship, and away from you?

Further internal reflection could wait until later. The closer the ship grew to Dragonstone, the further you and the rest of your family were out of the Usurper’s grasp, and the more at ease Harwin began to feel. It was all a bit ironic, considering what was looming on the horizon.

Harwin turned away from the sea, and made to head back below deck. However, the sight of you and Derrik across the way made him pause. How long had the two of you been up here, whilst he was completely consumed in his own thoughts?

He walked across the deck with light steps, not wishing to disturb whatever conversation the two of you found yourselves in at this late hour.

“... I think you will feel more settled on the morrow, once we reach Dragonstone,” you were saying to Derrik. “We will be under Princess -the Queen’s- protection then. We will reaffirm our loyalty to her cause, and see how best we can serve it.”

“And then?” Derrick questioned.

“We will cross that bridge once we’ve reached it,” Harwin answered.

Despite the softness of his tone, Harwin couldn’t help but notice how you and Derrik flinched at the sound of his voice. It faintly wondered what subject the two of you had been discussing prior to him announcing his presence.

“Good evening, Father,” Derrik greeted him, recovering from his slight startle with ease. “We were just taking in a breath of fresh air.”

“As was I,” Harwin lied. His eyes briefly scanned the area, before finally landing back on Derrik. “Where is Selwin?”

It was a fair question; when it came to your sons, where there was one, the other was usually not far behind.

But in response, Derrik shook his head. “He is doing a much better job at trying to sleep than what I have the patience for.”

A soft smile threatened to break through Harwin’s otherwise brooding composure at the thought.

Upon Lord Darklyn receiving word of the death of the King, both Derrik and Selwin had insisted on riding out with Harwin to find you and the escort on the road. Derrik had been difficult enough to persuade to remain behind in Duskendale; convincing Selwin to do the same had been nearly impossible. Your youngest son had a fire within him that reminded Harwin so greatly of the one he harbored within himself. It was a fire fueled by loyalty and the desire to fiercely protect one’s own. Selwin, like Harwin, wore his heart on his sleeve. He was no lamb in sheep’s clothing, like Larys had revealed himself to be. Selwin was not capable of the treachery that his uncle had devised.

No, Harwin happily amended mentally. Not all second sons are destined to bring ruin upon their kin.

“Let us hope his efforts are not futile,” Harwin suggested. “We could all do with a good night’s rest.”

Whilst we still can. Those were the unspoken words that lingered uncomfortably for a few fleeting moments.

“I shall try and follow his example then,” Derrik agreed, breaking the mild tension. “Good night, Mother, Father.”

“Sleep well,” you told him, smiling lightly when Derrik kissed you fondly on the cheek.

Harwin also mustered up a small smile to give Derrik, and clapped him briefly on the shoulder as the younger man passed him. As Derrik walked away, Harwin turned his full attention to you.

It must have been a skill, Harwin supposed. Or, rather, simply a natural talent. Whatever it was, you looked as beautiful as ever, and effortlessly so, despite the horrors you both witnessed and experienced over the past few weeks. As you stood before him, the moonlight bathed you in a subtle but attractive light.

But when your eyes flickered up to meet his own, Harwin noticed immediately that they betrayed your otherwise serene and undisturbed appearance. Such sadness, stress, and mayhaps grief, lingered in your eyes, the likes of which Harwin had been fortunate enough to seldom see. In fact, the last time you had looked at him in such a way, you had just lost your brother, and were torn between fighting your cousin, Lord Garrett Redwyne, for possession of House Tyrell’s titles and holdings, or simply giving up. You had been seeking answers.

Perhaps you were seeking them again.

“You could not sleep either?” Harwin deduced.

You shook your head, turning to face the railing once again. Harwin stepped forward, coming to a stop beside you. Your arms brushed against one another’s due to the close proximity, but neither of you felt particularly inclined to move or step away.

Harwin looked over at you, but your gaze had returned to the dark waves before the pair of you. The hypnotic swirling movements spanned as far as the eye could see. There was no land, nor anything other to focus on. Only waves. Only darkness.

“Talk to me,” Harwin begged gently.

You clenched your jaw, still refusing to meet his eyes. “‘Tis nothing to speak of.”

“If that is truly how you feel about it, then I shall be gravely concerned for you.”

At Harwin’s poor attempt at a joke, you tore your eyes away from the sea and looked up at him. You gave him a disapproving look, but Harwin could’ve sworn that the heavy look in your eyes was lightened- if only a little bit.

“Please,” Harwin coaxed softly, hoping the break in your reserve would encourage you to continue to lower your heightened guard. “If speaking about it will help-”

“Lord Husband, you have just discovered that your brother conspired to have us killed, succeeded in killing your father, and attempted to take my own life once more. And yet you wish to discuss how I am feeling?”

“Yes,” Harwin asserted firmly, ignoring the twinge of hurt he felt at the use of such formality. “I can not bear the thought of you suffering in silence, My Love.”

You looked away from him once again and shook your head to yourself.

It was hardly appropriate conversation to have over dinner. But there had been some nights, when the memories became too much, too burdensome to contain with the perils of his own mind, when Harwin confided to you about it. Harwin had been Lord Commander of the City Watch, and had served on it for years prior to his promotion. He might not have commanded with the iron fist that his predecessors had, but he never shied away from doing what needed to be done. He’d been trained with weapons at a young age, and had grown up the eldest son and heir of a lord who was expected to carry out justice in the name of the King within the border of his own lands. He’d been knighted, and had participated in many dangerous tournaments over the years.

Harwin had witnessed a great deal of death in his life. And some of those deaths had been by his own hand.

Killing in the name of justice or honor did not make it any easier for Harwin to rationalize or accept what he had needed to do. And, he imagined, killing in the name of self-defense would not make it any more tolerable either.

“There is more blood on my hands than your own,” Harwin reminded you somberly, the volume of his voice softening significantly under the pure weight of his words. “I understand how impossible it may seem to wash it all away, despite the urge you may feel to rid yourself of the memory. If you need more time to mull it over, then take it. But I beg of you, please do not keep it all to yourself. You cannot simply ignore it- I know this, because I have tried. If you never face it, it will drown you.”

You clenched your jaw tighter.

For a few moments, all was quiet. The longer you did not speak, the more Harwin’s concern for you grew. If there was one thing that could overpower his desire to avenge his father, it would be his pure care and love for you.

Finally, you sighed. “Every time I close my eyes, I see his.” Abruptly, you turned, and looked up at Harwin with a pleading, almost pained look. “And when I do not see his, I see Ser Vaemond’s instead.”

Rumors about the unfavorable conclusion of the Driftmark succession petition had reached Duskendale only a day or two after Ser Vaemond’s head was detached from his shoulders, courtesy of Prince Daemon. Harwin knew you would not have been likely to be far from Princess Rhaenyra’s side during the petition, which led him to the inevitable conclusion that you were likely to have witnessed the grotesque act. Another horrendous and, frankly, unnecessary, chain of events that you had bore witness to over the past few weeks, and largely in part to the impulsivity of Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Harwin had many things he wished to say to Prince Daemon. Unfortunately, not many of them were likely to come to fruition, given the man’s recent escalation to Prince Consort.

Harwin could not, and would not, lie to you. “They will likely haunt you for some time.”

You did not look pleased by this, but neither did you look particularly surprised.

“The memories may be foul, but they serve a purpose,” Harwin contended delicately. “They prove that you have compassion. Guilt, even. It stands to reason that, had there been any other way, you might have taken it. But make no mistake, Y/N- there was no other way. Not this time.”

“Will it ever stop?” you wondered, your voice wavering with emotion. “Will I ever stop reliving what I’ve seen? What I’ve done?”

Harwin wished for little else in that moment but to find it within himself to lie to you. What he would do to give you whatever little comfort he could in this particularly trying time. But if it was a false hope, it would not be worth offering at all.

“You will always remember, but the shock will fade with time. You come to terms with it; you accept that it cannot be undone.”

Once more, you did not look pleased nor surprised. Rather, you looked resigned. “... Thank you, Harwin. I do not believe this is the last we will speak of the matter. But your words have helped, if only for tonight.”

Of course, Harwin would have wished for you to feel more reassured than for merely the span of the night, but that was a tall ask. He would not count it as a loss, and would be content with helping to soothe what plagued you in the time being, no matter how little it was.

It felt that the conversation had reached a natural conclusion. But just as Harwin was about to suggest that you both return back to your temporary quarters to retire, you continued.

“And what of you?”

Harwin froze. “What of me?”

“You insult me to think I am so foolish, Dearest. How fair is it for you to offer me words of comfort in my time of need, but to not have the same courtesy extended to you?”

Harwin was given a small start when you suddenly placed your hand on top of his own.

“Please,” you steadfastly bid him. “The revelation that your brother is not who you believed him to be is deeply troubling, but you need not conceal your thoughts about it for my sake. I can see how deep his betrayal has wounded you. Our sons can see it. And I am certain even Luciya can sense something is amiss.”

You were stubborn. But Harwin loved you for it. “... I would not even know where to begin.”

“You can begin by telling me what you wrote to him.”

May the gods have mercy on you, for I will not.

That was what Harwin had written to Larys, amongst other things.

