#and I want to make it easier to take time off for the funeral

[louisgoldenhour]

worst fucking 24 hours of my life

[coupleoffanfics]

teehee I have a small thought (batfam related, yk that one where y/n gets killed)

imagine if y/n was brought back by the pit, but instead of being a "shell" in that hc u made, she becomes completely stoic, like just blurts out what she was feeling back when she was neglected with the most blank expression ever, I imagine it being more focused on bruce and Damian since yk..bruce was the shittiest parent ever, and Damian with his sparky ass insults.

You…God, damnit Anon. You summoned me and I suddenly have the motivation to write after reading your two requests.

I don't know if you wanted a one-shot or HC. So I just went with a HC because it's much easier to push out. Though if you want me to make a one-shot feel free to ask. I'll take 7 years to write it. Though at the end I did sort of a one-shot.

Damian should have known something was wrong when y/n didn't start thrashing around and attacking anything that moved after crawling out of the pit. She just stared at her hands, clenching them into firsts and then unclenching them slowly.

Maybe Damian was too relieved to see y/n breathing and moving to really care. Maybe he thought that she was just in shock. Coming back to life isn't always expected and it can take a real toll on someone.

Not to mention that y/n was, compared to her brothers, far weaker. Not just physically, but mentally as well. So it's not surprising that she was so docile, right? It's only a matter of time before that effect wears off and she'll be normal. Or something close to normal.

Okay, maybe deep down Damian knew that there was a chance that he wasn't getting y/n back. Everyone knew that there was no getting her back, but he was willing to take the risk. He came this far and it didn't take long for Bruce to pick up on what his youngest was doing.

Damian has his big sister back and he's not going to let her go again. It's only a matter of hours before Bruce comes breaking down the door to drag them back to Gotham. So Damian took the time to clean up y/n.

She was still in her funeral clothes for goodness sake. She reeked of death, but that didn't stop the boy from hugging her tightly.

While getting cleaned up, she doesn't say a thing. Or even make a lot of noise. It was almost like she was still dead.

By the time Bruce gets there, he's not surprised by Damian's actions. He thought of doing the same thing, but he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. He couldn't disrespect her life by bringing her back. How could he dare think of that when she looked so at peace when she died.

He remembers how her body was tense before it became horrifyingly relaxed. There was a fear of death in those [eye color] eyes, he knows because he saw it. But it was so quick and fleeting that he could have missed it if he wasn't so close.

In a twisted way he wished y/n had clung on to him just like she did when she was a wide eyed little girl and cried. Cry that she didn't want to die. Cry that it was too early to leave now. Cry that she didn't want to leave them.

But all she did was give a crooked smile and mumble to herself as blood dribbled down her chin. She spoke incoherent things to herself. A name or two slipped from her cold lips, but they weren't ones of her family. From what he gathered it was just a close friend and her significant other's name. She died thinking of those who cared and loved her back. Not of the family that she couldn't stand to be around.

Even when her own adopted father held her dying from close, they were far from her line of thought.

So seeing y/n alive was gut reaching for Bruce. There was no pain, anger, sadness, or joy on her face. She was just there. Staring at him with an uncomfortable indifference.

Damian was ready to start a fight with Bruce. Not a physical one, but he would cross that line if he needed to. He was ready to defend himself in what he thought was best for y/n. Yet Bruce lets out a quiet sigh and tells that it's time to come home. How anticlimactic.

The plane ride back to Gotham is long and quiet. It also felt cramped by how close Damian was to y/n and unwilling to give her too much space.

By the time they made it back to the manor, everyone was caught up to date. The development is surprising to some while others not so much.

Everyone is in the bat cave. Gathered around to see y/n back from the dead. The silence is deafening as they wait for something. Just something from her, but she walked past them all. Out of the cave and to where her room was. Nothing was out of place in her room, though it was mostly empty after she had moved out a few years ago. She laid on her bed and slept as if nothing was amiss.

That's where the family infighting starts. Question of was this the right thing. What are going to do now? Why the hell did you think this was a good idea? There's going to be a lot of hash words being shared, but at the end of the day what was done was done and they had y/n back. They weren't going to mess up the second time.

Did they really get a second chance because it didn't feel like it. A week would pass and y/n has yet to come out of her room. She's alive and breathing because the trays of food left outside her door are always empty.

The camera's installed while she slept showed that she was doing nothing. All she did was lay in bed. She'd get up to use her private bathroom, but other than that there wasn't much. She was rotting away alone in her room.

This rang familiar bells in Alfred, Bruce, and Tim's head. y/n wasn't prone to long depressive episodes, so this could be something similar. The lack of socializing and excessive oversleeping was typically a big red sign for them to do something. In the past they would not force, but push her into doing social things or at least being out of her room.

They could approach this situation the same way, but they'd have to be extra careful. This was a unique and tricky situation to be in. It was also odd if not worrying that she hasn't succumbed to lazarus fever.

They could try to bribe y/n out of her room with activities that have to do with her old hobbies.

"Alfred is baking today, he said might need some help."

"I just stole the keys to the batmobile, you wanna take it for a ride?"

"Hey, do you want to…um, play a video game with me. I remember we used to play Hellflight Deadcraze a lot. They came out with the 3rd game. I just bought it today, so...Yeah."

Though the likelihood of that working is low. If they're really desperate to interact with her, they might as well just bust down her door.

At some point all the poking and prodding is going to irritate y/n. Whoever popped her bubble is going to be on the receiving end of pent up emotions.

I don't believe y/n would ever intentionally say how much the family's treatment harmed her. Again it would bubble up and fester for a while before she explodes. The thing about y/n is that she has an inferiority complex. In her life she aimed to please and help.

She understands that Gotham is dangerous. A lot of people need help and she couldn't bring herself to pull them away from their job. To her it would be like pulling a fireman away from a fire to chat as people burned alive. Even if the fire was out the fireman would be tired and need to rest, so she couldn't just pull them wherever she wanted to go. She shouldn't pester them.

In y/n's eyes, she was never worthy of being a hero because she wasn't good enough. She was never worthy of being with the family because she wasn't helping enough. She should do this to prove her worth. She's not worthless because she can do this for you and this as well!

She embodies inferiority and self-loathing. Someone that feels insignificant and has the strong urge to do more. She has- or had in this situation, hope. Hope that she'll be worthy of love. Love, affection, praise is what drives her and will seek it out if she's desperate. If she does ask or seek it out she'll be feeling guilty since she didn't really do anything to get it. In her mind she was being greedy and she couldn't help herself.

Bonus

"Just stop. Leave me alone." Her voice was almost pleading as she gripped the wrapped gift box. The gift was a symbol of peace, almost a treaty. That's all it was supposed to be, but she acts as if she had been spat in the eye.

Seeing that Bruce wasn't listening to her, she dug her nails into the gift. Almost tearing into the [favorite color] wrapped paper. He stood before her like an unmoving entity. The longer he stood by the more she wanted to snap into herself. She didn't want to slowly curl into a ball. She wanted to snap herself together with a violent and almost sickening crack. This just wasn't fair.

Clenching her jaw, her voice became much colder. It wasn't as cold as the middle of winter, yet it still had a chill to it.

"I thought you'd get it that I didn't want this. I shut you out, but you- all of you just keep buzzing. None of you are getting the hint. You just keep coming back louder than before. Why can't you let me be alone? Why can't you act overworked and tired? Why can't you just leave things the way they were?"

Bruce was conflicted upon hearing her say that and would try to claim that everything is going to come around. Everything always comes around in the end and this wouldn't be any different. They are going to get through this as a family.

y/n's frown would deepen and her eyes would furrow at his attempt at comfort. She looks as if she just ate something that was expired, leaving her mouth with nothing but a nasty sour taste.

"Because we're family." She whispered to herself before almost grimacing at the words. Her voice became sharp and cold as a blade, "I don't understand why you'd suggest that I was still a part of the family. I don't think I've been family for a good while now."

She clicked her tongue as she dropped the gift box while looking Bruce in the eyes. "Come on, you can't say you cared about me after I stopped being useful. When did you realize that I wasn't anything special? Was it when I kept crying about punching villains or when I was too slow to teach."

Seeing the conflicted look in his blue eyes confused her. Why would the truth conflict someone unless it was pity. Even after all this she's just a pitiful little crybaby to him. One good hit and she's out wailing on the floor for someone to kiss her boo-boo away.

Somehow this hurt her. Her pounding heart felt like it was twisting on itself. She wanted to cry and laugh at how she thought things couldn't get any worse. Then somehow it did. The universe, the world, the Wayne had proved her wrong yet again. It was as funny as it was sad.

She could have broken down there, but she needed to hear it. She had to hear the truth, so she kept twisting her heart with her own hands. It didn't matter how much it hurt.

"Or maybe you were in denial? You had wasted a lot of time and resources on a dud. Then Damian threw cold water on you and left you shivering, right? I'm just leeching off of you and the others. Then…Then you choose them over me. I was an afterthought, or is that being too generous? Did I ever circulate in your mind before this?"

Her voice was becoming shrill and gruff like she was on the verge of tears. "When did you realize that I was dead weight, Batman? Did I make Bruce Wayne look more caring to the people when I talk about how much I love my family? Did my life serve any use or was I always just a speck of dirt on your shoes?"

Those words were far from the truth, yet with how she spoke Bruce knew that she believed in all that she was saying. Each and every word was true to her. Honestly he didn't know what to say. This was all too much. Having to hear your own child degrade themselves with such honesty was heartbreaking.

Taking his silence as a sort of confirmation, y/n ordered him to leave and of course he did. He'd fix this somehow. He just needed time. They needed time.

I cut off the ending because I didn't want to write too much. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it. I haven't proofread this, Google Doc says there aren't any errors (probably a lie), and it's 3 in the morning. Goodnight.

[irisintheafterglow]

it's no secret that olympic athlete!sakusa despises parties. you don't make it easier on him, especially during the jackals' annual holiday party.

cw: a little suggestive toward the end but nothing explicit (he does things to me can you blame me)

he was in hell. the table was too loud, the people were too loud, and he couldn't find you. to make matters worse, his teammates seemed to be hellbent on catching you and him under the mistletoe.

"i swear, i'm going to shove a candy cane so far up your-"

"hey, no vulgarity! it's christmas," atsumu cuts in with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. the effects of the spiked eggnog in his cup were obvious, much to sakusa's disgust. "plus, objects shoved up our lovely posteriors would impede our mission for the night." snickers run through the remainder of the group, drowned out immediately by the chatter of the party. even though it was tradition and the most talked about event for months, it still didn't make the atmosphere any less hell-like.

"and then i'm going to hide your bodies so well, the police won't even know where to look," sakusa continues, sending them a glare over the rim of his soju bottle. his friends watch his eyes flick over the faces in the crowd, searching the shut-down hotel restaurant for whom they could only assume was you.

"yeah, yeah, then you'll be at our funerals with the fake tears running rampant and telling our mothers how great we were. we've heard this spiel before," bokuto dismisses with a wave of his hand and a knowing smirk on his face. "just you wait. you'll be thanking us later, lover boy."

"i hate you all," he replies, registering the journalist's approach seconds before she arrives at their table. "media," he warns quietly. "don't do anything dumb."

"evening, boys," she greets a split second later, shrewd eyes raking over the group. sakusa tries to keep his grimace off his face. the task proves difficult, though, when he can practically hear atsumu set his sights on charming her by the end of the night. "mind if i snap a picture of you all looking so handsome?" atsumu clumsily sputters out an answer, resting an arm around hinata's shoulders and forcefully pulling sakusa closer as bokuto smiles wide enough to cover the entire frame. a click and a familiar blinding flash later, the image is taken and he tenses in anticipation of the inevitable follow-up conversation. "so, how are you boys feeling tonight? enjoying the party?"

"we are," hinata answers before anyone can stop him from accepting the invitation for questions. "we were just talking about our plans for the rest of the evening."

"yep, involving sakusa and the mistletoe. he doesn't want us to say that, though," bokuto whispers at the same volume he normally speaks.

"oh? do tell more." her eyes shine like a piranha's and it makes sakusa's stomach turn. "who's the lucky lady? i'd love to get her side of all this, too." a clever batting of her eyelashes toward atsumu has him nearly crawling over the table to answer her.

"you're gonna love this, ma'am. the one sakusa's been after is-"

"this isn't a press event, so i'd advise you enjoy the rest of the festivities. thank you for your time," sakusa informs her flatly, much to the dismay of his teammates. he was never one for interviews, much less team ones, and catching him off-guard at a party was a surefire way of pissing him off. it was a golden opportunity for her, yes, but one more question out of her lipsticked mouth would force him to take a walk. "enjoy the party."

"wait, but-"

"omi? d'you mind walking me to the car real quick? i forgot my chapstick and the cold is making my lips dry." a gentle hand on sakusa's shoulder instantly eases any tension in his body and he hopes you can feel the gratitude radiating from him. it takes him a moment to collect himself enough to stand, curtly excuse himself from the table, and walk with you toward the door. his fingers intertwine with yours as your shoes click across the marble tiles of the hotel lobby, pulling you closer when you step into the winter night. "did you like my little rescue? i've been working on my acting skills," you ask with a small smile once you're finally away from prying eyes and nosy ears.

"i'll make space on the bookshelf for your academy award. and yes, more than you'll ever understand," he exhales, slowing your pace while he waves down the valet to retrieve his car. "i only wish you got there sooner."

"and caused more drama? i would think a volleyball player understands that timing is everything," you tease, brushing a stray curl from his face and running your thumb across his cheekbone. "i can't blame her, though. you do look ridiculously good tonight." his ears become the slightest shade pinker and you can't hide your giggle at his embarrassment. he never was the best with words, nor did he outwardly show a lot of emotion. but, after knowing him for so long, you found that the right words could have him in a puddle before you in less than a few sentences.

"speak for yourself," he counters in a tone low enough to give you goosebumps, ones that weren't from the chilly air. "it's been a struggle to keep my hands to myself for a few hours." his hand snakes across your lower back and grabs you by your waist, closing any remaining space between your bodies. he tracks the way your fingers dig around your bag, how you're conveniently avoiding his eyes just to drive him even more mad. "what're you doing, dove?"

"grabbing my chapstick," you reply nonchalantly, popping off the cap and swiping it across your bottom lip a few times. his eyes burn on your skin and you sneak a glance at his face to find his pupils blown to the size of ornaments. you were really testing his resolve tonight. "what, you really think i'd go anywhere without this?"

"no," he admits, eyeing his car as it pulled into the roundabout. "i knew that was bullshit from the moment you walked up to the table. the guys probably knew it, too."

"you think that lady knew it?"

"no way, unless hinata's lips got loose." on instinct, you step into the passenger's side after he opens the door.

"can you imagine the headline? 'stats analyst steals away star hitter during the middle of a holiday interview. dive into the rumors of sakusa's secret relationship!' i'd never hear the end of it," you chuckle once he slides into the driver's seat. with the heater blasted and the seat warmer turned all the way up, you suddenly remember why you're in the car in the first place. "wait, shouldn't we go back inside?"

"why should we?" a dangerous glint appears in your boyfriend's eyes and you're thankful for the darkness that hid your warming face. "i've got all i need right here." with one more glance to make sure all the windows were rolled up, he finally leans over and presses his lips to yours. with a sigh, you let his hand wander over your leg, lightly stopping its trajectory with a hum when it creeps closer to your inner thigh. "too much? we can go back in if you don't wanna bail yet."

"no, i'm okay. i know you're ready to go, too," you murmur. even before you were officially in a relationship, there existed a silent understanding that, when one of you got tired of socializing, the other would be their excuse to leave. "tell the boys we got food poisoning from shrimp cocktail."

"neither of us ate the shrimp cocktail."

"who's gonna know? don't you wanna go home?" the jerk of the key in the ignition is the answer you receive, followed by the engine roaring to life. "i'll consider that a yes. it's a shame i have to hang up this outfit early, though. i do like it a lot." you unsuccessfully attempt to fake a frown, pulling at the expensive fabric of your party clothes. it was half the truth, but the other half of the truth stayed unspoken while his hand laid itself back on your thigh as he left the hotel in the dust.

"don't worry," he mutters without taking his eyes of the road. "i'll help you take it off."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[messrsrarchives]

last sunday i was feeling very melancholic and had spent the night on call with my nan for hourssss talking about my transition. she stayed up with me for hours, we spoke about everything from my childhood signs, to my discovery, to my exploration and starting hormones etc etc, we spoke about everything.

but really it felt a bit like a funeral, that's how she described it. she said it felt like a eulogy of what it could have been because that entire phone call started with me saying i need to Stop. she got a random message from me asking if she'd be by my side if i detransitioned, so she called me and we spoke about so many things i hadn't told her before - all of the harrassments, the comments, the friendships that ended that i've pretended haven't for years. literally everything from the stabbing attempt last year to the friend that blocked me when i posted about my first day on T.

literally my entire life in this one phone call and she ended it with "just give it one more day". there's a small dent in the wall from my phone now because,,, what an infuriating reply, right? one more day. one more day??? no, i need to make a choice now? i'm so tired of waiting for things to make sense, i did that for years and then it Did and then it all fell to pieces because even One More Day is one more than they want me to have.

and then the next afternoon i set off to go to my seminar, and i'm walking along listening to a voice note i recorded over and over and over. one to be sent to my friends so that i don't have to type it. one that said it will take a while until i look like "myself" again, and i know this makes no sense to them and i'm glad it doesn't, but that they need to stop calling me robyn. a voice note, because it's easier to say my deadname than to see it written down. i don't know, it feels more official in letters. like maybe if i hear it enough it will blend in with every other sound. and i'm listening to this over and over in the hopes that i can build up the courage to send it.

and i step onto the bridge towards class, not looking where i'm going and i walk straightttt into someone and i'm all apologetic and i'm crying from the voice note and i'm a wreck but i walked into someone else who was typing on their phone

and there's a lil trans sticker on the back of it. and i've never seen this person before ever but they adjusted my tote bag on my shoulder because i was still apologising profusely and i said "i'm sorry" and they said "me too"

and i know we were talking about the crash. i know it's not what they meant because that's not what we were talking about but. idk. it's dumb and there's probably something poetic about us stepping onto the bridge at the same time and managing to bump right into each other but all i know is that they had a trans flag sticker on their phone and they smiled and they said "me too" and,,, idk. rambling.

but sometimes it really is just one more day. that's all you need sometimes. and sometimes you have to tell yourself that everyday, and that's okay. because other times you'll literally and physically bump into another trans person and they'll say "me too" for something entirely unrelated, but it makes you feel a little less alone regardless.

anyway, i'm saved in their phone as Robyn now and i think that's pretty cool actually, we're getting lunch together soon

[yjcorefourenjoyer]

Photo evidence part 6

Tim’s life is officially over!

