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wandering-pirate · 3 days ago

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Mouthwashing Characters Headcanons

The Crew's Love Language ft. You

Captain Curly

Words of Affirmation

The captain is well-known for having his vocabulary overflowing with encouraging and uplifting words, a stellar reputation for giving good pep talks

Deep inside, he always loved hearing words of praise from the people he cared about the most. He always valued the affirmations from them, a foolproof method to make him smile and feel loved

For him, words are like fire, and people can either use them to warm someone up or burn a whole damn city

He never raises his voice at you when it comes to negative emotions, never when he's angry, frustrated, or panicked

He, however, is so enthusiastic when congratulating you or when he's excited about the topic you're both talking about

Your heart (and belly) can't help but feel very warm with the way he uses his words with his deep tone. If a kid asked you how a space superhero would sound, you'd bring Curly forward

With his effort to stay optimistic, you always make sure to tell him an encouraging word or sweet strands of praise whenever you see him and after he does something

"Captain, remember to stay hydrated, you're doing great, sir."

"You always know how to put the crew at ease, Cap. Appreciate it"

"You're so reliable, gosh, thank you!"

Every praise and affirmation you throw his way makes him blush and stutter, a polar opposite to his status

You make it a duty to compliment him sincerely. The hunk of a man ends up having a red face every time he receives your sweet words to the point that the crew teases him for it

"Cap, what's red and stutters?"

"I swear, Jimm--"

"Oh, oh! I know!"

"Come on, Daisuke, not you to--"

"You, after talkin' to Y/N."

The captain, co-pilot, and intern stared at Swansea’s retreating back after he butted into a conversation that the mechanic would find ridiculous even being a part of

You also made sure to never—I MEAN NEVER—use words against him, especially with secrets or information that he exclusively told you about (probably the reason why you and Jimmy ended the Captain's birthday party with knives at each other's throats)

Mechanic Swansea

Acts of Service

The old man was raised in a household where serving your family is the ultimate display of love

His father scoffed after reaching the last part of young Swansea's greeting in the Christmas card he gave him:

"I love you? Boy, you can't even make a decent cut on that firewood from a while ago"

"I love you's" are just empty words for him. When you really want to reach into his head and hammer some sense of what you feel about him, you gotta show it

However, unlike his father, he doesn't need a grand display of actions to know and notice. He actually prefers the little things you do:

Remembering his coffee preference and making it every morning

Giving him a massage in the area his hands seem to knead frequently

Putting his socks on before work

Giving him a pedicure (after leveraging that he'd eat you in bed for the whole night)

He also holds himself up to the same standard, always doing chores around the house whenever you're busy:

No stocks of pads and tampons? He'll make sure he gets the right brand you always get

Your favorite furniture that you inherited needs varnishin'? He's on it.

Your daughter's birthday is coming up, but you're too ill to make the cake? He ain't a baker, but he'd be damned if he won't at least try

"Daddd, is this... is this meat... on my birthday cake?"

"S'called 'cake of love' for a reason, darlin'. You don't question its ingredients. It's made of love"

What makes your heart flutter is not having to tell him all the things that need to be done. He knows what's lacking and what you need

When there are times you have to vocalize your concerns, he'll simply nod, and after a moment, it's done

Co-pilot Jimmy

Physical Touch

*Sighs* Need I say more?

Jimmy is the type who’s not comfortable with PDA, but he can't seem to keep his hands off of you when he feels threatened, (especially when Curly is having a casual conversation with you)

You can't blame the guy; he doesn't even understand how you fell for him somehow, but he's not complaining, and he most definitely will not let you go (possessive boi is a touchy boi)

His touches are not always sensual, and it actually surprises you how gentle he is when holding you

Whenever you're busy, he'd pass by to squeeze your waist or brush a touch on your lower back

When you're both around each other but are doing different tasks, he'd make sure to have a part of you touching him:

A hand on the thigh

A leg over your thighs

His head on your chest or shoulder or thighs (the boy's got magnets on your thighs, what can I say?)

And his personal favorite: having you sit between his legs with your back pressed against his chest.

One time, a frustrated Curly called you. It's been a week since Jimmy left for his job-training, and you weren't aware that someone was also getting through a torturous week like you and Jimmy

The captain was at the other end of his friend's damp mood

"I don't know what you do to him, Y/N. He's a completely different person when he's with you"

"Hmm, how bout massaging his hand, cap. It improves his mood, and it always works"

"..."

"Hello? Curly?"

"...Y/N, are you trying to get me killed? It works because you're the one doing it!"

Intern Daisuke

Quality Time and Giving Gifts

The boy loves spending time with you. He doesn't need to plan for what to do during those times you'd be together because he always finds ways to make you enjoy it so much that you have to keep a wristwatch to check how much time has passed

He's known to be a yapper but not the type of yapper that tires you

The man has a lot of questions for you to the point that you're concerned that he knows more information about yourself than you

Pointing out things he notices you do, like looking slightly at the right when you're lying or knowing how many moles are in your face and neck

It doesn't creep you out though, you picked up that he's very observant when he's interested and that flatters you that he take mental notes of these small things just by being around him

Whenever he knows that you won't be seeing him for a while, he makes sure that you know what he'll be doing and where he'll go

Basically the main reason when the crew - especially Swansea - would look for him, they'll go straight to you

"Hey kid, where's that boy again?"

"Toilet, Swansea. He said it's a raging diarr--"

"Yeah yeah, toilet's fine. geez."

Daisuke also buys you trinkets he finds that remind him of you—from crocheted baby mushrooms to obscure plastic eyeball keychains

"I understood the frog keychain last week, but... a turd plushie?"

"Cause I feel shitty when we're apart"

"Valid"

His gifts are very specific and you even cried one time in a store trying to outgift him, spoiler, you can't. He never makes you feel bad about it, he always claimed that he takes pride at being the Leslie Knope of the real world (iykyk)

Nurse Anya

Quality Time

She strongly believes that spending time with someone is the core of a relationship

She definitely isn’t the person to be clingy - nope, she's a queen with self-worth. If you don't want to spend time with her, don't expect her to chase you

The more you spend time with her, though, the more she opens up. For her, trust is something earned over time, and you made the effort to build that trust brick by brick

After falling for her harder, your trips to the medbay became more frequent with "accidental injuries"

"Hey, miss Anya."

"Hey y/n, kindly be careful. Don’t want you to have your 4th visit this week."

"Heh, what can I say? I hate breaking the streak. Gotta keep you on your toes."

"Y/N, it’s still Wednesday."

"Good time to give you your once-a-week training, right?"

Once she’s comfortable with you, her affection shows in the little things:

Putting your vitamins and supplements on accessible places because she knows you forget taking them

Giving you random psychology tests after finding our that you loved them

Or being comfortable enough to nap on your shoulders (you earned that trust on the hundred and tenth day)

You don't even have to talk while being together; as long as both of you are around each other, her shoulders relax, and her face is at peace

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gay-dorito-dust · 16 hours ago

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Could we please have a batboys (and Bruce) x reader who can break the 4th wall?

This was rubbish.

Dick

Would rest his head on your shoulder and ask. ‘Who are you talking to sweetheart?’

He genuinely wants to know considering the first thing he heard was you talking back his beautiful back and perfect thighs, only to find that you were saying all this to no one in particular.

‘Oh just the lovely people reading this.’ You tell him happily and Dick would only see the walls of your shared room.

‘And what are they saying?’ Dick would then say.

‘Oh I can’t hear them, nor can I really see them exactly but I just have this feeling that we are being watched -or read in this case- by many people, I can sense them and i want them to feel included in my love life with the most beautiful man Gotham has to offer.’ You tell him as you kiss him on the cheek, making him smile.

‘Well as long as they know that I am taken by you, then we’ll be okay.’ Dick replied as he kissed your forehead sweetly. Dick at first though you were just the type to talk to yourself like some people, but seeing as how it seemed as though you were more or less addressing someone rather then just talking to yourself, Dick then assumed that you might have an ability that allows you to look past this reality and into another one entirely that might be looking into this one.

It was a scary thought to think that he was being watched ,or read as you put it, by another reality but it was intriguing nonetheless the less that there was a possibility of multiple dimensions. So he could only imagine what you were able to experience if you were able to see beyond this reality to address people who probably saw him in a different form entirely.

If anything he’s extremely curious as to how your ability worked exactly as it was something that was clearly unheard of. Somedays you would address the audience as per usual but other times you didn’t address them at all, almost as though you knew where and when they’ll pay attention to you both: all so that you could entertain them for as long as possible without it coming across as excessive or too long winded.

He would try to act like he could see them too as to not have you feeling so alone, but would get flustered when you tell him that he was looking the wrong way.

He’ll leave the fourth wall breaking to you instead and will be nosy and ask all sorts of questions about your ability, all before saying that your powers was the most coolest he’s come across, but you knew he was only saying that because you were his beloved partner but that didn’t make what he said any less true.

Jason

Would raise a brow at first but would keep this tendency to himself out of a need to protect you from those who’d gladly send you away for such tendency.

Jason isn’t phased by much but you talking to a wall as though someone was there brought a weird feeling to his chest.

‘His thighs? Perfect. His stomach and autopsy scars? Delicious. Arms, hands and back? Gorgeous but all of you at home are already aware of that and could only imagine how plush his tits are-‘

‘Who are you talking to chipmunk?’ He’d ask, cutting you off as he expected you to be on the phone to someone, so imagine to his surprise when he saw your phone on charge and you were in fact talking to thin air.

‘Just the people thirsting after you.’ You’d reply as though it was common sense.

‘Thirsting?’ Jason tried the word, not liking how it sounded coming from his mouth. ‘What’s that?’

‘Just think of it as another word for desire, but they can’t have you because in their reality you’re a fictional character who gets the short end of the stick constantly by people who don’t know what to do with you in general.’ You shrugged as you looked over at him with a smile. ‘Also you get stereotyped as someone you’re not by people who obviously lack a capacity for reading given how short their attention span is.’ The last part was muttered under your breath before bringing the conversation back to him.

‘Enough about me how about you honey?’

It wasn’t the first time you’ve done this and Jason knew it wouldn’t be the last either as he would find you passionately ranting to your invisible audience about something, and while it was cute to watch you be this passionate, he also became concerned for you in case you were going through something that you didn’t want to burden him with out of a need to protect yourself.

‘You can tell me if you’re going through something you know that right?’ He’d tell you one night as he holds your face in his hands.

‘Of course I do jaybird,’ you whispered to him before watching him as he fell asleep, only to move your head elsewhere to speak to the wall. ‘Isn’t he the cutest? Truly a man unlike any other, a dying breed if you will, but I can assure you dear readers that you too will find your Jason Todd because that’s what you all deserve in life is to be loved deeply by an non-judgmental and caring man.’ You fished before joining him in your sleep.

Tim

He thinks your maladaptive daydreaming.

What else was he meant to take away from you talking to seemingly no one so passionately as you did in that moment.

He didn’t want to say that you were insane but it wasn’t everyday where a sane person would idly make conversation with thin air or a brick wall as casually as you did.

That or you were extremely lacking in sleep and were now seeing things, if that was the case then he would be able to relate to you as he had those types of days also, more often then others that’s for sure but from what Tim could tell was far from the truth as you looked bright and too well rested for that to be the answer.

And honestly? He doesn’t want to know who exactly you were talking to as not to frighting himself shitless and would act as though you talking to a crowd of no one within your shared room was completely normal in Gotham.

God forbid you start talking to this unseen audience during the night, Tim will think he’s in some sort of horror movie that he was forced to watch with the rest of his family on Halloween. Seriously who knew fourth wall breaking could come across as though you were demonically possessed?

He wants to ask who you’re talking to, he really does but if he was running low on fumes that day, really tired and wanting nothing more then sleep he would forgo all logic and just agree with what you were saying to thin air.

‘I wish I could tell you just how mean Tim can be when he’s sleep deprived, you think you know sarcasm? Wait until Tim is on about two hours of sleep and then you’ll know true sarcasm.’ You’d say.

‘Says the one who’s talking to the wall as though it had ears to listen or a mouth to respond.’ He’d replied.

‘See what Im on about? Absolutely mean when he’s sleep deprived.’ He would hear you whisper aloud but he was on the verge of falling asleep against the table to find out the true reason to your uncanny ability to break the fourth wall.

Damian

Genuinely thought something was off with how often you would look off into the distance, as though you were addressing someone he couldn’t see, like a hidden camera that lead to an unseen audience.

‘Isn’t he the cutest when he’s acting all tough,’ he’d her you say, ‘it’s like if you give a rabid chihuahua a knife but ten times worse because he can actually back up his deeply descriptive threats.’ Damian’s brow would raise at this as he watched you silently as his mind wondered who you could possibly be entertaining with such things.

Gotham has an ability to make the most strong minded person break and needles to say Damian would keep silent watch over you while you had these kinds of episodes, even when you would proudly praise his artistic skills but never to him directly, but more so to seemingly thin air with a beaming smile.

‘He’s got a future as many things and in all honestly I’m envious of how multitalented my Dami is, but at least I get to be his hype man and cheer for him no matter what, which is something I bet half of you which you could have but here I am loving your fantasy!’ You’d finish with a cackle and it left Damian smiling to himself at your pride towards him, but also still very curious as to who it was you were talking to.

‘Who are you talking to.’ He would ask you one day.

‘The audience reading this fic.’ You’d reply as though it was the most casual thing to bring up in conversation.

Damian’s brows furrowed. ‘Audience? What audience.’ He tried looking in the same direction as you, only to see nothing but his bed.

‘Oh I don’t expect you to see them but they are there,’ you tried to reassure Damian but it only came off as ominous and albeit cryptic, ‘they are always there, watching.’ You’d add and needles to say your words only made Damian go into a defensive posture at the aspect of being spectated by beings only you could seemingly engage with.

Well done you’ve made Damian somewhat paranoid as to what this audience you speak to wanted, what they wanted with you to have you keep engaging in conversation with them and what they could be planning.

‘Always watching?’ Damian asked.

‘Yep,’ you replied, ‘but not when we’re in the bathroom, that’s just really weird but other then that we are merely entertainment for them to consume on days of boredom and to grow a parasocial relationship with us to their leisure.’ You added and when you looked over at Damian, his jade eyes were wide and you winced internally, wishing you hadn’t said anything at all because now you’d knew Damian would start reaching for his sword out of instinct now.