Upon the realization that both scrolls found on two of the men who had waylaid your traveling party en route to Duskendale bore Larys’s seal, Harwin could not have torn them open fast enough.

Larys must have made himself out to be a clever man by having given his men the letters, each addressed to Harwin, and each able to have been sent on by raven once the task was done. Given their varying contents, one would have been selected depending on the course of action his tongue-less men had deemed appropriate to take. While one had conveyed Larys’s deepest sympathies that he had discovered you’d been killed in a skirmish during a robbery gone astray, the other regretfully informed Harwin that you had been taken hostage by the brigands instead.

But Larys was not clever enough. Keeping the firefly pin a secret between Harwin, you, and his steward and castellan, Lord Dannis, had proven to be most wise. Had Larys discovered the connection you and Harwin had made between it and the fire at Harrenhal, he might not have been so bold whilst devising his most recent attempt on your life.

Harwin made the most of the opportunity to write a short, but plain, letter back to his brother. He had not even bothered to sign or seal it, but Larys would not be able to mistake who had sent it.

You had read both of Larys’s scrolls, but Harwin had not shown you what he had penned back to the Kinslayer. The raven carrying the message had departed Duskendale for King’s Landing just as you departed Duskendale for Dragonstone. Larys most likely would have received it by already. Harwin could not deny that the thought of Larys pacing restlessly in the Red Keep as the realization that his wicked schemes had been found out brought Harwin some joy.

“He knows that I am aware of what he has done,” Harwin paraphrased his letter, ultimately deciding that revealing the entirety of his words was moot. Then, another thought crossed his mind, and he grimaced. “But perhaps I was too careless with my words. Keeping Larys in the dark, at least for a few days, might have offered us an advantage against him.”

You gripped his hand more firmly. “No. Let him toil away for now, knowing that justice will be had.”

Harwin had thought, more than once, about sending you and your children onwards to Dragonstone whilst he returned to King’s Landing alone. The thought of barging into the Red Keep and dragging Larys out to face that justice was extremely appealing. But Harwin knew, beyond a doubt, that if he stormed through the gates of the Red Keep, he would not be simply allowed to leave. He was the Lord of Harrenhal now, a lord suspected by many, for more reasons than one, to be unwaveringly loyal to Queen Rhaenyra. The Usurper would leap at the chance to lock him away in the dungeons, at least until he thought of a way he could be use to serve his false cause.

A day would come when vengeance could be served, and Larys would be paid his due. But, much to Harwin’s chagrin, that day would have to wait.

“You should write to your sisters,” you suggested to him. “They deserve to know the truth about Larys.”

Harwin glanced at you anxiously, and his shoulders tensed. With all his mental turmoil, he had yet to consider how his sisters may react to the news. “Do you truly think they will believe me? It will be my word against his. Larys has had us fooled for years, My Love- who is to say his venomous words will not charm our sisters and turn them against me?”

“And what could Larys say to sway them?” you countered. “That you’ve gone mad? You’ve never given either of your sisters a reason to fear you, My Love. I do not believe that would start now. And, should they be insistent on proof, we still have the other letter in our possession.”

Harwin took care to choose which one of his brother’s letters he would return back to him, and kept the most damning one for himself. He’d tucked it safely away amongst his few traveling possessions, where it would remain. The letter, written in Larys’s own hand and which detailed your death, which had yet to actually transpire, was likely to raise some questions at the very least.

“Your sisters deserve to be informed of such a thing in person,” you acquiesced thoughtfully. “But that is a luxury that we cannot afford now. Write to them- tell them the truth, and warn them of what we suspect will soon come, so that their houses can start their own preparations.”

Successfully convincing Lilyan and Eyla that their brother orchestrated the murder of Lord Lyonel would appease Harwin some, but it would never be enough. Even if Harwin could find it somewhere deep within himself to one day forgive Larys of such an atrocity, that was not the whole of Larys’s sins.

The failure to properly execute a plan could not erase the intent of it. The fire at Harrenhal had been orchestrated to eliminate you all. Larys had meant to kill you. He had meant to rid himself of your sons.

And for that, Larys could rot in the deepest pit of the Seven Hells for all eternity.

“That will not be enough to satisfy,” Harwin confided to you in a dark, low tone.

“Once this business with the Usurper has been dealt with, the Queen shall hold them all accountable for their crimes. The Master of Whisperers may receive a trial, but the truth cannot be soiled. Larys will meet his deserved end.”

Harwin paused to allow the deeper meaning of your words sink in.

Larys would die.

But what all would transpire before that came to pass?

Suddenly, a particularly strong gust of wind came barreling through. As you readjusted your grip on the railing, Harwin placed a hand at the small of your back to keep you steady. Once the wind had passed, you shivered.

Without a thought, Harwin unfastened and shrugged off his traveling cloak. Ignoring your feeble protests, he placed it over your shoulders. His hands remained there for a few moments past what would have been necessary to secure the fabric.

“Thank you,” you told him, speaking so softly Harwin had to strain to hear you over the noise of the waves. “But I have little need for two cloaks, and without one of your own, you will catch a chill.”

“If that is the cost for ensuring you will not, then it is a price I do not mind paying.”

For the second time, Harwin felt the conversation had reached its natural conclusion. But then, you took a slow step to the side, creeping your way towards him. He lifted an arm and could not help but chuckle at your thinly veiled attempt to be subtle about it. Once you tucked yourself into his side, Harwin dropped his arm, securing you to him.

You had both been through great ordeals. It was, almost fearfully so, too easy to forget that it had been weeks since you had had a true moment alone. A moment unencumbered by the most recent conversations of traveling, betrayal, usurpation, or war. A moment where the two of you could just be.

“I do not think I have ever felt more relieved than when I realized it was not too late,” Harwin found himself saying.

Finding you amidst a struggle with a mysterious attacker was frightening enough, but you were alive, and at that moment, after weeks of tormenting himself about the extent of your wellbeing, that was all that had mattered to Harwin. The fear of not finding you, or worse, finding you after something grave had befallen you and your escort on the road, still haunted him. 

You burrowed your head into his chest to make yourself more comfortable. “As was I. What use would I be to our Queen if I had fallen into the clutches of the Greens?”

Harwin could not help but be appalled by your words. Did you truly not understand? Though loyalty was admirable, the severity of the situation could not be ignored.

Harwin tightened his hold on you. “You could have died.”

“I know,” you breathed shakily. “It’s just… easier to entertain the alternative.”

Harwin understood that feeling all too well.

You wrapped your arms around his middle. As if it were even possible, you pressed yourself further into his side. “I am truly sorry about your brother, Dearest.”

“Don’t be,” Harwin replied, speaking truthfully. “He may be of my blood, but he is no brother of mine. I still have my family, my true family. And I still have you. That is all that matters.”

For a few minutes, the two of you stood there in a comfortable silence.

“These are dark times we’ve found ourselves in,” you mused joylessly.

Harwin sighed. “Aye.”

“All of this mess, is it worth it? Is all this misery we’ve endured worth whatever awaits us beyond?”

“We are no oathbreakers,” Harwin reminded you, treading lightly. “We chose this path years ago.”

“But what if we chose wrong?”

Harwin was stunned to a loss for words at your suggestion. You had rarely expressed any doubt in supporting Princess Rahenyra, and for as long as Harwin had known you, you had known her.

Eventually, Harwin pondered, “How could we have chosen wrong, if we chose to walk this path together?”

You contemplated his words.

“It would serve neither of us to dwell on the past,” Harwin discouraged, pulling you even closer still. “This path we have chosen might not be easy. But it is what we have chosen.”

There was another choice before you now. Formally pledged oaths and informally reassurances of loyalty aside, the question was a simple one.

Aegon, or Rhaenyra? … The Usurper, or your friend?

“What do you think awaits us at Dragonstone?” you asked him then.

Harwin did not fail to notice your convenient change in rhetoric, but he would not press the matter. “If Lord Darklyn could not delay his own departure to Dragonstone, even for a day or two so that we might have joined him, then the situation must be dire.”

“I should write to my uncle. If war is upon us, he needs to know.”

Harwin understood your sense of urgency. Dragons were one thing, but armies were another. If Oldtown deposed reinforcements to King’s Landing to defend the Usurper’s claim, Highgarden, fixed along the Rose Road, would be in their direct path.

“And you shall,” Harwin assured you. “On the morrow.”

There were no ravens aboard that were available to carry such a message.

Fortunately, you did not disagree. Instead, you gave him a relenting nod. “It seems that a lot of hope has been placed on our issues being resolved ‘on the morrow’.”

“As you told our son- we shall at least feel more at ease.”

You scoffed. “Excellent. Well, now that you’ve put it that way, I look forward to it earnestly.”

Harwin must’ve made a strange face, for as soon as you saw it, your own expression softened. As you turned to face him fully, the sarcasm faded quickly, leaving only empathy in its wake.

You placed your hands on his chest and looked up to him with wide eyes. “Forgive me.”

The corners of Harwin’s mouth twitched as he covered your hands with his own. “There is nothing to forgive, My Love.”

And when you stood on your toes to press a tender kiss to his lips, it was incredibly easy for Harwin to imagine that the two of you were somewhere, anywhere else. Not sailing towards an uncertain fate.

