#but i am intrigued so it might become a longer fic

[kj-yikes]

12. Pine

(on ao3 here)

A summary, for context: Lena knows that Kara Danvers is the love of her life, but life always had different plans for them. Kara’s dream has always been to take over her family’s Christmas tree farm. Lena runs one of the most successful tech companies halfway across the country. They’re both happy with their lives, except for one thing.

Lena’s only in Midvale for the weekend to meet with the family lawyers to settle the Luthor estate. She definitely doesn’t have the time or mental energy to see Kara, after everything that’s happened between them. But will she see Kara anyway?

Or, an excerpt from the angsty high school sweethearts/situationship/‘Tis the Damn Season AU that’s been bouncing around in my head for months.

CW for marijuana use.

———

Lena’s phone buzzes in quick succession. Glancing down, she sees two Instagram notifications from kdanvers07 overlaid over the picture of her dog she has as her lock screen background.

Lena sighs. Lena’s not sure why she accepted the first Instagram direct message from Kara all those years ago. Her publicist is the one who had suggested (well, forced, rather) Lena to create a public social media profile. People like to see your day-to-day life. It makes you seem more human, her publicist had said. Lena really didn’t think people cared what she ate for breakfast or which dress she wore to last week's museum gala, but somehow, they had flocked to her account by the thousands. 

Kara likely hadn’t thought that Lena would ever see the initial direct message she had sent. Lena could scroll back through their message exchange to the beginning, but she knows it by heart.

It was in response to one of her first Instagram stories, a candid photo of Lena in front of a cake with a giant sparkler in the middle. Lena had her eyes closed, laughing and trying to block the photographer from taking the picture.

Happy birthday. You look just as gorgeous as ever, Kara had written. Lena had found it in her DMs by accident later that night, wine drunk and alone in her apartment. It had been five years since Lena had seen or even talked with Kara. 

Without thinking much about the implications, Lena had navigated to Kara’s profile. She had slowly scrolled through the photos – pictures of Kara at her favorite coffee shop, with her sister Alex at some undisclosed bar, playing board games with friends. 

Lena had lingered on one in particular: a candid of Kara walking away from the camera in the distance towards the edge of her family’s Christmas tree farm, looking over her left shoulder. Kara’s slim figure and broad shoulders were accentuated by the red flannel and tight jeans she was wearing, her long blonde hair down and wavy under her beanie. 

Lena had tapped twice to like it before she realized that it was a two year old photo. There was no undoing that impulsive mistake, so she had tapped the “follow” button and responded to Kara’s DM with a single red heart emoji. 

Lena swipes open the app and sees the two most recent messages from Kara. 

How long are you in Midvale for?

Can I see you?

Lena sighs. She’s only really in town for the weekend to deal with the issue of her parents’ estate. She doubts she’ll have time for much else, but… there’s always a but. Lena knows what will inevitably happen if they get together like the plot of her favorite book.

She recalls the last time she had been in Midvale, the last time she had seen Kara two years ago. Lena was in town, reluctantly, to visit her stepmother, Lillian, and things had gone poorly, as usual. Snide jabs at Lena throughout dinner weren’t anything out of the ordinary, but this particular dinner had been more vicious than usual. Despite everything, Lena was concerned that perhaps Lillian was getting lonely, here in this giant mansion without her husband and children. 

And then, Lillian had dropped the bomb on her.

Lena hadn’t known who else to call that night. Her best friend, Sam, was in Europe working on a merger, and would have long put her phone on do not disturb to get some sleep. And her brother, Lex, would have likely said something snarky about interrupting his evening’s activities before hanging up the phone and leaving Lena alone to her thoughts.

So she had pulled out her phone and messaged Kara, who picked her up in her old pickup truck at the end of the long driveway ten minutes later (despite the fact that Lena knew Kara’s apartment was fifteen minutes away). 

“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” Kara says, a hand on the wheel as she glances over at her in the passenger seat. “I thought we could just drive around for a while. Get you out of the house.” Lena nods.

”That sounds nice, thank you, Kara.” She picks at the cuticles of her fingers in her lap and looks out the window as the trees begin to thin out. Lena watches as they pass through the tiny town square of Midtown, then Kara takes a right and they head back out into the forest. Kara grabs her hand and brings it into her lap, entwined with hers.

Minutes pass, maybe hours. Lena’s not really sure, and she’s lost count of the songs that have played on the crackly radio from the local country station when she spies a familiar gate. The truck rumbles as Kara guides it onto gravel and slides it into park. With a smile, Kara squeezes her hand and opens the car door, hurrying around to open Lena’s before Lena can reach for the handle. 

The parking lot of the Christmas tree farm is completely empty. It’s late January — the part of the year where there's not much work on the farm. Kara grabs her hand and leads her to the bed of the pickup truck, opening the hatch and hopping up. Lena takes the offered hand and joins Kara.

Silently, Kara slides a flask and a hand-rolled joint from the pocket of her chore jacket and presents them to Lena, her eyebrows raised in question. Lena considers, then grabs the joint. Alcohol will just make her more morose. Kara smirks and pockets the flask, producing a lighter. Lena puts the joint in between her her lips, and Kara leans close to Lena to light the joint. Lena can't help but watch Kara's hands as she flicks the lighter.

Lena takes a drag and immediately, the tension in her neck releases. She closes her eyes, exhales. Her eyes open and immediately find Kara's deep blue eyes on her. Kara's cheeks redden slightly at getting caught staring, but she doesn't look away.

Lena pinches the joint between her fingers and passes it to Kara. Holding eye contact, Kara places it in between her lips. They look just as soft and plump as Lena remembers them.

Kara says nothing, waiting for Lena to be ready to talk, as they pass the joint back and forth. Lena's gaze wanders around the lot of the farm. So many memories here. All of them with Kara. It didn't feel like it at the time, but things were simpler back then, over a decade ago. Over a decade since Lena's lived in Midvale, and yet she's back here again, at the Danvers Family Christmas Tree Farm, with Kara. Getting high. Upset about her family.

Time is funny.

"Lionel was my biological father," Lena says, breaking the silence. Kara looks up at her, surprised. "Lillian told me at dinner."

"He never told you."

"No." Lena's eyes meet Kara's again. Kara understands. Kara was there when Lionel died. Kara knows the complexities of Lena's relationship with her father.

Kara searches Lena's face. "Lena, this doesn't change anything about who you are as a person."

Lena's eyes shut, and she lets out a small laugh. Years apart, and it's like no time has passed. Kara still not only knows how Lena's brain works, she also never fails to say so.

It's frustrating. It makes her heart soar, to be so well understood.

"Yeah, I know," she says. She drops the joint to the floor of the truck and puts it out with her boot. "Still hurts, though." Kara notices the tears Lena tries so hard to not let fall. She crosses over to Lena's side of the truck and sits next to her, leaning against the cold metal of the truck. She seems to hesitate for a moment, then grabs both of Lena's hands in hers.

Lena needs more, though. She pulls her hands back and instead tucks her head onto Kara's shoulder. She feels Kara smile as her strong hands wrap around Lena's waist.

Lena cries, and Kara holds her, occasionally giving her tight squeezes and rubbing her back. Eventually, the tears run out.

-----

"Katie Roberts really tried to get you to join her MLM?" Lena asks, laughing. Her head is buzzing pleasantly, and she feels every inch of Kara's body underneath her. "Wasn't she the valedictorian of the class below you?" Kara's eyes shine in the moonlight as she chuckles. They're laying in the bed of the truck, Lena's head on Kara's chest and Kara's arms around Lena. They had moved to lay down under the pretense of stargazing, the pine trees of the farm towering around them. A head on a shoulder turned into full on cuddling within minutes. Despite the years apart, it feels so normal, so comforting. Kara always had that effect on Lena.

"Yep. How the mighty have fallen," Kara jokes. Lena giggles again and shakes her head.

"Truly Midvale's finest." Lena watches Kara laugh, how her tongue presses to the insides of her teeth as she tries not to bust out laughing, how her eyes close happily. It's always so easy, being with Kara. That was never the hard part of their relationship. The hard part was always their different plans for life, their families' plans for their lives. Plans that Kara and Lena could never seem to fit together.

Lena doesn't notice when Kara catches her staring, too caught up in her memories of when things were easier for them. Kara's snort pulls her from her thoughts.

"What?" Kara shakes her head, a smug smile on her face.

"You better be careful, Miss Luthor. You know how handsy I get when I'm high."

Lena smirks, raising an eyebrow.

"And?" Kara eyes light with desire. She smiles goofily, and Lena rolls to straddle her. She places a hand on either side of Kara's face.

"Oh." Kara giggles softly. Lena takes in Kara's sapphire eyes looking up at her — a more beautiful sight than the stars above her, before leaning in to capture Kara's soft, pink lips.

It's like coming home. She lets out a soft moan as Kara grabs her hips and pulls her closer.

God, why didn't Lena come to Midvale more often? Why did they ever decide that long distance wasn't for them? Lena can't remember. Kara's tongue is sliding into her mouth and her teeth are biting Lena's bottom lip and Lena can't help but to melt into Kara over and over again.

Kissing Kara is as grounding as it is erotic. Every thought of her family flies out of her head and is replaced with Kara's calloused hands cupping her cheeks, her lips pressing over and over against Lena's. She's missed this so much. Lena cards her fingers through Kara's hair, and a groan drops from Kara's lips. It awakens something in Lena's lower belly, and she tugs harder, pulling Kara closer and closer.

Somehow, Lena's bra ends up shoved in the corner of the truck bed. Their kisses are eager, but slow, melding into each other as Kara traces her fingertips across the sides of Lena's breasts underneath her sweater. Kara's chore jacket is halfway off, pushed to her elbows but still caught underneath her.

“Stay over,” Kara says breathlessly, pulling away from Lena’s lips and pressing her forehead to Lena’s. “I don’t want you to have to go back there tonight.” Lena’s already shaking her head. God, she wants to. But It's not a good idea. Her high has worn off slightly, and she knows that she'd be in for another argument with Lillian if she isn't there in the morning. And she'd have to explain to Lillian where she was, and Lillian always disliked Kara. It was bound to make a complicated situation worse.

“I can’t. All my stuff is still there, and… I‘m going to have to talk to her eventually,” she finishes lamely. Kara’s mouth is opening in protest, but Lena cuts her off gently. “I appreciate the offer, Kara, but Lillian’s probably already asleep. I won’t have to deal with her until morning, and if I need rescuing again, I’ll call. I promise.” 

If Kara is hurt by this gentle let down, it doesn’t show on her face. She nods resolutely, then captures Lena’s lips in a soft kiss before sitting up. Lena reluctantly rolls off Kara. She doesn't want to stop kissing Kara, but.

“Let’s get out of here, then. It's freezing." Kara offers Lena a hand, and she grabs it, standing. Kara supports her as she maneuvers her way down from the cab of the truck. Kara hops down after her and moves to open the passenger side door. Her hand hovers over the handle, and she looks like she wants to say something else, but after a moment, her blonde waves bounce as she gives her head a little shake.

The drive to the Luthor mansion is silent, but not unpleasantly so. Kara pulls up to the end of the driveway at the gate and lets the car idle. 

“I really appreciate it, Kara. You didn’t have to come get me,” Lena says quietly. It’s dark, but Lena can see Kara's

“It’s no big deal, Lena. Plus, it’s not every day I get to see you.” Kara’s smile looks genuine. “I…miss you.” 

Lena nods. “Yeah. Me too.” She leans over the console and presses her lips to Kara’s softly, gently, only for a few moments, trying to convey to Kara everything she's feeling. Kara’s eyes are still blissfully shut when Lena pulls away and opens the car door.

It's not until Lena's back in her room, laying in her bed, that she realizes her bra is still in the bed of Kara's truck.

------

Lena reads Kara's two DMs again.

How long are you in Midvale for?

Can I see you?

Two simple questions, but so loaded. Lena's torn. The last time she saw Kara, they had almost slept together, and then Lena left town.

She hadn't wanted to leave without saying goodbye to Kara. Her departure had been hasty, and then the chaos of work pushed the events in Midvale aside. It wasn't until days later that she had messaged Kara an apology, to which she had never received a reply. Until today.

I can’t. I’m here to settle the estate, and that’s it. I’m sorry, she types out. Her finger hovers over the send button. It's for the best, she thinks. On top of everything, Lena's not sure she can handle another complicated situation. Nothing's changed between their life circumstances. Lena still runs a company in National City. Kara still runs her family's farm here in Midvale. Neither of them were ever willing to compromise those things for each other. Her heart squeezes painfully as she hits the send button.

Kara's read receipt turns on. She's seen the message. Lena watches as the text bubble appears, disappears, appears, disappears.

I understand. You do what you need to do, Lena. <3

I'm here if you change your mind.

Lena, inevitably, changes her mind by the end of the weekend.

[livinginshambles]

Preview: I thought you'd be different | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: A Cinderella Story, but Hogwarts. (Enemies? to lovers)

Notes: Sorry I've been mia; i wrote this today, it's all I have so the full fic will probably take a while, not proofread, mistakes blah blah, enjoy!

PS. I am currently no longer making a taglist because I can't keep up with it, I'm really sorry!

Masterlist. Taglist

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

You could still remember the moment vividly, as if it was engraved in your memory.

That moment when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor like your two older sisters had been sorted. You could still see the look of surprise, concern, horror and then eventually disgust, every time you closed your eyes.

“Now we finally know your true colors,” is what you sister Alyssa had hissed coldly at you. You had pleadingly looked at your other sister, but Marla had supported her twin sister, disregarding the confused and scared look in your eleven-year-old eyes.

“Don’t talk to us, don’t look at us and don’t mention us at all,” she sneered down at you and for a moment you wondered how she hadn’t been the one to be sorted into Slytherin instead. But you had cast your eyes down and agreed.

But years passed and you had become the very stereotype of a Slytherin student, completely leaning into the cold, distant, quiet but calculating persona that your sisters had created for you. Might as well, you figured after your parent’s dismay at the revelation of your house.

You were making your way down the corridor, long strides as you passed your sisters while looking them straight in the eye. They grimaced at the sight of you, but without their entire group of classmates, they didn’t dare make any comments.

A feeling of victory erupted inside of you, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up your face.

“What poor soul suffered for you to look so satisfied?” You turned your head to look at the person who called out to you. James Potter and Sirius Black were both leaning against a statue in the open yard.

“Did you get rid of Regulus or something?” Sirius taunted. “Finally had enough of him following you around, did you L/N?”

“Go die in a ditch, Sirius,” you retorted with an eyeroll, but seemed unphased.

“Why so much hostility,” James unpleasantly remarked, and you halted in your step.

To be petty or not to be petty, you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“10 points from Gryffindor for loitering,” you decided.

The two marauders started to protest.

“If you have nothing to do, other than insulting students, I would love to recommend you to Professor McGonagall for detention. Heard she was still looking for the person who made all the pumpkins explode last week during Halloween, and you guys are terrible at getting rid of the evidence.” It effectively shut them up, and with a last glance up and down, you continued your way towards the room of requirement.

When you entered the sober room with a sigh, you noticed the small scrolled up piece of parchment in the middle of the room. You frowned. This was your space. The room didn’t open this space for anyone else, you made it specifically as a safe haven.

You cautiously approached the parchment and rolled it open to reveal nothing. It was completely blank. You shrugged. If the room left this here, it was meant for you, and so you took a seat and started drawing on it.

James sat in an empty room, his invisibility cloak hiding him from plain sight as he pulled the now folded paper from his back pocket. He inspected it closely, almost pressing the paper to his glasses in a curious manner.