Try and tell him it’s a joke as much as you like but Damian would now take your ability to break the fourth wall as a sign that someone was out there, watching all of you, an invisible enemy that he couldn’t kill and it pissed him off. He’ll break you free of the curse…sooner or later.

Bruce

‘That man is finer than a mother fucker and he knows it. And I know damn well all you thirsty bitches are making edits of my sexy Bruce to the song of older by Isabel LaRosa. I just know it you absolute sluts, but I can’t blame you because I would too.’ Bruce had just finished showering and the first thing he sees is you seemingly talking to a wall as though you were talking to a group of people in a whole different plan of existence.

He’s seen a lot of things in his time as Batman but someone talking to people who aren’t there? He’d assume you’re either clairvoyant or have another ability that can allow you to talk to an audience of people whom he can’t see, for whatever it was wouldn’t change Bruce’s opinion on you, powers or not.

‘My darling.’ He’d greet you as he holds you from behind. ‘May I ask why and or who you were speaking so passionately about me to?’ He adds.

‘The people reading this fanfic.’ You’d tell him as though it was a completely normal thing to admit as it was something you had been doing for as long as you could remember. Your parents thought you were talking to an invisible friend like other kids your age, but it grew concerning when you were still talking to no one in particular well into your late teens.

Bruce just raised a brow but would assume that you had some ability that you weren’t comfortable to admit to him, and he didn’t want you to feel pressured to talk to him about such a thing, especially not if you had admitted to someone in the past before and their reactions were negative.

He would just try and look deeper into this sort of thing in hopes of finding any pre-existing information about anyone showing similar signs as you and reading it deeply and intensively so that he could be well informed to know what you were going through. Bruce loves to be educated on things that he didn’t understand with the hopes of understanding it on a deeper level, so if he did managed to find something that perfectly describes what you were doing, then he’ll be reading it until he could recite it in his sleep.

He didn’t want you to feel as though you should be ashamed of your unique ability and would often take notes and things that he’d noticed you do as you addressed the invisible audiences in vivid detail. Your ability to see into another reality or anything similar to talk to people was a powerful thing to have and Bruce was fascinated by such a unique power, a power that could prove that alternate realities exist.

But Bruce would find himself intrigued with how you talked to this invisible audiences, almost as though you were greeting an old friend, whether or not this was your way to cope with the fact that you could sense an audience watching your every move and leave no privacy to be had for yourself. It was unfortunately something Bruce wasn’t quite sure but until your ability was causing you harm he would contour to watch and observe while acting as though he was unaware/ unfazed of your tendency to talking to seemingly no one.

Basically reader: you should know this too

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bisexualbaker · 3 days ago

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Oh shit yeah I got this!

Okay, so our main characters, let's call them Steve and Monica, because I need names and don't want to think too hard. Anyway, they grew up together, were platonic ride-or-die for each other in high school, but drifted apart when they went to colleges in different states where they eventually settled down. Monica ended up in a very restrictive state and Steve ended up in a much more pro-choice state. They occasionally message each other on the internet, but nothing really meaningful, usually no more than a Hi on their birthdays or relevant holidays (etc).

Then one day Steve gets a call from Monica. Her recent ex-boyfriend—well, she'd really been thinking of breaking up with him for a couple of months before that, but the final straw was three months ago when she found him messing with her birth control. She immediately kicked him to the curb and went about disentangling their lives, went and got Plan B or equivalent ASAP, just in case.

Well, turns out it was too late: She was already pregnant, and didn't get real confirmation until very recently. And, well, surely Steve knows how things are in the state where she lives.

Steve does know how things are in the state where Monica lives. He also knows that Monica has never wanted to have children, since they talked about it some in high school. There could be various reasons here, from bad experiences with her own parents, to financial reasons, to health reasons, but he never saw fit to argue with any of them. Her choice, right? Meanwhile, Steve himself isn't really sure on the kids thing, but he's leaning towards "no thanks", because he is sure that anyone making the choice to bring kids into the world had better be 100% on board, and he's not, so that means no. (Also, if he feels the need to spend any time with kids, he's got local friends and/or family with little ones he can spoil.)

Anyway! Steve tells Monica that it sounds like she's been having a rough time, maybe he could come pick her up and she could spend a week or two at his place, get resettled after everything that went down with That Jerk (very clearly not saying what else they could, or rather will, be doing while Monica is visiting). Deeply relieved, Monica takes him up on his offer enthusiastically. Steve calls his job, takes a few weeks off of work, and drives over to pick up Monica.

They've got an appointment in Steve's state, but it's still some days away, so they take a leisurely trip back to Steve's. All the while they're reconnecting, and Steve is noticing that all of the things he liked about Monica as a friend in high school are still there, and are also things he'd really like in a life partner. Her sense of humor, her willingness to compromise, her determination to find a way to make things work, her money sense... She's also much more confident in herself than she used to be, which Steve finds really attractive.

Or at least, she's more confident in herself whenever pregnancy shit isn't getting to her. Steve already knew that pregnancy and kids aren't something Monica ever wanted, but if he ever needed more convincing, he's getting it both on this road trip and when they get back to his condo. Still, he does everything he can to try and keep Monica's spirits up, to distract her and/or make sure she's prepared for her abortion and everything it will involve. (All the while, he's also learning what he can to make sure he can help her through the aftermath. Apparently post-partum isn't necessarily just for giving birth; all those hormones and body changes can also hammer down after any other pregnancy ending circumstances!)

Steve drives her to the clinic, waits with her when she asks him to, waits for her during, and does everything he can to make her as comfortable as possible as she recovers. One thing after another is just more yes, yes, yes, this is what he wants in his life, Monica is who he wants in his life.

He's a bit stuck on how or if to confess, though; this was a deeply shitty situation for Monica, and it's also something he could hypothetically hold over her legally after everything, which he would never do, but he knows might make things more difficult for both of them. Then, a day or two before he's set to start driving Monica home, he checks in on Monica packing—only to find her crying.

Steve immediately asks Monica what's wrong, if he can help with anything, and Monica just starts crying harder. She ends up confessing her own feelings, how she started to fall for Steve when he didn't judge her for her shitty ex-boyfriend and how she wanted to terminate the pregnancy (which more than a few of her local friends had), and then everything else he did to make her feel happy and secure while helping her out just really sealed the deal! She got half way through packing before she realized that she didn't actually want to leave him, but she also didn't want to put pressure on him after he'd done so much for her already.

Steve immediately hugs her and confesses back, telling her he doesn't want her to leave either but didn't want to put pressure on her, and also maybe this was a little soon after all of the everything going on. But he would love to go out to dinner with her properly, before he takes her back home, and again when they get there, and then maybe they could see how things go from there? They can try doing long-distance for a month or two, and if they're both still certain, they can get together more formally and figure out where to live.

Fast-forward ten years, Monica and Jake are happily married, with three dogs and a tortoise. They still don't want kids.

The end.

Edit: Okay, this is not "and the person who got them pregnant", but it mostly still works!

there's an extremely niche plot in romance fiction wherein our invariably heterosexual leads fall in love after a night of passion leads to an unplanned pregnancy and they're now bound together by an impending child. I cast no judgment on anyone who enjoys this, but since I'm an evil gay and this is my personal nightmare scenario I want to see a zany romance novel premised on the opposite resolution: a couple falls in love while on a whirlwind roadtrip to obtain a legal abortion

#storytelling #abortion #pro-choice #m/f #short story #kinda #story outline

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 15 hours ago

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Cannibals [Chapter 7: Lightning and Rust]

A/N: Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥳❤️💙🦇

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), babies and parenthood, blood and violence, character deaths, I really cannot summarize this chapter you just gotta experience it, I'll pray for you 🙏

Word count: 6.8k

💙 All my writing can be found HERE! ❤️

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

🦇 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🦇

You’re curled up in bed with a velvet pouch of hot stones that have gone cold, bloody rags bunched between your thighs, trying desperately to sleep, and outside a storm is brewing over Blackwater Bay and bringing with it dark skies and strikes of lightning that stalk ever-closer. Through the open window, the air tasting like late-summer rain, you can hear Helaena and the maids corralling the children back into the Red Keep. They are laughing because nobody is dead yet, not even the ailing and absent King Viserys, not even doomed little Luke Strong.

Aemond lets himself into your chambers and stands over your bed, staring down at you with some combination of annoyance and concern. You have failed him. You were not where he wanted you to be. “Why weren’t you at the beach?” Playing with your niece and nephews, collecting your seashells.

“Because women are cursed.”

Aemond smiles, perhaps a bit relieved; he has his answer. “And you more than any of them, because you’re so wicked.”

“Maester Orwyle says I can’t have more milk of the poppy for two hours.”

“Then we must listen to him. It is a powerful remedy, and we cannot endanger you.” He takes off his boots and climbs into bed, lying behind you, one hand following the curve of your waist to settle on your lower belly. “I can relax the muscles. It might ease your suffering.”

Right now? “Oh no, no, you don’t want to do that,” you warn him. “It’s very messy.”

“You think I’m afraid of your blood?” Aemond says, amused. “Everything we’re built of is the same.” He lifts the hem of your silk nightgown and reaches underneath the nest of rags, sliding there in the coppery wetness as you inhale sharply, startled but not unwilling. When Aemond removes his hand, the carnage he is stained with is bright crimson but dotted with clots. Then he licks the blood from his fingers and paints his tongue red. You can’t keep the shock from your face. Aemond grins, wets his hand again, draws a heart on your left cheek just beneath your eye. You laugh and pretend to try to shove him away.

“You’re deranged, you’re a monster—”

“Let me help you,” Aemond whispers, nuzzling blood from his lips into your silver hair. “Let me take your pain away like you quiet mine.”

And you surrender to him like you always do—worn down, overpowered, intoxicated, bewitched, seduced, perhaps all at once—and as Aemond’s hand works and the gory metallic ether of blood fills both of your lungs, the cramps dissolve into nothingness and then build to desire, and you’re opening your thighs for him and the rags are whisked away, unnecessary, forgotten, and now there is blood on the bedsheets and your fingers are twisting into the pillows strewn around you, and it doesn’t feel shameful at all anymore, because what is blood if not made from the same minerals as coins and blades and ocean and ash, and what is lust if not a fire that burns the constraints of the world away?

You kiss him as you come, moaning into his bloodstained mouth, biting his lower lip, and if the careless pressure of your teeth makes him bleed then that’s just more iron and copper and steel to add to the molten sea you are marooned in, more magma, more rust. “Enough,” you gasp when the last of the waves have passed and you are emptied and too sensitive, and Aemond knows to listen. Then you reach for Aemond’s trousers, where you can see he is hard. You are abruptly and ruinously exhausted—you struggle to keep your eyes open—but it feels wrong to not take care of him in return.

It shouldn’t take long, he’s already flushed, he’s already dripping sweat—

“No need,” Aemond says, gently stopping your hands. And as you burrow into the pillows and your eyes dip closed, your skin and hair still splattered with red, he slips away silently so you can sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t want to leave you,” Jace says, knowing that he has to anyway. “Either of you.”

You are nursing the baby in a chair by the fireplace; you needed a change of scenery from the bed. The upholstery is pale blue velvet. The blanket the baby is swathed in is embroidered with pine trees and foxes, and far beyond your skill; Lady Caro made it. She is nearly as gifted with a needle as Helaena. On the walls of the bedchamber you share with your husband are mosaics you’ve pieced together over the past nine months here at the modest castle of Heart’s Home in a cold, remote corner of the Vale. The fractured faces look in on you like curious gazes through clear windows: Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, Jaehaera, Maelor, Mother, Criston. You aren’t any closer to them now, but you feel like you are. The world seems softer, warmer, smaller.

You smile as you ghost a fingerprint over the baby’s faint dark eyebrows. He’s half-asleep as he suckles, hushed and content and entirely helpless. He has Jace’s coloring, but something about the shape of his eyes reminds you of Aegon. “We’ll be here waiting when you get back.”

“I think he looks a lot like Luke,” Jace says, admiring the baby. He’s standing with one arm draped over the back of your chair and the flickering firelight from the hearth on his face, turning his skin from snow to sunstone. “And Joffrey. His face is rounder than mine.”

“Have you been to the Eyrie to see them since the war began?” Joffrey, Rhaena, Rhaenyra’s young white-haired sons Aegon and Viserys.

Jace shakes his head. “I never wanted to be away from you for longer than necessary. I didn’t want to risk being spotted and revealing where they’ve been hidden. And I didn’t know what to say.” About us, about our marriage, about our baby.

“You should visit them, Jace. I would visit Helaena and her children if I could.” You leave out the others intentionally; Helaena is your only sibling that Jace considers blameless. You miss Aegon and Daeron just as much, but in the solitude of your own heart—in the stillness, in the silence—you aren’t sure if you want to see Aemond again. You don’t know if he will be soft with you, or vengeful or cold, or if he has filled the void of your absence with a lover, something that you cannot think about without your stomach lurching and your skull aching, and so you put him out of your mind as much as you can and stay here with the baby instead.

Jace rests a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, then strokes your cheek. He says, meaning the baby: “We’ll have to get him his own egg.”

“I hope he won’t inherit my affliction,” you murmur somberly. “I hope he’ll have a dragon someday.” Without them, we are powerless. Without them, we aren’t real Targaryens.

“Maybe there’s something you need to do first.”

You look up at Jace, not understanding.

“I’ve spent a lot of time considering what inspires a dragon to bond to someone,” he says. And you think, feeling a fleeting stab of betrayal before you stitch the wound closed with invisible thread: Because you’ve been helping the Blacks search for riders. “It seems that each creature has their own preferences. Meleys favored women who were spirited and highly intelligent. Dreamfyre has chosen two riders, both gentle, shy, and fond of animals. Seasmoke bonded to two sons of Corlys Velaryon with similar temperaments, agreeable and charismatic, Quicksilver to a father and son who were both considered weak and died young. Caraxes seems to have an affinity for warriors.” It does not escape you that Jace neglects to mention Vhagar, as if through his silence he can make the beast and her rider vanish. “And Vermithor…” Jace offers you a small, sympathetic smile, remembering that you once wanted him. “The Bronze Fury bonds to riders who are imposing in body and ambitious in spirit. And I suspect he only likes men.”

“So it was always hopeless,” you say gloomily. You recall the miniature Vermithor that Aegon once carved for you out of oak wood. You hope that Aegon is still alive somewhere, scarred but lying in wait, always underestimated, always so much deeper than he seems, an ocean that Mother and Father mistook for a puddle, messy and marginal and inconvenient.