What he would have given to turn back time, if only a month or two. What he would have given to have you and your children back in Highgarden, away from what was becoming an increasingly volatile world. What he would have given to have spared you the horrors you had endured.

What he would give to have the opportunity to knock some sense into himself, to force open his own eyes and take a deeper, more insightful look at his brother.

The path you had chosen to walk together had taken its toll. Most of the wounds had healed, though the scars of them would always remain. But, as Harwin had argued, you had chosen to walk the path together. You would not abandon the path now, not when the end was so near. However strenuous the final stretch of it would be, you would continue to draw your strength from each other.

You pulled away first, but did not stray far. Your next words escaped you in a hushed whisper. “Whatever comes next, promise me that we’ll face it together?”

“Together,” Harwin avowed, knowing no other way.

The sun had just begun to rise over the island of Dragonstone.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had already been awake for some time, but the lightening of the sky gave him a proper excuse to finally slip from his chambers.

He found who he needed to without much searching; it seemed there were many walking about the castle as of late, even at early hours of the morning. Almost all of them would jump at any chance to be of service. Jacaerys gave the order to his mother’s- well, perhaps now his- steward, and did not dawdle long after giving it, lest it be protested.

The Queen was not to be disturbed.

Of course, his mother had no idea of Jacaerys’s command. In fact, once she learned of it, she was likely to be cross with him. But Jacaerys would willingly subject himself to her scolding, for he felt it was for the best.

The day before had been difficult. Terribly so.

In the morning, they had given the funeral rights before a much, much too small pyre for his sister. Visenya, his mother had named her. By midday, Ser Erryk Cargyll had arrived from King’s Landing to present his mother with the crown of the Old King. It was same crown his own grandsire had worn for six and twenty years, and his great-great-grandsire for five and fifty years before that. By the afternoon, most everyone had gathered in the Chamber of the Painted Table, where strategizing waged on for what felt like a few more hours. Lord Otto Hightower’s arrival on the shores of Dragonstone in the evening brought that discussion to a grinding halt. He’d delivered proposed terms of peace to the Queen, and to the rest of her pledged supporters who had not already received them. No one had felt like reconvening after that.

Three days. His mother had promised the Usurper’s Hand that the Greens would have their answer in three days. In three days, it would be known whether the realm was to go to war.

But until the Sea Snake arrived, or until the scouts his mother had sent to the mainland to locate and retrieve their additional key allies returned, it felt as if all further progress at amassing support for the Queen’s cause was at a standstill. And so far, there had yet to be word on either of those fronts.

No need for his mother to rise any earlier than what she might naturally. If Jacaerys could do her this small kindness, it would be more than worthwhile. His mother was the Queen, and the Seven Kingdoms were hers to protect now. But she had also protected Jacaerys his entire life. Now that he was nearly a man grown, it was high time for him to return the favor.

With the Queen indisposed with sleep, only Prince Daemon might have been able to undermine Jacaerys’s command to leave her undisturbed. It was most fortunate that his step-father was doing… only the gods knew whatever he was doing, coming and going from the castle at all hours, and as he saw fit. Jacaerys could only hope that he wasn’t off threatening even more of the limited few who had already pledged their support. That would be the easiest way to invoke the wrath of the Queen.

There was already tension between them, between his mother and step-father. But Jacaerys could not discern the real cause. Was it the loss of their daughter, the death of their father and brother respectively, or another matter altogether?

The only comfort Jacerys took was, although his step-father was undoubtedly plotting for someone, he could not possibly be plotting for the Greens. The Greens might welcome many of the Queen’s defectors to their side in the days to come, but so deep was the history between the Rogue Prince and the Usurper’s Hand, Prince Daemon would never be one of them.

Finally alone with his thoughts, Jacaerys leaned against the stone barrier of a balcony that looked out and over the sea. With some good winds and a fair amount of luck, vessels bearing the Sea Snake’s banner would sail through the waters by the end of the day.

A small glance at the sky behind him, all the way across to the other side of the castle, proved his suspicions. Nearly a day had passed, and yet the faint white wisps of smoke rose into the pink sky.

What remained of Princess Visenya Targaryen’s funeral pyre still simmered.

Jacaerys turned back away. What he would give to take to the skies with Vermax at that moment. Being on dragonback and looking down at the world, where even something as grand as the castle looked miniscule, had an uncanny way of clearing one’s mind.

But that was not possible. Not today. With his mother taking a well-deserved rest, Jacaerys knew he needed to be on the ground and easily within reach, in case there happened to be need of him. At least he could carve away a few moments of calm peace, before the rest of the castle began to truly stir.

And peace he had, until a small movement beside him gently nudged him from his heavy thoughts. Jacaerys turned towards the oncomer and was surprised at who he saw beside him.

“Luke,” he greeted. He shifted, taking his weight off his forearms, which had been resting on the barrier before him, and rose to his full height. “I did not expect you to be up at this hour.”

“Nor I you,” his younger brother replied, avoiding his gaze.

An awkward tension fell over them.

“Did you sleep well?”

Lucerys’s answer was quick and resolved. “No.”

“Me neither.”

The awkwardness dissipated, and when Lucerys finally turned to meet his eyes, he gave a small smile, which was easy for Jacaerys to return.

“Before too much time has passed, there is something I wished to tell you,” Jacaerys said then, carefully adjusting his tone so as to properly convey his sincerity. “I wanted to apologize for the other day. How I behaved… it was uncalled for.”

Jacaerys was not sure what had gotten a hold of him. He and his brother had been sparring with one another since they were young boys, and none of those bouts had ever resulted as it had two days ago. Never before had Jacaerys knocked his younger brother down to the sand, nor yanked him around, let alone so roughly. Jacaerys supposed that he had yet to recover the involuntary exposure to his uncles in King’s Landing, which had brought out the worst in him. But even if that were so, Lucerys had not been deserving of the treatment he’d received.

“You are a prince,” Lucerys disagreed. A true peacekeeper, he was. It was little wonder mother tended to favor him; Jacaerys would have done the same, if he’d had a son like that.

“As are you.”

“You are the Prince,” Lucerys amended, uncharacteristically stoic. “The Heir to the Iron Throne, future Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jacaerys countered, “And who was I before?”

Lucyers waited for his response.

“Your brother,” Jacaerys answered, clapping a firm hand on his shoulder. “Whether they call us princes or bastards, whether I am to be a king someday or nothing at all, none of that matters to me. None of that matters, so long the histories remember I was your brother in the end.”

He could tell his words touched Lucerys deeply; the rising sun did little to mask the water behind his younger brother’s eyes. But Jacaerys would not speak of that. By the old gods and the new, never again would he belittle Lucerys so.

“My Prince!”

Jacaerys dropped his hand and turned towards the call.

It was Baela.

There he was, at nearly ten and seven, and just the sight of his recently betrothed had the tendency to make him grin like a love-stricken boy.

“Good morrow, Lady Baela!” Jacaerys greeted her heartily. He did a double take as he took in her appearance. Baela was walking towards them, taking off her gloves one by one. Her silvery white curls, riding cloak, and dress fanned out behind her with the winds that blew in from the sea. She looked rather majestic, but Jacaerys would have rather been caught dead before he dared to make such a declaration in the presence of his younger brother.

Seven Hells, Baela herself might have even thumped him upside the head for it.

“Did you go for a ride this morning?” Lucerys asked her politely, also having noted her unusual state of dress for the early hour.

Moondancer was not the biggest of their dragons, but had recently grown large enough to seat her rider. And Baela had taken advantage of that development as much as her young dragon’s stamina had allowed.

Baela nodded. “I thought I might keep an eye out for Grandsire’s fleet.”

“Any sight of it?”

“No,” Baela answered, the disappointment evident in her voice. “However, I did spot a lone ship, with its course leading straight here. I knew I needed to return at once.”

Jacaerys frowned. The Usurper’s Hand had not been gone half a day, and his mother had told him she would need three in order to consider the proposed terms. Surely the Usurper was not so conniving, nor stupid, to send a single vessel to Dragonstone for the sake of merely antagonizing the Queen? If it was an enemy ship, it would never even reach the harbor.

“What is the banner being flown?” Jacaerys implored.

“The sail was of House Darklyn’s,” Baela recounted. “Was Lord Gunthor expecting more men?”

“Not that I can recall.” Perhaps it was a ploy or something of the sort.

Jacaerys turned with the intention to head back inside, rouse his mother, and inform her of the news. But when Baela reached out a hand to stop him, he halted at once.

“There were two others,” she told him. “They were smaller banners, like what soldiers might carry. I did not dare to fly too low or too close, but I could make out the colors.”

“What were they?”

“One was a golden sigil on a field of green.”

Jacaerys looked to his younger brother, who gave him a knowing look. He looked back to Baela. “And the other?”

“It was blue, red-”

“And green?” Lucerys interjected hopefully. “On a field of white?”

Baela looked stunned. “Yes.”

For the first time in days, Jacaerys let out a small laugh. Upon seeing Baela’s confusion from his understandably bizarre response, he explained, “There is no need to worry, for that is no enemy ship.”

It was plain to see that Baela was not entirely reassured. “There are so many house sigils, My Prince. You cannot know them all.”