He had gone to the Room of Requirements earlier that day and found a piece of paper floating in the air. Of course, levitating stuff wasn't that strange, but it had intrigued him nonetheless.

James unfolded the paper, and his eyebrows flew up. Lines were appearing on the paper by itself, and a beautiful portrait of a weeping willow with a girl who was crying on a bench under the tree, appeared.

James fumbled to find his quill and ink. Then he started to write something on it, in a handwriting that he only ever used for written exams.

(Credits to Professor McGonagall who had announced that she would not be grading anything she couldn’t read. And she had looked over her glasses at him while she said it.)

It’s beautiful.

You dropped the parchment at the words that formed right under your drawing. You traced it with your fingers. Then you decided to write back.

Full fic

[wispscribbles]

Mw3 spoilers (just a long personal ramble)

Hiii. So

As soon as the pre-release came out on, I hunted down spoilers, because I know myself and knew that if someone died and I got that information out of the blue, I wouldn’t take it well. Jokes on me, because I still haven’t been taking it well lol

I won’t talk about how Soap’s death was handled or the quality of the game. Plenty of smarter people are doing so.

I try not to talk a lot about myself and irl stuff on here, but will just say: I am very unwell, mentally. (Cue silence because that’s not surprising at all) Something I am very aware that I do, is that I latch onto fiction with my whole being, usually one specific character. For some reason, I always latch onto the character that ends up dead, usually in a way that make them only exist to further the motivations of other characters. It sucks.

So my hope for Soap has never been great, but for some reason I was still so shocked?? I don’t know, I tricked myself into thinking this time was different. Such an iconic character with so much good setup for great character development. I knew someone would die, but ow. To me, he was the element that made 141 seem more like family than coworkers. Soap’s interactions with the rest just livened up the games so much and made them all shine. Especially Ghost. Their dynamic, man.

Soap was the character that intrigued me enough to jump into the cod rabbit hole. It feels very hollow without him.

I keep telling myself that it’s silly to be so hurt over something fictional, and that I can just treat it as a mcd fanfic and move on, but nope. Brain’s stuck in the bad stuff. It’s a bad habit of mine to let something like this affect me so much, but well. Logic vs feeling and all that.

I really did find so much comfort in Soap this last year, that I severely needed. It feels a little like losing someone I know, someone who helped me through a rough time. I related to something in him and felt inspired. I only started writing after getting into ghostsoap, I started working out and I got back into art after a very long burnout. It may be fiction, but the impact is not.

So that was pretty much the worst case scenario of what mw3 could be to me. I always knew the risk, but, once again, ow. But there also seems to be plenty of good stuff in the game that I enjoy. I’m happy with the Ghost and Soap dialogue, the whole team working together and seeing Laswell and Farah and Alex and Nik. I hope I can be inspired by some of the new content once I’m calmer.

And I was worried they would ignore Ghost and Soap’s relationship after their development in mw2, but they genuinely seem to have gotten real close. It’s nice. I thought the shipping might scare the game devs into never having them appear in a scene together again, so that’s a plus.

Bottom line to all this is: I probably need a little break to get my head sorted. The grief is surprisingly real, it’s triggered some old stuff for me (haven’t been sleeping or eating, been stuck in some old thoughts). I’ll need to calm down and become a bit more normal about this again. Part of the grief isn’t so much about Soap himself, but also just the safe space that this account has been. The very nature of how the fandom is going to interact with Soap and Ghostsoap is going to change now, and man… I liked how it was, y’know? Could’ve used a little longer in that bubble. There’s going to be plenty of new fics and art, lovely stuff as always, but many of them will be tinged with grief, and I’m not in a place where that won’t break me a little.

I will hopefully come back to posting and making stuff once my brain settles down. I have so many drafts for fics and ideas that I hope I can return to. I’ve gotten so used to drawing these lads that I doubt I can stop tbh

The version of Soap that we love is already evolved from the games due to all the time and care the community has put into the character. The games may have killed him, but luckily, he’s fictional. We can do what we want, same as before.

I’m not even saying that I wish they hadn’t killed him. The games are crafting a story that fits their audience. It makes sense.

But I will choose to live in one of the many universes we’ve created for Soap, where he is alive and cared for, with a found family and a spooky lieutenant with a soft spot for him. Good for him.

Hope you’re all taking care of yourselves. RIP canon Soap (again). Thanks to Neil for a wonderful portrayal. And no matter where we go from here, thanks for a wonderful year of creating with you lovely folks. Seriously, some of the kindest people I’ve met in fandom. <3

Lastly: fuck you Kevin O’Reilly, but more importantly, sincerely thank you. (CallMeKevin video about mw2 got me into this mess. Otherwise I was keeping cod at an arm’s length, but he’s my fav youtuber, so I watched it. And here we are!)

[nicoline1998enilocin]

A new start

PAIRING ⇒ Husband!Ari Levinson x Wife!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT ⇒ 1K

SUMMARY ⇒ You've always dreamt of turning your career around, starting in a new field. When you mention this idea to your husband, Ari, he is very supportive in the best way he knows how to be.

RATING ⇒ General (G)

WARNINGS/TAGS ⇒ Age gap (5-10 years), use of nickname (Beautiful)

REQUEST ⇒ @cevansbaby-dove Something for me being that i am nursing school can u write something (pick anyone chris has played or himself) in a fic of reader is having a stressful day about school and he helps her study for an exam she is nervous about (tons of cute things and smut if you want)

A/N ⇒ Thank you so much for this request, and I deeply apologize for taking this long to get around to it! I still hope you will love it, and thank you for your patience! @ccbsrmsf1 thank you so much for proofreading this one! 💜

EVENTS Masterlist ⇒ @fluffbruary ⇒ Caress Masterlist ⇒ @flufftober Flufftober '23 ⇒ Encouraging s.o. to reach a goal Masterlist ⇒ @ultimatechrisbingo ⇒ ''I like to be the exception''

Banners: Yours truly ⇒ Divider: @firefly-graphics ⇒ GIF: Source

Main Masterlist ⇒ Ari Levinson Masterlist

For the last six months, you haven’t been able to get the idea out of your head to switch fields. It’s not that you don’t enjoy being a teacher by any means, but something about being a nurse has intrigued you ever since your stay at the hospital almost a year ago.

You’ve been searching the internet for courses catching your eye and finally found one. You can do it in the evenings, so you can still work while following it. Now, all you can do is tell your husband about your plans.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours, Beautiful?” He asks as you sit at the dinner table, shoveling the food from one side to the next without actually taking a bite. You squeeze your eyes and find the courage to tell him what’s been circling through your head.

“I-it’s nothing, Ari,” you say with a smile, though it’s not very convincing. He can see something occupying your mind and won’t stop until he knows exactly what’s happening.

“Doesn’t look like nothin’ to me; you haven’t touched your food at all,” he answers with a raised brow, and that’s when you know you can’t keep it inside any longer. He reaches over the table to grab your hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly over your knuckles.

“I want to switch fields and become a nurse. I’ve been looking at fitting courses for the last six months, and I found one last week,” you tell him in a rushed breath, and the heat spreads over your cheeks, a mix of shyness and embarrassment taking over.

“Really? That’s amazing, Beautiful! If I’d known sooner, I would have helped you find a fitting course,” he says enthusiastically, and every single doubt you had melted away as you finally dare to look at your husband. He’s always been nothing short of supportive of you, and it makes your heart flutter every single time.

“So… You’re not mad at me for doing this? I know we have plans for our future, and this might get in the way of those,” you say softly, but Ari is sure to wipe every last doubt away.

“God, I would never be able to get mad at you for following your dreams, Beautiful! Just as long as you promise to put on a sexy nurse outfit for me now and again, I’ll be more than supportive of you,” he says with a wink, and a broad smile spreads over your face at his words.

“Deal!” And with that, you finally dive into your food, and Ari is glad you’re feeling better. During the rest of dinner, you tell him everything, and that night, he even helps you out as you’re signing up for the course, followed by a night of passion as he constantly tells you how proud he is of you.

The following day, you wake up in your husband’s arms, snuggled right into his chest, the hair tickling your cheek as his chest keeps rising and falling. His hand is caressing your back gently, pressing soft kisses on the crown of your head.

“Mornin’, Beautiful,” Ari says as he feels you stirring awake, and you lift your head to press a kiss to his soft, plump lips.

“Good morning,” you say before snuggling even closer to him, your naked bodies intertwined under the covers. You don’t want to get out of bed yet, and Ari seems to have the same plan as he pulls you closer, his beard tickling against your face as it makes you giggle. You will never get enough of moments like these.

“So, how does it feel to be starting nursing school soon?” Ari asks in his rough, deep morning voice, sending the butterflies in your stomach off.

“Good, been wanting this for so long that I’m thrilled I found the courage to tell you and sign up,” you tell him. You can’t wait to see what becoming a nurse will be like, and you’re excited to follow this path with your husband by your side.

The first few months of nursing school were going well, but now you have a critical exam coming up that has you stressed out beyond belief. You have studied the material inside and out for the last few weeks, but there are still some things that you can’t seem to remember.

You’re pacing through the living room with your notes in your hand, repeating everything out loud until they lose all their meaning altogether. When you’re about to give up, Ari walks in after working in his office all day, and he can see the nerves radiating off you from a mile away.

“I think it’s time for a break, Beautiful,” he says, walking over to you and wrapping his long arms around you, pulling you into his chest and calming you down.

“But I have to study, Ari! I can’t take a break,” you say, and he can see your bottom lip wobble slightly, tears threatening to spill over as the nerves begin to win the battle.

“Of course, you can, and I’ll take one with you, okay? Maybe we can watch an episode of your favorite series as I massage your feet and you drink some tea,” he offers, and you give in, not being able to say no to something so enticing.

“You know, whenever I talk to other people in my class, I sometimes get the feeling their partners aren’t even half as supportive as you are,” you tell him, and you groan as he massages your feet, and you melt into his touch.

“I like to be the exception, Beautiful,” he says, and with those words, you enjoy the rest of your massage before he helps you study, and with his help, the last information is quickly saved into your brain, too.

When you get your exam results a week later, you can’t wait to tell him.

“Ari, Ari! Guess what?! I passed my exam because of you!” You say as you jump into his arms, and he hugs you close, pressing kisses on your neck as he tells you how proud he is. Not long after, he’s making you fall apart the best way he knows how.

“I’m proud of you, Beautiful, and I can’t wait to have my sexy nurse take care of me soon,” he whispers in your ear before going for round two.

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Thirteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

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High Valyrian Translations (the longer sentences are within the text)

kasto bratsiot - Green Bitch valonqus - little brother hunītsos - little rabbit mo realta geal - you'll find out when Aegon does ;)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - I'll Be a Better Man

Jace witnesses a mostly normal family dinner among the Greens. Aegon and Abby choose each other.

Jace wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“Your collar is fine,” Baela said, teeth clicking in the anxious way she had but would never admit to. She was every inch Velaryon and Targaryen both, the gown she wore in the Pentoshi style. Black silk skimmed her swarthy and sun freckled skin, a deep v cut down her chest, the gown held closed with deep red, braided clasps. A matching cape fell in the same black silk from her shoulders down to her knees, the three headed dragon woven across the midnight expanse in the same shade as the decoration on her dress. A silver necklace was her only jeweled adornment: a seahorse and a dragon entwined around her throat.

She reached up, tugging on the collar of his dual colored doublet for emphasis, the Velaryon seahorses stitched in contrasting reds and blacks ringing around his neck. His wild curls were braided back to the base of his neck, tied with black cord and the rest curling against his neck. His mother had thought to cut his hair before he left, but was proud of his hair, and called her jealous when she was stuck with pin straight hair woven into braids.

It felt wrong to wear the colors of his mother’s house, when she still held the Velaryon sigil on her coat of arms, when his name was still Velaryon and he would not become Targaryen until he ascended the throne.

‘Who am I fooling?’ Jace wondered to himself. ‘None here look at me and think Targaryen or Velaryon.’

“You’re doing it again,” his sister snapped, tugging him into an alcove in the hall. Jace’s cheeks flamed at the closeness, smelling the jasmine perfume she favored.

“Doing what?” A pitiful protest that she didn’t buy and her violet eyes narrowed. It was not so long ago she might have distracted him with wandering hands and mouths, two bored teenagers on a lonely rock in the middle of the sea with not much else to do. That time had long passed and Jace was sure that were she to touch him now, he would not come away unscathed.

“Thinking about those foolish things that ended on our parents’ graves,” Baela hissed at him. In the arms of their dual tragedies, in the glow and shadow in the great hall of Driftmark, his concerns should have been put to bed. Jace had said the words he knew would ignite his mother, unclear of the true consequences.

Both corpses had succumbed to the flame. Jace wondered if that was the doom in his dragonblood, for all whom he cared for fated to die screaming.

Jace tugged at his doublet again and let out a hissed, “Ow!” when Baela smacked his hands.

“You’re serving on his council. You should have been serving for years now had your mother not run from the fight.”

Jace drew back at the accusation towards his mother, a snarl in his voice. “You don’t know what she went through living here, you wouldn’t say that if you knew-”

“Then she should have had the king put a stop to it, had that kasto bratsiot dragged and fed to Syrax for her treason, sent her and her whelps back to the Maester’s hold. It’s what I would have done.” Baela turned and spat on the floor to illustrate her disgust. Jace clapped a hand over her mouth and with two strides, pushed her against the wall.

“Daor,” he hissed, continuing in Valyrian. “Do not speak about things you weren’t there for and that you don’t understand.” Her wide eyes stared back at him in surprise at his anger and Jace drew back, disliking his reaction but the anger bubbled beneath the surface, unrepentant. Baela had not witnessed the growing anxiety his mother faced during their years here. Baela had not witnessed his mother’s furtive tears after a family dinner, or the clench of her jaw as he heard whispers of cruel words thrown her way as they walked the halls to his lessons. His mother was happier on Dragonstone than he had seen her in this place. “What is done is done, there is no going back. Choices were made, and now I make my own. You make your own.”

“They’ll put your drunken uncle on the throne without your mother here,” she whispered and Jace was relieved that the odds of anyone overhearing them and understanding were next to none. He doubted any of the servants around the keep knew enough Valyrian to follow the whispered conversation.

“They’d try it if she were too. Of course they would,” Jace said with a shake of his head. “Anyone in Alicent Hightower’s position would.” It did not excuse the way his step grandmother had treated his mother, but Jace had seen enough snipping at court on Dragonstone to realize that this wasn’t just an exception.

Baela had nothing to say to that and Jace moved away until his back hit the wall. It was quiet between them until they heard a pair of footsteps and soft voices.

“That was foolish and you know it, Aemond,” Helaena’s voice drifted down the hall. Jace’s widened eyes met Baela’s own and together, they shrunk further back into the shadows of the alcove.

“I was simply having a bit of fun, showing them what a true Targaryen dragonrider looks like.” Aemond’s reply was light and jesting, but the bitterness in his words were unmistakable. “Had they come on their dragons, perhaps we could have had more fun.”

“You never used to be this reckless.”

“Well I also used to have two eyes and we all know how that went,” he snapped back and the footsteps stopped abruptly. His voice went softer. “I apologize, heltar gevie. I do not mean to take my frustrations out on you.”

Footsteps resumed, lighter ones, before the heavier footfalls followed. “Yes, you do,” Helaena said firmly. “You never apologize, and attempting to do so changes nothing.”

“I’m not trying to change anything, Helaena.”

Helaena’s voice was anxious. “You need to be more careful, valonqus. You are running down a path we cannot follow.” There was a soft sound, like the jangle of bracelets. “Please cease your baiting, if not for my sake, then for mother’s.”