“I believe dragons often gravitate towards riders who are mirrors of themselves. Even Vermax, he is…” Jace considers this. “He’s proud, and he’s clever, but he’s not as formidable as he imagines himself to be.”

“Like you,” you say before you can stop to consider whether Jace will be offended by it, and he gives you an amused smirk. The baby has stopped nursing and fallen asleep; you fix the bodice of your gown and cradle him against you. There are maids to take him when you’re tired, and Jace loves holding him, and Lady Caro steals him away often, but right now you don’t want your freedom. You don’t want your mind to be untethered and to wander to all the places you’re not supposed to be.

Jace continues: “What I mean is, perhaps there is some quality you must cultivate within yourself before the beast you are meant to have judges you worthy.”

“Hardly any unclaimed dragons are left now.” Then you tease: “Do you suggest I become quiet and timid so Grey Ghost will like me?”

Jace laughs. “No, I fear that’s a lost cause, princess. You could never be timid.”

You are intrigued. “Then what am I?”

“I think you’re hungry,” Jace decides. “I think you always want more.”

“I never wanted that many things.” Aemond. My family to be safe. And I wanted Vermithor.

“Every line that is drawn, every place you’re told not to go or act you’re not supposed to do, you insist upon overreaching.”

Is that why Aemond and I were so drawn to each other? you think doubtfully. Because it was forbidden? Because it horrified people who climbed high enough to live alongside Targaryens but could never understand them?

“I think Meleys would have been a good match for you,” Jace says after a while. “If she hadn’t already been claimed by Grandmother.”

“And now the Red Queen is dead.” Like Arrax, and Moondancer, and Seasmoke, and probably Sunfyre too. How many dragons will be left when this is over? How many Targaryens? You clutch the baby closer to you; he stirs in his sleep, tiny fingers grasping at nothing. “What sort of rider does Silverwing favor? What could this illiterate drunk Ulf the White possibly have in common with Good Queen Alysanne?”

Jace snickers. “That’s a good question. I’ve been ruminating on it. My theory is that since Silverwing was never ridden into battle, and has always been relatively docile and accustomed to living peacefully near humans, she was attracted to Ulf’s…how to describe it? His lack of military prowess. Or, alternatively, once Vermithor was claimed Silverwing was very, very lonely.”

You smile, and then it dies. It must be indescribably painful to be separated from one’s mate after a century together. Unsurvivable, even. “Can Silverwing fight, do you think?”

Jace heaves a sigh and shrugs. “I’m not sure if either of them can. Ulf will try, at least. Hopefully it won’t come to that, and Vermithor is enough to protect King’s Landing. Hugh Hammer is an inexperienced rider, but he’s brave and he’s committed. Each time I see him he’s better than he was before.”

Hugh Hammer is a bastard blacksmith, but he has more power in this war than I do. Ulf the White is an idiot and a drunk, but he’s a true Targaryen and I’m not. You rock your sleeping child in your arms, quieting the voices that flutter in your skull like bat wings. You kiss his wisps of dark curls and breathe in his warmth and newness and blood that is interwoven with yours.

“You could learn how to hate your own kind and claim the Cannibal,” Jace jokes.

You chuckle. “I don’t hate anyone.” Not here, not now.

Lady Caro arrives in the doorway carrying a tray of cinnamon tea. “I have come offering a trade,” she says, grinning, and shuffles excitedly across the room. She sets the tray down on the table by your chair and holds out her hands. Reluctantly, you surrender the baby. Lady Caro coos and beams at him as you and Jace sip cinnamon tea, sweet and loosing steam like morning mist into the air. “Surely by now you’ve made the logical decision to name him in my honor.”

“Carolei would be a very strange thing to call a boy,” Jace says.

“Caroson,” she jests.

You add: “Carogon. Carocaerys.”

“Awful!” Jace says, laughing.

“Have you been feeding the baby again?” Lady Caro scolds you. “We have wetnurses for that.”

“They get him all night. I want time with him too.”

“You’re barely even producing any milk. You’d make for a terrible goat.”

“Then I’ll nurse him for as long as I can.”

“You’ll end up with pitiful floppy breasts like mine.”

“Isn’t this what they’re for? Nourishing children, not being gawked at and tugged on by some man?”

Lady Caro turns to Jace, exasperated. “She has some disease. She can’t listen to anyone.”

He smiles. “She’s an untamable beast, I’m afraid. Burns up anyone who makes the attempt.”

Lord Corbray walks in, and nestled in his ancient arthritic hands is a sword in a sheath. There is a large heart-shaped ruby in the hilt. “Prince Jacaerys, I cannot begin to tell you what an honor it has been not only to host you and the princess here in our humble castle, but also to have a future king of the Seven Kingdoms born within our walls.”

Jace stands up straighter, as his mother would want him to. He’ll never look like the heir to the throne, like a Targaryen, but he can act like one. “We continue to be grateful for your hospitality.”

“To commemorate this happy occasion, I wish to gift you a cherished heirloom of my house. This is Lady Forlorn, made of Valyrian steel. She came to House Corbray over a century ago, and now I bequeath her to you. I hope she will aid you in your victory in this unjust war, and that all the realm will soon be at peace and under competent rulership.”

Jace looks at you uneasily; you pretend to be preoccupied drinking your tea. You ignore Lord Corbray’s slight against the Greens. You don’t have much choice, and you’ve had plenty of practice. Jace takes Lady Forlorn from Lord Corbray and unsheathes her, studying his reflection in the cold smoke-colored grey of the blade. His face is grave. Now he feels the weight on his shoulders of being not just a prince, an heir, a soldier, and a husband, but a father as well, something he himself never had in a way that was truthful and pure. You are alarmed to see tears gleaming in his dark eyes.

“Jace?” you say, touching his arm.

He regains his composure. “Thank you, Lord Corbray. I will treasure Lady Forlorn, and I will endeavor to always use her wisely.”

Lord Corbray smiles fondly at the slumbering baby in Lady Caro’s arms. Across the Riverlands, their sole surviving child, Jessamyn, is in hiding with her husband and children. At Lady Caro’s insistence, they fled from the Mallisters’ castle at Seagard in case Aemond and Vhagar descend upon it. He is still burning. A monster? you think. “I assume you’ve named your firstborn?”

You and Jace exchange a glance. You haven’t yet; you are afraid to discuss it with each other. There are so many possibilities—Targaryen or Velaryon or Strong—and none seem to be without some unspoken allegiance or condemnation. There are so few guiltless names left. But you think you know what Jace would choose if he dared to speak it aloud.

“We should name him after Luke,” you say. A boy, an innocent. A victim of a horrific accident that started this war.

Jace is surprised, but there is relief in his face too. “Lucerys?” he says, trying it out. Then he is solemn again. “It feels wrong to use the exact same name. Like I’m trying to replace him.”

“Lucerion,” Lady Caro suggests, still holding the baby. “It sounds like a prince’s name. It sounds like a king’s.”

Jace attaches Lady Forlorn to his belt and then takes the baby, obviously against Lady Caro’s will. “Lucerion,” Jace murmurs, smiling down at his son who is stirring awake and beginning to whimper. “Is that your name? Is that what we’ll call you?”

“Perhaps Luca for short,” you say from your chair, feeling drained and like you need to lie down. You’ll have to change your rags again soon, or you’ll bleed through them.

“Luca, the littlest dragon,” Jace proclaims, touching his fingertip to the baby’s puggish nose. Then he turns to you. “Did you have a nickname as a child? I always did and still do, of course. And Luke…” Jace trails off, thinking of his dead brother, murdered by yours.

You see your red bat traveling around the board; you feel the warmth of blood on your cheek. “They called me Red.”

“Red?” Jace is baffled. “Like the color?”

“There was a game we played when we were young, and my piece…” You close your eyes, not wanting to remember, not wanting to feel the weight of their absence. “It doesn’t matter. It was so long ago.” And you fear that Jace will hear the evasiveness in your voice and ask you more questions; but he is absorbed with the baby, and he has already forgotten.

Two days later Jace and Vermax fly south to King’s Landing, and you and Luca are left in the care of the Corbrays and the maids and the ghosts that haunt the drafty stone corridors of Heart’s Home, soldiers killed in the Riverlands and the Reach, women and children burned and starved, bones devoured by dragons, generations of names forgotten.

Sometimes you giggle with Lady Caro as you drink cinnamon tea in the Great Hall. Sometimes you stand in the castle rookery listening to the ravens caw and stare out into the cold mist of the mountains, wondering what is happening in the world outside. And sometimes you have Luca nestled in your arms and walk with him around your bedchamber, introducing him to the faces of the people you left in your old life, when you were called Red and you believed you could be someone like Visenya. But you never mention Aemond, and not just because there are no mosaics of him on the wall.

You wouldn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t know where to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~

You learn Jace is back when he climbs into bed just as you are drifting off one night, silver moonlight spilling in through the glass of the window, his body folding into you, his arm skating over your waist to find your hand and weave his fingers through yours. Two months have passed since he left, moons that grow full and then vanish, milk that dries up and blood that ceases flowing and rebuilds inside you for the next child, if there will be one, when there will be one. Luca is sleeping in his own room with his maids and wetnurses. Jace’s curls tickle your throat as he nuzzles into you as if he wants to disappear.

He says: “The littlest dragon is much bigger than I remember.”

“How was Helaena?”

“Troubled, as is to be expected, but in good health. Jaehaera and Maelor are well too. King’s Landing is cold some days now. I think they’ll have snow soon. The taxes, the riots, the stockpiling of food as the Reach and the Riverlands burn…it’s a disaster. Mother is desperate. She misses Luke, I think. And Baela, and Daemon. She’s lost so much weight I barely recognized her. But she was very, very happy to hear about Luca. Hopefully she can meet him soon. Although we’ll have to be careful traveling with him while he’s so small, we’ll have to ensure he’s warm enough.”

Winter is coming, you think, remembering Cregan Stark’s army under the protection of Daemon and Caraxes. “Did you see Rhaena and the boys at the Eyrie?”

“I did,” Jace admits, as if it was a fraught experience.

“And what happened?”

“Rhaena called me a traitor.”

“For marrying and fathering a son with me?”

“No, that she understands,” Jace says. “But it is treason to love you.”

You turn around to look at him in the shadows, in the moonlight. “You told her?”

“She could tell. I cannot hide it. I am a glass jar and you and Luca are the butterflies inside.” And Jace kisses you softly, his fingers hooked beneath your chin, his flesh coming alive again after so long away: managing and conciliating, lifting Rhaenyra’s spirits, pawing through the heaps of bastards in King’s Landing for dragonriders, flying on Vermax through storms and snow.

When you kiss Jace back, when your hands go to his chest and his jaw and his face, when you open his tunic so you can feel the heat of his skin underneath, you are aware that parts of you are waking up again as well. There is a dull but definite ache of lust beginning to bloom like a blood drop soaking into white cotton.

“Are you…” Jace begins. “Do you think you’re healed enough, I mean…have you stopped bleeding?”

You hesitate. “I have.” You think of your first time with him and how painful it was, the sensation of burning, of tearing, and you can only assume it will be worse now. “But I’m rather terrified too.”

“No, no, don’t be afraid,” Jace whispers, he pleads, running his fingers through your long unbound hair. “We don’t have to do that. I won’t hurt you. I’ll wait for as long as you want.” His dark eyes travel down the white nightgown that clings to your body, your breasts, your belly, and then lower. “Can I…can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, bewildered. Then as Jace begins to push the hem of your nightgown up over your hips to your waist, you grin and kiss him again in the dim celestial light, cool night air rushing up over your bare legs, blood surging through your arteries to where he bends low to taste you once—a long, slow, tentative drag of the tongue—and then moans quietly and pushes your thighs further apart so he can bury himself there and lick, suck, swallow down your clear mineral wetness as it pools for him.

Something isn’t quite right—not enough pressure, not the ideal angle—but it’s exquisite to be reacquainted with this side of yourself, to know you can feel this way again, insatiable and desired. When you reach to touch Jace, there is a moment when you are startled to find dark curly hair in place of silk-smooth silver, and there is a ghost in the room like a voyeur watching, and you think dazedly: If Aemond knew about this, would he kill me?

“There,” you gasp, jolting as your husband stumbles upon the perfect place and rhythm. “Jace, right there…”

He listens, he is groaning with desperation for you, and you roll into a climax that is brief and sharp and a little painful, but good. Instead of being extinguished, you are a kindled flame. You turn over, straddle Jace, and unfasten his trousers. You begin kissing your way down his belly, nipping at him, your palm kneading his hardness, and you know he wants you but for some reason when you go to take him in your mouth, he pushes you away.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jace says, alarmed.

“I know. I want to.”

“No, seriously. Stop.”

You look at him, wounded, rejected. “Jace, I’m not doing this out of obligation. I enjoy it.”

He is staring at the wall. “I just…for you to…I’m sorry, it just feels wrong.”

“I can do things you believe are only for whores and still be your wife.”

“Shh,” he says, and his voice is gentle but his face is pained. You think of something Criston once told you when you were collecting bones from the Godswood of the Red Keep: Red, it hurts your mother when you’re like this. Are you cursed to disappoint people, to repulse them, to be eternally misunderstood? “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

Jace gets out of bed and fetches a small wooden box he must have brought into the room with him when you were still half-asleep. He opens the box, debates whether to reach in, decides against it and passes you the whole box instead. “I asked the castle maester to procure some while I was away…”

You squeal with delight when you see what’s inside: three black and white bats the same breed as Sapphire was, large fanlike ears and wiggling noses and small black eyes that peer curiously up at you. When you offer them your open palms, they immediately scramble into them.

“I hope they’re good ones.” Jace chuckles nervously. “I don’t really know what makes a bat suitable or not.”

“They’re perfect,” you say, smiling. “I’ll build them a roost. I’ll introduce them to Luca.”