“I do not,” Jacaerys admitted. “But I know of two houses whose members were recently due to be hosted by Lord Gunthor. The same two we have hoped would soon reach our shores.” 

Jacaerys turned back to his brother next. Lucerys looked about as happy as Jacaerys felt.

“Go to the Queen,” he bid Lucerys, “Tell her what Baela has seen. I will alert the guards and greet our guests myself.”

“Come here, Lucy.”

The young Lord Derrik Strong smiled as he took his younger sister into his arms.

You had all arrived in the harbor at Dragonstone shortly after the sun had risen. Since the arrival had not been previously announced, there were no horses, carriages, or other means by which to make traveling with everyone’s belongings up to the castle more feasible. The majority of the traveling party had elected to remain behind until such assistance could be procured, while the rest of you were to head onwards on foot.

The walk from the harbor to the gates of the castle was not a long one, at just under half a league. But the youngest among you would not be able to make the walk herself, and leaving her behind with the rest of the party was simply out of the question. Neither you, Harwin, Selwin, or Derrik could ask Brynna to carry Luciya all that way, even if the loyal nursemaid might have done so.

Instead, Derrik took turns with his brother carrying and otherwise entertaining their sister for the short trek. Every now and then, you and Harwin would spare a glance behind you at your children, ready to take over and assist with Luciya if needed.

But you and Harwin had enough on your mind at the moment, and an undoubtedly long day ahead of you. If Derrik could keep his sister preoccupied, it would be the least he could do for you.

You had visited Dragonstone once or twice with Princess Rhaenyra- when she had only been the princess- in your youth. Over the years, you had come to tell Derrik and Selwin many tales of it. But no amount of whimsical words could have prepared Derrik for the sheer grandness of the land before him.

Behind the castle, still some ways ahead, looming tall and imposing, the Dragonmont kissed the sky. The blackened smoke rising from its depths created streaks against what would have otherwise been a clear blue.

The castle itself was fodder for awe due the splendorous architecture. Many dragons, carved from the very stone that built up the island, had been installed in its foundations. They rivaled the size of the few dragons Derrik had seen in his lifetime, but were most likely small in comparison to the other dragons of old.

Unfortunately, the impressive scenery had caused more harm than good for others. It was of little wonder how a babe as young as Luciya could not appreciate the finer aspects of the castle’s design. The dragons in particular seemed to pose a viable threat.

Luciya turned and buried her face in Derrik’s shoulder. He could tell she was on the verge of tears by her audible sniffling, and Derrik reacted hastily, wanting to avoid such an outcome. He patted her lightly on the back, saying, “There, there, Lucy. You have no reason to fear the dragons. They will not harm you.”

At his words, Luciya lifted her head cautiously, but her lip still quivered.

“They are good,” Selwin added helpfully, simplifying Derrik’s words so that she might understand. “They will keep us safe.”

Fortunately, it worked, and their sister did not cry. But once she had buried her head in Derrik’s shoulder once more, she did not lift it again.

Only when they had reached the castle’s guarded entrance gate and had begun to make their way across the bridge did Derrik and Selwin give in to Brynna’s insistence. He managed to hand his sister off to her nursemaid without a fuss from Luciya.

As the small group crossed the bridge, Derrik took a moment to fully appreciate the full vision of the castle. But the closer they drew, the more his eyes trailed downwards. Many guards stood tall at the foot of the castle. Most donned the Targaryen red and black, but there appeared to be several White Cloaks among them. In the middle of them all stood a lone figure, positioned right at the bottom of the castle steps.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

It had been years, but Derrik would have been able to recognize his childhood companion anywhere.

Prince Jacaerys looked most pleased as they approached. It was a sentiment that Derrik wished to return, but then he caught sight of you.

As you walked, you looked over to the right of the castle steps. A small trail, lined with large slabs of jagged rock, led to a small stone altar. The surface of the stone was lined layer upon layer with what appeared to be hardened wax. On top of the altar, what looked like remnants of a fire simmered with a faint and dull orange glow. Little remained of whatever had been aflame, but even now, small tufts of white smoke rose into the sky.

Whatever the altar before you had been used for, Derrik could tell that you were deeply disturbed by it. Your jaw clenched, your eyes hardened. When you turned back to face the prince, your neck tilted stiffly. Derrik continued to watch carefully as Harwin looked at you concernedly with unspoken questions lingering in his eyes.

The group came to a halt before Prince Jacaerys, and for a brief moment, all was still. Then, in unison, the ladies of the group curtsied, while the men among you bowed.

“Our deepest condolences for the loss of your grandsire, My Prince,” you said to him as you rose back to your normal height. Your voice sounded a bit strained.  “King Viserys was a good, kind man. The realm shall mourn his loss for many years.”

Prince Jacaerys nodded to you cordially. “You are too kind, Lady Tyrell… Lord Harwin.” The look on Prince Jacaerys’s face as he appraised Derrik’s father was indiscernible, but it was soon replaced with a polite smile. “Know that you and your companions are most welcome on Dragonstone. I have already sent horses and carriages to retrieve those who remained at the harbor. In the meantime, the rest of you will be shown to your quarters.”

Prince Jacaerys gestured to a few of the knights around him, who immediately stepped forward and began to address others among the group.

“Lady Tyrell, Lord Strong,” Prince Jacacarys called then, “If you will follow me. The Queen will wish to speak with you at once.”

The Dragonstone throne within the Great Hall of the Stone Drum was second in splendor only to the Iron Throne. Large slabs of black stone, masoned from the same rock that had been carved from the Dragonmont, fixed it to be a rather intimidating structure.

But neither you nor Harwin had more than a few brief moments to admire it before a door on the opposite end of the room opened.

Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen stepped out of the shadows and into the small streams of light that filtered into the room. As she strode over to the two of you, she subtly commanded every bit of attention and respect with which her new title bestowed upon her. She was dressed in a narrow black gown, which flowed minimally behind her with each step.

Most oddly, her hands did not come to rest upon her stomach. That gesture had always been a habit of hers whenever she was with child. It was a habit she still indulged in, as you had noted during your short time in King’s Landing over a week prior. Instead, her hands swayed by her side, with her thumbs hidden beneath tightly clenched fists. Naturally, your focus drifted towards inwards, towards her middle.

When you realized how truly thin she looked, you almost choked on the horrid feeling that suddenly overcame you.

The altar. The pyre.

As Queen Rhaenyra came to a halt before you and Harwin, your mouth felt dry, and your gaze fell down to the ground beneath your feet. Harwin kneeled beside you. You tucked your chin and forced your legs to bend as you followed his example.

“My Queen.”

You rose slowly, but were encouraged to move more swiftly when the Queen gently pulled you up to your feet and embraced you. For a moment, the two of you stood still. You knew you ought to have said something, anything. Perhaps you should have offered your condolences on the loss of her father… or perhaps you should have extended your deepest sympathies for the second loss you now suspected she had suffered. But you could not. You did not dare to move or speak, not unless she did.

When Rhaenyra finally pulled away, she kept a hold on your arms. Her eyes shone with a mixture of sadness and relief. “It is so good to see you again, my friend.” She looked over to your husband, and gave him a soft smile. “And you, Lord Harwin.”

Harwin bowed his head respectfully.

“I am glad to see the two of you safe… And what of your children?”

“They are well, Your Grace,” Harwin promised her.

The Queen beamed at his words, though her eyes still shone with something more somber. Seemingly invigorated, she turned back to you. “Come now, my friends. There is much to discuss.”

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know any and all of your thoughts. I hope you all have a wonder end of the week!🖤

[heliopauseentertainments]

It's A Good Color

Based on this Tumblr post from @0ptiimus

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Rodimus/Megatron

Characters: Megatron, Drift, & Rodimus

Warnings: Crack

Summary: In which Drift is witness to a disaster.

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

“Drift.”

Drift suppressed the urge to jump at Megatron’s voice behind him on the bridge.

While not normally in charge of navigation, Drift had been asked to fill in as the shift’s usual navigator had come down with a fungal infection. Some of the crew played fast and loose with First Aid’s decontamination protocols after excursions to organic planets, with inevitable consequences. Luckily, it was easy to treat, but it required an extended period of time in a tank of heated sterilization solution… leading to the empty seat Drift now needed to fill.

“Yes, sir—“ He stopped himself as he turned to look back over his shoulder. “Yes.”

The time had long since passed when he would address Megatron as “sir.”

Especially since Rodimus would make fun of him for it.

Megatron, standing only an arm’s length away, stared at him with patient disapproval, like he was waiting for Drift to sort himself out.

“Yes?” He tried again, making his answer a question, as would have been discursively appropriate.

“I have a question for you,” Megatron continued.

“Yes?” Drift automatically repeated.

“Rodimus has changed his paintwork again.” That wasn’t a question. Then again, Megatron often worded questions as statements, expecting the listener to pick out what was under scrutiny.  “I assume you’ve already seen him this morning.”

Drift opened his mouth, but apparently Megatron wasn’t finished.

“It seems he’s set on revenge again given his choice of palette. Whatever for?”

So he had learned how to form direct questions.

Growth.

“I—“

Actually, Drift hadn’t seen Rodimus yet today. The paintwork was likely sloppy—temporary—if he had done it without Drift.