Aemond made a low sound in the back of his throat and Jace held his breath as his uncle’s shoulder appeared in view. It was by the grace of whatever gods looked over him that his blind eye was to the alcove and so he could not see. He was clad all in black, his straight, silver hair falling just past his shoulders, pulled back from his face with three braids. Around the side, Jace saw Helaena’s smaller shadow cast across the ground.

His uncle continued down the hall towards the solar, leaving Helaena standing in the patch of torchlight. Her gown was pale blue, with shimmers of silver thread woven through the fabric in the shape of dragons. A wide, silver belt cinched about the waist and the two swathes of blue fabric covered her, but left bare an expanse of pale skin from her sternum to her collarbones. The gown had another silver clasp at each shoulder to keep the fabric in place and Jace’s eyes fixated on the dusky little moles dotted across the skin she revealed. Her curls hung free around her shoulders and down to her waist, a loose net of winking diamond and pearls covering her hair like a makeshift veil.

Starlight in the night.

She blinked and turned her head slightly and Jace swore that their eyes met. Lavender against lavender. Then, Helaena spun on her heel and followed her brother down the hallway.

“I do not wish to be here among all the dramatics,” Baela muttered as the pair of them followed a distance behind Helaena’s drifting blue form. Jace rolled his eyes.

“As if home is any better?” he said rhetorically. In some ways yes, in other ways, there was little escaping his mother and Daemon’s more passionate arguments that would carry across the castle. It got a chuckle from Baela, so Jace considered it a win.

The family dining hall was a small affair, dominated by a long, ornately carved trestle table that could comfortably seat twenty, but that night only needed space for eleven. He was relieved that they would not be sat all on top of one another. The king was getting settled in his chair at the left end of the table, Lord Otto Hightower at his left hand.

Across at the other end stood the queen, resplendent in a gown so dark a green it was nearly black, save for the shimmer of it in the candlelight, the bodice clinging to her from neck to wrist. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a low bun and upon her head sat a silver dragon diadem, its wings spread out on either side and a pear shaped ruby made up the body of it.

Her brother, Ser Gwayne, was a head taller than his sister, with sharp cheekbones like Aemond’s, and large, dark brown eyes with a smirk that reminded him of Daemon. He was surprised to see the shock of blonde hair upon the man’s head. It was darker than the Targaryen silver, a slightly lighter shade than his father.

Jace felt the gaze of all three Hightowers flick in his direction and he kept his shoulders straight, his head held high, and a genial smile on his face. “I do hope we aren’t late,” he said with a laugh, leading the way into the dragon’s den.

If he was a dragon, so were his uncles and aunt. They were all blood of the dragon, regardless of those who tried to mold them differently, or tried to claim him and his siblings as lesser.

“Only late if I declare it so, and you are the guest of honor, my boy,” the king laughed, raising his goblet to be filled. “Come, sit, let us drink and be merry this evening.”

Jace took his place at his grandfather’s right hand, doing his best to ignore the dual stares of Otto Hightower across from him and Aemond’s wrathful, violet gaze from his seat beside his grandsire. Baela took her place beside him, and next to her, Helaena slid into her seat, speaking to Aegon on her right about her mantis. Daeron was at the end, chirping excitedly to his mother. To the Queen’s right sat Ser Gwayne, and in the chair between him and Aemond, sat Abrogail. Stiff and silent, Jace hadn’t even noticed her when he came in. Her blue eyes were large in her round face, her gown cut across the shoulders, deep blue fabric with a shimmering, dark green pattern that made it look like her dress was made of river water. The slashes in her tight sleeves revealed the deep red gown beneath, and her hair was held back in a braided crown woven with pearls, the rest falling down her back like a river of red.

Her gaze rose, large and blue rimmed with kohl, and she nodded to him in greeting. Jace returned it, his heart pounding beneath his ribs. He had always gotten along with Abrogail, even when he was often pitted against Aegon in terms of “rescuing” her in their childhood games. There was always a degree of separation between them that he hadn’t really thought of, but when he watched the way she cocked her head as Luke did, and the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled at something Daeron had said, he felt the understanding of why that he hadn’t as a boy. He had never registered the physical similarities, so focused on dark hair and pug noses as everyone had been in his eyes.

Jace let out a long breath and pulled Baela’s chair out for her, which she took with sweeping grace. Despite the earlier tension, she nodded to Helaena. “You look lovely tonight. The shade of blue suits you well, cousin.” It seemed that Helaena’s threats had earned Baela’s hard won respect, for her tone lacked the feral edge of taunt, of laying a trap, that it held with those that she did not care for.

“Thank you, Princess,” Helaena returned and then, far more softly, Jace barely heard her say, “You breasts look fantastic.”

Baela’s face twisted in a bark of laughter, choking into the goblet of wine she had just lifted to her mouth, and Jace caught Helaena’s innocent grin on her pleasant features, her own shoulders twisting and Jace quickly glanced away, grateful to see Lord Otto softly conversing with the king.

“My good-brother, Lord Rodrik, and Lord Jason Lannister will be attending council on the morrow to discuss issues with the Ironborn. It appears their summer raids have continued longer than anticipated. If it weren’t for the celebrations, Lord Jason would have stayed to defend the coast.”

The king hummed.

“A prayer before we begin?” Alicent’s usually sharp voice was soft yet guiding, echoing from the other end of the table and the conversations quieted. Hands were joined around the table and Jace did his best to suppress the shiver when he took his grandfather’s fragile hand.

Baela’s brow furrowed at Jace, sending him a silent, confused look as they joined hands and he gave a slight shrug. His step-grandmother had always been a woman of faith, that he knew, and so prayer at mealtimes was not unheard of, but not a practice on Dragonstone, or it seemed, on Driftmark. Most certainly not under Daemon’s eye.

“Mother, we thank you for the health and well being of our family as we come together for the first time in many years to break bread.” Jace chanced a glance sidelong at his grandsire, whose eyes were closed in prayer, and a flick across the table to Lord Otto, whose head was bowed as the penitent words flowed. Even Aemond sat there, head bowed. “May the Smith help us mend and forge new bonds that have been fractured. May the Warrior give strength to our king. May the Father smile down upon our coming celebrations.”

“Thank you, your grace, for those words,” Jace forced out with a smile and an incline of his head. He would not give Alicent Hightower a reason to throw cruel words at him, or find something wanting in his presentation. He was his mother’s heir, third in line, and no words of spoiled blood or pug noses would take hold on him like a barnacle to a hull.

Alicent watched him for a long moment, mouth pressed into an uncertain expression before easing slightly. “Thank you, Jacaerys.”

The doors to the back of the room opened, tucked in an alcove with a tapestry pulled aside and the servants entered, clad in simple white and red garb. The minstrels took their place near the door to the room and struck up a gentle tune. The first course brought out was a salad of sweet and bitter greens with candied almonds and a steaming broth full of root vegetables, with warm loaves of fresh bread stuffed full of saffron and currants. The table was awkwardly quiet at first, the dominant conversation being Daeron’s excited chatter as he spoke about the trip from Oldtown.

“They cheered for us!” Daeron exclaimed. “Tessarion flew across Highgarden and everyone cheered to see us. And I got to see Garmund - he’s a page for Lord Tyrell now, and they left a few days after us. We took the Mander up and I saw Lord Fossoway at Cider Hall, and then Bitterbridge and we got off at Tumbleton and Aemond! We saw Vhagar! She was flying over the Kingswood. ‘Twas brilliant! She scared half the guards with us, since the only dragon they’d ever seen was Tessarion.”

The exuberance of his younger brother brought a hint of a smile across Aemond’s scowling face, and his violet gaze shifted from where he watched Jace and Baela to look down the table, leaning closer towards Abrogail who was smiling indulgently as she soaked her bread in the soup.

“Did you? She quite enjoys it out there, and roosts in the cliffs. Perhaps she thought Tessarion was a screeching swan.” Helaena giggled and Daeron sputtered in indignation at the tease.

Even Otto Hightower looked amused, a strange fondness in his expression while the king was content to enjoy his course, humming occasionally and giving a hint of a smile before drawing Lord Otto into conversation about the Westerlands and the Ironborn.

It struck him as odd. Had he not missed Daeron? Was he not interested in the journey from one coast of their land to the other? And all the boy had seen? Daeron was talking about the small villages along the Mander, and how Ser Gwayne had explained the river villages were similar to those of the Riverlands themselves.

“The Mander comes from some spring deep in the mountains around Tumbleton,” Abrogail explained. “Were it not so, it might be possible to dig a canal to connect the Mander to Blackwater Rush. Wouldn’t it be extraordinary to travel by boat from Oldtown all the way to Harrentown?”

The empty bowls were in the process of being taken away and replaced with trenchers of broiled pork, the scents of arbor red and ginger wafting from the crackled fat. Individual meat pies arrived, stuffed full of beef and cloves, cinnamon and carrots that Baela beside him dug in with gusto. There was no fish, thankfully, for Jace was tired of fish.

“Can you imagine the amount of pleasure barges that would come out of such an endeavor?” Ser Gwayne laughed. “See the sights of the Mander to the desolation of Harrenhal.”

“Harrenhal is not desolate,” Abrogail said, teeth catching on her lower lip as if she could not believe the words came out of her. “Our family has worked tirelessly since it was so graciously gifted to us by his Grace’s grandfather to uphold Princess Rhaena’s care for it.”

“Abby is more interested in aqueducts and cisterns for now,” Aegon said, drawing Jace’s attention to the first words his uncle had spoken all through dinner. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that the pair of them matched - the only difference in their clothing was Jace’s doublet was black on the left side, and Aegon’s was black on the right side. Outside of the accidental coordinating outfits, Jace’s eyes darted back to Abrogail’s. Her cheeks were flushed.

“I’ve been meaning to study the plans for Queen Alysanne’s cistern network,” Jace blurted out before he thought too much on whether or not it was a good idea to do so. He ignored the way Otto Hightower and Queen Alicent’s gazes swiveled to him.

“They’re quite fascinating,” his aunt, no, his soon to be aunt, said softly, but there was a hopeful look in her gaze. “Aemond and I looked over them while I was working on my plans for Harrenhal.”

Aemond’s violet gaze was boring into him. Jace focused on Abrogail beside him. “I’d love to see them when you have time after all the festivities.”

She smiled then, cheeks dimpling in the way Joffrey’s did, and it made Jace’s heart ache with a sensation of loss, of things that could have been. “I would enjoy that very much. Perhaps we should include Ser Gwayne in the review, so he may be reassured he’s not being sent away to a desolate ruin.” Gwayne winked at her and Jace caught the way Aegon tapped his ringed fingers against his own goblet, watching the interaction at play before him with a scowl.

“Uncle Gwayne and Daeron will accompany Aegon and Abby to Harrenhal,” Helaena explained to Baela, who barely spoke over the course of the meal and instead was watching their family with slightly narrowed and suspicious eyes. “So it’ll be the four of us here.”

“Such fun, won’t it be, nephew,” Aemond said, droll with a smirk cut across his mouth as he drank from his goblet.

Jace met the smirk with his own smile. “Of course it will, Uncle. Just like we were boys in the training yard. I look forward to testing our mettle with one another. I have fond memories of such things, and grandfather enjoyed himself, didn’t he? What was it, grandfather? We push one another down, pull each other up?”

“Hear hear!” the king agreed with a jovial laugh, rasping and amused. “We’ll throw a proper tourney for your nameday, eh?” He reached out to pat Jace’s hand and Aemond’s own fingers clenched around his goblet.

“Well, Jace’s nameday has already passed along with Aemond’s,” came Helaena’s soft voice. “But mine is next and I think I should like a beehive of my very own. Perhaps I could take the ones over in Rhaenys’ garden? By grandfather’s tower.” She cocked her head. “The apis mellifera are quite fascinating creatures, you know. Why, I read an account that explained that after the drone impregnates the queen, their genitals are ripped out and explode, having fulfilled their purpose.” Helaena hummed, thoughtful. “Truly, it is quite common in the animal kingdom for the male of the species to be subservient to the female. Perhaps I could interest you in exploring this endeavor with me, Baela? Since Jace and Aemond will be too busy hitting one another with long sticks in the yard.”

Escaping her brother’s apartments to the gardens could not have happened sooner. Two days before, the Westerlands party had arrived.

Jason Lannister made his entrance with all the pomp and circumstance the Warden of the West commanded, and was accompanied by her grandfather, Lord Rodrick Reyne of Castamere, and her half-sister in tow.

Corynna Strong had married the third Lannister, Erwin, when Abby was still a little girl. She had not seen her sister in years, not since their father and Harwin had passed. Cory had insisted on taking her to the Westerlands, to Casterly Rock and away from everything she had known and loved, all for some excuse that ‘Abrogail needs a mother now and she should be with her kin.’ Abby had sobbed into Queen Alicent’s lap, beseeching her cousin to let her stay. The memories of Alicent holding her much as she had done when Abby was small and her mother was ill, the kindness that had become fleeting within Alicent Hightower had come, continued to feel confusing in light of her recent treatment.

‘Do not cry, dear, sweet girl. You will stay here, with us. I will care for you.’

Cory had returned to Casterly Rock as there was no way to reject the Queen’s declaration, more annoyed, Abby thought, with the lack of control over someone else than any real upset. She’d given birth not long after to her first child, and it was all for the best, it seemed.

With very little of an actual relationship, it seemed Cory was making up for lost time, diving into a series of criticisms and demands at what Abby should be doing. Pinching at her upper arms and hips, clucking her tongue and commenting how she looked sickly, brows arched in disapproval at the new gowns, ready to demand new ones made until Abby found her frozen voice and said that the queen herself had approved them.

She released a long, shuddering breath and took in the air of the garden and the scent of the hydrangeas that surrounded that particular part of the path.

“There is nothing wrong with my dress,” she muttered to herself. Her underdress was a dark, oxblood red linen, black lacing along her forearms. The loose surcoat fell around her, dark blue and green damask edged in black instead of her usual silver. Her hair was unkempt, loose and wild around her shoulders, twisting down to just past her waist like an urchin.

Another sigh and she smoothed her hands over the front of her dress and turned to go back inside only to run face first into Ser Edmund Vance’s chest.

His warm hands grasped her by the arms, laughter low and vibrating through him. “Easy there, Lady Abrogail,” he said, and she felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. “Whatever are you running from?”

“Ru-running?” she stuttered in confusion, and drew herself away from the warmth of the older man and his refreshing care and kindness. “Oh, it’s all so much inside. I came looking for some fresh air, really.” Abby swallowed and cleared her throat. “Have you too come to take a turn about the gardens? We could walk together.”

Edmund gazed down at her, head cocked as if she were something amusing and he reached up to tenderly tuck some of her wild hair behind her ear. His finger gently traced the shell of it and Abby was helpless to hold back the shiver that snaked pleasantly down her spine. His light brown hair gleamed golden in the sunlight, every inch as valiant and noble as Ser Gwayne Hightower, every inch as handsome.

And he seemed interested in her.

Nothing could come of that. She was betrothed after all. But it wasn’t as if it was all official quite yet; only rumor and talk and they could very well declare that he’d marry Cassandra Baratheon at the feast instead of her.

She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and they headed down the terrace into the garden maze of flowering bushes. It was just them, it seemed, and Abby’s belly fluttered at the daring impropriety of it all.

‘If Aegon can gallivant into brothels after making hollow promises, I can enjoy the companionship of a handsome man.’ Besides, it wasn’t as if Abby was planning to sleep with him.

“Abrogail is not a name I’ve heard before,” Edmund chuckled as they walked together through the gardens.

