#if the new bonus chapter proved anything it is this

[somewhere-in-the-rain]

I just know Xaden’s internal monologue was going crazy when Aaric referred to him as Violet’s boyfriend in Iron Flame.

All thoughts of getting the journals just gone from his head and replaced with 💕🥰❤️✨💖

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter VIII: Rumours 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Three months after your show in Oldtown, things seem different. How will you and Aemond navigate this new normality?

Warnings: 18+, self-destructive thoughts, mentions of rehab, therapy and anger management, allusions to smut

Word count: 4500

A/N: What a journey! Thank you so much to everyone that has followed this story, both for the first and second time.

Three months later. 

The tour went on for over two months, finishing with a sold-out show back home in King’s Landing. Thanks to management bringing in some highly skilled people to work on finalising the songs on Rumours, the event doubled as the release day of your second album. 

You sold twice as many records in the first three days as your first album did since its release last year.

Though you’re certain that some of the attention your album’s received is due to the dramatic end of your marriage to Aemond, you’re convinced that fans wouldn’t be buying it if they didn’t enjoy the music. The reviews from major music outlets were raving about the emotional depth throughout the album, another indicator that gossip wasn’t the only selling point of your heartbreaking labour. 

Now, with the holidays closing in, your label has asked you to create some type of extra material to put on a limited edition version of Rumours. 

The members of Dragon Dreamers agreed that adding a bonus track would be the best feature, and decided to meet in the studio to record it in one go; a straight-forward and quick procedure fitting your time restraint. 

You’ve been playing around with a few ideas for new songs, but nothing substantial that feels ready just yet. Lucky for you, Helaena posted in your group chat that she’s been working on a song you could use. 

You’d listened to the demo she shared and the song truly has great potential, being somewhat fast-paced with Helaenas dreamy vocals adding that mellow feel to it only she seems capable of. 

Reaching the studio, you step out of the taxi and thank the driver over your shoulder, pulling the thick, wool fabric of your coat tighter around your trembling body. 

It’s only the last week of November, but winter seems to have come early this year. You hurry to get into the building where the studio is, shaking fingers fidgeting with the key in your cold, inflexible hand, too stiff to obey you and get the thin piece of brass into the keyhole. 

“Allow me”, echoes a voice behind you, and the corners of your lips pull up at the familiar, gentle tone. 

“It’s fucking freezing”, you say light-heartedly and move away from the lock to make space for Aemond, who steps forward, key already in hand.

He unlocks the door swiftly, giving you a pointed look while pushing the heavy door open with one hand. It’s his idea of banter; meeting your eyes with that cheeky glint dancing in his eyes, amusement hiding in his lips where the faintest promise of a smile forms. 

“Thank you” 

You walk past him into the hallway leading to the studio and he follows behind you, mumbling a quiet, 

“Anytime”

After the show in Oldtown, your and Aemond’s relationship has improved immensely. Agreeing that whatever happens, the band comes first, proves to be a good way for the both of you to stay on track. 

Being on the road and performing several times a week is draining, stressful, and overall rough. But in the strain, it’s provided you with some peace of mind, forced to put all your focus on work instead of dwelling on the past.

On everything that’s happened between the two of you.

Besides, Aemond’s put in effort to be civil as well, even bordering on being friendly at times, asking you if you’d like anything from the coffee shop before he went to grab an espresso. A clear sign of trying that you appreciate, no matter how small. 

Besides, it’s not like he even needs to ask. He knows perfectly well what you like. 

But this feels better; feigning ignorance. 

Not still acting like a married couple. 

Perhaps his change was not entirely due to what occurred in Oldtown. Helaena had let it slip one day over lunch that he’d started seeing a therapist, while also attending an anger management program online. 

You’re happy for him, truly. 

It shows on his demeanour that he’s doing better; that he knows how to handle situations better. He seems more in tune with his inner self as well, more in control of it. You’re glad to see him improving, and yet there’s a small part of you that still mourns the broken bond between the two of you. 

That part feels resentful, annoyed with the fact that he couldn’t have done this before your divorce. 

Then you might still be together. 

Helaena’s singing voice grows louder as you move closer to the door of the studio, pushing it open with your stiff, cold hands. 

Jace and Erryk are already seated, listening intently to Helaena’s instructions as she explains how they’re going to record the song. You and Aemond slip in, eyes trained on her, and she offers you a nod in greeting, continuing to discuss her vision of the song,

“The build up has to be captivating! It speeds up towards the outro at the end, which is like the highlight of the song”, she says, hands coming up to put emphasis on her words, 

“That’s what you’d envisioned, right Aemond?”

Her head turns to meet the gaze of her younger brother, waiting for a sign of agreement. He only hums in reply and nods at her, prompting her to continue. 

Has Aemond written this song?

You think back to the demo Helaena sent of her singing and playing piano. 

Isn’t this a love song?

“Finally wrote a song for your girlfriend then?”, Erryk teases as he lowers himself to take a seat behind the drum set. 

A wave of nausea crashes over you without warning. You feel your heart race in your chest, like it’s fighting to get out, and a sickening panic spreads within you. Your hands, that’d just felt so cold and stiff, now feel clammy and tingling with unease. 

You knew this day would come. 

The day Aemond writes a song for Alys. 

You’d mentally prepared for it; convinced yourself that whenever this day came, you’d be okay. It wouldn’t hurt that much, you already know that he’s moved on. 

But Erryk’s question leaves you disoriented, almost dizzy, and you hear the furious beat of your heart in your ears.

Now you have to live with your decision to leave him all those months ago. Allow him to move on and watch him from the sidelines as his colleague. 

Sing along to the declaration of love he’s written for his new lover? 

“Hel and I have been working on this song since last spring”, he dismissively replies, throwing Erryk a look that feels cold, yet his tone stays neutral. 

Since last spring? 

You still feel the heavy weight of anxiety on your chest, but with a few deep breaths, you manage to pull yourself together. 

Just get through this afternoon, then you can go home and dwell in self-pity without spectators. 

The band starts to play, Helaena singing as her fingers dance over the keys of the piano, 

‘Sweet, wonderful you’

‘You make me happy with the things you do’

‘Oh, can it be so?’

‘This feeling follows me wherever I go’

Aside from the demo Helaena sent you a few days ago, you’ve never heard this song before. If Aemond’s been working on it since last spring, does that mean he’s kept it a secret from you?

Maybe he played a rough edit to you before your separation? 

Maybe he and Helaena had reworked it beyond recognition? 

‘I never did believe in miracles’

‘But I’ve a feeling it’s time to try’

‘I never did believe in the ways of magic’

‘But I’m beginning to wonder why’

He’s not usually the type to write love songs. His solo song on your first album, titled ‘I’m so Afraid’, can be described as anything but romantic. 

‘Don’t break the spell’

‘It would be different and you know it will’

But this? Is it the love he receives from Alys that has prompted him to write such an exposing song; causing him to believe in miracles and magic? 

Does she make him feel safe? 

Safer than before? 

‘You make loving fun’

‘And I don’t have to tell you but you’re the only one’

You try to keep your voice stable as you sing along, backing up Helaena’s delicate tone. 

It hurts, hearing how much he doesn’t miss you; how happy he is with her. 

The one that makes loving fun. 

When you were married, all you seemed capable of was making him miserable. 

Loving you wasn’t fun. 

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

Some hours go by.

You record a few different versions of the song; playing around with various sounds. 

Every time you sing the words, they stab your heart like a knife, 

‘You make loving fun’

You try to act normal. You try so hard that you can taste copper on your tongue. Thankfully, no one seems to see through your facade. 

Just breathe. 

In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds. 

You know that it won’t hurt this much forever. 

One day, you’ll wake up and your lungs won’t ache when you inhale deeply. Your eyes won’t burn from the force in which you're trying to prevent tears from falling. 

Time heals all wounds. 

But yours are still fresh. Leaking and aching. 

All you want to do is go home, throw yourself in bed and cry. 

You crave release, whether it comes from sorrow-induced dehydration, calling Alysanne just to yell out your frustrations, or screaming into a pillow.

When Helaena finally wraps up the recording session, asking you to come back tomorrow after she’s listened through a few of the takes, you hastily grab your bag and move towards the door. 

Just need to get out. 

Away. 

You call out a rushed farewell over your shoulder as you make your way down the corridor of the building, hand coming up to the door handle to step out into the cold November night. 

