#and story 2 is shaping up to be much longer than i thought

[fiddles-ifs]

Belated Greenwarden Update and Changes to the Patreon

Hey-o!!! Technically it's still the 30th here, but I'd rather not leave everybody high and dry -- Greenwarden will update tomorrow, August 31st, after I've had some time to edit this month's update.

I've also decided that, since the streams and Deep Lore Q&A have been... unsuccessful, I'm dropping the Director-tier from Patreon until the Alpha build. Operative and Hunter tiers will still be available, as will Bonus Content and voting!

[requiemforthepoets]

hey, are you still there? ⟢ LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: you know yourself that it’s sad that you settled on being a backburner, but you didn’t mind crisping up on lando’s backburner as long as he still think of you.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, unrequited love(?), open ending, insecurities, reader being treated as a backburner, childhood best friends, christmas angst, luisa, typos, and few grammatical errors.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i had always wanted to write this for so long, but i’m not sure how to pen it, but finally, here it is! so far, i’m satisfied. i don’t know much about luisa, but i’m sorry that luisa is kind of villainized in this 🥲 i’m sorry. this is like another christmas one shot, sooo haha i intentionally made it as an open ending bc i want to leave the ending to you, and let me apologize now bc this one shot won’t have a part 2. it just felt right for me to leave it as an open ending and leave the ending up to you. so i hope you’ll enjoy this one!

The glow of the snowy afternoon sun filtered through your apartment windows, casting long, golden shadows across the floor as you sat cross-legged amidst a pile of forgotten keepsakes.

Your plan was simple, really. To declutter, toss out what no longer sparked happiness, and finally reclaim some much-needed space in your small New York apartment. But simplicity soon faded the moment you stumbled upon a memory box that was buried beneath old blankets in the closet. You hadn’t thought about it in years, the worn out wooden edges now slightly faded, but just holding the box again made you feel something deep in your chest.

Sliding the lid of the box open, the faint scent of nostalgia greeted you. There was a mixture of paper and dust that carried you back to another time, another place. Polaroid photographs, ticket stubs, concert tickets, and tiny trinkets spilled out as you began to sift through the box’s contents, fingers brushing against fragments of a life you had once shared with someone who knew you better than anyone. Then you saw it—the camcorder.

It sat nestled at the bottom of the box, its black casing slightly scuffed but still intact, as though it had been waiting for you all these years. The sight of it made your breath catch, fingers hesitant as they wrapped around the familiar shape. A small laugh escaped you, soft and bittersweet, as a wave of memories washed over you.

The camcorder had been a gift from your parents, given to you when you were just a teen. At the time, you had rolled your eyes at the thought of having a camcorder. You were not exactly the type to obsess over gadgets or record everything, but your parents had insisted, saying something along the lines of making memories worth keeping.

You hadn’t even opened the box properly before you had told him about it. Lando had always had a thing for photography, an almost childlike fascination with capturing the world around him. Naturally, he had lit up at the mention of the camcorder. You remembered the way his face had brightened, how he had practically snatched it from your hands when he saw it, excitement radiating from him like it was Christmas morning.

“Trust me,” he said, voice brimming with certainty as he flipped the device open with ease. “This is going to be so much fun, you’ll see.”

And it was.

The camcorder had quickly become his, in everything but name. Lando had used it more than you ever had, his artistic streak shining through in the way he would capture the smallest, most mundane moments and make them feel extraordinary. But what stood out the most was his favorite subject. You.

Every time you hung out, or visited a new place, his focus would inevitably turn to you. At first, you had protested, laughing and batting the camcorder away, but over time, it became a rhythm of sorts. Lando, behind the lens, coaxing your laughter and teasing your smile, and you, rolling your eyes but secretly loving the way he saw you. Through the lens, even the quietest days seemed to feel alive.

You traced a finger along the camcorder’s edges, the faint outline of his fingerprints etched invisibly into its surface. Four years. It had been four years since you had left the UK—four years since you had left him. You told yourself that what you did was for the best, that you needed to grow, chase bigger dreams.

Part of it all was true, but the other part, the one which you didn’t say out loud, was the reason why your chest tightened even now. Was because Lando made you feel too much, and you were not sure you could bear it any longer.

You grabbed your laptop, briefly hesitated over the laptop’s keyboard before finally connecting the camcorder. The familiar chime of recognition echoed through the room as your laptop detected the device, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of nervous anticipation.

It had been years since you last thought about these videos, let alone watched them. As the files began to load, thumbnails filled the screen—tiny, burry windows into the past. You clicked on the first one, and the second is the screen lit up with a younger version of yourself, smiling awkwardly into the lens. Lando’s voice filled the room almost immediately.

“Come on, you can smile better than that!” he teased from behind the camera, chuckling.

Without even realizing it, a small smile tugged at your lips as you watched. The video playing one after another, each one showed a snapshot of your lives back then. There were clips of you on spontaneous trips—forests, city streets, karting, and endless car rides with Lando singing loudly and off-key while you laughed at him.

There were also quieter moments—rainy afternoon when you were sat by your bedroom window, lost in thought, while he filmed you from across the room, calling it aesthetic. Lando captured everything, from the highs to the lows.

The memories felt vivid, almost too vivid, as if you could reach through the screen and relieve those moments. It was the year he had started his Formula 1 career, and the first time you saw him truly chasing his dreams with everything he had, and were beyond proud of him. At the same time, it was also the year you were filling out endless applications to universities in America, unsure of where you wanted to go or what you wanted to do in life. It was like you were both standing on the edge of something new, something big, and it was both thrilling and terrifying.

It was also the year you finally admitted to yourself that what you felt for Lando was no longer just friendship. You had been so close for so long that the shift felt almost imperceptible at first—lingering glance here, flutter in your chest there. But you acknowledged it, there was no going back.

You found yourself looking at him differently, noticing the little things about him that had always been there but suddenly felt so significant. The way how his eyes crinkled when he laughed, his curly hair, aquamarine eyes, the quiet focus he had when working on something he cared about, and most of all, the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you feel better.

But you kept it to yourself. You couldn’t tell Lando, not when he had told you so casually, like it was nothing that he liked someone.

“I don’t even know if she feels the same,” he had said, voice laced with uncertainty.

For a brief moment, a hope sparked in you. Maybe after all this time, Lando felt the same way about you. Maybe this was the moment that you had finally been waiting for.

But that hope shattered almost immediately when he pulled out his phone and showed you a photo. The girl’s name was Luisa, and she was stunning. She was everything that you were not—model, successful, gorgeous, has a radiant smile and a presence that seemed magnetic. Luisa was exactly Lando’s type, and you knew it.

The realization hit you harder than you had expected. You felt dumb and foolish, for even thinking one second that Lando could ever see you that way. You were not like Luisa, you were not the kind of girl who turned heads or made people stop in their tracks. You were just…you. Lando’s best friend. The person he could have a joke with, confide in, and lean on, but will never see you anything as more.

So you stayed quiet. Buried your feelings deep, gaslighting yourself that everything was better the way it is. The less you talk, the less you risked losing him. Maybe if you kept on pretending that everything was fine, you could learn to let him go.

A new clip began to play. You were seated on the edge of a bench, face scrunched in frustration as you ran a hand through your hair. The sound of Lando’s laughter crackled through the speakers, light and teasing, as he zoomed in on your expression from behind the camera.

“You’re such a drama queen,” he said, voice laced with amusement.

It was clear that from that clip that he was trying to cheer you up. It had been one of those moments when everything felt overwhelming. Your plans, future, and feelings. Yet, even in your frustration, Lando had managed to make you laugh. He always did. Watching it now, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at how young and naïve you looked.

But the video carried more weight than just a frustration afternoon. That day, you had a front-row seat to another chapter in Lando’s pursuit of Luisa. It was the day he told you that he finally confessed his feeling to her, and you could still remember how his voice sounded. It was a mix of hope and vulnerability as he recounted every detail, but his excitement had quickly dimmed when Lando explained how his confession had met an uncertainty from Luisa, not really sure how she felt about Lando.

You remembered how that hurt him, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado. It was one of the few times you had seen Lando genuinely shaken, his confidence chipped away by a single sentence. Still, it did not stop him, if anything, it only made him more determined to win her over.

This is exactly what Lando is—relentless, persistent, unwilling to let go of something he wanted.

Then there was you, caught in the orbit of it all. A pattern had started to form, one you did not want to acknowledge but couldn’t ignore. Whenever Luisa turned her back on him, when his texts went unanswered, or her attention drifted elsewhere, Lando would always find his way to you. His calls would come late at night, voice low and tinged with sadness as he stumbled through excuses to keep you on the line, and you, despite knowing better, would always answer.

Those were the moments you chastised yourself for loving. When Lando was hurt, when he felt small and alone, he always came to you. You were the person he confided in, one he leaned on. It almost felt like you mattered to him in the way you wanted to. Even if you knew, deep down, that it was not that. That it was temporary, a band-aid for his bruised ego—you couldn’t help but savor the attention.

But then, inevitably, Luisa would give him the smallest bit of her time, and you would become invisible to him again. The calls would stop, texts would taper off, and Lando would be lost in the glow of her half-hearted affection. You would feel the ache of being left behind, sting of knowing you were nothing more than a safety net, a placeholder, a convenient fallback plan.

It was a never ending cycle you despised, one that made you look at yourself with pity as you played into it. But whether it was out of hope or some cruel sense of inevitability, you stayed. You let it happen. Time and time again, picking up the pieces when Lando fell apart, only to watch him hand them back to her the moment she glanced his way.

It was always like this. It had always been like this, and somehow, despite everything, you definitely hadn’t learned your lesson.

The video continued to play, the faint static of old footage mixing with Lando’s voice can be heard, his laughter like a distant echo from another life. As you watched yourself on the screen—smiling, frowning, existing in a world where everything felt so much simpler—memories came rushing back, faster and heavier than you had expected. They were not just simple memories of moments, they were reminders of how deeply you felt, how much your life revolved around Lando without you even realizing it.

Your feelings for him had always been the silent undercurrent of your friendship, unspoken but ever-present. You had spent so much time trying to convince yourself that it was just a phase, that you would grow out of it, but you never did.

Instead, those feelings rooted themselves deeper, becoming a part of you. You wondered if the reason you hadn’t moved on was not because you could not, but because you hadn’t really tried at all. Maybe you were afraid, maybe life felt easier when you let it stay messy, undefined—when you clung to the hope that Lando might see you differently someday.

But the reality of it all was far less romantic. You had become his backburner, a place he turned to only when he had nowhere else to go, and the most pathetic part? You didn’t even mind. You let yourself burn quietly on his backburner, knowing full well you would never be the main thing in his life.

No matter how many times you say to yourself that it was okay, that you could handle it, deep down it ate you. There wasn’t anyone else you wanted, there hadn’t been for years. It was always him, it will always be Lando—his laugh, his voice, his stupid smile that made you forget the pain he caused by just being himself. You hated it, and yet you couldn’t even let it go.

Your memory reeled in to that one particular night, a night etched into your memory like a scar. Lando had called you on facetime, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone. His eyes were red, voice trembling with raw emotions as he told you what happened with Luisa.

She had hurt him again, made him feel small in a way that he couldn’t quite put into words. Lando looked so broken, so unlike himself, that it made your heart twist in ways that you did not want to admit.

And yet, you couldn’t help but tease him. You told him how he looked ugly when he cried, masking your own hurt with humor. But inside, there was a flicker of something else—something cruel and selfish. You felt happy that he thought of you in that moment, that you were the person he called when everything else in his life fell apart. It was sick and twisted, and you couldn’t have hated yourself more for it, but it was the truth.

At the same time, you felt conflicted, torn between two versions of yourself. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt you by treating you like an afterthought. But the other part of you, the part that still believed in him, in the friendship you had shared since you were kids—wanted to comfort him, to be there for him even if it meant breaking yourself in the process.

You always knew how it would go. In a week or so, Lando would be back on his feet, back in Luisa’s orbit, and you would fade into the background again. He would stop calling, texting, and you would be left alone again, waiting for the next time he needed you. You wished you could stop caring, that you could let him go and just move on, but you couldn’t. You cared too much, loved him too deeply, and it was destroying you.

You stayed. You stayed because even though it hurt, even though it made you feel small and invisible, there was still a part of you that believed in him. In the boy who had once held your camcorder, laughing as he filmed you spinning in circles in the park. In the friend who had always been there, even when it felt like the rest of the world wasn’t. You believed in him, even if it meant you couldn’t believe in yourself.

You checked the timestamp on the video and realized it was nearing the end. The final clips began to play, taking you back to a day you remembered so clearly—the beach trip. The screen filled with bright sunlight and sand, camera jerking slightly as Lando filmed you running along the shoreline, wearing one of his bucket hats and sunglasses, your laughter ringing out over the crashing waves.

You watched yourself as if through someone else’s eyes—carefree, alive, darting back and forth like a puppy with boundless energy. Lando’s voice came from behind the camera, teasing you for your antics, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the memory.

It was one of those days you had hoped would change everything. Lando wasn’t thinking about Luisa then. He was with you, laughing, joking, making you feel like maybe you mattered more to him than you let yourself believe. You had clung to that slight flicker of hope every time he drifted back into your orbit, telling yourself that the moments he spent with you would eventually outweigh the hold Luisa had over him. But you know then, deep down, you knew better. You had always known better.

The last clip began to play. The two of you were in one of his cars, the camera shakily capturing the scene as he handed it to you. Lando had insisted you try driving it, grinning with the kind of reckless confidence that was so quintessentially him. You know that he hated someone driving him, especially that it was his car, but he didn’t even hesitated when it came to you.

The video was cut to him standing outside, filming you through the windshield as you tried to maneuver his car into a parking spot, and it was a disaster. He zoomed in on your face, flushed and irritated, as you waved frantically at him to get back inside of his car and help you. Your lips moved as you shouted something at him, your expression twisted in mock anger, but it only made him laugh.

That sound, the sound of his laughter—echoed through the room as you watched yourself scowling at him, completely oblivious to how the moment would look years later.

When the video finally faded to black, you sat there in silence, staring at the black screen of your laptop. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as a sad smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. The memories left a bittersweet feeling in their wake, filling your chest with an ache that never really went away.

You always knew the truth. You would always be in Lando’s corner, even when it felt like he had forgotten you existed. You would stay, waiting in the shadows, knowing full well you were his second choice, or maybe not even a choice at all. Yet, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care, you had settled on being Lando’s backburner long ago, content to exist where he had placed you, because even the smallest scraps of his attention felt like more than you deserved. You knew it would never be enough, but it was all you had.

When you left the UK, you had never properly said goodbye to Lando. You couldn’t face him—not after everything. It had been the hardest thing you had ever done, leaving the place where you grew up and leaving the person that mattered to you the most.

The day you were about to board the plane to America was supposed to be the start of something new for you. But it also turned out to be the same day Lando and Luisa had finally gotten together. It didn’t make sense at first, you had been too wrapped up in your own plans to notice anything strange.

You were so focused on your own future, dreams, and adventure that lay ahead. But the moment you realized what had really happened, the gut-wrenching truth hit you all at once. Despite everything, despite all the years of friendship, despite the deep feelings you had kept buried, Lando had never said a word to you.

The first sign came two weeks before your departure, when you noticed he had not contacted you. Not once. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had spoken, and then, one evening, it hit you. While youwere scrolling through instagram, lost in the sea of photos and videos, you saw it.

Lando and Luisa standing together in a sunlit paradise. They were everywhere—clinging to each other, smiling like they had always been this happy. Their arms wrapped around each other, looking like the couple everyone thought they were meant to be, living out the kind of romance you had always imagined for yourself—only, it was not with you.

It stung more that you could have imagined. It felt like a cruel grip and punch to the stomach—seeing them together, seeing him in a way you never thought you would. There they were, living life, having fun in Dubai, while you had been silently fading into the background, unable to say anything, unable to be anything more than just a shadow.

It suddenly made the decision easier for you. Maybe it was petty, or childish. But at that moment, it felt like it was the only way to protect yourself. You didn’t need to say goodbye, or talk to him again. You didn’t think that talking or saying goodbye to him would even change anything. You didn’t want to face the truth anymore—didn’t want to admit how much it hurts to be forgotten, be pushed aside while he moved on.

So, you did what you had to do. You packed up everything, every piece of your life that had been tangled with Lando’s, and left. You left without a word, without any explanation. The silence between you felt so final, so complete, as if you were never even meant to matter.

When you landed in America, you didn’t waste any second. You changed your number, blocked him on social media, deleted every trace of him from your phone, from your mind, from your life. It was easier that way, right? No more reminders of what you could never have. No more wondering if he still thought about you. It was better to start fresh, even if starting over meant leaving everything you knew behind. You never looked back, at least that’s what you told yourself.

You gently closed your laptop, the soft click of the screen snapping shut, and disconnected the camcorder. You wanted to throw it away, erase it from your life entirely, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the hope that one day, you could look at it without all the pain attached to it, or maybe it was the attachment to something that had once meant so much.

With a deep sigh, you placed it back in the memory box, careful not to let it settle to heavily among the other momentos you had packed away. You knew you wouldn’t be able to part with it—not yet at least. Instead, you pushed the box deeper into your storage room, where it would sit quietly for now, out of sight but never far from your mind.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the box as if it might somehow speak to you, but all it did was remain silent, like everything else in your life that you had tried to put behind you. The soft sound of snow falling outside caught your attention, and you moved toward the window, your gaze drawn to the soft flurry of while blanketing the streets below.

Christmas was approaching in just a week, and for a brief moment, you wished you could go home, back to your family, to the familiar comfort of the holiday season. But the thought quickly passed. Home felt too far now, and you had your own life to navigate, a life in New York that, for all its challenges, had become a place you had grown to love.

You turned away from the window and began to change, pulling on warm clothes fit for the snow outside. It wasn’t much, just a quick errand to stock up on groceries before it got too dark. You didn’t mind the task, it gave you a reason to get out, to take in the city and its wintry charm. The air was fresh and crisp as you made your way out of your apartment, locking the door behind you with a soft click.

The world around you was calm as you stepped out into the quiet of the snowy streets, snowflakes falling gently around you, almost like a veil between you and the hustle of city life. New York felt different in the winter, quieter somehow, even as the holiday decorations began to shine brighter. Streetlights casting long shadows across the snow, and you admired the festive cheer that the city wore like a second skin. You had seen the Christmas tree lighting at the New Haven Green just last week, a tradition that always brought a sense of warmth despite the chill in the air.

Walking through the snow, you felt a small sense of contentment, something you had been searching for but hadn’t fully realized was within reach. The lights, crisp air—all of it made you feel like you had carved out a space of your own here. You hoped that it would stay that way, that the peace you had found wouldn’t be disturbed, even as the holiday season and all its chaos loomed on the horizon.

The grocery store was just a few blocks away, but your thoughts drifted to other things—nothing too heavy, just the soft hum of city life. It had been a peaceful walk, but then, you froze.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of something, or rather someone, someone so familiar in the distance. Curly hair that you could picture in your sleep. At first, you thought it was a trick of the light, a resemblance that your mind conjured up after hours of rewatching old videos. You quickly dismissed the thought, trying to shake it off. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be here.

But then, as if the universe had conspired to pull the past back into your life. The person looked up, and everything in your world stopped. It was him.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. The air around you seemed to thicken, sounds of the city dimming in the background as you took in the sight of him. Lando. In New York. Of all places he can be in right now, why was he here?

It had taken a long time to convince yourself, year after year, that you were fine, that you had moved on, that everything was better this way. Yet here he was, standing only a few meters away from you, the same familiar figure that had been a part of your life for so long.

You both stood there, frozen in place, just staring at each other as people around passed you by. Neither of you moved, as if the moment held too much weight to let anything else happen. It was like time had bent around you, your mind racing, questions swirling, but none of them found their way to your lips. You couldn’t speak, you weren’t even sure you could breathe.

Lando stood there too, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that everything else feel irrelevant. You knew he hadn’t expected to see you. Not here, not like this. Yet, there he was—right in front of you, a ghost from your past made flesh, making the familiar ache in your chest resurface.

You had thought you were done with him, that you had moved on, but standing here, with him so close and yet so far, you realized that maybe you had not moved on as much as you thought.

The world around you seemed to hold its breath.

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl

A Homelander X F! Reader fanfic

A/N: I am still working on my other projects but I just wanted to write something fun and light to get me back into writing. I hope y'all enjoy this short little piece, btw i aint got no kids so i have very little idea how milk banks work, this will be a 2 or 3 part story.

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

Word Count: 3K

Part 1– Heifer

Such a small box, smaller than a shoe box, just big enough to fit its contents with enough space for his ghost to move. You stared at the small box as its buried in the family plot… you never thought of visiting this place to ever bury the last shred of happiness you had left, his body was born weak, so small you wonder if you’d given birth to a child or a chick, 2 months ago you had come home to find your now ex in bed with his ex, he had turned this betrayal on its head and blamed you for it, something about your lack of desire lately, about how your pregnancy had given him amounts of pressures he'd never agreed with, talking endlessly about his needs and how much you’d ignored him.