So apparently, the new Robin is not, in fact, fine! He’s dead! Gone! Went BOOM, if you will! And now, without Tim being able to grieve AT ALL for the Robin he had bonded with and probably spent more time with than his actual parents,

Tim had to pick up the pieces of the mess Jason left behind. (He’ll have a breakdown later)

Batman has been going off the rails, beating criminals to near death (they would’ve been dead if he hadn’t called the ambulance), hurting civilians, breaking more laws than ever, pushing everyone away, and letting injuries get worse and worse and worse…

To put it simply, he was killing himself! 

It was like he wasn’t even the same person, especially after Jason’s funeral, and Tim had a front row seat to the destruction.

Some villains thought that Batman being in this state would make it harder to enact their plans and went into hiding. While the others (the more powerful or the idiotic) decided it would be easier! 

Almost all The Cameras either stopped taking photos or would only send pictures about Batman. All of them had horrible content. Just bloody alleyways, or people running away in fear. They were sent in with the hope of Photo evidence doing something about it.

That is what he does, right? Take corrupt people and either blackmail them or report them to the police…

There was no way that he could get the police to arrest Batman, that would do more harm than good. And the only meaningful thing he has against Batman is his identity. Either way, he can’t go after The Batman! Photo evidence doesn’t fight the good guys!

But... Batman isn’t really a good guy now, is he? It’s like Robin took all the good with him when he died. 

And even if he did blackmail Batman, B might just let it happen! He’s already shown that he doesn’t care what happens to himself now that Jason’s gone.

Which is really surprising, considering he has a perfectly good, alive son and friends!! Like, shouldn’t Superman or Nightwing be showing up to try and stop this?

Oh wait that’s right, Nightwing is mad at B for not telling him that Jason died and that he missed the funeral…

Like okay… Tim understands that not being alerted to your brother’s death while you’re in space can make you mad enough that you don’t want to talk with the person who was supposed to tell you that info to the point where you don’t want to be in the same city as them.

And in Superman’s case he stopped B from killing Joker, which probably started this whole “I’m gonna go punch out my anger cuz I can’t kill the guy who murdered my son,” thing.

Superman also probably thinks that he’ll get killed in Gotham for preventing Joker’s death in the first place, whether by Batman or a Metropolis-hating Gothamite who somehow sensed that Superman stopped Joker from dying, and that probably makes him not want to be in Gotham. 

However, that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be helping!!

Seriously, Tim doesn’t understand why out of every. single. person. who actually KNOWS Batman, HE has to be the only one to actually do something.

Aren’t heroes supposed to help? Why does he, a child, have to be the only one who cares? The only one to step up? The only one willing to try and help?

Doesn’t anyone realize if Batman dies on patrol, Gotham is going to go up in flames!?

Oh come on! This was supposed to be his debut! To show the world that he could protect Gotham! But not in a vigilante way… He was supposed to go after the people outside of Gotham. The bats do the actual fighting, not him!

Ok ok, that’s it. He has to plan! Maybe contact a few people before he (or Batman) does something rash… after all he’s The Photo evidence! Timothy Jackson Drake! He doesn’t put himself in danger, that isn’t how a Drake works! So If he’s gonna have to save Batman on his own he’s gonna make sure that it’s the last option before he does.

But like what could he even do?? He can’t just bring back Batman’s hope and light, he can’t just bring Robin back! (Photo evidence blackmails people not resurrect them!), The only way to do that is to have someone become Robin, But the only options for that role are Jason, Dick, or well..… Tim.

And since Jason is dead and Tim really doesn’t want to be stuck in a life that’s gonna kill him (cuz it would kill him eventually), he’s just gonna have to find a way to get Dick back into the Robin role…

Maybe visit him in Blüdhaven? Maybe he could tell him what’s going on with Batman in Gotham? How is he even gonna get there? He honestly has no idea. But if this is the only way to help Bruce, he’ll do it.

He just really hopes that Dick will agree so he doesn’t have to save Batman alone…

[godhandler]

Obeisance to the Arrow - Noritoshi Kamo

#9 : The Lady Kamo  

[could you ever be more than just his wife?]

[tw: noritoshi kamo x reader, arranged marriage, forced marriage, child marriage, mentions of adultery, feminist theory, misogyny, fluff]

#8 : Ice-cream Date

“Wake up, wake up!” Kamo Noritoshi raps his knuckles against your forehead. “Your chambermaid is here to get you dressed up. C’mon–” he’s ripping the blanket away from you, pure torture at 6 am. “– You’re to shadow me today.”

A day before you leave for Jujutsu High. Usually, Noritoshi’s already at the breakfast table by the time you wake up, washing down toast with hard coffee, newspaper spread out on his lap. He sleeps after you too, grumbling about the indignity of a futon and his achy back. After all, he’s the one with any expectations on him. You’re as useful as a flower vase.

“The Lord and Lady Kamo invited us for tea. My grandparents, or rather ours, I suppose, but remember to address them formally.” He fidgets with his thick-fabric kimono. ���... Listen, I know this is not in my rank to ask…”

But it is, you both know that, he’s just being polite. Not only ask for it, but he’s fully entitled to demand it, expect it. That in front of others, you act wifely. Servile, if we want to get accurate. It wouldn’t do for a man, especially in front of other men, to have a wife untrained, off the leash. 

You nod. It’s a request– one of those requests you can’t really say no to. Whenever you and Noritoshi dress up in formal traditionals, it’s Noritoshi who chooses his own kimono, and then you being dressed in whatever compliments his outfit. Right now, as you two walk down the hallways to the meeting-room, your butterfly-patterned obi was tied after he picked that pattern for his own outfit. Not that he’d ever notice something small like that. Not when his life is busy with bigger things, things like– 

“The meeting to decide which sorcerer goes after which curse report. Next is a grade assessment of a couple first year sorcerers, and then after lunch we’ll look to expand our stock of cursed weapons. That’s the broad agenda for the day.” 

“Sounds boring as fuck.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Oh c’mon, there’s no one here. I’ll play nice when we get there, I promise.” 

It’s true. You bow to the ground in front of the clan heads, the venerable Lord and Lady Kamo, your forehead brushing at their toes. The greetings come and go; you pour the tea out for everyone and sit back down, a little behind Noritoshi, womanly elegance and delicacy personified. The prettiest flower vase.

It’d be easier to imagine The Lord Kamo wrapped in open casket funeral attire than the summer-silk shawls overtaking his frail figure. Alive for over 120 years, Noritoshi would tell you later, before he gave up counting. Over 120 years at the seat of power. 

Your hasty marriage makes sense now: Lord Kamo is expected to be dead sooner than later, and the second that he is, Noritoshi would be right there, wiping his grief-stricken tears with one hand and taking reins of the clan with the other. 

Unlike you, his life has changed a lot in one week. It’s as if your union has washed away all illegitimacy from his bastard skin, the confirmed Clan Head to be adored and obeyed. “And hence you take my place for the meetings today,” croaks out his grandfather, clapping a hand on Noritoshi’s shoulder. “The gardens beckon me, it’s right for my season of life.” 

You two have perfected the art of communicating only with your eyes. 

Noritoshi: I’ve got to go with him, make an excuse and come with me or you’ll be stuck with grandma.

You: I’ll catch up with you later, send a servant to look for me. 

Noritoshi: She’s old and ornery, you won’t have a good time here. Come.

You: As I said, you narrow your eyes at him, digging your feet in. Wild dog tugging at her collar. I’ll stay here for a bit. 

A cough; The Lord Kamo and the Lord Kamo-to-be leave together, followed by a retinue of servants. 

“Enjoying life, little one?”- comes her gentle voice. You’ve never seen her before, despite growing up in the Kamo household. Compared to her husband, she looks to be simply old, not disintegrating, late-80’s at best. The kind of grandma they paint in children’s books. Chubby-cheeked, sweater-knitter, cookie-baker. There’s no bite in her words, simply dainty interest. You’re the next her, after all. 

“With your grace, your Ladyship,” you bow to her, waiting for her to tell you not to bother with all these formalities, you’re family after all. It doesn’t come. “Would you require more tea, madam?” Come on, take the hint. 

“Yes, now that I think of it.” So you want to talk in private? The maid leaves to fetch some.  

Teeth part her face, nicotine-stained smile deepens her wrinkles. She drops her act like a theatre curtain. “You’re fucked, girl. The old man’s going to die any day soon, what do you think you’ll do after that? There’s no point going to Jujutsu School if you won’t even get to be there for a week.” When you don’t reply, she nudges you with her tea cup. “You’re not stupid, are you? The second the boy becomes the head he’s gonna want kids, and- ” she snaps a finger at you, “-kids are how they trap you.” 

And even though you know that she’s completely right, you need to defend Noritoshi. “He’s not like that!” You feel like an idiot even saying these words. Of course he is. Maybe not now, but he would be. All of them are. 

Lady Kamo just sighs. “See, women like Miyumi, that blithering weepy fool, they can run away. I’ve told her so many times, I say, ‘divorce that man’, and she says, ‘and go where?’ and I say, ‘anywhere, you knucklehead!’ I admit, I raised a son most terrible, but it’s not like I didn’t want to help her, alright? Who do you think gave her all the pictures of his adultery? Made a whole dossier of it, with printed photos, mind you! She could’ve taken millions in alimony and live on the beach with that useless son of hers, but no, she’d rather stay and mope.” 

She’s completely gone on a tangent, but you don’t stop her, sipping the tea quietly. She probably never gets to talk to people frankly. 

“But us, we don’t get to run away, you understand? Once you’re The Lady Kamo, and that’s not too far off in the future, you’ll forget everything else about you. I believe you can justifiably delay bearing a kid till you’re- how old are you again?”

“15 in a month, my Lady.”

“-ah, not that long then. I had my firstborn at your age.” Genuine panic blooms inside you. It’s as if she’s dunking your head into cold water, waking you up to your reality. “Well, in that case, I tell you this: instead of wasting time on that school, pick up books on politics, economics, history, and culture. Learn logic, negotiation, philosophy. I could arrange a good tutor for you. You’ll be the head of a good third of our society, girl. You’ll be Lady Kamo, so practise for that. That’s not what Miyumi was. She’s useless, that woman. Useless technique, too.”

You’ve never asked Miyumi-san what her jujutsu technique was. It just didn’t cross your mind. You’re suddenly interested in Lady Kamo’s, and so you ask. 

“Fission.” Your jaw hangs open. “Nuclear fission.”

—------

A long time ago, no one understood Kazuko’s powers, not even her. She travelled all over the world, meeting scientists in Soviet, China, France and Britain, trying to decipher the hidden secrets of atomic physics. A new field, at the time. But that was all before the bombings, of course. 

She remembers those flower-patterned poplin dresses that she’d wear, walking down Cambridge, styling it with rabbit-fur caps that she’d shot herself. Then she clad the wedding furisode, even though she can’t remember how exactly it came to fall on her. Then came a child, then another and then another, and in her overflowing happiness of a noble life, she lost track of how time passed long enough that now she’s looking at herself from back in those poplin-dressed days, decades later. The next Lady Kamo. 

Sometimes she wished that things were different. She wished that she could give you better advice. 

The tea-cups lie empty. You walk to the room where Noritoshi is heading a meeting by himself for the first time. Makes sense, you guess, of course the Lady Kamo would be an incredibly powerful sorcerer. She was selected to be so. Powerful women bear powerful heirs. And no such women should be left unleashed, after all. 

You’re beginning to understand why Gojo Satoru is that terrifying: he’s uncontrollably free. He’s everything Kazuko could never be. 

Noritoshi greets you when you enter the meeting-room. Everything has been going well, as you can see. He makes rational judgements, fair yet pleasing: a prince worth the crown. Unlike what you said earlier, it’s actually awfully interesting (you reckon you could do it better than him). You take your seat behind your husband. 

Curses boil resentment in your viscera. 

Bonus: 

“Did you get along with her?” The day done, you two are back in the safety of your bedroom, slumped against the headboard, feet under blanket, watching Gravity Falls. You wanted the Japanese dub, while he (ungrateful, in your opinion, about being allowed bed privileges) whined about ‘preserving authenticity of the original language’. So subtitled it was compromised to be. (“Plus, it’s good to practise your English, you know.”)

He wanted to say that he’ll miss hanging around you once you’re gone tomorrow. That he’s concerned if you’ll be able to do well in school, make friends and grow strong. That he picked the butterfly-print kimono thinking of you. That he’ll have ice-cream stocked for you whenever you come to visit. 

But he couldn’t say all that, so he said: “She’s not the nicest to me, you know. Though I hope she was with you.”

“She’s mean. Rambled. Talked shit about others. I like her a ton.”

Noritoshi doesn’t get it, but eh, who is he to judge? He pats your head. Cute kid. The bed does his back good.

masterlist

a/n: the recent VS fashion show was ass, they're clearly not adapting with the times at all, the pieces were 90s and should've remained there. tacky plastic that looked cheaper than instant ramen. boo on the clothing side, boo on the weakly attempted diversity (one normal sized lady, two heavily botoxed nail thin milfs, one east asian nepo baby and one !black! lady) man fashion has truly moved east cuz god that was disappointing

[starlightkyeom]

all i want for christmas - xmh (the8)

(where you want minghao for secret santa so you can prove he's not really that hard to buy something for.)

pairing: minghao (the8) x gn!reader genre: friends to lovers | fluff rating: sfw (but i still don't want minors interacting) word count: ~1.8k warnings: none, really. this is just fluff and a secret santa exchange. no pronouns used for reader.

a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 14 - secret santa 💕 i'm also counting this as a drabble.

“Are you sure you want to trade for him?” Mingyu asks, eyeing you suspiciously.

“For the last time, yes,” you huff out. 

Are you actually sure? No. But, this plan has to work. Every year you and your whole friend group draw names for Secret Santa. This year, you were really hoping to get Minghao. For a lot of reasons you’re not trying to share with Mingyu. Thankfully, he’s terrible at keeping secrets from you and had instantly whined about getting the hardest friend. He’s relieved you want to trade, even if he’s also a little suspicious. Not suspicious enough to hold onto the most difficult person to buy for, though. 

“Your funeral,” he says with a shrug. “Who’d you have again?” 

“Seulgi,” you remind him.

“Oh that’s so easy. She leaves notes about what she wants everywhere,” he says, satisfaction plain on his face. 

“So does Minghao, if you know where to look,” you add, keeping it a little vague.

“If you so say,” he says.

Mingyu’s not suspicious enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. Literally. Minghao is famous in your friend group for being difficult to buy presents for. Famous for not even pretending to like a present. You wonder how many presents he’s taken back in exchange for something that he wants more. Which does make the whole thing a little more daunting, especially because you’re not supposed to spend over a certain amount. That’s the whole premise of doing a Secret Santa with your friends. It’s so that you don’t have to go broke buying presents because you have a lot of friends. Of course, you’re all older now than when you started as broke university students. Still, it’s nice to hold onto the tradition. 

Now that you’ve switched, you’re nervous. Everything in your plan got you to the point of switching (and kind of how to pull off the perfect gift within your budget). You haven’t considered what he’ll say or what you’re going to say to him. Or if you’re even going to admit what you went through to make sure you had him in the exchange. You know you should just rip the band-aid off. Easier said than done, though.

The reality is that you want to be the one to give Minghao a present for a lot of reasons. You want to be able to get him something he’ll actually like. To show him that you listen to him and you know him. To show him that he’s not actually that bad to buy for, because you can tell it gets to him sometimes. That he thinks he’s just difficult, which he definitely is, but there’s more to him than that. There’s also the biggest reason you wanted to pull his name. That you have a giant crush on him. One you’re shocked he hasn’t picked up on and just as shocked other friends haven’t seemed to pick up on, either. Well, except for Seulgi. Then again, she never misses a beat. It’s useful that she knows, too, since you’re planning to ask her for help in securing the perfect gift. 

(Seulgi comes through, like the actual best friend in the world, with a killer discount on a beautiful designer scarf. Minghao hasn’t eyed that exact one, but you think you know him well enough to know that it’s still something he’ll like. It fits seamlessly into his style and it’s the kind of thing you can easily see him buying for himself. True to her word and the plan, Seulgi set aside several pieces that were returned because the brand had really weird rules about reselling things that left the store. They take returns because of the goodwill with customers, but never resell the items even close to full price.) 

When it comes time to actually exchange gifts, you’re a little nervous again. Didn’t think it through that you do this as a group, so everyone will see what everyone else got. Including the care put into your present for Minghao and the obvious, at least to you, significance. As if sensing your nerves, Seulgi shoots you a warm smile, then directs you to take a couple breaths. 

“I get to open my present first, right?” Soonyoung calls out. He’s already looking through the presents on the table. 

“You go first every year,” Seungcheol points out. 

“Right, so it’s tradition,” Soonyoung agrees. 

“Or maybe someone else could go…” Seungcheol starts. 

“Got it!” Soonyoung calls. 

“Just let him have it,” Seulgi laughs out.

As it turns out, she had him and got him a silly tiger plush and also a ticket to go to a drive through safari experience where they had tigers. Unsurprisingly, it’s a strong start and Soonyoung is thrilled. Seulgi opens her present next and it carries on just as well. It seems that everyone likes their presents, at least so far. Though, someone makes a joke that Minghao hasn’t gotten his yet. You’re still deep in thought and worry when you finally realize that your friends are trying to get your attention. It seems like it’s your turn to go next. Still somewhat lost in thought, you find your present. It’s easier because there aren’t many left and one of them is the one you bought. 

The second you open your present, it’s all you can think about. It’s a beautifully decorated scrapbook, so carefully put together that it almost makes you want to tear up. You start flipping through the pages and it’s like walking through all your favorite memories with your closest friends. The road trips and the sporting events. Concerts and beach days. Bonfires and drunken parties. A complete catalog of your best memories, without you even having to tell whoever made it. Each page is uniquely decorated without it being overdone. As you’re flipping through each page, you notice that there’s one person in more pictures than anyone else. Minghao. Is it that obvious to whoever made this that you have feelings for him? 

“I hope you like it,” Minghao says and he actually sounds nervous.

You look up at him, surprised. “You did this?” 

“Yeah, I realized after I wrapped it that I forgot to include a card,” he admits. 

“This is honestly the best gift I’ve ever gotten, thank you,” you say sincerely.

Seungcheol breaks the moment with a laugh. “Looks like you’re up next, Hao.”

“Right, yeah,” Minghao says. He clears his throat as he stands up. 