You brace yourself, ready for the chill air to hit your cheeks as you pull the door open. But before you’re able to leave, a large hand gently grabs your shoulder, keeping you in place, 

“Wait”

Aemond’s voice is low behind you. 

You inhale a deep, shaky breath before you turn around to face him. 

“Yes, Aemond?”

Your voice is purposefully flat, and you’re doing your absolute best to not let the hurt you feel reflect on your tone. 

“I wanted to talk to you”, he begins, tongue coming out to lick his lips. He’s apprehensive in a way that makes his voice sound foreign, like he’s not himself. 

“Did you like it? The song?”

Your gaze flickers down at his question, a reflex-like response so you don’t roll your eyes at him. He sure makes it difficult to be the bigger person. 

Set on tormenting you. 

“Yes”

You bite out the reply, laced with innate irritation you can’t conceal. 

Yes, it’s a good song, you can’t deny that. But seeking you out to have you admit that the song he wrote for his new partner is good Is a new low. 

And to think you thought he’d finally changed for the better. 

Aemond’s good eye roams your face, seemingly searching for something. An answer hidden in your features. 

He licks his lips again, as if he’s looking for what to say, 

“You do, you know”

His eye still flickering around without meeting yours, and his restless demeanour makes you nervous too. 

“I do what?”, you ask, irritation now clear in your curt tone. 

“Make loving fun”, he answers. 

The shock of his sudden confession renders you speechless, and Aemond takes the opportunity to pull you out of the building and into the dark night. 

The heavy door to the studio closes with a loud thud, and left are you and Aemond, alone in the freezing, dark November night. 

“I wanted to surprise you with the song on our wedding anniversary in June, but obviously..”, his voice dies out. 

Still lost for words, you’re sure you look ridiculous, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

Aemond carefully takes in your reaction and takes a deep breath himself, 

“I’ve thought about our relationship recently. A lot”, he says, eyes flickering down to your trembling hands.

Are they shaking from the cold? 

He takes your hands in his warm grip, encapsulating their entirety, 

“I didn’t treat you right-”

“I, I just-, I loved you so fucking much, I-, I didn’t know how to handle loving you so fiercely. I still do”

He has that sad look in his eye that you’ve grown familiar with; the sorrow that he’s made a habit of keeping from you. 

Now, it’s on full display as he offers you himself again, 

“Please take me back”, he quietly begs, body moving forward, face coming down so he can rest his cheek on your head, hands still holding yours tightly. 

You feel lost for words, stiffly staying in place as you hear Aemond inhale deeply through his nose buried in your hair. 

“Aemond”, you sigh, tone thick and unsteady, 

“I thought we’d agreed to move forward as bandmates”

“I’ve missed you so much”, he mumbles in reply, unmoving as he rests his head on yours. 

“You’re with Alys now”, you breathe out, disbelief making it hard for you to sort out your thoughts.

“I haven’t seen her since Winterfell”, he replies.

“Aem-”, you try to oppose but he cuts you off,

“I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. I’m sorry for being selfish”, he confesses quietly, whispering his sins into your hair. 

Aemond moves to let go of your hands, and instead brings his arms around your shoulders to hug you. 

His voice is still low, mouth right next to your ear, 

“I took your love for granted. I couldn’t imagine a world where we weren’t together”, he admits and presses your body against his, 

“And now I regret how I treated you every day. I know my actions are inexcusable, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need-”, his voice breaks, 

“I need you”

Being in his embrace, so full of the love you’ve been missing for months, causes your lids to feel heavy, and you close your eyes and rest your cheek against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. 

He still smells the same. 

The most comforting, warming scent in the world. 

It would be so easy to take him back.

It is so tempting. 

You gently pull away to look up at him, eyes locking with his, 

“Aemond, you know you weren’t happy being with me” 

“I’m going to therapy, I’m trying to be better”, he says quietly. His eyes are glassy when he adds, 

“For you”

You swallow the lump lodged in your throat. 

“That’s great, Aemond, and I’m so proud of you”, 

“But I don’t think getting back together would be good for either of us”, you conclude, gaze carefully gauging his expression, anxiously awaiting his reaction. 

The inevitable fire. 

His eyes narrow, face setting in harsh displeasure. 

You notice the corners of his mouth twitch downwards as he stares at you in silence, nostrils flaring with each breath. 

His warmth disappears as he steps away from you. 

He quickly shifts to the side to avoid your eyes, and leaves without another word.

You do all three things when you get home. 

You cry, you scream into a pillow, and you call Alysanne to yell out your frustrations. 

Nothing helps.

Why did he have to do this now? 

Why couldn’t he have done this when you were still together? 

The wound of your marriage opens up again, sending icy waves of pain through your body. 

This was supposed to be the part when things got better; when time had healed the wounds.

And yet, you’re still hurting just as much. 

A gash that refuses to stop bleeding. 

In the depths of your despair, you see your phone light up with a notification through the veil of tears obstructing your vision. 

You bring one of your hands up to half-heartedly wipe away the tears that spill out as the other grabs the phone to see who’s texted. 

Aemond: “I’m sorry for earlier tonight. If you want to remain friends, I would appreciate that”

For the second time tonight, his unpredictability astonishes you. 

Where’s the anger? 

You’re unmoving, hand holding your phone in a cramp-like grip as it lights up again. 

Aemond: “It’ll be entirely on your conditions”

You inhale, closing your eyes as you ponder your reply. 

Exhaling slowly, you open your eyes again to type out your answer.

You: “Okay”

Like most things, though it seemed absurd in the beginning, being friends with Aemond has become a normality. 

It started slowly, not going further than the two of you chatting during band practice. 

Then, you started going out to grab coffee together, airly discussing the band, upcoming shows, and what music you’d been listening to recently. 

As weeks pass by, your newfound familiarity blooms into a friendship. 

You start taking more liberties around each other, without constantly being on edge. 

Things like Aemond asks you if you’d like to go see a film by an up-and-coming director, you asking him if he’d like to grab food on the way home from the studio together. 

Your marriage, as tumultuous and heartbreaking as it had been, seems a distant memory now. The ashes from what once was have provided soil for the two of you to build a new, healthy friendship on. You feel thankful for that.

Thankful to still have Aemond in your life.

Being friends suits him. 

He’s opened up far more in these past few weeks to you than he had during the entirety of your futile relationship. 

He acredits it to the therapy and anger management he’d done, but you sense a real shift within him. 

He tells you about Alys; how he met her and how they developed a kind of friends with benefits dynamic as he longed for intimacy and she became his manager. 

Though you can vividly remember him calling her his ‘girlfriend’, he apparently hadn’t made that clear with her, and when he asked her to come on tour with him, a childish attempt at making you jealous, you presume, she’d patted him on the cheek and explained that though he’d been a fun fuck, she didn’t have time for a partner. 

He says that in retrospect, her not having any romantic feelings for him must’ve been a blessing, since he was only using her for selfish fulfilment himself. 

He tells you about Aegon; how they hadn’t spoken all summer, until Aemond reached out to properly apologise, a crucial part of the anger management program. 

Aegon, inspired by Aemond’s dedication to sort out his inner demons, had decided on a fourth trip to rehab. By now, he’s stayed sober for longer than ever before.

Aemond says that he’s made a habit of bringing his brother out hiking, trekking the vast landscape of the Reach. 

Sometimes during those long walks, they’d talk over each other, engaging in passionate discussion about everything and anything. Other times, they walk in comfortable silence, simply existing together. 

It’s nice seeing your ex husband so content. 

The bitterness you first felt at his dilatory introspection has been replaced by admiration; impressed by his dedication to be better. 

Somewhere inside, the wound of the past bleeds less and less. 

Perhaps this is how you were always meant to be? 

Friends. 

The realisation is bitter, but you’ve grown used to the taste on your tongue. 

You made the right decision. 

It’s almost midwinter when Aemond asks you to come over to your old flat one Sunday morning. 

Apparently he’s in the process of subletting the place, and needs help removing any personal belongings. 

It’s strange being back, already foreign and distant, yet still so familiar. 

“I’ve put some of your stuff in the guest bedroom”

Aemond gestures for you to follow him as you step inside. 

Like you don’t know where it is.

You follow him, watching as he opens the wardrobe, stepping to the side to invite you in. 

True to his perfectionist nature, your things are neatly organised, hanging in tidy rows. 