Yet you cannot stop yourself from thinking: Aemond wouldn’t have cared if I was still bleeding.

~~~~~~~~~~

You are snuggled up with Luca in your chair by the fire, cool midday light—the color of steel, smoke, rainclouds, ash—streaming in through the windows. The baby’s eyes have turned dark like Jace’s, and his curls grow longer. He is only half-awake and blinking drowsily, his diminutive hands clasping your fingers. He doesn’t cry often, but he doesn’t smile either. Lady Caro believes he already has the temperament of a good king, a calmness, a graveness. She says: How improper would it be for him to be full of complaints or cheerfulness, the way the world is right now? No, he ought to be serious. He ought to be grateful he’s not starving or being roasted alive.

“I have some new friends,” you whisper to the baby like a secret or a myth. “They’re asleep right now. They sleep all day, kind of like you do. But then at night they come alive and they’re free, and they fly around like hawks or dragons.”

You speak for Luca, a soft bird-trill of a voice: “What are their names?”

“Good question,” you say, smiling. “Iris, Shark, and Flood. And you’ll meet them soon.” Your eyes go to the mosaics on the walls. Jace hasn’t asked you to take them down, but he doesn’t acknowledge them either, except for the mosaic you made of him that hangs by the headboard of the bed. He beams at that one and calls it fine work. “You’ll meet the people I grew up with too. Aegon will make you wood carvings. Helaena will sew you blankets. Daeron will take you on adventures. Jaehaera and Maelor will play games with you. And Mother and Criston will love you because you won’t be like me. You’ll be sweet-tempered and honorable, and when you’re old enough you’ll have a dragon to help protect us with.”

There is a knock on the doorframe; one of Luca’s wetnurses has arrived to feed him. You regret that you can’t anymore. Lady Caro was right; you’d be a terrible goat or cow or yak.

“Princess,” the wetnurse says, curtsying before she takes the baby from you. You watch her leave with him for his own bedchamber—Lady Caro has already filled it with toys and children’s books—and as soon as they are out of sight, the darkness of your losses creeps back in like spiders scurrying down the corridors of your veins and arteries, like rust growing over steel. Then you hear the rumbling of voices downstairs in the Great Hall.

You stand and swish in your gown—one of the Vale’s anemic colors, a faint dusky rose—through the hallway and down the spiral staircase of the tower. In the belly of the castle, the commotion is louder, and you sweep into the Great Hall to find men gathered around the table closest to the roaring hearth, Lord Corbray and his knights and the maester, and Lady Caro too looking on anxiously. Jace is holding a piece of parchment in his hands, presumably just delivered by a raven. He shakes his head as he reads it. Outside, snow is falling.

Lady Caro is saying: “Well you’ll have to tell her. Oh, the poor dear, as if everything else isn’t bad enough. And only the gods know where Aemond is, he hasn’t been spotted in the Riverlands for days…” Then she spies you and shoos Lord Corbray and his men from the room. They bow to you as they depart, swift little bobs of the head. They have to; you are now both the wife and mother of future kings.

“Jace?” you say when the Great Hall is empty except for the two of you and Lady Caro.

Jace’s face is stricken. Lady Forlorn hangs from his belt. The letter is still clutched in his left hand; the right grips the hilt of his Valyrian steel sword. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?” you ask, immediately horrified. Aegon dead of his burns, Daeron killed in battle, Mother executed for treason, Aemond…? “What happened?”

“You have to believe that I had no idea about any of this, I never would have given Hugh the order if I’d been there, or let Mother do it—”

“Jace, please tell me.”

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond??

Instead, Jace says absurdly: “It’s Helaena.”

You stare at him. “Helaena isn’t a warrior.”

“No,” he agrees. “But she got to Dreamfyre somehow and tried to escape the city.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

That’s impossible. She wouldn’t leave Mother and the children. “No, she couldn’t have, she—”

“She took flight,” Jace insists. “And my mother sent Hugh Hammer after her on Vermithor.”

Vermithor was supposed to be mine, you think numbly. “And Helaena, she…she was…?”

Jace is trying to keep his voice steady; his dark eyes gleam, begging you not to hate him. “Dreamfyre attacked when Vermithor flew close to her. She wasn’t an especially aggressive dragon, but she was large and formidable, and she fought to defend her own life and that of her rider. Vermithor ripped out her throat, though Hugh was burned to death in the saddle. Then Vermithor flew eastward, and no one knows where he is now. Dreamfyre crashed to the earth, and Helaena with her. Their bodies were found on the beach outside the Red Keep.”

She can’t be dead. She never hurt anyone. She just wanted to be with her creatures and her family. She embroidered my blankets with red bats, she put ladybugs into my open palms. “Why would Helaena try to run, why would she do that?”

“I don’t know.”

You think nonsensically, as you have no way of knowing this: Because she was trying to stop something terrible from happening. “I told you to give her more freedom. And that freedom allowed her to sneak away to the Dragonpit.”

Jace reaches for you. “This isn’t your fault—”

“All of it ismy fault!” you shout at him, and Lady Caro shrinks away and covers her mouth with her hands. “If I’d had Vermithor, the Greens would have been unstoppable! And Rhaenyra never would have tried to claim the throne, and Aemond wouldn’t have been sent to Storm’s End, and Luke and Jaehaerys and Baela wouldn’t have died, and Aegon wouldn’t have been burned, and Aemond wouldn’t be destroying the Riverlands, and Helaena would still be alive, but instead I’ve always been useless!”

“You aren’t useless,” Jace pleads.

“Not normal enough to be a good wife or daughter, not extraordinary enough to have a dragon!”

Again, Jace tries to touch you, to soothe you. “Please don’t—”

You fling his hands away. “What was our marriage for if not to stop this from happening?! To end the dying, to protect the people we have left?” You whirl away from him and flee from the Great Hall, the castle, yourself. Behind you, Lady Caro is comforting Jace with soft tenderness you’ve never been capable of.

“Let her go, my prince,” she is counselling. “Give her a moment to grieve…”

You throw open the first door you pass and trudge out into the snow, no fox fur coat, bare feet. The cold stings and then your skin goes numb and it doesn’t bother you anymore. The icy mountain wind tears at your hair, flowing in long waves like the women of the Vale wear it, delicate and feminine, pretty and powerless. Tears cascade down your face; currents of red magma scorch your throat. When you close your eyes, you see the yellow butterfly that was once Helaena’s game piece.

She never hurt anyone. She never did anything wrong.

Now you are under the shadows of the soaring pine trees, their green needles so thick you cannot see the grey of the sky.

She never met Luca.

You gaze up into the branches, covered with tufts of white snow and icicles like fangs, and you have the overwhelming, ravenous feeling that you need to go home. You don’t belong in the Vale. The Vale almost killed you when you were a child, Aemond’s hands shoving you into a rushing stream freckled with ice.

And then all at once—like you’ve been hit, like you’ve been stabbed with a blade—you are flying high above the castle and the wind is raking over your cheeks, but it is not your face but Aemond’s, half-blind and half-scarred, torrential red waves of a sea of blood in his skull.

He’s here, he’s here—

And if he’s able to see through your eyes that you are outside in the forest…

The castle!!!

You bolt through the trees back towards Heart’s Home, your bare feet leaving tracks in the fresh powdery snow that is nearly up to your knees, and you stumble out of the shadows just as Vhagar soars overhead and unleashes her flames on the castle, wood burning, stones collapsing, people inside shrieking as they incinerate. You’re screaming for Aemond to stop, but he does not hear you and he does not see you either, he is high above in a place you’ve never been and never will be, he is flying, and he is hearing only devastation and he is breathing in its dark, intoxicating smoke, and as Vhagar swoops by the stable and it bursts into an inferno—horses galloping loose and engulfed in fire, dead but not knowing it yet—you run into the crumbling castle.

“Jace?!” you shout, but the air is full of smoke and the sounds of wood cracking and stones caving in are deafening. You feel blindly for the spiral staircase that leads up to the tower where your and Luca’s bedchambers are located. From the part of the castle that was once the Great Hall, you can hear Lord Corbray and Lady Caro screaming as their skin blisters and sloughs away and their flesh is cooked and their bones are charred black, and when the flames reach their lungs the screams go quiet. You cannot think about them. You don’t have any time; you must think of Luca and Jace. “Jace!” you bellow through the smoke.

And then there is a weak reply: “Here.”

You follow it into the stairwell. Parts of the wall have been blasted away; you can see the pine forest outside, the cold barren sky, the Mountains of the Moon. Jace is halfway up the steps, slumped against the fractured wall and pinned there by stones that have rained down on his legs. His bones must be broken; his face is bloodless and his curls matted to his forehead by sweat. His right hand fumbles futilely for the hilt of Lady Forlorn. Now, dimly, you can hear Luca crying.

Jace rasps as he stares vacantly up at you: “I tried to get to him. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jace, I can do it.”

“I love you.”

“I’ll be right back.”

You climb over him and chase Luca’s wails up the staircase. Vhagar is back, and the ruins of the castle tremble when she roars, and you feel the heat of her flames radiating up through the floor. You lose your footing and clamber up the last few steps on your hands and knees, then manage to stand again and careen into Luca’s room. Half the roof has collapsed; a wetnurse is sprawled on the floor and half-buried in fallen stones, blood hemorrhaging out of her mouth and ears. You grab the baby out of his cradle and quickly bundle him in his blanket patterned with blue dragonflies. His tiny hands grasp at your face and your hair as you rush back down the spiral staircase to help Jace. Smoke needles your eyes; you and Luca are both coughing as you try to clear your lungs.

You reach Jace and kneel beside him, holding Luca in your left arm and using your right to try to roll the stones off Jace’s legs, but he’s not helping you.

“Jace, please, we have to go now,” you say, but when you look at his face he’s not there. His dark eyes are glassy, his chest doesn’t rise and fall with the tide of air.

He’s gone, you think. Like Father, Luke, Jaehaerys, Baela, Rhaenys, Helaena. And you are struck by an excruciating pang of fondness for Jace more forceful than anything you ever felt for him when he was alive, and you cannot leave him here. He was your husband, he was Luca’s father. And he loved you. He must have. He said it over and over again.

“Jace?” you sob. But outside Vhagar is still flying—the gales churned up by her wings gust into the jagged holes in the castle walls—and she could be coming back, she could be returning to burn you, and Jace is dead but the baby is still alive.

You clutch Luca to you as he cries and you race down the steps, following the smoke-filled, twisted passageway. The heat is suffocating, the sounds of a dying castle engulfing, Heart’s Home turned into a graveyard, into a shattered skeleton, charred and cursed like Harrenhal. You crash through the door at the base of the stairwell and into the ground level of the castle, and you are almost out—

Something ignites, something explodes, and stones from the castle wall you are feeling your way along rip out of their centuries-old mortar and collide with you. Your ribs crack, you are thrown to the floor, but even as you scream and claw your way out of the rubble you don’t let go of the baby. You force yourself upright and stagger with Luca towards a gaping chasm where there was once a wall. There is a tremor like an earthquake. Outside, Vhagar must be landing.

Now you are in the snow again, bare feet and a gown covered with soot and wreckage. The baby isn’t crying anymore. When you glance down at the blanket he is swaddled in, the white space between the blue dots of dragonflies is turning red with blood.

Blood?

You can’t look. You can’t allow yourself to feel it; it will consume you until there is nothing left. The last vestiges of the castle are crumpling. Across the field, Vhagar is devouring Vermax’s small, broken corpse, crushing his bones in her massive, monstrous jaws.

Blood??

Aemond’s footsteps are behind you, crunching in the snow. His cloak cracks in the frigid wind like the sails of a ship. His words are full of dark, euphoric, lethal triumph, a high like nothing he’s ever known, not even when he claimed Vhagar, not even what he imagined he would feel on your wedding day when you’d be bound to each other with fire and blood in the tradition of Old Valyria. “I said I would find you, and I did.”

You hear your own voice as if from a very far distance, lightning strikes miles away but moving closer. “You killed him.”

Aemond is puzzled. You are supposed to be happy. You are saved, you are home. “Killed who?”

“He’s dead, and there will never be another. Not like this one. Jace was his father, but Jace is gone. You killed him too.”

And you turn to face him, and Aemond sees what you are holding in your arms, and only then does he understand.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #jace velaryon x reader #jace x you #jace x reader #jace velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon

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that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction · 2 days ago

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Sometimes I think Merlin and Arthur started the sacrificing each other to save each other shit too soon into the series.

Then I remember this scene exists.

(Screenshot from S1E2 - Valiant of Merlin bringing the snake head from the enchanted shield to Arthur to warn him that he’s in danger.)

They moved quickly, but they have a damn good reason for it. I honestly can’t say I blame them.

Merlin learned two things about his destiny with Arthur from this episode:

The first is that Arthur will listen when it matters, but his father’s influence runs deep. Arthur cares more about people’s opinion of him than anything else because he’s been groomed his entire life to become the future king, and Uther is tyrannical in his power so he believes that his is the only way to rule. Arthur picked up bad habits, so while he’s still young and learning what kind of man and leader he wants to be, he could still go either way and Merlin can’t yet trust him to always make the best decisions. (Proved in S1E3 when he enlists Morgana to talk to Arthur about the Afank)

The second thing is that Arthur believes in the systems that Merlin knows to be broken, so he learns it’s better to come to Arthur with results rather than warnings, because Arthur believes the systems in place can help, even in situations where they’d be more of a liability.

Both points are then enforced through season 1 and reinforced by Merlin himself in season 2 onwards.

Arthur learned that Merlin is loyal and honest to a fault, but because of the lifelong grooming as royalty and someone who’s supposed to be “above all others” - as proven when Uther says “his life isn’t worthless, it’s worth less than yours” to Arthur in S1E4 when he denies Arthur a group of men to take to save Merlin - it takes a while for it to really sink in that someone can be loyal and genuinely like him without ulterior motive, and when he finally does recognise that Merlin’s devotion is genuinely sincere, he pushes Merlin away (S2E1) in an attempt to keep himself from getting too close and then hurt by what his father would call his own naivety, rather than just admitting that sometimes people are just bad people who do bad things.

He then subconsciously or not learns that Merlin not being by his side is bad so he keeps him around but at a distance with walls built to protect himself. I can go more into that another time. Uther scapegoats Arthur for a lot, and even acknowledges that he’s a bad parent a few times but never does anything to change the behaviour so his apologies aren’t worth shit. Add that to the genocidal tyranny, and you’ve got a fascinating character who somehow isn’t the main villain of the story. I hate him, he should go play hop scotch on quick sand, but damn is he interesting from a writing/analytical standpoint.

So, yeah, they moved from “if anyone wants to kill him, they can go right ahead. I’ll give them a hand” (-Merlin S1E1) to “…Certain death. Few who have crossed the mountains in search of the Mortaeus Flower have made it back alive” “Sounds like fun” (-Gaius and Arthur S1E4) pretty quickly, but it makes sense when you think about why they moved that quickly with context of how they interact and their (assumed) past experiences.

#merlin meta #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merthur #merlin x arthur #merlin and arthur #bbc gaius #long post #character analysis #sorta #i’m bad at tagging #coherency? on my blog? never.#fuck uther #season 1 episode 2 #bbc valiant #i’m going insane

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valentine-cafe · 2 days ago

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First time customer here, so kinda nervous (⁠〃ﾟ-ﾟ⁠〃⁠) but can I order a tiramisu and affogato(?) please!

they're in the middle of smexy time when it just gets overwhelming for reader and having to end up using their safe words, and reader being ashamed because they can usually take more than that?? also curious to see what safe words they would have!

[amab reader] idrc if reader is top or bottom, anything that works with you is fine! thank you (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

pssh feel free to reject this order (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕)

˖��. ﹙ vampire lieutenant dilf x bottom male reader x antihero mercenary boyfriend. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . you never have to apologise !! 🍒 : vampiric ˖ lieutenant ˖ dilf character ˖ antihero ˖ mercenary ˖ enigma character character﹙ verse 781 vespsiano & alessio. ﹚

during your session with your boyfriend, it ends up getting a bit too overwhelming and in the heat of the moment, you say your safe word, only to get ashamed after cw: safeword usage, ending smut, anal

ps: why would we ever reject such a good order? this was lovely to write, thank you dear

﹙ alessio 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : “A-Av - Avo -” Avocadoes.

He didn’t need to hear the entire word before his ramming hips stopped on impact. Cold sweat runs down the back of his neck and spine. Guilt floods his olive features. Shit.

Alessio pulls out of you in a split second. Hands raised in the slightest before he buffs out, his breath still far from him with the chase of release he ran for the both of you.

“Can - Can I - fuck -” he huffs out, attempts to steady his breathing. “Can I touch you amorcito? ‘s over. We done now.”

Your vision bugs, the sight of his face brings tears to the corners of your eyes as you give a small nod of your head. That look your beloved, sweet Alessio gave you was enough to twist guilt in your gut. The overwhelm now replaced by a hole of insecurity.

“I. . . ‘m-’m sorry ‘essio. . . I - I-I can - I can go a bit more actu -”

His thumb is on your cheek in a matter of minutes. A strong arm hooks around your back and hoists you against his warm skin. The frown on his lips sends your tears down your face - and he wipes them before you can even attempt to brush them away. “Hey, hey, sshhh.” his kiss meets your ear and warmth floods you chest from his deep, gentle voice. “Baby, breathe yeah? I don’t wanna do more. Tell me what’s going on.”

The silence followed tugged strings of discomfort through your body, yet you couldn’t bear to speak. Not yet. Instead you dwelled in the touch of his stroking hand

along your head and his soft murmurs telling you it was all alright.

“I. . . I-I can usually go for longer - I. . . . ‘m sorry. Just got overwhelmed.”

His smile brings you back to serenity and his lips press peppers lightly. Tenderly.

“Queriidooo, ssh. Don’t be silly.” You’re on his chest in a matter of seconds. Arms loose yet ever the refuge for you as you slump your head to his collarbone and whimper. “My main concern is you baby. Safeword means no more. I don’t care about you takin’ more in the past. What matters is the you now.”

His finger pokes at your forehead and he flashes you his usual signature grin.

﹙ vespasiano 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : Droplets of sweat trickle down your body. The squeeze around your shaft and the rough pace of your husband from behind you is so overwhelming. More than it has ever been.

As much as you want to keep going. You feel as though you are going to faint from the overstimulation done across your body. Skillful hands working around you.

Grabbing, pulling, moving. His words encouraging as usual, yet the sound of the sugarcoated degradation rings in your ears a bit sharper than usual.

You choke out, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes. Already then he begins to slow his thrusts, double checking and awaiting any words that are to come.

“Ve—esp. Pop-ppopy” The word feels so strangled. But in an instant, you feel the man behind you stop any of the motions and pull out, gently shifting around on the bed to pick you up and slowly lay you down to make sure you don’t collapse.

He tries not to worry too much whether it was too hard or something else was going on. He’s more concerned with helping you right now, and making sure that you stay up and going with him.

Though, the tears of guilt and regret forming in your eyes say it all.

“Hey— heyheyhey, ‘s okay, don’t cry.” He ushers, hushing you gently whilst moving away any strands of hair from your face.

“I jus’ got s’ overwhelmed ‘m sorry— you, you can continue. It’s okay. I can go again—” You murmur, the embarrassment creeping up on you in such great amounts you can’t handle the situation in any proper way.

In response to your words, he shakes his head and smiles. Moving a thumb across your cheek while sitting up to get all of the stuff to clean you up with.

“Amore. Enough is enough, you just need rest. Alright? You did so well.” He reassures, emerald eyes gazing at you with an almost puppy-eyed look. “You never have to apologise for things becoming too much.”

“I just, I can go on for so much longer than this usually. . .” A sigh escapes him at your words, and all he does is once more shake his head.

“So? Today was not usually, maybe tomorrow?”

The soft chuckles warm you up once more, this time with gratitude at his understanding rather than embarrassment.

Grunting as he gets up from the bed, he walks towards the bathroom. Looking over his shoulder and back at you as he stops in the middle of the doorway.

“Let’s get you cleaned up yeah? Get some food after.”

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as8bakwthesage · 3 days ago

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How Revenge Consumed the Administrator (Part III)

Part I - Part II - Part III

Spoilers below

So, she's on death's door, she's given up all of her remaining Australium in order to watch him die. But I think it's more than just that.

She not only wants to look her best, but she also wants to look exactly how she looked like when she first met him, face to face. I think she wants him to see her, at least one more time, as she was. She wants him to see the face of the woman who ruined him.

And right as the final moment is about to arrive, Miss Pauling and the Mercs walk in. And Miss Pauling asks her one question:

The Administrator's response?

And it's fitting. She's been doing this for so long, it's consumed her every living moment. She's been alive for so long, living as a ghost of a person, all for the sole purpose of torturing someone she hates. And it was all thanks to the Australium.

I think when we saw the Administrator talking about "it" in the previous chapter, we assumed she was talking about Australium. But that isn't the case. The Australium is what allowed her to keep going for so long, it was a tool to her. There was no big world ending or world dominating plan for her. It was so personal, so intensely personal that it consumed her entirely. Until there was nothing left. The reason doesn't matter anymore.

But upon seeing Miss Pauling, The Administrator has a glimmer of hope.

There's more! Of course there's more! The Engineer had been wrong! It can continue! In her delirium, she begs Miss Pauling to tell her if she found more. Perhaps she can keep this going again! Perhaps she can extend Zepheniah Mann's suffering even longer! Perhaps- perhaps...

But Miss Pauling hesitates. She hides the Australium behind her back. She considers the woman in front of her. And I think she feels pity.

This facial expression right here. You can see Miss Pauling realising just what the Australium has turned her boss into, you can see her realising that the woman she looked up to all this time... was someone who should have been dead a century ago.

And perhaps, as a mercy, she tells the Administrator:

And you can see the exact moment the Administrator realises that it is finally over.

In disappointment? Relief? I think it might be a combination of both. But regardless, she'd make these last moments count.

She turns back to the man who destroyed her... and she laments.

She's trying to process all of her feelings, all of this time she spent doing this. She's angry, she's horrified, she's mourning. All the time lost and wasted. She could have done anything. Could have been anything. She was smart enough, and she knew this. She falls to her knees, and weeps.

But even still... she wipes her tears, and grins.

And then she proclaims:

Because at the end of the day, no matter how much time she wasted, no matter how much pain and energy she put into this... it was all she ever was. She knew this when she tried to kill herself all those years ago. She knew this the moment her parents died.

In the end? It was worth every single moment.

She takes his body down, holding it. And I genuinely believe that they are both dead here. They've been alive for so long that when the Australium is gone, they both turn to dust. Not even the bones remain. There is no way to bring them back now, and I highly doubt that either of them want to come back.

"Just you and me" until the bitter end.