Whoever this man was, you didn’t recognize him.

Time blurred into nothing but disconnected colors and shapes, all you know was that the stress and anguish lead to this.

A box under soil.

Days passed and in your empty apartment, surrounded by all the stuff you bought you stood in front of the sink, throwing a bottle of fresh milk down the drain feeling tremendous guilt, the doctor said you would dry out soon enough but your breast had swollen so much your bras no longer fit– even the spare ones you bought just in case they’ve grown a size too big from what you expected, you booked an appointment with your doctor hoping they could give you whatever cocktail of drugs to dry you out and save you from the pressure and pain in your chest, it had been nothing but a passing message from a worried neighbor who had stop by to give you some mail that had been sent to them by accident when she mentioned her daughter-in-law had donated her excess milk after her little one refused to latch, she gave you the name of the charity and after much thinking you gave in, you lost your baby but there was some woman out there who could end up experiencing your same grief if their baby starved to death, yours simply born too small and weak to hold your finger for very long.

It felt good, you met the women running the charity and even some of the faces of the women you helped, as you delivered your frozen packs to the women’s clinic where the charity operated, it helped you heal, it gave your pain purpose, but as the months faded behind you a part of you worried about how much you keep producing, less than before but still too much, yet you keep going knowing it would end soon enough. 

Perhaps somebody in the clinic or the charity had dropped your information to these people but you'd received some mail regarding some research trials Vought International was running and how they needed some donors to drop fresh samples, in their pamphlet they offered to pay a decent amount--your divorce had been costly plus having to move to a new place and breaking your previous lease had left your bank account quite dry, this was cheap money, you had given your milk for free, you looked at the few pouches you had collected for next week's drop you saw a wonderful opportunity to make some quick cash.

You went to the Vought Clinic and saw a few other women filling up forms, reading old magazines or dilly-dallying on their phones until some nurse called their numbers, you filled the medical form, waited less than half an hour before your number was called, brought into a small bleach scented room, the nurse read your form and told you she would take a blood sample, a doctor came in, reciting whatever script he’d been given about what this project was, giving you big words you had no interest in, this was about providing better milk formulas closer to natural milk than anything currently in the market apparently, thanking you for your donation, he looked at your form smiling as he saw your inked words.

“You're still producing 4 months after…” The doctor handed you a disinfecting wipe and a freshly steamed breast pump in a silver tray– we just need two samples, please press the alarm to let us know you’d finished, then follow Nurse Potts to the front counter to sort out your payment.”

It had been an awkward experience, but there you were 300 dollars richer, you probably should’ve read those papers a bit closer before signing but money was money and you were told to come back if you could.

You did it a couple times for 2 months, much like a man donating sperm for pocket money or plasma to pay the rent.

That was the first mistake, you headed home and woke up the morning after wishing you had stayed out for an extra hour or two, perhaps caved in to your friends pressures and tried going back to dating (after all your ex was whoring himself all across the lower east side without moral qualms) or hookups so you would had gone to a different address, maybe you should had taken a taxi instead of taking the train and walking home.

Regardless you woke in some strange empty room, the only thing beside your person was a pair of pale pink hospital gowns, grippy socks, clean underwear and a pair of thick large towels, you screamed and banged on the door for an ungodly amount of time but nobody ever came, you stayed alone in that room for what could have been 12 hours or more… maybe less… who knew it was all too much, suddenly a sharp sound cut into the silence a note had been slid under the door, you rushed to the note.

It was instructions, they wanted you wearing their clean clothes, you could not leave the room unless you did so, and as much as you hated the idea, you wanted to get out so badly, you knew if you wanted to escape your only chance came in knowing your surroundings, you begrudgingly and tearfully changed, waiting until anything changed– the doors hissed opened, a woman in a sharp cream coloured suit stood there with clipboard and an armed guard, at the sight of the heavy looking gun– you froze.

Then you took the first step towards hell.

You knew the following things: You lived in some basement area– there were no windows, only elevators. You weren’t alone, there were other women here and they made sure to keep your interactions at minimum no doubt to keep all of you submissive and not getting any ideas, sometimes familiar faces will fade and you could only speculate nightmares. Lastly… your purpose, the reason you were trapped here in the first place was… to lactate.

A plucky little thing that stayed optimistic despite your shared horror called herself a ‘Heifer’ she wasn’t wrong… you lived in a small cell where everything had sat on top of each other feed to keep fat and producing milk much like a cow, whoever developed this diet knew of all the ingredients known to help production, and you knew there were putting something else in the food for your breast begun to feel uncomfortable, for a little while you thought you could fight it by starving yourself, then two men with guns came into the room and told you to eat or else.

The time you spend outside this microflat hong-kong style cell was in the milking room and the shower room, you were ordered to stay clean and quiet, at least in the milking room you had some television and could spend time with the other women, but they keep you isolated, you could do very little, sometimes music would play and a book would be dropped with your food but your happiness wasn’t priority, you had to fill a quota.

After a couple weeks of this you simply accepted defeat, too many guns… not enough spaces to run, and nothing to come home to… a man that wanted to sue you for more feeling as if the judge had been unfair, a pestering family who acted as if they had been the only ones who experience loss, an empty cot you still hadn’t gotten rid off and piles and piles of bills, in this quiet cool room you had spend endless hours thinking, you didn’t love your job, you had been distant from most of your friends and you could only imagine that they assumed you had run away or killed yourself after what happened nobody could blame you.

Existing for the sake of existing until you could figure out what to do next.

“Good Evening… I’m glad you’re eating so well” The lady you met the first day said as the door hissed open, she watched you like a hawk as you process this sudden interruption, clutching at your paper thin blanket, you looked at the floral fabric in her arms and the clipboard under her arm– I need you to sign this before you’re allowed upstairs”

“Am I being let out?” You said anxiously, no way it could be that easy you thought.

The lady let her smile waiver, looking at the unseen guard then at her wrist watch as she handed you the clipboard.

“Your performance might determine how soon you'll be release…”

“You assume I won’t go to the police…”

“That wouldn’t be wise Miss L/N but we assure you that you’ll be sufficiently compensated for the inconvenience.”

You wanted to yell, but a voice in the back of your head thought of this but nothing but pageantry, you were dead either way, but perhaps this could be your opportunity to escape, whatever they wanted to do now meant being outside of these buried walls, you signed the sheet without thinking, briefly considered stabbing the bitch in the eye but is likely they would turn you into swiss cheese before you even took a step too close, she took the paperwork from your hands and in change handed you a long sleeved dressed straight out of the mormon section in target, she closed the door and you dressed up.

The halls looked so odd when you didn’t wear your prison clothes, the other few doors housed sleeping and bored girls, your plucky friend hidden behind one of them, the new girl hidden behind one of them and the girl you seen before in the milking room once hid behind one of them.

They took you to an elevator– it was old box, if you had to guess by the button’s design maybe built in the late or mid 70s, you never left their side until the elevator closed before them, the box moved slowly, a dingy silver box with low honey coloured lights, so dim… and you were alone, as the light chime as it went up you felt your entire being sink into your stomach, your heart beating so fast you were sure you were gonna have a heart attack before the doors opened once again, swallowing dry spit, your eyes opened so wide it hurt.

Quiet… it was so quiet when the doors opened, you expected something else, something menacing… something frightening– not an old house, an old house in the middle of some evergreen forest, everything screams old, untouched, museum like, like it's meant to present this idea that somebody lives here but not really, despite it being an elevator hidden behind a bookcase, you take a few cautious steps, your naked feet bury in the plush carpet, there’s bird singing outside and the sun is so bright and warm it hurts your eyes, the cool tones gone and this feels like a bad dream, pinching yourself but you’re awake, tragically awake, a weird wiry smile creeps on your lips, an almost laugh escapes your lips before you can feel tears burning your eyes.

“Hello…?” You ask and you don’t know why.

As you venture into the living room, hands firm against the tacky dark pink wallpaper, you found old floral couches that matched the drapes and despite how old school it was it had a charm to it.

Then you saw him.

Perusing the VHS collection filled the entire bookcase on the wall, just rows and rows of VHS boxes, some plastic and some cardboard, the TV boxy and just as antiquated but who cared— he was there.

You ran before you even realized you done it, crashing into him with desperation, tears staining your cheeks and you could barely breath as you tried so hard to speak.

“Homelander please help me!! I’ve been kidnapped!! Please!!” You cried, pulling on his suit– please!!”

Those endlessly blue eyes more poison dart hide than veronica flower bush the more they stared at you calmly, his lips into a thin smile and his hand thad taken your wrist inflicting just enough force to keep you firmly in his grip… to show you how he wasn’t an ordinary man, he looked at you as your tears changed meaning as if you were the most unfortunate creature he’d ever seen, his lips parted just enough to show those sharp canines that had looked so charming in sidewalk posters, now you could sense their presence squeezing at your jugular.

“You are so much prettier in person, Y/N.” His voice is disturbingly soft and calm, intimately quiet as he takes a whiff of your neck, moving you to make it easier, his free hand creeped towards your hip– I was so glad when I saw your picture and you weren’t hideous.”

Trembling against him, a nonexistent cold draft blew against you, your whole body shivering and covered in goosebumps.

His eyes fixated in your breast, mouth agape as his tongue dared to lick his lip, watching you like a starved man at a las vegas buffet, his hand slithering upwards, you know where this is leading, you can’t stop crying but you can’t scream either, you're just there as his hand avoids your breasts and creeps towards your back and presses your bodies together.

“I’m so glad you signed that sheet, I was getting sad endlessly waiting for one of you to agree to the deal” He says quietly, you stare at him and you realize you should’ve actually read that stupid sheet– why so scared? I ain’t gonna bite.” He bites the air as a joke and you could tell that that single bite could have torn your finger off cleanly.

His eyes shift to your clinging fingers that stayed so stiff against his padded suit, you stopped squeezing at him now they rested limp against him.

“Let’s watch a movie…” 

It’s an awkward dance concluding in sitting down on a couch, its surprisingly soft and you’re sinking on the cushion while your mind dissolved in the sky, the coffee table had a humbled spread of snacks, pizza and milkshakes, not once did you notice, you stared at him clutching at your dress as he picked something out of the shelve, watching as his hand worked the VHS player, the clicks and whirling all you could focus on. He sat beside you as the speakers began to play the included trailers, he took the drink urging you to do the same with a menacing look, filling you with incomplete thoughts as you obeyed.

Malt vanilla marinated in your tongue, you had a terrible thought.

‘Milk’ 

You were there to provide milk… to whom? Why just milk? You thought they would sell your body or your organs, experiment on you but… they wanted your milk, but who was buying it? Who was drinking it? Where did it go? You stared at the pretty blond whose arm kept your shoulders still, you saw the news– you’d known he had a child and who knows with whom but his kid was old enough to not need it… was it for him? You thought… thinking of it as ridiculous until you remember how 20 minutes ago  he was staring at your tits as if he was malnourished, you looked at his lips pursing as he took a long sip of his milkshake and wonder if that was milk… from a cow… not a heifer like you.

Homelander smiled at you.

“I don’t like ‘The mothman prophecy’ , never been a Richard Gere fan” he said casually.

“He was really good in ‘Pretty Woman’ . This one is okay…” You looked at the screen your voice so stiff– what’s going on…? Mr. Homelander… I…"

“Shhh… watch the movie” He leaned against you resting his head on your shoulder– you tasted the best… every batch perfection– such delicate custardy taste… So this is what we are gonna do… I’ll keep you in this floor so you’re not so bored ."

You swear he’s purring as he rubs himself against you marking you as much as he was making himself comfortable.

“There’s cameras everywhere… The glass is bulletproof, doors won’t open without a fob and code, and there’s no phones or internet, but if you do manage to get out of here just be aware I’ll know.” He said such terrible things as if it was nothing– if you tried to off yourself there will be 3 armed guards and nurses here in less than a minute but if you behave I promise you– you’ll be allowed out, but only if you gain my trust.” He looks up at you as you focus on those thin lips of his– there’s no kitchen but your meals will be delivered… if you want anything just tell the camera over there.”

He pointed at the corner tucked in between two VHS tapes was a small camera.

“I like you Y/N you're cute… you’ll behave for me, right?”

You nodded, too afraid to disagree.

“Now… let’s finish the movie… I actually like this part”

You stared at the pizza box, you could at least tell that the pizza was from an american restaurant, which made you feel safe ‘Select Pizza and Grill” said in the box and you knew you were somewhere in Pennsylvania, far from your apartment in Clinton Hill.

You looked at your boobs feeling his piercing gaze on them, you started drawing lines connecting weird things together, back when you were donating your milk, girls joked about people buying for medicinal and fetish purposes, this spelled itself out for you.

Maybe you could get out of here… but you had to do something weird… but as you heard the birds outside and the warm light peeked into the room, you realized maybe you could leave… no you’ll leave, you’ll go back home and you would find a way to ruin this man and those bastards beneath you, you’ll get them out too, so you took one courageous breath and forced a smile on your dried lips.

“You really liked it?”

“Huh?”

“My milk…” You mumbled– you know I never tasted it myself but am glad to get a review.”

“It’s really tasty” he bites his lip.

Your hand plays with one of the buttons on the dress.

“It hurts a bit… I usually get asked to pump around this time… dunno if you know this but it's a bit painful when they get this swollen.”

The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know and as you leaned away from him pulling on buttons with slightly trembling fingers, you watched him follow your movements like a snake chasing prey.

“Would you help me out, mister superhero?” Is not flirty but is slightly playful and you’re surprised that you can lie that well, he’s so shameless as he shakes his head enthusiastically, mouth opening for you– please don’t bite.”

He gasps as you let him see all that he’d wanted from the get go, why he put you in that box, why you ended up in this place for.

His body was lighter than you thought as he sunk against you-- eyes closed, body limp against yours, he made the softest sounds it put you at ease somehow, for a moment you saw a very small being latched on your chest, you’d only experienced it once before, and it was seared into your mind as a painful yet tender memory, so you close your eyes dreaming of a fantasy far removed from this peculiar reality, half lid eyes found a man so blissed out your lips curved, this was unbelievable, the world most famous supe keeping you hostage just so you could indulged him.

But you knew now… that this was your way out.

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Interlude - Meddling With Our Hearts

Summary: Five times someone interferes with yours and Aemond’s relationship and one time you decide to take the reins and shape your own fate.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 6,9k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Hello!! How have you all been? This one came out faster than I expected! Yay!

Okay, just to explain a few things, so this chapter is a bonus, non-chronological chapter in the story. It is separated into items, as it follows the ‘5+1 Things’ model, spanning across several years. In item 1, Reader and Aemond are very young, around 4 and 6 respectively (and Aegon is around 10), whereas items 2, 3, 4 and 5 are set after chapter 1 of this story (think episodes 6 and 7 of season 1). Lastly, the last item is set in the middle of chapter 2. 

I am having lots of fun writing for Aemond, so much so I have a few ideas for unrelated one-shots I plan on writing for him. Anyway, I really really hope you enjoy this!

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1. Aegon Targaryen

As young children, wherever Aemond Targaryen was you were never too far behind. As the eldest of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s children, you were often regarded as a possible successor of your mother’s to the title of the Realm’s Delight, being soft and sweet and so very beautiful even from such a young age. There was no shortage of people wanting to gaze upon you, spoil you with attention and possibly win over the favor of the heir to the Iron Throne after King Viserys I. But there was only ever one person whose attention you truly craved.

With the birth of your younger brother Jace and your mother’s pregnancy with yet another child, your parents’ attention was naturally split. It wasn’t to say they neglected you or favored your brother above you, oh no, but it was only natural that you were no longer their sole focus, even more fickle given their duties at court. Your father in particular, Ser Laenor, tried to give you as much attention as he possibly could, but even then that was restricted to specific times of the day, mostly at supper and after. It was an adjustment, for sure, and for a little while you resented your little brother, but you were quick to find another source of the attention you craved somewhere else: your uncle Aemond. You couldn’t possibly know why, nor had you ever thought about it, but you were drawn to him in ways you could not explain. And the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Aemond Targaryen, as the second son of King Viserys and his fourth child, was most often overlooked by many in court. He wasn’t Rhaenyra, who held their father’s unconditional love, or Aegon, who carried the title of his first male child, and matters were made worse by the fact that his dragon egg had yet to hatch, whereas Aegon’s had done so when he was still pretty young, and Helaena had quickly claimed Dreamfyre. Even his mother, who once doted on him like never before, had lessened her attention over him, as her fourth pregnancy progressed and her affection usually leaned more towards her only daughter. 

So when his little niece, barely old enough to attend lessons, had developed a fascination towards him and would often trail behind him wherever he went, he absolutely basked in the attention that was so freely given. You, who had no obligation to him other than to be cordial at best, gazing up at him with adoration in those innocent eyes made him cherish the moments you spend together.

It was only natural, then, that the two of you could often be found in each other’s presence. Whenever neither of you were having lessons and were left to your own devices, you seemed to always find each other, your tiny hand enveloped in Aemond’s not much bigger one as he pulled you behind him towards whatever destination he had in mind.

“Where we going, Aem?” your sweet voice, not yet able to properly speak his name, would often ask. The library, the dragonpit, the gardens, it didn’t truly matter as long as you were together.

Aem.

The nickname you had bestowed upon him was one of his deepest treasures. To everyone else he was either Aemond, son or brother, and two of these he had to share with other people, but to you, and to you alone, he was Aem. It was something so inherently his, something to share with you and only you. It reminded him of you, of the devotion and admiration you held for him, something no one else seemed to have for him, and he never wanted to let go of it.

But as he would be reminded time and time again he should never hope, nor should he wish for good things for himself, for they could be ripped from him at a moment’s notice.  

The day had started out like any other: after your lessons you had quickly scrambled out of your quarters to find Aemond and spend the day together. He had decided, then, to take you to the training grounds to watch some of the knights train.

“See that one over there?” he pointed to a man, just barely out of adolescence, training with Criston Cole “That is Ser Arryk. Or could he be Erryk? It matters not, either way, both of them are really good. Ser Criston is training them to be the newest members of the Kingsguard.”

“Wow.” you sounded from next to him, mesmerized by the clash of the swords.

“Impressive, hm?” he then pointed to another man who was supervising the training “Ser Criston, over there, he is the best knight in all the realms. I hope to train under him and be as good as he is one day.” 

He was eager to start training with the sword, like his older brother already did. His mother had promised him that he could start his own training after his next nameday, though it was still a few moons away, he was already eagerly waiting for that moment.

“You be amazing knight in future, Aem.” you turned towards him then, that look of pure reverence made warmth spread in his chest, for he felt your words were true.

“Aem?!” a familiar voice cackled behind the two of you, and Aemond could feel the cold dread seeping into his heart like it usually did when his brother decided to torment him.

Aegon marched over in your direction, almost an entire head taller than Aemond, and ruffled his younger brother’s hair with a tad more force than necessary.

“Oh, Aemy, you will be such an amazing knight one day.” he spoke in a poor imitation of your own voice, high pitched and overly sweet and dreamy. Your face was scrunched in anger and poorly contained humiliation, and had the two of you not been under scrutiny Aemond would have found it adorable.

“Aegon, stop it!” he tried defending the two of you but he couldn’t stop his own cheeks from lighting up in embarrassment.

“Aemy, oh, Aem. Perhaps our mothers will marry us off to one another and I can carry your children.” Aegon chuckled before flicking his brother on the forehead “You would surely want that, wouldn’t you, you twat?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. With a warcry unbefitting of a princess of the realm you delivered a sharp kick to Aegon’s shin, the only part of him you could really reach, before running off with tiny droplets streaming down your cheeks. Aemond tried going after you, holding your wrist, but you swatted his hand away and disappeared around the corner.

“She attacked me!” Aegon complained, voice strained from the intensity of the blow, utterly baffled at how something so small could carry so much strength.

“Oh, please!” Aemond pushed past his brother, annoyed, before stomping away towards his own quarters “It barely scratched. And you deserved it.”

For the next three days you ignored both of them, preferring to spend your days with Heleana. Whenever he asked about you, his mother would claim you didn’t wish for visitors and would rather stay in the company of your aunt. Aemond couldn’t deny that it stung, the only person he felt cared for him deeply, no longer wanting to spend time with him.

So he was overjoyed when, on the fourth day, you approached him as if nothing had ever happened, your expression light and smile bright as you held his hand.

“Where we going, uncle?” and his face fell, joy completely dissipating and giving way to sadness. 

You refused to call him by his previous nickname after that day, opting to refer to him only as ‘uncle’ going forward, and Aemond felt an overwhelming longing for things to go back to the way they were. He couldn’t help the resentment he felt towards Aegon for ruining what you had, for he felt it in his bones that things between the two of you would never truly be the same again.

2. Jason Lannister

You were bored out of your very mind at the moment. You had zoned out completely and could barely hear the incessant droning of Jason Lannister’s voice in the background as you reflected upon your life at the moment.