Some of your clothes, two coats, a vase you’d gotten from Alicent on your birthday, a jewellery box. Mostly gifts you received from Aemond, too painful for you to bring with you when you left all those months ago.

Maybe now you’re finally ready to look at the relics of your broken marriage with fondness, reminiscent of the love you once shared. 

As you inspect the wardrobe, you notice an old box tucked in one corner, edges worn down and structure almost caving in. 

You pick it up and open the lid, surprised to find the picture collage you’d made for him on your six month anniversary inside, along with a few other memorabilia from your relationship.

Two tickets to the cinema, a pub receipt, an ugly doodle of Aemond you drew as a joke. 

“What’s this?”, you ask as your hands rummage through the content of the box.

Aemond looks up from the moving box he’d been hunched in front of, eyes going wide when he sees what’s in your hand. 

“You can just put that back”, he quickly replies, face growing a bit pink. 

“I can just move this to the trash as well”, you say and shift towards the big, black bin bag in the corner. 

“That’s alright. I-, I want to keep it”, he mumbles quietly and stands up, towering over you as he takes the box from your hands. 

Your eyes dart from the frame with the pictures you’d made for him to his face, not quite sure why he wants to keep such trivial things. 

“I want to keep the memories” 

He puts the lid back on the box, bends down to place it on the floor, and pushes it towards the back of the closet using his foot. 

There’s something in the air that causes the mood to shift. It’s like a thick fog has settled over the room, sticking in your lungs whenever you breathe. 

“The good old days”, you joke stiffly, trying to chase the uncomfortable tension away. 

Aemond’s standing with his back against you, facing the closet. He hums in reply at your attempted humour. 

“Everything was so easy back then”, you sigh, moving to grab one of the coats hanging next to where he stands. 

He’s stiff as he turns to you, watching as you carefully examine the coat, pondering whether you should keep it or not. 

“I-”, Aemond starts before he stops himself, appearing to be lost in thought,

“I’d try every day to make it easy for you. To love me, I mean” 

Your head snaps to the side. His confession hits you with such force, it’s almost physical, and now it’s your turn to be lost for words. 

“Oh, Aemond”, you choke out as you take in the sad frown his face is set in,

“It was never hard loving you. It was hard being loved by you”

“I know”

One of his hands moves carefully towards you. When you don’t back away from him, he takes the opportunity to place it on your cheek. 

You can feel the way his hand trembles against your skin despite how gentle his touch is.  

“I can’t promise that it’ll always be easy. But I still love you as much as I did back then. I know I shouldn’t but I need to-” he licks his lips as he’s searching for the right words, 

“I need to ask you again. Will you take me back?”

His stare is intense as he carefully evaluates your reaction. You still can’t find your voice, stuck in your throat in shock. 

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I don’t want anyone-, anything else. I’ll do anything for you. Please take me back”, he begs, voice cracking at the end of his plea. 

The hand he’s placed on your cheek feels like it’s burning an imprint onto your skin. 

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

So open; heart on display, laid out in the hand he’s now offering you.

It’s all yours. 

He hurt you so much during your time together. 

He made life so hard for you. 

He made you feel alive. 

Would it be worth it; possibly being hurt again?

Feeling alive again. 

You bring your hand up to his cheek, mirroring how he’s cradling your face. 

Alive. 

Aemond’s POV

When she tilts her head up, leans forward and pulls his face closer to hers, he almost lets out a relieved cry. 

Kissing her again feels like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. 

It’s so relieving it hurts. 

Even when he has to leave her lips to breathe, he presses his face against hers, desperate for the contact. 

He can’t be apart from her warmth for even a second longer. 

Her arms meet around his neck, keeping him close as her breath heats up the skin of his face. 

He’s robbed himself of this for months. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forgive himself for that. for allowing her to slip away. 

He searches for her mouth again, kissing her as if she could breathe life into his lungs and revive his numb heart. 

His hands can’t decide if they want to touch every part of her being, or hold her so close they melt into one. 

She presses herself against him, kissing him back with just as much vigour. 

The thought that she’s missed him makes him want to weep. 

“I love you”, he says between pants as he moves his lips from hers, trailing down to kiss her neck. 

Her hands grab the back of his shirt and she lets out a moan when his lips find the patch right beneath her ear she loves so much. 

She pulls him downwards, onto the floor, and offers him a giggle as she straddles him. 

Her fingers come down to help him unbutton his trousers, just as eager for him as he is for her. 

He feels tears burn behind his eyelids again. 

Finally. 

He can hardly contain himself as his fingers clumsily search for the buttons of his jeans to aid her in getting them off. He is so impatient, so eager for her, that his hands shake from desire. 

His soul is finally soothed when she sinks down on him. 

He’s consumed by her. 

When she begins to move, the grip of her cunt around him indicates that this won’t last long. But that’s alright. It won’t be the last time. 

He surges forward to kiss her again, to let her know how grateful he is. 

That she came back to him. 

That she’s offered him her warmth once again. 

Fin.

A/N: Thank you for reading! ❤️

A very special thank you(!) to Justine @theoneeyedprince who've helped me by beta-ing this fic. You are truly a gem, so wonderfully supportive of me and I appreciate you so, so very much. Besides being an absolute legend of a friend, Justine's also an immensely talented writer. If you're eager to read more modern heartbreak, check out her story Careless Whisper - it's so good! ❤️

[daisynik7]

Epilogue

Pairing: Aoi Todo x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.7k

cw: switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Todo is in 3rd), established relationship, explicit language, smut – phone sex, PIV sex (cowgirl, doggy), nipple play, clitoral stimulation, lots of dirty talk, degrading language (use of the word slut), pet names (babe, baby, baby girl, good girl, princess, sweetheart)

Summary: All of what happens in four months of dating your new boyfriend slash past rival Aoi Todo, leading up to Takada-Chan’s “Winter Wonderland”.

Author’s Notes: Things get explicit here! This is just a fun little bonus chapter to see our two idol fans going at it (literally). Hope you enjoy! Thank you everyone for all the love and support on this, I really appreciate it! Divider credit to @/saradika. 

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Tag List: @iwillbiteabitch

Dating Aoi Todo is never boring. If you’ve learned anything from this relationship so far, it’s that. 

Also, taking things slow has proved to be much more difficult than you and Todo ever anticipated, especially when the two of you are alone together. That commitment is broken about a week into your budding relationship.  

The night of the confession, you and your new boyfriend talked for hours while Sara slept on your couch as a watchdog. You didn’t dare try anything with your best friend right outside just a few feet away. To prevent temptation, you set up an air mattress for him as the night progressed, agreeing to sleep separately. The only physical contact you made was when you both feel asleep in your respective beds, holding hands. Cute, innocent, and wholesome.  

After that night, you and Todo started texting every day. He is a man who loves sending good morning texts, along with an array of different emojis. His favorites are the smirking face (of course), the muscle flex (another of course), and surprisingly, the koala bear, which always leaves you with a goofy smile on your face whenever you see it.

Four days after the confession, there is a late-night phone call that lasts over three hours, covering different topics from favorite foods (his is skirt steak, yours is salmon nigiri), ideal date ideas (both of you said a Takada-Chan concert), and pet peeves (he said boredom, you said passive aggressiveness). 

This call also may or may not have ended with phone sex. 

You and Todo just finished discussing your favorite movies when he asks, “Aren’t you sleepy? It’s past one already.”

“I drank a lot of matcha today, so I’m still wide awake,” you explain, shifting around beneath your blanket.

There is silence on the other line and after a while, he finally says, “I can help you fall asleep. So, what are you wearing?”

You snort into the phone, laughing at his less-than-subtle attempt. “You can’t be serious right now.”

“Come on! Just play along!” He clears his throat and in a significantly lower octave, he repeats, “So…what are you wearing?”

You do your best to hide your giggles. “A t-shirt and pajama shorts.”

Even his smirk is audible through the phone. “Sexy.”

Cheeks getting sore from smiling , you comment, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re not very good at this?”

“I’m good at it! Come on babe, you’re ruining the mood. Just…let me get in the groove.”

Growing impatient from his feeble attempts, you take matters into your own hands. “Why don’t you think about me in that mini skirt you like so much. The one from Takada-Chan’s birthday. I know how much you like that.”

“Okay,” he replies quietly, some movement evident on his end.

“You’re supposed to show me how rough you like it, remember?”

“Yeah,” he blurts out, starting to breathe heavily. “Can we do that one time? Please?” 