Abby shook her head, a bright smile crossing her face. The truth of it was something that made her feel close to her athair, the love in the name more than enough to make up for strange looks. “No, my father found it in a book during his studies at the Citadel. Abrogail was the name of a Shadowbinder of the supposed founding of Asshai. It’s said that after raising the city, she retreated to Stygai, the City of Ash, where she has ruled in the dark for a thousand years, with her corpses and dragons.” A laugh escaped her. “He always liked the name, and was quite content that I had no desire to flee to Asshai to learn blood magic.” Edmund’s face was the picture of surprise and disbelief, and his laughter joined hers, warm and hearty.

“You? Named for a demon witch from Asshai? I never would have thought it,” Edmund said with a shake of the head. “You are as far from such a beastly creature as they come.”

“Why thank you, Ser Edmund. I am reassured to know that my schemes to bind all of Westeros through blood sacrifice and fire are still hidden.”

Their eyes met and Ser Edmund let out a laugh. The sound was lower than before, though no less warm, and it settled in Abby’s belly, the feeling now familiar from all the times that Aegon had roused it to the surface in her. He looked down at her, his hazel eyes hooded and Abby felt herself freeze. She knew that look now, she knew what it predated, and yet she did not move away, she did not raise her hands to stop him. Instead she bit her lower lip, worrying at the flesh there. Edmund raised a hand, his thumb gently swiping at her mouth.

“That is too sweet a mouth to destroy so, my lady,” he murmured.

‘When had he stood so close?’ Abby wondered, for there were only a scant few inches between them now.

“I’m sorry,” she said, eyes downcast, the familiar words falling from her lips though she knew that she had no reason to apologize to the man before her. She owed him nothing. Yet her feet stayed firmly planted where they were.

Edmund’s thumb and forefinger found her chin, tilting her face up toward his. He smiled at her then, a slow, easy expression, and something fluttered to life in her belly, though she was not sure if it was desire or anxiety. Time seemed to still and Abby opened her mouth to make some excuse, to pull away, to head back inside to deal with her frustrating sister. But then Edmund’s lips were on hers, a soft weight that silenced her.

‘He is so warm.’ That was her first thought as his hand cradled the soft curve of her jaw. He deepened the kiss then, a swipe of his tongue against her own. It was so different from how Aegon had kissed her. There was no battle for dominance that she was expected to lose, no licking flame of the desire that had built and built for years now. It was a nice kiss, she supposed, and Edmund was a nice man. For a moment she leaned into him, tasting him, allowing him to guide her face just where he wanted it, allowing him to lead.

The confusing feeling in her belly grew and she knew it now for what it was - a distinct sense of wrongness. For all that Aegon was, and for all that he was not, he was hers. Edmund was not, would never be.

She pulled away, ever so slightly, tilting her face back toward the ground as the heat built in her cheeks.

“Come now, Abrogail, demon queen of Asshai,” he whispered. The sound of his voice was rough, like water over the stones of the river, and it tugged at something in her, something she had only so recently discovered. He leaned in once again, this time crowding her against the wall, his mouth on hers. Her hands found his chest, fingers curling into his doublet, just as the cold stone of the wall seeped through her gown, shocking a gasp from her. “I knew you didn’t find me so terrible.” The edge of laughter in his voice should have calmed her. Instead discomfort skittered uncomfortably over her skin.

‘He doesn’t taste right,’ she thought, and as quickly as the thought came, Abby pushed it stubbornly away. Then, just as quickly, she realized he had not used her proper title. The intimacy of it doubled the uncertainty she felt and her struggling attempts to figure out how to release herself from it.

“Should I think you so terrible, Ser Edmund?” she asked him. Without waiting for an answer, she pushed herself on her toes to kiss him, to ignore the discomfort that she was feeling and tell herself that this was more than fine. Helaena had kissed other boys than just Aemond or Warren Fossoway. She had overheard Cassandra Baratheon whispering about stolen kisses behind tapestries and in alcoves with some lord. She too should get her share of kisses. Even when they didn’t make her ache low in her belly, it still stroked at the shivery bit that made her want.

Even if the kiss was only nice, even if he pressed his body against her more and stroked the heat of his palm against the curve of her waist, slipping beneath the fabric of her surcoat to bunch at the linen at the base of her spine.

A sound of protest tore from Abby and she pushed at Ser Edmund’s chest, but he did not move. He seemed to take her sound for one of desire and dropped his hand from her jaw to the curve of her breast. The discomfort and warring desire flared hot and instinct drove her. She lifted her hand and clawed her fingers across the side of the knight’s neck, unable to get her knee up or hope to push him away, to do what Harwin had taught her.

To do all the things she didn’t need to when it came to Aegon.

It was Edmund’s turn to hiss, and he drew back with a startled look. The hand that had been on her breast reached up to clap against his neck and she could see the lines of crimson her nails left in their wake.

“Unhand me,” she snapped, cursing the tremble in her voice, and shoved at his chest, trying to get his arm out from under her gown.

“Are you trying to live up to the moniker, Abrogail?” He asked in amused confusion, looking at the red on his fingertips.

“Lady Abrogail, Ser Edmund,” she forced out. Her hands were trembling and she shoved him back again now that there was some space between them. He faltered back a few steps, and Abby tried not to think that he’d done it to make her feel better, not because there was actual strength behind it, and the thought of it was almost enough to have her claw across his handsome laughing face. “You overstep with your familiarity.”

“Have I? Was it not you who kissed me just now?” He tilted his head, regarding her like a child. “How can one overstep when one has been invited.” It wasn’t a question, and Abby’s cheeks burned at the truth in his statement.

“I-I did not invite you to touch me that way, ser.” Her fingers curled against her belly but she forced them down into fists at her side, refusing to let him see how desperately she wanted to protect herself. “And you did not move when-”

“Many women give such protestations, Abrogail-”

“Lady Abrogail, ser.”

A smirk played across his handsome face, another shake of his head, and the condescension she felt from him reminded her of the same that she felt from the queen. She felt trapped and confused at the idea that these people thought her a little girl, a naive child, yet put her in these positions and expected something more of her.

The way she had expected more from Aegon.

‘You put yourself into them’, said a voice that sounded suspiciously like her brother, Larys, curled unpleasantly in her mind.

“If you’re trying to insinuate that ladies do not play at the occasional dalliance within the gardens and in the shadows of a keep, Lady Abrogail, then you have much to learn.” He reached up to try to brush her hair from her face once more and she snarled at him, reaching up to claw at the back of his hand, this time like a feral cat. She gripped his hand, nails cutting into the skin, and tore quickly.

“Leave marks,” Harwin had told her, cupping her face in his hands with the most serious look she’d ever seen. “Should someone hurt you, you tear at them like the pikes in the Red Fork in a feeding frenzy, so none could ever have cause to doubt you.”

She wanted Harwin then, to stand between her and this awful man who had come to her in friendship and kindness.

Yet, Harwin was dead and she was alone.

“I do not wish to learn anything from you, ser, if you only wish to speak down at me so.” Her voice did not tremble this time and her fists clenched in her skirt, ignoring the shine of red beneath her nails.

“Oh, but I’m sure the drunken princeling they mean to shove into our lands is an eager teacher, hm?” He chuckled at whatever look must have been on her face. “Your father was one of the smartest men in the realm, and they say you are clever as well. Do not tell me you are distracted by the gold and the titles.” He advanced and she retreated, her back hitting the wall once more, but she would not shrink against it. “If the Targaryens mean to exercise power in our realm, they will be in for a rude awakening. You, my lady, need people on your side and I am happy to be your stalwart advocate.” His voice lowered. “Your shield. Your teacher. Your-”

“Prince Aegon is my betrothed. He is my shield, my defender, and I am his. Do not mistake the colors of my bridal cloak for the loss of my family name and my loyalty to the rivers. I am Lady Strong, and my children will be raised in our way, blood of the dragon or not. If you dare to insinuate that my marriage has compromised the honor of House Strong, or our standing, I shall make it known of your dishonor towards me, which is now considered treason, in case you’ve forgotten. And if you try to touch me again, I will tell Aegon, and he will have you dragged by the hair to feed Sunfyre. He is my shield, and he shall defend me. Not you.”

Her trembling increased and Abby clutched her skirts, giving the knight nothing more than a sidelong glance as she darted around him, the dismissal she gave chafing at the manners and propriety that had been etched into her bones, even after what he had done, the words he had thrown at her.

She did not know where she was going, only that she needed to run from this. A sob tore from her throat and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth before spitting the lingering taste on the ground, as if it were enough to rid the memory.

The crescent of red beneath her fingernails made her skin crawl and she hiccuped a small, frightened sound as she burst into the Godswood.

Aegon was standing there beneath the great heart tree. He faced the carved, weeping face, his head tilted back, eyes closed as if in prayer.

She turned abruptly in hopes of avoiding him, avoiding his questions and his angry eyes, and her skirt caught between her legs and under her shoe, sending her to the ground where her hands scraped against the pavestones. She let out a pained cry before she could stop it, all hopes of being gone before he noticed her dashed as she was.

“Abby?”

“Please not now,” she whispered, wincing at the bloody scrapes on the heels of her palms. Her prayer was not powerful enough because Aegon was there beside her, his hands reaching out before he stopped himself. Aegon’s fingertips only just brushed her hand and he gazed at her. His silver hair fell into his eyes, lilac clear for once.

He had freckles over his nose and across his cheeks. She loved those freckles.

“Let me see,” he said softly. “Please?”

Abby couldn’t breathe. Her throat was choked up and she shut her eyes, hot tears rolling down her cheeks and with a nod, she held out her scraped palms to him for inspection. “I’m sorry,” she whispered instinctively.

“Why?” He asked just as softly. He pulled a handkerchief from the inside of his jerkin. He paused in the motion, brow furrowing as he realized that a dry handkerchief wouldn’t do much good. She shook her head and spat on the heels of her palms.

“There,” she sniffled. Aegon snorted and began dabbing the dirt off the scrapes.

“Clever girl.”

“I try.”

“Why are you sorry?”

Abby blinked through her tears. “What?”

“You said you were sorry. I was asking you why.” Aegon’s thumb stroked along the lifeline of her left palm in a soothing manner. There was a gentleness in him that eased the lonely fear she felt. “Unless you were apologizing for falling. Then perhaps your skirts should apologize to you.” His eyes widened, lips pressed together comically, and he shrugged.

Abby’s teeth scraped over her lower lip but it did little to disguise the twitch of her smile. “Mayhaps-” her words were cut off by the hiss of pain. It was fleeting and he shushed her softly.

“I’m sorry.” His thumb pressed gently into the center of her palm and his eyes hidden by the fall of his hair.

“Why?”

The corner of his mouth twitched and Aegon met her gaze. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Pink bloomed in the round of his cheeks and he leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. Abby released a long breath that she felt like she’d been holding for weeks. Mayhaps she had. Or perhaps it was only in the past minutes since she’d woken that morning. Since…

“I…” He breathed in her exhale and Abby was transported to the meadow in the Kingswood where everything in her begged to soothe him and tell him it was okay. Then, she held back. Here, she held back too. “I didn’t see you. I thought I did, but I wasn’t.”

Her eyes flooded with tears at his words. Aegon was not one to apologize, but since this betrothal, he had done so twice already. She knew he had meant them before, but little had changed. In the simplicity of the words that spilled from him now were different. Quiet. Vulnerable.

Truth.

Three times for a wish. Three times to make it real.

Aegon’s hand cupped her left cheek and his thumb brushed her tears away, but they were replaced with more. “I saw… Cole says every girl is the Maiden, every woman the Mother,” he whispered with his voice cracking. “My mother who has rejected me with more fervor while she clings to me for this mad future, and how she clings to her Seven as if it will make it better and yet none of them were what I needed. It was you. It was always you standing there when I had nowhere else to turn. You, who had always been there with open arms to accept me. How could I see you as anything but holy? How could I not see you as the Maiden come down to me, as if I was as worthy as Galladon of Morne for your affections. How could I not cling to you when my mother and her gods turned their backs to me. To face the idea that I was losing your acceptance when I didn’t know what I had done was too much. It was too much like everything else. Gone was the safe harbor in you, because I was so foolish as to not see the true you, only what my mother and Cole had told me you should be.” Tears shone in his lilac eyes and rolled down his cheeks as her own did. “I was blind to truths, no better than my father. I punished you for it. It’s unforgivable, to treat you so, when I’ve always wanted… I do not know.”

The prince was not prone to rambling. He was not one for a slew of words and speeches and declarations in this sort of way. While not as reticent as Aemond could be, to hear Aegon present this all to her was a surprise. He was breathless at the end of it with lilac eyes wide and focused on her and Abby’s heart clenched hard in her chest. The idea that this was something he’d tumbled over and over with himself and was looking for the opportunity to tell her took her by surprise and overcame the fear and the nerves that threatened to drown her.

Abby leaned into his touch, wet mouth dragging against the skin of his hand. Words were wind. Words did not matter coming from her right now. She knew that she had her own apologies to make, but the lack of rehearsal in Aegon's words, the way he compared himself to the man he hated most, tore at the gentle parts of her and robbed her of her own declarations, as if Aegon had borrowed them to give himself strength. Her tears came faster and Abby drew back when Aegon shifted.

"You do not ne-need to know, just hearing you…” Her breath hitched as she tried to find something to say that felt worthy, but he silenced her when he reached down to scoop her into his arms. Her lips parted and she tried to speak, but being held close like this, surrounded by the warmth of him instead of the cold ground, or being crowded against a cold stone wall by someone she did not truly want, had her falling silent. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck as he headed up the gentle incline and carefully sat them down among the twisting roots of the weirwood tree.

How often had the two of them sat here beneath the bone white boughs, sharing marchpane and honey cakes? How often she was talked into reading him tomes assigned by the maester for his studies?

He said nothing as they sat, only held her in his lap and pressed his warm lips to her forehead before tucking her head beneath his chin. Abby lifted a hand to fist into his black shirt sleeve and for the first time since the death of her family, she let herself lean into him for the warmth and reassurance that had been absent from her life for so long. The culmination of everything that had come before, everything happening now, threatened to drown her. She pressed her face further into his neck, her sobs soft against his skin, and his arms tightened around her.

Abby had seen Aegon at low and weak moments. He had wept in her lap and into her hair numerous times over the years.

Now Aegon had found her fallen, and like she had done so often for him, he lifted her up.

Aegon’s tears wet her hair and her own soaked into the collar of his shirt. Abby imagined herself sinking into him, slipping into all the gaps and spaces of his body and nestling in there where it was warm and quiet, where they could be alone together away from everything else.

“I’m sorry for what I said that night,” she whispered against his throat, her nose stuffed from her crying and voice thick and raw. “I expected something different from you, something I never asked for, and that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat and Aegon’s arms tightened around her, his fingers stroking her hair.

“You are rather terrible at asking for things,” he said in his own low voice. Abby let out an indelicate snort, sputtering at the gentle tease. She vividly recalled the last time he ordered her to tell him of her desires, and her cheeks flushed deeper than they already were. How she craved it, how she wanted more.

She shifted against him so her fingers could fidget with the buttons on his shirt, needing something to distract her hands with. “I suppose I need to practice then.” A swallow and a sigh. Aegon huffed a chuckle and his breath sent her hair fluttering. His hand was warm when it took hers and she felt him run his thumb against the back of her hand.

Then Aegon went still, and Abby swallowed. There was no resistance when he lifted her hand and there was no hiding the red crescents beneath her usually well kept nails, and the streaks of crimson on her fingertips he hadn’t seemed to notice before.

Fair enough. Aegon often missed the details.

“What’s this?” he asked in that low tone, the one that vibrated through his chest and into her very bones. “Abby?”