After that night in the bathtub where you shared your very first kiss with your uncle, you feared things between the two of you would change, and change for the worse. You didn’t want that, cherishing what you had with Aemond, even if it never went anywhere beyond friendship. But you needn’t have worried so much, for both of you seemed adamant in not ever speaking of that night ever again. It did sting a little if you were being honest with yourself, but you preferred that over ruining what you had.

So you were very much looking forward to spending a few hours with him before lunch when you were intercepted by Ser Jason Lannister.

“You look wonderful today, my princess.” the man had smiled down at you.

“Uh, thank you, my lord.” you answered, confused as to what he could possibly want.

“Why don’t you give me the pleasure of going on a stroll with me around the gardens?”

You didn’t know why he wanted to take a stroll with you of all people. And to be fair you didn’t want to spend more time than necessary in his presence. What you did want was to find Aemond and spend your day with him. But something, a strange sense of propriety and duty, held you back and you found yourself agreeing with his proposal.

That’s how you ended in the current situation, arm looped with his as he droned on and on and on about himself and his wealth and his castle and many other topics you couldn’t care less about. 

In your reverie you hadn’t even realized you had reached the training grounds until Aemond, who had just finished his training session with Ser Criston, smiled and waved at you as he was putting a wooden shield away. You were about to wave back when Ser Jason’s voice pulled your attention back to him once more.

“Well, princess, this is where we must part ways, unfortunately.” he gave a small bow of his head before letting go of your arm “The maesters say it is good to keep active, so I will go see if I can find a sparring partner.” 

You barely spared him a courtesy as Aemond was already by your side, ready to whisk you away.

“What was that all about?” he asked when you were already halfway to the library, a sense of unease pulling at his heartstrings once he remembered the way your arm was linked with the older lord.

“I do not know for sure.” you shrugged “I barely paid attention to what he was saying. Something about his riches I believe, we just went on a walk around the Keep.”

He laughed then, though it lacked any mirth, and his smile no longer reached his eyes.

“What is it?”

“You are so naïve, niece.” he explained.

“And why is that?” you questioned, feeling slightly offended.

“He wishes to court you.”

Your disgust at the thought must have been reflected very clearly upon your face, for he let out a full, genuine laugh this time.

“B-But- why?!” you tried collecting your thoughts, flabbergasted by such revelation “He is so…”

“Arrogant? Boring? Plain? All of the above?” Aemond completed for you, jesting at the situation.

“Old!” you whined and he laughed even harder at your expanse “I mean it! He is older than my own father!” you got closer to him to whisper conspiratorially at him “I heard he courted mother when she was looking for a husband, and he was already considered too old for her at the time.”

His laughter echoed around the halls, a few servants stopping to stare at the two of you, dumbfounded at the way you seemed to be able to bring the usually stoic prince out of his shell.

“But why does he wish to court me? Why not some other, older, lady?” you asked, still confused.

“Well, you are not just any lady, mandianna. You are a princess.” he explained, though his words seemed practiced, like they were reflections of not his own thoughts but those of other people “Any lord would jump at the opportunity to wed you. Chances are, in fact, that more suitors will start to flock around you for attention as you grow.”

“Ugh!” your shoulders slumped under the weight of your frustration “I do not wish to marry these lords!” you threw your hands up in exasperation “I just wish to spend my days with you and Helaena! Why can I not just marry you, then?!”

He felt a twinge too tight of happiness at the notion, but chose to ignore it and listen as you continued with your rant.

“If I were to marry one of these lords I would be miserable!”

His face softened in sympathy, remembering the conversation he overheard between his mother and grandsire regarding Aegon and Heleana’s betrothal. He felt pained for his sister, for he knew Aegon would not treat her how she deserved, and now he was seeing the same pattern with you.

“It is our duty, I fear, to find matches that best interest our House.” he spoke softly, but you turned towards him infuriated, and he feared he said the wrong thing.

“But I do not want to marry for duty!” his heart clenched in his chest as he noticed your eyes brimming with tears “I want a husband who loves and cares for me, like father and mother!”

He held back his tongue, knowing that speaking his mind about the kind of love between your parents, or lack thereof, would only upset you further. There was no denying that Ser Laenor cared deeply for Rhaenyra, just not in the way a husband should a wife.

The both of you stayed quiet for a moment, you simmering in your unsettled thoughts and him disappointed he couldn’t comfort you further, for this was something that was out of his hands.

“I would not mind, you know?” he heard you speak softly, turning his head to find you already looking at him.

“What?” 

“Marrying you.” you smiled softly at him “At least with you I would be content. I could see us being happy, even.”

Your words were a soothing balm over his heart, making it clench in his chest. He, too, did find the notion appealing, he could be happy with you, hells, you already made him happy.

“If it matters,” he spoke, trying to hide his true feelings behind a layer of nonchalance “I would not mind marrying you either.”

Your smile brightened then, and you bumped your shoulder with his.

“One can dream, right?” you giggled, before sighing once a servant came to fetch you to clean up before lunch, annoyed that your time with him had been cut short.

But as you walked away an idea formed in his mind, and with a determination he hadn’t felt in a really long time, he set off to find his half-sister.

3. Alicent Hightower

“No.” the Queen’s voice was harsh, and Aemond’s heart filled with dread as he peaked from his hiding place behind a pillar in her solar. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop but his traitorous heart was too anxious to wait.

“Come on, your grace.” Rhaenyra answered, clearly annoyed, a hand placed on her very pregnant stomach and another on her lower back, as if standing here arguing was bringing her physical discomfort “The boy came to me, begging for her hand in marriage, all that was left was for him to fall to his knees. She herself has asked about the possibility of marrying him once. They are the perfect match!”

After your conversation earlier that day, Aemond had set off to find Rhaenyra and ask, no, beg her to allow him to court and eventually marry you. She had laughed in his face, and he tried not to show how her dismissal wounded his pride, until her face softened once she realized he was serious. 

“Please, sister.” he had even stooped so low as to address their familial bond, no matter how sour the word tasted in his mouth “Allow me to marry her. As her husband, she would want for nothing, I would protect her with my very life. And I could even… make her happy.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened then, for the first time realizing how much her little brother truly cared for her daughter. She had known the two of you were close, but the depth of your feelings for one another was only now being revealed to her. So she promised him she would speak with his own mother, and if Alicent agreed, then so would she. Aemond’s heart had plummeted then, knowing it would be a lot harder getting through his mother. But he wouldn’t give up hope.

But hope, it seemed, was not enough.

“No, and my answer is final.” Alicent moved about, trying to get Rhaenyra to leave and go bother someone else.  

“Alicent,” even though she had her back towards him, Aemond could imagine the tick in his mother’s eye at the informal way Rhaenyra was addressing her “All I am asking is that you consider it.”

“Why do you even think they would be a good match for one another?”

“Oh, by the Gods, Alicent! Can you not see how much they care for each other? The amount of time they spend together? They are practically glued at the hip at this point!” Rhaenyra threw her hands up in exasperation, and Aemond could see yourself so perfectly in your mother’s image “I will just ask my father then.” 

“Do not entertain that idea even for a moment!” Alicent’s voice became shrill as she glared at her former friend “What is this even about, hm? Are you so afraid that child” and she pointed at Rhaneyra’s prominent bump “will be born sooner or later bearing a striking resemblance to a certain commander of the City Watch once more that you resort to this… this scheming? To secure your line of succession, is that it?”

Ouch. That was low, even for Alicent’s standards. 

Rhaenyra’s face hardened as she stepped closer to the Queen, and for a moment fear gripped Aemond’s heart that he was about to witness his mom get battered.

“My brother, your own son” she spat out, genuinely angry now “begged me to let him marry my daughter when they are older. He promised me he would be a good husband, and for once in my life I am inclined to believe him.” her face softened then, raising her hands as if to grab Alicent’s but let them drop, thinking better than to try and touch her “Please, your grace. If there is still any care left in your heart for the love we once held for one another, please let me do this for him.” 

Aemond waited with bated breath for his mother to say something, anything. For once in his life he allowed himself to hope; he’d give up everything, even his dream of having a dragon of his own, just so she’d say yes. But the longer she went without saying anything, the deeper the cracks in his heart became.

“I will not be able to change your mind, will I?” Rhaenyra asked, her face contorting in sympathy, and when Alicent shook her head, breaking his heart in a thousand tiny little pieces in the process, she sighed “Then I feel sorry for Aemond. For both of them.”

As Rhaenyra left the Queen’s solar, Aemond took his leave as well, his heart shattered and a weight heavy on his stomach, regretting even going to his half-sister in the first place. It seemed you and he could never be after all.

4. Rhaenyra Targaryen

Tears streamed down your face as you ran through the cold tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast, not caring even for a moment that you were only dressed in a nightgown. The news you had just heard from your father regarding your mother’s decision weighed heavily in your heart, and you had to share them with your uncle immediately. It couldn’t wait until the morrow, because come first light you might be gone.

“Hells, niece, will you ever learn to knock?” Aemond had turned towards you once you barged inside his chambers through the secret door, freezing once he noticed the state you were in. He was in front of you in a second, holding your cheeks in his palms and forcing you to look at him “What happened?”

Even though his image was blurred by the tears that kept on rolling down your cheeks, barely noticing when he started collecting them with his thumbs, you could perfectly see the concern etched upon his features, and that was all it took for you to release the sobs you had been holding back, falling into his arms and hiccuping against his shoulder.

“Mandianna, what happened?!” he asked, holding your trembling figure in his arms and awkwardly trying to console you, running a gentle hand up and down your back. He had never seen you in such a state before, and he did not truly know how to help, much less without knowing the cause of your distress.

Once you had calmed down enough, your wails reduced to soft sniffles, you pulled back from him, running the back of your hand through your face to try and look more presentable.

“Mother has decided to move us to Dragonstone.”

Aemond’s breath hitched then.

“What?” he whispered, taking a step back from you.

“Father just told me. We are to leave King’s Landing come first light in the morrow.”

He felt his whole world crumbling before his very eyes then. He believed his heart could no longer face more damage, for it had already been broken when he overheard his mother and Rhaenyra’s conversation a sennight before, but he felt it shatter all over again at your words.

“C-Can you not stay behind?” With me?, he wanted to ask as his own eyes started filling with tears.

“I asked, but father says we are all to go. Me, Jace, Luke and baby Joffrey.”

His heart was beating widely in his chest, twisting painfully at the prospect of having to face everyday at court without you to keep him company, to keep him sane.

“We can write, of course, but-” you started, voice still trembling.

“It will not be the same.” he completed for you. 

It was true, wasn’t it? Things were about to change. On one hand he wouldn’t have to face the teasing from Jace and Luke, just Aegon, the main instigator. But on the other hand he would lose you, which was so much worse.

But then he noticed how your lower lip had started quivering again and realized he had put quite a lot of distance between the two of you. Not wanting you to jump to the wrong conclusions he crossed the space he had created and cupped your cheeks, looking sternly into your eyes.

“It does not change anything.” 

“Aemond-” you looked at him with sympathy and disbelief but he wasn’t having it.

“No. It does not change anything between us.” he spoke, determined “I will write to you every single day, and I expect a response every time. It will be like you never left. You can fly on dragonback and come visit. And when I get my dragon, I will visit you in return.”

Your smile, although tentative and still wobbly, returned to your face and he felt relief wash through him.

“You said so yourself, the lines promised me I will have a dragon.” he rejoiced at hearing you giggle “I have to make good use of them when time comes.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you. Something in your eye, glimmering with a blazing hope, compelled Aemond to lean forward, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he took everything in.

“We will still be the same.” he felt you move, nodding against his head, never once moving away “We will still be us.” 

And even though, or perhaps exactly because neither of you could prevent the events that would unfold in the following weeks, both of you believed it with every ounce of your souls.

5. Aemond Targaryen 

“Aemond.” you knocked once more, your knuckles red and starting to ache from their incessant contact with the hard wood “Qȳbor, please open the door.”

He hadn’t left his temporary chambers in days, and no one would let you see him. After the whole ordeal with Vhagar and the fight between your two mothers in the grand hall at Driftmark after the loss of his eye, Aemond was whisked away to the quarters he was stationed at during his stay so the maesters could work properly on his wound and for him to sleep off the copious amounts of milk of the poppy he had been given.

Having talked to your brothers and cousins and understood what had gone down, you started feeling a tad guilty for the way you reacted to it. Yes, you were still hurt over what he had said about your brothers and, by extension, you. But at the same time you had let him go when he was the most vulnerable, he had just lost an eye for the Gods’ sake. And yet, even though you were hurting, so was he, he needed you and yet you let go and ran from him.

So you had decided you needed to talk. Perhaps, if you apologized for Luke’s actions and your own behavior, he’d offer an apology of his own, for calling your brothers bastards and for not extending Rhaena the courtesy of trying to claim her late mother’s dragon before him. Then, having cleared the air, you could move past this and go back to the way things were, with exchanged letters and promises of visiting one another. 

But your attempts seemed futile. There was always a guard stationed in front of his door, denying you entrance every single time you asked. Even though they were stern, hardened by their training, you tried using your authority as princess to order them to let you through, but to no such luck.

“Apologies, princess.” they would say, a smidge of sympathy and annoyance in their tone “The prince is to receive no visitors. Orders from her grace, the Queen.”

Panic was starting to grip at your heart, for your time was running out. Eventually, as soon as Aemond was recovered enough to travel, King Viserys and his family would leave Driftmark and return to King’s Landing. By then it would be too late. If you didn’t speak to him now, you would lose Aemond forever. That is, if you hadn’t already lost him for good. You had to speak to him, and it had to be soon, otherwise he’d leave and you would lose the one person you cared most in the world, who understood you like no one else, and would be left to drown in your own loneliness.

So you started scheming. You waited around the corridor of his chambers, waiting for rotation of the guard so you could catch his door unattended. You almost managed once, but Queen Alicent opened the door to exit the room, stopping dead in her tracks once she came face to face with you, about to knock.

“Your grace!” you were quick to recompose yourself “I came to visit the prince. I wish to see if he is faring well.”

You winced, instantly regretting your choice of words once her face hardened. Of course he wasn’t faring well, he just lost his bloody eye! 

“Aemond is not receiving any visitors.” her voice was harsh, and dread overcame you as she started to walk away.

“Wait!” she stopped but didn’t turn around to face you as you pleaded “I just- I just want to see him.”

When she did turn her features were laced with a combination of disdain and pity. It stirred something so deep inside you you almost recoiled and ran, but you decided to endure.

“He doesn’t wish to see anyone, princess.” she spoke, her tone stern yet motherly. But the implications of her words were not lost on you.

He doesn’t wish to see you.

It hurt, tears brimming in your eyes as you turned around and headed for your chambers.  

Did he truly not wish to see you? Or did he just wish for solitude, away from everyone? Could your friendship still be mended after both of you had been hurt like this? 

It didn’t matter, afterall, for you were determined to try until the very end.

That’s how you found yourself in front of his door, finally alone with him, having waited patiently for the guard’s rotation and making sure his mother wasn’t around. It was his final night in Driftmark before he was set to return to the capitol, and so this was your last, final chance to talk to him before that. 

There was a light flickering inside his chambers, visible from under the door, so you knew he likely wasn’t asleep, and when you had knocked for the first time, you heard a thud coming from inside, like he had bumped into some furniture, so you believed he had listened to you. But no matter how many times you knocked, he wouldn’t open it, nor give any indication that he was listening. 

“Aemond, please.” you tried again “Please, let us talk.”

The longer you went without an answer, the tighter the knot that was forming in your throat became. Growing desperate, you laid your forehead on the cold, damp wood.

“Please.” you breathed out, not even sure he could hear you now “Talk to me, Aemond. Please.”

For a moment, a short, passing moment, you heard a flutter of movement from inside the room. Your breath hitched, a tiny flicker of unadulterated hope burning in your chest that he had heard you and was coming to talk. But it was quickly snuffed out when you heard nothing else follow.

A deep ache took over your chest, like something had dug its claws in your heart and squeezed. The inevitability of it all, the looming sense of grief over something so close yet impossibly far, out of your grasp completely, clouded your mind and had your ears ringing.

“I am sorry.” you said, taking a step back and turning around to leave “For everything.”

As you walked away you couldn’t help but feel like a part of you was missing. For you had just lost him for good. Perhaps forever.

+1

As you brushed off your skirts, having been sat on the grass by the weirwood tree, you set off to find your mother, determination written across your features.

You nearly ran into Luke as you walked briskly, sending a thankful look to Rhaena as she helped you steady him.

“Where are you off to in such a rush?” Jace asked as he came up behind your brother at the same time you bypassed him and Baela and continued on your way. 

“To secure myself a husband!” you shouted over your shoulder, not even turning back around to address them. Now all that was left was to find your mother.

And search for her you did. It was imperative that you found her quickly, for you wanted to make sure you did this tonight. It had to be tonight. No one knew how much longer the King would live, and the moment he drew his final breath, a war would break out within your family. A war that would ravage all of the Seven Kingdoms. So you had to make sure that didn’t happen while your grandire was still alive and lucid enough to give you his full support.

But Rhaenyra was nowhere to be found. The Keep was huge and there was a probability that you were both on the move and simply never crossing paths. You even stumbled upon Helaena during your search as she tended to her youngest son, Maelor.

“Have you seen my mother, aunt?” you asked after a brief and sweet exchange, though you did not hug her like you would Baela and Rhaena, for you knew she did not like to be touched.

“I have not, niece.” she bounced baby Maelor in her arms as he cooed up at her “Why are you in such a haste to find her, if I might ask?”

“I have something of utmost importance to discuss with her.” you smirked as you added next, and by the glimmer in her eyes she understood the hidden meaning of your words “I believe I have found myself a suitable husband and must ask her to arrange our betrothal as soon as possible.”

“Oh!” she smiled brightly then “So we might be celebrating tonight.”

To your surprise and confusion, her smile faltered just a bit, her eyes becoming unfocused, before she smiled brightly again.

“With a union forged in fire and blood, the dragon’s nest is put to rest.”

You dared not question her, for Helaena often spoke in riddles, even in your youth. Biding her farewell you went back to your task. You didn’t have to search long though, for you quite literally bumped into your mother and Daemon right as you were turning down the corridor from Helaena’s chambers.

“Mother!” you exclaimed as you helped Daemon steady a once again very pregnant Rhaenyra “There you are!”

“You were looking for me, darling?” she asked.

“Yes.” you cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders “I wish for a husband.”

That seemed to take both of them by surprise, their eyes widening.

“O-Oh!” she smiled then, still confused where this was coming from “And did you have someone in mind?”

“I wish to take Aemond as my husband.” 

“Darling.” her face softened in pity as Daemon scoffed “You know the Queen would never allow this union.”

“That’s not all, mother. I think I may have found a way neither she nor the Hand could refuse.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged a curious glance with one another.

“Let us hear it then.” your step-father encouraged.

“I want Aemond as my husband.” you took a steadying breath, knowing you’d have to argue the next part “And I want him to be King.”

“Absolutely not!” was Daemon’s reaction, while your mother just looked… betrayed. And it broke your heart. You knew what she was thinking, she had just reaffirmed you as her heir, had to fight for it, and you now want to pass that off to someone else entirely?

“Please allow me to explain.”

“Why would you suggest such a thing?! To that cunt, of all people!” Daemon kept on raging, but his words were abruptly cut short as Rhaenyra raised her hand.

“Let her speak.” her tone was firm, and you knew you had to choose your next words carefully to plead your case.

“Word has come to me of a… plot against you as King Viserys’ heir.” her face twitched in anger for just a moment “The Queen and the Hand will try to instate Aegon as King once grandsire passes.”

“What is new?” Daemon laughed, incredulous.

“And the noble houses would back his claim.” you explained “Many will not recognize you as the legitimate heir-”

“But-” your mother tried cutting you off but you continued over her.

“-regardless of the oath they swore years ago. Simply because Aegon has a cock and you do not.” you hated how crass you sounded, but you had to get the point across “And then a bloody civil war would break out, for you would not let this go unpunished, am I wrong?” 

Rhaenyra pondered for a moment before nodding, and you took that as a sign to continue.

“A war between us, dragonlords, would absolutely decimate not only our House but also the realm. But a marriage alliance between me, your heir and future Queen, and my uncle might just make them give up on this quest.”

“Otto would never settle for his blood being just consort.” Daemon argued.

“That is why he would not be consort.” you smirked, the catch you were waiting to reveal slipping from your lips.

“You shouldn’t give up your claim and be consort either!” your mother exclaimed.

“I would not do such a thing. I would be the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Both of them looked baffled.

“Now you have lost me.” she said.

“When the time comes, both me and Aemond would be crowned Queen and King, and we would rule together as equals. No consorts.”

Rhaenyra took a step back from surprise, and Daemon looked like he was told the realm’s funniest joke.

“You cannot be serious, tala!” he chuckled, but there was an undertone of disbelief to it.

“It could work.” your mother spoke to herself.

“Rhaenyra, you cannot be entertaining this ridiculous idea!” Daemon turned towards her then, wringing his hands as if to stop himself from grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking some sense into her “It is not tradition!”

“Fuck tradition!” you exclaimed a lot more harshly than you intended, and probably a lot harsher than it was appropriate. 