Hearing him beg arouses you, hand reaching between your legs, spreading them wider beneath the covers. Feeling too brazen at this point, you purr, “Only if you can make me come right now.”

He whispers your name under his breath, followed by a husky, “Fuck. Tell me what you want to hear.” There’s movement against cloth and you can only imagine now that he’s touching himself, palming the bulge straining inside his briefs. 

You shove your panties down your legs, rubbing circles around your clit. “Tell me how you want to fuck me in that skirt.” You’re already wet with arousal, though you don’t tell him that yet, keeping it a naughty secret to reveal when the time is right.

“I want you to ride me in that fucking skirt. Want to bounce you on my fat cock.” His growl is guttural, too fitting for a grade-A beefcake like him. Of course he sounds this sexy when he’s turned on, and of course you’re falling fast for it. 

Desperate to hear more, you goad him. “Yeah? What else?”

He swears harshly again, loving the way you coax him into being bad. “Want to suck on your tits while you’re bouncing on me. Want to play with your clit until you squirt all over my cock.”

“Fuck, I’m touching myself right now,” you whine, squirming against your fingers. 

His voice is erratic, trembling with frenzy, gradually losing himself to the pleasure. “Yeah? Imagine my big fucking thumb on your pretty clit, rubbing it so fucking fast until you come on my big dick.”

“I’m so wet for you, so creamy for you.” You’re salivating, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, fingers squelching lewdly between your thighs.

“Spread it all over,” he demands. If you listen closely enough, you can hear the rapid strokes of his cock within his fist. “Do it, slut.”

You obey his orders, sliding your middle finger up and down your slit, collecting your slick to smear it over your throbbing bud, so close to your orgasm. In a daze, you moan his name, letting is roll off your tongue.

He jerks himself off to completion, coming from the sweet sounds of his name from your mouth. In between heavy breaths, he grunts harshly. “Fuck. I just came. Sorry.”

You giggle, slowing the pace of your fingers, teasing him. “I thought you were the one that offered to help mefall asleep?”

Embarrassed, he says, “I know, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to say my name like that. That really got me.” There’s more shuffling in the background as you picture him inspecting his own mess. “Holy shit, I came a lot.”

“You should go to bed. You’re probably sleepy now.”

“No, not yet. I have to make you come still,” he offers, determined. 

“It’s fine.”

“No. I need to make you come tonight so I can fuck you in that skirt. It’s going to happen.”

You learn that when Todo is determined to do something, he does it. He is a man that, when given any challenge, will do his damn best to complete it no matter what. 

~~~

Not counting the phone sex, Todo could confidently say that they have been successful in taking things slow. That is, until a few days after the infamous phone sex, when all hell breaks loose.

It begins when his girlfriend decides to host a Takada-Chan concert marathon. The pop idol kicks off her international tour a week after Todo’s confession. To honor the start of it, she invites him, Sara, and Yuji to eat a bunch of delicious food and binge watch all Takada-Chan’s concerts available on streaming platforms. Sara and Yuji stay a while, but after the fourth consecutive Takada-Chan concert, they have enough, leaving the couple alone to their own devices, which anyone could guess is not a good idea if they are still sticking to the “taking things slow” route.

As soon as their friends leave, the two give each other one glance before the kissing starts. He spent all day resisting the temptation to touch her in any way since they were with Sara and Yuji. It’s been an excruciating four hours considering how cute and irresistible his girlfriend is. 

She slides her hands under his shirt, pawing at his eight-pack. He slips his tongue inside her mouth as he completely pulls his shirt off. She pulls back, gawking at his body with wide eyes and an open mouth, practically drooling for him. “Like what you see?” he teases, raising a brow at her. She nods her head, leaning in for more kisses. 

Eventually, she whispers, “Wait.”

He stops, leaning back on the couch. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just have a little surprise for you. Wait here.” She gets up and disappears into her bedroom, leaving Todo confused and concerned. After several agonizingly long minutes, she comes out. When he sees her, his jaw drops, blood rushing straight to his cock. 

The mini skirt. She’s wearing the fucking mini skirt. Not only that, she’s also wearing the same blouse she wore at the café, the one that exposes her shoulders and plunging neckline. Essentially the same outfit he has fantasized about since. In one swift motion, he hoists her up onto his lap, spreading her legs so that she’s straddling him. “You’re such a good girl for me, huh?” he growls, scattering wet smooches all over her face. “Such a good girl.” He fondles her body beneath the skirt and to his shock and delight, she isn’t wearing any underwear. “Not even wearing any panties for me, you fucking slut.”

“Only for you,” she whispers, directing his giant hand to her pussy. “Do you feel how wet I am for you already?”

“Fuck,” he breathes out, pressing his thumb to her and drawing circles around her clit. A guttural moan vibrates from her throat, making him move his thumb faster. 

“I want you,” he grunts, feeling fucking feral beneath her. 

“You want to fuck me here on the couch?” She’s panting now as his fingers brush against her bud faster. 

“Yeah, right here, right now. Show me that pretty pussy.” With his free hand, he lifts the hem of her skirt to put her on display,  watching her melt away in the palm of his hand, thumb unyielding against her clit. It glistens with her slick and his dick get tighter and tighter in his pants from the mere sight of it.

She tugs at the waistband of his joggers to release his erection. There’s a thick bead of precum on the tip. She rubs her thumb on it, spreading it over the head, causing him to groan in pleasure. Somehow, she conjures up a bottle of lube and pours a generous amount straight onto him, then she slides her fist up and down his shaft. In this moment of pure ecstasy, he can’t help but thank the pop idol gods for bringing this goddess of a woman into his life. He slides his fingers inside her, relishing how wet she is. Everything is happening so fast; his carnal desires take control. “Fucking ride me,” he commands. 

She gets up on her knees, guiding the tip of his dick to her fluttering hole. Slowly, she sinks down on him, moaning. This is the hottest thing he’s ever fucking seen in his life. “So tight for me. My good girl,” he coos, gripping at her hips and gently moving her further down his shaft. 

“So big, baby. Oh my god,” she whines. Once he bottoms out, she grabs hold of his shoulders and rocks back and forth on his lap, adjusting to his size. 

“Take the skirt off. Want to watch you fuck yourself on my fat cock.” 

He tries to lift her up from his lap, but she shakes her head. “Don’t pull out. Feels so good. So good.” 

Absolutely unhinged, Todo growls, “I’m going to rip this skirt off, then. Need to see your pussy creaming all over me.” He hooks to the waistband, easily ripping it along the seams, tossing it behind him. Smirking, he whispers, “That’s it. Just like that.”

“My skirt!” she cries out, shocked and aroused. 

“I’ll buy you a new one, princess. I’ll buy you hundreds more so I can fuck you just like this.” He holds her waist again, setting the pace, thrusting his own hips into her. His eyes are glued to the shiny ring of her cum collecting on the base of his cock. “You’re so fucking hot, you know that? You wanted to get fucked in that skirt, huh? Such a slut for me.” He releases his tight grip on her as soon as she starts bouncing up and down on her own, digging her nails into the skin of his shoulders, fucking herself deeper. The sounds she makes are music to his ears.

He focuses on her clit again, massaging it with his thumb. She gasps, startling him. “You okay, sweetie?” He cups her cheek, caressing her skin softly.

“Yes, so fucking good!” Her eyes are half-lidded, mouth parted open, looking absolutely divine. She grabs at his wrist and puts her lips over his thumb, completely engulfing it into her sloppy mouth. She moves him in and out, swirling her tongue around him with each stroke. 

He bites his lip to stifle a moan. It takes everything in his willpower to hold back his orgasm. The way she moans, the fucked out look on her face, the thumb sucking. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. He pulls out of her mouth and switch hands to place his wet thumb on her clit, while the other hand, still glistening from her slick, glides underneath her blouse and up to one of her nipples. She isn’t wearing a bra. 

“Such a fucking good girl,” he murmurs as he strips the blouse off her body. He squeezes one of her breasts and puts his lips around the nipple, sucking hard. With both her hands, she squeezes her tits together, leaning forward, feeding them to him.

“Yeah, want to feed me these big tits, huh baby? So fucking needy.” He buries his face in between her breasts, kissing her nipples one at a time. 

“Suck them hard,” she whimpers. He alternates between each breast, sucking hard until each nipple is taut and plump between his pursed lips.

Mouth hot on his ear, she purrs, “Baby, I’m so close.”

“Come for me, beautiful. Come all over my cock.”

With his lips latched onto her breasts, thumb relentless on her clit, and cock deep in her pussy, it’s no surprise when, after just a few more minutes, she throws her head back and cries out, “I’m coming!” She clenches around him, creating a sensation of pure ecstasy, he can’t help but orgasm right along with her. She moans as it continues, his thick cum filling her up, the excess dripping down the inner plush of her thighs. She collapses against him, panting and trembling slightly from the euphoric rush. Todo cradles her in a warm embrace, burying his face into her neck. 

“You did so good, sweetie. So good for me. Thank you,” he muffles, breathing heavily against her skin. 

“That was amazing,” she says, still slumped over Todo. 

“You should go pee, baby. Don’t want you to get a UTI.”

“Just give me a few minutes. I’m tired.”

Todo, who is also exhausted from having the biggest orgasm of his life, gets up and carries his girlfriend bridal style into the bathroom. He plops her down on the toilet and turns the shower on. When he hears the distinct sound of a tinkle, he breathes a sigh of relief. No girlfriend of Aoi Todo will ever get a UTI from sex, not on his watch. 