It’s a little hard for you to figure out where to look. You’re so enamored with the present you got from Minghao that you want to keep looking through it and appreciating the little details he put in. You find yourself aimlessly running your fingers over the pages. But, you also want to know what he thinks of your present. The real reaction as he opens it. Which does win out as he sits back down with his present on his lap. He’s careful as he unwraps it, almost like he’s preparing for whatever is inside. Over the years, he’s definitely been a little better about reacting to presents. Maybe he’s worried this will be another present like that. You know watching his reaction was absolutely the right choice when his eyes go wide and his mouth opens a little in shock. His fingers run over the fabric carefully before he reaches for the card. The smile when he reads the card is so genuine that your heart melts into a puddle. Maybe it’s more than a crush.

“I don’t know how you did this and stayed under budget, but thank you,” Minghao says with more emotion than you’re expecting. 

“Hey, yeah, that’s a foul! You can’t go over our budget just to get him something he wants,” Mingyu argues. 

“It wasn’t over budget, I sold the scarf. I have the receipt still,” Seulgi says.

“That’s even worse!” Mingyu argues with a pout.

“You’re just mad that someone finally got Minghao the perfect present,” Seungcheol teases. 

“I hate it here,” Mingyu says.

The conversation turns back to the remaining presents. Nobody really seems to have another comment on the moment that passed between you and Minghao over the presents. Neither of you has ever gotten the other for Secret Santa like this and it’s gone much differently than you expected. Instead of feeling nervous, you’re feeling a little hopeful. At least if your present is anything to go off. Minghao’s never put this much effort into a present. Not that you can remember, at least. Maybe, you’re not trying to get ahead of yourself, but maybe he feels a little something more for you as well. 

You’re a pretty disengaged from the conversation, especially once everyone finishes opening their presents and things turn to what movie to watch. Instead, you head into the kitchen to get someone to drink, missing the way Minghao’s eyes follow your movement. A little surprised when he appears in the kitchen with you.

“Thank you again,” he says quietly. It still makes you jump a bit. 

“Oh!” you gasp. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad you liked it. I know it’s kind of simple.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Minghao disagrees. “How did you manage?” 

“I told Seulgi that I had you and roughly what I wanted, so she set aside some returns. Only ones that came back immediately and clearly hadn’t been worn,” you rush out. 

Minghao’s touch on your arm is gentle, instantly calming. “I’m so thankful you got me.” 

“Me too,” you agree. “Well, I didn’t, actually. I traded with Mingyu.” 

“You did?” Minghao asks, seeming surprised but also pleased.

“Yeah, I wanted to get you something,” you say.

“I did, too,” he answers softly. “But, I was lucky enough to just draw your name.”

“Your present was amazing. I meant it, it’s one of the best I’ve ever gotten,” you whisper.

“It’s what you deserve. I know I didn’t spend much,” Minghao starts. 

“No, it’s everything. I can’t imagine how much time you must’ve put into this. I’m not sure anyone’s ever done anything so thoughtful for me,” you assure him, eyes soft on his. 

“You deserve only thoughtful things,” he tells you. 

“You, too,” is all you can say.

“Do you think, well, would it be weird if we got dinner sometime?” he asks and you can’t hide the shock. 

“Let’s go, you two!” Seungcheol calls.

“Like a date?” you ask, unable to believe what you’re hearing.

“Forget it, it’s weird,” he backtracks. When he starts to leave, you grab his arm.

“Yeah, I’d love to, but only if it’s actually a date,” you tell him. If you thought the smile over his present was big, this is infinitely bigger. 

“How about right now?” he presses.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” you agree. 

“Then, let’s go,” he says, hand held out for you.

And you take it. It’s one of the easiest decisions you’ve ever made. You didn’t even have to tell him that you’d been thinking of asking him the same thing. The holidays truly can be so magical.

i hope you liked it! please let me know your thoughts or give it a reblog if you enjoyed it 💕

[vilecemetery]

soc characters as things my sister and I have said:

kaz, approaching wylan: let’s just all beat each other up a little bit

wylan, backing away: no! stay away from me

-

jesper: (hasn’t slept in forty eight hours) I love youuu

wylan: I love you too

jesper: I think I’m drunk

wylan: drunk on exhaustion

-

inej: (rolling her eyes) this would be so much easier if you just didn’t scream

-

jesper: (typing for kaz who is dictating) seriously, “acquiesce”? that’s such a pretentious word

jesper: also I can’t spell it

kaz: *takes phone from him*

-

jesper: ah come on, have you even lived if you haven’t died inside?

-

nina: back on her strawberry matcha girly chaos! why did I say that I hate myself

inej: it’s the strawberry matcha

-

kaz: (laughing at something stupid jesper did) haha this is worth staying alive for

-

(kaz’s phone dies)

kaz: *taking a deep breath* that’s just pissed me off so much

-

jesper: want to steal an orange juice machine?

wylan: (sighing) hey why not

-

jesper: BEEEEEEEZZZZZZZONK

jesper: I love just making random noises sometimes

inej: yeah I noticed that

-

kaz: it’s not my fault that people keep asking me if I’m transgender when they should have been asking me if I was a threat to their lives

-

inej: oh god, here we (trailing off wearily)

kaz: go again (just as wearily)

inej: doesn’t just watching it

kaz: make you feel stuck. like some kind of

inej: trap or something

jesper: ?? do you guys realise you both just contributed to sharing a single sentence ??

-

jesper: *gets punched in the face*

jesper: did you just fucking punch me??

-

nina: guys you have to see this movie called inside man!

inej: well there better be a sequel called outside man

kaz: and a threequel called standing in the doorway indecisively man

(both of them enjoy the movie)

-

matthias: (about someone’s funeral) that’s so sad

nina: (mildly) people die all the time

-

kaz: where is jes when you need him

jesper: here!

kaz: get lost loser

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Hi! Can I request a smut modern aemond comforting reader after a family tragedy and she ask him to help take the pain away by distracting her and he gives her comfort segs with lots of love because reader really needs it. Thank you!

Comfort Zone

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x fem!girlfriend!Reader [Modern AU]

WORDS: 1,175.

WARNINGS: mentions of death/grief, fluffy!Aemond, Daddy kink, female oral receiving, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing, cum play.

A/N - because I'm delving into my Aemond era again, this was a request I couldn't resist!

Death was an intriguing aspect of life. Not a foreign topic, however scarcely brought about in day to day conversation. It was taboo for most people, until faced with.

You had lost your beloved great aunt tragically. An inevitable loss, yet no less profound. She was dear to you, her existence was significant in your life, throughout your childhood to the grown woman you had become now.

Mayhaps, death had ended her own suffering, yet brought about your very own. You wept for her, mourned for her, and grieved with others family and strangers alike that knew of her. Days since the funeral, one constant remained at your sorrowful side, the warmth and relentless comfort of your boyfriend, Aemond. He refused to leave you alone, knowing how remarkable her loss was for you.

Whatever you desired and needed, he would summon in a heartbeat for you. Nonetheless, despite the circumstances, you had grown even more intimate with one another...

“Baby, what's the matter? You've been quiet since I've come..."

It was true: normally you would be a bit more upbeat basking in Aemond's comforting presence. You had no doubt that eventually time would heal your loss. Although, you knew some days would be easier than others, and today proved that. Running some mundane errands, you had come across something that ignited a core memory, a happy one of that, and yet you felt only for a fleeting second, a happiness, before the anguish struct you instantly, catching you off guard, you felt vulnerable and exposed to the elements. Rushing home, you immediately called for Aemond to come and see you, to watch a movie or anything to distract your mind. Without question, Aemond arrived a few solid minutes later, pulling up to your gravel driveway, with a bag full of your favourite snacks and goodies, he knew you would appreciate.

"N-Nothing, babe. I-I just saw something that reminded me of her-"

You had both been laying cosily, snugged together in the warm softness of your bed. Aemond kept an arm tightly wrapped around you, thinking all the distance had been spared, he somehow managed to tug you in closer against him. His other hand, softly brushing aside your loose strands of hair.

“Oh, baby—”

“It’s okay, Aem, really—”

“No, no it’s not. From the moment I came in, I knew you weren’t yourself. Tell me, what can I do.”

Your intrusive thoughts rocked backwards and forwards trying to decide whether the truth was fitting or not. Somewhat ashamed of what you truly desired.

"I-If I'm being honest, Aem... I just need a distraction. I don't want to feel this feeling anymore, I hate it. I-I just wanna feel good again."

The momentary, tense silence that filled the room had ceased, as Aemond nodded to your honest words, merely responding to no coherent sounds other than a "hmm."

Just as you were about to resume the film, adjusting your position to something more comfortable, Aemond swiftly intercepted your movements, lifting you and pinning you down against the plush mattress. His body leaning over your own, the sudden exchange had caught you off-guard yet you did not question him. By the unapologetic look in his hungry eyes, you knew precisely that he understood your needs.

"I think I can make you feel good again, baby. If you'll let me, hmm?"

You spared no exhaustion contemplating an answer, as you rapidly nod in agreement, encouraging his motives.

Guiding himself down, you found yourself in a compromising position: as your bright boyfriend, occupied himself intently, slowly pulling your panties down below, skirt lifted up, as he exposed your eager cunt face to face with his curved smile.

"Angel wants to feel good again, Daddy can make that happen. Daddy only wants what's best for his angel."

Like an ignorant pup, your obedient nods fall flat as your head rests back against the comforting bed, bucking your hips forward, your throbbing folds collide with Aemond's keen, moist lips. His long, ravenous tongue prying you open, as he nestles his head against your cunt, burying his face between.

His mouth suckles on your wetness, guzzling at your velvet folds, with his tongue lapping at your tingling bud. Your helpless moans begin to fill the vicinity of the room, as your hands find themselves tightly gripping and pulling at his strands of hair.

"Gentle, baby, gentle- So eager for me, huh? Angel's been craving for this for a while, my poor baby."

"Mhmm-Y-Yes-"

His occasional bursts to utter filth were not sparing enough in seconds to regain some sense. Your mind flutters back and forth from worldly consciousness, to sheer mindless ecstasy.

"Yes, what, angel? Don't you dare think you can forget your manners, now."

"Y-Yes, Daddy."

He had resumed long enough without uttering a word more, enough to have your folds slicked with your wetness, his mouth completely coated in your glistening mess. By the way he desperately wiped at his mouth, licking your ooze off his fingers, he was enamoured by your taste, like a man devouring his last meal, before removing his clothes with ease.

"On Daddy's lap, angel. Spread your legs for me- That's it, good girl-"

Softly tapping at your thigh, one hand snaked around your flesh, as his palm met with your ass cheek: the other preoccupied with guiding your hips down, planting his aching, hard cock deep inside of you. Your walls clenched tightly around him, engulfing his long length, feeling his tip thrusting viciously against your clit. Engulfing his mass, you swore you could feel the vibrations between your dull throbs in sync with his pulsating cock, sending electric chills down your naked spine.

His warm, blush lips remained latched to your soft skin, as he firmly suckled on the meat of your tit, his teeth nibbling gently against your flesh.

"D-Daddy makes me f-feel s-so good. W-What would I d-do without you?" Your stuttering words echoed closely against his ear, your nails digging and clawing into the pale skin of his lean shoulders and muscular back. You caught a fleeting glimpse of the reddened nail marks etching against his fair skin, before your eyes shut close with lust.

"Angel gets what she deserves- umghf- Been such a good fucking girl, taking care of everyone, but who's taking care of you?"

His muscular chest heaving with every breathless word uttered from his defined lips. Your sweat beaded body bobbing up and down, pressed closely against his own, you had never felt as intimate with him until now.

"D-Daddy takes care of m-me."

"That's right, s-so fucking right-"

For a few, endless nights it seemed and felt like, Aemond remained lovingly by your side. Whatever you desired and needed, he was at your beck and call. His company provided a distraction, although it eased the pain of your loss eventually. The hardship you endured, he endured with you, cementing your love towards one another. He was your comfort zone, however dire the situation may be, you knew you could endure anything, with him by your side.

general taglist - @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1 @aegonslawyer @hightowhxre

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby

@harrypotteranna23-blog

credit for divider - @/itbmojojoejo

[brokenpieces-72]

Old or New?

CoD Gangster AU | Navigation

Note: First off, this is a season 2 essentially, and the files on my phone are highly laggy, so new chapters will take extra time. Second, feel free to ask questions and make requests about this AU, it allows me to get a better idea of the world myself. Third, there is some christmas stuff on the way, just the holidays are crazy sometimes.

TW: Mentions of death, funeral, high emotions and angst, old memories, let me know if I missed any.

“We’re gonna need a new place to lay low.” Price announces. You sigh quietly. Of course, it couldn’t be as simple as going back to how things were. Pissing off one of the biggest and sketchiest names in the city was bound to force some hands. Makarov wouldn't just leave you alone, and with you still recovering, a new hiding place was pretty important. “Something simple, somewhat remote, low key. We’ll still be going in and out of here, but after Y/N got picked up, it’s clear they won’t hesitate to start looking around here. If they just have the single look over that would be enough for me, but we can’t be in here. Gaz you’ll need a new ride as well.”

“Nik’s already sent me some options.” Kyle confirms, tucking his phone away. “So open houses?”

“Even with our names cleared, there’s still the chance someone will say something. Milena’s in real estate, she could easily find us.” Simon says, sounding less hopeful.

“So bumming it for a while?” Johnny suggests. The other options would be asking Alejandro or Farah for cover, but they were in shallow water themselves. You lean back on the couch, the cat hopping down from Simon’s shoulder to the arm rest and over to your lap. You check the time again, to see if you could take another pain killer. Then you remember something.

“I might have an idea.” You say.

“We’re not asking Graves.” Johnny says. You shoot him a look, pressing your lips. He gives you a grin.

“Kay that was mean.” You say, with a few half smiles around you. “But no I have a place.”

“Where?” Price asks, folding his arms.

“…I have a house. Outside of the city, so it’s a bit more remote than you might want but it’s large enough, it’s in my name, there’s some bedrooms in the basement, the plumbing and electricity should still work.” You trailed off, realizing what this would mean. Going back to the house again and this time staying. The rest of the men were quiet. They were considering it. It would be easier than trying to find a place somewhere else in the city. At the very least they could use it while looking for a place within the city. “None of it should be on record.”

“…let’s get to work.” Price says.

Kyle’s new ride wasn’t half bad, a standard vehicle, five seats, and you were riding shot gun giving directions. You take a moment before unbuckling your seatbelt. It's just a house. A house you grew up in. A house you stayed up in. A house you celebrated in. A house you mourned in. You take a deep breath and walk up to the door, ignoring the glances from your friends. You keep your head down, as you step inside. It;s a little cold. You take off your shoes, asking the other’s to do the same, trying to ignore your surroundings, telling them where there are bedrooms, bathrooms, and the kitchen. You ask them to avoid a couple places.

Hearing no protests, you head upstairs towards one of the rooms you didn’t want them to go. You didn’t go to your father’s room, instead you go to your own. The door is shut tight. A room you knew well. You had to confront it. If you don’t you’d just hide again. You were your own person, what was on the otherside wasn't who you were anymore, you'd grown up. You could do this, confront it first hand. Your hand goes on the door knob, gripping it tight.

“Problem?” Price asks, making you jump and whip around. You didn't even hear him come up the stairs.

“N-no. Did you find a room?” You ask, after getting your heart to steady.

“We were going to but something in your fridge growled at us, when we passed." Price says. There shouldn't be any food in the fridge.

“Shit the ice maker.” You hurry past him, to shut it off. You swore you turned it off a long time ago.

Rooms had been sorted, food was being picked up, and Simon was getting the cat, so you took the opportunity to sit outside, in the overgrown backyard, on the swing that still hung from the tree. The same tree you fled to during the waking. The same tree you and your father had picnics under. The same… fuck.

You let your legs sway you forward and back, the rope still holding. You stare at a spot by the trunk, where the roots parted perfectly for you to sit in. The same…it was all the same.

You get up from the swing and took short steps to your favourite spot. You sit down and lean back against the trunk, almost perfectly shaped to fit you, even after all these years. A tiny smile forms. You chuckle shaking your head, at the thought of the tree welcoming you back home. There were a few tears, but you weren’t sure if it was emotions or just your eyes watering. You close them, letting the soft breeze help you relax. You were home. This was okay.

Last time you were here…

The crowd was too much, the people were too much, the black outfit was itchy, and you just wanted your dad to come home. The few small comments about the red scarf around your neck seeming inappropriate were getting to you. Graves was keeping a safe watch over you. You don't know if it was for your benefit or for his as he seemed to hover around you. All you wanted was to ask them all to leave.

Everyone kept coming up to you asking where you would be staying, and offering their condolences, saying how hard it must have been to lose your father so young, how much you reminded them of him, and a couple had said they hoped to see you grow into a remarkable cop like him. Stop. You wanted them to stop. Graves would usher you away anytime he noticed you starting to look uncomfortable or if he saw your ears growing wet. Then he would take you aside, telling you to be brave, wiping your tears.

As soon as Graves had his attention taken away from you, you made your move. Without warning you fled to the backyard, to the tree you’d spent so much time under.

You went there looking for your father, with the pain of knowing he wasn’t there. Your spot under the tree hid you from everyone inside. Finally, you could cry without anyone asking you not to or Graves reminding you to be strong. You tugged your black outfit around you tighter, burying your face in your red scarf. The tears poured down your cheeks, as you kept tugging, trying to feel your father’s arms around you again. You grew light-headed from your grasping breaths, and any words came out as squeaks. You wanted it all to be some dream, to wake up from it all. To find your father next to you in bed, trying to pull you of this nightmare.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair you lost him so soon. You missed him so much, he was all you had and the world took him from you. Monsters took him from you. It wasn’t fair at all. You wanted him to come over and tell you everything was okay. That it was some sick practical joke. But he wasn’t coming, because it was all real. You wanted them all to leave, to go away so you could be alone in the house by yourself. Just two of you together. But it was just you.

Someone sat down next to you, but your head was buried in your arms, and your knees to your chest. At first you didn’t notice anyone, too focused on the horrible. You flinched when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Your head shot up and turned to the new arrival. The hand pulled away from you once you saw who it was.

“Here.” A glass of water was offered to you, by a man in a dark suit. He had a mustache and brown short hair. He was younger, likely a rookie. Another cop, not from the same precinct but you’d seen him before once or twice. When he looked down at you, there wasn’t pity but a sort of understanding. As if you’d come out here for the same reason as him.

You took the glass from him, taking small sips. The water felt good against your sore throat. You mouthed a tiny thank you.

“Alex Keller.” Alex said holding out a hand to shake. You shook it nodding. “You need anything else? Blanket? Some food? …me to fuck off?”