Their paths just hadn’t crossed, not even in the communal shower like usual. Just the other day, Rodimus had complained to him about having seen Megatron and Ratchet drink their morning warm fuel in the shower for “efficiency.” Honestly, Drift had been surprised it had taken Rodimus so long to notice.

“No, to tell the truth, I haven’t seen him today, but it sounds like he’s gone with the purple.”

Megatron nodded.

Nothing immediately came to mind, but—No. Yesterday, in the midst of another of Rodimus’s shower gripes, he had bemoaned that Megatron hadn’t been as “touchy” as he had been before they had gotten separated in the Functionist Universe.

A bit of a strange complaint, Drift had thought at the time. Rodimus didn’t need shoulder pats that badly.

Or… oh.

It wasn’t shoulder pats Rodimus was after.

That was what was different back then. Rodimus’s paint. He had thought—Well, Megatron did always seem rather drawn to the color purple.

No wonder Rodimus had been asking Drift how he lived with Ratchet being someone who would drink a warm beverage in the damn shower. Drift had thought it was just exasperation and disgust, not a request for genuine advice.

However, that said something about Rodimus that Drift did not want to know. He did not want this information and the odds of successfully bribing Chromedome to surgically remove it were discouragingly low.

Best to simply let it go; move on.

If Rodimus wanted Megatron’s attention, then that would be Rodimus’s problem.

“He’s upset at you, I think.”

“Why?”

An understandable question, as it would seem that Megatron was blissfully free of the awful realization Drift had just had.

That question would remain, however, incomplete.

“Unfortunately, neither of you pay me nearly enough to ever answer that.”

Not that he needed the money.

 The least Drift could do for Megatron, in honor of past loyalty if nothing else, was to let him live in blessed ignorance for a while longer.

Megatron’s face scrunched in a way that Drift had only rarely seen before: befuddlement.

Before the captain could form a follow up question to Drift’s sidestepping answer, the door to the bridge was slammed back into the wall.

Rodimus burst in, tires squealing in his alt-mode.

His paintwork was an utter wreck: purple and black streaked unevenly over his usual palette, still sealed with top coat even. Rodimus hadn’t even bothered to remove the old paint, put on primer, or seal in the new.

An absolute mess on wheels.

This would take hours to fix.

Drift had no time to say anything. Megatron was already approaching the rolling disaster.

“What have you done to yourself? Did you just splash yourself with the paint?”

Rodimus flipped back into root-mode, just in time to give Drift a thumbs up, as Megatron grabbed him to haul him into the office. Presumably to clean him up.

Hopefully to clean him up.

Megatron muttered something about “completely inappropriate.”

Drift begged the powers that be that it was just to clean Rodimus up.

[lalalian]

LITERALLY every single DR I have

I have not completed the scripts for most of them 😭😭

KEYS: 💭 = Non-Media / Not from a book, movie, or show DR

Sorry if the grammar is bad, I’m too lazy to look over this post 😭😭

Magical Girl DR 💭

heavily inspired by Precure bcccc it’s cute. Who doesn’t want to fight enemies with frilly dresses?

Regular School DR 💭

School but like filled with drama, I have some things written out 😭😭 it’s super 2015 Wattpad-y so idk if I’m gonna talk abt it

Fantasy Minecraft YouTuber DR 💭

I KNOW WHAT YOURE THINKING… I DO NOTTTT LIKE ANY MINECRAFT YOUTUBER OTHER THAN LDSHADOWLADY AND SNIFFERFISH. I MEAN THAT LITERALLY. don’t misunderstand, please and thank you 🫶

Dreamscape Station DR 💭

I had a vision, but I’ve yet to work on this script enough for me to post a lot about it 😞 I did post about it tho on my TikTok account! Essentially it’s like the backrooms but cute, ethereal, not dangerous (kinda), and full of shifters from other realities. You take a train to different parts of ‘Dreamscape’ and explore! I made tickets for this DR too 😭😭

K-Pop Stan Life DR 💭

Self explanatory. I’m gonna be a fansite, buy as many albums as I could possibly buy, and trade cards with ppl online + provide lots of freebies!

J-Pop Idol DR (💭 kinda)

This was a requested script from someone on my request form (I’ve just realized I didn’t link my request form here on tumblr… it should be up before anyone’s read this). I ended actually using this script for my love live DR cuz my old love live scripts were the ugliest thing on the planet

Obsidian Bride DR

Obsidian Bride is a manhwa that’s literally Singles Inferno but in an isekai otome manhwa world + everyone’s based off a gem, your gem is chosen based on your life and personality!

MHA DR

I was influenced to shift here bc of Priicklleshifts on TikTok 😭😭😭. I don’t really like the actual anime that much, but it seems like a really fun place to shift to! The script for this DR is 100% complete (I haven’t added anything to it for months now)

Wind Breaker DR

Wind Breaker’s a bike racing manhwa that you can read for free on Webtoon. Idk who I’m gonna date, but I literally CANNOT date Jay bc he reminds me of my brother 😭😭

Made of Stardust DR

I’m so mad that nobody’s shifting here 😭 if you like fantasy romance books, stars, enemies to lovers, magical forests, angst, etherealism, I bet your ass would want to shift here. I plan to be Kalisa, and so far I don’t want to change the plot

Futuristic K-Pop DR 💭

Also self explanatory. I do have a filled version of this DR up if anyone wants to use it (It’s not in my current format tho cuz the script is old asf😭). I scripted in a contestant show where the contestants would come from different planets (Mars, Earth, and Kepler smth… I don’t remember the numbers)

Better CR DR 💭

The place I’ll probably be permashifting to

Hallows Ball DR 💭

Okay so I started this script like 2 years ago or smth and I was supposed to finish it before Halloween (it’s a masquerade ball DR but with a twist) and I just haven’t finished it yet 😭 let’s hope I finish it this year

How to Get my Husband on my Side DR

Another manhwa DR!

TGCF DR

I bought the first book to read bc I absolutely loved the anime 😭😭 I haven’t read more than like 30 pgs… I just really don’t like it when books are in third person 😭😭

Fantasy Kpop DR 💭

I completely forgot about this DR until I went through my TikTok account to see how ugly my themes were 😭😭 Basically this DR is set in a fantasy world, each of the kpop groups I scripted in are of different species (fae, vampires, elves, etc…) and I’ve gotta gather certain groups to help me find artifacts in every single kingdom so that magic doesn’t disappear (so corny omfggg…)

Hogwarts DR

I only wanted to shift here bc everyone else wanted to 😭😭

Old Kpop DR 💭

Not gonna shift here anymore, but the script is complete 😭😭 I remade it for my Kpop contestant DR

Kpop Contestant DR 💭

Self explanatory, there’s filled and non filled versions on my linktree

My Own Kpop Group DR 💭

This script happens in the same reality as my Kpop contestant one, this is this group I’ll be in once my contestant group disbands. My own Kpop group is time and mythology themed!

Laurier Academy DR 💭

An actual idol school DR, you learn how to be a Kpop idol + a bunch of other stuff. I made a whole school website for this DR and there’s a four versions of this script:

Filled Co-Ed

Empty Co-Ed

Filled Girls Only

Empty Girls Only

(Co-ed is all genders in one school)

Elite School DR 💭

Idk why anyone uses this script bc not only is it ugly but the formatting is 😨😨 this was my first script that I posted to TikTok, and it has all the characters from my other DRs as students. Idk why, but I made everyone has an animal form. Mines a cat (kinda boring but I wanna be able to sneak around 😭)

Dragon Rider Academy (Aethergarde Academy DR) 💭

There’s also a filled version of this script in my linktree, don’t recommend it tho cuz it’s also poorly formatted and ugly. I think this was the second script I posted on my TikTok account

Shifting Library DR (Realmwalker Library) 💭

It’s a shifting library but better! All the books here are written by shifters. There’s different sections for world building, storytimes, quizzes, fanfics (of other ppls DRs), tips & methods, nsfw storytimes (adults only plz), philosophy related to shifting, and discussions about shifting (idk why I didn’t just merge discussions with philosophy..). Don’t be surprised if some or most of the shifters here aren’t human! I scripted that all non malevont beings that shift can come here; this does also mean that the books are automatically translated into the language you understand best. Oh and the authors aren’t always going to be human.

Love and Deepspace DR

My script for this one is pretty much complete, but I really want to know more about MC’s evol before shifting here 😭

Mental Health DR

I won’t talk about this DR at all on TikTok or on here (sorry) bc it’s super personal and I don’t want to seem like a damn baby 😭😭. I’m actually kind of scared of men irl, plus I didn’t have the best high school experience in my DR. My goal with this DR is to practice talking to people and get over my fear of men. This DR is my first ever DR; my original intent with shifting is to help get over my fear of men + people in general, especially taller people

Waiting Room

My waiting room is essentially an isekai manhwa mansion 😭😭 I scripted that there’s a serving cart with one of those 3 tiered afternoon snack things + milk tea, the milk tea has special properties that calm me down immediately when I drink it. My goal is to use the smell of the tea to know that I’ve shifted, and to drink the tea so I don’t fuck myself over and shift back to my OR 😭😭

[rebelrebelwrites]

Fic Friday! ❤️ Rebel’s Weekly Fic Recs

As always, this week's recs are...