~~~

Once the floodgates open, nothing stops you and Todo from pouncing on each other every chance you get. The sex is always nothing short of amazing. Despite not being able to keep your hands off each other, you still try to keep PDA down to a minimum. But Todo, being the big bravado self he is, let’s his guard down a few times. He still grabs your ass in public, especially when you’re wearing dresses, shorts, or skirts. And honestly, after the first time, you intentionally started wearing skirts more often just to tease him. 

Whenever you do indulge in the occasional kiss in front of your friends, Todo always gets carried away, shamelessly driving his tongue into your mouth. Normally, you love this, but only in private. Understandably, Sara always gives your boyfriend a whack on top of the head to get him to stop, which he does before muttering an embarrassed apology.

Besides the disgust over the occasional PDA, Sara and Todo get along great. They bond over working out, horror movies, and teasing you. Todo’s brother Yuji is your brother now too. He’ll ask you for advice when it comes to girls or his friendships. You ask him for advice on how to deal with annoying people at work, since Todo’s advice is always, “Just tell me their name and I will beat the shit out of them.” 

As with any relationship, there are issues you two have to work through. When Todo first explains his job, you are convinced he is playing some bizarre prank on you. To be fair, someone describing themselves as a “Jujutsu Sorcerer” who “exorcises” evil curses sounds like something straight out of a shounen anime. When he demonstrate Boogie Woogie, where he manages to switch positions with Yuji in the blink of an eye, you are certain you are going crazy. After a few weeks of processing everything, with a lot of patience from Todo and moral support from Yuji, you can safely say you’ve made peace with understanding the gist of Todo’s profession. Of course, there is still plenty that you can’t grasp, but Todo’s confidence in himself relieves the stress caused by that uncertainty. 

There are times of jealousy and insecurity on both sides that lead to fighting and arguments. When you start your full-time job after the summer, he gets jealous over one of your male coworkers training you for a week. Even after doing your best to convince him that it is strictly professional, he still can’t help himself from making snide remarks about your coworker at the end of the week. An issue that you’re still working on, and slowly getting better at, is trying not to be petty when you get annoyed with him. During this time, you just can’t help yourself.

Eventually, you manage to find the best way to shut him up. 

It’s been two weeks since you started your new full-time job. This week, you worked with a coworker, Kenji Saito, for training. Saito is a man several years older than you who is married with kids. But none of this matters to Todo because he is still jealous. As you prepare dinner at his place, you mention, “Training went well. Saito said I should be ready for my first project next week.”

Todo grunts. “Saito. I’m surprised you’re not calling him by his first name yet. You two have been spending soooo much time together.”

You smile to yourself, unable to resist provoking him. “I barely call you by your first name. But if you want, I can start calling him Kenji.”

He moves behind you like a lion stalking his prey, growling in your ear. “Don’t do that.”

You turn to face him, his body towering above you, casting a daunting shadow. “What are you going to do about it, Aoi?”

As quickly as he moved behind you, he slings you over his shoulder, carrying you into the bedroom. He tosses you onto his bed, stripping off his clothes while you do the same, already wet against your panties. You’re laid on your back when he straddles you, the way he looms over you intensifies the growing sensation in your loins. He leans down to kiss you sloppily. “Only I get to do this to you, right? No one else?” he asks, between kisses.

“Yes, baby. Of course.”

“Then say it for me. Please.”

“Only you get to do this to me. Only you.”

He flips you over on your stomach and presses up against you, lips tickling your ear as he demands, “Say it. Say it again.” His cock throbs between your ass cheeks. 

“Only you, Aoi. This pussy is only for you. Fuck,” you whimper, desperate to feel him inside you.

“It’s mine, huh? You’re my good girl. You’re my fucking slut. Say it.”

“I’m your good girl, Aoi. I’m your – “, you pause to catch your breath. “I’m your fucking slut.” 

He gets off to reach towards the dresser next to the bed. As he does this, you get on your hands and knees, ready for what’s to come (literally). You crane your neck to watch him smear a generous amount of lube along his hard cock, causing you to lick your lips in anticipation. He tosses the bottle onto the floor and positions himself behind you. 

You stick your ass out, back arched and ready for him. He slides the tip along the folds of your pussy, guiding himself in slowly. It’s times like these that you are reminded at how fucking huge your boyfriend is, and you love it. Once he’s to the hilt, he stops. “Shake your ass on my cock. You know how I like it.”

With your hands clenched to the sheets, you thrust yourself onto his dick, back and forth, back and forth. After you’re fully adjusted to his size, you pick up the pace, his cock easily sliding in and out with each thrust. “Just like that baby. Fuck. Wish I could take a video of this. You look so good on my cock. Doing such a good job,” he praises, watching you do all the work.

You continue to move yourself relentlessly on him, moaning loudly into the pillow. When you reach your climax, your back arches even more as you orgasm without saying anything. You don’t want him to know you came already as you keep on fucking him. Todo chuckles in his deep voice. You can almost feel the vibrations of his laugh against your throbbing pussy. “I know you came all over my cock, baby. You can’t fool me. You’re so wet. It’s dripping all over the sheets, nasty girl.” He reaches around to rub your clit, his fingers lubed up and wet with your cum. 

“Fuck. Aoi. Oh my god, don’t stop. Oh fuck,” you whine.

“You’re so good to me, baby. So good. Taking it like a good girl,” he whispers, massaging your sensitive bud deeper. Your pace slows down, knees weak from your first orgasm. Todo places his free hand on your waist, spreading his fingers wide to grip at your skin. “Let me take over, baby girl.” 

You let him, of course. He uses his hold on you to time the thrusts of his hips perfectly. Todo makes you orgasm twice more in this position before he releases himself inside you, filling you up to the brim with his creampie. He pulls out, his load making a mess on his sheets. 

After you do your business in the bathroom, the two of you cuddle in bed, blissed out and exhausted. He turns towards you, kissing you on the forehead, apologizing. “I’m sorry.”

You hum, closing your eyes. “For what?”

“Being annoying,” he admits.

“And…?”

“Being jealous.”

“…And?”

He nuzzles his nose against yours. “For being an asshole.” 

You smile, peaking at him with one eye open. “I’m sorry for being petty. I’ll work on not using that against you when you’re feeling upset about something.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t that upset. Like anyone can compete with me, right? Especially not Saito.” He makes a face when he says that name.

Still feeling a little naughty, you joke, “You mean Kenji?”