Cold swept through her veins and a terrible knot of anxiety twisted tight in her belly. Shame followed quickly after the cold, a red hot sensation that burned along her neck and stung at the corners of her eyes, painful in her cheeks. It was one thing for men to engage in such things. It was another for women, let alone someone betrothed to the prince of the realm. She could still feel the vicious smack of the queen’s palm against her face, the cold and remote look in the woman’s large eyes as they tore her apart.

She had been given a duty as Aegon’s betrothed, and it was to fix him. It wasn’t to love him. It wasn’t to be intimate and passionate with him. How ugly the thought was. How cruel it was to think they had betrothed them, while thinking that she could not love the wreck that was Aegon, that she cared for in spite of his faults and flaws. How could she do anything but love him?

Helaena had her share of stolen kisses. Many of the ladies of court had. Why should she be any different? Aegon certainly was no chaste, virtuous son. He would come to their marriage bed well practiced.

Abby’s mouth was dry and she swallowed harshly. Nerves were night moths fluttering wildly in her belly. “I…” Another clearing of her throat, and Abby lifted her gaze to meet his. “Ser Edmund tried to take more than what I had allowed. It seems chivalry was not part of his knight’s vows.”

Silence grew between them while Aegon studied her face and she felt bare before him. There was no hiding behind her hair even as she half tried to. There was no disguising the flush of her skin and the trembling of her mouth. She wanted to beg him not to be angry at her, that she didn’t intend to make the knight think he was owed more, but Abby kept her mouth shut. She had kissed him just as he kissed her and it had been her choice to do it.

Aegon studied her face with her hand clutched tight in his, thumb pressed into the center of her palm. She didn’t look away. She would not look away, no matter what kind of shame she felt. Defenses pushed at her throat. Little hedges like ‘I promise I didn’t encourage him’ were tempting, but she swallowed them down as she tried to swallow the shame she felt and the anger at how the man had behaved.

Slowly, Aegon shifted the arm that curled around her so he could lift his hand to cradle the back of her head, his fingers in her hair. The touch sent a shiver down her spine and chased away the heated curl of shame with the intimacy of it. His thumb stroked against her palm and he gave a slow nod.

“I suppose with how I’ve treated you, it’s the least you could have done for yourself, hunītsos.” The use of the endearment took her by surprise, and she met his gaze, the pupils blown wide with a simmering anger. “But if this is from protecting yourself, I’ll bring you his hands should you wish.”

Her laugh was short and shocked, tearful as it was relieved and she curled her fingers around his. “I do not need his hands. He walked away wounded in both body and pride after I told him that you would have him drug by the hair to feed to Sunfyre. Though I would hate for our poor boy to be fed such a meal.”

Aegon stared at her in ill disguised surprise at what she said. She couldn’t tell what was going on through his mind. Was he upset with her? Did he think she asked for it? That she had led him on how he had accused her of?

“You, my fierce Abrogail,” he finally said, hand still cradling her head and his other came up to trace a knuckle along the softness of her cheek, “were brilliant. You hide your claws and fangs so well, but they are sharp to be sure.” Aegon’s cheeks were lightly flushed, lilac eyes dancing with a tumult of emotions she could not untangle. But she knew his anger lay not with her. “Our poor boy?”

Abby scrunched her face up shyly. “Sunfyre likes me and I like him. You have to share him.”

“I have to?”

“You must.”

Aegon rolled his eyes and nudged his nose against hers. “I mean it truly. I do not enjoy the idea of someone else kissing you, but it pales to the treatment after. I would not have you hurt and afraid. I know how men can be.” He faltered then but Abby could fill in the details. She understood that Aegon had been that sort of man. ‘Was he still that sort of man?’ she wondered.

“Were you aware he’d gotten a child on one of my maids barely a moon ago? He did. I gave the girl moon tea and money for her to go back home to her family and find a new position, since she was clearly incapable of refuting my son’s advances. Very much like you seem incapable of refuting him.”

Her voice was a quiet breath and she pressed against his chest. “Would… if you kissed me and I didn’t want it, or if you touched me and I didn’t want it, even if maybe I seemed like I did, o-or I had changed my mind. Even when you’re my husband and you have your rights. I know you have your rights and my duty and-”

“I would stop,” he cut in. Aegon’s voice was firm, and she knew that he meant it. “I never want to look at you and see fear in your eyes. Fear that I put there. I will take anger, I will take pity and sadness, but I could not...” His voice had started strong, but as he went along, it wavered, thick with emotion until he fell quiet with a shake of his head. “When you looked at me that night of the feast, the words that you said-”

“I should not have-”

“Stop,” he commanded, not harshly, but firm. “I need to say this. When you said those things, the idea of you seeing me as something sick and broken, I could not abide it. I could not breathe. If you saw me as a monster, as something not worth your touch, then there was nothing else for me.” Aegon tilted back, putting space between them, his head thumping gently against the tree, and he turned his gaze to the gentle whisper of the blood red leaves above them. “I was harsh with you in my pain. You caused me hurt and I wanted to throw it back tenfold. Why should I try, if I upset you so? If you no longer leaned into my touch, for the little time I had it? I… fuck.”

Aegon would not look at her, and Abby felt a knot of worry in her chest, the cold and hot feeling twisting through her. His hands had fallen away from her as Aegon drew in on himself, but she did not pull away from him, did not reject him, and he did not shove her away. “We didn’t make promises,” she whispered.

“We did. You asked me to only ever touch you that way.” He pulled his fingers through his hair, tugging on the silver strands as he took a deep breath. “I… took the Lefford girl into my bed.”

Marla Lefford, Lord Loras Lefford’s younger sister who had arrived with the Riverlands party. A pretty maid around her age, with pin straight brown hair and bright green eyes. She’d been nice, if a little flighty, when they had met.

Abby felt a rush of jealousy but swallowed it down, letting it burn all the way to her gut, a new sort of pain. A nod. “Were you kind to her?”

He might have snorted a sad sort of laugh, but there was no effort in it. Honesty was the order of the day and he shrugged. “I wasn’t unkind. I wasn’t the first one there, but I think she expected more. More care, perhaps. More enthusiasm, certainly.” He swallowed audibly and looked up at her. “I’ve been… engaging with Cassandra Baratheon. I didn’t take her to bed. I wouldn’t.”

The memory of Cassandra Baratheon speaking of stolen moments in alcoves and behind tapestries came in stark clarity and she felt a coil of heat and sick. She’d listened to her and never realized that it was Aegon she’d been referencing.

“Why not?” She didn’t want to know, but the words escaped her before she could lock them away. The jealousy burned hotter as she thought of Cassandra Baratheon and her womanly secrets, her sharp laugh and the tossing of her hair. How beautiful and worldly she was. How stormy and clever she was. How so obviously not Abby.

She was the better match for Aegon in the long run. Cassandra Baratheon was the heir to the Stormlands as it stood right now.

But Cassandra Baratheon did not grow up at Alicent Hightower’s knee. Cassandra Baratheon would not be a tool sought to control Aegon by his mother through her. Perhaps that was what made him want her. Abby thought she would choke on the notion.

“If I took her to bed, I knew she’d hurt you with it,” he said softly. “For whatever that is worth, I didn’t want to hurt you in that way. Whatever was happening was between us, I would not put you in her sights with my foolish choices.”

“She’s coming to Harrenhal with us,” Abby said in the same quiet voice.

Aegon clucked his tongue, a helpless look. “I have been known to, as you say, not think things through.” He looked at her then, helpless and nervous, tentative and hopeful. Brave, in the way he so rarely exhibited. “We do not have to bring her to Harrenhal. If you do not want her there, then she won’t be there.”

Her eyes rounded in surprise at the decision placed in her hands. She held it, unsure of what to do. Courtesy, propriety, the swallowing of unpleasant emotions, all of it compelled her to answer that she would put the matter behind her and allow Cassandra to come with them, so as not to offend the fickle Lord Borros. It would be the right thing to do. The forgiving thing to do.

The Seven preached such forgiveness.

Septa Lyserra taught those virtues, yet the woman had pulled her from Aegon’s arms, torn the ring forcefully from hair where it had gotten caught, sought to punish and inflict pain for something that Abby did not find wrong, did not think she had anything to be sorry for. That was not kindness. That wasn’t gentleness, or understanding. It was cruel.

Should she tell Aegon what had happened in his mother’s room? To explain? No, she couldn’t. She couldn’t come between Aegon and his mother.

But how she ached to say something. How she wanted to tell Aegon the pain that had been caused, and to be defended, to be comforted and protected. How she wanted to use her voice to speak of the hurt that she’d been caused.

“I do not want Cassandra Baratheon at Harrenhal,” she said in a quiet but firm voice. Her eyes were wet and she still trembled from the emotions tumbling through her. “I do not begrudge you what you engaged in with her, and I’m glad you told me. But I do not want her there. I do not want her in our home, where we’re to make our life together. I do not care what it says of me, of what gossip would spread; if they call me insecure, if they call me jealous. I do not want her there.” Her breath hitched and she reached up to drag the edge of her red sleeve across her wet eyes. “You’re a prince. You’re charming and beautiful, and you ride the most beautiful dragon in the world. I want to be yours, Aegon. I’ve only ever wanted to be yours and… and I-I want you to be mine. I want you to want me as much as I want you. I do not care about the Lefford girl, or Cassandra Baratheon, whatever brothel visits, or what else came before. I am selfish enough to admit I want you to myself now. I want our marriage, our marriage bed, to be only for us.”

Aegon looked at her like he’d never properly done so and Abby’s hands fluttered up to cover the flush of her cheeks, tilting her head to hide behind the fall of her messy curls. For the first time the two of them sat there with their hearts held out to one another, without dressing or armor. They were naked, their ribs cracked open, and she was begging to crawl inside the cage of him, to wrap herself around his heart and be surrounded by him, bone and flesh knit together to hold her close and keep her safe and warm.

“Hunītsos,” he murmured, and he wrapped his hands around her wrists to tug them from her face. She resisted and he snorted, tugging more until he had her wrists held. “Abby, look at me.”

Her resistance gave way and he held both her wrists in a single hand so he could cup her left cheek in the rough warmth of his palm, his fingers stroking where they tucked into her hair. Aegon was smiling softly. It was a ghost of one, barely there, and he simply watched her, searching for answers to questions she did not know.

Then his smile widened and he nodded and Abby thought she finally knew what question he had been asking all this time.

It was not conscious to fall forward into his touch. He pulled her in and the feel of his mouth was, before everything, right. The taste of spiced wine and something inherently Aegon. There was no sense of wrongness or unsettling discomfort. Kissing Aegon felt like coming home. It felt like being wrapped in a blanket warmed by the fire on a cold night. Gently, he used the grip on her wrists to tug her closer and when he released her, she twined her arms around his neck and his freed hand looped around her waist to cradle her close. The kiss did not deepen. It was nearly chaste. It was a dream. It was everything she missed over these past weeks.

The groan that Aegon released when they parted shot straight through her, and it took everything in her not to whine for more. She wanted to chase his pouty mouth and dive into the pool of heat that had gathered between them. Instead, he nuzzled his nose against hers before resting his forehead to hers.

“I want to be better for you. I want to be who you see me as. I want to be worthy of you, but I do not know how. I do not know if I’m good enough.” Abby’s fingers lifted to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck and breathed in his exhales. “I am afraid” went unsaid but she could hear it woven amidst his words. The desire to comfort him was there, threatening to overwhelm her, to push aside her own pain, to reassure him without doubt that it was fine.

“Who do you want to be, mo realta geal?”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

She pressed a kiss to his lower lip. Soft and sweet, a gentle reassurance. Aegon exhaled and she could feel his shiver match her own. “I have always believed that you did not have to be what you were. To throw yourself into wine and women, to put down your swords; these are things I wish you had not done, but I understood why. When you said those words to me, when you lashed out in pain, I grew angry because I realized you were supposed to be different when it came to me. I also was not seeing you fully. But I see you now, and I still want you. I choose you and whomever you choose to become. Do not do it for my approval. Do it because it is what you want most. You do not have to be anyone else but Aegon, and whatever that means to you.”

Aegon’s nod was minute, the gesture reminding her of the little boy he’d once been, shy and nervous. “Do you mean it?” He whispered, and she would not have heard him had they not been so close. His voice was thick and his eyes shined with tears.

“I do,” she whispered.

He sniffled and nodded again. “You do not need to be my mother. You do not need to be one of those perfect ladies. You are fierce and passionate and you are so beautiful when you are free. You are not the Maiden or Mother or whatever the seven hells demand. You are Abrogail Strong and I’ve wanted you for as long as I have had memory.”

“I don’t know if I know how to be anything else, Aegon.” Her voice was so small she could barely hear herself.

“Neither do I, Abrogail,” he said with his own soft kiss to her trembling mouth. Abby whimpered and his chuckle was soft and deep, snaking through her with a heat that made her hands shake. “We’ll be fools together, won’t we? Stumbling in the dark to figure it out.”

A shaky laugh sounded and she shook her head with a shy and tremulous smile. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

“That you are. Never fear, I shan’t let go of your hand.”

“Good, because I will not let go of yours either.” Abby felt her cheeks flush and watched his own do the same. It had been so long since she heard him sing or pluck the strings of his gittern or lyre. “I would like to hear you sing me songs again.” He had done so when they were young, but Aegon’s interests had fallen to the side as they’d grown, the same as her own interests in painting and archery had done. Could they, perhaps now, reclaim them?

He exhaled, blowing moonlit hair out of his eyes. “Well, then it’s settled. Might as well chain us together.”

“Is that not what marriage is supposed to be?” She asked with a teasing grin and a pinch to his side. Aegon squealed with a high pitched sound and her grin broadened. “Ticklish, my prince?”

She found another spot along his ribs and he squirmed with another flurry of strangled giggles as she tickled him. His hands found her and the soft, tender bits beneath her arms and her shrieks of laughter joined him as they fell sideways in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

[chapter fourteen]

[kelpiemomma]

I find it great that a lot of the fandom looked at two out of time, out of place characters. Ingo and Protagonist, two characters with similar origins and have so much to relate to and thus fans agree that it is criminal and inexcusable that Gamefreak barely interact in Canon.

Everyone literally said "Screw Canon, These two are found family, train guy is dad/uncle/friend now

Love your PLA fics of that dynamic. I don't know if you're still open to prompts. You don't have to do this if you don't feel it but here's a prompt I got for you.

Explore Ingo's and Akari's relationship that develops post-game.

Many fics have them bond during the main plot but not much do post game events.

(You could touch events that occured preplot or during plot and explore how characters felt before they met)

Ohhhh interesting interesting interesting..... I think that's because most of us find it easiest to maneuver them around in-game events, and I don't think I've done too much post-gaming myself (easily distracted, started two other playthroughs)

I am definitely intrigued by this idea though. Do you mean they have their basic interaction in canon, but the further relationship develops post game? And what are we counting as post game- calming all the nobles & fighting palkia and dialga, but pre-volo? Or is Volo still part of the main playthrough?

Because I can see (rolling in the dad direction, as I do, in various directions) Ingo being distantly friendly with the protagonist (let's say Akari, as is my usual :,D sorry) He provides training at the dojo with Zisu, sees Akari there mostly, but doesn't much interact with her otherwise. I truly can't imagine him seeing her kicked out of jubilife and not doing anything- moral-wise, at least, I feel like he would say or do something. Even if he felt it wasn't his place as someone not of Jubilife, I think that he (and most of us, I would hope) would protest kicking a kid out of a safe area. It's possible he either wasn't there (returned to the Highlands for a time) or saw it happening, but didn't see Akari's face and assumed she was just going out for another mission. By the time he does hear about it, or understand what happened, and goes looking Akari has already been picked up by Volo. Ingo asks Irida if she knows where Akari can be found and Irida promises she's somewhere safe but can't say more. So until she returns, all Ingo can do is be satisfied that Akari is safe. He no longer trusts Jubilife residents as he did, especially Kamado, and spends less time there. When Akari returns having tamed the two gods, Ingo decides that maybe it's a little fucked up that this kid has done all this on her own. She's still just like 15 at most, right?