~~~

The Administrator has become one of my favourite characters of all time and it is solely because of this amazing end to a comic series I have been following since I was tween. And it's solely because of just how fucking personal her motivations are. It's not grand or glorious or even anything to do with the world. She doesn't give a shit. She's not your typical villain, she's not Grey Mann.

She's caused so much pain and turmoil just because of her insatiable desire for revenge. And not just revenge, but to torment the man who ruined her life. But at the end of the day, she ruined and fulfilled her own life. And even though it was so bleak and terrible, it was her happy ending to finally die.

Just... wow. What a send-off to a character. What a brilliant fucking character. Massive props to the writers and artists for conveying such a complex yet still absolutely cruel and vicious character. It is so much better than a typical "take over the world" plot and her character is better for it.

This was the best holiday present ever.

Anyway, uh... thanks for reading this! I hope you enjoyed my ramblings!

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #the administrator #miss pauling #zepheniah mann #aso rambles

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felassan · 3 days ago

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Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 3. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Two]

Ran out of characters or something in post 2. :)

User: "I LOVE the line "a raw, strangling fear, struck somewhere deep past the heart". It's beautiful and it resonates with me since I myself struggle with anxiety. Now for the questions! 1) Can you talk more about the banter between Emmrich and Harding after we start romancing him? What is her motivation behind it? Is she critical of their relationship or is she worried about Emmrich? 2) I love the argument Rook and Emmrich have before Tearstone Island, it gives nice depth to their relationship. But what did Emmrich think he would accomplish with that conversation? Did he want to break up with Rook because he thought it would be easier for him if something happened to Rook? 3) Not a question but I love Hezenkoss. Such a dedicated hater lol. -- Sylvia Feketekuty: "That was one of the first lines where I started to feel I had a handle on his voice in the first draft, so that means a lot to hear. (And thank you for noting the team effort, I got a lot of great feeback from the other writers and the editors on Emmrich. He wouldn't be as good without them.) On to questions: 1) My personal take: I think Harding is worried because she's very perceptively noticed how hard Emmrich's fallen for Rook, and that he's a man of large emotions. (And because they become pretty good friends over the course of the game.) 2) I think Emmrich let his anxieties run away with him, afraid that this romance wasn't, couldn't possibly be the One True Love he so wanted, and that's how his fear expressed itself. (Did he WANT to break up? No, but he was bracing himself in case Rook did think it was only a fling and so on and so forth, they should get it out in the open, and so on.) 3) Thank you! I loved writing her. She will always be a hater until her (un)dying day."" [source, two, three, four, five, six] -- John Epler: "someday we'll get the Hezenkoss/Anaris reluctant team-up the world deserves" [source] -- Sylvia: "Somehow, in the realm of pure imagination, they're already trying to strangle each other." [source] -- User: "Very important question- would Anaris finger gun? (Finger crossbow?)" -- John: "as a man defined primarily by his tremendous insecurities Anaris also takes himself incredibly seriously and unconsciously mirrors Elgar'nan, an elf he both loathes and desperately wishes he were so the real question is, would Elgar'nan finger gun?" [source]

User: "On my 1st run I thought some choices felt like the 'bad' ones and avoided them - Lich Emmerich, Harding's Anger, Qunari Taash etc. But on my 2nd run I was so pleasantly surprised to see that it wasn't the case! None of the companion choices feel right or wrong, just different, and that's fantastic." / Sylvia: "Thanks! We tried to make either choice compelling, to have something for different players either way. So I'm so glad to hear that." [source]

User, on Manfred winning a character award: "Congrats Manfred we knew you had it in you!" / Sylvia: "He did it! My little skeleton pal did it! (Especial thanks to the animators and voice actor, Matt Mercer, because like 90% of his personality lives in those gangly limbs and his hissing)" [source]

User: "I just wanted to say that Emmerich and Josephine are so interesting and well-written" / Sylvia: "I feel very lucky I got to bring them into DA, with teams that went for them 100%." [source]

User: "I enjoyed Emmrich's addendum to the codex about Templars in Nevarra: are they primarily there as backup if something goes profoundly wrong? Would they ever get someone who just wants to help down in the Necropolis, pretty please? (also <3 Vorgoth, they're great)" / Sylvia: ""are they primarily there as backup if something goes profoundly wrong?" That was my own take. You don't NOT want Templars, in case some ritual gets disrupted in an utterly disastrous fashion. But other times...the Mortalitasi flex their clout. "Would they ever get someone who just wants to help down in the Necropolis, pretty please?" Some Watchers might not be immune to flattery. I think a few templars could be all right under some circumstances, but that they'd be assigned a mage. (A bit of a reverse of the southern mage-templar pairs.) "(also <3 Vorgoth, they're great)" Thank you! I was so pumped when I saw the final art for them, everything I'd dreamed. (And their voice actor, Brent Mukai, was amazing.)" [source, two, three]

User: "I wanted to ask you what you think nevarran wedding attire might look like? or if you’ve considered it? asking for science." / Sylvia: "Geeze, that's a good question. I imagine the couple would exchange some custom-made grave gold pieces to mark the occasion, given how important it is in Nevarra. But other than that, you should let your imagination run wild." [source]

User: "Is seeing Josephine as Asexual or part of the Ace Spectrum a valid interpretation of her character?" / Sylvia: "Totally, if that's how you want to see the character and relationship. (My policy is generally that if it's not directly contradicted in the game, you can take that kind of thing as a valid read of the character.)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'll say this (spoiler free): there's a scene in "Walking the Graves" where I felt Emmrich's voice finally click for me on the first draft, so that one's special to me." [source]

User: "I remembered some questions I had about Emmrich.. Can he play any instruments? I always invision him playing a pipe organ or maybe violin! If not, are there any he would like to learn? 😊 Also, I was curious, can he ice skate? out on that frozen Nevarran lake in winter" / Sylvia: "Those are interesting questions. Because they're something I never considered or wrote, there's no real canon there yet. I see Emmrich as more an appreciator of music than a musician, but can't rule it out. As for ice-skating, I'm not even sure we've shown that in Thedas. I think Emmrich would enjoy it though. UPDATE: a friend reminded me about this tidbit from World of Thedas 2: "Ice skating – during the winter in Nevarra, people often skate on the frozen over Minanter river." So it's canon now. Emmrich ice-skates. He instantly manifests a scarf when doing so. (I fall on my sword for forgetting this.)" [source, two, three]