You immediately regret it as soon as he wrestles between the sheets, giggling hysterically as he tickles you to the point of tears. 

~~~

It’s been four months since you’ve been dating Aoi Todo. Four months of amazing sex, occasional bickering reminiscent of the origins of your relationship, and new discoveries about each other that bring you closer than ever. 

Now, you stand beside your boyfriend, waiting in line at the mall you first met at. Today, Takada-Chan is hosting a special Winter Wonderland event. Essentially, instead of taking a picture on Santa’s lap, Takada-Chan fans get to take a picture next to the pop idol in front of a snowy backdrop. After touring internationally the last few months, the singer planned an impromptu appearance at the mall of her hometown to celebrate the holiday season.  

When it’s finally your turn, Takada-Chan greets you with that beautiful, bright smile. “My favorite couple! I’m so happy you made it! I was hoping to see you today.”

“Takada-Chan! We’re happy to see you, too. It’s been a while. How has the tour been?”

“Tiring. It’s nice to be back home for a little bit. Happy holidays! Oh! Todo, please go follow Haru, he’s going to give you a little something. Think of it as a special gift from me.” She winks. Todo bows deeply and follows Haru behind the set. You can’t help but smile to yourself noticing that your boyfriend is still speechless around the pop idol. Some things never change.

You decide to finally be honest with her. “Takada-Chan. You’ve been so good to us. I have to come clean about something. The first time you met Todo and I, we weren’t actually a couple. We were just faking it because you seemed to like us so much better together. I’m sorry.” You look at her nervously, praying to the pop idol gods that she isn’t too upset for the deception.

To your surprise, she smiles even wider, a twinkle in her eyes. “I know.”

“You know?!”

“I knew you two weren’t a couple. To be honest, I knew it was a bit risky on my end to play matchmaker, but I just couldn’t help myself! Who better to be together than two of my #1 fans?” She gives you another wink as you stare at her, mouth agape. 

She continues. “Also, sweet Todo was convinced that I was his future wife. Poor guy doesn’t know I don’t swing that way. So, I wanted to steer him in the right direction to you. And now look. The fruits of my labor! The results are a beautiful harvest of love. You two are just as cute as I thought you’d be.”

Shocked, you stammer, “Takada-Chan…I really don’t know what to say. How can I…how can we repay you?”

She reaches her arms out to squeeze your shoulders. “I don’t need you to repay me! Anything for my fans.” Leaning closer, she whispers, “But tell me this: Who made the first move? You see, Haru and I had a little bet going since the two of your first visited my dressing room. Haru claims he won, since he saw Todo holding your hand at the big group date. I placed my bets on you, of course.”

“Well, actually, I kissed Todo that morning. So, you did win.”

The pop idol jumps up giddily. “You made the first move?! I knew it! That’s my girl! I love a woman who takes initiative! I’m going to pester Haru to give me my money back.”

“Thank you for everything, Takada-Chan. I mean it.”

“I’m happy for the both of you. Can’t wait to see you at my next event. DM me if you ever need anything!” With a hug, the two of you say your goodbyes. 

You find an empty bench nearby to sit on while you wait for your boyfriend. Todo reappears from the back with two black t-shirts in hand. As he sits next to you, he unfolds the shirts so you can see the front. It’s a screen-printed photo of you, Todo, and Takada-Chan doing the Taka-tan beam in her dressing room. 

“This is awesome! Our own special gift from Takada-Chan! I’ll cherish this forever. My two future wives in one picture,” he grins.

Laughing, you wrap your arms around him, giving him a passionate smooch on the lips. Blushing, he asks, “What was that for?”

“I just really wanted to kiss you.” You gaze into his eyes, smiling before saying, “Because I love you.”

His eyes widen. “What did you say?”

“I love you, Aoi.”

Suddenly, he picks you up and sits you on his lap, beaming. “You love me?”

“Yes. I love you!” You throw your arms around him in a warm embrace. 

He buries his face into your neck, muffling, “I love you, too. I love you so much.” He holds your face in between his palms, kissing you square on the lips. “I love you,” he repeats, kissing you all over your cheeks, forehead, and neck. His hands roam down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

Relationships are never perfect. People are never perfect. But this moment right now is perfect. Confessing your love feels natural. It makes sense. To think that this whole thing started off as a ridiculous rivalry and blossomed into a “beautiful harvest of love”, as a certain pop idol would say. It just proves that sometimes, finding love can start off silly and ridiculous. And with Takada-Chan playing matchmaking for you and Todo, you couldn’t write a better love story than this.

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Word Count: 1470

Chapter 7:

The door closed behind you as the last of you entered, but no one was bothered by it. Instead, everyone was busy staring at the luxurious interior that did not match the vibe of the house outside.

"It's not exactly the stuff of nightmares." Jen commented, passively proving Agatha that such things were more to her liking.

The decor, the rich life and everything was something that Jen would easily have in her life; if she did not have her magic bound and forced to make "vegan" candles and products for ridiculous low prizes while fighting lawsuits for "little" accidents.

"The Road changes for the coven." Agatha explained bluntly.

However, it was Lilia that took notice of something else... her clothes.

"It changed us, too." She pointed out, making everyone look at themselves and at one another.

Indeed, the clothes had changed to fit the mood more; now, all of witches resembling rich housewives than anything else.

You dared to glance at yourself, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the outfit the Road had chosen for you.

Your vest and tie were gone. Instead, a nice baby pink shirt had replaced the three buttons open and was rather generous with your cleavage. The outfit matched with a set of bright white pants and a white/creme jacket.

Bonus point, you were no longer barefoot, though you were not sure how to feel about the open toe ankle strapped heels

"My amulet!" Alice exclaimed in panic, searching for her very special necklace.

By instant, your hand went to your neck where yours was always tied but did not find it. Before panic could settle in, though, you took notice of one of the many bracelets you had in your arms.

One of them was your amulet, the three moon phases offering you some comfort.

Amulets were important for all witches, special symbols chosen by otherworldly powers, and each one unique to each witch. They carried fragments of your power. They symbolised your affinity, and more than once, they were enchanted to offer protection against lesser evil.

Everyone started to walk inside, some like Jen looking for a mirror to fully admire their new outfit and hairstyle, others the decorations; and some like Teen; took notice of something that stood out in this serene living room.

You stayed where you were, ready to take a step forward when you took notice of Agatha slowly heading for the door, only to realize there was no doorknob and no way to exit.

You shook your head faintly and placed one hand on your waist, connecting your gaze with hers.

"Ags," you said softly, and she offered you an innocent smile, as if you had not observed her trying to leave the room. "You know how it goes. There is no way out once a trial starts"

She huffed faintly, knowing that too well, but she still was willing to try. She was never a patient woman, and right now, she had no reason to be. She needed her powers as quickly as possible and to get away from everyone; hopefully stealing you with her along the way.

"Well, it was worth a shot," she argued and fixed her outfit, not hiding her dissing at the turtleneck and the very boring cliché outfit chosen for her.

"You know, this style is not that bad on you. Think you could pull it off, " you commented, hoping to take her mind off something at least.

Agatha rolled her eyes as she walked your way, confident as ever. "Oh, please. You liked anything I chose to wear. Terrible company for shopping"

You could not help but smirk. "True," you agreed, not once offended by her cheeky remark. "Though you could never truly blame me"

This might have been the longest talk you had with one another in a long time, and you did not want it to end. This back and forth comment and slight flirty remarks were always your thing; perhaps was also what had exposed your relationship the first time.

Back then, the world was not that tolerant with your preferences, and even now; sometimes it felt as if your feelings for the same gender were illegal, a mistake.

She stood between you and the door, head held high. While you were the same height, these heels did add you a few inches to make you taller than her, and somehow, you knew she did not fully like it.

Her gaze remained locked with yours and yet she could not help but let her eyes trail down your body, attracted by the open top of your shirt.

It had been too long since she had seen you in tempting clothes, buttons, and ribbons close enough that she could tease and remove without much of an effort.

You titled your head faintly to the side, drawing her attention to your delicate neck.

It was frustrating how easily she was attracted to you, a deep need to recreate all your past moments that never left her memory. She would never allow it to happen, not with others present and not before she had obtained her powers back.

You knew that, but still seeing the way she would look at you, the mood changing when she had her chance to comment on your words made you happy.

It was proof that despite the passing years, despite the time you spent away from one another; you had not become complete strangers... not yet.

There was still this spark between you that could easily be fed and grown into a huge fire, if only you would both let her.

You took a deep breath, fighting back the need to grab and kiss her; even if it was for a mere second. You knew now it was not the Time nor the place to try and bring back the spark you always seemed to have for one another.