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down enough. 

“You being heir over Aegon already breaks tradition as it is. Like I said, many will not see you as legitimate. But even if they do, and you are able to rule, the same thing would happen to me and Jace. But will you make all the great houses swear another oath to you?” Rhaneyra understood where you were going with this “Having a husband to back me up as heir, to rule alongside me, would give me strength in my own claim. If you are already breaking traditions, what is one more, eh?”

“You might want to keep your voice down.” Daemon spoke lowly, and you noticed he was staring at someone “The walls have ears in this Keep.”

From the corner of your eye you saw a familiar figure, and in a moment of panic, grabbed your mother’s hand and pulled her towards the temporary chambers you were housed in. You did not want Aemond to overhear what you had to say, fearful that should anyone hear about this ahead of time it would all crumble to shambles. As Daemon joined you two, shortly after, you continued. 

“Please, please mother! Think about it. It might be the only way.”

Rhaenyra was silent. While Daemon looked vexed, but made no further complaints, she looked deep in thought. You knew she knew you were right. She just had to see it for herself.

“It would be easier to convince them if we had the King’s approval. That is why we need to do this tonight, at supper.”

Daemon bristled but didn’t say anything. Your mother on the other hand agreed, even if she believed this was all very rushed.

“Would you be happy though?” she then asked, and it was your turn to be surprised “Marrying Aemond? After everything that has happened?”

You looked between her and Daemon, and for once in your life you were certain of what you wanted.

“Aemond has always been kind to me. Or most of the time, at least.” you shrugged “I believe, with due time, we could put our differences aside and rebuild what we once had. Perhaps even learn to love each other.”

Again, you meant. Learn to love each other again. At least in your case.

“Then it is settled.” she looked determined “We will pitch this proposition tonight.”

A wave of relief washed over you. This could work, genuinely actually work. Perhaps it didn’t have to end in bloodshed like you believed it would. Maybe your family could be whole again. And all of that at the cost of marrying the one you had longed for deeply in your heart once.

“He asked for your hand once, you know.” Rhaenyra broke you out of your trance, a soft smile on her face and a far away look in her eyes, as if she was reminiscing on a fond memory. Daemon had left at some point, leaving you both alone to share this conversation, too deep and personal for anyone else to hear, in private “Right before we left for Dragonstone.”

Your heart clenched in your chest at the revelation. He had wished to marry you as well?

“He said he could make you happy. And I believed him.” she then looked at you, cupping your cheek as pride took over her smile “I believe it still.”

You grasped at her wrist, feeling warm at the love you could feel it emanating from her.

“If you believe you could be happy as well,” she continued “then you have my blessing. That is all I want.”

You nodded, blinking back tears.

“I do. I will be very happy.” 

She nodded then, pulling you into her arms. In the safety of your mother’s embrace, you finally let yourself relax. Your fate was yours to shape how you saw fit, and you intended to make the most of it.

And you would.

High Valyrian translations: - mandianna - niece (older sister’s son or daughter) - qȳbor - uncle (mother’s younger brother) - tala - daughter (meant here affectionately, not by blood, as there are no terms for step-relative in High Valyrian)

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@garden-in-the-rain

@queen-of-elves

[leftneb]

Curiositas aka sirens!AU

in which Lando is a siren with species dysphoria and Oscar is the defintion of Just Some Guy, who happens to get caught up in Lando's mess. and obviously they fall in love along the way etc etc

I first posted about this idea over 2 months ago and I'm happy to announce that there is now a fic in the works!!! which will likely take at least another 2 months because goddamn the concept outgrew itself (as you can tell by the fact charles and max also, like, exist now) it's sitting at ~8k words rn, which is by far the longest thing I've ever written in my life already, but story isn't even close to being finished, so yeah it'll take a while lmao

for now though I have some character designs and lots of thoughts, which I'd like to share :3

ramblings about their individual designs and details below the cut!!

and massive thank you to my dear partner @lailau7904 for not only holding my hand through writing the fic so far but somehow being even more insane about this whole AU than I am???

LANDO

main character (and POV holder) his design isn't based on any real fish, closest resemblance is to a fake fishing lure (reference provided)

very little scarring despite sirens' hunting culture, some tiny cuts and scratches around the top of his tail from smuggling pretty stones and shards of glass

absurdly bright green scales (I really could've made him fluorescent but I think that would be overkill) which is absurdly shit for stealth purposes but good for catching the attention of potential victims

vague triangle shape language but in a semi-elegant way

doesn't eat fish and would rather not eat human either

MAX

fills the position of a leader in his and Lando's colony, inherited the role in his late teens but grew up to it pretty quickly

shark motif, all sharp and angular shapes, visibly intimidating

lots of scars collected during hunts, wounds covered over by red scales from Charles

his scales are pretty dark but they shine blue when the light hits them just right (plus Charles' scales are a bright red lmao, which is a bit suboptimal for stealth but he thinks it's worth it)

CHARLES

koi fish motif, soft and round shapes

no scarring at all

has known Max since they were kids but actually didn't meet Lando until their 20s despite Max and Lando being childhood best friends

considered legally dead by monegasque officials (this has lore reasons which I'm not about to spoil)

GENERAL NOTES

the AU plays in a modern setting, altough sirens are very behind on human technology

their gills are on the side of their ribs! they can also all breathe with their lungs above water

funky scales patterns on their torsos around "modified" areas such as their gills and back fin

they have no hands but don't let that fool you! I was simply too lazy to draw any, what you would see if I did draw them tho would include:

webbing between fingers!! matches the colour of fins

longer, and more solid, claw-like nails

wrinkled palms and fingertips

I really wanted to make Max and Charles' torsos more life accurate but could not be arsed, they all have Lando's body type, aka I've accidentally twinkified Charles and Max lmao

by now you might have noticed that there's no design for Oscar, and as much as I really want to make a siren design for him that would have some pretty heavy lore implications so I'm... hesitant to do so

other people on my sirenification waiting list are:

George Russell and Alex Albon (for the 2019 rookies circle to be complete)

Franco Colapinto (based purely off vibes)

the whole grid really god I'm so ill

for the record Logan is a human in this AU but he IS present fuck you James Vowles

you may have also noticed the papaya version I labeled as McLaren themed (this one is also the highest quality image I have in this thread if you're gonna do any zooming in please do it on this one,,,,)

all throughout writing and drawing I couldn't help but think about another banger siren!Lando fic: Salt Skin by @strawberry-daiquiris! in which Lando has orange slash papaya scales, which I just had to draw honestly

a lot of my design process was also inspired by a piece by @dumbf1sketches (it's somewhere in the pile of other gorgeous art in that post)

bonus underwater version of all of them because it wasn't bright enough for me to feel good about it being at the top but it's still like, the main colour example to my brain

TAGLIST(S)

AU @mintraindrop @cx-boxbox (I know the og post is from actual ages ago but you two were interested so I humbly offer you these crumbs)

ART @santongkabayo @cyclonixi @alto-the-avocado @loquarocoeur

people that put up with my ramblings on dc @lyslsstuff @peppysinc @girlrussell

[4doras]

it will always be you

han taesan x reader

academic rivals to lovers

genre: fluff

wc: 1,455

a/n: i was in a crazy writing mood so enjoy this!! i was planning on starting the anton smau but i felt like writing. this is my first au in a WHILE… so sorry if this has any typos or grammar mistakes since i didn’t proofread it. i don’t know if i’m really happy with this because i’m weirdly scared to publish this 😭 but nevertheless, enjoy reading 💕

You had a test tomorrow and you had been practicing for it for almost 2 weeks. You looked up from your book, checking the time on your digital clock, 2:47AM, it read. Your study session spanned for much longer than you hoped for. You sighed, closing your book and putting your pens back into the case. You tucked yourself into your warm bed, as you let your eyes close themselves.

You woke up four hours later, at the ripe hour of 6AM. You quickly checked your Instagram, seeing that your rival had posted a story, you clicked on it. It was a picture of his face at 5AM, oh how sweet he looked, from the way his hair was slightly disheveled but still kept tidily, his lips, the perfect shade of pink, so soft and kissable. Only if it wasn’t for his personality, only if he treated everyone like he treated you. The way he stupidly raised his eyebrows when his name was called as the top scorer instead of yours, a small smirk arising on the sides of his flawless lips. It provoked so many emotions in you, seeing his face so early in the morning. You put your phone down, took a quick shower, put on simple jewelry, and headed out the door.

You sat down in your seat, not long after, the boy of the hour joined you, weirdly enough, sat next to you. He made his existence more clear, as if you hadn’t been thinking about him the whole morning. The universe must be telling you something.

“You good?” he asked, oddly kind for his usual remarks. He snickered, “You don’t seem like you got enough sleep from the look of it.” His signature smirk plastered on his face. “Oh shut up, I was studying, Taesan.” you rolled your eyes back, thankful he hadn’t spoken about your attitude. “Dropped the last name?” he said, looking at you through the side of his eyes. You swear you heard him say a small “cute” under his breath. The small word made you burn up, why did you feel like this? Right next to him? He started to rummage through his bag, pulling out a little bottle, an energy boost. “I got it for myself, but, seems like you’ll need it more.” he says, propping it on your desk. “Thanks, I guess…” you were confused by the backhanded comment but grateful for the small act of kindness. You opened the bottle, taking the drink like a shot and feeling the taste flow through your throat. With that, you two kept quiet as more people bustled through the door.

You finished your test with a sigh. You made sure you put your name on it, as well as flicking through the papers to make sure you wrote an answer in all the questions and passed in your test. You packed your stuff back into your bag and left, but of course, not before Taesan caught up to you. “Hey, Y/n!” he smiled sweetly, him saying your name in such a way wasn’t good for you. You waited for him, standing still as he ran towards you. “How was the test?” he asked, passing you a candy while walking. A heart shaped candy. You couldn’t get your mind off of it, you thought about it while eating dinner, showering, you couldn’t even focus on your homework because your mind was busy, creating new ideas yet scrapping them, denying the thought of him liking you with a coincidence.

Your phone got a notification from an unknown number.

this is y/n, right?

yeah, who is this?

taesan :)

oh, how’d u get my number?

mmm a little bit of sneaking

???

kiddinggg i was looking at the board and it has the numbers of students who tutor

right. i forgot they did that… did u want tutoring?

nope, just wanted to talk to u, silly

wellllll i’m gonna study a bit so ttyl?

still studying? the test is over

i still wanna study for science, i’m not super familiar with the topic :(

i could help u

u wanna?

sureeee let’s call!!!

alright, but i look a bit weird so don’t judge

i’d never, ur too pretty

…

ok sorry let’s call

You and Taesan called. Something was so comforting about calling Taesan, maybe it was the way his voice sounded, his tone was gentle, much more different than when you two were bickering at school, or the way he helped you and made sure you understood everything well, it all made you feel so at home. Or maybe it was his perfectly sculpted face in juxtaposition with the oversized hoodie he seemed to wear. “Thank you, Taesan, and sorry for keeping you so long…” “No worries, Y/n, it was nice to keep you company. Well, goodnight Y/n, sleep well, yeah?” “Mhm, you too, Taesan.” you smiled at your phone, waving at Taesan as you ended your call, you closed your eyes with ease, smiling into your pillow as you recounted the moments you had with Taesan. Whatever happened to you hating him had somehow faded away, had it turned into love?

As you got into your seat, you saw Taesan comfortably sitting next to you. “Thank you for yesterday.” you smiled. “Hey, I told you, it’s no problem.” Your routine of staying quiet as more people entered the classroom resumed.

You got your math results back, your hands covered the results and in your head, counting down, you removed your hands to see your marks. 78%. 78%? You spent so long studying for your test for not even 80%? You held back tears, excusing yourself to the toilet.

The second you got outside of the school building, you sat on the benches outside, the tears started flowing. You couldn’t believe you spent so much time and energy, staying up for nothing. You felt so upset, how could you forgive yourself? Your moment was cutoff by a voice, Taesan’s voice. “Y/n? Are you okay?” he crouched down by your legs, looking up at you. “Taesan, I did so bad. I spent so long studying on this, for not even 80%? I seriously can’t believe myself.” you sobbed into your hands, as Taesan sat next to you, holding your shoulder. You looked at him, holding the silence as he fixed pieces of your hair, tucking them behind your ears. “Y/n, it’s okay. You did the best you could, and that’s all that matters. This one test won’t discard the work you’ve put in and will put in. Please, don’t worry.” he softly swiped away the tears that streamed down your cheek. He pulled you into a warm hug, his arms wrapping around you, as you rested your cheek on his shoulder, taking in his scent.

You spent a couple minutes with Taesan, walking together so that no one would know you were crying. You re-entered your classroom and took a deep breath. You couldn’t bear spending any more time in that classroom, but you’d do it for Taesan.

After school ended, you got another notification from the unknown number, namely, Taesan. Before you answered his message, you wanted to change him contact.

wait let me change ur contact

ooh, what r u changing it to?

what do u want it to be? because i don’t know honestlyyy

can i ask u a question first?

shoot

can i be ur boyfriend? i mean, i want to at least!! also, sorry i’m asking online and not irl but i couldn’t catch u after school :(

actually? THE han taesan asking to be my boyfriend? (yes)

i thought u hated me

i thought i did too, but i realized it’s probably because i wanted to deny my feelings for u. and i haven’t been able to get u out of my mind

cute. well anyway, u should save me as “super sexy and cute boyfriend”

cute? sure. sexy? hmm

come onnnn pleaseee :)

save me as ”super smart and pretty girlfriend” then

ofc baby

BABH

BAHY

BABY

?? do u not like it

yes

wait no

i mean i love it

i love u, my super smart and pretty girlfriend

i love u, my super sexy and cute boyfriend.

The next day, you immediately went to Taesan, though he wasn't aware of your being. You gave him a small peck on the cheek and that had him turning around. "Hey, my boyfriend." you giggled with a sweet smile that made Taesan's eyes fill with love for you. "Hey, my girlfriend." he said, holding his hand out, waiting for yours to be in it.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Shh! Pt. 2

Summary: The hangovers are very real for Dean and Y/N. Will they notice the artwork on the fridge?

Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warnings: None. This second part is pretty much all fluff too.

Word Count: 2,693 (This part was a bit longer than the first. Sorry!)

A/C: Okay, so the first part of Shh! was actually just supposed to be a one shot, fic request. But I got a fair few requests for a sequel about the morning after, and I wanted to know what happened too. So, here it is. Lol! I had a lot of fun writing the two parts to this little story. Hope you have fun reading them. ❤️

It was requested that I tag @arcannaa if I made a second part. So, here ya go, lovely. Let me know if you'd like to be added to one of the tag lists linked below. ❤️

Part 1 is here || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The Next Morning:

Dean's groan was deep and long and ended in one word. “Fuck.”

“Shh…” Y/N held her head in her hands as she sat up. “Why are you so loud?” She asked, and her voice sounded as dry and cracked as the Sahara. 

“No, you're so loud.” Was Dean's witty rejoinder as he sat up beside her.

They both turned their heads to look at each other and groaned again. Y/N looked around the room and her brow creased with confusion.

“Why am I here?”

Dean grunted. “I'm a little too hungover for an existential crisis.”

Y/N pursed her lips, side eyeing him. “No, idiot. I mean why am I here in your bed? Why aren't I in my own bed?”

Dean rubbed his hand down his face. “Well, your bed is about 2 hours away, which probably explains the sleepover.”

Y/N hummed her agreement and pointed at him, conceding the point. “Yeah, I guess neither of us was in the best shape to drive.” She paused and then scowled. “We didn't, right? I mean, we didn’t drive home.”

She squinted at Dean who was shaking his head. “Nooo…” His tone said that was impossible, but then he tilted his head. “Right? There’s no way we would have been that stupid.”

Y/N shook her head and then stopped when the room started spinning. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “No, we must have taken a cab. We must have.”

It was silent while both of them tried desperately to remember something from the night before.

Dean sat up straight. “Rainbow Connection!” He said suddenly.

Y/N turned to look at him again and one eye brow was raised. “Are you stroking out?”

Dean waved at her. “No, the cab. I remember we took a cab cause I remember being in it and singing ‘Rainbow Connection’.”  He closed his eyes. “I really don’t remember why though.”

Y/N gasped softly, remembering something. “Rambeau.” 

Dean opened his eyes to look at her and his expression was all confusion. “Uh…Rocky II. We just naming Stallone movies?”

Y/N made a sound of disgust. “No, B - E - A - U, Rambeau, not Rambo.” When Dean still just stared at her blankly, she sighed and rolled her eyes. “It was the driver’s name, remember. But you thought he -”

“ - said Rainbow!” Dean finished, snapping his fingers. “Right! That’s when we started singing it.” He nodded, happy with their mental sleuthing, and then he shook his head.

“Man, I hope we gave him a big tip.”

Y/N chuckled and then took a big breath. “K, I need coffee, stat. Like a vat of coffee, like, this is a  hook-it-to-my-veins kinda situation.”

Dean grunted his agreement and they both pushed themselves up from the bed with a painful groan. Dean grabbed Y/N’s wrist as they were leaving the room. “Wait, do you remember…did we talk to Sam last night?”

Y/N just shrugged. “Dude, I have no idea.”

“Huh…I feel like we did.” Dean said quietly as he padded towards the kitchen with Y/N trailing just behind him.

When they got to the kitchen Y/N collapsed onto one of the seats at the table and cradled her head in her hands.

Dean walked to the coffee maker and his face lit up. 

“Oh, thank god for a little brother who gets up at the butt crack of dawn to go running to nowhere in particular. He made the coffee already!” He grabbed two cups and brought them and the pot to the table. 

Y/N inhaled deeply, pulling the aroma of the coffee into her lungs. “Do you have cream?”

Dean made a face. “Cream? God no; this is a black coffee household, Y/N. You should know this.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, of course. Only manly black coffee for the Winchesters. How foolish of me.”

Dean shot her a grin and nodded in the direction of the fridge. “Might be some milk in the fridge.”

Y/N groaned again as she dragged herself up and stumbled blindly towards the fridge. She looked back at Dean as she pulled open the door. “I swear to God it feels like my muscles are about two minutes away from seizing up all together.”

Dean chuckled as Y/N looked into the fridge and shook her head. “There is nothing resembling milk in this fridge.”

“In the back?”

“Dean, there is no ‘back’ to this fridge. You’ve got three beers and leftover pizza that’s harder than the cardboard box it’s in.” She said as she peered inside. As Dean began rummaging around at the coffee station, she picked up a piece of the pizza and banged the crust against the box.

“That’s just sad.” She muttered.

“Score!” Dean called out just as Y/N closed the fridge door. “Found something called Coffee Whitener! Not CoffeeMate, it’s literally just called coffee whitener.”

“Uh…Dean?”

Dean’s face fell into a frown. “Actually, I don’t know how old this is.”

“Dean.”

“Might be from the fifties.” Dean mumbled. “Cause for the life of me I can’t remember Sam or I ever buying -”

“Dean!” Y/N yelled.

Dean grimaced as her shout made his head pound. “What? Jesus, why are you yelling?”

Y/N was pointing at the fridge door. “What the fuck is this?”

Dean set down the coffee whitener and walked over. “What the fuck is what?”

Y/N just kept pointing as Dean came up beside her to see two wrinkled up pieces of paper stuck to the fridge.

As he read the words he felt his heart clench. He read both letters twice.

He looked at Y/N slowly and couldn’t read what her expression was saying. He shook his head. “I - I mean, I dunno. Where did they come from?”

Y/N shrugged. “I don't know, but that’s my handwriting and…that’s yours. Do you…I mean, do you remember writing them?”

Dean shook his head. “No. I don’t remember. But, I mean…it must have…I mean, it had to be some kind of joke, right? Like we were messing around? Just some kind of drunken joke?”

Y/N was looking away from him, but he shrugged again. “I mean, don’t you think?”

She nodded and her face was scrunched up when she looked at him. “Had to be, right?”

He felt his heart plummet even as he nodded. “Right?”

“Yeah, we were just being stupid, fucking around.” She concluded quietly.

He nodded again. “Yeah.”

They were quiet for a minute before Y/N pointed towards the table. “So, did you say something about 1950’s coffee whitener?”

Dean forced a chuckle. “Yeah, come try it out, if you dare.”

They sat at the table and Dean poured them both coffee. In the end, Y/N just took a bit of sugar in hers, not willing to be a guinea pig for the decades old, mostly chemicals coffee whitener. 

Silence reigned between them, neither of them able to push aside the words in the letters. Finally, Y/N couldn’t take the awkwardness and, pushing her coffee cup aside, she stood up.

“I should probably get going. I gotta shower and change and, you know, try to feel like a human again.” She said with a stilted laugh.

Dean nodded. “Yeah for sure. I’ll drive you.”

Y/N waved him down as he started to stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just take the bus. There’s one that comes at 11:00. I’ve taken it before.”

Dean frowned. “Why the hell would you take the bus when I can just drive you.”

Y/N tucked her hair behind her ears nervously. She knew she wouldn't survive a two hour car ride, sitting so close to him but knowing she was never going to get any closer.