You let out a small laughing noise. Right now you didn’t know what you wanted. You shrugged in response.

“Uh… I um…” you stuttered, your throat filled with so many lumps there was barely any room for words. “I don’t… I don’t know…”

As your sobs returned Alex sat down next to you. “Okay, okay… once you know what you need, I’ll get it for ya.”

You don’t remember how long you and Alex had sat there for, with you just crying, and drinking the water. Alex had gone back inside at one point to refill your glass, and to get you a sweater, since the wind was picking up. When he came back out you overheard him talking to Graves.

“Are they okay?” He asked Alex.

“Graves not now.”

“It's cold out here, they should come inside.”

“They don’t want to be inside. Just leave them be.” Alex said, firm but calm.

Graves sighed. “…some people are asking about them.”

Alex shrugged, “and? Graves they just lost their father.”

“I lost my partner.” Graves reminded him.

“Phil.” Alex said once. There was a pause.

“Stay by them… please.” Graves asked. Alex nodded.

“They need time alone.” Alex stated, before making his way back over to you. Graves went back inside but he’d kept checking on you from the window. Alex handed you the new glass of water, your tears subsided for now.

“So… what do you want?” Alex asked. You finished your sip of water before answering.

“For the pain to leave.” You replied. Alex let out a small sigh.

“I asked your dad that once.” Alex said. “I hurt innocent people, and thought it was the right thing. Lived with that for a long time. Your dad came to me, hearing I was in a bad place. I sat with him in my house and asked him ‘when does the pain leave’. Told me it doesn’t and it shouldn’t. That it’s a sign to try something else.”

“Does it hurt less?” You asked.

“Over time. It becomes like a scar, it sticks with you but it hurts less.” Alex said. Up until that point no one had really given you a proper answer to that question. They just said it would take time, it will all be okay in the end, and your father was in a better place. You wiped at your cheeks and eyes again, using your scarf.

“Do you need a hug?” Alex asked. You nodded and moved closer to him while he put his arms around you. “Let it out. Trust me that will help you.”

Your tears continued falling, but you felt safer with Alex, than inside with Graves. You didn't know it but Alex felt his own heart crack a bit. He may not have been as close to your father, but your father stepped up when others seemed to fall short. When your father came to him, he had screwed up big time. If your father hadn't stepped in, it would have been a much different outcome.

“If you want some more help with the pain, screaming helps.” He suggested.

“Really?”

“Yep…you wanna scream?” Alex offered. You took a deep breath, about to scream. “No! No no!” Alex said quickly stopping you, chuckling. “Let’s not do it here, we don’t want to scare everyone inside.”

“Oh.” You said.

“Why don’t we head back in, get something to eat, and after everyone has left, we can go find somewhere to yell?” Alex offered. You nodded and held his hand as you both walked back inside. Now Alex stuck close to you, with Graves giving you some space to eat in peace. Alex was a comforting presence, and Graves was relieved to see you crack a smile from time to time. Eventually everyone had to leave, but you didn’t get to go with Alex afterward. Graves had insisted for you to stay home. Stay safe. You even asked him about the man you saw at the cemetery, and he told you not to worry about it.

Someone sits down next to you, and you open your eyes. Ghost looks at you, the stray on his shoulder. He looks like a ghetto Pokémon trainer or something with his dark jacket, the skull mask over his mouth and nose, and the cat hopping down to curl up on his lap.

“You doing okay?” He asks. You nod. He knows you’re not. The cat gets some pets.

“How’s the shoulder?” He asks.

“Still sore when I move it.” You tell him. He nods, and you two return to silence again. The winds picks up, making the branches above you, bob up and down. You take a deep breath. Simon takes a deep breath himself. Something about this moment… feels… right. You don’t want to ruin it but you have questions.

“Why did you stop Soap at the door? After you found out I was a cop.” You ask. Simon doesn’t have to think about it, but he takes time to form an answer.

“Soap gets heated when he’s dealing with shit he doesn’t like. I’ve seen the results and I didn’t want to see them again. Not on you.” The last three words he says quickly, as if he’s covering something with them.

“Thank you. For taking me in.” You say.

“That was all Price. Johnny told me about you, and then I told Price. When we were younger, we made a promise to keep you safe.” Ghost says. “How are your wounds?”

“Healing. Still some aches, but not too bad.” You say. You don’t look at each other. As soon as one of you looks at the other, you look at whatever is in a different direction. It’s back to silence again. Awkward silence. Simon was usually quiet though, you assume it’s a preference of his. So you two sit and simply… do nothing. The soft purrs from the stray continue from Simon’s lap. The soft breeze continues to rustle the leaves above. You feel yourself becoming more and more relaxed, and you slowly nod off. As your head starts to drop you feel an arm around your shoulders and a hand gently guiding your body to Simon’s shoulder. You take the last bits of consciousness you have to move a little closer, nestling into him. His fingers play with your hair, and you drift off.

Simon gazes down at you. You felt so safe with him. Then again, you hadn’t seen much of his real work.

Graves goes to your old apartment. Makarov was sending an officer, claiming you were now a missing persons. Phil wasn’t going to let anyone find you before he did. Graves knows you’re somewhere else but he wants to see you again. After sending you back to wherever you’d been with Alex, and seeing your injuries… he’d been struggling to keep his distance, wanting to see you. He made a promise to keep you safe, and screwed up.

Alex was refusing to give Graves anything on your location, as was Farah. The pub was closed for “renovations”. Stepping foot in Los Vaqueros territory was suicide, and bringing an extra officer - even Alex - was a good way to get into a fight. His number was blocked on your cellphone, or just wasn’t working.

Graves is able to get inside with a spare key, and is sure to lock the door behind him. Is this kind of creepy for a grown ass man to wander your apartment when he knows full well you weren’t home? Yeah, plenty creepy. But it was the only lead he had right now. He looked through the living room and kitchen, finding nothing. He does check your fridge to see if anything had gone off in there, and thankfully you’d long since cleared it out. From there he checks your bedroom, and… it looked almost cleared out. A few of your clothes remained, and he recognized them as yours, along with a few photos. He was about to check the bathroom next when there was a knock at the door.

Truth be told he wasn’t supposed to be at your apartment, but technically you weren’t either. He goes to the door and spies through the peep hole. He expects to see an officer, but he sees… what did this bitch want?

Phil opens the door making Milena look up with a bit of surprise.

“Can I help ya ma’am?” He asks, clearly unhappy. Milena just looks a back at him pressing her lips.

“Is Y/N L/N home?” She asks.

“Probably.” He answers. The two stare at each other expectantly.

“May I speak with them?” Milena asks, trying to keep herself composed.

“Don’t know, ya got their number?” Phil says, keeping himself wedged between the door and its frame. No way he was letting Makarov’s little birdie into your place, whether there was anything she could gain or not. Romanova was probably sent here to find dirt for Makarov before some half decent rookie could get any clues. Graves has already gotten rid of most of your existence from the station, but Makarov still had a couple leads.

“Are they here?” Milena asks plainly.

“No.” Graves says, as if it had been obvious. To be fair… kind of was. “Now please, leave.”

“What exactly are you doing in their apartment?” Milena asks quickly, stopping Graves halfway from shutting the door. He returned to the same position looking at Milena.

“The hell is it your business?” Phil asks.

“The land lord of the building is very strict about guests, and I don’t think he would appreciate-“

“Wait wait wait, hold up.” Phil says, chuckling. Was she implying what he thought she was implying? “I have a spare key to this apartment for just about any number of reasons.”

“What exactly is your reason?” Milena says crossing her arms. She gets a small laugh from Graves.

“Ms. Romanova… my relationship with my former partner is my business, and last time I checked you’re not a cop, there is no health assessment scheduled, and no eviction notice. So kindly see yourself out.” Graves says, and with that he slips back into the apartment, locking the door good and tight.

Phil knew what Milena was doing there, and it wasn’t just to see if she could sell the apartment. If it wasn’t to look for you, then it was to monitor him. He waits for a bit, checking your fridge again to see if there was the off chance you had any drinks. Then he checks the pantry, and… carbonated water? He isn’t picky right now. Taking a can he is sure to open it near the door. After that he simply goes to your couch and waits on it. Milena eventually gives up, and he celebrates the fading sound of heels with a sip. It’s room temperature, but… hold up.

Graves checks the can, reading the label. You hate this stuff. He knows he’s in your apartment. No mix up there. Then it hits him, and recent memories come back of him drilling in to you, lecturing you, and then the night you came back all beaten and bruised.

“And what have I done? Nothing! I’m a glorified tagger that’s what you said right?! Fine! Then I’ll be one! You gonna arrest me then?”

What had he done to you? He knew he fucked up in more ways than one but the realization finally hits him in the gut. Throughout the time you’d known each other he was trying to make you in his own way. He was toughening you up and setting restrictions between the two of you. You got the drink for him, not yourself. The few times he’d come to your apartment before the case, you offered one to him, but he was always just there for business. On a few occasions he’d spent time with you but it was always to make sure you didn’t give up on being a cop or as a sort of reward for hard work.

The whole time he’d wanted a student, a cop. Your father wanted you to be safe and he did that, but he had only pushed you away. Put you on some pedestal for him to start sculpting. At what point did you stop trying?

Philip Graves sits in your apartment, drinking and wondering how hard did he fuck up and not realize it. He wasn't your father, but neither were you.

When you wake up, you’re on the couch in the basement, with a blanket and pillow. You groan, trying to figure out where you are and how you got there. It’s almost foreign to you, this world you’ve woken up in. Slowly you sit up and shove the blanket away. Tea, you need tea. You make your way up the stairs, and emerge into a small hallway that leads to the front door on one side and the kitchen and living space to the other. Simon greets you in the kitchen, giving you a nod. You put the kettle on and sit next to him at the island. Without thinking you rest your head against his shoulder. Simon turns his head slightly but doesn’t move. It’s just you two.

It’s odd yet natural, like revisiting an old show. This feeling of domestic bliss between the two of you is something neither of you are used to, but still remember from a long time ago. Right now it’s just the two of you. You’re where you want to be and where you need to be, right here. The kettle continues to boil, the skies are grey outside, and the stray is curled up in a box with her kits. Simon likes this. It’s warm and comforting having you so easily pressed against him. It’s not something he’s used to, nor he engages with on his own. There’s no need for him to oppose you. It brings you closer to him, easily. There is peaceful silence between you and Simon, and neither of you breaks it.

Soap does.

He comes upstairs, and peeks around the door to basement, seeing the two of you. There’s a war going on in his head. Does he bug you, ruin this moment to get your reaction or take a photo and tease you about it later. He takes a photo of the two of you first. Then Kyle comes up behind him.

“Johnny what are you doing?” He says. You and Ghost both hear Kyle and you get up from your seat to get your tea. It’s like you missed your cue, and now you’re hurrying across the stage to meet it. Both you and Simon are pink in the face. You can hear Johnny’s exasperated sigh, missing the opportunity to take the photo.

“Really?” Soap says quietly to Kyle, as if he knew what Soap was doing the whole time. “They were having a moment.”

Kyle ignores him and just nudges Johnny forward, wanting to get some coffee. His statement doesn’t ring for him until he sees it’s only you and Simon in the kitchen. He pauses but then continues with getting coffee.

“Mornin.” Johnny says, annoyed. You return his greeting as you make your tea.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @theotheronedotorg

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 8

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Family death, grief, unexpected complications, lawyers. Summary: A visit to your grandmother's lawyer and the matter of your inheritance make things slightly more complicated. Notes: We're sort of barreling toward the third act of a relatively short soulmate story here, folks! Thank you so much to all of the readers who have stuck with Zach's journey 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

The funeral isn’t long, because your grandmother would have hated people moaning and crying over her being gone, but the time spent with friends and visitors and extended family in the house seems interminable. Zach plays a steady role in keeping things organized and the food flowing, and you make sure that the buffet tables are stocked as people arrive throughout the day with contributions. It seems as though grief finally catches up with your mother after the services have all finished, and she excuses herself early to go up to bed. With your assurance that you can take care of everything, your father joins her, and that leaves you and Zach to host as well as clean up. Thankfully, it does mean that you can make sure your mother is taken care of. Out of habit, she tries to be as little of an inconvenience to the people around her as possible, so it’s good that she’s taking care of herself in a time of need.

The house is spotless when you and Zach go to bed on Thursday night. When you wake up on Friday morning there are plenty of leftovers to eat for breakfast, but your parents aren’t up yet so you leave a note that you’re going out. It’s time to see the lawyer, and handle the final wave of logistics before the weekend comes and you fly back to meet the ship.

“Listen. We can stop by and grab some coffee before we get to the office.” Zach offers, reaching for your hand as he drives. He’s been the one hauling you around and he likes it. Learning your hometown easier this way and he’s figured out he prefers to be the one in control behind the wheel. “What do you say? We can pick her up a chai tea.” She had mentioned she had chai with your grandmother when you scheduled the appointment time on the phone.

“Sure.” His fingers slide through yours in a comforting movement of silent support. “Do you want to go back to the place by the park?”

“They had pretty good coffee.” He agrees, flashing you a grin. He loves a good cup of coffee and he’s been a little homesick for the café on the ship. “I think you would probably love a latte right now.”

“I definitely would. And a croissant breakfast sandwich.” Not that you expect this meeting to be very long, but it’s good to have a fully belly and a clear head for anything involving business.

“You read my mind.” He laughs. “I didn’t want anything in the fridge this morning, as bad as that is to say.”

“Me either.” You hold his hand in your lap while he drives. “Maybe because I know we’ll be eating it for dinner, too. We can skip it for breakfast.”

“Perfectly logical to me.” Things have been quiet, mournful, but that’s to be expected. Darrel had yet to come by to check on your parents today, but maybe that would happen when you are at the lawyer’s office.

The drive doesn’t take long. It doesn’t take long to get to much of anything in this town, but the lawyer’s office is on the edge of things near the city so it’s about as far as you can get without actually going into Tulsa. This is the good side of town. The built up, cared for, manicured side of town. The side of town people actually go to for things other than going home.

“We’re here to see Miss Flores.” You tell the receptionist when you walk in with your small treat of coffees and purse high on your shoulder. The sandwiches had been demolished in the car while they were hot. “We have an appointment for ten o’clock, I know we’re a few minutes early.”

She checks your name against the appointment schedule and smiles as she stands up. "Of course. My condolences." She offers before coming around the desk to usher you through double glass doors. "Miss Flores instructed me to show you into the conference room." She explains. "I will let her know you are here, right away."

“Thank you.” Manners are the best you can do right about now. You’ve never had to go see a lawyer about a loved one’s last wishes before. It’s overwhelming at best and horrifying at worst. Once the receptionist leaves you alone in the conference room, you set down the tray of drinks and plop into a comfortable looking chair. “Maybe we can ask if she has the keys to Gram’s house? I’m still hoping I can show you more than just the outside.”

"Maybe so." He was impressed when told that the locks had been changed. It kept people from being dishonest. Not that he thought you or your parents would be, but other family members might feel entitled to mementos that weren't theirs.

"I hope so." The latte that you ordered very particularly is still hot in the cup holder, but you take that and Zach's coffee out to sit with and maybe start to sip.

“Is there anything you hope she’s left you?” He asks curiously, knowing that you’ve spoken extensively about the memories. Maybe there is something that would symbolize it for you.

"It's a long shot," you admit, sitting back with your latte. "But..." Glancing at Zach feels loaded, so you look down at your hands. "We had talked a few times when I was growing up about her wedding dress. She always said she would do the alterations for me herself, but...I never really knew if I'd ever get married so it hadn't been mentioned for a long time."

“Then I hope she has left it to you.” He hums softly, a smile curving his lips at the thought of you in a wedding dress.

"What's that look for?" Alright, you peeked at his face when he started talking. Just to make sure he wasn't too twisted up about the idea of you thinking about weddings.

“Trying to imagine you in a wedding dress I’ve never seen.” He admits, grinning as he reaches out and takes your hand.

"Yeah?" It might be the happiest thought you've had in a week, and for a moment you let the joy of it wash over you until you remember once more that your grandmother won't be able to see you marry the man beside you — if you ever decide to tie the knot, that is.

He sees the way your eyes cloud over with sorrow, fresh grief as if another notion has hit you. He leans over and presses his lips to yours. “I know, baby, I know.” He murmurs softly. “But she’d still be there.”

"I'm sorry." You have to sniffle back fresh tears, and even though he always says you don't need to be sorry for grieving, you don't want your first reaction to talking about marriage with him to be tears of sadness. "I'm okay. I promise."

“Baby, I know.” He soothes you, rubbing your shoulder. “When we get married, we will make sure that she will be with us.” You have talked about her a lot, she’s an important part of your life, so it’s important to him that you feel her presence on that special day.

"I like the sound of 'when'," you sigh into his chest when he hugs you close, welcoming the warmth and strength of him before you hear a polite knock at the conference room door and the gentle click of a doorknob turning.

Zach doesn’t jump away from you. He does pull back, kissing your hairline again. The lawyer who handled the case seems to understand how special your gram was to you, so he doesn’t feel like it would be a surprise that you need comfort. He turns towards Miss Flores with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind me being here.” He offers. “Emotional support.”

"Of course not." She understands already that the two of you come as a unit. Thankfully this meeting should be full of good news despite the emotional weight. Tanya Flores sets her paperwork down on the desk, gratefully accepts the hot chai when it is offered to her, and pulls her reading glasses out of her pocket. "There is quite a bit of paperwork to get through, as you can see," she pats the stack in front of her. "But hopefully it shouldn't be difficult."

Zach is a little confused by the amount of paperwork, knowing that it shouldn’t be that much just to have a dress and maybe a few baubles, but he doesn’t say anything. “Did she want everyone brought in separately?” He asks.

"Incidentally?" Miss Flores opens the folder on top of the stack and offers a smile. "This is everyone."

Your brow furrows instantly, confusion making you shift closer to Zach in your chair and wondering if it would be terribly immature to sneak a peek at the paperwork in that folder. "I don't understand."

"You are your grandmother's sole heir," the lawyer tells you gently, and she folds her hands over the top of the open folder. "She was very specific about making sure her estate was in good order for whenever it would be passed to you."

Zach freezes before looking over at you in surprise. He has no clue what that might entail, but he shifts slightly in his chair, aware that it is probably substantial. Hell, she owned a house, a gorgeous one. “Wow.” He murmurs.

"But..." Feeling more than a little shocked by that news, you shift in your chair and look quickly between Zach and Miss Flores as if their faces might hold the answer you're looking for. "She had other family. My mother, my aunt. She had two other grandkids. None of them?"