As always, please mind the tags on any recommended story for your own personal preferences.

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The Classic You’ve Heard Of But Somehow Haven’t Read Yet: Say Something True by eastwynds

What you need to know going in:

I read this fic a while back, thought I bookmarked it and somehow didn’t, and have been thinking about it since, planning on highlighting it in one of these weekly fic rec posts. Lo and behold, this week I started reading its sequel (more on that in a minute) and found it again! Another one of the great “what happened on the way to Eregion” fics, this one thrums with an undercurrent of fear—Galadriel’s fear that Halbrand won’t make it before they reach Eregion. Her grappling with her growing feelings and her barely-restrained terror that he might die is a standout in this story. In addition, you’ll see a stoic but pained Hal, and a supreme softness between the two of them that’s breathtaking. Bonus! It also has a few unique twists and turns that are a joy to read, and a brush of scintillating smut to boot. May I advise bookmarking then diving in? 😂 At the very least, don’t make the mistake I did!

Complete, Mature

Read the story.

Follow the author on AO3.

+++

The AU You Need to Immerse Yourself In Because, Well, Wow: just what i needed by @hazelmaines

What you need to know going in:

This fic! This week! Along with the last fic on this week’s list, this story basically got me through this week at work for its sheer delightfulness and how fully-realized and immersive it is. (Also, a major thank you and kudos to author @hazelmaines for the flurry of updates, always appreciated, even if it’s only temporary!) This modern AU has Galadriel and Halbrand meeting and majorly sparking at a religious summer camp. Gal’s exhausted by her family’s (unfair and unreasonable) expectations of her and her faith, and Halbrand is dealing with a similar aimlessness as the son of the pastors in charge of the camp. It’s early days for this story, but the back-and-forth between these two is electric, and the setting serves as a fantastic metaphor for canon in so many ways, and is just incredibly authentic. I’m so excited to see these where these two go, and how they’ll reckon with a world where they don’t seem to fit… except together, that is. 😉

WIP, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

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The Complete But Never Forgotten Masterpiece: the once and future -- by @mortaltempless

What you need to know going in:

Hnnnng this fic, another great addition to the Saurondriel fandom from @mortaltempless — and another favorite of mine. A canonverse, post-S1 one-shot, this has such a unique and harrowing (in the best way) premise: 10 years after Sauron deceives Galadriel, she, Celeborn, and Elrond capture a prisoner from the Southlands… who recounts the chilling legend of the Southlands lost queen. 👀👀👀 Care to guess who she might be? I won’t say more since this is a self-contained story, so just trust me when I say that as always with @mortaltempless’ works, this fic is impeccably written, has a dash of smoldering smut, and a simmering, soulful angst that will take root in your soul. So. Damn. Good.

Complete, Explicit

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr, Twitter and AO3.

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The WIP That Will Wreck You (In the Best Way): An Ocean of Tears by @honeyfarts666

What you need to know going in:

A Sauron redemption story! Yes, it’s Sad Mairon in this fic, burrowing away in the wilderness to lick his wounds after Galadriel finds out who he is and rejects him. There, he begins to contemplate a better existence—if he’s capable of one. Jury’s still out, but I’m very intrigued to find out. Meanwhile, Galadriel has her own secrets she’s keeping… (that I won’t spoil) and when they meet again after so much time apart, the secrets are bound to be revealed. It feels like there’s so much on the horizon for this fic, which is just getting started, but Sauron’s genuine-(ish?) repentance (plus, his having a few animal buddies to keep him company) is enchanting to read. Still, angst and inner turmoil feel like they’re just under the surface of every moment, and I’m steeling myself for what will come next. Can’t wait! 😍

WIP, Mature

Read the story.

Follow the author on Tumblr and AO3.

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The Can't Stop Consuming No Matter What Time It Is Fic: In Case of Defeat, Break Glass by eastwynds

What you need to know going in:

Aaaaand I’m totally doing it and putting TWO stories by the same author in one fic rec post, but it’s so warranted! This story is the sequel to Say Something True that I mentioned above, and I kid you not, this fic basically got me through this week at work. I binged it like a fiend after rereading it’s precursor, and my only regret with doing so is that I’m now all caught up. Where the prequel ends in Eregion for our favorite ETL pair, the sequel picks up after Halbrand’s reveal, with Galadriel on her way back to the Southlands to treat with Sauron after he sent her a mysterious missive. I’m going to gloss over plot because I don’t want to spoil anything and the TWISTS, you guys… SO good. Literally, every chapter I was on the edge of my seat wondering what was coming next. What I will spill is that it’s a post-S1 epic journey in which Gal and Sauron are thrust together to work against another foe, and again, I’m just so impressed with the amount of surprising but familiar plot threads this author weaves, and I also thoroughly enjoy the characterization they employ for Gal and Sauron. It’s such a contrast to the prequel, which had so much more raw tenderness to it, whereas here, Sauron is so much cheekier, and Gal bristles but also basks in their banter together, and the weight of what came before is this ever-present shadow of sadness. It’s… I mean, you can’t stop consuming it, like the title of this fic rec category says! So don’t try; just start reading it today if you’re not already on it. 😂

WIP, Mature

Read the story.

Follow the author on AO3.

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🤩🤩🤩

Me at all these fics:

Don’t see your story on this list yet? Keyword: yet. Please don’t fret! I can only recommend so many each week, but I am always looking for more stuff to read, share, and generally shower with love, so please feel free to reply with your own fics or your personal faves. I have plenty more to recommend… ❤️

Until next week!

[slutforstabbings-archive]

Clean Again

Chapter 11: RULED BY MARS read on AO3 | previous chapter | tumblr chapter index make sure to check AO3 for this fic's playlist and other extras! Corey can't put off meeting Veronica any longer. general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, eventual smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter - angst, semi-coerced drug use, detailed description of getting way too stoned 4,618 words @rebel-blue @heartrot666 @wolvesandvampires @cordelium @toxicanonymity @multifandom--mess @hersweetrevenge @futurewife @yllcm @ethanhoewke dm me or reply to this post to be added to the tag list 💕

The knife Corey gave you makes your purse heavier than usual as you trek across a massive, muddy field with Veronica and Rose. The three of you tried to get to the flea market early but you weren’t early enough to find parking in the paved lot.

“I can’t believe you love him and I haven’t met him yet!” Veronica says

“I know, I know! I want you to meet him, I want everyone to meet him. But he’s shy.” A severe understatement of whatever is going on with your sweet, strange boyfriend.

“Have you ever gone anywhere with him?” Veronica asks as you arrive at the gates.

The sound of the vendors’ radios playing music over tinny speakers - Contemporary Christian, Grunge, Trap, Mariachi - floats to you from beyond the chain link fence. A gentle gust of wind brings you the smells of barbecue and fried food.

“The grocery store?” you supply. “The library?”

“Okay, those absolutely do not count.”

“Then I guess I haven’t. People make him nervous.”

The three of you enter the market. It’s laid out like a maze, but you have it memorized from years of traversing the cramped and crowded aisles. Your feet carry you instinctively towards the tables and stalls you know have the most interesting items and the best prices. Your friends keep step beside you.

“So if you never go anywhere, what do you do all the time?” Rose asks.

“That’s what I wanna know!” Veronica adds.

“We hang out, I dunno. We watch movies, we play video games, I’ve been teaching him some stuff in the kitchen when I cook for us…” You trail off, realizing that nothing you could say about your time with Corey would make it sound interesting to someone who isn’t there, who hasn’t experienced him like you get to. “You know, it’s not about what we do. It’s about spending time together.”

“The dick must be out of this world,” Veronica responds.

“Oh my god,” you say.

“V!” Rose chides at the same time.

“ For your information the dick is stellar ,” you hiss. “But so is his personality,” you continue, returning to your normal volume. “I genuinely just like to hang out with him, no matter what we’re doing.”

You peruse a few stalls without saying anything to each other except Wow! Look at this! and Oof, prices just aren’t what they used to be . But Veronica isn’t giving up that easily.

“For real though, don’t you ever get bored?” She demands, rummaging through a bin of vintage happy meal toys.

“Nope,” you dismiss her.

“But don’t you want to spend time with him like, at places? And events?” Rose asks.

“Of course I do! But my relationships have had some boundary problems in the past, if you hadn’t noticed. I’m trying to respect his limits.”

“All I know is if I hadn’t seen him that one time, my belief in him would be limited,” Veronica jokes. “Like that boyfriend who ‘went to another school’ in seventh grade.”

“Fuck you!” You say, cringing but laughing, remembering the boy you made up out of pieces of pro skaters and bass players to feel cool. “I promise you’ll get to meet him ASAP if you never bring that up again.”

“Deal!” Veronica says, setting a tiny Betty Spaghetty back into the box in front of her and sticking out her hand. You clasp it in your own and shake it vigorously.