User: "about Josephine: what would her ideal/dream wedding be? I was tickled when I read about that in her letter to her Inquisitor I just have to know" / Sylvia: "what a delightful question in turn! I think she'd want a big, flower-filled, no-holds barred wedding at her family's estate. All her relatives, friends she made in the Inquisition, the Inquisitor's relatives (if they have any/keep in touch.) She'd begin planning 16 months in advance." [source]

Sylvia: "Aw thank you! (On behalf of me, and the rest of the team, so many people worked so hard on our eccentric necromancer man.)" [source]

Sylvia: "The Mourn Watch and Emmrich are a bit eccentric, but I really wanted their reverence for the dead (and the living) to feel genuine." [source]

User: "As someone who himself gets awful pangs about the thought of death and nothingness, it was really refreshing to see a character have those same thoughts as me, especially as he also happens to be a Necromancer who is around death daily." / Sylvia: "You're welcome, and thanks for the kind words. It's a familiar thing for me too, so I really wanted to talk about it. I suspect it's far more common than we might think." [source]

User: "My HOF was a spirit healer, very kind & very curious, & for years I've considered how that special connection to spirits might lend itself to an interest in Thedan necromancy & puzzling out where spirits & souls begin & end. Emmrich, Manfred/Curiosity and the wisps gave me so much to think about!" / Sylvia: "Thank you so much! And that's interesting about your HOF. They may've found some kindred spirits if they ever ventured further north." [source]

User: "No questions other than thank you and the team for Emmrich and Nevarra / The Mourn Watch. Seeing death treated with such kindness, empathy and as beautiful renewal rather than grim end is so refreshing and personal to me, it was a great experience to have!" / Sylvia: "That's one of the things I really wanted to express in Emmrich's arc, so I'm so glad you felt that way." [source]

User: "I feel that my Rook would want to learn more about the Mourn Watch after saving the world." / Sylvia: "Emmrich and the Watchers would love that. Emmrich probably has like, five lectures he could rattle off without preparation for your Rook already, haha." [source]

User: "do you have any favorite tidbits about Audric or Myrna that you can share?" / Sylvia: "As for tidbits, hrm. I did post something on what Audric's up to these days. Nothing surprising, but he's doing well! And I never wrote it in-game, so it lives in the hazy world of "only canon in my head": while Emmrich doesn't come from nobility, Myrna does-the Van Markham branch. She had the finest education, even before the Watchers. She doesn't play it up much, though. Her real passion's her work. And the theater. (I did a small bit about her love of theater here [link or see Post Two]. I think she's a regular attendee.)" [source, two, three]

Sylvia: "I also really wanted to explore more of the Necropolis ever since I first read about it. I'm very lucky the team and I finally got to show everyone the crypts..." [source]

User: "he stories, the worldbuilding, the characters, the locations, I loved it all so much I played my MW Rook twice" / Sylvia: "Nice. The Mourn Watch appreciates your studious interest in the hallowed art of necromancy." [source]

Sylvia: "thank you on behalf of the whole team, as you've surmised there were a lot of people bringing him to life. (Especial props to Nick Borraine, his VA, who's wonderful in the role.)" [source]

Sylvia: "It always makes me happy when people mention the short stories, and glad you enjoyed meeting (and perhaps romancing...) Emmrich." [source]

Sylvia, on Vorgoth: "I'm afraid I deliberately left our cloak-shrouded Watcher a mystery. But I'll say this: I'm sure they'd show your Rook in that picture their art collection, an honor Vorgoth bestows only on those they like or trust." [source]

User: "does the watch have any rules in regards to courtship/marriage between fellow watchers? An does Emmrich lecture at the Necropolis or at the College of Magi in Cumberland?" / Sylvia: "1) I actually got into that a little here [link or see Post Two]. Short story, it's not forbidden for mages within Circles to court or marry, so no particular rules there I think. 2) That is a very good question. Full disclosure, I am answering on the fly with what I think makes most sense. I can see Emmrich doing a bit of both in his younger days. But as he grew older, more specialized in his field, and had more MW responsibilities, he probably worked more out of the Necropolis. (And prefers it anyhow.) By the time DAV starts, it's probably been years since he was in Cumberland." [source, two, three]

User: "Thank you for your moving portrayal of thanatophobia. While most people have some fear of death, it was amazing to see the thanatophobic panic attacks etc portrayed so accurately." / Sylvia: "Thanks - they're not an unfamiliar phenomenon to me, I wanted Emmrich to try to get across that helplessness and wretched terror. (I suspect more people are affected by them than we commonly talk about.)" [source]

User: "whoever decided “DA liches are immortal protectors and not always evil?” Chef’s kiss. It’s all I’ve ever wanted!" / Sylvia: "Thanks again! It was in Emmrich's first draft. The other writers and editors gave me good feeback on lichdom and the philosophy behind it especially" [source]

User: "I wonder, did you prefer writing for either lich Emmrich or mortal? I would imagine it's a bit different." / Sylvia: "I wouldn't say I had a favorite, but it was fun to try to figure out what approach to take in scenes that had split lich/mortal lines. I didn't want Emmrich to be unrecognizable as a lich, but I did want him to occasionally be a little different, slowly absorbing what he'd become. We see him at the start of this new stage of his existence, so I think even by the end of Veilguard he's still just at the very start of adjusting to, and exploring, what he is now. I liked giving him that wonder!" [source, two]

Sylvia: "The Memorial Gardens were the heart of the Necropolis to me, the level artists and level designer and our audio team worked so much magic there. (And the lighting team! First time I saw it properly lit I think I clapped.)" [source]

User: "Also wanted to know if you wrote Josephine’s letter to Inquisitor if romanced?" / Sylvia: "I did write that letter, thanks! It was a joy to return to Josephine, even in a codex sent to her dearest Inquisitor." [source]

Sylvia on where Emmrich sleeps: "As to his sleeping arrangements, I gave a tantalizing (non) answer here [[link] or see [Post Two]]. (Though I think he'd prefer a proper bed, whatever form it takes. Emmrich's too old to be sleeping on cots like a student anymore.)" [source]

Sylvia: "So glad the team and I got to crack open the ancient doors of the Grand Necopolis, I've been curious about it too ever since reading about it eons ago. (And very glad you're liking MW Rook, I really wanted things to feel different when chatting with Emmrich as a Watcher yourself!)" [source]

User: "I enjoyed Johanna IMMENSELY and she is most definitely my favourite villain of all time now, so thank you for her as well!" / Sylvia: "She was a treat to write. (And Hezenkoss would 100% applaud you on your fine judgement and obvious taste.)" [source]

Sylvia on Emmrich's fear: "I'm not unfamiliar with that fear either, and it means a great deal to hear getting to know Emmrich helped you out even a little. (And happy to hear you dug Manfred!)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'm especially glad you liked the battle theme. Our music director instantly got the tone of Emmrich's arc, he and the audio team spun off so many great tracks from that core theme." [source]

User on Emmrich: "He's a brilliant character and everyone involved in his creation should be very proud!" / Sylvia: "There were a lot of people working on him, I was lucky so many people got onboard right away with our professor of necromancy. And I loved writing him chatting with Bellara, the mentor/student relationship was fun to hash out with her writer." [source]

User: "(1/2) Hello Sylvia! Like everyone else, I love Emmrich, but I also wanted to say thank you for your work in DAI. Josie was my first romance in DA and I love her a lot. My question had to do with her codex entry in Veilguard for a romanced Inquisitor: (2/2) Her letter in Veilguard implies she hasn't married yet, 10 years later. Josie is so image-conscious in how she conducts herself, so I was surprised she would put off marriage for that long as the first born noble of her house. Curious what the idea behind it was if you can share." / Sylvia: "Thank you! I'm honored to hear Josepine was your first DA romance. Re: marriage, you're right, that is a big time gap. I basically didn't want to surprise returning players with a marriage that had already happened to their Inquisitor offscreen. I'm sure Josephine has kept busy with world affairs, and so has the Inquisitor, which isn't a bad reason it's taken so long. But I thought it'd be more engaging for players to imagine the proposal, how they'd react, what the wedding would be like, as something good happening to them in the future." [source, two]

User: "I wanted to ask about banter I saw online; why does Taash say Emmrich smells like potash? Isn't that a bad smell, like rotten eggs? He doesn't strike me as a smelly person outside of being around the dead. Maybe Trick would know too" / Trick Weekes: "IIRC, I based it on residual scents that would come from chemicals -- can't remember whether it was what you'd get from working with embalming liquids or something used to style hair. That said, Taash comments on scents non-adaari can't detect, so it's not like he smells bad to normal people." [source] / Sylvia: "Chiming in late, but what Trick said. Taash has an incredible sense of smell, but they're detecting the tiny residuals. (Which is why poor Taash can smell that burial Emmrich helped with, even though he scrubbed down thoroughly afterwards. Gotta keep hygienic!)" [source]

User: "I wish more games had Romances like this, he was just simply perfect. [Emmrich] believably cares for Rook." / Sylvia: "I'm glad that part felt heartfelt, it was one of the cores of his romance for me." [source]

User: "What inspired you to want to go into writing for games? Or just writing in general?" / Sylvia: "I've played games since I was about 5 years old and that's what really did it. I fell in love at once with these cool, weird little worlds you could visit as someone else. As for writing in general, it feels goofy (or ominous) to call it a Calling, but it's just something I've always enjoyed doing. It's also probably what I'm best at, which means I'm unfathomably lucky I ended up at BioWare. I don't think I would've been happy until I was doing game writing somewhere, somehow!" [source, two]

User: "I have two questions about his and Johanna's childhood. 1. How and when did he and her(johanna) meet? 2. What was the story between him and her back then? Sorry if it's too long a question. Thank you! Oh I'm so sorry, how could I forget another important question😭😓 3. How tall do you think he is👀 He's almost as tall as Taash!" / Sylvia: "I have not forgotten the other two questions, I'll get to them later (it's just getting late here) but this one's a little easier. I THINK he's about 6 foot 2 inches without his boots, so about 6 foot 3 with them on. (A character artist would have to confirm or deny if I'm remembering right.)" [source]

Sylvia on her time at BioWare: "So I gt a 5 year award statue that looked like a glass disc, and then we swapped over the to the BioWare Character award statues so I got Wrex as my 10th one. (I think I remember people who'd been around earlier than me with those clocks on their desks!)" [source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #lgbtq #mass effect #dragon age: tevinter nights

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osohchoso · 3 days ago

Text

Under the Mistletoe

bf!Choso x Reader

“I just don't get what the big deal is about this Christmas thing.” He admits, his eyes flicking back to the screen for a brief second. Then it hits you. Sometimes you forget that there are still many things that feel foreign to the half-curse. Things that you grew up with and felt natural to you. Your sweet boyfriend has never experienced this magical winter holiday.

Content: fluff, fluff and more FLUFF, reader has no given gender or description, no use of y/n, established relationship, reader is homesick, reader is implied sorcerer, comfort, christmas and winter activities, pet names (baby, babe, love), found family, a bit cheesy, links to Twitter for visuals :)

SFW!

WC: 7.2k

December 1st

You and Choso are cuddling together on the couch as your fireplace crackles in the background, filling the house with a comfortable warmth that contrasts from the chilly outdoors. Eyes glued to the TV screen as you watch the first Christmas movie of the year. A large quilt wrapped around both of you, hands locked together beneath the blanket. His calloused thumb caresses the back of your hand, the only sign he was still awake. The warmth from his body acts as your personal heater as you lean your head against his shoulder. You exhale a pleasant sigh, this is exactly what you needed.

This would be your first year spending the holidays away from family. Now that December has come, you can’t stop thinking about how much you miss them. Christmas was always such a big deal back home, but you weren't able to accrue enough time off to fly back home. Last year you moved across the country for a job position at Jujutsu Tech, personally picked by Satoru Gojo himself. So you picked up and moved, essentially starting a whole new life. As scary as it was, you were welcomed into their community, making friends quickly with the other sorcerers and students. Through them, you also met your loving boyfriend Choso. Whose cheek is currently pressed against the top of your head as he stares at the TV screen.

“I just don't get it,” he mutters suddenly, more to himself than you.

“Get what baby?” You ask as he lifts his head, your gaze meeting his conflicted brown eyes.

“This” he waves his free hand wildly toward the movie you put on in hopes of curing your winter blues.

“Oh? You don’t understand the movie?” You ask, cocking your head. You thought it was a pretty straight forward story, it was a children’s movie after all. Before you can open your mouth to break down the plot of the animated film, he interrupts you.

“Oh! Christmas? It’s a holiday Cho. It happens once every year during December. It’s a special celebration where you gather with your loved ones and make lots of memories.”

“And…you're required to bring the trees in the house?” He points to the screen as the characters decorate a Christmas tree, a skeptical look on his face causing you to giggle.

“There is more than just that. It’s baking cookies and giving gifts, parties and hot cocoa!” As you gush about your favorite traditions, you feel a spark set off inside you. Igniting the Christmas spirit that the dreary weather had locked away from you, thawing the excitement you used to feel toward this season. “Most importantly, it's about spending time with family.” You add.

“I still don't think I fully understand.” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck as he processes your words.

That's when you realize, you don’t have to fly all the way back home to celebrate. Choso is your family now, and he’s right here. With the cutest confused look plastered to his face as he waits for you to reply.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you.” You smile warmly before leaning in to plant a light kiss to his cheek.

After 150 years, Choso would be celebrating his first Christmas.

December 8th

Both you and Choso were lucky enough to only work a half day today. Warnings of a looming snowstorm caused the school to close early, wanting the students and staff to take necessary precautions. The two of you decide to head back to your place together after leaving Jujutsu Tech, snow already lightly falling. He opens the front door for you, always such a gentleman, and follows you inside.

“Can we watch another Christmas Movie?” He asks slightly excited before he's even finished sliding his boots off. His sudden interest in the holiday catches you by surprise. You have both been so busy with work the past week you haven’t had any time to relax together, let alone indulge in some holiday festivities.

“Sure Choso.” You smile as you lead him over to the couch, throwing a couple blankets over the two of you. You find another holiday classic and press play.

“Yuji told me about Christmas,” he mentions, eyes glued to the screen. “It sounds very fun and I can’t wait to celebrate it with you.” He whispers as he presses his lips to your temple in a soft kiss. His sweet words warm your soul.

“Me too Cho. I’m glad I get to spend my Christmas with you.” You melt into his embrace as the movie plays.

“I've been researching it. Christmas” he explains. “It’s something you love, so I want to know all there is about it.” He admits. How did you end up with such a thoughtful man?