Flores shakes her head, quietly amused that this question had been anticipated. "She felt that the other potential inheritors — her daughters, and your two cousins, specifically — she felt that they were well provided for already and that you would benefit most from what her estate had to offer." When she smiles this time, there is something nostalgic in it. "She confided in me several times that you were her favorite, Bunny. That you reminded her the most of herself."

“If-“ he knows you are struggling with the idea of getting everything, you aren’t a selfish person in the least. “If she wanted to let the cousins, her aunt, mom, have some sentimental items - that’s alright, right?” He asks, sure that if it was, it might make you feel better.

"Yes." She nods in agreement, flipping one more page of the file open. "Once the paperwork is signed, the estate is yours to do with as you see fit, with one notable exception."

"Which is?" You ask, swallowing down the idea of your grandmother having put her entire life in your hands. It's a wonderful, loving gesture. But also a bit overwhelming.

"Her real estate holdings." Miss Flores produces a pen from nowhere and sits back in her seat. "Her will is quite strict about those going to you and you alone."

Zach frowns slightly, knowing that your grandmother knew that you didn’t want to live in Oklahoma. So why would the house go to you. “To sell?” He asks, knowing you might have some conflicting feelings about letting go of a piece of her legacy. “You don’t have to, babe.” He promises you.

"I really don't...I didn't expect this." He knows that. He knows you didn't think that very much would go to you. Some records. A keepsake or two. Her wedding dress is you were very lucky. But the house? That's enormous. "So..." You turn back to Miss Flores and try to gather your thoughts. "The house has to go to me. Does that mean I can never sell it?"

"Not at all. It simply means that she wanted you to be the one to make the decisions and to have the final say. She specifies in the document that she would prefer for you to wait until you are comfortably settled to consider selling anything, but a sale is your prerogative."

"So what does all of this really mean?" It's a lot of information to take in all at once, and you're not sure where to start. "Can I see her will?"

“Your grandmother wished that you would read her letter first.” She pulls out a creamy vellum envelope that has your gram’s familiar loopy script, your name on the outside of it.

A letter. Now that is familiar. That is something you hoped for. That is something you can deal with, as Miss Flores hands over the envelope and you take in the fact that it is very thin indeed.

Bunny, My sweet girl. If you're reading this, I'm very sorry. I can only hope you're happy in your life and that the choices you have made have helped you grow as the wonderful woman I'm very proud to call my granddaughter. Throughout the course of my life, there have been so many ups and downs. I know that has already been the same for you. That you have worked so hard for the life that you love and are proud of. You are a shining light, sweet girl. I know you will make all of us so proud and your family so happy. I wish you had been able to meet your grandfather, Bun. He was a wonderful man, and a clever one. My soulmate always knew exactly what to say and how to support me. From what you've told me of your Zach, they sound very much alike. Well, your grandfather was also smart. He taught me about investments and real estate. He wanted to make sure I would be able to take care of myself after he was gone. That income has been what kept me going these last few decades, and I hope that it will for you, too. Tanya will explain the logistics, sweet girl, but the heart of it is that I love you. That I have always been more proud of you heart and your spunk and your dreams than anyone else I've known. You're going to go as far in this life as you dream, my girl, and I hope that with a little help from your Gram it's not just hard work getting you there, but a little fun too.

I love you. I'm so proud of you. And don't let anyone else's dreams muddy up the beautiful ones that are yours alone.

Love, Gram.

Zach doesn’t look over your shoulder. He’s sure that you will share it with him. Instead, he watches you. Giving you his presence, and you when you choke out a sob and reach for his hand, he’s right there.

He knows how important this goodbye letter is, he’s read them before, been the distributor of a fallen brother’s final words. The peace and simultaneous heartbreak it brings is almost necessary for you. A memento of your gram’s last thought to you that you can reread again and again.

Tanya's instructions were very straightforward. After giving you the letter, she is supposed to present to you the three pieces of real estate holding that now belong to you. From the folder in front of her, she produces two maps and sets them in the middle of the table. "Your grandmother owned three buildings. One is this," she indicates the map on the left. "Her house here in Tulsa. Three bedrooms, two bath, fenced in yard and landscaped patio. I know you know this house very well." She clears her throat softly. "The other two are here," she indicates the map on the right. "A performance venue and nearby townhouse in Brooklyn Heights, New York."

“New York?” Zach doesn’t mean to say that out loud, but it startles him. Had she been planning something?

“When I helped her purchase the properties some years ago, she had very specific intentions,” Tanya explains. “Apparently, this theater and the townhouse used to belong to her late husband’s family. It was a vaudeville theater, then a movie house, and then they had to sell. So they sold the house too, and left the city. The opportunity arose about ten years ago for her to buy both properties, and she wanted them to come back to the family. She has been living off the income as an absentee landlady for a decade, which suited her just fine as she had very few expenses. But…” Next from the folder are floor plans, which she sets out in front of you and Zach. “When she learned that you had found your soulmate and he is a chef, she started researching plans to update the club’s kitchen.” Tanya smiles as the tears of recognition start to form in your eyes. “She was planning on giving you the nightclub to run and the home to raise your family in as a wedding present. But she wrote out her will with specifics just in case she didn’t get to see you married.”

“Holy shit.” Zach is stunned, letting go of your hand to slump back onto his chair in shock. A gift of that magnitude is nearly impossible to imagine. “A dinner club.” He murmurs softly, rubbing a hand over his face as he takes it all in.

“That’s…basically what we’re doing on the ship…” Which your grandmother knew. She was a clever and thoughtful woman. She understood what she was doing when she put all of these pieces together. The puzzle was a complete picture to her. “Oh my god. I don’t…” you gape, stunned into staggering silence. “She—she really left us all of it?”

“Yes she did.” Tanya Flores smiles. “It was her hope that you would establish a club that would fulfill your dreams and spark your creativity.” It was touching how far the grandmother had gone to help you accomplish your dreams. “Right now, there are tenants in the townhouse, but whenever you are ready, we can give them notice since they are month to month.”

“I don’t…” you glance at Zach and frown. “I don’t feel very good about asking people to give up their home.”

Zach can understand that, but he reaches out and covers your hand with his. “Whatever you want to do.” He promises, knowing that it has to be your choice.

"There are a lot of things to consider." A lot of things that will change your entire lives. There are no two ways about that. Your grandmother has rocked that boat with one fell swoop.

"Of course." Tanya agrees. "I understand you're both working on a cruise ship right now. If you like, for the duration of your contracts, my office can work with a real estate agent in Brooklyn to help the couple in the town house relocate. We will make sure they have all the time and help necessary to find a comparable home."

"That would be...it would be much better." The thought of kicking people out of their home would have horrified you just from your own experiences trying to find places to live in the city, but knowing what Zach went through? You would never.

Zach smiles at the palpable relief that is on your face. Thrilled that you don’t have to worry about kicking someone out of the home they are in. “And if they move quickly? You can always have Diana stay in the townhouse.” He suggests.

“She would love that.” But you would never ask the family living there now to leave earlier for that purpose.

Sitting beside Zach, you push out a a long breath and carefully slide the map and floor plan of the townhouse toward the two of you. It’s got four bedrooms, almost as many baths, a little backyard behind the place, and some unexpected underground parking spaces. “Look at this,” you almost laugh in disbelief when you point that detail out to him. “Maybe we could even get a car.” As city dwellers, neither of you had or had needed a car for the last few years. Maybe it would be something to think about for the future.

“Wow.” He snorts. “We would be the taxi service for everyone we know.” He jokes. “And I seem to be pretty good about driving that big ass SUV around.” It wasn’t as big as some of the trucks he had driven in the Marines, but it also rides a hell of a lot better.

"One day." He sounds so excited about it that's actually pretty sweet. "But nothing as big as that SUV." Suddenly, though, you go soft all over. "Unless it's for kids."

“Hmmmm.” Zach doesn’t panic, he has the same soft look in his eyes that you do. “Yeah, kids need room.”

"First thing's first." You reach for his hand again and thread your fingers together, holding it in your lap as you turn back to face Miss Flores. "I'm sure this is more complicated than handing us the keys and sending us on our way?"

“And we need to protect her inheritance.” Zach adds. “Is there - I mean - like a prenup before a prenup?” He asks. “Something to protect her?”

"There are measures that can be taken." Tanya confirms, touched to see your soulmate working tirelessly on your side. "The financial assets of the estate have been placed in a trust to be paid out to you in a monthly stipend. Special withdrawals can be made under certain circumstances, like medical debt or education. We have all the parameters." After a moment, she looks between them with curiosity. "If you're planning on being married soon, I can certainly draw up a prenuptial agreement between you, if you like. I would be happy to help."

You look like a startle doe, eyes wide as you stare at her, but Zach quickly nods. “Yes.” He tells her firmly. “Everything she inherits from her grandmother along with anything bought from money her grandmother left her, remains hers.” He insists, squeezing your hand gently so you don’t protest.

"I don't..." You swallow hard and look over at Zach in surprise. "I don't foresee any circumstance where we would ever get divorced, babe. Isn't a prenup just for...super wealthy people who get married on a whim?"

“It can also be used to shelter one from lawsuits that could affect marital assets.” Miss Flores murmurs and Zach shakes his head. “I know that you don’t see that happening, and I know I don’t want to ever leave your side.” He sighs softly. “I just don’t want there to ever be any question of if I am with you for the right reasons.”

It's a hell of a lot to take in, but when you sort through all the details and the deciding factors, and everything in between, the thing that sticks out is just you and Zach. Forever. And that is a thing you know that you want beyond a shadow of a doubt. "And..if we're never going to get divorced or anything..." You look between the two other people at the table again. "It shouldn't really matter that we ever did one, right? It's just paperwork that we signed and filed away. It shouldn't matter unless something awful happens?"

“I just—” Zach takes both of your hands in his. “I want to make sure that you and everything that you have worked so hard for, everything that your grandmother has worked so hard for, it preserved. For you, for our kids down the line, from everything we could possibly foresee. And everything we can’t.” He sighs. “And I don’t want your parents to ever, for a second, have anything to use against me.”

Your fingers thread together, holding onto him tightly and exhaling longer and deeper than you usually would. “I’m upset about the fact that you’re right,” you admit quietly. “They might try. And I hate that. So…” You nod and lean in to press your forehead to his. “Yeah. We’ll do a prenup. There’s nothing wrong with being safe and protected.”

He knows that you don’t want to, but eventually, they will find out about the fact that he had been homeless. That he had pulled himself up with the generous help of friends doesn’t matter, he would be a gold digger. This would stop that conversation quickly. “Thank you.” He murmurs softly, leaning down and kissing your knuckles.

“But…” A gentle nudge in the right direction seems okay, all things considered. “Now that means you’re gonna have to propose.”

“I know.” He chuckles softly. “I’ve been dragging my feet by soulmate standards.”

“I’ll give you two a few minutes.” Miss Flores had considered it pertinent to be present for the decision of whether or not the paperwork would be necessary. Now that the answer is yes, she excuses herself to her office to begin the drawing-up process. “I’ll return soon.”

“Do you want me to do it now?” Zach asks seriously, frowning at the unromantic nature of proposing in a lawyer’s office. But he would if that’s what you want.

“I want you to ask when you want to.” With a bit of privacy, you shift closer to him in your chair and practically sigh when he puts his arms around you. “I would also be okay if you had never asked and we just stayed together as partners. What do they call that? Common law?” That makes you shrug. “If I’m getting all of Gram’s things…she had some really beautiful rings. And I wanted to wear her dress anyway. We could just…skip the fuss and ask the captain to do it when we get back to the ship?”

“I want you to have a ring.” Zach frowns, shaking his head. “I can afford that at least.”

“Compromise?” You know Zach can be stubborn about his earnings and purchases, and that it comes from a very complicated place, so you hold both of his hands and offer him a smile. “We’ll look through Gram’s jewelry and we’ll go to some of the jewelry shops in town. You decide from those options, if you want to use an heirloom or buy something new. Is that okay? Because I only care that it comes from you.”

“That sounds good.” He agrees, but if it comes down to it, he will buy a ring from you to give as an engagement ring.

“So…we’re getting married, then?” The note of happiness in your voice is muddied with the grief you’ve been feeling and comes out sounding like disbelief.

“Baby…from the second I found out you wore my marks, I’ve thought about marrying you.” He promises softly. “I have saving been every dime I could to buy you a ring.”

“I love you so much.” A quiet promise in a quiet room, with your arms around each other and your heads bowed together. It’s a promise for the future, one that you will happily tie up with his to see what beautiful things will grow.

“I love you too.” He promises. “You know that’s why I want this prenup, right? Not because I’m afraid things won’t work out. I know they are. You’re it for me.”

“I do understand,” you promise him. “I just always think of those things as being for rich people who get married on a whim. You’re being practical, though, and I appreciate that.”

“I love you.” He hums. “Not your money or your property, what you can do for me – you.” He kisses your lips. “And honestly? It sounds like you are now a rich woman.”

“Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves.” Nothing about your Gram or the way she lived said rich, but at least it does enough to break the simmering seriousness in the room when you laugh a little.

“Richer than we are.” He smirks at you. “And she’s given you a wonderful gift.”

“That club is for both of us.” You squeeze him gently, but the look in your eyes is proud. “That’s our very own business. Your own kitchen to run just as you please and cook what you love.”

“I want to contribute to it. To build it with you.” He promises. “Of course I want that. I want to build a life with you. One I couldn’t even imagine a few years ago.”

“We will.” For you, that is a resounding promise. That you’ll do things together. Be a team. And build your future from the ground up.

******

Settling the estate and having things turned over to you isn’t like snapping your fingers. It still has to be signed off by the judge in probate court, but Miss Flores had assured you that it would go quickly. The judge was already aware of your grandmother’s wishes. However, you leave the office with the new keys to her home after signing enough papers to make your hand numb while Zach supported you.

“We’ll have a fair amount of cleaning to do.” With the key in the lock, you open the front door of your grandmother’s house and wish yet again that you were just coming over for lunch instead. “We’ll have to come back and do a full clean out and packing…I guess after the cruise is over?”

“Whenever you want to do it.” Zach promises. “We can go at any pace you want with this.”

“I’d like to not do it at all.” You can recognize that. That you wish hand the house straight back to your grandmother , but it too late now.

“I know babe.” He reaches out and holds your shoulder. “We don’t have to do this right now. We can wait.”

"No, it's okay." If you're honest with yourself, it's a way to feel like she's still here. To spend time in her house and with her things. Even if they legally belong to you now, they're all still hers. "I want to be able to share these memories with you. It helps to miss her less."

���Then I want to hear everything.” He promises as he steps inside with you. “Every little story you want to tell me. Funny, sad, embarrassing, all of it.”

The two of you end up upstairs first, wading through the easier-to-take-account-of items in your grandmother's guest room. There are only a few things there besides furniture, but you discover very quickly that she had used the spare closet as a place to hang her old dresses and boxes of jewelry and shoes — even handbags — that she had not used in some time.

“Wow.” Even though he knows less than zero about fashion, he can tell that you are fascinated by the closets. “Did you used to wear these dresses playing when you were little?”

"I was never allowed to touch these." Each properly stored and preserved in its own dress bag with protective tissue, you're as careful with these dresses as you would be if someone had just handed you a gun. "My grandparents used to go on date nights every single week for their entire marriage, and Granddad loved to dance. She told me stories about him bringing her to all kinds of dances and supper clubs and parties. These were her date clothes."

Zach is in awe, wondering what kind of life – fun that had been. It must have been amazing. Their connection strong and true. It makes him wonder how your mother could be so indifferent to soulmates after witnessing the love that must have been present between your grandparents. “You should wear them.” He decides suddenly.

"Where?" Your eyebrows raise in question when you tilt your head to look at him. "The ship? I don't know if the salt air would be good for them...I tried not to bring anything precious on board just in case."

“No.” He shakes his head quickly, knowing you would be devastated if something were to happen to the dresses. “When – if – we make the idea of a club on land a reality.” He explains. With your grandmother’s planning and generous gift, it was closer to a reality than the daydreaming you had done together when lying in bed on the ship.

"When." You feel as certain of that as you do of him. Of how much you love him and how much of a future you know is in front of you. "It will be when, baby, and we're going to make it exactly what we dreamed of."

“It would be fitting.” He reaches out and picks a dress off the bar to show you the sleek, knee-length cocktail dress in a beautifully vibrant red. “A tribute to her.”

A soft smile pulls at your lips, and you lean into his side as easily as the sun rises. "That's a deal," you decide with a smile. It's nice to smile again and not feel guilty about it. You still ache, but at least it doesn't pull you in two different directions now. "Gram's dresses are a gorgeous tribute to her. It's...well, I always did say I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. This seems like a sweet way to do it."

Zach respectfully puts the dress back very carefully. Grinning because he thinks you will appreciate wearing your grandmother’s dresses.

"I have to remind myself this isn't invading her privacy." You've taken a few boxes down from the shelf toward the top of the closet, and found two of them to be jewelry boxes. One is full of lose photos and mementos. The rest are shoes, handbags, and gloves.

“Do you want me to go make you some tea?” He asks softly, wondering if a few moments alone might be needed. He could also start going through the kitchen supplies to see what could be donated or given away. Something to be helpful.

As always, Zach seems to know exactly what you need even before you do, and you nod gratefully. “You’re a life saver. I’m so damn grateful you’re here, baby.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He promises, giving you a soft smile before he turns and walks carefully out of the bedroom to give you some time with your memories.

It’s not easy. You knew it wouldn’t be. Which is why you sit down at the vanity in the guest room with the box of photos to have a good cry once Zach goes back downstairs. This entire ordeal is overwhelming but at least you have him to support you.

Him, and whoever is behind the ding of your cell phone.

Downstairs, Zach finds the kitchen easily enough. The space is clean and neat, something that he has to appreciate. Not like some of the older generation who hoarded useless things, the counters are clear and he quickly finds the electric tea kettle and dumps out the old water to wash and refill it.

Teacups are lined neatly beside drinking glasses in the cupboards — your grandmother apparently liked sets of things because every dish and glass matches its fellows. Just a simple white with a bold blue stripe, faded with age and a bit cracked in the glaze to show how well used they were. Even the tea is easy to find: a cylinder marked Tea sits beside Coffee on the countertop and smells distinctly of chamomile when he opens the lid. That will be a good choice, completely by accident. Soothing, he thinks, plucking out one papery bag.

Honey is quickly found, and some lemon juice that would take the place of not having any creamer. He opens the fridge and notices that there is a box of leftovers, a stark reminder that this was sudden. A life changed and interrupted before she had planned.