...it had to be some kind of joke, right? Dean's dismissive voice echoed in her mind.

So, she shook her head at him. “No, it’s okay. This way you can just rest and feel better. I like the bus. You know, I just put my music on and chill the whole way.”

“Right.” Dean said sardonically, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. “Cause you know, if I drove you, we’d definitely be listening to an audio book about the sixteenth century Christian Reformation. No music in my car.”

Y/N laughed nervously. “No, I know…but…”

Dean just nodded again. “Yeah, okay. Well, have a good two hour bus ride, I guess.”

Y/N smiled. “I will. I’ll uh…I’ll call you.”

“M’kay.”

Y/N cleared her throat. “See ya.” She said with another plastered-on-smile as she left the kitchen.

“Yeah, see ya.” Dean answered quietly.

About an hour later Dean was still sitting at the kitchen table nursing an ice cold black coffee when he heard the bunker door slam. A minute later Sam walked into the kitchen in his running clothes, sweating and still breathing deeply. 

He went to the sink to fill up his water bottle as he looked back at Dean with a smirk. “You look ill.” Dean just grunted and Sam chuckled as he took a sip of water. “Where’s Y/N?” He asked.

“Went home.” Dean answered shortly.

Sam frowned looking towards the fridge where the letters still hung.  “Didn’t you guys see the letters?”

Dean’s head came up quickly and he stared at Sam. “What do you mean? Why do you know about them?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Who the hell do you think hung them up there?”

Dean shook his head, anger in his expression. “Why the fuck would you do something like that? Y/N saw them and freaked.”

“What?”

“I’m telling you. She saw what I wrote and couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Wouldn’t even take a ride home.” Dean said sullenly.

Sam set his water bottle down on the island, hard. “Oh my god!” He growled. “I might actually strangle you both.” When Dean just continued to frown at him, Sam shook his head. “Didn’t you each read the other’s letter? You guys wrote essentially the same thing to each other. Because you’re both so into each other. Jesus Christ.”

He pushed two hands through his damp hair. “I figured once you both saw it written out right in front of you, you’d realize that you’re both a couple of dumbasses!”

Dean shook his head. “No, she didn’t mean what she wrote. She thought it was some kind of drunken joke.”

Sam scowled. “She told you it was just a joke? She remembered writing her letter?”

“No, but I asked if she thought it was a joke and she said yeah, it had to be. Had to be because she has no interest in me like that.”

“Did she actually say that?” Sam asked, speaking over the end of Dean’s sentence, “Or did she just go along with you when you suggested it was a joke, because that’s what she thought you thought?” 

When Dean didn’t answer Sam growled again in frustration. “For fuck’s sake this is ridiculous. I’m just gonna spell it out for you.” He walked over to stand in front of Dean at the table. “Y/N is madly in love with you.”

Dean scoffed, but Sam sliced his hand through the air. “No, shut up. She is in love with you and you are in love with her, and if you asked one single other person who knows you both, they’ll tell you the exact same thing. Because it is glaringly, abundantly, stupidly obvious, you dumbass. Now go find her at the station, tell her the truth and watch how quickly she tells you she feels the same.”

Dean was frowning. “That's not gonna happen.” But he could feel a spark of hope at his brother’s certainty.

Sam just glared. 

He threw up his hands. “Okay, I’ll go.” He stood up and walked towards the door, stopping on the top step to look back at Sam. “But when she rips my heart out and I lose my best friend, you’re gonna be the one who has to deal with me.”

Sam rolled his eyes and pointed. “Go.”

All the way to the bus station, Dean was running through scenarios in his mind. As he parked outside, his watch said 10:50; was she already gonna be on the bus? Would it be like one of those horrible romcom things, where he had to chase her down through the crowd and then confess his love on a bus full of people. And if he did that, was Sam right? Would she love him back, or was it going to end up as - less funny romcom, more tragic farce? 

He had the scenario half imagined in his head, but when he walked through the doors he was reminded that the Lebanon bus station was actually quite small so, no running from terminal to terminal looking for her. There were only two bus stalls outside to begin with, but also, she was sitting calmly on a bench just across from the door.

He walked towards her and her eyes got wide.

Fuck, I can’t do this. Why the fuck am I doing this? Dean thought over and over.

He stopped in front of her and she looked up at him, her face puzzled. “Dean? What are you doing here?”

He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and rocked up on to the balls of his feet; he shrugged. “I don’t know, I just thought…I really wanna give you a ride home.”

Y/N frowned and lifted a hand towards the small ticket office. “I already bought my ticket.”

“Well, get a refund.”

“Why do you want to drive me home so badly?” Y/N asked loudly, frustration tinting her words.

“Why don’t you want me to?” Dean answered even louder.

Y/N let out a huff of air. “I don’t want you to not…I don’t not want…I want not t -” She broke off with a cry of frustration. “Ugh!!”

She looked up at him and her gaze was confused and questioning. “Dean, what is going on here?”

Dean shuffled from foot to foot for a minute, until Y/N started to speak again and he cut her off.

“The letter was true.”

He spoke quietly and he wondered if she’d heard him. He wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to say it again; as it was, he was staring at the ground, his stomach in knots.

“What?”

He shook his head and finally just decided it was all or nothing.

“My letter. What I wrote. It was true. I mean, it was drunken idiocy, but…” He raised his head and looked at her. “It was true.”

“Really?” 

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught relief in her voice, so he smiled at her and gave a resigned nod. 

“Yep. You are my good day.” He said, paraphrasing his letter. “I want kisses from you.” He paused a beat. “And also sex.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry.”

Y/N’s smile was bright and beautiful as she leapt up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank god.” She bit her bottom lip and then quoted her letter. “I hope you will kiss me. All the time.”

Dean felt like his chest might actually burst from happiness as he grasped her waist and pulled her close. 

“I can do that.”

He pulled her tight against him, capturing her lips in a kiss that he’d waited for for a very long time. 

Y/N felt lightheaded with joy and with the headiness of Dean’s kiss. His lips were soft and searching as they pressed tightly to hers, and she opened to him immediately, reveling in the deep groan that tumbled out of him as he sank his tongue deep into her mouth. 

They clung to each other, endlessly kissing, sharing breath and stealing each other's moans. Neither of them were one hundred percent sure they weren’t just in a very vivid dream, but both of them were determined that if it was a dream, they didn’t want to wake up. 

The loudspeaker came on announcing that Y/N’s bus was boarding, but neither of them heard it, and neither of them cared. The ticket agent who’d sold her the ticket called out to her.

“Miss, your bus is leav-”

But her coworker interrupted her. “Shh! Are you crazy? Do you see the man kissing her? Trust me she does NOT want to be disturbed.”

She wasn't wrong.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

[rorywritesjunk]

No longer locked upon the land but free on the rolling waves

You and Buggy come face to face with himself from the past, and while you’re fully accepting that this is your husband as a child, Buggy doesn’t want to accept it.

Rating: PG-13ish, but just due to some swearing.

Warning: Upset kid, upset husband. Reader is way too nice, doesn’t necessarily take husband’s feelings into account as well. This chapter had one of my favorite moments between the Reader and Kid Buggy which was mentioned in the request, and it was a part I wanted to make sure I got just right.

A/N: A combined request. I did a few versions of this story before feeling like it hit the marks I was wanting to hit. Also, I’m just trying to vibe off what I’ve seen of Kid Buggy. I’m no expert. I’d protect that kid with my life. He’s so adorable. I also like the trope of “Meeting your self from another time” and “gets turned back into kid-self”. This is the former, and I know shit about time travel but I just kind of made something up. Also, kelpies. Are they in One Piece? I honestly don’t know but I love kelpies and needed an excuse to mention them. Additional notes: Holy cow, thank you to everyone who's been reading this! I read every comment and tag and it warms my heart so much. I meant for this to be multi-chapter from the start, but I want to give a heads up that this is a short fic, probably no more than 5 chapters but I'm almost thinking of writing more on Buggy and his wife because I've liked what I started with them and have already been thinking of their story. Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6/Epilogue TAGLIST (just let me know if you want to be added!): @lostfirefly @misadventures0fdes @sylum @valen-yamyam16 @dohkyu @fluffybunnyu @skyofsteel @lavalampskyy

Chapter 3

Everything was going great after breakfast for a little bit. The kid was fine to follow you around to help you with your own chores, which right now was collecting anything that needed mending or washing. You had Buggy carry the basket of mending while you made your way across the deck and to the kitchen. The crew was out on deck, and while word got around of some kind of shape shifter on board (your husband was still not happy about your guest), this was the first time most of them were seeing their captain as a child. The kid ignored the staring as long as he could, but you could see it was getting to him.

The final straw was when you watched a crewman lean over to another, hearing him whisper, “He even has the big nose.”

You both heard it because no sooner did he finish his sentence that Buggy dropped the basket he was carrying and rushed over to the crewman, delivering a kick to his crotch. The crewman fell to the ground in pain and you managed to grab Buggy before he could kick him in the face, though a part of you wanted to allow it to happen.

“Don’t talk about my nose!” He shrieked, fighting against you as you hauled him away to the kitchen. You passed the captain on the way, giving him a look as you pulled the kid along. Your husband stood there, confused for a moment before turning to see the crewman on the ground. What just happened?

You sat Buggy down on a chair and knelt in front of him. It was a little surprising to see him crying. You expected more anger, shouting, maybe some punches being thrown. You shouldn’t have been surprised, though. He was a kid with kid emotions. Big fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he clenched his fists. He rubbed his eyes, sniffling loudly.

“I th-thought I was the captain.” He choked out; you reached for one of the napkins left on the table from breakfast and put your hand on his cheek as you gently wiped the tears away. “Why would th-they talk about my nose?”

Your heart broke from that question. As an adult, your husband was still sensitive about his nose, had been since you first met him, but you couldn’t imagine going through childhood with those insecurities. And the fact you explained earlier that he became the captain of this ship just to have someone on the crew mention it so cruelly? It was horrible. 

“Because some of them are idiots.” You told him as you draped the napkin over your shoulder. “And I’ll throw them overboard once I make sure you’re okay. Now, do you want a hug?”

To your surprise he nodded, so you opened your arms and he fell into them, letting his head rest on your shoulder. You sat back on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you as you held him on your lap, rubbing his back slowly as he still sniffled. 

“So… did I miss something?”

You looked back toward the door and sighed when you saw your husband standing there. Kid Buggy ignored him, sniffling as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. You tightened your hold on the kid as you turned your attention back to him.

“One of your crewmen should be thrown overboard, Captain.” You told him, voice calm as you reached up to remove Kid Buggy’s hat so you could stroke his hair. He closed his eyes when you did that, relaxing in your embrace. You knew your husband liked having his hair stroked when he was upset, and you were pleased the kid was no different. “They need to learn when to keep their mouths shut.”

“Huhh…” Adult Buggy scratched the back of his head as he watched the scene in front of him. It was… weird but nice to see you comforting the kid like that. He didn’t remember ever really having that growing up. You were holding the kid so lovingly, not caring that your shirt was getting covered in tears and snot from him being so upset. 

“I’m sorry that idiot talked about your nose, sweetie.” You murmured to the kid in your arms, hugging him tighter. “It wasn’t right of him to do that.” 

Buggy stood there for another few minutes, watching you with him. You even gave the kid a forehead kiss, which the kid seemed fine with. He looked like he felt safe in your arms, and Buggy would know, having been there himself many times when he needed to feel safe and loved. It was just frustrating that he had to wait until meeting you to feel that way, having not ever really had that as a kid on a ship. Yet here you were, by chance now holding his kid self in your arms and comforting him when he was upset. Others would have just laughed about it, telling him to get over it, but you were apologetic to him and it wasn’t your fault it happened.

“Which one?” Adult Buggy asked; you looked up at him. “Which one said it?”

“The one that was on the ground, crying.” You replied as you rubbed Kid Buggy’s back gently. “Throw him overboard.”

Oh, he wouldn’t refuse a request like that from you. He stormed out of the kitchen, and as you tilted the kid’s face up, looking for more tears, you both heard a scream and a splash. You smiled and put your hand on his cheek, thumb stroking gently. You didn’t hear the captain return, but he remained quiet, watching from the doorway.

“No one else is going to say anything like that to you again on this ship, sweetie.” You assured him. “You’re safe with me, okay? I’ll hurt anyone who is mean to you, promise.”

“Okay…” Kid Buggy let his head drop back on your shoulder, sighing as he relaxed. You smiled and hugged him.

“Listen, I think your nose is cute.” You told him; he made a face and glanced up at you. “When I met my husband, it was the first thing I noticed about him and when I told him he was handsome he turned as red as his nose. I thought it was sweet, and to this day I still think it’s endearing.” You giggled at the face the kid was giving you. “What? I swear. I sometimes compliment him just to see how red he’ll get. It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

“You’re so evil.” Your husband grumbled, startling the two of you.  Grinning, you turned to look at him, only to laugh when you saw him glaring at you so you just blew a kiss at him. “Are you saying you only love me for my nose?”

“One of the reasons.” You chuckled. “I also love how passionate you are, and how much you love me. Though your impulsiveness still catches me off guard sometimes, I can appreciate it.”

“I’m not impulsive!”

“You threw Buggy off the ship into the water just yesterday.” You reminded him. To your delight, your husband began to turn red in the face. “But you also stole me flowers a week ago because you saw me wearing a pink dress and you liked how they matched.”

“I’m about to throw you overboard.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as he looked away, his face burning. You knew there was no threat to be had, he just said those things when he was feeling a little too much love from you. Buggy sighed heavily, shoulders dropping. Maybe he would regret offering this, but he was starting to feel a little better about this whole ordeal. “Kid, do you want a proper tour of the ship? I’m pretty sure you’re not a kelpie or anything else, so I think it’s safe for you to see everything.”

Kid Buggy made a face. He had already been around the ship with you, but you nudged him gently. This was at least a start. You wanted the kid to see what he grew up to become. “It’s okay, I think it’ll be fun for the two of you.”

“Can you come with me?” He asked you, clearly not wanting to be too far from you. It was sometimes difficult to think of a child as young as him being on a ship. You just wanted to hold him in your arms forever and protect him from anything that would hurt him, but that wasn’t realistic. Swallowing heavily, you nodded and he stood up from your lap, crossing his arms as he looked at the captain. “Promise you won’t throw me overboard?”

“Don’t give me a reason to.” Adult Buggy shot back, but you gave him that look and he immediately backtracked. “But I’ll fish you out if I accidentally knock you into the water.”

The kid seemed okay with that answer. You got to your feet and smoothed out Kid Buggy’s hair, it was a little smooshed from being against your shoulder. You handed him his hat back next, but when he didn’t take it you put it on his head for him. He made a face when you did that, and all you could do was giggle. You had seen that glare so much recently that you could only find it silly at this point.

The Captain rolled his eyes and started out of the kitchen while Kid Buggy took your hand and followed after him. You let him lead you, and once you caught up to your husband you linked arms with him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He looked away when you did that, mumbling something about needing to uphold an image around the crew. You weren’t really sure what that image was but you didn’t say anything. Once you got to the helm of the ship, the captain pulled away from you and in a dramatic and flashy fashion, spun around and threw his arms open, gesturing wildly to the kid.

“THIS! Is my ship!” He announced to Kid Buggy. “We are the Buggy Pirates, the fiercest and most dangerous crew on the East Blue! No one survives a meeting with us!”

You watched the entire interaction in amusement. The kid was getting into it, mouth running a million miles a minute as he asked Buggy question after question about everything. How long has he been a captain? What was it like being so feared? Was he going to become the next King of the Pirates, for real? 

It was cute and you trailed after them as Buggy led him down below to where some ammo was stored. The Buggy Balls concerned you a little bit, you didn’t want them to fire one off into the town on purpose or accident, and thankfully your husband did not offer a demonstration (though you thought you heard him say something along the lines of “we’ll fire one after the wife’s asleep”) of their destructive power. 

And your husband was eating up the attention from the kid. Adult Buggy was proud to talk about his accomplishments, flashy battles, everything and Kid Buggy was listening with fascination, occasionally looking at you for confirmation that he was being told the truth, and you’d just nod in agreement with whatever your husband was saying.

Once the three of you returned to the deck, Kid Buggy’s attention went to the Jolly Roger on the ship, looking at it in awe. It had a nose like his and people were scared when they saw that flag. That was so cool. With the brief distraction, you gave your husband a kiss on the cheek. 

“I love you, Buggy.” You said, smiling at him as he put his arm around you and tugged you closer. You were happy that the two seemed to be on even footing now. The kid was sassy, of course, but at least your husband didn’t even attempt to throw him overboard during their entire interaction this time. And it was nice to see your husband excited to show off his legacy to someone, even if it was to his child self. It looked like things were getting a bit easier between the two of them.

Looked like. Because no sooner did you think that, Kid Buggy came back to you two with a frown on his face. You immediately thought something was wrong, wondering if someone insulted him again, but he crossed his arms and looked up at Adult Buggy. 

“Where’s Shanks?” Kid Buggy asked. “As a grownup. Why isn’t he on this ship too?”

Oh shit. You looked at your husband. He stormed away last time he was asked that question, but this time he stood his ground, probably because you were right there beside him. His hand was on your shoulder, you reached up to touch it gently. The look on Adult Buggy’s face was a mix of anger and sadness, and you wondered if you needed to butt in and change the subject, but he finally spoke.

“His life went in another direction.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “He’s not on this ship, he’s on his own.”

“What?” Kid Buggy frowned. “We’re not co-captains or anything?” He paused, looked at you then looked back at his adult self. “Are we still friends?”

The innocent question was a stab to your heart, but you couldn’t even imagine what it was like for Adult Buggy. His expression was unchanged, trying to think of a kid-friendly way to explain what happened, but was it right to tell him everything? Weren't there rules about this kind of thing, you don’t eat a butterfly in the past or something or it would change the future? Telling the kid his future was one thing, but about relationships? If he told Kid Buggy how his friendship fell apart, the betrayal, the hurt, could it end up that he changes this kid’s future, and in turn his own? What if he doesn’t become a captain, get his own ship? What if he didn’t meet you?

Adult Buggy took a deep breath before slowly exhaling. He didn’t know how to answer, but he had to say something. Both you and the kid were looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

“He has his own ship.” Buggy repeated. “That’s all.”

Then he pulled away from you and walked away from the two of you, leaving you worried and Kid Buggy confused by the answer.

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 22

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | AO3

-----

Hopper arrives the next morning with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, bustling his way inside and taking the coffee that Steve offers him with a grunt of thanks.

"You sure you don't want to press charges against that asshole?" Hopper asks.

Guess he saw Steve's car, then. The party'd helped clean up the paint on the driveway, but the tailight's still busted.

"Not yet. Might change my mind, depending on how today goes," Steve says.

It's surreal, watching Chief Hopper - former Chief Hopper - sitting in Steve Harrington's living room, drinking coffee. Eddie hasn't seen him since the pictures that circulated after Starcourt, and the guy looks… well. Hopper'd always been rough around the edges, but now he looks like he's just barely coming out of being in pretty rough shape.

He catches Eddie looking, and his eyes narrow for a moment before his gaze softens.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in all this, kid," Hopper says gruffly.

Eddie gives a little shrug. "I'm not."

Steve's head whips around to stare at him, holding his breath like he's waiting for something, and - oh.

"Not a lie, Stevie," he says, offering him a little smile.

"Yeah, I can see that," Steve grumbles. "Just wondering if you're the one who's had a few too many blows to the head now."

Hopper grimaces.

"I'm not saying I'm happy about being a suspected serial killer or nearly dying in the Upside Down, but look, this was going on under my nose this whole time. I'd rather be in the know than oblivious."

"Is it too much to ask for just one of you kids to not be eager to throw yourselves into this?" Hopper asks, but it's clearly the kind of question that doesn't need an answer.

Naturally, Eddie gives him one anyway.

"That's what happens when you give a party like us a real campaign to be a part of," he says, all wide grins and easy bravado and complete disregard for his own nightmares or exactly how many times he was convinced he was going to die.

Hopper looks at him like he's speaking French, then looks back at Steve.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He plays the same game the kids do. He runs their little club now."

"Great," Hopper groans, and Robin gives a little giggle snort.

There's a knock on the door, and even though they're expecting his uncle, Eddie has to fight the urge to duck down and hide.

He wonders when that's going to go away, if it ever will.

But sure enough, Steve comes back with Uncle Wayne in tow, who does a double take at seeing Hopper.

"Jesus Christ, Jim," his uncle says.

"Never thought you'd see my ugly mug again, huh?" Hopper asks with a little grin.

"It has been a lot quieter around with your occasional midnight calls," Uncle Wayne returns, taking it in stride.

Hopper snorts. "Bringing this one back to get him out of trouble's a far cry from what we've got now."

They turn to look at Eddie, and he flushes.

"Yeah, thank you, we're all aware I'm in a lot deeper than some illicit substance charges," he mutters. "Can we talk about what we're going to do to get me out of it?"

Hopper drains the rest of his coffee. "You and I are walking into the station together."