As the movie continues, you notice Choso paying attention less and less, his eyes drawn to the heavy snow falling outside your window. Eventually, he ignored the movie completely, the movie he requested to watch. Mesmerized by the falling specks of white. You reach for the remote to pause the film.

“Baby, you aren’t even watching” you laugh slightly, elbowing him in the side.

“Sorry. It's just…look.” He doesnt turn back to you as he speaks, eyes still watching the window. His index finger pointing. “It’s beautiful.” He exhales dreamily. The way he speaks about the weather, something so common this type of year, makes you smile wide.

“It is isn't it. Do you want to go outside and watch?” You ask.

“Yes! Can we?” He nods furiously, excited with the chance to see his first snowfall up close, to observe it fall from the sky.

The two of you stand and move toward the door. He reaches for the door handle to rush out but you stop him. He looks at you, confused and cocking his head to the side. First you offer to go outside and now you're telling him no.

“Wait, you need to bundle up first. I don't want you to catch a cold.” You grab a knit beanie and slip it over his pigtails, making the hat bulge awkwardly from the amount of hair stuffed underneath. Then wrapping a red scarf around his neck and face, making sure it stays snug against his cheeks. You repeat the same process for yourself before allowing him to exit the house.

Once outside, he stares up at the sky. Snow collects on his dark lashes as he watches it fall from the source. Struck by fascination. He doesn't speak a word, just watches the powder fall to earth, and you can't help but watch him in return. The way he gazes up with child-like wonder.

A light bulb flashes in your head. You walk across the yard, Choso not even noticing your disappearance. Reaching down, you scoop up a handful of snow. An icy chill spreading through your bare fingers. Smashing it together to form a tight ball and tossing it directly into his side. He flinches and turns at you, an almost startled look on his face.

“What the heck was that for?” he tilts his head to the side, almost looking offended by your attack.

“Time for a snowball fight!” you declare as you reach down and grab another handful, packing the ball and launching at his stomach. He lets out a small huff before bending down to mimic your actions, tossing it back. Of course, his aim is perfect. Not once failing to miss his target, you. No matter how much you try and dodge, they all land. While you throw them with all your might, Choso tosses them gently. Like he's afraid one wrong throw would break you. Treating you like you're more fragile than a glass sculpture.

“Ok truce, truce!” you throw your freezing hands up, he drops the snowball he had been preparing in his hands. You jog back to his side, seeing his bangs poke out from under the beanie, caked in the falling snow. Reaching up, your fingers brush against the brown strands, shaking it free of the white powder clinging to it. The scarf loosened, revealing his smiling face, his nose and cheeks tinted a bright red from the winter wind.

“Let's go inside my pretty boy.”

December 10th

You enter Jujutsu Tech in the morning, walking to the break room and making a pot of coffee for you and the other staff members. Once it is brewed you pour yourself a mug and walk down the hall toward the classrooms. You notice Yuji as he enters the building, alone. Him and Choso always arrive together. Seeing him walk in alone is just odd.

“Yuji? Where is your brother?” You ask, sipping from the mug, trying to distract yourself from the concern brewing in your stomach.

“Um…Choso caught a cold.” He says sheepishly. Your instincts were right to worry. Of course he did, and of course he wouldn't tell you. He has a bad habit of hiding his issues from you so you won't worry. He hates to see you worry, especially if it’s about him. Probably even begged his younger brother not to tell you, but Yuji knew better than to keep secrets from you.

“Thanks for telling me” You say softly to Yuji, smiling as you pat his shoulder.

You decide to just work another half day today, dismissing the students early. They have been working hard these last few months, and with Christmas break fast approaching you decided to take it easy on them. They deserved some rest time too. Gathering your things, you leave quickly and make your way to Choso’s place.

You stopped at a convenience store on the way, making sure to pick up some cold fighting essentials. You can’t help but feel partially at fault. Just two days ago you were both outside playing in the snow. While you made sure to layer him in winter clothing beforehand, you may have stayed out a little too long.

You unlace your boots and shed your winter layers when you enter the front door, tossing them onto the bench in the entryway. An earth shattering sneeze coming from the bedroom makes you jump out of your skin, the noise leading to Choso’s bedroom. Walking down the hall to his room, plastic bed crinkling in hand with each movement.

Peering into his room, you see him lying in his bed, bed sheets pulled up to his chin. Noticing your footsteps, he turns on his side to look at you. The poor boy is in a rough state. His hair messy as it lays spread over his pillow and his cheeks slightly flushed. His nose is red and angry, raw from the tissues. A big, dramatic pout on his lips when his eyes fall on your form.

“You got sick?” You ask as you walk forward and sit on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on his back through the blankets. He nods, almost disappointed looking.

“Yuji said I have a cold.” His voice is so rough and raspy it makes you wince. “What if I'm not better in time for Christmas?” he looks up at you, wide eyed and slightly panicked.

“It’s common this time of year Cho, the cold changing weather seems to bring it on for a lot of people.” You speak softly as you continue to rub his back through the blanket. “Don’t worry, it should only last a few days.”

“You shouldn’t be here, you could get sick too,” he frowns. While that is true, you don’t care right now. Not when your poor boyfriend looks as miserable as he does, fighting the first cold of his lifetime. Catching his sickness was a risk you were willing to take.

“I’m here to make you feel better.” You whisper, pressing your lips to his forehead in a feather-light kiss. No fever, that’s good. He opens his mouth to protest again but breaks off in a fit of painful coughs. Your hands firmly rubbing his back as he works through it. Once he stops, he looks at you with glassy eyes. A look of defeat and acceptance as he shifts over in his bed to make room next to him.

“Here, sit up” You ask, and he complies. Adjusting so his back is against the headboard. You rustle around in the bag and pull out some medicine and a cold bottle of water. When you place the pills in his hand, he looks at you with unease. This is all a new and unpleasant experience for him.

“Trust me, it will help.” You murmur, holding out the water bottle for him.

“I do trust you” He rasps, popping the pills in his mouth and washing them down with cool water, easing his throat.

“Try not to talk so much, you're just going to make your throat worse.” He responds with a nod.

After he eats a bowl of warm chicken noodle soup, the two of you lay down in bed as yet another animated Christmas movie plays on the screen. The fatigue must have finally caught up to him. His head resting against your shoulder as the rest of his body leans on you like dead weight. Congested snores leaving his open mouth.

As you look at him, it's hard to believe that a man so big and strong can look so small and vulnerable at this moment. You lay him down to settle comfortably on his bed, tucking him in nice and tight.

“My poor big baby” you whisper to no one but yourself as your fingers brush a strand of hair out of his face. For a slight moment, you catch his lips twitch into a quick smile, reacting to your touch even in his sleep.

December 14th

Thanks to your care, Choso is back to normal in no time, and luckily you also dodged the bullet of catching his cold. He joins you back at work by the end of the week, sitting in the breakroom together on lunch break. A few of the other teachers and staff are also eating with you.

“I just feel bad.” Shoko’s voice catches your attention. You notice her shoving a tomato in her salad bowl around with her fork.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“A lot of the students here won’t be able to go home for the holidays, and some just don't have family to return to if they wanted.” She lets out a long sigh.

“It’s not just the students.” Satoru continues. “I know neither of you are going home, and I’m staying right here too.” His fingers drum on the table in thought.

“It’s rough. I really miss my family, Christmas was such a big thing for us” You pout, setting your sandwich down. Suddenly you don’t feel hungry anymore, the homesickness striking your stomach. While you were thankful you get to spend the holiday with your boyfriend, you still yearn for the comfort of home. You can feel Choso’s gaze on you without even looking at him.

“Who says we can’t celebrate Christmas with friends?” Choso asks quietly, chewing his food. Everyone turns to look at him. Noticing he has everyone’s attention, he freezes. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks quickly with pink tinted cheeks. Looking from Satoru, Shoko then finally to you.

“No! That's a great idea Cho!” You exclaim, throwing your arms around him in a hug.

“Yeah, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Let's throw a party! And do something nice for the students too!” Satoru jumps up from his seat and yells.

“Great idea, we are practically all family here anyway” Shoko gives a small smile.

“I'll host it at my house!” You offer, excited to have everyone over and celebrating with you. This will fill the void of missing home.

At the end of the day, all the staff and students who are staying home this holiday gather in one room. You and Satoru seem to have the most excitement out of anyone here, explaining the plans quickly and watching the smiles grow on the student’s faces.

“And no presents, just show up and have a good time with everyone” You tell them, not wanting the students to have to spend a dime. You and the rest of the staff will have everything covered, you just want everyone to enjoy each other's company. The way the holidays should be spent.

And you will do everything in your power to make sure they have the perfect Christmas.

“But what if we did secret santa?” Nobara questions, hand on her hip as she looks directly at you. Yuji stands next to her shaking his head vigorously in agreement.

“Great idea!” Satoru chimes in before you have a chance to respond. You have to admit it’s not a bad idea. As long as everyone keeps it simple and no one goes overboard, it should be fine.

“Sure, we can do secret santa. But no other gifts! And keep it under 25 dollars” you explain as Shoko passes around a slip of paper for everyone to write their name on and a few ideas of things they want.

“Um…what’s secret santa?” Choso whispers in your ear so only you can hear, likely embarrassed by yet another holiday activity he doesn’t understand.

“It’s kinda like a gift giving game” you start to explain, writing your name on the paper. “You will randomly get assigned a person to bring a gift for, but you have to keep it a surprise. Don’t let them know it’s you though.” He nods his head then starts to scribble his name on this slip of paper. Satoru then collects everyone’s and puts them inside a cowboy hat (why he had that in his office, no one knows). He walks around and holds the hat out for everyone to draw a name.

You reach inside, feeling around and plucking out a paper between two fingers. Opening it, you see the neat letters spelling out NOBARA inside. Along with a lengthy list of items she wants.

Choso reaches in next, dark brows drawn together as he focuses. It’s almost as if picking out the paper slip was more important than any mission he’s ever been sent on. Finally, he picks one. Pulling it out and slowly unfolding the note. You watch as he reads the name, a wide toothy grin spreads across his face.

Wonder who he pulled?

December 16th

With Christmas barely over a week away you have been spending much of your free time preparing your home. Dusting every nook and cranny, polishing the windows until they were shinier than the north star. It was a bit excessive, but it was the first time you would have everyone from the school in your house all at once. You needed it to be perfect.

All that's left to do is decorate. Red and green totes sit in the living room unopened. All filled with Christmas decorations your parent’s sent with you when you moved. You haven't even peeked inside, no clue what sort of things they may have given you. You were waiting on Choso and Yuji to come back, that way the three of you could decorate together.

You forgot that this is also Yuji’s first Christmas with his big brother, you needed to share. The two of them need time to create their own special memories. Which is why today, you sent the pair on a mission. A mission to find and bring home the perfect tree from the Christmas tree farm. Even though Choso still thinks it's a bit ridiculous to bring nature inside.

While today wasn't particularly snowy, it was still chilly. Hopefully they won’t come back as two human popsicles. You stand at the stove stirring a pot of chocolate and milk, watching the ingredients swirl together. Preparing a sweet surprise to warm them up when they return. You also prepared the fireplace for them to thaw their frozen fingers.

As you finish the hot chocolate and pour it into three mugs, the front door opens. The brothers carry the tree in together, then lean it against the wall so they can take their boots and coats off. As Choso peels off his layers, he reveals the purple knitted sweater underneath. The one your mom sent as an early present for him, a little too small as it clings to his sculpted muscles. It makes you smile to see him wearing the handmade gift.

“Hot chocolate!?” Yuji exclaims as he runs over to you, your hands extended out with a mug for each of them. You nod, and Yuji takes it. Eagerly taking the first sip and letting out a relieved sigh. Choso walks up to you, taking the mug from your hands and wrapping his fingers around it.

“Thank you” he whispers, pressing his icy nose to your cheek to nuzzle against your warm skin. Even with his still frozen body, you can feel the warmth of his happy smile radiate on you. He takes the first sip, a low hum as he savors the taste. “Mmmm…this is really good”

Once the boys were thoroughly warmed up, it was time to begin decorating. They set the tree up in the corner, a beautiful blue spruce. Its large triangle shape fits perfectly in the spot you picked out for it.

“What do you think?” Yuji asks you, taking a step back as he admires their tree. Choso still adjusting it so it stands the way he invisions.

“It's perfect, the best Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.” You smile at the pink-haired boy.

“Choso picked it out. He saw this one and said ‘it’’s the one’” Yuji imitates his brother’s deep voice as he copies his words. Choso overhears and quickly looks away, pretending to still be busy with situating the already perfect looking tree. The tips of his ears turning pink.

You leave the boys to decorate the tree, letting them rummage through the boxes of Christmas ornaments and fumble with the tangled string of lights. The two of them smile and laugh amongst themselves as they work. An occasional cuss as they poke their finger on a needle.

A Christmas playlist emanating from the speakers. You sing along as you put up the other decorations. Hanging up garland and strings of dried oranges in the hallways, lights in the window and wreaths on the door. Three stockings hung up on the fireplace, your name along with Choso and Yuji’s printed on the front. Even though you three agreed to no presents, that wouldn’t stop you from filling their stockings to the brim. You already planned to spoil them with their favorite snacks and other things they enjoy.

A surprised gasp from Choso catches your attention, you rush over to him and see him cradling a small ornament in his hands. Looking down at it with a big smile.

“What is it?” You ask, trying to catch a glimpse of what he's holding so delicately, but he moves, holding the ornament out of view as he continues to stare with a big goofy grin.

“Babe…” He trails off, his eyes looking from the ornament then to you. “Is this you?” He finally turns it around to show you. A printed baby picture of you inside a snowman shaped frame, you weren't even a year old yet. Red letters at the bottom have your birth year and ‘First Christmas’ written on it.

“That is so embarrassing” you mumble, honestly you thought your parents would have kept that for their own tree instead of sending it with you. “You don’t have to put it on the tree.” You try to swipe it out of his hand but he holds it up higher.

“Nu uh. This is so cute. It’s definitely going on.” He steps away from your reaching arms and hangs it up high, admiring your baby face with a smile.

Once all the ornaments are hung, you plug in the lights strung around it. The three of you standing back to admire it. Twinkling brightly in the corner of the room. Choso stands in the middle, wrapping an arm around you and Yuji. His two favorite people in the world.

“It’s beautiful” You smile as you gaze on the most perfect Christmas tree you ever set eyes on, the star shining brightly at the top.