When he comes upstairs again you’re sitting at the vanity with photos spread out around you and your phone in your hands, taking pictures of the pictures and sending them off again.

“Here you go.” Zach had found a small tray and there were some cookies in the panty that were in an open container, apparently one of your gram’s favorites.

“You’re amazing.” When you look up to offer him a smile, your eyes are red and damp again but at least there is a smile with him. “Shane texted to check on me so I’m sending him photos.” When he comes closer you can see the cookies on the tray and even though your chin wobbles a little, the smile stays. “Her favorites,” you murmur, motioning to the cookies. The little jam-filled ones with powdered sugar on top. “I can never, ever remember what they’re called. They’re just Gram’s cookies to me.”

“I thought you would like some.” He sets the tray down on the little dresser next to the bed and sits down beside you, his hand automatically moving to your back. “Shane texted? That’s good. I know he was worried about you.”

“He’s a worry wart. It’s nice to hear from him, though.” You turn your phone to show Zach the texts and pick up the tea — fragrant chamomile, honey, and lemon. It smells like heaven. “He promises they haven’t b destroyed the club while we’ve been away. The guys are enjoying their shore leave.”

“I’m sure they are.” Zach snorts. The rest of the guys are probably out partying, but he knows Shane will be spending every second he can with his soulmate. “How’s Diana?”

“She desperately needed the vacation.” In all the commotion over going home for the funeral, you had missed seeing Diana when she flew out to spend some time in Italy with Shane while the boat was being worked on, and the crew had some leave. “I’m sorry to miss her, and I’m sorry you have to wait to meet her.”

“That’s okay.” Being with you was more important. “We have plenty of time for that.”

His meaning is clear, making your heart clench with gratitude all over again. “I love you, too.”

He loves how you know what he means, even when he’s not specifically saying it. “You should digitize the photos.” He peers over your shoulder at the memories that have been printed out.

“I was thinking about it,” you admit. “Share copies with my parents, and my aunt and cousin. I don’t want to be greedy about this stuff, ya know? Just because she left it to me doesn’t mean I’m going to hoard it.”

“And if, god forbid, something happens, you have other copies so everything isn’t lost.” He frowns slightly, remembering all the memories that are just fading away over time due to his own circumstances.

"That's why I've made backups of all of our photos." Leaning over, you press a kiss to his cheek and then sit back to sip your tea again. "Our phones, my external hard drive, and the cloud. Nothing is going to happen to our memories, babe."

“We have a lot of them.” He smiles. “Even though it hasn’t been a long time, really.” It feels like it has, but it’s not. He just feels safe for the first time in forever.

"One day my Zach box will be just as full as this one is." You promise him. The box full of your grandmother's miscellaneous memories seems to be tied together by two recurring friends in the photos. Just like you have a box full of keepsakes and memories involving Zach, your Gram had a memory box for her best friends.

“You’ll have more than just me.” He promises. “The guys, hey!” He lights up. “You think they would want to move back to land? Come with you when you decide to launch the club?” He asks. “They work so well with you.”

"I honestly can't picture doing it with any other band." The thought had never even occurred to you. In your mind, it was always you and your boys on the stage with Zach's food being served. Shane, Keo, Rick, and Cliff are a package deal that you would hate to be without.

“I thought you might feel that way.” He leans in to press his lips to your forehead. “Want me to give you a bit of space again?” He asks softly, “I’ve gotten rid of anything spoiled, but I was thinking about boxing up the foods to donate? What do you think?”

"I think that sounds like a smart idea, but not because I want to be apart from you." For your part, you kiss his cheek like he does your forehead. Soothing measures of comfort for both of you. "I was just thinking that this place doesn't deserve to be all boxed up, but at the same time? It'll be such a great home for another family one day."

“Perhaps you keep it, have a place to visit when you come to see your parents?” He offers, shrugging slightly.

"Maybe we just don't decide right now?" It's the deciding that seems so daunting. Trying to being responsible and adult and make all of the right choices all at the same time.

That’s the smartest thing right now, making Zach nod. “Miss Flores could look out for things.” He hums softly, remembering the offer.

"That would probably be good. It's not like we could get every little thing squared away in two days anyway." The flight on Sunday can't be put off, you've got to get back to your jobs on the ship. "We've got another month on board and then our contracts are up. Maybe by then we'll have a better idea of how things are going to shake out?"

“Yeah baby…” he reaches out and caresses your back. “And if you need to not renew and I need to, just— let me know.” He tells you. “I can keep working and save up if you need to take care of things here.”

The possibility of having to be long distance for months at a time while he works on the ship and you figure things out here sounds terrible, but you can't deny that it is a possibility. It's just not one you're willing to give too much thought to right now when it makes your chest ache. "We'll figure it out," you promise him. "We'll make it work."

“I know.” He smiles softly at you and sighs. “Well, I’ll be downstairs if you need me. Just yell, okay?” He wants to give you the space you need while being nearby for support.

"I'm not going to yell, babe." You give his hand a squeeze and leave a kiss on his lips before he goes back downstairs, thanking him again for the tray. It is a little easier to go through things and pick through the memories. While you sip your tea you wade through another set of photos and eventually make your way around to the jewelry boxes. Your grandmother had great taste, and to see these pieces again is a rare way to unlock those memories from your childhood when you would be over at her house at the same time she was getting ready for dinners or events or even just going to out to do the shopping.

Downstairs, Zach quickly finds a box to start loading up the non-perishable goods in. Knowing that you wouldn’t have a single objection to him finding a local shelter or food bank to donate them to. Going out into the garage to find a cooler for the items in the freezer and fridge is next, but before he can start that, you are coming down the stairs.

“There’s…um, this is for you.” In your hand is a small-ish package that you found tucked inside your grandmother’s second —larger — jewelry box. It’s tied up in brown paper and string and addressed to Zach via the ship company at the next port city. She had meant to mail it to him, very obviously, but things hadn’t turned out that way.

“For me?” He’s incredibly confused, frowning as he sets the cooker down and takes it from you. “How would she- I mean, why?” He asks you, hoping maybe you had a conversation with your grandmother that could shed some light on this.

"I told her all about you." Is all you can think to say, just as bewildered as he is. "I mean...not all but...about us. About how we met and our date in Crete and..." A softness overtakes your face and you come stand with him at the counter. "She was the first person that I told how much I love you. About...maybe four or five days before I even told you."

“Oh.” Zach seems to melt softly at that confession, a smile curving his lips as he imagines you on the phone with your grandmother gushing about him. “Okay. Why don’t we open it together?” He offers.

“If you want to.” You nod and lean into his side as he carefully unties the twine holding the package together.

There’s a small box inside the paper, making him tilt his head in confusion. Also a square folded up piece of paper underneath it. “Interesting.”

"Note or box first?" You have no idea what your Gram might have been sending to Zach, but considering it was in her jewelry box your best guess is that maybe she felt it right to send him something of your grandfather's. A tie pin, perhaps, or cuff links?

“You choose.” Zach decides, pushing the towards you. “She was your grandmother. And I would do this same thing if she had mailed it to me.”

"Letter first," you decide after a few seconds of staring at both options. "Context seems important."

“Okay.” He pulls the paper up and slowly unfolds it. Your grandmother had amazingly artistic handwriting, the cursive looking like something he would have imagined being written with a quill.

My Darling Zach,

“Darling?” He raises a brow in surprise. And clears his throat to read it aloud. “My darling Zach, I feel like I can call you this since one day soon you will be a member of my family. I know this from the way my granddaughter talks about you. Like you’ve hung the moon and stars in the sky.” Zach pauses and smiles at you softly.

"I may have gushed," you admit shamelessly.

“Really?” He winks at you and looks back down at the letter.

“That being said, I have a favor to ask of you, if you would be so kind. In this box, I have several rings that my granddaughter loved to look at when she was a little girl. Always begging me to let her wear them when she played dress up. Consider one of them for her as an engagement ring? It would make an old woman very happy to see the jewelry on her hand that she has so admired as a little girl. Especially when they were also my favorite pieces my own beloved soulmate gifted me with. They are yours to keep, Zach. My gift to you. Give them to her as Christmas or birthday gifts later on if you decide not to use them to propose. I don’t want to hear any argument, young man.”

Zach swallows and looks up at you. “And she signed it, ‘Love, Gram’.” He whispers.

There are tears in both of your eyes, a few drops on your cheeks. It's such a sweet, loving gesture and so exactly like your grandmother to be thinking ahead like this. "Well," you laugh weepily, wiping his cheeks and then your own. "You heard the lady. They're yours now."

“I can’t keep these.” Zach protests, although he’s reaching for the box to open it up. There’s enough room for four ring sets in the little box, but there are only three in use. “Holy…”

"Oh, my..." Trailing off to a sigh, you tear up all over again seeing the jewels shimmering in their little box. They look shiny enough that she must have gone and had them cleaned before boxing them up to send to Zach. "How did she remember...?"

“What do you mean?” There’s a story or stories here behind these rings and he wants to know them. To learn about them, learn more about you.

"I really did used to beg to dress up with these." They are three very different rings, but all equally beautiful in their own right. A yellow gold band is flattened for one, with tiny diamond chips arranged like a sunrise. One is white gold with an array of blue and white sapphires like an Art Deco explosion. And the third is a beautiful opal set in yellow gold with small diamonds all around for embellishment. The opal has a matching band, though you don't remember ever seeing that before. "She actually let me wear the little golden sunrise with my prom dress when I was a senior. The sapphire one...she said that was an birthday gift from my grandpa when she turned forty. And the opal was an anniversary gift."

“She—” Zach is at a complete loss for words, unable to believe that your grandmother would be so generous to a man she has never met. “I don’t know what to say.” He admits quietly, moisture gathering in his eyes. She had accepted him without hesitation, just based on what you had told her.

"She...knew." You tell him quietly, deciding that it's important Zach understand just how thoroughly your grandmother had accepted him. "About what happened to you and your unit. And afterward." When Zach's eyes widen in disbelief, you nod. "She thought it showed your strength of character to come out on the other end of all of it as a good man. I fully agree."

He’s not mad that you shared that with her. Not when she was your confidant growing up. More of a parent than a grandparent when it came to emotional support. “Do you-“ he clears his throat when his voice cracks. “Do you like the idea?” He asks seriously, nodding to the rings.

"Me? I love the idea." Something that ties your past, present, and future together sounds perfect to you and you absolutely won't deny that. "But I don't want to hear a word about paying for them. She gave them to you. They're yours now."

“But—” It goes against everything in him to stop talking, to not protest it, but you literally put your hand over his mouth. Looking into his eyes and silently asking him to please just accept this. Until he gives in, slumping slightly as he relaxes and nods.

"I love you." you remind him gently, moving your hand so that you can kiss him instead. "And she is reaching out to you with her arms wide open, too."

“I love you too.” That will never be a question in his mind. He loves you completely. “Okay. So…” he takes a deep breath. “First impression?” He asks and points to the opal set.

"I want you to pick." That is also important to you, you realize immediately. Although he has zeroed in on the most practical choice. The beautiful opal ring already has a matching band.

“What do you think?” He asks, hoping it would have been your choice. “I like that it has a matching band, but I could also see another ring on the other side.”

"I like that it's pretty but not the most flashy thing in the world," you admit, looking down at the three choices with him. "The sapphires are gorgeous but I think that's more like a cocktail ring. It's big and blingy and I know we would both be more comfortable not being that flashy every single day."

“I wonder if she knew that we would gravitate towards this one?” He muses as he picks up the rings out of the box and examines them more closely.

"Maybe." She was astute, after all. And was always thinking ahead. "I...also like that it's your birthstone." It's just a silly little extra, but it's sweet. Zach's October birthday might never result in gems for gifts for him, but apparently it might for you.

“It is, isn’t it?” He’s surprised to realize that, it’s not something that he’s really thought about in a long time. Normally his birthday has been a lonely day, or recently, working his ass off.

"Yes, it is." He brightens a little and you know instantly that it's the right choice to make. "Does that mean we've picked out my engagement ring?"

“I think so.” Zach hums before he frowns at you. “Although we are missing one key element to all of this.”

"And what would that be?"

He reaches for your hand. “Shouldn’t we find out if it fits?” He asks softly, smiling at you as he shifts out of his seat to kneel down on the tile floor of your grandmother’s kitchen.

Somehow, you didn't expect him to make the thing so official. So formal. So...traditional. The gesture has your breath sticking in your throat and your chest aching, realizing with one unsteady beat of your heart how so many of your happiest memories have happened in this house. It feels only right that this moment should join them.

“I don’t know why, but I feel like she would want this to happen here.” Zach tells you with a grin before he says your full name. “I have been overwhelmed by you from the moment I saw you. I fell in love with you before I ever knew that you were my soulmate. And after finding that out?” He chuckles. “It has only made me wonder how I got so lucky.”

"I'm the lucky one." You're sure of that. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. But the way you both cling to each other's hand makes it clear that you could go back and forth on that question all night. Maybe that makes you even luckier.

He squeezes your hand and licks his lips. “Then I have a simple question for you.” He teases. “Will you marry me? I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you and showing you that love every day.”

"I would marry you right this second." It isn't a surprise. It doesn't need to be. All it needs to be is a beautiful promise, and that is exactly what he is offering you. "I have half a mind to hop in the rental car and make for the Soulmate Chapel in Windrixville."

“If you wanted to, I would.” Zach promises you, moving to slip the larger opal ring on your finger.

The ring fits perfectly, making it feel like the choice was meant to be, and you tug Zach up on his feet to share in a breathless kiss. "Why not?" You can't believe you're saying it, but just like every other important decision you've ever made with or about Zach — it feels undeniably right. "We already signed the prenup. I just won't change my name until after all the inheritance paperwork is finished being approved by the judge."

“Where’s your grandmother’s wedding dress?” Zach asks boldly, grinning at the idea of being impulsive and a little crazy. It’s not like other people don’t get married the day they find out they are soulmates. It’s why chapels like that exist.

"It's in the guest room closet." In amongst the other dresses and baubles and memories was the box with your grandmother's preserved wedding dress that had been diligently cared for over the decades. The fact that Zach is even contemplating agreeing to such a whirlwind, romantic idea is just a testament to the bond you share. "I bet..." Holding onto him, a watery smile spreads across your face like wildfire. "I bet some of grandpa's suits are up there, too. I know she kept a few."

“Do you think I would fit it?” It seems far fetched, but fitting. You both wearing the clothes of your grandparents as you jump into your future. One that she had a hand in pushing forward. She had encouraged you to take the cruise contract in the first place.

"I don't know." You have no sense of proportion for a man you never met, but you like the odds of trying. "Do you want to go find out?"

He looks at the ring that fits perfectly before looking up into your eyes. “Why don’t we?” He asks softly.

"Come on." Instantly, your hand is fully in his and you're sniffling back the happy tears with a grin. "There's only one way to know."

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[yuri-is-online]

Been brainrotting lately and now I present to you what I think is an underused story beat for Yuu. What if “Yuu” isn’t even the prefect’s real name?

Considering that Yuu’s first experience in Twisted Wonderland is waking up in a coffin, wandering around an obviously foreign place, and being questioned by a suspicious man in a crow mask surrounded by people in black hooded robes… I just think most people would not give their real name in such a sketchy situation.

Fast forward to when Yuu is more comfortable with the cast and there is both comedy and angst potential here. On one hand, the reactions to the deception could be pretty funny. (Cue a “woe is me” from Crowley. Of course he can’t find a way home for you when he doesn’t have your real name!) On the other, this could be a great way of exploring the prefect having a crisis. Yuu already lost so much in being taken to Twisted Wonderland, and now in a way even the prefect’s name has been taken.

What do you think?

waking up in a coffin, wandering around an obviously foreign place, and being questioned by a suspicious man in a crow mask surrounded by people in black hooded robes…

Annon, annon, annon, when you put it like that it sounds like Yuu woke up in the middle of a cult ritual of some sort. Which I suppose if you were an edgy Night Raven student idia you might argue that the enrollment ceremony totally is as an excuse not to go

But to be more serious, I have seen a few memes about this concept and I like it a lot σ(￣、￣=) It's a fun character concept, it's not everyday you get a chance to re-invent yourself completely.

That being said, just based off of the few dialogue options Yuu has at the start, I think Yuu is implied to believe that they are dreaming:

Which honestly doesn't make this idea any less valid. If you're dreaming about waking up in the middle of some weird necromancer's rite, why not give him a fake name? It's not meant to be serious anyway. Just go with the flow and hope things don't get too weird (and get offended when your dream doesn't give you magic powers) until it's too late and you realize everyone thinks your name really is that bad joke you made.

If you want to get darker, maybe Yuu really did think they died. A black carriage pulling a coffin really only goes to a funeral, and death has been depicted as an unmanned coach with black horses. Maybe Yuu is only just coming to grips with the fact that they really are alive when they see Riddle overblot and he hurts them. Maybe they now are sitting next to two people who have started to think about them as a friend, a really close one. Maybe they think Yuu is really brave because they charged headlong into danger without a second thought, and won, twice now. Maybe Yuu cries themselves to sleep that night because in a way... you died so yuu could live.

As for reactions, Crowley and the other staff members I think would be the most dramatic, followed by Adeuce and Grim. Jack I can see accepting your reasons and not thinking too hard about it, maybe even respecting your survival instincts, while Epel... well he says he's mad but mostly he's just concerned. He knows what it feels like to have two dueling parts of yourself and trying to find the middle ground. Ortho would be excited, you have a secret identity just like a magical girl/super sentai/anime idol/superhero take your pick really. He certainly doesn't mind getting to know you all over again.

Sebek screams at you for being a threat to Wakasama but it's clear to everyone who actually knows him that he's really just worried about the amount of stress you put on yourself. He would hate for you to have the same issues with self loathing he does. And Malleus? Well he lied to you about who he was because he was worried you would be afraid, even though you didn't know he existed. It would be very petty for him to hold a grudge against you for doing the same.

In general I think this would be something the others would have an easier time understanding as opposed to Yuu's sense of alienation or loneliness at not having magic. Identity issues are common themes in fiction, so I could see them actually seeing it as a problem as opposed to an abstract problem like no government papers (since these kids with one obvious exception don't do taxes.) But it would make for a great way to explore the prefect having a crisis just as you say, in a way it's the perfect example for every problem they might have with being in Twisted Wonderland.

[allbark-no-bite]

cain complex.

damon salvatore x reader (wc: 3.6k)

summary: he was the righteous brother, ever faithful and always gentle. and then there was Damon, dark and volatile with his ravenous Cain complex

warnings: angst, character death

author’s note: please note that this has nothing to do with the actual plot of TVD. this one’s been along time coming. ik people have a lot of mixed feelings about Damon so do with this what you will

————————————————————————

You started going to therapy again, per Ric's request. He hadn't forced you to go of course, he didn't feel that it was his place to tell you what do. Even though he did feel responsible for looking after you and Jeremy, it seemed as though the two of you looked after him just as much, and really it felt weird to enforce anything under the guise of being your parent.