"Wait," Steve says, followed immediately by Robin asking, "What?"

"Are you guys ready for that?" Eddie adds.

Hopper snorts. "Ready to what, come back from the dead? Is anyone ready for that? Look, Murray says his contacts are as ready now as they're going to be in a few weeks, and I'm not waiting longer than that."

Eddie can hear the disdain dripping off the word contacts, and it makes him wonder once again who exactly this Murray guy is.

"If you walk in there, they're going to care a whole lot more about that than about Eddie," Steve says.

Hopper lifts his empty cup at him in a parody of a cheers. "That's the idea. They want a story, we give them a story."

"So, uh. What is our story, exactly?" Robin asks.

"I got injured really badly in the fire at Starcourt, and it wasn't until the government agents were doing clean up that I got found. I've been in a coma since then. I come back into town, and who do I find but Eddie Munson hiding out in my old cabin in the woods. I get him to tell me what happened, and convince him to turn himself in," Hopper says.

"And what am I supposed to say happened?" Eddie asks.

"Joyce says the truth, as much as possible. Henry Creel attacked you and Chrissy, and you barely made it out. You were hiding from both Creel and Jason Carver's little mob while Creel kept killing. You stumbled on this crew investigating, Creel attacked, and you and Steve fought him off right before the earthquake hit. That's what you told them at the hospital, isn't it?"

"Something like that, yeah," Steve says. "I don't think I said who it was, but I can't really remember. I wasn't exactly in top shape."

"Then Powell knows that much already. Callahan can hardly find the nose on his face, but Powell's probably been putting together some of the pieces. Eddie ran from the hospital when he got worried that Carver would find him there, and he's been hiding ever since," Hopper finishes.

"That… that could work, yeah," Eddie admits.

"And as long as you're vague, none of it will show up as a lie, Eds," Steve agrees.

Hopper fixes him with a sour look. "You are going in there to file a report about the damage to your property, and that's only because I know you won't stay home. You don't have to press charges, but you're putting that report on the record, and then you're sitting your ass down in that waiting room. Don't even think about coming back with me and Munson unless I call you, understand?"

Steve's expression has steadily been growing pissier, and now he just glares at Hopper. "Really, you're trying to make me stay on the bench now?"

"Someone has to, apparently!" Hopper retorts.

"If you think I'm not going to be right there with my soulmate-" Steve starts.

"If you think I'm letting you-" Hopper says over him.

"You can't treat me like I'm a kid!" Steve insists.

"I can if you're acting like one!" Hopper shouts.

"Jim!" Uncle Wayne cuts in sharply.

Hopper turns his glare onto him, but Uncle Wayne just stares right back at him, unimpressed. There's a stand off for a moment - Eddie looks between Steve and Robin, to find Steve deflating a little and Robin's expression etched in confusion.

After a moment, Hopper cuts his eyes away, back towards Steve. "Come with me for a minute," he says gruffly, stomping over to the other side of the room.

Steve tosses a conflicted look at Robin and Eddie, but goes with him, looking confused.

Uncle Wayne watches them for a moment, then, seemingly satisfied, ruffles Eddie's hair and says, "Coffee in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, uh, mugs in the cabinet above the sink," Eddie says, a little thrown.

Robin drops down onto the couch, and Eddie plops next to her, both of them just watching the quiet, terse conversation Steve and Hopper are having.

"I didn't know Steve and Hopper were that close," Eddie mutters.

Or, well - he knows what he assumed when he heard Steve talking about Hopper's adopted daughter, that it was his parents who were cozy with the chief of police, but clearly he was wrong.

Robin leans over, elbows propped up on her knees. "Steve said Hopper used to come by and check on him sometimes, in between things, but I'm not sure they were really, like, close?"

Eddie's brow furrows. "Then what's with the…" He gestures at Hopper awkwardly clapping Steve on the shoulder.

Robin grimaces a little. "Steve kind of made Joyce Byers cry when they got back."

"What? How?" And why the hell would that endear Steve to Hopper?

"He tried to apologize for not having a handle on things here." Robin rests her chin in her hand. "Said he knew they were counting on him, and he was sorry he let them down."

Of course he did. Eddie closes his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Steve."

Robin makes a little disgruntled sound that he's going to assume is agreement.

"We all made it out, though," Eddie says. "How is this time worse than the others?"

There's a thoughtful hum. "The gates have always been closed, before. I mean, kind of seems like they always keep coming back anyway, but at least before it felt like maybe this time it could really be it, it could be the end. We don't have that, now."

Now they know Vecna is still out there, biding his time. It's hard to imagine anything else, for Eddie, but if the others had actually thought it was over, had a bit of a reprieve - yeah, he can see how this would hit harder.

"And Steve is used to being the one who gets hit the hardest," Eddie says slowly.

But not this time. This time, he and Max got hurt, too.

"Mrs. Byers told Steve and Nancy that she knew she was leaving the kids in good hands when she left," Robin says. "So I think it made her realize how much pressure she put on them, and now her and Hopper feel guilty about it. Plus Hopper found out about the whole Steve being tortured last year thing."

Eddie manages not to wince, but only because it's Robin saying it. He bites his lip, weighing how much he wants Robin's opinion on this against talking about Steve's nightmares behind his back, but - it's Robin.

"I don't want him to have to be questioned with me," he says, all in a rush. "He says it'd be fine, but I'm worried it'll be too much like - that."

Robin's knee starts jiggling, and he leans against it to steady her.

"If their plan works, he won't have to," she says.

"But what if it doesn't? Do you really think he's just going to be fine?"

For a moment, he's not sure she's going to answer, but then she whispers, "No."

Shit, he knew it.

"Can't we do something?" he asks, a little desperate. "It's not worth it, Robin."

He pretends he doesn't know that sentence would be just as true if he'd said I instead of it.

He pretends even harder that she can't hear it anyway.

Robin watches him, something wary and considering in her eyes. She isn't distant, but she's just a touch more closed off than he's gotten used to.

It throws him for a moment before he realizes that Steve must have told her about how their conversation went last night. About how he broke her soulmate's heart, and here he is now acting like he has any right to try to protect it, like she and him are still a team when it comes to keeping Steve safe.

He almost pulls back, has a stammered withdrawal on the tip of his tongue, when her shoulder presses against his.

"Steve thinks it is," she says simply, like that's enough.

"Robin," he starts, but he doesn't know what else to say to that.

She's shaking her head like she's cutting him off anyway, though, so maybe it doesn't matter.

"I don't understand it," she says bluntly. "You want him, and he wants you, and frankly I think you need to get over Steve having two soulmates. But Steve says I'm being unreasonable, and I recognize that he may have a point given our current circumstances."

Eddie's temper flares. "That's easy for you to say," he snaps, only barely remembering to keep his voice down. "You have another soulmate out there, too. You don't know-"

He cuts off, and her eyes flash.

"What, Eddie? What don't I know?" she hisses.

"How it feels to know someone is the only one for you, but you're not the only one for them!" he hisses back. "Platonic, romantic, he's the only soulmate I've got, and I'm not-"

He cuts off again. It's never been a lie when he thought to himself that he loves the part of Steve that is Robin, or that he loves Robin, or that he wants both of them in his life, or even that he likes that Steve has another soulmate and that it's Robin.

But when he tries to tell himself he doesn't care that Steve has two soulmates and he has one, or that it doesn't affect him at all -

That part is a lie.

Their circumstances, as Robin put it, have meant that he's gotten in deep with them very quickly, that it's forced him to rapidly be okay with a scenario he never imagined, but it also means he hasn't had any time to really come to terms with it.

"I'm trying, okay?" he says. "I only have so much brain space, and it's been a little occupied with not dying and dodging murder charges."

She still looks a little puffed up at him, and for a moment he has the absurd thought of the two of them like a pair of cats, hissing and spitting at each other, and that - he shrinks in on himself, just a little, and she deflates.

"Don't do that," she grumbles. "Make yourself all small and sad. I'm not Steve, you can't sway me with that."

It kind of seems like he can, but he takes the tentative peace instead of teasing her about it.

"Thank you," he says instead.

Robin narrows her eyes at him. "For what?"

His brain shorts out for a moment.

"Uh," he says intelligently. "Fighting nice with me?"

She doesn't soften, exactly, but she does look a little sad.

"I don't - know how to do this," he admits. "I've never - okay, I've never a lot of things, but this." He gestures at him and Steve, and then him and her, and then him and her and Steve. "It means a lot that it's not screaming matches or burning bridges."

She blows out a huff of air. "Fine. You've got a reprieve, Munson, figure your shit out or I'm coming back for you. Now shut up, and let's keep you out of jail and Steve from getting handcuffs slapped on him."

–

Hopper drives him to the police station in silence.

Well, mostly silence. There's terrible music playing over the radio, and Hopper had initiated some stilted conversation going over their plan again, but after that?

Zilch.

Fortunately, it isn't a terribly long drive.

When they get there, though, Hopper shuts off the engine but doesn't get out yet.

Eddie manages to resist the urge to sit on his hands to keep himself from fidgeting.

"You didn't come all this way just to actually arrest me, right?" he jokes.

Or he tries to joke, but he's pretty sure it comes out a little nervous.

"What? No, come on," Hopper grumbles. "Look, I just want to make sure you know that you're walking out of there, all right? We go in together, we're leaving together."

"Why?" Eddie blurts out.

Hopper looks incredulously at him.

"Why are you doing this for me?" Eddie clarifies. "You guys used to bust me all the time, and I know you went lenient on me, but-"

"Munson," Hopper cuts off with a growl. "I'm not doing this for you. We're doing this because you didn't kill anyone, and you're stuck in this now. So you should shut up and accept it."

Eddie considers if it's worth pushing his luck.

Hopper apparently correctly interprets the look on his face, because rolls his eyes and shoves the door open, storming out and leaving Eddie scrambling to undo his seatbelt and follow him.

His uncle's truck is already there, and so is Steve's BMW, smashed tail light and all.

He lingers at the door, just briefly, trying to talk himself up - but then Hopper grabs the back of his shirt collar and yanks him inside.

Eddie's heart is pounding, and he automatically scans the room - sees his uncle talking to Flo, sees Steve leaning back in a chair with a folder in front of him, feels it calm his nerves just a little.

"Heard you lot were looking for the Munson kid," Hopper announces.

The station goes silent.

Eddie raises his hands up. "Well, officers, looks like you finally caught this outlaw."

Somewhat predictably, chaos erupts.

Callahan is struggling to bolt up and pull his gun at the same time, shouting, "On the ground, now!"

Flo is yelling, "His hands are up you idiot, don't you dare draw that weapon in here!"

Steve is scrambling to his feet, looking like he's going to bodily shove himself between Callahan and Eddie.

Hopper gets there first, though, stepping half in front of Eddie with a sigh.

"Powell?" he calls.

"Yeah, Chief?" Powell responds instinctively.

Hopper bares his teeth in something that might be a grin, nodding at him. "Not anymore. How about we talk in your office?"

"Seems best to me," Chief Powell agrees, then shouts, "Hey hey! All of you get back to work, I'm handling this."

Powell leads them back into the office, shutting the door behind them. Eddie glances back before he does, and can see absolutely no one getting back to work.

Eddie drops into one of the chairs, ready for more dramatics, but Powell isn't even looking at him.

Rude. How is he supposed to cover his nerves now?

"We thought you were dead, Jim," Powell says quietly.

"So did I, for a while," Hopper replies.

"What happened?" Powell asks.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at him. "You want the whole truth?"

Which is not at all what they agreed on, and Eddie sits up in alarm, but Hopper waves a hand at him.

"This have anything to do with Hawkins Lab again?" Powell asks tiredly.

Hopper looks at him pointedly.

Powell grimaces, sitting in the chair behind the desk. "Bare minimum, Hopper, I'm talking as few details as possible."

"You know Kline was into some shady shit. Turns out it was foreign shady shit. The Russians got real pissed off when they found out I was a part of blowing up their little copycat Hawkins Lab under the mall. I've been their guest up until a few weeks ago."

"Shit." Powell scrubs a hand over his face, looking at Hopper with obvious concern. "Jim-"

"It's done." Hopper pulls an envelope out of the inside of his jacket and tosses it on the desk. "What's important now is these murders."

"Let me guess." Powell says, nudging the envelope towards himself like it might blow up. "More Hawkins lab?"

"One of its former employees," Hopper says. "Henry Creel."

Powell looks up. "As in the Creel murders? The kid whose father killed their whole family?"

"Whole family but him," Hopper says. "He ended up working in the lab, until it shut down. Twisted little shit like that, no where to get out his sick little urges?"

"We got ourselves a serial killer," Powell says.

Hopper taps the envelope. "Employee record's all in there."

Powell rubs at his jaw, then finally looks at Eddie. "How'd you get involved?"

Eddie slouches down. "He wanted Chrissy. I didn't - I couldn't-"

"Wrong place, wrong time," Hopper cuts in. "Munson barely got out of there alive. He's been hiding this whole time."

"I knew what it looked like, okay?" Eddie snaps. "Carver and his crew were gunning after me. I tried to talk to him, to tell him I didn't do it, but he wouldn't stop. Said he was going to make sure I got what I deserved. It's why I left the hospital."

Powell leans forward a little. "How did you end up in the hospital?"

Eddie swallows. "Some of my friends were out in the woods where I was hiding, they found me. But Creel found us, too. He went after Max. Harrington and I tried to stop him, but-"

He shrugs, and lifts up his shirt to flash his bandages and healing injuries, then drops it down.

"Found him hiding out in my cabin when I got back," Hopper says dryly. "Munson's soulmate is ready to prove he's telling the truth, Powell. You really want to put two kids through that?"

Eddie jerks up, glaring at Hopper in betrayal - he thought they were both pretty on the same page about not involving Steve in this - but Powell just grimaces.

"Do I want to tell Lillian Harrington that her son waived his soulmate rights and we questioned him without a lawyer? Hell no."

Eddie gapes at him.

Powell fixes him with a look. "Steve Harrington carried you into that hospital, despite his injuries being so bad he collapsed right after. He was adamant about not pressing charges against Jason Carver, and now he's out there dithering about filing a report while you're telling me there's a soulmate waiting in the wings to swoop in? I wasn't born yesterday."

Eddie puffs himself up a little, ready to insist that Steve had nothing to do with this - as soon as he can figure out how to say it without lying - but Powell just waves a hand at him, almost exactly the same way Hopper'd done just a few minutes ago.

"I told Steve, you're not our top suspect anymore. We just wanted to ask you some questions."

Eddie shifts his weight. "And here I was getting used to being Hawkins Most Wanted."

Hopper groans. "Cut that shit out, kid."

Eddie looks back and forth between them. "So that - that's it? I can go?"

"I would suggest you don't leave town, but yes, you're not under arrest," Powell says, finally opening the envelope and looking through it. "Not a bad idea if you both make a statement I can give to the press, though."

Hopper hums. "How soon can they release it?"

Powell snorts. "Story like this? We're looking at six o'clock news tonight, front page tomorrow morning."

Hopper looks at him. "Kid."

Eddie fidgets with his wrist brace. He wants to ask if his uncle can come back - he wants to ask if Steve can come in, too, but he feels even more guilty about that, and he doesn't want to risk it even if Powell did say they wouldn't be questioning him.

So he sits up a little straighter and nods. "Yeah. I can do that."

–

When they're done, Hopper escorts him out of the station with one hand on his back, Uncle Wayne and Steve flanking him.

He can't help the choked laugh that bubbles up - he feels like a rockstar, getting ushered away from paparazzi by his security team.

"You should get out of here and lay low," Hopper says outside the station. "Press should be here soon. I'll stay, answer a few questions."

He heads back into the station, leaving Eddie outside with Uncle Wayne and Steve.

There's no one else out there, but the skin on the back of his neck prickles.

It's the longest he's stood outside in the middle of town in weeks.

Steve scrubs a hand over his jaw. "I'm gonna stay with Hopper," he says.

I don't think he should have to do it alone, Eddie hears, and he can't help but give a little snort at his soulmate's soft heart.

Like Eddie himself isn't just as bad.

"Here," Steve says, holding something out.

Eddie automatically reaches out to take it, and a key is pressed into his hand.

"Everyone's probably going to want to come over," he says. "You guys can let yourselves back in. Eds, I think there's lasagna in the freezer if you want to heat it up?"

"Yeah, it was there when I got the bacon out this morning," Eddie agrees, purposefully not looking at Uncle Wayne.

He doesn't want to see what his uncle's face is doing about him and Steve discussing what's in their freezer.

Steve's freezer, shit.

"You don't have to give me your key, man, Robin or someone'll let us in," Eddie says.

Steve's expression falls, just a little, but then his chin tilts back up. "No," he says softly. "That's yours. You can - I want you to stay. You don't have to, since you're not a fugitive, but I want you to."

Eddie's face heats up so fast he feels almost dizzy.

It feels stupid, knowing Steve, but somehow he hadn't planned on Steve wanting him to stay, too.

He risks sneaking a look at his uncle, who's looking back at him with his eyebrows raised and a little smirk.

"Course I'll stay," Eddie manages to get out. "At least until you get tired of me."

Steve brightens, then rolls his eyes. "Not going to happen," he replies, then seems to remember that Uncle Wayne is standing right there, because he turns to him. "You'd be welcome to stay, of course. I mean, Dustin kind of takes over one of the guest rooms whenever he can, but we have a second one."

A second one that no one's using, because Eddie's been sleeping with Steve, and now he's pretty sure his face couldn't get any redder.

He hopes that his uncle doesn't pick up the implications that Steve clearly isn't aware he's laying down, but unfortunately, Eddie can see Uncle Wayne's little smirk grow.

Still, he doesn't say anything about it.

"Thank you," his uncle says gruffly. "But I'm good at the hotel."

Steve heads back inside after Hopper, and Eddie follows his uncle to his truck.

"Not a word, old man," Eddie grumbles.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Uncle Wayne replies.

That doesn't stop him from laughing at him on the drive back, though.

Sure enough, Robin and Dustin are already there, and it's not long before everyone else shows up.

Including Joyce Byers, who hugs him long and tight and makes him have to excuse himself to go get the lasagna out of the freezer so he doesn't burst into tears.

Hopper and Steve both end up live on the six o'clock news. Chief Powell leads the press conference, and Hopper begrudgingly answers a handful of questions. He gives the coma story, talks about working with a private investigator friend to find out what happened during the time he was missing, reports that he has no current plans to retake the mantle of Chief of Police.

Hawkins has a fine one in Chief Powell, apparently, and Hopper wants to be with his family for now.

Chief Powell gives a brief update on the murder case, reporting that Eddie is no longer considered a suspect, and they have new evidence that points to Henry Creel, including several witnesses to the attacks.

Steve steps in only briefly to identify himself as one of them, stating that he was attacked by Henry Creel as well and can positively identify him. When asked how he survived, he shrugs and says he helped his friends fight him off, that it wasn't the first time they've all been in a dangerous situation.

The story ends with a picture of Eddie himself, the reporter stating again that no charges have been filed against him, and that -

That's it.

Eddie almost doesn't know what to do with himself.

The next few days are weird.

He still stays inside, most of the time, but he does go out a couple of times. With his uncle to get dinner, with Steve to the auto store to get a new tail light, with Hopper to sign a couple of more things at the station. Just enough to ease back into it, to remind the town that fuck you, he's still here.

Andy Johnson and Eric Carson stop by and apologize.

To Steve, which makes him all pissy, but Eddie thinks is frankly hilarious.

They promise they left right after they finished talking to Steve and Robin that night, and they had no idea that Jason was going to come back and mess with his car. They're not going to have anything to do with him until he gets his head back on straight.

Privately, he's not convinced Jason ever had his head on straight, but he doesn't do more than waggle his eyebrows significantly at Steve from where Andy and Eric can't see him.

Besides that, things are quiet.

Even though Eddie was kind of expecting something - there's no sign of Jason.

Up next: Eddie gets more orders to sort his shit out, so okay fine he guesses he has to

-----

Part 23

Tag list (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

[nightghoul381]

Ellis Twilight ~ Main Route Blind Love Chapter 22

Disclaimer for route warnings | Masterlist

Additional Content Warnings: None

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Part 1

Roger: “Little lady.”

I turned around and Roger was making a gesture for me to come over to him.

Kate: “I’ll be right back.”

As I took a step forward, Ellis gently tugged on my sleeve.

Ellis: “…If you kiss me, that’s fine. I’ll wait here for you.”

Kate: “…”

(I never thought I’d be asked for a kiss, but…)

Kate: “…Okay.”

When I looked up, Ellis chuckled because he was farther away than I thought.

Ellis: “You won’t be able to reach from there.”

(He’s so tall…)

His broad shoulders, long arms, chiseled jaw, shapely eyebrows, and lips—Every part of him was masculine, no soft spots whatsoever, and it made my heart race.

Ellis bent down a little, but I still couldn’t reach him, so I stretched onto my toes.

Seeing Ellis’ face at eye-level was unfamiliar and heat gathered in my cheeks.

Ellis: “Fufu, not yet?”