When you get home Corey is sprawled out asleep on the couch in his boxers, the crocheted blanket you keep in the living room hanging off of him. Last night when he woke you up he seemed exhausted. Though he ravished you with kisses, you could feel his limbs getting heavy on him and you gently coaxed him to slow down and go to sleep. This morning when you woke you slipped from his arms and got ready, thinking the thing with the knife must’ve been a particularly vivid dream, or the confused invention of a mind still half asleep. Until you went to kiss Corey goodbye and saw it there on the nightstand, folded up, handle glittering under the lamp that never got turned off. Your lips on his skin roused him and he insisted on getting out of bed and walking you to the door. You told him he should stay comfortable, go back to sleep, but he refused. As he kissed you goodbye, he put the knife in your purse to make sure you had it. Then, it seems, he passed back out on the couch.  

You know he needs the rest, and you're not exactly eager to hold up your end of the deal with Veronica, so you do your best not to disturb him, every sound feeling impossibly loud in your small apartment. He finally wakes up in the early afternoon. You’re in the dining room doing some hand sewing tasks with headphones on when he shuffles in. You don’t realize he’s there until he’s behind you, plucking the buds from your ears. You jump up from your chair and spin around in surprise. 

“Jesus, Corey!” You scold. “That’s the kind of shit that’ll make me use that knife on you! Or a fucking seam ripper.” You brandish the tool in your hand at him, then set it on the table. Corey smirks.

“How was the market?” He opens his arms to receive you for a hug. 

“Pretty good. I’ve got some cool stuff to show you later. Veronica was kinda on one though.”

“About what?” he asks the top of your head.

“About meeting you.” You say it like an admission of guilt. And you do feel guilty, because you already know what his reaction will be, before he groans and deflates in your arms, before he pulls back to look at you with a pained expression, before he asks his question. 

“What does she wanna meet me so bad for? I’m nothin’ special.”

“Corey. You are something special. I wanna show you off! And she’s my best friend. It’s honestly kinda weird that she hasn’t met you yet. I want to hang out with my two favorite people, together .”

He groans your name. You put your hands on his cheeks and rub his temples with your thumbs, trying to encourage him to relax his sour face. It doesn't work.

"Look, I know of a couple of restaurants that are super quiet during the week, we can grab dinner somewhere where we'll be the only people, and it'll be so chill." 

“Why can’t she meet me here?” He asks like a petulant child.

“If you really want me to, I'll convince her and we can all have a nice night in. But she thinks it’s weird that we never go anywhere, and it’ll make a better first impression on her if we hang out somewhere else.”

Corey looks into your eyes for a moment, seeming to search for something. It’s not clear if he finds what he’s looking for or gives up, but his lids flutter closed and he sighs.

“Somewhere really quiet?”

“Yes, I already know exactly where. There’s a pub that we all like that’s always totally dead on weekdays. It’s super cozy and the food is really good.”

He rests his forehead on yours in defeat. “Okay.”

In the evening you text Veronica.

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

It’s Wednesday. Corey goes home to his own apartment after work. He showers in his little phone booth shower, the tiny bathroom filling with dense steam. He shaves his face, careful not to fuck it up with trembling hands. Towel wrapped around his hips, he digs through his clothes, unsure of what to wear. He has to force himself to complete one step of the getting ready process at a time, stuffing his phone in his pillow case to quell the urge to text you and ask to change the plan. Dread boils in his stomach. He lights a cigarette, and then another one, drinking them more than smoking them in his desperation. When he’s feeling as ready as he thinks he ever will, he climbs on his motorcycle and speeds to your apartment, rolling through stop signs and accelerating at yellow lights, trying to compress the ride as much as possible. His tires cut a deep groove in the gravel of your driveway as he screeches to a halt in his usual spot.

“Bathroom!” He hears you call as he lets himself into your apartment and takes off his shoes.

He walks into the bathroom and sees you sitting on the counter. Your hair is wet and held back with a headband. You’re dressed in nothing but the largest t-shirt Corey has ever seen. You look away from the mirror where you’re doing your makeup and give him The Smile, but it barely dents his anxiety. He gives you a quick peck on the lips and when he pulls away he walks to the other end of the bathroom, stalking back and forth like a predator in a too-small cage. 

“You’re awfully early,” you say, digging in your makeup bag.

“I just wanted to spend some time with you alone.”

“Aww, Corey. It's gonna go great,” you assure his reflection as you do your eyeliner. “You don’t need to be nervous. Veronica is gonna love you. I don’t know how anyone could meet you and not love you.”

“You’re biased,” he replies miserably. 

The pacing is just making him more anxious, so he leans against the wall next to you while you finish your makeup and blow dry your hair.

He follows you when you go into your bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looks at the floor while you get dressed. Despite having sex, showering together, and sleeping tangled in each other’s limbs with every inch of your bare skin sticking to his, he still feels like there’s moments when he’s not supposed to look. You don’t seem to think anything of it, but it just feels respectful to avert his eyes while you shimmy into your underwear. He hears a zipper going up and your bare feet enter his line of sight. Your toenails are painted the color of dried blood. 

You squeeze his chin with your thumb and pointer finger, encouraging him to look up at you. Corey's only ever seen you dressed up to go out from a distance, or at the end of the night when your makeup has been reduced to a smattering of colorless glitter and you've long ago pulled your sweat-damp hair into a bun. He's a wretched bundle of nerves – he's not sure he's been this anxious since the first day of his manslaughter trial – but even so, he’s taken by seeing you like this, fresh and up close, for the first time. He doesn’t know fashion words but he can tell you’re doing something, and doing it well. For one flickering second he’s glad this is happening, feeling stupid for not joining you out before now. He wants so badly to see you in your element, looking like a model and doing the violent dance you described the first time he noticed bruises on you that he hadn’t left with his mouth. 

As you lean in to kiss him, soft and warm and tacky with tinted balm, Corey wishes he had the power to stop time. To freeze this moment, avoid all the hazards of being asked unanswerable questions or the waitress being so sure she’s seen him somewhere before, to remain safely trapped in your sticky kiss for all eternity like a bug fossilized in amber. No such luck. You pull away and bring your thumb up from his chin to wipe the transferred makeup off his bottom lip. 

“I love you,” Corey says, fearing in his gut it’s the last time he’ll ever get to say it.

“I love you, too,” you reply, and it’s even scarier that it might be the last time you ever say it back.

When you pull up to the pub Corey recognizes it. He’s been here, watching you, parked in the shadows down the street. He’s seen you laugh and toss your hair, silhouetted in the window under the neon Krelborn’s sign, pregaming for a big night, and watched you struggle to sit up straight when you came back hours later to satiate your munchies. 

You parallel park behind an idling Volkswagen Jetta. He waits for you to turn the car off, but you don’t. Instead, the Jetta goes dark and silent. The driver steps out of their car and opens the rear door of yours.

“Good evening, y’all!” Veronica lilts as she slides into the backseat.

“Hello, hello!” You sing back, twisting in your seat to face her. “Veronica Hand, this is Corey Carpenter. Corey, Veronica.”

Veronica leans forward between the seats and offers her hand to him. “So nice to finally meet you!”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says, shaking her outstretched hand. Corey tries to smile a nice, normal smile. He’s acutely aware of his body language, feeling Veronica’s eyes, knowing she’s assessing him already. 

On the drive here he’d asked you if she was interested in true crime. You shrugged and said just the normal amount, as if there was one. When you wanted to know why he asked, he reminded you of what you said the first night he came over. It’s just my friend checking in. She’s nervous about you coming over, 'cause you could be a serial killer or something. You assured him it was a bad joke, and that texting to check in standard even if your date’s vibes are in no way serial killer-y. You quoted one of the films from the teen drama-comedy night you arranged last week, though he couldn’t remember which one. That’s just like, the rules of feminism! You said.

Somehow the conversation failed to make him feel any better, any less like he would be under a microscope every second he was in Veronica’s sight.

“I know you’re nervous so I brought a little something to make the night more fun for everyone,” she’s saying, pulling a small, flat, silver box out of her purse. She pops it open and removes a single hand-rolled cigarette. It’s made with such skill it takes Corey a second to realize it’s a joint, it’s so different from the ones he refused in high school. 

He looks to you and you return his gaze.

“Do you want to?” You ask. 

He scans your face, conflicted. He had a lot of fun smoking with you, but that was in the safety of your apartment. No strangers. And no chance of being seen by the cops.

“We won’t get in trouble?”

You and Veronica both laugh. It stings his already raw nerves.

“The county decriminalized it a couple years ago,” you inform him. “Plus, this neighborhood is super chill. That’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah, this place is a well kept secret, so don’t go spilling the beans.” Veronica points at him. 

Corey forces a little chuckle.

“Okay,” he says, feeling helpless. Being steered towards saying yes makes him realize he wants to say no. He really can’t afford to lower his guard tonight, not even a little bit, not even for one second, but his only reasonable protest was deflated by decriminalization. What other reason could he give to reject Veronica’s hospitality? He’s learned the hard way how poorly that goes over down here, making enemies by accident at work. His only option is to acquiesce. 

Veronica lights the joint and takes a drag, then holds it out between the front seats. You take it from her. The three of you pass it around and the inside of the car clouds. Corey takes it every time it’s offered, despite already starting to feel the way he felt the other night. After a few more rounds you hesitate to pass it to him.

“You doing okay, lightweight?” You ask him.

“Yeah,” he says. “Terrific.” 