He attempts to strike up conversations at the dojo without being creepy, because some part of him is well aware how it might seem if someone of his age shows too much interest in a teenager (the very thought turns his stomach in disgust. He feels regretful that he couldn't help earlier.) but thankfully Akari likes to talk about the Pokedex, and Ingo is a walking Pokedex as well in a way. There's no one able to battle quite like him, which actually helps Akari with her research. She starts searching him out more because he never requires anything or expects anything of her, and they can talk about pokemon or item crafting or food easily. In fact, she starts going to him when she finds strange pokemon in space-time rifts because Ingo almost always finds them familiar and has something to say about them. Sometimes they'll run into each other in the highlands and Ingo will take her somewhere cool, or just take her to a neat little meadow and tell her to chill out because she's spiraling in anxiety over the work she still has to do. They end up bonding over little things and helping each other, with Ingo gradually becoming the first person Akari goes to when she has news because his enthusiasm is always genuine and a little extra but it's nice.

They bond further after Akari battles Volo and comes down from the summit looking absolutely wrecked and in tears. She's been betrayed and had what she thought was a dear, close friendship destroyed. Ingo doesn't pry as much as he wants to- he's upset that she's upset, and he wants to know what happened because this time they're friendly. He cares for her as family and wants to hurt whoever hurt her. But Akari comes first, and so he takes her to his home and lets her wallow in her misery until she can tell him what happened. He asks if she wants him to track Volo down and take care of him, but Akari denies it and says he doesn't need to act like her dad when he isn't. Which kind of makes Ingo stop and think bc... Well. He doesn't have kids. Has never had much interest in having kids. But he likes Akari, and he thinks that she could use a father figure, and he wouldnt mind filling those shoes... So he accepts her request, but he tells her then and there that he doesn't mind acting as her father (figure) because he does genuinely care for her and her well being. Which isn't something Akari was expecting and she kind of stammers... Declines... Takes off. And it hurts but Ingo lets her go. It's her decision to accept or not, and he won't force her one way or another. He appreciates their friendship too much.

Akari avoids him for a couple weeks, which sucks but Ingo stands by his decision to not push. He continues his work in the Highlands, continues training at the dojo, until one day he finds himself standing in front of the photo parlor. He's gotten a picture of himself before, but he was alone and it didn't feel right. It felt like something was missing. Someone should've been by his side, at his back. He's lost in thought until he feels the wristband of his coat get tugged on and looks to see Akari standing beside him, shifty. She apologizes for running off and avoiding him, explains that she had to think, and he accepts her apology. Says he understands, because it was something he'd gradually come to realize and that he shouldn't have sprung it on her. And Akari is clearly Not Of This Time because she gets quiet and then asks him, really fast and kind of quiet, that he meant like being her DAD and not her DADDY right, because she REALLY didn't see him like that and- and Ingo immediately says NO ABSOLUTELY NOT. Just... Dad. Acting as a caretaker. Keeping her safe. Being a place of refuge. Platonic father feelings ONLY. And Akari looks relieved, and Ingo is also relieved because he definitely doesn't see her that way and is glad she now understands that. He shudders at the thought, and she laughs at him, and Ingo pretends to glare at her and scold her but she settles in a little closer.

She looks at the building with all the photos and paintings and asks what he was up to. He explains that he was wondering if he should try getting another picture done, that he'd had one taken before but had needed to throw it away because looking at it made him feel uncomfortable. Akari asks if he thinks it has something to do with the man in white and ingo... nods, because now that she mentioned it, yes. Because the man in white is not here, and Ingo is alone. Apparently he says that out loud, and Akari's face flushes as she takes his hand and drags him inside. Because Ingo's not alone anymore, she says, because they're family. So until the man in white is back, she's going to be where he was. And they take the picture, and it's not exactly perfect... She doesn't fit like he thinks she should, and the pose is weird and not quite correct, but as he looks at the photo she handed him before going to grab some of her gear to take up to the Highlands - there's something she needs to check on, she said, and since Ingo has decided she's his responsibility obviously her DAD needs to go with her! - he feels... Better. Not fixed, but still... Complete. He's not alone. He has family now.

He tucks the photo into his coat for safe keeping, and when Akari returns to his side (she said she'd see him as her father, would she call him dad? Should he call her his daughter? They'll need to talk about it.) he smiles, and she smiles back, and for now everything will be okay. He is not part of an incomplete set anymore.

[bageltopia]

may I ask how you plan out your fics? I’ve been wanting to get back into writing, especially for multi chapter fics, but I’m not quite sure how to approach it. I’ve always liked the structure of your fics so I was just wondering if you have any tips! Thanks!

hello, sorry this took a while to answer! but sure, i’d be happy to share and thanks for enjoying my fics!

first: this is something that differs from a couple other writers, but i never think of my fics as i’m writing them as “multi chap” fics in the traditional sense. i just think of it as one cohesive story, and then decide as i go (or after the first draft is done) how best to break it up the sections into chapters in order to best serve the story. i’m just not a “release the chapters as they’re written” person, and that is something that really colors my writing and planning process. i find this allows me the greatest degree of control over my storytelling. if i decide something from the beginning is no longer flowing or serving the story the way i want it to, i can go back and adjust it as many times as i want because it’s not published yet.

i also am NOT a discovery writer when it comes to longfics. for shorter things - let’s say anything 15-20k or under - i often let the plot make itself known to me, but for longer ideas, i like to plan.

but i know other writers operate differently, so YMMV!

i wrote a lot more on this than i thought i would, so rest is under the cut

as far as planning - i often start with a huge infodump doc where i just write a bullet-pointed steam of consciousness for all of my thoughts/screaming/inspiration/mental breakdowns lol/etc. after that’s all out, i organize it into different plot points that i want to address.

if you’ve ever looked into the way tv shows are written, i like to plan my longer ideas around a somewhat similar framework - there is the A plot, the B plot, the C plot, etc. maybe even a D or E depending on the show, running as a through line across all the episodes. and since this is fan fiction, one of those plots (if not the main one) is almost always going to be the romance between the main pairing, unless you’re writing gen fic. i personally like to add other story-driven elements in addition to the romance that allow me to add character development, mystery, excitement, intrigue, etc.

i’ll use Lightning’s End, my 52k lusan fic, as an example here. i only had 2 major plotlines that i thought of for that fic. 

A = sanji developing + realizing his feelings for luffy

B = the island they land on and the mystery of it (and how it conceivably grounds the work in canon)

these two things unfolded pretty concurrently in LE, but they might not always!

i like to weave the 2 elements together, decide how they interact with one another, and then actually put together the events of the fic - sketch out what actually is going to happen and how. i don’t really do intensive scene-by-scene outlining other than when i’m in the actual writing process, but i want to know any broad strokes before i put pen to paper!

for LE, i can distill this down in “chapter 1” (or the first 10k) as: the storm sweeps sanji + luffy overboard >> they stargaze and have an emotional breakthrough discussing their pasts >> they find out they’re not alone on the island.

when i actually start writing, i decide what actually is concretely happening in the scene, where they are, what little things each character is doing in the moment, etc.

i also keep a running log of little details i want to remember to sprinkle throughout; anything funny, sweet, inspiring, angsty. physical or behavioral characteristics i want certain characters to have, etc. so i can keep track of them and remember to make them consistent. some of these even end up becoming motifs for the story!

in a nutshell, i like to approach longfics from a big —> small view. decide the plot points, construct the conflict/resolution for each, decide how each of those individual conflicts play into each other, and then decide the scenes and details.

for Lightning’s End, weaving the 2 plot points together got me to 5 chapters at 52k total. for moonlighters, i had a lot more plot points—that themselves required more exposition and development—to get through. approximately 5 or 6, according to my notes, and then i went through the process of making sure they were all interwoven throughout each of the scenes and events i had planned or written. circling back to make sure each of my scenes were always serving one or more of these plots was key for me.

i’ve talked a little bit on discord and twitter of the notion project i’ve made for moonlighters haha…if you happened to have seen that:

i want to make it clear that notion was only ever a tool for me to organize these thoughts that i was already putting into practice from my previous multi chap fics, just in a way that was a lot more regimented and trackable. and highly tailored to me and my planning process. you could probably accomplish the same thing on google sheets, or docs, or excel, or even on pen and paper. i just happen to like notion’s system :D :D

[fleetingdesires]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💛

Danni ❤️ It's taken me way too long to do this, but I have some time now so let's get to it. In vaguely descending order:

Marching On | E | 10k | Snarry (and various background relationships)

Fifteen years into Severus and Harry's relationship, the status quo becomes untenable. Harry grapples with no longer being able to turn a blind eye towards Severus' bit on the side, while Severus finally realises that his best might not have been good enough for Harry. And Teddy? Well, he's just the catalyst that brought home the hard truths.

Why I love it: It's love in all its messy reality. Sometimes we make choices we come to regret. Sometimes we make choices we don't regret until someone makes us regret it. Sometimes that regret doesn't feel real or genuine except to the person who feels it. And sometimes, the thing that is sacrificed for love is a piece of your soul. Is that a valid tradeoff? Don't know. Ask yourself. I still am.

The Lover and the Boytoy | E | 10k | Snucius, Drucius, Draco/Lucius/Severus

Draco has been thirsty for his Daddy’s best friend, Severus Snape - and Lucius knows it. Of course he'll indulge his boy, even (or maybe, especially) if it means sharing his lover.

Why I love it: Yet another messy situation. I love them. Sudden emotional intrigue in the middle of a PWP? I didn't see it coming and neither will anyone else. Thanks for spawning brain rot, fic, I *appreciate* it. I guess.

All out of Sorts | E | 1.8k | Snarry

The Sorting Ceremony is for children. When adults attempt it, the results can be rather unexpected as Headmaster Snape, the most Slytherin of Slytherins, finds out. Bad-tempered huffing and puffing ensues.

Why I love it: I made Severus a Hufflepuff. It's fucking hilarious. That's all. 😂

Playing Games | E | 9k | Albus Severus Potter/James Sirius Potter

James thinks they’re just playing Truth or Dare. Al is playing a different game altogether.

Why I love it: Feels like the hottest thing I've ever written. May be influenced by @phenomenalasterisk's amazing podfic of it, which made me blush so hard while driving (my first mistake, really) I had to stop listening halfway through for fear of crashing. Just thinking about it makes me a little hot, ngl.

Settling/Unsettling | E | 29k | Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes

Mycroft loves the one man he cannot have - his brother. It doesn’t help that their relationship is tattered beyond recognition. When Gregory Lestrade enters his life, he is pleasantly surprised to find that the man is satisfactory, both in and out of bed. If he can't have the one man he wants, he may as well settle for second best. But what happens when events draw the brothers closer together, and the impossible becomes probable?

Why I love it: It is not my finest piece of work. A diamond in the rough is a more accurate description of it. But damn, I still love the plot and want to rewrite it someday.

[skarabrae-stone]

For the WIP title ask game, I am intrigued by the title "Every dog my father raised". Please gush. ^_^

Thanks for the ask!

This is a fic based on this post . (I'm linking to the post on my own blog, because the original seems to have been deleted.)

Basically, it's a Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes royal AU where Bucky, the prince, was sent into exile by his father, King George; meanwhile, his best friend and lover, Steve, became captain of the guard for King George. Bucky comes back with an army and overthrows his father. He believes that Steve betrayed him and chose loyalty to King George over Bucky-- but he still decides to use Steve for his political ends rather than killing him.

I think that's where the concept in the original post ends-- I decided to flesh this out and make it into a full story.

In my version, Steve was blackmailed into working for King George-- George told Steve that he had spies following Bucky in his exile, who would kill Bucky unless Steve followed orders. George made Steve a captain in the military and then forces him to do all kinds of dirty work for him, stuff that others might refuse to do. Everyone thinks Steve is George's right hand man because he's so incredibly "loyal". I was thinking the kingdom might be at war and Steve started out being sent on dangerous missions across the border, which he succeeded at so well that he ends up becoming captain of the royal guard as a "reward" (which is basically a means for George to assert further control over him).

Bucky, hearing about all this from a distance, believes that Steve is truly loyal to George. This is a huge betrayal, especially because Bucky's original exile is because he and Steve were caught in bed together (or something like that, not quite sure yet), and same-gender relationships are illegal plus George is a piece of work and super homophobic. Bucky even suspects that Steve never really loved him-- their romance was just an excuse to frame Bucky so George could get rid of a son he never liked.

I haven't written much more than the opening scene, which is where Bucky comes to visit Steve in prison and tells him he needs him, but refuses to hear Steve's side of things when Steve tries to explain.

This is on the back burner until I can finish some of my other WIPs (I still owe a couple of fics for Marvel Trumps Hate 2021), but I'm really excited to turn it into a longer story!

[yeshihellodani]

Okay, I'm gonna post this, probably it's stupid (perhaps it definitely is) and maybe I might delete it later because it's 2 am and my english is bad so probably this won't be coherent, but I have come across these posts on the obikin tag and it has become frustrating.

The fact that people don't know how to differentiate fiction from reality is outstanding to the point that's it's not even funny anymore, and the amount of them accusing people who like or interact with the ship of being pedophiles and groomers is even more upsetting.

No one is normalizing grooming, no one is glorifying pedophilia, and no one is fetichizing mlm relationships. Most of the obikin shippers are against these stuff and would report that shit to the authorities if they see it happen on real life, because that's the thing, it's fucking fiction not the real life, these aren't real people, these are fictional characters living in a fictional world.

Also, most of the content of obikin is about when both Obi-Wan and Anakin are ADULTS and that one of them develops their attraction towards the other at the beginning or in the middle of the clone wars (when Anakin is no longer Obi-Wan's apprentice and is a Jedi Knight and a fucking general, tho there are exceptions, however it's treated like something complicated and complex. No to mention that sometimes is where the creator themself can project onto the characters and maybe vent on them, have that in mind).

In no way is fetichizing mlm relationships because most of the people who ship it are lgbtq+ people themselves.

They are also using the whole argument of: "oh but they are convincing and exposing children of this type of content and therefore confusing them and manipulating them 😭😭" I'm sorry, but most of the obikin blogs and content are 18+ y'know? Stuff that is made by ADULTS FOR OTHER ADULTS, it's not their fault that minors are sneaking into their blogs and creations even when they have explicitly implied that it is not for kids. They have also leave the corresponding trigger warnings, content warnings and additional tags when they post a drawing, edit, gif or fic to precisely prevent from children stumbling across that content.

Listen, if you don't like obikin because it's not you thing or it squicks you or because it triggers something that's totally valid and okay, and you are in your right to elaborate on why it doesn't suit to you and why you want to avoid it (there are content that I personally dislike and gives me the ick, I myself feel uncomfortable when people ship Obi-Wan and Anakin when they are still in their master/padawan dynamic, so I just avoid it most of the time) but for the love of God don't go harassing people and accusing them of shit that it's not true, you don't know that person and what are they up to, so there's no way of you knowing if they are actually the monsters you think they are.