"Oh my god!" Sharon shouted, worrying you all that something happened. Yet, when the mortal woman walked back into the living room with a smile on her face; your worries washed away. "Bury me in that kitchen."

"Careful what you wish, Mrs. Davis" You could not help but mumble, your mouth working before your brain could stop it. "Wishes are a powerful thing"

Your words did not seem to ease the atmosphere, and you could not help but receive different looks from your fellow witches. Your words did sound little too ominous for their liking, and considering you seemed to have some connection to Agatha, it made them even less willing to trust you right away.

Thankfully for you, Teen was there to save the day.

"Hey, check this out!" The boy called, making you all look at him; temptations and sinful thoughts pushed to the back of your minds.

You quickly noticed that in his hands, he held an envelope, and your curiosity got the best of you. You walked towards him along with the others, only Agatha trailing behind; careful of what might happen once that envelope was opened.

"The Witches' Road cordially invites you to The First Trial." He read the outside of the envelope before daring to open it. "It's a riddle. My age has value. I'm no fun alone. I mess with your mind. My tricks are well-known."

You held back a scoff. By the divine godess, did you hate riddles, always messing with your head, and unfortunately; you were never really good with them either.

Perhaps that was why they frustrated you that much.

"That's a gorgeous card stock. Double-sided, too." Sharon said, quickly taking and inspecting the card with the riddle on.

"What does it mean?" Jen asked.

"That it's really expensive."

"The riddle, Mrs. Davis." You explained to the human woman, who was once again lost in her own little world.

"My age has value, no fun alone, i mess with mind, my tricks are well-known... " Alice mumbled as she read the riddle out loud.

Agatha thought for a moment. "Sounds like a witch

Jen quickly grabbed the chance to comment. "Sounds like you."

An intense staring started between the two women, Agatha, even daring to minic Jen and not helping with the situation or the riddle.

Suddenly, Sharon turned and noticed something that was not on the table a moment ago. "Wine!"

Immediately, everyone realised that this was the answer.

"That's it. Ten points for Mrs. Hart." Jen said and all turned to look at the bottle of wine, accompanied by 6 wine glasses.

"Wait, we don't know what'll happen if we drink it." Lilia voiced out as Agatha grabbed the wine bottle.

"But if we don't follow these obvious breadcrumbs, we can't move forward, and we won't get to big prize," Agatha argued. "So, does anybody have a corkscrew?"

Chapter 8

[romanticatheartt]

You know what I want- no what I need in Gwynriel book?

For Azriel to realize to have a love and relationship like his brothers you don't have to be with your mate. I want him to realise, his brothers being mated to the love of their lives, it's a bonus. I want him to get to this point of his friendship/relationship with Gwyn where he's like "I don't care if Gwyn isn't my mate, she's my person and the only one for me". The very thing he didn't do with Mor and Elain.

In the books we keep reading how he is waiting for a bond to snap with Mor. He's not even trying to get to know her on deeper level, form a friendship or create a safe space for her to be vulnerable with him. Because somehow he delude himself into believing she's his mate and is waiting for it to happen. He's not even trying to be close to her and prove himself a worthy partner, if it gets to that point. He thinks having a mating bond is deal done for his mate to accept him for who he truly is.

With Elain is also the same situation. He's thinking she should've been his mate, why the Mother gave his brothers 2 of the sisters but "the third" to another? He thinks he can claim her because yet again he delude himself into believing she is his mate, even he and literally everyone else knows the shared bond between Lucien and Elain is as real as it gets. In his head being mated to Elain makes sense just like being mated to Mor did, even tho it literally doesn't. It shows he's desperate, he really wants that bond because he genuinely believes no one will want him, unless there's a bond (not specifically love, I don't think he believe in someone actually falling in love with him. And he doesn't know what love is lol).

So with Gwyn I want something absolutely different. He already doesn't see her as a potential anything lol. He genuinely just sees her as Gwyn and not his possible mate or lover. We even have him say he doesn't even consider her a friend, which people think it's bad thing but I think it's a perfect opportunity for Azriel, to have no expectation from that person. To don't wait for a mating bond to happen. To get to know Gwyn and she gets to know him and Azriel being himself. Because he always hid parts of himself from Mor and Elain. Specially Elain.

I want to see him unguarded with Gwyn, open in a way he never was with any of those two. And we saw how he can be, in bonus chapter. The way we learn a very personal thing about him that we have never known throughout the whole series, and Gwyn being the one to receive that information says a lot. So I can't wait to see a completely new Azriel that he never shows to anyone in his book.

[catalinemorosetheblog]

Ranking the Astral Express Crew on how likely they are to get into a fight.

(Slight spoilers for 2.4-2.5)

5. March 7th:

Despite being very cheeky and energetic, March is usually not that confrontational. She will certain fight as necessary, but she doesn't go around attacking people. She is a bit more of a tourist than a warrior. The recent Luofu arc has proved that. Even in the tournament, she was nervous about being the ringmaster and taking on opponents. In fact, March's most recent character arc has been about her fining her own strength and gaining new skills.

4. Himeko:

Like March, Himeko is not often someone who seeks out fights. In fact, she has seen less battle time than March. We have also seen Himeko act as the diplomat of the express on several occasions, often being the one that deals in negotiations and important people, like the in epilogue chapter of Penacony. That being said, she has access to what is functionally and giant space laser and a sawblade briefcase. She will throw hands, she just resorts to more peaceful measures first.

3. Trailblazer

Whether you play as Caelus or Stelle, one thing that can be agreed upon is that they are a chaotic trash raccoon with the same level of craziness of one. They carry around a bat for pete's sake. However, they are not higher on this list for two reasons. First, while they have very much threatened people, more often than not end up into fights via circumstance or accident rather than intentionally fighting someone. Usually, they use their powers for funny rather than evil. The second reason is that, as a player character, much of the Trailblazer's dialogue choices are up to the player, so them being more aggressive can vary account to account (or on this site, headcannon to headcannon).

2. Welt:

Anyone who has played or read anything related to Hi3 know why he's here. Man can summon whole tanks and weapons back in the Second Eruption and still lost to a twelve year old TWICE. Has more often than move to violence a lot faster than other characters, and has threatened some as well. Hell, in his conversation with Acheron he implied he would disintegrate her if she was a threat to the express. And the funny thing is that he has lost more fights than won them. He just does not learn. However, Welt has kind of mellowed out over the years, peace and age probably helped, and has been a bit more of a diplomat like Himeko as of late. Still, we should very much not see a mad Welt.

Dan Heng:

I ANYONE surprised by this (Hell, the last post I made about him inspired this one). He has canonically stabbed at least two people, fought a twelve year old AND WON, "killed" his stalker/possible ex-husband (its complicated), almost summoned a warship to Penacony, has been involved with 4 out of the 6 initially weekly boss battles, and is by the far the most distrustful of strangers out of the crew.

And it's all because that he found people he can trust, which is frankly the bottom line for all of the express. If the people they love are in trouble, they can and will raise hell.

Bonus: Pom-Pom:

I could see them hitting people with a broom when mad. Especially a certain cube.

[yazthebookish]

I avoid talking about the other ship specifically but I feel like letting my thoughts out on some arguments I see sometimes. Not that I have any interest in engaging in any discourse with the other side but it's my page so I can post whatever I feel like posting.

"Gwyn's purpose in the bonus chapter is to hint at her Lightsinger powers"

Okay, so you think one of the most important points about the bonus chapter is to prove Gwyn has luring powers so my question is what are the implications of that? Her drawing Azriel away from Elain? Azriel and Elain exposing her true powers in front of everyone to reveal she is the reason she's been keeping them apart? She is being manipulated by Merrill and Koschei? She has powers she's using unknowingly and can't control them so she'll need Az and Elain to help her?

You're setting up Gwyn to be prominent in an Azriel/Elain book because of her powers, so will they spend time dealing with other plotlines or mainly focus on Gwyn? Because that kind of thing definitely needs resolution since it directly impacts Nesta and the Valkyries dynamic.

So do Azriel and Elain's fantastic romance needs another female character to be used as a scapegoat to pin all their issues on her because the bonus chapter wasn't a good look on them? Or simply because his scene with Gwyn and with Clotho ended on a hopeful note than his scenes with Elain and Rhysand?

Gwyn is an irrelevant character and serves Nesta's story only.

But your argument is she has luring powers and is using them on Azriel, so will that go unaddressed? Then why would SJM throw hints about her powers if it won't mean anything?

Gwyn was used just as a marketing ploy in the bonus chapter.

She's considered a new character and no one knew she was in Azriel's bonus chapter and the bonus chapter was strictly advertised to be focused on Azriel, please be serious.