If he’s terrific, it’s in the original way of the word – full of terror. He’s sweating and his tongue feels like it’s the size of a hockey puck. His heart beats against his ribs like it’s trying to escape. His stomach turns like it’s being wrung out by invisible hands. You study him for a moment, then pass the joint back to Veronica instead of him, cracking a window. The tiny current of cool, fresh air feels glorious, but it’s not good enough. The car seems to be getting smaller and smaller, like he bit into a cookie that said Eat Me.

Once the joint has burned down too short to hold, Veronica places the roach back in her cigarette case and slips out of the car. You roll the window back up and turn the key. Corey tries and fails to open his door, clawing at it, on the verge of a panic attack.

“Hey,” you say in a soothing voice, putting your hand on his thigh. “If you’re feeling sick, or freaking out, that’s normal. You just went a little overboard. A hotbox is a lot for your second time. Just breathe. It’ll pass in like, 10 minutes.” You lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek. 

Corey’s head pounds. His fingers tingle and he can still feel your lips, like your kiss left a chemical burn. He tries to ask to go home, but he can only produce a barely audible croak, and you’re already closing your door and joining Veronica on the sidewalk. He opens the car door and nearly falls out, struggling to get his footing under Veronica’s baleful eye. He suddenly feels very sure that she’s onto him, that she knows everything about him already. If he lies to her she’ll catch him red-handed, and she’ll tell you everything. She’s going to be a problem , he thinks. 

Veronica leads the way into the pub, to a booth in the back corner. The interior looks like it was put together with a $15 budget. The tables, booths, and chairs, all mismatched and clearly salvaged, cracks in the leather patched over with green tape, rest directly on the plywood subfloor, which has been painted a powdery-looking black. Above the bar, the beer list is written on a chalkboard in cramped, messy handwriting. A single speaker on a shelf weakly broadcasts a song with beautiful, sparkling guitars, and vocals like the singer is being attacked. Corey thinks he might like it under different circumstances, but right now the juxtaposition only serves to set him even more on edge. 

Mercifully the restaurant is almost empty. The only other people are the employees, a couple near the door with their heads together, and a solitary man at the end of the bar with a pint of dark beer in front of him. You and Veronica make small talk. You lace your fingers with Corey’s under the table, and he tries to focus on the sensation of your small, warm hand in his palm while he waits to come down a little. 

A girl brings menus and a glass of water to the table. She greets you and Veronica by name and sets the cup in front of Corey.

“You look like you need that,” she says. 

“Thank you,” he rasps. 

You and Veronica order your drinks and an appetizer. The waitress didn’t give him a straw, so Corey lifts his glass to his lips with a shaky hand and chugs. Then he gets paranoid about having bad manners and sets the glass down, blotting his lips with his hand. Veronica looks at him with raised brows. 

“Cool ring,” she says.

“Thanks.”  

“Pretty unique. Looks vintage.”

“Uh, it was my dad’s.” Corey can’t help but think of the teen movie marathon again, imagining Veronica’s interest as plastic, and as soon as he’s out of earshot she’ll whisper to you that it’s the ugliest effing ring I’ve ever seen . When he blinks his eyelids feel like sandpaper. It’s so fucking hot in here. Has it been 10 minutes yet? 

“Veronica loves vintage jewelry,” you say. “She found some really cool shit at the flea market the other day. There was this Victorian bracelet the seller didn’t even realize was super rare.”

“Yeah, I almost felt bad about how little I paid. Almost.”

“Almost,” you echo, nodding.

Corey finishes his water, drinking more slowly. He can feel it sloshing unpleasantly inside him every time he moves, but he’s never been thirstier in his life.  The waitress delivers him another glass with the appetizer. 

“How long have you lived here?” 

“Year and a half,” Corey feels his mouth say. 

It’s like his brain has been split in two. He isn’t paying attention, the vibrations of the very molecules he’s made of are so loud he can’t focus on anything but that and the washed out, crackling sound of the speaker. Yet he’s giving coherent responses, answering Veronica’s questions before they even register. 

And Veronica asks him a lot of questions. Veronica bombards him with questions.

“Where are you from?”

 He already told you Illinois, so he has to be honest, and when she asks for the name of the town, the part of his brain doing the talking is relieved he wasn’t stupid enough to tell you that too. He just says it’s rural and small, not the kind of place people have heard of. It’s not a lie. No one would have heard of it, if it wasn’t for Michael. Still, it’s a risky move. She lets him get away with it. 

“Do you like it here?”

“It’s better than home.”

“Where do you work?” He tries to be vague but she weasels the name of the shop out of him, saying “Oh, where? There aren’t any VW dealerships in town and my current guy always complains when I come in.” 

Maybe it’s not the car they’re complaining about , half of Corey’s mind thinks.

“How long have you been a mechanic?” “How did you start working on cars?” “Did you go to college?” “Why only for two years?” “What did you plan to major in?” “What made you interested in that?”

When his food is set on the table, the sick feeling he’s been battling since the third time the joint was placed between his fingers is immediately replaced with gnawing hunger. He devours his own meal in record time, all concern about manners gone, before he starts stealing your fries, sliding them one by one off your plate in an attempt to be sneaky. You catch him almost right away, but you just laugh and put your plate where it’s easier for him to reach. Veronica finally lets up when she and Corey both have their mouths full. 

While she’s still eating he starts to feel all the water he drank, and he’s pleased to have an excuse to ask you to let him out of the booth before she can start up again.

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

You crane your neck to watch your boyfriend’s broad back disappear around the corner towards the bathroom. “What are you doing?” You ask as soon as he’s gone.

“Trying to get to know your boyfriend.”

“Why are you asking him a bunch of shit I’ve already told you?”

“I’m making sure his story’s consistent.”

“And why are you doing that, Detective?” You’re frustrated. The night hasn’t been terrible, but it hasn’t gone how you hoped at all. You wanted Veronica and Corey to hang out, not play Interrogation. You know she’s not endearing herself to him by acting this way.

“I don’t know.” Veronica picks at the label on the glass bottle in front of her. “He was so resistant to meet me, I wanna be sure he isn’t hiding anything.”

You heave a sigh. “I really appreciate that you’re worried about me, V. You’ve seen me through more relationship bullshit than you should have had to. But Corey doesn’t have any of the red flags that Hurley and Orin did. You can’t make him guilty by association.”

“I’m not! I’m making him suspicious by association.” She laughs. “But I’ll chill.”

“Thank you.”

Over her shoulder you see Corey leave the bathroom and slip out the front door, already pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket

“What do you think though?”

“I haven’t gotten enough from him to really know. He’s pretty… terse.”

“Thinks a lot but doesn’t say much. Remember when I said that was his vibe?”

“Yeah, back when he was just Mr. Library.”

“Also I think we greened him out a little.”

“Oops,” Veronica says with a grimace.

You wait five, ten, fifteen minutes for Corey to come back inside. Veronica remarks on how long he’s been gone, and you’re just about to stand up to go find him when he comes back through the door.

“So,” she prompts as he settles into the booth, on the outside this time. “What’s your sign?”

“Seriously?” You ask with a snort.

“What? I don’t believe in it that much, I just think it’s fun,” she defends.

“I don’t know my sign,” Corey says.

Veronica looks to you, silently asking if you can fill in the gap.

“Um… I don’t know either, I never remember which dates are what.” The statement is true enough, but you’re using it as a cover. A more honest reply would be I don’t know Corey’s birthday . What the fuck? How are you just now realizing you don’t know his fucking birthday? You sink into the booth.

“Well, when were you born?” Veronica asks.

“April 18th,” Corey says. If he realizes this is the first time you’ve heard that date, he makes no indication.

“Ah. An Aries.”

“What does that mean?”

“Aries is the ram. Named after the god of War, ruled by the planet Mars. Aries can be aggressive, impulsive, quick to explosive anger, impatient. They love instant gratification and dangerous situations.”

“Wow, super insightful,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. You want out of this conversation, out of this restaurant, now . You don’t want to process that this is how you found out a major piece of information about the man you’ve been dating for months with an audience. “That’s why I don’t fuck with it. It’s always just a list of mean adjectives.”

Corey tries to take your hand under the table, but you keep your fingers curled under so he can’t slip his between them. You’re not sure if you’re mad at him or not, if you should be mad at him or not.

“There’s positives too! Aries are really passionate. They love a challenge. And they’ll fight like hell on behalf of their loved ones,” Veronica offers.

“Good to know,” you say with finality.

The waitress, your friend Shelly, approaches the table. She looks between the three of you with curiosity, sensing the vibe has changed. “Dessert?” She asks.

“Yes, please,” Corey says.

She lists options, cakes and pies provided by a bakery down the street. Corey asks for a slice of chocolate cake.

“To go, please,” you add.

Veronica shoots you a look across the table.

“Just tired.” You shrug, trying to seem casual.

She doesn’t buy it. The two of you just look at each other until Shelly returns with Corey’s cake in a plastic container. She sets it on the table with a disposable fork and the check. Veronica breaks eye contact to reach for the check, but Corey’s already holding it, fumbling to get his wallet out of his pocket. He hands Shelly a wad of cash and tells her to keep the change. You cross your fingers he’s not too stoned to do the math for the tip.