People tend to forget that fiction is there to explore stuff that is unethical and questionable in real life without hurting anyone, that sometimes people enjoy that content not because they think it's okay but because to them it's interesting, intriguing, because they are just curious, and sometimes they even consume it because it's comforting to them (something they can vent to when it's associated to something traumatic or unpleasant they went through).

[whipplefilter]

So I just watched a test animation thing on YouTube that I think is really interesting. In it, Lightning is glaring at Sally and says “What is your deal? What is your problem for the past couple months you’ve been a ghost!” I know it’s a test and not a canon thing that they were considering for the plot, but if it were what do you think it was about? What would be the context?  You don’t have to make a fic or anything, I just like to know your thoughts. Thanks! ❤️

I think scenes like that are so interesting, because they feel so diametrically opposed to what I know and feel about a set of characters and their relationship. But I think that's why I find them so appealing. Because it totally does push that question, what happened here?

I have a fandom where people used to complain with some regularity about the main characters being "written OOC" (in canon). I tend not to agree with their critique, but I also loved these parts, because it suggests the characters so full and whole that "acting OOC" can also be part of their characterization; that their behaviors and reactions can be situational, can vary from day to day, can be impacted by the slow burn of situations accumulating and emotions left unattended.

I will be honest, this is not the relationship I imagine for Sally and Lightning, but I am still intrigued by the idea that opportunities for growth and/or tension can exist between them where Lightning is not the element of chaos incarnate.

Under what circumstances does Sally become a ghost? Is it stuff back home in LA? Is it actually still very hard to keep the Cozy Cone running, even with Radiator Springs "back on the map," because running a small business in northern AZ is hard?? Does being "back on the map" introduce new tensions in terms of what is revitalization, what is preservation, what is potentially gentrification/"urban renewal" in ways that will negatively impact COL in the region?

Or maybe it's something less cerebral. Maybe it's about Doc--who wasn't only Lightning's mentor. He was Sally's, too.

I feel like Lightning's grief is surge-like and immediate, if also likely more private than cars who don't know him might expect. And while it's recursive and probably something he will always carry, it had its watershed moments in those days and months right after Doc died.

I think Sally's comes slower. She's a pragmatist; a troop-rally-er. She's the one who organizes the funeral, executes the estate, does all of the business of death. She keeps the town together in the exact same way she did before, developing game plans and holding space for mourning and thinking of ways the town can honor Doc. But when all that has gone, and the immediate need for action, for response, has passed, that's when it really hits her. When she can no longer turn her grief into acts of service, it turns into something else.

I have more difficulty imagining a context where Lightning would be confrontational with Sally. Not that he doesn't get stressed and shout at things, but this is Sally. But maybe he's still grieving, too, unsure of how to parse the aforementioned recursivity of his emotions (in his mind, he had this narrative arc already, and it culminated in the Hudson Hornet Piston Cup!), feeling Sally drawing away and falling hard into his sense of losing another friend who means everything to him.

I feel like timeline-wise this is probably the Cars 2 AU where Lighting doesn't run the WGP and all this goes down instead.

[witchersgoldenbard]

Do you have any geraskier fic recs for the weird slump that happens when you’re anxious about the semester, but that surfaces as deciding you’re a fucked up weirdo and then crawling into bed and hating yourself? Bc that is where I am 🥺 I’m in the US so the semester starts next week for me, and I am barely functional

hello my darling nonnie, i am sorry you’re in a slump, please know i am sending you all the hugs and cuddles 🥺💛 you’re not a fucked up weirdo, you’re lovely and deserve all the snuggles! In lieu of snuggles, i’m giving you some of my personal favourite geraskier fics – which are not nearly as many as i would like because i spent a long time in a (reading) slump myself. i tried to sort them for you becuase they got... a bit out of hand 💛

Canon-world AUs

of music and motion and love by WriteThroughTheNight

T | 12k | Jaskier and Yen are siblings, many feels, magic jaskier

When Jaskier was four, he slipped his mother’s watch and went to the field to gather a bouquet of dandelions. He climbed back into the yard, as stealthy as a child really cared to be, and crept over to the barn. In the barn, lived a secret. OR Jaskier comes from a far humbler background, and would really like to know why Yennefer never came back for her youngest brother.

the heart is a winged beast by @greyduckgreygoose

E | 99k words | warlord!geralt, mutual pining, intrigue

After the turmoil of war robbed him of his birthright, Jaskier endures life as a simple Bard in the court of Kerack, under the protection of his cruel, ambitious cousin. Until the night that Jaskier catches the attention of the Geralt of Rivia, Lord of the Clan of the Wolf, and is terrified to be gifted to the barbarian mercenary as a bed-warmer. However, Jaskier soon learns that the White Wolf is not the man his dark reputation makes him out to be. He might, in fact, be Jaskier's only hope of escaping his harsh circumstances. If only Jaskier can convince Geralt to allow him to remain at his side... if only Jaskier can avoid losing his own heart in the process...

Geralt Deserves Soft Things (series) by Bedalk05

mostly T | 200k words | wolf shifter jask, soft boys, all the feels

This series is almost entirely pure fluff, featuring shifter!Jaskier and a whole lotta cuddles and feels all around. Most of these can be read as a stand-alone if you’d like.

(i honestly love this so much, some of the first geraskier i read. perfect comfort 💛)

Modern AUs

Yours, Dandelion by dapperyklutz

T | 17k words | teenagers, soft boys, all the feels, pining

Jaskier has a secret. Well, he has two. The first is that he's in love with Geralt Rivia, captain of the rugby team and his childhood best friend. Only, they're no longer best friends. His second secret is that he writes poems dedicated to Geralt and anonymously posts it at the school's Freedom Wall under the pseudonym of Dandelion. And the thing is, Dandelion has become so popular - more popular than Jaskier - that it's getting more difficult to keep his silence when it's clear that Geralt is starting to develop feelings for the mysterious lovesick poet. How naïve was Jaskier to think that it would be so easy.

velvet and steel by balladofwolves

E | 21k words | mob!au, singer!jask, slow burn, action, epic

Reckless up-and-coming singer Jaskier lands himself in hot water when one of his more political songs goes viral, and nearly gets him killed. Queen Calanthe of Cintra wants his head, but Jaskier is placed under the protection of the Order of the Wolf, the most powerful crime organization in the Continent-- And finds himself falling in love with none other than Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf himself, and leader of the Order. Jaskier’s never been known to make good, or safe, choices.

Opposites Attract by tinyjaskier

T | 28k words | autistic geralt, adhd jaskier, college au, softness

When Geralt is paired with Jaskier by the University accommodation team, he’s sure there must’ve been some kind of mistake. The guy is loud, unorganised and messy. Geralt likes peace, order and cleanliness. He’s going to drive him absolutely insane. But, there’s no more accommodation left. How will they cope?

Soulmate AUs

Nothing to Lose But My Secrets by @handwrittenhello

E | 45k words | enemies to lovers, warlord!geralt and assassin!jaskier

Jaskier is the best assassin in the Northern Kingdoms. On the most important mission of his life - kill the Warlord of the North or die trying - things go terribly wrong, and he's taken prisoner. During his time as a captive in Kaer Morhen, he's forced to confront some uncomfortable truths: witchers aren't what the stories say, his soulmate is most definitely somewhere in the keep and he may have found himself on the wrong side of this war.

Batshit by fungumunguss

E | 80k words (though the main storyline is like 60k?) | modern au, witchers in modern times

Jaskier is attending Comic-Con to promote his show, "Dandelion" a musical thriller. While everything on the show is fiction, Jaskier has a penchant for danger and very quickly finds himself in a bit of trouble and into the arms of one delectable man who he feels drawn to. His heart whispers soulmate, but after his previous disaster with his soul mark, he can't bear to believe it true. The punch in the gut tells him that much.

Other

The Reanimator of Rosemerrow by @cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness

E | 35k words | supernatural & horror elements, modern witchers

In 1819, Jaskier accidentally buys an old abandoned inn in the middle of nowhere, England. Haunted, as if this mountain of dust and debris wasn't already enough of a problem. At least he has a handsome carpenter to help him renovate it.

endless wonder by @kotemorons

M | 50k words | Warehouse 13 AU, a/b/o (but not really), magic

Jaskier knows three things for sure: One, most of the items stored in Kaer Morhen actively want to kill him. Two, all of the people he works with are absolutely gorgeous, terrifying alphas that want nothing to do with his flirty omega self. Three, he wouldn't have it any other way. Oh, did he mention the end of the world?

The Lesser Evil by @dont-tempt-me-frodo

E | 79k words | pirate captain!jask, assassin!geralt, epic, all the feels

1674 and piracy is rife throughout the Caribbean. Plenty of work for a Pirate Hunter such as Geralt. But when he takes a contract to hunt down a pirate captain who is interfering with important trade, a harsh truth arrises that will question his morals and he will be forced to choose between two evils, and risk the one thing he never thought he would find. Love.

💛 i also asked some of my friends for their geraskier fic recs, so here, have some more! (though i didn't sort them this time, sorry)

Life's Blood by @resident-lambert-hoe (T | 3k)

It had taken fifty-years of fighting tooth and nail for Geralt and Jaskier to be allowed to legally marry. After the deed was done, they chose to commemorate it in their own way. tattoo au

Secret by @mordoriscalling (M | 8k)

Based on artistsfuneral's take on the prompt "love confessions: in a language you didn't know they understand".

Taming the Wolves by @saltytransidiot (T | 9k)

When Geralt offers to bring Jaskier to Kaer Morhen that winter, the bard is overjoyed, but anxious as well. He desperately wishes to make a good impression on his lover's family. It turns out easier than he had thought, although Eskel isn't convinced just yet.

Sweet Nothings by @saltytransidiot (M | 10k)

Kaer Morhen is a warmer place than Jaskier had envisaged, and Geralt's family is nicer, and bigger, than Geralt had ever spoken about. Walking into the keep brings up some feelings that Jaskier hadn't realized were bubbling, and he has to delve deeper into his own feeling and who he really is. (God Jaskier)

Sweet Sorrows by @saltytransidiot (M | 19k)

Ciri doesn't find Geralt at the end, she finds Jaskier. She has known him all her life, and she trusts him. He decides to bring her to Kaer Morhen so that she will find Geralt. He dreads the moment it will happen.

Three Steps from the Sky by @bunnyofnegativeeuphoria (M | 30k)

Dear Reader, I present to you a tale of love, the value of faith and communication, and quite a ridiculous amount of horse content.

No King Among Wolves by IndigoDream (M | 32k)

Prince Julian of Kerack has been having nightmares recently. On the day of his twenty-first birthday feast, a week before his official coronation, he tries to ignore those nightmares and focus on the party. However, when a princess of Creyden greets him, accompanied by her witcher bodyguard, Julian starts feeling like he can't escape the dreams anymore. --- Jaskier was a son, a brother, a prince. One sweep at his mind, and he is only a Prince.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) by @a-kind-of-merry-war (E | 50k)

Geralt and Jaskier have been playing this game for nearly a year, now: staging a proposal in an expensive restaurant to see if they can get a meal on the house. But pretending to be engaged to the person you're secretly in love with is starting to take its toll on both of them - especially when they're caught in the act.

To give without knowing by @flowercrown-bard (T | 108k)

Jaskier finds a wooden figure that Geralt carved and threw away in the woods and thinks it's a gift from the fae.

my dear friend (hehe) also compiled a list of geraskier fic recs

so! i hope you're not overwhelmed now, dearest nonnie. i hope you find something that lets you escape your slump. i love you 💛

[friendlyneighborhood-writer]

Good evening, Laurie! I came to ramble about one of my favourite fics in exchange to hear about yours! Ballad of Empires is the one dearest to my heart. It just gives me comfort.

It is a fantasy book (possible duology). The plot is that a usurpator named Danaham had overthrown the ruler of Elyria and the queen had had to flee with her infant and unborn child, leaving her children in secret with relatives after birth. 21 years in the future, Danaham has established a regime of terror and threatens the neighbouring kingdoms with war if they support the rebels. Among the rebels is Griffin, who, along with companions, is trying to restore kingship and overthrow Danaham. To do this, however, they must first find the sword of the rightful king. They are pursued by Skerils and soon find themselves caught in a web of intrigue, betrayal, friendship, death and love.

This is a really rough summary but what else can be said about some out of the thirteen main characters?

We have Griffin who is reluctant to become king of Elyrien. We have Griffin's brother Obil who has become a ghost which only one can find. We have Xiani who is dragonborn, has anger issues and is a morally grey character. She is a member of the Imperial family of Calvaera. She would burn down the realms to keep the ones close to her heart save and is an half elf.

There is Suzy, a healer from one of the twelve tribes of the Roîniscen-Desert. She trusts in friendship and good. There is Cadan who is a commander and in love with Obil. There is Aedion, a warlock who tries to keep the companions alive.

There is Va'Niah, the leader of the resistance who is someone who might surprise the reader with some arcs. There is the dwarf healer Galen who is in the resistance instead of being with his own kin in the dwarf realm.

There is the dwarf prince Cadeyrn who is witty and a friend of an elf. That elf is called Wymond and together with Cadeyrn, Obil and Xiani they are a group not to be crossed. Xiani and him are friends longer than one can count. A fun fact about Wymond is that he is based of Riven from Winx Club (I loved watching this as a child) and now Winx Fate.

As for tropes you may say it is high fantasy, friendship, found family, adventure, love, betrayal, treason, magic and more.

~ love, Leia

I am in so in awe about your worldbuilding! I'm going to take a wild guess and say Griffin and Obil are the queen's long lost children, but I do wonder what happened to the queen. Is she still on the run, or did Danaham get to her eventually? Or maybe it's something else entirely?

I love that Wymond is based on Riven (I used to love Winx Club too! Who was your favourite character?), because I would not at all be able to look at Riven and think "this guy, but make him an elf". I bet he's an interesting character to write!

I'm fresh out of WIPs that I haven't already talked about, so I'll share a story that I never finished instead!

It was a paranormal horror story titled Follow The Signs, about a girl who's three friends go missing in the woods around their sleepy little town Creekwood (fun fact: I wrote this entire thing just because I wanted to make a pun on the name Creekwood by calling it CreePwood lol). The girl, Layla, joins the search party alongside the twin brother of one of her missing friends, and promptly discovers that she can see omens of death that no one else can, and uses it to try and discover where her friends are and if they're alive or not (spoiler alert: only one of them survives lol). I got kind of stuck while trying to figure out what exactly was haunting Creekwood and the entire thing got derailed for 20 pages, so I just called it quits with the intention to start over. Which I never did. Oops.

[sporadiclilbook]

Can I request a Claude x reader x Sylvain fic with an s/o who acts coy but is actually scarily perceptive? Like they notice Sylvain's inner turmoil almost right away and they notice the echoes of Claude's trauma in being ostracized and alienated and their care manifests in extremely subtle ways. How would they react once they find out that they're pining for the same person?

I hope ya like this anon! Hoping that this is how you wanted it too. Golden Deer!reader for plot reasons.

Truth of your mask

(Yan!Sylvain x Perceptive!Reader x Yan!Claude)

You hummed as you walk through the halls of the academy to get to the dining hall. Everything was going normally, nothing much was happening other than getting a new teacher. A former mercenary no less. However you can't seem to read them at all. Not even when you try to talk to the new professor. No smile, no frown or pout. Just.....blank. Usually it was pretty easy considering how most people is full of expression, but your new teacher was like a blank canvas.

It interested you, truly. Perhaps you can continue to observe them and learn a thing or two. You sit down at one of the long dining tables to dig in into your favourite meal. You ate a bit slow considering there was no need to rush. You suddenly heard someone sitting right next to you and immediately knew who it is. "Is there something you need, Sylvain?" You asked as you blow softly on your food to cool it down. "Nothing just checking up on the most attractive person I know."