Kate: “Wait just a bit longer.”

Ellis: “That’s fine. It’s fun watching your face while you try your best up close, Kate.”

Kate: “Okay, I’m ready….”

In the end, to hide my embarrassment, I pulled Ellis’ face closer and kissed him on the cheek.

Ellis: “My cheek…?”

Kate: “…Was that wrong?”

Ellis: “It’s your first time, so it’s okay.”

Ellis: “Well, I’ll wait.”

Ellis disappeared through the door.

(…What should I do? I’m so happy.)

Even though I’ve been aware that I’ve been at the mercy of Ellis’ selfishness ever since he came to save me,

When I think back to the frustration I felt when I tried to touch Ellis’ heart but couldn’t,

Even though he was selfish, I couldn’t help but find him endearing.

When I stopped hearing the footsteps going up the stairs, I turned to Roger.

Kate: “Is there something you don’t want Ellis to hear?”

Roger: “Come closer.”

Kate: “Uh…um.”

Roger: “I won’t do anything. I don’t think Ellis was just bragging when he said I’d get stabbed.”

After saying that, Roger came up to me…

Roger: “I said I’d tell you if you won Ellis’ heart.”

Part 2

Roger: “I said I’d tell you if you won Ellis’ heart.”

(…!)

--Flashback—

Roger: “In the case of Ellis… it’s simply that I have a personal attachment to that curse.”

Roger: “Yeah. To the point where I can’t sleep well unless he’s properly happy.”

Kate: “Why is that?”

Roger: “That’s a secret.”

Roger: “Everyone has something to hide. To reveal it, you have to pay a certain price, don’t you?”

Kate: “…What would I have to pay in exchange for you to tell me?”

Roger: “Let’s see… What if you could win Ellis’ heart?”

--End Flashback—

I remembered what he’d said jokingly before.

(Why does Roger care so much about Ellis..?)

But things have changed a bit since then.

I’d uncovered Ellis’ past and heart, which were hidden in the secret box, and decided to accept it all.

(Maybe that’s enough now.)

Kate: “You don’t have to say it, right?”

Kate: “I learned that Ellis has a past that he doesn’t want to reveal…”

Roger: “It seems like you’ve had a lot on your mind when it comes to Ellis.”

Roger: “In that case, please listen to me as fairy tale keeper.”

Kate: “Will talking about it cause you pain, Roger?”

Roger: “I accept the past as the past. What’s important to me is the future.”

I felt relieved to see Roger smiling and straightened my back.

Kate: “Alright, I’ll talk to you as fairy tale keeper.”

Roger: “Okay.”

Then, Roger began to tell me about why he cared about Ellis.

Roger: “Actually, Ellis isn’t the first person I’ve met with the ‘Curse of Thorns.’”

Roger: “I was actually acquainted with the person who had the curse before Ellis.”

Roger continued, narrowing his eyes as if he was reminiscing.

It was a tragic story—more painful than I could have imagined.

Part 3

It was a tragic story—more painful than I could have imagined.

Roger had committed a terrible betrayal against the pervious person with the “Curse of Thorns”…

The previous person met a tragic end, as per their destiny.

Roger: “…Because of that, I want Ellis to be happy.”

(“The curse of Thorns.”—Ellis’ fate, his end…)

The sudden thought made my heart flutter.

Kate: “What is the fate of someone with the curse of thorns?”

Roger: “According to royal records, they will be ‘destroyed by justice’. It’s a pretty vague description…”

Roger: “In ‘The Thorn Princess’, the prince’s sword cuts the thorns that cover the sleeping beauty to shreds, right? I guess it’s an analogy to that.”

Kate: “Roger, what happened to your acquaintance, the previous curse holder…?”

Roger: “…He was shot to death in the midst of overwhelming injustice.”

(…)

Taking a life is an undeniable ‘crime’.

It was true that Ellis was doing something sinful.

That’s what he does as a job.

And… it’s the way he loves.

(But alone on the hill at dusk, I rejoiced in the eternal happiness of the person I loved…)

(I can’t help but want to protect Ellis, he’s the only one capable of such devoted and crazy love.)

(…Is that bad?)

Someone with the desire to punish him for his crimes would one day bring down their sword on him.

When I thought about that day, my heart felt like it was being crushed.

(…Before that end comes.)

(I want it to end happily.)

The thought felt quite natural.

(What?... I’m thinking the same way as Ellis.)

I wanted to know more about Ellis, so I desperately followed him.

When I finally realized that we had arrived at the same place, I was overwhelmed with emotions that I couldn’t put into words.

(Now I understand why Ellis hid that photo.)

(--Anything that clouds the happiness of loved ones should just disappear from this world.)

Kate: “I wish I could change Ellis’ fate.”

As I muttered this, Roger narrowed his eyes in amusement.

Roger: “It’s said that ‘fate’ is fate because it can’t be changed…”

Roger: “But I believe there’s a possibility for anything.”

Part 4

Roger: “It’s said that ‘fate’ is fate because it can’t be changed…”

Roger: “But I believe there’s a possibility for anything.”

Those words gave me a push and made me come to my senses.

When we exchanged glances, Roger’s expression looked happy.

Kate: “Roger… Do you feel the same way as me?”

Roger: “Do you care?”

Roger: “…If you get closer, I can teach you, little lady.”

Was he poking fun?

Or maybe Roger really was thinking the same thing I was right then.

But, either way, I was certainly encouraged by his supportive gaze.

Roger: “Would you like for the two of you to overcome his destiny?”

Kate: “I want to overcome it.”

(I want to paint a new future.)

Roger: “Then let’s see what you can do.”

--

When I left the basement, it was just beginning to get light outside.

(I was in that coffin for so long and my sense of time was dulled, so I had no idea.)

(It was before dawn when I returned to Crown Castle.)

As I gazed at the sky, I squinted my eyes as a figure illuminated by the morning light approached me.

Ellis: “…I was able to ‘wait’.”

***CHOICES***

1. I'm sorry I'm late

2. Excellent

**3. Thank you for waiting +4 +4**

–

Kate: “Thank you for waiting.”

Ellis: “You’re welcome. But I was hoping you’d finish up sooner.”

As if he’d been waiting for it, Ellis hugged me tightly.

Ellis: “What were you talking about?”

Kate: “About your destiny, Ellis.”

I felt there was no need to dodge the question.

Honestly, it seemed as though Ellis already knew about his fate.

Ellis: “Oh, that’s what you were talking about.”

Kate: “Aren’t you surprised?”

Ellis: “I’ve had a little chat with Roger about it before, but… it seemed to remind him of something unpleasant.”

Ellis: “Since then, I try not to touch on it too much.”

Kate: “…Aren’t you scared for yourself, Ellis?”

Part 5

Kate: “…Aren’t you scared for yourself, Ellis?”

I stared at Ellis’ face, thinking that he might have been able to answer my question.

Ellis: “Hmm, not really.”

Ellis: “Curses and destinies don’t really make sense to me…”

Ellis heads toward the room, touching the windowsill with his fingertips.

I started walking next to him.

Kate: “Well… Ellis, I want your last moments to be your happiest ones.”

Ellis: “……”

Ellis pondered my words for a moment.

Ellis: “…What kind of end would be happy for me? I’ve never really thought about it.”

It was an expected response for Ellis, since he’d left his own feelings and heart behind.

(Even though he cares so much about other people being happy.)

(Ellis doesn’t think about himself at all.)

Kate: “Let’s find the greatest happiness together, Ellis.”

Ellis: “…Yeah.”

Ellis: “I feel like I can find it if I’m with you, Kate.”

When Ellis smiled happily, my heart was filled with joy and I couldn’t stop grinning.

…And then, as if something had just occurred to him, Ellis narrowed his eyes a little maliciously.

Ellis: “I think I’ve already thought of something that will make me happy.”

(Huh, already?)

Kate: “What is it? Tell me.”

Ellis’ face approached me as if peering at me.

Ellis: “I want a reward for being able to ‘wait’.”

Kate: “…A reward…?”

As I tilted my head, I was surrounded against the wall with his arms like before, and I could only see Ellis.

Kate: “Reward, but… I don’t have anything right now.”

Ellis: “If you’re the one who gives it to me, anything will be fine.”

Kate: “Maybe we could kiss like before…or something?”

A heat spread across my cheeks at saying the best thing that came to mind.

Ellis: “…Hmm…Okay.”

Ellis nodded happily and my heat beat sweetly.

(My heart feels like it’s going to burst…)

I stretched up and our lips touched for just a moment.

Like a light snow, the sensation disappeared in the blink of an eye…

As soon as I tried to move away, a hand reached around my head and pulled me back toward him—

Ellis: “…It’s not enough after all.”

Ellis: “Don’t leave me.”

Next Chapter

[whateverthought]

House Targaryen circa. 135 After Conquest

The next generation of Targaryens per Kass_tanie's 'Red Flame Dragon Empress', drawn with inspiration from @littlest-gemini's family tree and busts.

Both are really Great, this is your sign to check them out!

unnecessary details under cut

Okay, waaay too much thought went into this.

I didn't want to draw characters who had actors because that would be in my head, making them look as close to the real life people, and as the story is Show Canon more than book, I would not be able to get the faces out of my head. Also I was only really interested in the kids. (I called them 6, 3, 2, and Corwyn as I was writing this out, based on group size)

Now, Kass_tanie has graciously given physical descriptions in the notes of one of their chapters, describing which kids have whose eyes and hair of Rhaenyra and Alicent's kids but other than some passing details, the rest are mostly assumed. But everyone's related so I had to decide what was similar between the kids.

Which I put into categories, Alicent/Rhaenyra/Velaryan/Pentos, and what was being separated? Eyes (Color went with shape), Nose, and Ears.

I gave each group their own shade of purple but let them all have the same Live Action White Hair.

Corwyn and the 3 siblings(Laena's) had the same Nose because Laenor and Laena were siblings.

Helaena was described as looking just like Rhaenyra but with Alicent's coloring and Aelyie was described as looking just like Rhaenyra but with Alicent's Hair Texture. So they have the most similarities.

Daeron and Haerrold are twins but they took after different moms, even still I tried to give them the same head shape and Ears.

Ironicly Aemon ended up as the most Alicent-facing child with her Hair, Nose, and Ears.

If you look you can see what each person shares with different people in their family! There's also outliers, like Corwyn's Lannister Green Eyes and the 2 siblings' (Daemon's) Pentos Nose.

I gave Daemon's kids longer faces as thats how I imagined Daemon and Matt Smith does have a thin face...

I also gave the 6 (Rhaenicent) darker-than-pale skin tones since its mentioned 'the Essos Sun darkened the skin' of the characters like Alicent, Rhaenyra, and their Sworn Dad-Knight.

I also had to go back to see how each character was described and if they had a hairstyle. Corwyn is said to look just like Corlys, Rhaena is described as having shaved sides and a "Man's Bun". Aegon (3) is described with braides and thankfully Aelyrie is said to have two braids. Thats how I saw her in my head, little Pippin Longstocking. The rest I got from the Family Tree we get in the later chapters. I also spent days attempts several hairpieces and accessories but God I could not get them to work. The only one to survive was Helaena's headband type deal but I could not detail it. I also experimented with tiny details, like the Edges design on Aegon (3) or Daena's braids being hearts or Aemon and Helaena having more copper highlights because I wanted them to have redder hair.

The color of words was decided based on Alliance. Aemma and Viserys have no side. Laenor is Velaryan but also Targaryen so Red in Blue, Laena, symbolic of her life now, has the same colors but inverted. She's a Targaryen now but they'll always be siblings. Daemon is the "Black Team" so he uses more black than red, the opposite of Laena's Targaryen kids. Rhaenyra is the 'Golden One' so she's Targaryen red encased in Gold, just like her wife. But their kids are inverted, raised in Tolos but now they're Playing the Game as Targaryens. And they each use different shades because they're different flavors of Targaryen. The Red in Daemon's is different than the Red in Rhaenyra's which is different than the Red and Black of Laena's and her kids.

[penultimatefan02]

A Penultimate Pen Theory.

Recently, @pentition posted a very insightful and thoughtful analysis regarding Pen’s potential future as a core romance candidate in an upcoming game. This gave me food for thought about Pen's future direction and how his past relationship with the Sandrock builder could come into play, or whether he should find love with a playable character in an upcoming game.

When I think about Pen’s future, I’m limited by the few crumbs Pathea has offered us to theorize about his history and motivations. It’s not much but there are tidbits that I’ve clung to that put me in the camp of “team Pen.” There are also a few Discord posts by zede05 that I’ve added to the tiny pile of details.

Some history to note is that players who participated in the MTAS early access may have a different opinion of Pen than late-comers due to Pen’s romance being a Kickstarter goal and not originally developed. Also, his character art was greatly improved after he was introduced (I’m basing this on Discord comments as I did not participate or see prior iterations of Pen). These details may put EA players in the “Pen’s romance and physical characteristics were an afterthought” camp, which is valid.

Regardless of the romance aspect, it was Pen’s story that was greatly developed. He was such a BIG character for 2/3 of MTAS. No one makes a character that big with that many parallels, hints, and ambiguities unless they plan to utilize them in the future. Pen may become a big deal, and his arc may likely have a strong emotional impact on the player.

The one thing we know is that Pathea can and may change their mind about storylines and character development based on player response. Many discussions regarding Pen’s future romance potential are read and possibly considered in how they will approach his story arc and resolution. The more we talk about it on Reddit and Discord, the more chance we have of helping to shape Pen’s outcome. Based on zede05’s comments, nothing is set in stone.

Now, with that said, I think the original direction they may have decided on, and why Pen was not a marriage candidate is because he’s going to take the true role of the anti-hero, and his ending will be his end. Please forgive me for typing it out, it’s not meant as a jinx, and I truly don’t want it to happen. However, I do think there is a strong possibility that the writers may decide or have already decided that this resolution needs to happen to counterbalance his actions in MTAS (and in future game(s) if he continues the villain path a while longer).

I’ve been wrong many times before, but I see Pen as being the main hero of the series at a great cost to himself. Aadit gets to go home, but Pen doesn’t. Pen may even be the one to save Aadit so he can return home to Portia’s builder.

Pathea doesn’t think players will be disappointed by “how” Pen ends up, not “where” Pen ends up. Granted, there are translations involved and they didn’t know whether Aadit would be the Rogue Knight or not by Portia’s end, so it’s all speculation. However, if Pen sacrifices himself for the greater good near the series end, zede05 would be right that we wouldn’t be disappointed. If anything, we would all be greatly moved by it and the emotional impact and payoff would be huge. Pen ends his story as a true hero.

I’m not sure how many games they plan for the series, but I’ll play the odds that Pen will be recurring until the end. I believe someone at Pathea mentioned using Marvel’s film series as a guideline for its continuing characters (in reference to Aadit and Pen).

To bring the discussion back to romance, I think Sandrock’s builder was the first time Pen ever felt something akin to affection or love. At the end of the Paradise Lost quest, we know he’s quite familiar with sex, but then sex doesn’t require emotions. He was unsure of what friendship was, and he didn’t understand the feelings he was left with after his dates with the builder. Pen only knew he liked it and wanted to spend more time with them. He comes off as very emotionally stunted, which aligns with his more narcissistic traits.

One comment that stood out to me was in response to a question about Pen becoming romanceable again in the future, zede05 replied, “But Pen only loves himself and his form of justice. Haha.” So, if anything, Pen must grow and learn to have concern for others not just himself. I think the builder’s relationship with him in Sandrock set that into motion, but we won’t know the impact until he’s reintroduced later on. While I wouldn’t be surprised if Sandrock’s builder has a role in his future, I believe at the very least they helped build the foundation for his potential redemption arc.

I don’t think Pathea will let him be romanced again until something happens to counterbalance his past crimes. So, if he does do the big thing to save the day and lives, then maybe the next game could see him become a marriage candidate. Although, I really like @pentition's idea of Pen heading off to find the builder or having them ride off into the sunset, preferably on Merle’s back. I’m a big fan of full-circle storylines, so Pen dating a new character comes off to me as slicing the pie in half and chucking it in the bin.

Regardless of what is to happen in the My Time series, we know that Pen will probably play a big role in it. I do hope that whatever road Pathea has laid out for him will ultimately lead to his redemption and that we are all left feeling proud of him and satisfied with his story.

Gosh, this was hard to write. @pentition, thank you for sharing your thoughts, which in turn gave me a bit of courage to share mine. I hope I'm not a total Debbie Downer on this topic.

[captain-n-crunchies]

My #1

Teacher Izu x Black Chubby Girlfriend! Head canons

Deku, Izuku, Izu and all the works is no longer a hero but, doesn't mean he isn't a hero to others! As a teacher at UA and a support for his friends (Mei taught him a few things) he's still pretty much involved in the hero scene. And you a pretty known hero from the big ol' USA has graced his very eyes at a hero meet and greet, with your hair touched up and your hero suit shaping you nicely in all areas (that thang is thanging) you greet him with the prettiest smile he's ever seen.

" Hi!! I'm (hero name) also known as y/n l/n! You must be the Deku everyone buzzing about?" Izuku couldn't even respond but, the awed expression told a lot.

You and Izuku talk all night gossiping about the new ranks, talking about the new villains and how some have the most cringiest names, and random topics that intrigue the two heroes.

" I'm sorry I know that's your friend and all but, Is Bakugo really that loud normally"

" I've been with him since we were kids... yes, he can't stop it now"

" I heard he's number 24 in rankings, he gotta do better with that attitude"

" I told him, it goes through one ear and explodes mid translation"

Yeah, Izuku already stated his shit talking early on but, who can disagree? You two made it through thew night exchanging numbers professionally and personally. Izuku goes home with a bigger smile than normal when he gets a text from you ' Just checking in, you made it yet?'

Teacher Izuku who always calls you his break, eating your homemade Katsudon as he talks about the kids and his day "

" Today Kota got into fight with a kid from class C"

" Oh no! did he win?"

" Love, as a teacher I can't reveal such things!" .... "In your words, He whooped some ass"

Teacher Izuku who during his classes always includes a story from his fighting days about the heroes of today, the stories are never off topic though. A story about Bakugou is connected to the fact that if you don't kick the enemy in the ankle at a 45-degree angle you'll end up with a broken arm??

Teacher Izuku who records his students training from the beginning of the year to the end so they can see they're progress. He records with a camera set up and everything and makes sure to protect them. At the end of the year, he takes them out and shows them as final lesson about growth and how practice made him and everyone who they are today.

Teacher Izuku can never get enough of the student drama, because he's so chill and funny they think he's like a student too! yes, Izuku knows who wrote Susie from class 1-B is fighting Terry after school... and yes heard about Awaiza and Ms. Joke going out on Friday

Teacher Izuku who deals with bullying of other students very seriously, from snide comments about they're training, taking points off assignments for little things, even having a talk with the student to see why at the big age they are is bullying somebody?

Teacher Izuku who keeps snacks for his students in the mini drawer in his desk, having all types of snacks for sale too during tournaments and seasons

" I got snickers for $2 and pop tarts for $1.50"

" What about a dollar and 25 cents for the pop tart and I clean the classroom for the day?

" ... Deal, make sure to get the closet with the cobwebs for a bag of chips"

"NO WAY!"

Teacher Izuku who comes home to you tired and drained every day, but he brightens when sees you in your night shirt and slippers, watching tv and looking so relaxed he wonders how he got so lucky

Teacher Izuku who for date nights takes you to a nice restaurant and orders your favorite dishes, he needs to keep you nice and fed if he wants that big family his mom wants and himself begs for!

Teacher Izuku who does spa days with you either a luxury spa or at home as a nice treat for defeating a huge villain or him after just going thought it a week before exams. He takes you to Target for facial masks, serums for his skin, hair care items so his curls can at least curl more. You do his nails with clear polish, and he oils your scalps with big warm hands

Teacher Izuku who watches all your binge worthy shows with you, commenting on if the show is good or just have good actors

Teacher Izuku can never get enough of cooking dates, baking dates, anything with food he wants in! Making fresh pasta from scratch so y'all can make alfredo, making sugar cookies of each other as he wipes icing on your nose with a chuckle always resulting in him covered in icing.