“Yeah” Is all Choso manages to say, though his eyes are on you instead of the tree.

After a moment of silence, Yuji speaks up.

“Let's take a picture together!”

December 24th

Christmas eve is here and everything for the party is ready for tomorrow. You felt like a little kid who couldn't wait until morning to see what Santa brought. To make things more exciting, Choso decided to stay the night tonight. He said Christmas morning wouldn’t feel right if he didn't wake up with his family.

Yuji had also planned to stay the night, but decided at the last minute to have a sleepover with Megumi and the other students instead. You could tell Choso wanted to tell him no, but let him anyway. He can never deny his brother anything. Plus, Yuji promised to be here first thing in the morning.

You and the other staff decided to each make a dish for the party, you and Choso getting assigned dessert duty. Tonight, the two of you planned to bake gingerbread cookies together. All the ingredients are laid out on the counter as you reach for two aprons. You tie one around yourself first, then grab the other and turn to Choso who is standing in the kitchen watching you with a way too serious look. You throw the loop around his head then move behind him, reaching your hands around his waist to tie the strings in a neat little bow.

“I look ridiculous” he grumbles, his fingers tugging at the slightly frilly ends.

“No, you look cute” You wrap your arms around him in a hug, chest pressed against his back.

“Are you sure this is necessary?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at you with uncertinty.

“Yup. Don’t want your clothes to get dirty.” The clothes could easily be washed after, you know this. But seeing Choso in the pink and frilly apron just makes your heart flutter.

“Whatever.” He sighs, leaning into your hug and relaxing a bit.

The two of you work away at making the cookies. Holding a hand mixer, you mix the molasses into the batter. The thick and sticky substance dancing around the bow with the other ingredients.

“Next we need the flour mixture, can you add that, Cho?” With the mixer still in hand, you angle your head toward the glass bowl containing the flour and mixed in spices. He nods and reaches for it, tilting the bowl to pour it into the one you're stirring. A little too fast it seems as a puff of powdery smoke hits you right in the face.

“Too fast Choso!” you cough out the flour as you slow the mixer to a stop. He laughs and grabs your chin gently with his fingers, turning you to look at him. The thumb on his other hand wipes away the flour clinging to your face.

“Sorry” He struggles to stop his laughter as he cleans your face off.

Once the dough is complete, Choso uses the rolling pin to flatten it. His forearm muscles flexing as he rolls it out. The two of you cut out the gingerbread and place them on a cookie sheet, into the oven they go. The fragrant smell of cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg wafting through the air as they bake.

In the meantime, you prepare the icing. Whisking together milk and powdered sugar to create frosting thick enough to pipe. You set the whisk into the sink, only turning your back for a moment but when you look back you caught Choso red handed. His finger in the bowl as he scoops out a glob, then quickly pops the finger in his mouth to taste the sweet icing. He doesn't realize you were watching and his finger darts back in for a second taste.

“Hey!” you smack his hand before it makes contact for the frosting. His face turns red as he gives you a sheepish smile, caught in the act. “Save some for the cookies Cho!” you laugh.

With the cookies now cool, the two of you begin to decorate. Piping eyes and cute little smiles on their gingerbread faces. Adding hearts as buttons. You had to admit, they were looking so cute. Looking over at Choso, who has remained quiet for some time, you notice the intense concentration on his face as he decorates. His eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as his hand delicately squeezed the piping bag. You want to ask what he's creating but you are afraid of breaking his focus and messing him up.

“Look” he finally says, turning the cookie around to reveal his masterpiece. It was a cookie version of Yuji! An almost perfect replica. Complete with his spiky hair and school uniform. Even a crack in the cookie to replicate the scar over his eyebrow.

“Wow! That's so amazing, I had no clue you were an artist Choso.” You exclaim with a smile.

“Thanks” he says shyly, setting cookie Yuji with the rest of your completed cookies. He picks up the next one, his focus returning as he creates more. Probably wanting to make Megumi and Nobara too.

You grab another blank cookie, an idea forming in your brain. Using the icing as glue, you stick together matching spikes crafted from cookie scraps on either side of the gingerbread man’s head. Choso is off in his own world, not even paying attention. Leaving you to work on your creation unquestioned. You carefully piped the icing, occasionally looking up to glance at your muse across the table. Once you finished, you turned it over to show him.

“Choso, look what I made” you say to get his attention, his eyes widen as they scan the details of the cookie. The line across the face, the twin pigtails.

“You made…me?” he says surprised, pointing at himself.

“Yes” You smile, and watch as he unveils his most recent creation to you. Your own cookie mini-me. Every detail was placed with care, and you have to admit, he did a great job replicating you.

Once all the cookies were decorated to the nines and the kitchen cleaned, the two of you started to unwind in bed, yet another Christmas movie playing on the TV. Changed into a pair of matching pajamas. Red fleece with a pattern of tiny snowflakes and snowmen. It was kinda cheesy, but you wanted Choso to experience the full Christmas morning experience. To your surprise, he absolutely loved the idea of wearing matching pjs with you.

Cozy and warm, Choso drifts to sleep under the mountain of blankets before reaching the halfway point of the movie. A peaceful expression on his face, leaving you to wonder if visions of sugar-plums danced in his head.

As quiet as a mouse, you crept out of bed. Grabbing the items hidden away in the closet and walking out to the living room. There by the fireplace, three stockings hung with care. You fill Yuji’s with his favorite snacks and a couple gift cards. Inside of Choso’s you place the same, but with the addition of one extra special wrapped gift.

You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he opens it tomorrow.

December 25th

“Wake up!” Choso’s excited voice jolts you awake, peeling open your sleepy eyelids. He has you caged under him, a giant smile plastered to his face and his bed hair falling messily around him. Like a child waking up their parents on Christmas morning. “Good morning sleepy head” He coos, bending his head down to pepper your cheek in kisses.

“Good morning Cho” you say groggily, stretching your arms out.

“You gotta get up! It’s Christmas!” He pokes your cheek a few times, like it’s a button that will make you move faster. As he looks down on you with his charming smile, you can’t help but smile back. His happiness is infectious. It’s hard to believe that 25 days ago, this man didn’t have a clue what Christmas was. Now look at him.

“Okay okay, get off me so I can get up” You laugh, he immediately steps off the bed and holds a hand out for you. You place your hand in his palm as he hoists you up and out, pulling you into his chest and wrapping you in a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas, love” he murmurs onto the top of your head..

“Merry Christmas” You echo, savouring the warmth of his hug.

“Come on! I have a surprise for you!” He breaks the hug and reaches for your hand, dragging you out of the bedroom. He pulls you past the illuminated tree and into the kitchen. The smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls fills the air. The smell transports you back to your childhood, your mother always would bake a batch of cinnamon rolls with orange glaze every Christmas morning. But that was something you never mentioned, Choso couldn't have possibly known that. Right?

He hands you a plate with a large cinnamon roll, your mouth watering. You don’t even wait to sit down for the first bite, fingers sticky with icing as you lift it to your lips. Teeth sinking into the still warm baked good. The sweet flavors coat your palette, and somehow they tasted exactly like your Mom’s famous treats. Her secret recipe that she refused to pass onto anyone, not even you.

“Choso…” you trail off, setting the cinnamon roll down on the plate and turning your gaze to his. He watches you full of pride and love. “How..” you start to ask, wanting to know how on earth he knew to make these, but he cuts you off.

“Come on” he says, one hand on your shoulder as he leads you over to the dining table. Your laptop propped open in front of two chairs. The second you can view the screen, you see them. Your parents.

“Merry Christmas honey!” they exclaim as you take a seat in front of them. A few tears spilling from your eye you didn't know were forming.

This was Choso’s big surprise. Ever so observant, he saw how much you were missing home and how much you wanted to see your family. He set the whole morning up, with help from your mom of course. He wanted you to be able to eat breakfast with your family just like you used to, no matter how far away they were.

His mom even taught him how to make her cinnamon rolls you loved so much, that way all of you could enjoy the same breakfast at the same time. Separated by a computer screen that felt barely there in the moment. It was like you teleported back home, eating with the family again.

After breakfast, it was Choso’s turn to get emotional.

The two of you sit on the floor in front of the Chtistmas tree, feeling like two little kids digging through your stockings. You were surprised to see he filled yours as well. Candy and your favorite collectable trinkets. He digs through his, making sure to mutter a ‘thank you’ for every little item he finds inside.

He pulls out the last item, the small wrapped box you placed inside last night. He holds it up, tossing a skeptical look your way.

“Thought we agreed to no presents?” he asks.

“I think it’s a bit too late for that.” you point to the contents from both of your stockings. He says nothing in response, knowing you're right. Neither of you ever had any intention of following the ‘no presents’ rule. “Just open it” you urge him.

His fingers slowly pull on the delicate ribbon until it falls away, then ripping away the wrapping paper. A small red box inside. He lifts off the lid and he stops. Momentarily stunned as he stares at the contents inside. Then, the waterworks start. Drops slipping from his eyes as he holds up the small ornament.

“Thank you! I love it.” he sniffles, wiping away the ever falling tears. You found the small snowman ornament online, one that was identical to yours and able to hold a picture inside. Inside the frame was a picture of you and Choso, standing in front of the freshly decorated tree. Your hand writing at the bottom saying ‘our first Christmas’ in red.

Your intention wasn't to make him cry, and you almost felt bad seeing him in this blubbering state. But your worries melt away as he pulls you in close, burying his face into the crook of your neck until the tears slow. He was always such a big softie, even though he pretends not to be.

“Thank you, this means so much to me” he whispers once he's calmed back down. Standing up to place his gift on the tree next to your matching first Christmas ornament.

Later that evening, the party is in full swing. Yuji and Nobara each with an arm linked around a grumpy Megumi, matching sweaters on the three of them. Maki and Yuta watch as Toge and Panda dance wildly to Rockin’ around the Christmas tree. Shoko scolds a tummy-aching Satoru for eating too many sweets after dinner.

Dinner was phenomenal, it was so fun to get everyone together in one place for a feast. A wide variety of food brought by the other staff, enough for everyone to get their fill and then some. You couldn’t believe how full you were, and judging by the look on your boyfriend’s face, he may have overindulged too. Even with the full bellies, everyone was excited to find the cookie versions of themself that Choso created.

Sitting in the living room, everyone starts to find their secret santa gifts. You watch as Nobara opens the one from you. Her eyes lighting up as she pulls out the tube of lipgloss. It’s from a brand she hasn't stopped talking about for the past four weeks. Yes, it may have been a tiny bit over the 25 dollar budget you set, but you wanted to splurge on your students. Nobara says a thousand thank yous as she applies it immediately, the color looking perfect on her.

You open your gift next, a large box with blue snowflake wrapping paper. Inside, it was filled to the brim with all sorts of candy. Many from luxury brands you have never heard of. While it wasn’t exactly what you wanted, you are still thankful. You are also excited to try the fancy chocolate bar with a name you can't pronounce. You know exactly who this is from, you spot the white haired sorcerer who is mouthing ‘you're welcome’ in your direction with a smirk.

Yuji opens his, pulling out a shirt with the letters spelling out ‘#1 LITTLE BROTHER’ across the front. Plastered on the back is a picture of him and Choso together, both making equally silly faces. Yuji breaks out in laughter as he holds the shirt up to show it off.

“Oh! I wonder who my secret santa could be!” He says sarcastically, smiling at his older brother.

It’s ironic really, as Choso pulls out his present. A red mug with the words ‘#1 BIG BROTHER’ across the side. Of course those two would get each other.

As the party starts to wind down, Choso stands up and waves a hand, beckoning you to follow him down the hall. You excuse yourself from the conversation with Shoko and trail after him. He stands in the middle of the hallway, the sounds of laughter getting fainter as you join him.

“I have one more gift for you” He whispers, pulling a small rectangle box behind his back. It’s beautifully wrapped, the paper resembling the bark from a birch tree. A neat green ribbon tying it together.

“You shouldn't have” You murmur, taking the gift from his hands. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Well…I wanted to.” He waits for you to open it. Part of you doesn’t want to disturb the expertly wrapped paper, the other part is dying to know what's inside. You tear it open, revealing a velvet black box. You hinge open the lid, inside is a pretty silver necklace. The charm at the end is a teardrop shaped gem, your birthstone.

“It’s so pretty” You say as you lift it out of the box, dangling the pendent in front of you. Your eyes catching on the way the gem dances in the light. “Put it on me?” you ask, holding it out for him. He takes it from you as you turn around, wrapping the chain around and gently securing the clasp, his breath hot on your neck. You turn back to face him, adjusting how the charm sits against your neck.

“How does it look?” You ask, he eyes you up and down.

“Beautiful, it looks amazing on you. I knew it would.” He smiles softly, taking a step closer, a hand placing itself on the small of your back. You suddenly feel a little guilty. The necklace seemed expensive, and you didn’t get him much in return. Just some treats and the Christmas ornament.

“Choso…I wish I would have gotten you something more in return.” you frown, but he just shakes his head.

“No, I don’t need fancy things. Besides, you already gave me the best present of all. You gave me the gift of Christmas. And I spent the whole day…no, the whole month, making precious memories with you. What more could I ask for?” His words touch your soul, burning hotter than the warmest summer day.

“Look up,” he says suddenly, pointing toward the ceiling with the hand not on your back. A small bundle of green leaves and white berries hang, tied together with a red bow. Mistletoe. You didn’t put this here when you were decorating, it must have been his doing.

“Did you do this?” you laugh looking into his eyes. He nods.

“When I was studying Christmas stuff...” he trails off sheepishly, his cheeks turning pink. “I read that this is a symbol of love. You know what people do under the mistletoe, right?” He asks, his eyes traveling to your lips as they curve in a smile.

“Yes, I know,” You say, wrapping your hands around his neck. One hand cradling the back of his head as you pull him closer. He keeps his hand pressed to your back while the other cups your cheek, his thumb stoking your soft skin as his lips close the distance. His lips moving against yours in a sweet and tender kiss. Pouring all of his burning love into the moment.

He pulls back, hooded eyes roaming your face. Hot breath as he whispers your name.

“I love you” He whispers against your lips before he goes in for another kiss. “I’ll always love you”

A/N: I hope all of you lovely readers have an amazing holiday!! :)

The linked pictures of the cookies were made by me. Feel free to follow my twitter!

If you enjoyed this fic, I have two ongoing JJK fanfics you may also like. Check out them out here.

dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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