"Stop it Sylvain, there are lots of other attractive students here too you know....." As you pretended to blush and faced the opposite direction of him a bit. Now you may not be the best with close ranged combat and prefer to strike afar but you admit, you were quite good at intel gathering. Whether it's playing a shy role or feigning ignorance, you think you were quite the expert at it. "No need to be shy now babe, show me that beautiful eyes of yours." Sylvain was a tom fool to you, to think he would easily fall for this act is hilarious to you.

Slowly looking at him, you predicted that he would be wearing that same flirty grin that he always have talking with literally anyone he fancies in the academy. "I-uh....my eyes aren't exactly that extraordinary." You quickly averted back your eyes to your food. Eating it up a bit quicker now. You would have looked at him longer but everytime you do you felt something was off with him. You've seen him flirt around before. His expressions was all the same. It was a typical playboy face. It was different of course when he was alone. There were times when you catch him spending his time in solitary. That's when you notice the pain he has.

It looked like regret and weight of responsibilities. Doesn't help that he is the heir to House Gautier because of his crest. You approached him once, when it was raining, to talk to him a bit. Sure he was annoying at some times but letting him stand there looking so miserable didn't felt right. Of course this doesn't reveal your perceptiveness to him. To most it would look like he had a bad day but to you? You knew he was clinging onto something negative. Something he can't run from.

Ever since that day, he always seemed to make an effort to speak with you. Sometimes Felix or Prince Dimitri will berate him for disturbing a student from another class but there was no real harm, were there. Maybe he just want to make you one of his flings. At least that's what you thought until you see it in his eyes. It was not an usual flirty eyes. It was not lust or some kind of playboyish ones.

It looked like infatuation. Genuine infatuation.

That's when it hits you. It must have been something related to his past. Was he not loved by his family? Is this why he was seeking flings, hoping to finally find the one? Did he decided you were the one simply because you talked to him to ask if he was ok?

Perhaps you were wrong. There are times when your expertise was wrong. Rarely, yes but the chances are not zero. But for now, you will keep him at an arms' length. "Nonsense, your eyes shines brighter than the stars." You smiled sheepishly at him. Not knowing what to respond. He was about to talk more when suddenly a new yet familiar voice join. Your house leader, Claude.

"Well well if it isn't Mr.Smoothtalk, he's not bothering you right (Y/N)? What am I saying of course he is." Claude was like you, observant. But he only looks whats on the surface and not below. But who knows, he was quite eccentric. Maybe he does know you're feigning ignorance. Maybe he doesn't. But then again he would have talk to you about it. He's secretive but sometimes he will overshare his thoughts, ones that has no purposes anyway. You remember the day you enrolled here. Being a citizen of the Alliance automatically sorted you into Golden Deer. He was nice to you. Welcoming you and showing you around. In fact all of the Golden Deer was. Leonie might said something without thinking at times but she would apologise. Raphael was a gentle giant. Hilda was lazy but you reminded her of Marianne and that wanted to make her put in effort.

Claude was always all smiles and schemes. Even so, not even he was immume to you. When you spot him in the crowds of students it was clear as day. He felt isolated. Different. Foreign even. It intrigued you. Why would he felt out of place? Could it be tied to the fact he suddenly show up as the grandson to the leader of the Alliance? As curiosity plagued you, you made an effort to befriend him slowly. Pretending to have problems with class that you known he was good at and even picking up a bow sometimes seeing how his heirloom relic weapon was the bow Failnaught. He learns about you and vice versa. One of his simple mistake was when he invited you for tea.

He served you Almyran tea. He asked what you think of the tea and you just said tea was tea. Just like how people are people. The blend is different but in the end, it's just another beverage. He seemed delighted at your answer and you were delighted at his actions. He was Almyran or half-Almyran. It make sense seeing how Lady Tiana eloped a long time ago. Even after years, people talked about it. You decided to keep it a secret. You didn't really care about his heritage. What only matters to you was bringing back the cat that was killed by curiosity with satisfication.

Oh however. He too, had the same look upon his face. The same as Sylvain's. No one notices it, only you did. From their expression to their subtle acts. How Sylvain's pick up lines sounds like him courting you instead of flirting. Claude subconscious favouritism over you. And it scared you, truly. What were they planning exactly? Does Sylvain needed someone to finally let out his trouble thoughts to? Did Claude wanted to see if he can become vulnerable around you and reveal his secret himself to you? What is their true motives?

"Oh? Hello to you to Mr. House Leader. No need to worry, I'm not bothering them too much." Claude sat to the vacant spot next to you. "Yeah I can see that. But talking to someone who is enjoying a hot meal isn't that nice you know." You continued eating as you ignore their bickering. At least neither of them would talk to you and instead hurled passive-agressive responses to each other. When you finally finished your meal, you stood up. "You're done already (Y/N)? I was hoping I could talk to you a bit but see you at Golden Deer I guess." It was clear as day that Claude specifically said to meet you in class as in a mockery to Sylvain. "U-uh, yeah....see you at class Claude..." With that you returned back to class.

Claude and Sylvain sat together in a tensed silence. But they knew why they were still sitting here. The still noisy atmosphere of the dining hall proved perfect to conceal their conversation. "(Y/N) huh? Not a bad taste but I'm afraid you can't have them." Claude chuckled at Sylvain's statement. "Can't have them? They're in my house. They're Golden Deer not Blue Lions. And you think you have a chance?" Sylvain gritted his teeth at him. "And so? That won't stop me." Claude just shooked his head at him. "Oh Sylvain, maybe if you didn't use all your brains for pick up lines you'd have a great chance. It's unfortunate we liked the same person." Claude smirked at him. He knew the day Sylvain kept pestering you that he was also lovestrucked like he was. But Claude thinks you don't deserve someone like Sylvain. While Sylvain thinks Claude is trying to take advantage over your 'meek' personality. Seeing how schemeful he is.

"Bring it on then, Riegan."

"Don't hold it against me when you lose, Gautier."

[softlystarstruck]

✩ softly reading, july 12 - 18 ✩

trying out something new! i don’t really have a place where i keep track of all the drarry fics i read, other than ao3 bookmarks, and i also want to share the brilliance of the fics i do read with others. so im going to start doing lists of what i read during the week! this might change shape as i go along, and they wont really have commentary from me due to space and because i also want to start doing individual fic recs, but this is for myself and remembering what i’ve read as much as it is to share all the fantastic creators in this fandom 😌 this is also an open invitation to come flail about any if these fics with me, since i have read them all!

✩ - a fave

spotlight rec

✩ what the body wants is coolness by @lastontheboat | T, 13k |

this lovely beach fic manages to touch on deeper topics while maintaining that easiness of summer and the love between draco and harry. this is definitely one i’ll come back to again and again!

longer reads

Just Tell Me When It’s Alright by @bonesliketambourines | E, 23k |

Harry’s been fighting tooth and nail for any bit of normalcy he can get his hands on.

✩ Heart Like Neon by @lqtraintracks | E, 41k |

Bored of being The Chosen One, Harry discovers he rather likes sex and becomes a professional. He’s good at it, and part of why is that he can read people. Enter Draco fucking Malfoy, enigma to everyone, including himself.

Trouble, My Old Friend by @tepre | E, 21k |

Harry goes rogue investigating an illegal potion and ends up at Draco Malfoy's dodgy lab.

‘Til Your World Burns by @iero0, @ladderofyears | E, 25k |

Draco Malfoy is assaulted and watches as his world falls apart. Harry Potter is the quiet, unassuming wizard that finally listens to him. [H/D Wireless 2021]

✩ Everything Old is New Again by rinnwrites | E, 10k |

A year after the war, Draco leaves England with a simple plan: Find a place where no one knows him, get his potions mastery, start a new life. He didn’t count on an obviously exhausted and shockingly studious Harry Potter showing up in his very first class.

✩ In Pursuit of Lost Marbles by @graymatters | T, 22k | (this one made me cry its so good)

Every night after work, Healer Malfoy follows the same routine, beginning with a familiar flight of stairs that leads to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's. With an air of professionalism, he introduces himself to Harry, his husband of seven years. [H/D Wireless]

On Truth and Understanding by @iero0 | E, 21k |

Draco doesn't know how to say certain things. Harry doesn't know how to ask for them.

✩ We Two Alone by borealgrove | T, 16k |

In space, Harry is Just-Harry. He is also an idiot, a handyman, and a glorified battery.

Unkissed Kisses and Songs Never Sung by femme | M, 12k |

I sit silently in the shadows, staring at the tiny, pulsing ball of light that tells me my Harry's still alive. {Untagged infidelity}

short and sweet (under 10k)

The Wedding Date by Rei382, art by @veelawings | T, 5.5k |

In an attempt to get Lucius off his back, Draco decided to convince Potter to come with him to a relative's wedding as his date.

A Text in the Right Direction by sassy_cissa, timothysboxers | M, 9.2k |

Harry Potter—Auror, lover of video games—means to text his online-gamer-friend to gloat. Instead ends up texting with a most intriguing mystery man.

✩ Sex On Legs in Six-Inch Heels by @tessacrowley | E, 9.6k |

Draco Malfoy is a brilliant freelance cursebreaker and the only one who can help the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with a very dangerous case, but more importantly, he's wearing six-inch heels, and Harry cannot handle it, he really just can't.

Good Talk, Potter by @l0vegl0wsinthedark | E, 6.7k |

Potter begins to take me apart, peeling away layer after layer of everything that I am.

The Quiver of a Heartstring by @tackytigerfic | E, 3.8k |

Draco Malfoy has been away for eight months and seventeen days, but now he's back, and Harry has never stopped wanting him. It's a shame Draco doesn't want Harry back.

Carpe Diem by leontina | T, 9.7k |

Every day Draco goes down to the Great Lake and disappears from the Marauder's Map, and Harry intends to find out why.

✩ Trouble by @l0vegl0wsinthedark | E, 7k |

Now Draco’s cock is stirring, and he can’t breathe because all he can think of is screaming Harry’s name while Harry pins him down.

✩ Love, Interrupted by manixzen | E, 9.6k | (this one made me wheeze laugh)

It’s hard enough to keep the romance alive when you’re a parent of three rambunctious kids, but Harry and Draco can’t even manage a quickie these days.

✩ A Blanket Made of Stars by @nv-md | M, 1.4k |

Draco and Harry fall together during a cattle drive.

pocket-sized (under 1k)

✩ language of love by @crazybutgood | T, 864 |

“Sometimes, I wish you could understand the things I want to say to you, about you, in Hindi or Urdu.”

blue hour by @isamijoo | G, ~200 |

“Blue Hour” refers to the darker stages of morning and evening twilight, when the Sun is quite far below the horizon, coloring the sky deep blue.

kiss my utilitarian solution by @americanmoths | T, ? |

Rarely do the problems he complains to Hermione about have such sexy solutions.

cozy art by @babooshkart w/ ficlet by @the-starryknight | G |

"Five more minutes," Harry murmured into Draco's hair, drifting fingers through the silky strands.

[watery-melon-baller]

Danny Phantom Fic Recs

Absolutely nobody asked for this, but I feel like doing this so here are some, as the title says, Danny Phantom fic recs! There’s not really any cohesion or theme to this, these are just fics I find good in general. They’re not ones I’ve seen around on a ton of rec lists, so maybe this can help people find something new to read.

Tucker Foley and the Long Arc of the Paranormal Universe by helpivefallenandicantgetup

I cannot recommend this fic enough. The quality of the writing is extremely high. It may start off a bit slow, but once you get into it it really sucks you in. It’s a longer one, currently sitting just above 90,000 words, and still a work in progress but actively updating. The fic is a paranormal mystery AU centering around Tucker, as the title implies, with some good focus put on Sam as well. Danny is the new kid in town, and, not to spoil too much, it crafts an interesting mystery around a series of related murders. This fic provides a remarkably fresh take on the Danny Phantom characters and setting. I in particular love how the interpersonal relationships between characters come so naturally. The take on the characters really stands out to me, giving a lot of depth to them in a way that makes them feel like full people. The plot is engaging, with each development adding to the intrigue. Seriously, probably the best piece of fanfiction I’ve read, ever.

Face to Face by DP_Marvel94

This one has a special place in my heart. It’s one of the first long pieces of fanfiction I read (currently sitting around 150,000 words), and it’s a good one. It’s a very character driven story, centering around what happens when Danny, not long after the accident, tries to get rid of his powers but instead splits himself in two. Now I will say I’m a big sucker for split Danny stories, but even so this is a very interesting take on the concept. As I said, it’s highly character driven, with an engaging arc of Danny learning to accept himself. Another thing that stands out about it is the writing of Jack and Maddie, with some excellent takes on a reveal and reveal aftermath. Big queer allegory vibes, which sure hits for me. This fic is still in progress and continues to update.

Losing Teeth by halfpastdead

This one’s much shorter, a oneshot of around 2000 words. Still, it’s one I find myself coming back to again and again. It’s about Danny becoming more ghostly after a few days stuck in Phantom form. Highkey angst with the Fenton parents, which I am here for. The author portrays the consequences of a post reveal Danny well, how Danny struggles from the trauma of them hunting him, how they can’t just instantly let go of their prejudices once they know the truth. The writing and prose is well done, with good characterization as well.

Doppelgänger by CrzyFun

Boy oh boy do I love this one. It’s halfa trio AND qpr trio, two concepts I love immensely. The writing is well done, and it’s really interesting to see how things have been changed. It’s very much an AU, following through canon but showing how things change with all the tweaks made and, of course, the halfa trio thing. It works well, as do the little tweaks to character. Especially standing out is the portrayal of Valerie; the author manages to give her a lot of nuance and development, giving her a realistic relationship with Danny and the trio as Doppelgänger. And the queerness, I love the queerness so much. This fic currently sits around 40,000 words, so pretty middling in length. It went on a hiatus for a while, but now it’s back to regular updates and seems set to be completed soon.

Eidolon Interloper by HeroineofTime

Everything HeroineofTime writes is so good. Their two other DP fics, Can I Not Grasp Them with a Tighter Clasp? (Around 20,000 word completed multichapter, psychological horror centering around Danny’s protection obsession going too far) and Speak of the Banshee (A ghost speak humor oneshot with Danny and Valerie, at about 7000 words) were both excellent and I enjoyed them immensely. You should read them both. Eidolon Interloper just stands out for its originality and length. It is a crossover with The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, but as someone who has never played Twilight Princess and has very limited knowledge on it, I had no issues getting into it. It follows Danny after he falls through a portal into the world of Twilight Princess and proceeds to have a terrible time. I really enjoyed the handling of Danny’s character and how his secret-keeping goes. Currently around 50,000 words, it is ongoing. I binged it.

Analog by Workparty

I don’t know, I just enjoyed this one. It’s kind of an anthology of oneshots exploring Danny-clone related situations, scenarios, and AUs. It’s well written and I like how the author explores different ideas and themes. I actually don’t have a lot to say about this one, it’s just good. This one is actually completed, sitting around 20,000 words over 7 chapters.

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by LichrallyJustVibin

I love full ghost Danny aus so much, and this is pretty much the perfect take on a full ghost Danny au. And that pretty much sums up the plot: Danny Dies. Now he has to deal with the aftermath of that. The author puts so much character into the narration; they absolutely nail everyone’s voice. They also manage to strike such an expert balance between angst and fluff, which really makes the fic. It might be abandoned (it hasn’t updated since January), but I’m unsure as of now. Still, the 14,000 words we do have are completely worth checking out. Seriously, this fic is so good.

That’s what I have for now! If any of these interest you, please go check them out, they’re all really good. -Aru