While he did technically assume guardianship and enforced the unavoidable things like school and general safety, he had a tendency to make other things appear as mere suggestions. Such as one am curfews and therapy.

"It's just—I don't know. Just be a normal teenager. Teenagers go to therapy all the time. That's like the thing now," he'd said one morning while rinsing off dishes in the kitchen sink. And while he had been nonchalant about the suggestion, you knew he was really hoping you would take him up on the offer. Maybe Ric was right, it was time to do normal non-vampire teenager things.

—

"You said you're still sleeping at his house?"

His voice sounds contemplative, even a little concerned. "You know that while it's okay to want some alone time to process, it's better to surround yourself with people that you care about and who care about you. Maybe Ric or even one of your friends could stay with you?"

Ric had pulled a few strings at the university and gotten in touch with a friend of Isabel's who was  familiar with the whole supernatural vampire situation. So while he hadn't particularly been taken by surprise by anything you had told him, there are still somethings that you don't know how to explain.

A light, airy laugh leaves your mouth as you wipe the wetness away from your eyes, stalling in hopes that there's a better way to explain that you're not there alone. "Well... there's Damon."

Damon, who without question, took away the worst suffering imaginable from your little brother. Damon, who time and time again, made sure your family was safe. Damon, who fought his way into your life and never left. 

He actually pauses and looks up from his notes. This is the first time that you have seen him look surprised after nearly two weeks of sessions.

"You're staying with Damon?"

—

You feel him even before you see him at the funeral. His presence has always been like that, not quite smothering but certainly there. Alway there. His shoulder brushes yours to formally announce his arrival.

"Hey," he offers lowly, his smooth voice as level and unwavering as ever.

"Hey," you breathe back as you turn, looking up to meet his sharp eyes. They're intensified by a subtle redness around his irises. It is strange to think you had found them unnerving at first. Admittedly, their unnatural blueness was shocking to everyone. They were the eyes of a natural born predator, startling as much as they were cunning.

The crisp black suit hugs his broad shoulders in a presidentially confident manner. It's a noticeable difference as compared to how you are so used to seeing him, untamed and bestial. You're reminded of a wolf in captivity, controlled but only because he has momentarily allowed it.

Damon sighs heavily, like it's the first real breath he's taken in a while. "As someone who did not die when they should have over two hundred years ago, I can't say this ever gets any easier."

"It's not supposed to be easy. You're brothers, Damon."

He snorts, his shiny blue eyes fixed ahead on the casket. "So were Cain and Abel. Need I remind you of how that ended?" His voice comes out dry and ends with his signature humorous lilt that borderlines on insensitive; defiantly not how you would expect one who just lost their brother to sound.

Used to Damon's sarcasm by now, you recognize the bitterness in it. You know that no matter how many fights they had, no matter how much they disagreed, they would always forgive each other in the end. You wouldn't go as far as to say that they loved each other, they had both caused each other too much pain for that, but they were so devoted to keeping the other alive that sometimes the lines blurred. They were loyal like dogs, the Salvatores.

As if to address the silence that has washed over the two of you, he finally says, "We'll get over this."

"I know," you say, staring ahead at the casket.

When you don't look at him, he says it again. "I mean it, (Y/n). We're going to be okay."

Your throat is tight and all you can do is stare ahead as you fight the losing battle of not crying. "I know," you say again, but this time your voice cracks.

Damon sighs. "C'mere," he says, extending his hand out to you and pulling you in under his arm. Suddenly needing his embrace, you give in and turn to wrap your arms around him, your hands sliding under his suit jacket to feel the leanness of his body hidden beneath. You burrow into his chest, trying and failing to muffle your own sobs. With a sigh, Damon rests his chin on the top of your head. He allows you to stand there and just cry for a while, humming so that you can feel the vibrations of his throat.

When your tears stop and you go quiet in his arms, Damon pulls away from you just slightly to push the hair away from your face. Leaning down, he runs his perfectly sculpted nose along your throat, under your jaw, and up your cheek. You can tell by the way he breathes that the kind of respect that you're asking him for is causing him real, physical pain. You are pressed so close that you get the sense he is trying to make this enough.

"He loved you," he whispers, his mouth hot against your cheek. "He loved you so much."

You shut your eyes, fighting back more tears and try to will away the grief that is clawing it's way up your throat. Instead you think about the firm muscle of Damon's arms around you and the raw familiarity of his body on yours. Sure, you had loved Stefan, but Damon was no stranger.

"I loved you too," he murmurs, speaking into your shoulder. "And I know that I'm not Stefan—but god I loved you. I still love you."

I know, you want to say. I know. But you can't quite find the words and Damon doesn't push you to.

He just hugs you like he knows it might be the last time. Because after this you'll need space and time to heal, and he'll give it to you. Unwillingly, but he'll give it to you. You deserved that much.

You want to tell him that you will never learn how to love anyone quite like him. Because he had rearranged your ribs and crawled into you at some point without the intention to stay. But instead you don't say anything because you're not ready yet, don't know if you'll ever be again, and you don't want to make promises that you can't keep.

Regardless of the contradiction to the space that you have asked for, most nights you still find yourself in the Salvatore manor, like a dog waiting for someone who's never going to return home. You know that Ric would rather you home, and you've tried explaining to him your need to be there, but you really don't even understand it yourself. Sometimes you spend days there at a time, lingering between the kitchen, the sofa, and one of the spare bedrooms without much of a routine.

Damon's heavy weight shifts the bed as he eases onto the mattress behind you, having found you in one of the many spare bedrooms after his shower. He is the exception to your lack of routine. He shapes his body around yours with practiced ease. A sigh escapes his nose as he settles in, his nose in your hair, chest pressed to your back. You hug your arms around yourself tighter, as if that could somehow communicate to him that you need to feel his closeness. It does, and his arms encircling your waist tighten. Neither of you say anything for a long time.

He has been quiet for weeks now, uncharacteristically so. Maybe part of it is due to the lack of bristling arguments with Stefan. The two of you have learned to live around each other surprisingly well. Much like two ghosts inhabiting a big empty house. Somehow you keep ending up in the same bed.

You turn to face him, the sheets shuffling as you move. His hand lifts from your waist, hovering to allow you the initiation of any sort of contact. Even before now, he has always kept a big brotherly distance from you; respectful but achingly familiar.

You move your head so that you are both sharing the same pillow, your bodies only separated by a sliver of space in between. Lifting your own hand from beneath the sheets, you grab his wrist and place his palm on your waist. The corners of his mouth vaguely lift into a smile. Your chest feels surprisingly light at the sight of it. Damon has always been breathtakingly handsome.

But he's always been Damon.

His fingertips trail up from your waist. He runs them up and down the ridges of your ribs, the blunt of his nails barely grazing your skin. His heavy hand slips up your body to cradle your cheek, his blue eyes wandering over your face while his thumb caresses your cheekbone. You tilt your chin up towards him so that your noses brush. Damon swallows and his lips part, exhaling softly.

His brow is less tense that you have seen it in a long time. No longer set with that look of insistent worry. You don't mean for him to worry so much about you.

"This doesn't have to be anything more than you want it to be," he murmurs, stopping you before you both edge too close.

Normally anyone would have taken this as some sort of forewarning, a reminder that he is not responsible for whatever follows after. This is Damon after all. All the same, you see it in his eyes that this isn't him warning you. He really means it; whatever you choose, it's fine. He'll be fine.

The reality of his continuous presence has just begun to sink in. It has been in the forefront of your mind that he's been restraining himself, hoping that eventually this transitionary stage will fade into something more. You have never imagined that he would settle for what little you're giving him. It is so uncharacteristic of him, to settle for anything less than everything.

This change that has happened within him, you have been blind to. There was a reason you had fallen for Stefan. He was the righteous brother, ever faithful and always gentle. And then there was Damon, dark and volatile with his ravenous Cain complex. Never would you have described Damon as compromising and steadfast, but here he is, laying beside you, saying that he would be content with nothing more other than to lie next to you and exist in your presence.

You grab his hand with your own, following his fingers as they glide down to your neck. "That's a heavy promise for a man who's going to live forever."

Damon thumbs at the hollow of your throat, but his blue eyes are fixed on your own. "Even if I had a thousand lifetimes, I would spend all but one choosing you."

"And with that one?" you ask, swallowing beneath his touch.

He sighs, still smiling faintly. "I would step back. Give you your happy ending with him." Only the slight twitch of the corner of his mouth gives him away. That was his one tell, that self deprecating look.

"I am happy," you assure him.

"But I'm not Stefan."

You don't say anything for a moment. Instead you prolong your gaze on his face, taking in the undeniable attractiveness of it. Now that you think about it, you can't even pin down the moment where you started allowing yourself to even consider such a thought. At what point had you started to think of him as anything more than a friend?

"No, you're not."

He swallows, and for the first time tonight, the look in his eyes is hurt. "And that's it? It's just always going to be Stefan?"

You want to be able to tell him that you're moving on, it's just that it still feels like you're hurting all of the time. "I don't know. Maybe if I had met you first..."

Damon's eyes look away, like he's taking a moment to compose himself, before he sighs. "Right... right."

*four years ago*

"New OR–LINS."

"New Orleenz."

"No!" you exclaim, your chest squeezing tight due to lack of air it's getting from laughing and the intensity of his million watt smile.

Damon grins lazily, his pearly white teeth on display again. "I'm telling you, my parents are from the south. It's New Orleens."

The action only seems to make your chest tighter. You feel slightly dizzy from a combination of the champagne and electric nerves. All you can seem do is laugh at the earnesty in his voice and hope he blames your flushed cheeks on the alcohol.

Damon Salvatore. The mystery man of Mystic Falls. He's got a front page picture face with all of the amenities: unsettling, crystal blue eyes, jet black hair, and a wicked smile. The same smile that is currently rendering you speechless.

"You're staring."

Quickly, you tear your eyes away from his face. You glance to his nearly empty glass of whiskey and then back to his now smirking face. "Sorry," you reply, embarrassed at having been caught staring. You were a grown woman, not some teenage girl fawning over an older guy. And he was older, you just couldn't put your finger on how much older.

Damon just grins wryly, his pink lips pressed together to conceal most of his smile. He hums, sitting back on the bar stool. "It's okay. You're not the only one."

You glance over your shoulder and make eye contact with Matt. He stares back at you with that signature worried expression on his face. You sigh and turn back towards the bar, acting as though you didn't just see him.

You haven't talked for most of the night and it's looking like it might be better if you kept it that way. You'd fought again over his parents. It wasn't his fault. None of it was. He was Matt, your best friend since elementary school for god's sake. Matt, who was caring and loving and honest and too good to you.

You focus on the little bit of champagne left in your glass. You can feel the burn of Damon's eyes on you.

"Hey, I get it. It's okay," he assures you. His hand settles on your knee under the bar. It's not nearly as warm as you were expecting it to be but it still makes your skin feel hot.

You sigh, unable to look at him and staring to realize that what you're doing is ridiculous. You had a boyfriend. It was wrong for you to be sitting here, talking with a random man and letting him but you drinks. Even if he was gorgeous.

You want to ask him if he has a girlfriend because maybe that would make this whole thing a little bit easier to take. Then you could just get up and walk away. But you can't bring yourself to even look him, much less say anything to his face. Maybe you don't even want to know. Him being single would make this whole thing worse. It would put the ball back in your field.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, leaning in. This time his hand travels further up your knee. His cologne is overwhelming in the sense that if you don't get away from him, you'll do something irrational.

"Excuse me," you manage, jumping up from your seat and tipping the stool as you go. You don't wait to see if it falls because you can't risk looking back at his face.

Your feet carry you in the direction of Caroline and Bonnie, brushing directly past Matt, who you try not to look at. Thankfully he doesn't try to stop you. When you reach your friends, Caroline turns towards you smiling, but it grows smaller as she takes in your look of urgency.

"Hey!— What's wrong? Is everything okay?" Her hand finds your elbow, the worry on her face evident.

You place your hand on top of hers. "Really, it's nothing. I'm fine. Just some random guy at the bar," you reassure her, feeling your heat rate as it begins to settle.

A look of gentle understanding crosses her face and she gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. "Things are going to work out between you and Matt. I know they will. Okay?"

You swallow and try not to let her see the doubt on your own face. "I know. Thanks, Care."

This time she breaks out into a real smile, grabbing your hand. "Now come on! Let's dance!"

You allow her to drag out onto the middle of the floor in the grill, meeting up with Bonnie. It's easy to let your worries go for even just a little while when you're with them. It's a Friday night and you're with your best friends and there's absolutely nothing to worry about. It's kinda of like what they say, nothing bad ever happens in Mystic Falls.

"I'm going to take it as a compliment that you're talking to everyone here but me."

The voice coming from behind you makes you jump. You hadn't even heard his footsteps coming up behind you. It was like he had appeared out of thin air. You could have sworn he wasn't there a moment ago.

You'd stepped out of the backdoor of The Grill for a moment, needing some fresh air. More like needing to get away from Matt's wounded puppy dog eyes, but air all the same. You had nearly all but forgotten the handsome stranger at the bar until now.

Damon approaches you, his hands hidden in the pockets of his black leather jacket. He looks no less confident than he did earlier at the bar, that easy smile still on his lips, charming blue eyes shining in the moonlight.

"You gotta be careful. They say there are vampires around here."

For once you allow your shoulders to relax, and you let out a sigh. "Hey. I'm sorry," you begin, shaking your head. "I'm having a rough night. It's just that I'm probably about to break up with my boyfriend except I'm not supposed to break up with him because he's perfect. But then he starts talking about getting married and I'm not ready to get married. I'm barley nineteen—"

Damon just stands there, listening quietly to your rant and watching you with curious eyes. That's all you've wanted for past week. Just someone to listen without trying to convince you that Matt was the perfect guy.

Even when your rant ends, Damon remains quiet. He sucks on his pearly teeth before replying. "Sometimes just because he's the perfect guy doesn't mean he's the right guy. You can take it from me when I say I don't regret not being the perfect guy." His face pinches briefly into something that looks like hurt as he says, "It's no fun anyway."

Admittedly, you kind of laugh at his revelation. "Because you would know all about that. Have you looked in a mirror lately, Damon? In what world are you not perfect?"

His mouth twitches up but he doesn't really make the effort to smile. "You'd be surprised."

You swallow, watching him as he walks a bit closer. "What do you mean?"

"Do you have any idea what it's like to no longer be human?" Your brows furrow but Damon cuts you off before you can answer. "You don't. It's terrible. I hate it. I hate it more than anything in the world. But what I hate even more is that you're going to have to forget about me."

His hand cups your cheek and you know you need to step back, you need to get away from him, but your legs are frozen and you can't move. Your heart is back to pounding in your chest like it was earlier. You want to scream. For anyone, for Matt, but Damon's hand is cupping your jaw and he could shut you up the second you opened your mouth.

His blue eyes are staring directly into yours. They're just as unsettling as they were when he caught your eye at the bar earlier. What is possibly even more terrifying is that you can't look away.

And then he's just... gone.

Your heart is still thumping in your chest, but when you look around, there's no one there.

Had you been talking to someone?

*present day*

There's something that he's not telling you, but you won't push him to, not right now. Right now it's good to just lay with him and know that you're both here and that he's not going anywhere.

He could tell you. He could be selfish and tell you that he did meet you first. That you were never Stefan's to begin with.

But that's the thing about being Cain. He will always be his brother's keeper.

[azelmaandeponine]

I saw a interpretation of Filbrick that is kind strange and I want your opinion:

"I consider him a man of extreme tough love and concerned with making money in order to provide for his family, and those are thoughts I subscribe to as canon interpretation as well.

I don’t view him as abusive like a majority of the fandom seems to from what I’ve perused on him.

At least he’s not intentionally.

His actions in some instances can be viewed as such especially from a modern light, but they’re never from a place of maliciousness or hate. They come from a place of love and worry, in a time where being emotionally vulnerable (having heart to hearts and being frank with feelings) for a man is not only looked down upon, but can be detrimental to overall success and survival. So he’s ’not easily impressed’ and closed off. Gets angry when something valued gets lost rather than being sad or hurt by it because it’s easier and safer. (there’s a reason why he never got rid of the ‘#1 Dad’ marking on his pendant that Stan had given him - that hit him where it counted and he cherished it).

Tough love was an extreme back then, and making your kid stand outside for two days holding a sign saying 'extra stan 2$' is certainly not the best way to go about motivating your son to do better in school Filbrick.

Has a very ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ mentality because he knows no one else in the world will give exception to his sons having a heart and being sensitive. He’s the only one who they can afford to make mistakes with and learn from before the world gets its claws in them. He’s very loyal and doesn’t take kindly to people trying to harm his family… even said family. (why he insisted on boxing lessons, is part of a holy mackerel brotherhood, and why he even reacted as he did when learning about Stan and the project - he honestly believed that Stan had betrayed the family and sabotaged his brother because Stan has always been known for lying even as a kid [aka the pendent incident], it was an assumption that Ford didn’t correct him on and probably could have changed the whole outcome of if he hadn’t been devastated with the same feelings of betrayal).

Throwing Stan out in canon while in anger, was awful, I won't forgive that, but it did happen a lot back then especially at 17-18 when kids were both 'considered' or officially adults, and could go off on their own. You can still see that kinda thought process even nowadays in older folks to prevent 'mooching' or 'being a bum'.

I personally believe he’s just a man of his time and of his circumstances. Can come across heartless but does have a huge one just hidden away. I like to think he didn’t go to Stan’s ‘funeral’ because he still felt betrayed, yes (how could his kid do that to his own brother and force them to live in poverty and slog through life like that out of jealousy?), but that he didn’t go because he just couldn’t handle it. He would’ve been too broken and vulnerable about it. Or that… maybe he was dead by that time.

There’s literally no way anyone can convince me that Filbrick didn’t sit alone staring at that ‘#1 Dad’ pendant in the dark of his room without tears on his face.

Unless you’re Alex Hirsch, then I beg you not to break my heart like that lol"

What do you think?

I'm sorry, they lost me at "I don't view him as abusive". It's literally canon he is.

As for the rest...does this person know abusers can be multifaceted? That there are usually calmer moments in the abuse? Cause I don't think they know that.

All in all, it seems like this person doesn't know much about abuse, and can't fathom that a parent could be horrifically abusive to their kids because he was shown being fond of a gift one of his kids gave him.