Teacher Izuku who wakes up late at night with flashbacks of the war, he faces sweating and hands clammy feeling tiny sparks of black wipe as he tries to calm done, he always huddles closer to you holding you tight before he whispers tiny words of conformation in your ear. Always promising he'll protect with every last bit of strength he has, pushing himself at training days with Bakugo to be better for your sake, for your future children's sake

Teacher Izuku who on bad days at his job, stressed out in the quite classroom he just sits there waiting for the hours to end but when he sees you waving in the hallways for him to open the door with a bag of his favorite treats his smile finally shows, he bounces more, he remembers just why he keeps going

( I wrote this while listening to splatoon music. I love being childish)

[anachronistic-falsehood]

hi king how was the worm did you enjoy the worm how many Normal Feelings did that fucking d&d ending give you because they fucking. DEMOLISH me every time I think about it

I ENJOYED THE WORM I ENJOYED THE WORM SO FUCKING MUCH. GODDDD. SHAPE IM GOING TO THROW UP AND DIE BADLY. god. okay. alright. locking the fuck in im going to just rant about literally everything holy shit

ok so first of all taylor. TAYLOR. holy shit dude. girl who makes good decisions!!!!! sooo many good decisions!!! amy you have to alter my brain you have to do it to defeat scion you have to do it!!! im going to explode!!! taylor hebert thinking about how things could potentially help in the long term but never ever thinking about how her decisions effect people in the short term!!!! not thinking about how rachel and lisa and anyone else would feel seeing her ruin herself in a crazy attempt to get more powerful to defeat scion!!!!! GOD!!! and after the fact when she was talking with contessa, she admitted she would have done it differently. she REGRETTED IT. she has never ever admitted that she regretted any of her plans BUT SHE REGRETTED THIS ONE. SHE WOULD HAVE DONE IT DIFFERENTLY. HEAD IN FUCKING HANDS. TAYLOR HEBERT ADMITS SHE DID SOMETHING STUPID!!!!

and she's in another world with her dad now. hang on i sent messages 2 the hornfreaker discord that perfectly encapsulate my feelings about her i'll just put them here if i think about her for too long i feel like eating my carpet

ALSO DEFIANT. OKAY. DEFIANT. drives me fucking crazy that taylor was controlling all of the tinkers and having them make a huge fucking machine and the first time she had them use it she "gave defiant the honour of flicking the switch" <<EXACT PHRASING. like she KNEW that was something he'd want to do so she made him do it!!!!!! and i talked abt this in the discord too but i dont wanna scroll back that far to find my messages but when the tinkers left her influence they kept fucking building it!!!! and i just know defiant was the one to convince the others to keep working on it once she wasn't controlling them!!! i just fucking know it!!!! he would have been pissed about being controlled but he and taylor are So Fucking Similar he would have UNDERSTOOD what she was doing and pushed to make her plan happen. AND WHEN THE DEVICE WAS READY. HE WAS THE ONE AT THE SWITCH AGAIN. BUT WILLINGLY THIS TIME. THAT DRIVES ME FUCKING CRAZY. the story started because of taylor and colin and it fucking ended because of taylor and colin. it started with them at odds and ended because of them working together. AUGHHHHH

AND D&D OUAGHHGHHHHH THEYRE SO FUCKING. IMPORTANT TO ME. SHE'S FREE NOW. SHE'S FUCKING FREE. NO TEACHER IN HER CODE NO ONE FUCKING AROUND WITH HER MIND ANYMORE. NO ONE CHANGING HER AGAINST HER WILL. SHE'S FREE AND DEFIANT FREED HER. BUT ALSO SHE FREED HERSELF BECAUSE SHE MERGED WITH PANDORA WHICH WAS LITERALLY AN EARLIER VERSION OF HERSELF. IM GONNA EAT LEAD. THEY DID IT. SHE'S FUCKING FREE. SHE CAN DO WHATEVER SHE WANTS NOW. dude if you had told me back when i was reading the aftermath of the leviathan fight that colin arm master wallis would be one of my favourite characters ever i would have spit on you and cursed your name and thrown you out a window or something. god. he and dragon are so everything to me. im gonna throw up and die. he's no longer zeus he's content being a hephaestus....... "my worst days with you are better than my best days alone" "you saved me" "i never thought i would be a cape wife" im going to eat my carpet

[allwormdiet]

Arc 2: Insinuation, Concluding Thoughts

God, was this arc just one day? You're telling me it's only been like 72 hours since the start of the story and where we're at now? It feels like so much more somehow, so I guess let's get digging

Let's do the broad strokes and then go chronological through the chapter details, I don't have any kind of structure or template for this stuff but that's as good a way as any right here

I know there's so much fucking ground left to cover, but at this point I think I'm confident enough to say that I like Worm. I don't know if I'd recommend it to a friend, exactly, because I think it's rude to trick someone into reading more than a million words and also because the list of content warnings I'd have to provide up front would run longer than my forearm (I knew what I was in for going in but I also made this choice mostly independently), but I feel like there's a difference between liking a work and recommending that work to others. I think Midsommar is one of the best horror movies I've ever seen, but it also removed all the oxygen from the living room where I watched it via sheer oppressive malice so I don't really tell people "oh you should watch Midsommar," y'know what I mean?

(I don't actually know if Worm is at any point going to fill me with the same kind of yawning dread that Midsommar inflicted, so this might not be an even parallel to draw, but I'm not going to completely dismiss the possibility)

More on topic though. No fight scenes this time, but that left more room for delicious and filling character interactions. I'm so on board with the Undersiders so quickly, I love them all, the things they're going to be made to suffer are going to agonize me for years to come I think.

It also left more room for Taylor's day at Winslow High, and... okay we'll get there. Let's do this chronologically.

The Hebert family feels like it's a broken heart in the shape of a house. I wish that they could reconcile with each other, but I don't know if they manage that, or if they even can manage it. I think Annette's death tore a wound between them that never fully healed, or maybe it was on the mend before Taylor started getting bullied and now that process has just stalled out

...Speaking of which

Winslow High is a fucking pit. Like Jesus fucking Christ that was so agonizing to read. Everyone at this school feels either useless or brimming with malice, and for the life of me I cannot puzzle out why. I mean, okay, I get the mechanisms at least, the main three girls are popular and Sophia is a Ward and with that together they can bend the students and faculty around like putty, people are often willing to go along with a heinous status quo if rocking the boat puts a target on their back, yadda yadda. But just. What the hell is going on with the main three girls? You could maybe read Sophia as some kind of sadist, but that doesn't explain why she's taking to this with such gusto, and I don't know if this kind of behavior wouldn't be caught out by the Protectorate if she's acting like this around other Wards. Madison I don't even know, so far I don't actually know if there's any meaningful depth there beyond acting as a complementary force to the other two.

Emma, though. Fucking Emma. I was just talking in an aside about how I distrust any argument that paints a mostly realistic teenager as some kind of soulless monster or evil mastermind, and I'm trying really hard to cleave to that, but I just don't get what drives Emma to behave like this, how she justifies it in her own head. She's torturing her best friend, she triggered her power's awakening for God's sake, and I just don't know what can happen in a week or month that could ever make this explicable or justifiable. Maybe I'll learn something that makes it all make sense but for now it's just some kind of incomprehensible monument of cruelty

That last twist of the knife with the line about crying to sleep at night is also just. God. Like, fucking credit to Wildbow, I feel some amount of stress writing about this all like the day after reading it, that was a really really well written sequence, I just also hated every word of it.

Let's change to a happier topic

Love the Undersiders, they're all great. I love that Brian works so hard to meet on a level playing field, to be open about expectations and show vulnerability to make Taylor feel more welcome, and I like how he seems to take pride in being The Normal & Responsible One even though I somehow doubt that's the case. I love Lisa being so friendly and so quick to assure Taylor about what's going on and what it all means for her, and I literally can't stop thinking about what she must be reading off of Taylor with her powers. Alec is a snarky little snot and I love that about him, I really want to see him open up further. And then Rachel... oh Rachel. You might end up being my favorite once we manage to move past the whole "siccing dogs on the new teammate" thing.

And now Taylor's a part of the crew, and she's immediately second-guessing this decision because she's realizing that it had deeper repercussions than she'd initially thought! Like she already felt betrayed by all of them over a slight from Rachel, even though her entire goal of joining them is as a means to take them down from the inside and hand them over to the Protectorate, and that irony is absolutely not lost on her! She's terrified of being found out as a rat but still lets herself be vulnerable around these people in a way she hasn't even allowed her dad to see, and before the Undersiders he was basically the only person she still trusted for anything.

This is like, either the best or worst decision of Taylor's life, I dunno which. I'd like to think best. I'd really like it to be best.

And I think I already said this but I could gorge myself on just reading about the Undersiders fighting and growing and bonding together for the entire length of this story, and I want it so bad, and I'm not getting it until I dig up the appropriate fanfiction to that end so I'm just gonna have to cope with that

Basically fell in love with Victoria the moment I met her, I wish her the best and hope she learns to cut down on the accidental spine-breaking (if she breaks a spine on purpose they probably deserved it)

Amy... at this point I mostly just feel bad for Amy. She's gonna do bad things and a lot of it's gonna be her own damn fault but somehow I doubt she was born a monster.

New Wave in general I get weird vibes from. Like the Protectorate are cops, yeah, and cops suck no matter the uniform, but New Wave does it with nobody watching over their shoulders to check their work except for each other, and we see in their first on-page appearance how that's kinda fucked up!

...Like the guy was a Nazi so fuck him, but I don't have full faith it'll be a Nazi every time, y'know? God knows there's every chance Glory Girl or Brandish or whoever else decides to play this kind of hardball with someone a lot less guilty and a lot more sympathetic

And then speaking of the repercussions of Taylor's actions, again I'm looking at the threat of destabilization and gang warfare facing the Docks and wondering how much of the story's escalating danger is going to be a natural response to her deeds. Somehow I don't think Leviathan's attack is going to be Taylor's fault, or that she called up the Slaughterhouse 9, but she keeps making calls that are good but have unintended and dangerous consequences.

Call me crazy but I don't think I'm gonna like what those consequences look like when she acts to save the world. I'd rather she be happy than the world's greatest hero, but she wasn't even happy before she became a cape, so. Maybe she gets a legacy in the doing.

If that falls through I guess I'll just go read more fanfic.

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #2

Prompt #2: White

Emmet has been running the Battle Subway alone ever since his brother’s initial disappearance and while he’s elated that Ingo is finally back (and not quite ready to resume his work), he’s definitely… cautious about how the media will react.

Read the whole thing below the cut:

Emmet strode ahead, coffee in hand, sweeping Ingo along the memorized route that they often used to walk along the subway tunnels, never taking his hand off of his brother’s shoulder. They hadn’t gone very far- only half a mile or so.

“These are the service tunnels beneath the A-Line.” Emmet pointed down the corridor toward the servicing doors illuminated by a harsh blue light. “Those doors are connected to a separate line only for depot agents.”

“That, I remember.” Ingo peered closely at the painted-on signs along the way, leaning further into Emmet’s touch as they continued walking along the darkened tracks. “And these tracks are on both sides of the lines?”

“Only one side. Usually on the right,” Emmet responded. He was still reintroducing Ingo back to the subway after his brother’s… unexpected detour to a place he called Hisui. A place Emmet learned had actually been ancient Sinnoh a few hundred years prior.

Baby steps. That was what they were taking. While Ingo was nowhere near being able to comfortably resume his prior position as his battling partner in their workplace, Ingo had shown a rekindled passion for learning all about the muse that had haunted him throughout his entire time in Hisui. It was a step up; a major step up comparing things to when Ingo had been afraid to leave their shared home in Nimbasa, too afraid of the loud noises and flashing lights, likening them to some rather awful experiences in Hisui that had only ever graced Emmet’s ears on particularly bad nights.

Emmet’s Xtransceiver began to vibrate on his wrist. He was slow to pick it up. “I am Emmet.”

“Boss Emmet, this is Depot Agent Cloud,” came a low drawl from the other side of the phone. Emmet could immediately imagine the older man leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the table, probably watching the two of them stumble around the lower tunnels like two wayward Patrats. “Hey. Just thought I ought to let the two of you know; you’ve got lines buildin’ up on the platforms. May wanna get after it.”

“Lines?” Ingo repeatedly confusedly. “I shouldn’t have any lines- the singles, super singles, multi, and super multi are closed for the time being, are they not?”

“They are.” Emmet knew for a fact that they were supposed to be closed. He had mandated it. He had specifically signed the paperwork for it and had sent it to the mayor of Nimbasa and had the documents approved. Days ago. The paperwork mandated that every single advert for the Battle Subway was to be amended to reflect that in no way, shape or form was Ingo to be challenged or sought after for any purpose related to media.

In the past- when the shock of Ingo disappearing had softened ever so slightly- when Emmet was no longer going without food or missing debilitating amounts of sleep- he had begrudgingly allowed guest trainers to star along the multi-line with him if passengers demanded it: Elesa, his talented depot agents- even Burgh or Clay- the latter if he had gambled too much in Nimbasa the night prior.

“Cloud, can you disband the lines on the singles and multi lines?”

“We’ve tried,” Cloud retorted. “Both Cameron and Furze went over there to get ‘em to leave but they aint budgin’. Keep demanding to see Boss Ingo. Aren’t content with hearing the whole story about him not bein’ fightin’ fit. Think they’re entitled to him or something.”

Emmet pinched the bridge of his nose and stopped dead in his tracks, irritation causing his hands to shake. This is exactly why I should’ve closed the Battle Subway entirely… as much as it would have hurt. Working Gear Station paid more than enough, but the Battle Subway had been his and Emmet’s pet project since they had been kids. It had been their life’s work. To set it down for even a moment stung in such an indescribable way that even trying to comprehend the idea made Emmet nauseous.

“And I know you don’t wanna hear this…” Cloud continued, his words dragging along.

“… What. Is it. Cloud?”

“… A gaggle of news reporters are in the main lobby too. Waitin’ to pounce on your brother, it seems. Jackie’s havin’ an easy time rippin’ their ears off, but we’d appreciate some backup up here. But of course, we can call the police if you think it’s too much. None of the regular commuter lines have been disturbed by the gathering… so far.”

“Is that so?” Emmet’s hands were trembling.

Why couldn’t they just leave his brother alone? Why couldn’t they just let Ingo recuperate in peace? Ingo had brought a lot of things with him from Hisui. New pokémon. New experiences. New battling styles. New traumas.

Old diseases that modern medicine had eradicated decades prior. Scratches and scars and stiff joints. A posture that had at first made him appear shorter- one that physical therapy had slowly began to straighten out. It had been months since Ingo’s return- nearly a year- but Emmet wasn’t naïve enough to believe in the first place that Ingo would recover from his ordeal in a quick fashion. It would take a very long time before things ever began to resemble the normalcy they once had. Ingo had become a different person- Emmet was still trying to piece out exactly who the new ‘Ingo’ was.

Emmet had been doing his utmost best to make sure that Ingo was both getting the maintenance he so desperately needed while ensuring that the media- mostly news stations eager to get their story of the week- stayed clear of Gear Station- and most importantly- of Emmet. He had no tolerance for nosy reporters or overeager fans who didn’t listen to the strict warning about leaving Ingo alone. It had always been like that, even before Ingo went missing. He had been on the receiving end of unwanted attention when Ingo had disappeared, cameras being shoved into his face every single hour of every single day. And Emmet hated interacting with the press. He hated being pestered outside of work. His personal hours. If he could have it his way, he’d ban every last one of them from Gear Station for an entire month and then battle them just to humiliate them a little further. Losing to Battle Facility Heads off the clock meant that challenging trainers still had to fork over money. And Emmet knew just the item that would hurt them and their pockets a little bit more while still remaining perfectly legal.

But… Ingo had been the one to twist his arm and force him to relent in the first place. Ingo had been the one to so enthusiastically state his wish to accompany Emmet to work in the early hours just to gain a taste for their own workplace again. It had been Ingo who had gotten so mad when Emmet initially denied his requests. Ingo who had complained vehemently to Elesa about being stuck inside. Ingo who had so voraciously consumed as much media about subways and trains as he could handle, skipping out on sleep just to be able to figure out what the train-idioms littered about his speech finally meant.

Ingo just barely remembered what paparazzi were. He knew exactly the kind of pressure they would exert to see him. To get a good video or picture of him. That kind of trauma lasted through amnesia. Ingo had relented in allowing one of Emmet’s newest Pokémon- a Vikavolt- to distort any picture or video feed that the news stations or nosy fans did capture of either of them- solely to protect him. But that had been the line and Emmet had been itching to make it perfectly clear to the people of Nimbasa- to everybody in Unova- that Ingo was to be left alone in peace.

“- Emmet?” There came a tentative but strong pull on Emmet’s coat sleeve, pulling him squarely out of his thoughts. Ingo’s concerned gaze swam into the view. “You’re dissociating. Keep steady. Remember your safety checks.” Ingo then let go before fixing his posture. “I can… I can face them if- “

“No.” Emmet firmly grabbed Ingo by his shoulder and steered him over to the servicing tunnel door, shoving him in first. “I am Emmet. I will deal with the… guests. I will have them leave and then we will make our way to the back rooms.”

Ingo was quick to turn on his heels the second the doors closed. “I cannot stay hidden forever, Emmet! I must- “

“You do not have to do anything!” Emmet’s voice bounced off of the concrete. Made Ingo flinch, even. “I will deal with them! That is my job!”

“They are only curious! No harm will come if I simply bid them a quick ‘hello’!” Ingo then met Emmet’s gaze, a flame of determination sparking to life in his eyes. “I want to make an appearance,” Ingo iterated. “They will not leave me be unless I do, correct? Then why continue to skulk around in the tunnels?”

“You’re not- “

“We are,” Ingo asserted. He pulled away, striding toward the dizzying ladders as he began to climb. “I don’t wish to hide anymore.”

“Ingo- “

“Emmet,” Ingo retorted back in a slightly mocking tone. And in a much softer but confident tone, Ingo continued, “I want to say hello. My question is, will you support me?”

There came a moment. “Of course I will!”

“Then we both have nothing to fear! If I become too overwhelmed then- “

“- I will escort you to our office where the press cannot follow us,” Emmet concluded immediately. The backup idea still didn’t make Emmet’s heart beat any slower. “Please inform me if you get too overwhelmed.”

“Emmet, I am not the Salamanca Locomotive. You are forgetting that Hisui hosted more dangers than simply tolerating paparazzi.”

“I’m not insinuating anything.”

Ingo didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he led the way as the two climbed the stairs higher and higher, Ingo himself shakily using the PA to order the depot agents to gather every contender in the main plaza of Gear Station for a ‘surprise visit’. The fear in the man’s voice was palpable, present in every shaking consonant as they neared the exit door leading to the departure platform.

And Emmet followed along silently, his hand just barely holding onto the tail of Ingo’s coat. Anything to remind himself that it wasn’t just him facing the press- Ingo was there too.

“…I want to do this alone.”

Emmet paused. They had come to a full stop in front of the exit door, Ingo still standing with his back to Emmet.

“…What?”

“I… I would like to greet the press… alone.”

“…May I ask why?”

Ingo took in a deep breath. “You have… you have been very accommodating, Emmet. You have been nothing but generous and selfless and thoughtful during my reintroduction to Unova. Truly, you are the best brother I could ever ask for.”

Why does this sound like Ingo is about to say something bad? “…What are you even saying, Ingo? I’m your twin. I’m your only brother,” Emmet chuckled weakly.

“I know. You’ve done much for me. But I think… it’s time… to travel along these tracks alone. Not literally, though,” Ingo backtracked, fixing his hair underneath his cap. “I just thought- well, really- it would be better for me to appear alone. It’s nothing against you, really! But I don’t want to be seen as- “

“A liability?” The words hung in the air for a long, long time. So long that Emmet was almost certain that had been what Ingo was trying to get at. “You don’t want to be seen as… incompetent. Constantly having to be chauffeured around the subway, is that right?”

“…You would be correct.”

“Ingo- “

“I can’t help what I feel, Emmet! I just- will you let me greet them alone?”

“…I can take the other exit- “

“- As in, let me speak for myself,” Ingo clarified, grabbing hold of Emmet’s sleeve with a harried quickness he’d only ever reserved for fleeing out a room when the light switch was flicked on. “I would still greatly appreciate you being there to assist me! Please! Do not decouple from me! I simply meant-”

“…Of course, Ingo.” Emmet shut his eyes and nodded. I’m still wanted. I just… have to… let Ingo lead. Emmet tapped his finger against his side. Ingo always used to lead. He’s trying to lead now. So I will let him. “You lead. I will follow.”

The two brothers paused by the door before turning on a heel to face each other instead. Small fixes were made. Ingo’s shirt was tucked back in. Emmet’s hair was fixed. A few pieces of lint were picked off and sent flying. A few scuffed pokéballs were shined and put back in their places. Ingo made the final call, giving Emmet a thorough once-over before turning and slowly lifting his hand to the door.

“…Say the words.”

Emmet chuckled. “Do you even remember them? You don’t even remember yours.”

“But I remember your lines. I never forgot them.”

Those words alone made Emmet’s throat tighten with pain. His voice shaky, Emmet took his place right behind Ingo, placing a calming hand on his brother’s back. Quietly, he began his usual script. “Fine… Follow the rules. Safe driving.”

“Follow the schedule,” Ingo continued, his voice barely audible.

“Everybody smile. Check safety.”

“Everything’s ready.”

“Aim for victory.”

With a deep breath, Ingo pushed down hard on the door bar. Flashes of blistering white light scorched the tunnel. The din of snapping shutters and the howl of anxious, excited voices blasted into the small concrete hallway. Emmet tightened his grip on Ingo’s coat- more for himself than his brother. He then gave the biggest grin he could muster as he stepped out of the servicing tunnel and onto the platform which was thronging with people. Ingo’s tight grip on him only strengthened but his hands weren’t shaking anymore.

“ALL ABOARD!”