[gravityfallsrenaissance]

On the first day of his last year of high school, Soos finds out that no one in Gravity Falls, Oregon is a foster parent.

He’s sitting in the hallway of the hospital with a police officer and social worker as they explain to him that even though he’s 17, he has no legal parent or guardian. It’s the day he find out his Dad terminated his parental rights.

They tell him that the nearest set of registered foster parents is about a 3 hour drive away, which doesn’t give him much time to pack.

While he’s packing up his things at the house, their landline starts ringing. Soos goes to answer it and is met with gruff spanish he doesn’t hear very often.

“Hola señora, ¿cómo está Soos? No lo he visto y sé que es su primer día de regreso a la escuela. Le dije que no había trabajo la primera semana, pero por lo general viene para al menos contarme cómo le fue y solo quería asegurarme de que estaba bien.”

Soos stands speechless for a moment. He’s unable to get the words out in Spanish.

“Hi Mr. Pines, um, I won’t be able to come into work anymore.”

“Soos? Kid, are you alright?”

“Abuela passed away this morning. It turns out there aren’t any foster parents in town, and the nearest couple is 3 hours away, so I’m glad you called because I wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to come back to work. The social worker is having me pick up my things right now, I don’t know if they’ll let us drive past the Shack so I can-“

“Soos, I need you to pass the phone to the social worker for me.”

He does, and before he realizes what’s happening, Soos is being packed into the car and driving down familiar roads. Mr. Pines must have convinced them that Soos wanted to say goodbye and when the arrive he’s shocked to see him sitting on the front porch in clothes that aren’t the Mr. Mystery costume or his weekend tank top and boxers. He’s dressed in slacks and a clean dress shirt with no embellishments. He looks like he shaved.

Soos leaves his bag in the car to say goodbye and is surprised when the social worker grabs it for him.

“Mr. Pines, thank you for offer of temporary guardianship as we sort out Jesus’s situation. It’ll be easier for him to stay close for the funeral and in making decisions about his grandmother’s estate.”

Mr. Pines has an expression Soos has never seen and can’t figure out. The man is always smiling or grumbling and now he’s just nodding and offering his hand to the social worker before turning to Soos.

“Hey, Soos. Why don’t you take your bag and go get set up? I cleaned out the room on the first floor for you, I’ll be right in.”

***

Soos had been in this part of the Shack many times over the years, usually to work on homework with Mr. Pines after work or to eat tamales that his Abuela had asked him to send along.

He finds the room Mr. Pines was talking about and sees that everything looks like it’s been hastily cleaned and stored away. The room itself looks the same with a bed, dresser, closet, rug, and desk all freshly, if haphazardly, wiped down.

He sets down his bag and sits on the bed, unsure if he should unpack. Unsure how long he’s staying.

An indeterminate amount of time later, he notices Mr. Pines standing in the doorway and must startle, because Mr. Pines raises his hands a little looking sheepish.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, kid. Sorry.”

He continues to stand a bit oddly in the doorway before sighing, grabbing the desk chair, and pulling it so that he’s facing Soos.

“Look, there are a couple of things you and I should talk about, and I know this is all going a bit fast, so once I let you know what’s going on I’ll try and slow it down a bit. Do you have any questions?”

“Er, how long am I staying here?”

“Well, see, we kind of need to figure that one out together. I got you placed in my custody temporarily since I told them I’m a friend of the family, and it’ll take a while to sort out the foster parent paper work-“

“But, Mr. Pines, I’m your handyman. I don’t-“

“Kid, if you think I’m letting them ship you off to some yahoos from God knows where before we’ve even had a chance to hold the funeral-“

And Soos swears he didn’t mean to, he’s almost 18 and he hasn’t cried in a long time, but it’s been a long day and it’s really setting in that Mr. Pines is taking him in and that Abuela is dead.

Mr. Pines is next to him quickly and Soos realizes this is the first time he’s been hugged by Mr. Pines that didn’t have some sort of odd excuse to avoid seeming awkward.

When Soos has cried himself out he breathes for a minute and lets himself enjoy the fact that Mr. Pines is hugging him and then pulls back to get a good look at him and wipe his eyes.

Soos’s tear tracks are on Mr. Pines’s shirt and his eyes look a little red, but otherwise he appears to be holding together better than Soos.

“You’re staying with me now, alright? I’ll help you sort out the funeral and moving your stuff over here, and talk to your school. You’re still a kid, and even if you weren’t, I’m not letting you do this by yourself. I’ll need your help though, since I haven’t met any of your other family and I don’t know who I should be trying to get in contact with and all. But we can sort that out tomorrow or the day after.”

“Am I going to school tomorrow?”

“Nah, kid. I’ll call you in until we can get everything figured out. Come on, I should figure out what we’re doing for dinner and then I’ll let you pick something on tv. Or I mean, we can talk if you need…”

Soos shakes his head a bit. He doesn’t know what he’d say. It feels wrong, sitting in this house and doing normal things that he’d otherwise be excited by. He’d always wanted Mr. Pines’s approval, but not at the cost of his Abuela.

And for everything to just keep going made his chest hurt. Mr. Pines was right, all of this felt like it was going too fast because none of it should be happening at all. He should have had years with his Abuela, he should have got to come home and tell her about his first day of senior year and talk her ear off about all the cool new exhibits he and Mr. Pines were putting together.

But that wouldn’t ever happen again.

Mr. Pines put his arm around Soos’s shoulders and led him out into the kitchen.

***

What cut through the misery and strangeness and wrongness of grieving his Abuela were the changes he saw in Mr. Pines.

He was… gentler.

Soos was used to the gruff and sometimes abrasive personality of his employer. Now foster parent. But he did not know the man who woke him up for school in the morning, made breakfast, packed lunch, and cooked dinner. Who called his extended family, helped him pack his Abuela’s house, helped him with homework, and stood next to him on a Tuesday in September as they said goodbye to his Abuela.

The real difference was how much he talked, and what he talked about.

He was just, more open.

If Soos cried, he was there. If he wanted to visit Abuela, Mr. Pines went with. If he needed help with homework, Mr. Pines sat with him until they figured it out.

He asked him about his videogames and anime and manga and anything else Soos was interested in. He offered to show him how to work on his car.

He didn’t really talk about himself much, but now, there were small scraps and interjections about things that Soos had never heard him mention. Observations about the desert, names of people he picked up Spanish from, boxing tips, how he read body language or tone for making a sale. Things that made him seem less like Mr. Mystery and more like Mr. Pines.

It felt like Soos was peaking behind a curtain.

Mr. Pines seemed to have dialed himself back, maybe. Soos wasn’t sure what to call it.

Even when he was fixing things up around the Shack for him there was less gruffness in his requests.

Soos loved it and felt an immense guilt about it.

He knew Mr. Pines was just being kind and that Soos was almost an adult and wouldn’t need this level of kindness since he’d be expected to.

Well.

Actually, he wasn’t sure what would be expected of him when he turned 18.

So one night at dinner, he asked Mr. Pines what would happen when he turned 18.

“You wanna go to college?”

“Not exactly but-“

“You want to keep working here?”

“Well yes but Mr. Pines I meant-“

“Soos, you’re welcome here for as long as you’d like to stay. This is my home and it’s yours as much as you’d like.”

“As much as I’d like?”

Mr. Pines shifted awkwardly in his chair and nodded.

“I didn’t want to assume anything but, the paperwork makes me your legal guardian. I’m responsible for you now, kid. So yeah, my home is yours. I don’t want you to feel like I’m keeping you from your family or anything but, even if I’m only fostering you, you’re part of mine.”

“You want me to be part of your family? For real?”

“Well yeah kid, I didn’t sign all those forms because you’re my employee. I mean you are kinda but like- Soos. Did you think I was only doing this because I wanted you to keep working at the Shack?”

Soos felt his face heat up and started to deny it but Mr. Pines cut him off pretty quick.

“Shit kid, okay look. I was trying not to presume how you feel about any of this. I didn’t want to put words in your mouth or um. Well, look. I was only married in Vegas briefly and I don’t really have my sights on going the whole conventional route of getting married and then, that’s to say, shit. Soos, I’ve always sort of thought of you as my son.”

Soos’s eyes were so wide. Mr. Pines’s face also seemed to heat up a bit and he tried shrugging, as though this wasn’t a big deal. As though it wasn’t something incredibly important to Soos.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, because I’m not really a great father figure and all, but look. When your Abuela was still around I could kid myself that it wasn’t something I wanted, being a parent and all. But now you’re living with me and I can’t help it. You’re a good kid, Soos. I’m not trying to replace anyone but, I guess, I want you to know that this is permanent. If you want it to be.”

Soos felt his eyes well up and Mr. Pines was on his feet, turning their chairs together so he could wrap an arm around him.

“I care about you, kid. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, but it felt like something I should let you decide.”

Soos cried a little and laughed when Mr. Pines ruffled his hair before moving far enough apart to go back to eating, but not all the way across the table from him.

“So, if I wanted to stay here and keep working for you?”

“That’s more than enough for me, kid. I’d love for you to stay, if you want to.”

“And when I’m an adult, does that mean the foster thing-“

“I don’t really know what happens with that exactly. I mean, the social worker told me that I mean, if I wanted to and you agreed, I could file adoption paperwork since your um, well since your Father terminated his parental rights but uh, I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to bring that up.”

Soos felt his eyes tear up again and Mr. Pines gently cuffed him on the back of the head.

“Oh hush kid, c’mon no more tears. I swear no one else in our family is this weepy. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Our family?”

“Well yeah. Crap. I’ve uh, well I’ve got an older brother who’s got kids I should probably introduce you too. Surprise, you’ve got cousins!”

Soos laughed tearily and chanced another hug, which he definitely got.

And of course it hurt, his Abuela was gone and he missed her everyday. But it was nice not being alone.

Google translate spanish below the cut:

Hola señora, ¿cómo está Soos? No lo he visto y sé que es su primer día de regreso a la escuela. Le dije que no había trabajo la primera semana, pero por lo general viene para al menos contarme cómo le fue y solo quería asegurarme de que estaba bien.

Hello ma'am, how is Soos? I haven't seen him and I know it's his first day back in school. I told him there's no working the first week back but he usually stops by to at least tell me how it went and I just wanted to make sure he's okay.

[tobitofunction]

The Pact of ice and fire Part 6

part 1 part 2 part 3 part4 part 5 part 7

"Prince Jacerys is dead" Cregan's words echoed in your head, you watched the snowflakes fall from the skies. Winter, Cregan's dire wolf lay beside you, she returned from wherever she was. Cregan was surprised at her action usually she followed him around but this time Winter ignored her bonded human and lay beside his wife. Her large head was on your lap, your hand disappearing in her fur,"Jealous?" Sarah asked making Cregan look at her,"Winter is ignoring you for the first time" she explained," She must feel her pain, y/n could use Winter's affection more than me" he said looking at his wife with a sympathetic look,"What's in your hand?" Cregan said nodding towards Sarah's hand,"A letter from Queen Rhaenyra, she wants y/n to return to her side at Dragonstone" she said while handing him the page,"She is safer in Winterfell" Cregan stated after he finished reading the letter,"Rhaenyra is our Queen, her word is law Cregan and y/n needs to attend his funeral, she needs to say goodbye" Sarah reasoned making him sigh," I join her than"," She is going on Dragonback most likely-", "Tell servants to pack my and her essentials" Sarah just nodded knowing there is no place to argue.

Cregan slowly walked towards you, Winter lifted her head from your lap and looked at Cregan before returning to rest her head on your lap, "My dear wife, your mother wrote, she is requesting your presence in Dragonstone" he said softly making you turn to him, "I will be joining you" he said taking your hand his, "Thank you".

Cregan stared at Tyraxes while you got her saddle ready, the dragon's head was hung low, sad roars left her throat."Are sure you want to leave my Lord?" Cerwyn asked," I can't leave her in this state, she is my wife, I need to be by her side" he answered,"As you wish but as a friend I am asking you, are you sure you want to ride a dragon?" he smiled,"I'm married to one, it be fine, I trust her skill and I will just ignore the height and just focus on her," he said rubbing his chin, Cerwyn chuckled,"If you die at least you die a legend, the first and last Northmen to ride a dragon, in two ways" he winked making Cregan shove him, "We are ready," you said walking towards the two friends, "So am I," he said, you nodded,"Don't be nervous, she can sense that," you said,"I'm not nervous....okay I am a little bit nervous, but I trust your skills," he said, you smiled softly,"Just hold on tightly," you said as Tyraxes kneeled closer to the ground allowing you to climb on easier, your dragon let out a roar as Cregan climbed behind you, his arms tighten around your waist as Tyraxes straightened her stance,"Ready?" you asked,"Yes" he mumbled, you tugged on the reins signalling for Tyraxes to start flying.

Meanwhile, Cerwyn and Sarah watched from far,"I wish I could paint quickly" Sarah said amused seeing her usual cool and collected brother look like a nervous wreck,"He would kill us" Cerwyn chuckled but nodded in agreement.

The wind whipped in Cregan's face, his fur coat flapped aggressively in the wind behind him, it was colder up here than below his grip tightened on your waist, and he buried his face in your hair. You smiled to yourself feeling him do it, soon however Tryaxes flight steadied, she glided through the clouds like a leave. Cregan loosened his grip on you, he took a sharp breath as he took in his surroundings, the sun peaked through the clouds, and the snow-covered North below him looked like it was drawn.

Tyraxes landed soon in Dragonstone, Cregan frowned as he stepped off the dragon,"It was to quick, it felt like we just left Winterfell" he said grabbing your waist to help you off Tyraxe's,"I know, it's just magical, it never gets old" you smiled looking up at him,"You ruined horse riding and sailing for me" he added making you smile,"Princess Y/N, we welcome you" Ser Erryk said he bowed his head,"Your mother awaits you and your husband" he said,"Thank you Ser Erryk, it brings me joy to see you still alive" you smiled,"I could say the same thing to you my Princess" he said looking down at you softly.

Rhaenyra paced in the main hall waiting for you to arrive, Joffrey and Aegon were clinging to her side, as soon as the door opened the boys let go of their mother and raced towards you, nearly knocking you over as they hugged you,"My sweet brothers, you are well, I'm so glad" you said kneeling down to meet their heights to hug them probably, tears falling down your eyes as you kissed their cheeks." Y/N, my sweet daughter, my oldest" Rhaenyra said gaining your attention, you pulled away from your brothers and hugged your mother, she held you close,"You've grown my girl, you are a woman know" she said cupping your cheek, she looked behind you and saw Cregan,"Lord Cregan, I liked to talk you for taking care of my daughter" she said,"She is my wife, it's my job like it's my job to return you to the throne" he said making Daemon nod,"Than Lord Stark, let's have a meeting on how you will do it" Rhaenyra sighed,"We have funerals Daemon, a war meeting can wait" she said,"Funerals?","Rhaenys died as well, she fought Aegon and Aemond bravely and managed to harm the false king, young Visery's is missing" Coryl said appearing behind you and Cregan,"Why wasn't I told this in the letter of Jace's death", Rhaenyra sighed,"We are sorry but telling you the news about Jace death was our priority" she said making Corly's click his tongue,” You are my heir now Y/N, you are Princess of Dragonstone” she said making you take a deep breath,” It’s an honour to be your heir your Grace” she smiled sadly and kissed your forehead.

You watch Jace and Rhaeny’s remains burn in the tradition of your house. Tyraxe’s head hung low once again, the ashes were poured into caskets and moved to the sea, Cregan’s hand was wrapped around your hand, giving you strength as you felt like collapsing any second as you watched the caskets being thrown into the sea, the prayers being said are falling on deaf ears as you clung to Cregan,” It’s all Aegon’s fault, he is sitting on the throne he doesn’t belong to you, all this blood is because of him” you spat watching the casket sink into the depths of the sea.” He and the greens will be punished for what they did my love” his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb rubbing your chin,” I promised to give your family your thrown back in exchange for your hand in marriage. I always keep my promise” he said kissing you gently,” You warmed my heart, I believed it was frozen but it was just waiting for you thaw it” he said leaning his head forehead against yours,” Thank you Cregan” you said softly against his lips,"I hate to interrupt but I need your husband for a meeting" Daemon interject making you glare ate him," I will see you after" he said leaving with Daemon.

"I will return to Winterfell soon enough, I will gather my men and marsh south once again," Cregan said, you watched through the secret passage, as a child you and your brothers would play hide and seek within these walls, they became tighter throughout the years, as you become bigger, you aren't the small child you were back than. "If you stayed in Winterfell you could have started to march already" Daemon said,"I wanted to support my wife" Cregan responded,"The Princess needs to stay here" Rhaenyra added,"She is a Stark now, she will be needed in the north, a Stark always needs to stay in Winterfell" he reasoned,"No Stark is Winterfell now" Daemon countered,"This an expectation," he said calmly,"She will stay here, she is your wife but she is also know my Heir, she needs to stay close to me," Rhaenyra said slowly becoming emotional,"I can't keep her safe is she is alone in Winterfell" she added, "She be safe in Winterfell" Cregan argued. You shook your head and rushed out of the secret passageway,"Stop trying to make decisions for me" you said barging into the room. Everyone stopped to look at you, "I'm not a child anymore, I'm a dragon rider, I can fight as well, let me help" The three looked at each other before looking back at you,"You are my oldest child, my only daughter, my heir. I can't afford to lose you, I lost too much already, my heart can't take another loss" Rhaenyra explained calmly,"I want to help","I know you do, and I know your capable of helping but the greens will be coming for you","The more reasons to let me help, I don't want to is around and wait to be attacked", Rhaenyra sighed,"If she wants to help, let her" Daemon said taking you by surprise,"Head back to the north, build up your army and come back to fight for the throne" he added, Cregan sighed but he nodded,"It be my greatest pleasure to fight alongside you my dear wife" he said getting up and walking towards you, he kissed your temple, you smiled at Cregan and looked at your mother,"Very well, if you want to fight, I will let you fight".

"Don't go" Aegon said grabbing your wrist, tears pooling in his dark purple eyes making them look even darker,"I will be back soon Egg, you need to stay strong and take care of Mother" You kissed his forehead, his grip is still strong around your wrist as you turn to Joffrey, "The same goes to you Joff, you are the big brother now, take care of Egg","Please take us with you, I can fly on my dragon-", "Mother needs you Joff, your place is here for the moment" you said playing with his curls.

Tyraxe's landed in the middle of the Winterfell castle, "You guys are back" Sarah said walking out of the castles,"Tell the Maesters to send out letters for everyone to prepare themselves to march down south" Cregan said as you got of Tyraxes, "We are getting our dragon queen on her throne"