The bonus chapter is irrelevant.

The author confirmed she planted things in it specifically and in ACOSF in relation to Azriel so I would disagree. The great "forbidden romance" trope wouldn't exist without it and Azriel and Elain spoke to each other more in the bonus chapter than they ever did in the main book, I can pin-point the scene where they speak to each other only ONCE in a 800+ page book and it was about Nesta dancing with the Duke.

Gwyn has powers.

She's Fae of course she has powers but why is the immediate assumption that her powers are nefarious? She didn't harm any character and there was zero hints of her having any bad intentions towards anyone. She deals with survivor's guilt and her trauma, but she had many opportunities to let that evil secret side show but it never did. Why? Because she's obviously not set up to be an evil character or even one with questionable intentions. This is the same character who was ready to sacrifice herself to save her friends and stood by Nesta to face hateful males who wanted to k*ll them.

She's a Lightsinger.

Pretty easy to debunk because there is no correlation based on what we know and we never even see any Lightsingers. Even if she happens to be one, I believe it'll play out way differently than what some people try to push. And come on, Lightsinger and Shadowsinger? You think SJM wouldn't go for that dynamic? But for now I disagree with it since canon tells us they're monsters who k*ll for sport and Gwyn does none of that. Even if she had other different powers that are not wholly good, it's not a point of concern because many characters have questionable powers that did not erase the fact that they were good characters. It's like people never read fantasy books with characters who had dark powers but it didn't corrupt them, for some reason there's an insistence that Gwyn already caused harm despite the serious implications of having a character who is SA victim portrayed as someone luring other people against their will.

Azriel ended up at the library because Gwyn was singing during the service.

1. Clotho is seen at the service, so her being at her desk when Azriel shows up at the library is a good hint that the services didn't start yet.

2. For a singing power to work, the victim should be able to hear the singing and Azriel made no note of any singing at the library.

3. The image he sees of Gwyn's joy didn't pop up randomly, it was triggered by Clotho after she thanks him for the joy the gift will bring her and tells him that Gwyn deserves something as beautiful as this.

The shadows stay around him because they sense a threat but she's luring them.

How is she luring them when she's not even singing if it's been established that her singing has powers? Also, that statement contradicts what's in the text because the shadows were curious at start of the scene and by the end they were described to have calmed and were content to watch Gwyn. In ACOSF, they were seen dancing around Az when Gwyn addresses him.

Nesta reacted to Gwyn's singing the same way Azriel did.

Context matters and a lot of arguments that support this statement are always taken out of context. Nesta loves music so if she is going to admire Gwyn's beautiful voice, it'll be simply for that and nothing more.

There is no way to 100% pin point what caused Nesta to have visions of the Prison during the services but it doesn't only have to be Gwyn's singing but also the lyrics which were found under Level Seven and are written in an ancient language. When Nesta gets the vision she says she can visualize what the song spoke of, meaning the song itself could be talking about story of the Prison/Land of Dusk.

"But Azriel's shadows reacted to her singing"

— "How was the party?" Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music.

Silent music, not singing. Not song. Just like how Hunt mentioned hearing some beautiful music between his and Bryce's souls. Just like how Nesta and Cassian when they consummated their bond heard the music between their souls. Strong sign of Mateism friends.

"But Azriel still heard a beautiful singing, not just music."

— Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer.

Could she be singing? Maybe though unlikely since she returned to training to cut the ribbon right after he left. If she did, maybe the shadows like her voice? Maybe that's a sign they're fond of her? And if it's not maybe that's another sign that the singing they're hearing is the mating bond, which was once described as the Song of the Soul.

The Shadows having a reaction to singing isn't necessarily a bad sign, we saw them dance to Azriel's humming in HOFAS.

Gwyn returned to the library, her story is over.

I have to assume you haven't read ACOSF or skimmed it if that's the conclusion you came to, because there were clear signs that not only Gwyn but Emerie have ongoing journeys and they will leave where they are right now to see the world outside. Gwyn literally states at around the 70%-80% mark that she's sick of staying in the library for two years and wants to leave. She returned to the library because that's her current residence and where she works, it's not like she'll immediately move out right after facing the Blood Rite. This is one argument I can't take seriously because it clearly contradicts what canon points out and I think it's mostly out of convenience to invalidate any discussions about her healing journey and incomplete arc.

Casual readers don't even ship Azriel and Gwyn and have no knowledge about the bonus chapter

A lot of casual readers do in fact see a potential in Azriel and Gwyn as a romantic pairing because they have canon interactions in ACOSF. Plenty of readers shipped them even before they read the bonus chapter. Casual readers are dismissed when they address that and are claimed to be hardcore shippers that hate Elain when it's not the case since they just point out what they think is the obvious in the book to them. Every casual reader will have a different opinion but for some reason if theirs is not in favor of Elain and Azriel, they'll be dismissed so that says much.

Just a hot take that I wanted to put out there since I'll be avoiding fandom discourse moving on (unless I feel like it Lol).

[itsphoenix0724]

~WELCOME~

~Azriel x Reader~

Tonight, you sing for me- you and your mate enjoy unexpected fun in your new home when you borrow Az's shadows for the night (2.5k)

Flower Power -Az comes into contact with a strange flower on his trip to the continent, and he begins having some strange.....side effects. (3.3k)

Falling Stars -Az feels like his throat is closing when he sees you in your Starfall dress, and he can't seem to get a word out to you. At least, until you're both more than a few drinks in. (2.8k)

A Shadowed Throne -The warmer seasons have been particularly hard this year as Azriel awaits his Queen's return. When winter finally dawns he finds Death will only kneel to Life in one circumstance. (1.5k)

Can You Kill a God? -No one will ever forget why you are Death's queen ever again. (2.4k)

Tickle My Strings -Azriel becomes a regular guest at your performances, and when you take a trip back to your house, you find the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought. (4.6k)

Hold Me Gently -Azriel knew exactly what he signed up for when he became the court's spymaster, but sometimes everything gets too much for him to handle. (1.6k) Bonus Chapter!

Meet Me On The Ice: Series

You and Lucien Vanserra have been skating together since you were children, but when he has an accident that takes him out right before championships you turn to your brother and his hockey team to fill the position. His best friend Azriel has lethal grace on the ice and owes your brother a favor, which seems like a match made in heaven, except you can’t stand each other. Can you and Azriel pull a routine together in time for your competition, or will it all spiral out of control?

Dancing With Shadows: Series

Living your life with a long-distance relationship has never bothered you before, but when you surprise Az with a plane ticket you finally get to see how it works in person.

~Eris x Reader~

Your Heart on a Platter: Series

(On hiatus)

The only way to seek your revenge is to return the heir of Autumn's heart back to a witch in two months time. However, this task proves much more difficult than you presume it to be.

Prologue Part 1 Part 2

All Things Vile -A recon mission to the Autumn Court gets more heated than you intended. They say Autumn males fuck like they have fire in their veins-you guess you're about to find out.

~Cassian x Reader~

Through the Pass- On a quiet night in with his mate Cassian recounts his past lover. A fierce, bold-hearted Valkyrie who perished during the war. (2.1k)

Save A Horse- After a long hard day of work all Cas wants is a cold beer and a pretty girl. (1.9k)

~Rhysand x Reader~

Promises Pt 2-You don't argue with your husband often, and never anything as serious as this. However, some things may be too hard to come back from. (1.7k)

~REQUESTS~

Date Night (Azriel x Reader)

You Lookin'? (Azriel x Reader)

Sit down (Feyre x Reader)

Kiss Me In The Quiet (ACOTAR next-gen, Leander Vanserra x Reader)

The Fawn and Her Lion (ACOTAR next-gen, Leander Vanserra x Reader)

Forever Afterall (ACOTAR next-gen, Leander Vanserra x Reader)

Hate Me (Azriel x Reader)

~WRITING EVENTS~

Build Me A Bouquet -Ongoing

[anderscim]

✦ i did make an insane reach, but not about what i expected

(for your information, this is not about the Elliot Cuevas MV that was recently released. this is actually about something else.)

// DRDT spoilers up until ch2 + spoilers for the Literature Girl Insane MV

i guess i’ll just get straight to the point.

admittedly, i have no idea as to how to crack the number code / footnote #14 at the end of the Literature Girl Insane MV. i think i delved a bit too deep into the mathematics and tried to find some sort of symbolism in the numbers, before realizing i was going nowhere with it. if anyone does solve it, however, let me know. (￣^￣)ゞ

but i did make a couple of observations about the specific text shown during that portion. about a week ago i found something that could be a hint regarding what the text is about—and if it holds any ground, a possible clue to a certain character’s past before the killing game.

(take this theory with a huge mountain of salt)

———

there’s nowhere i can really start from, so i guess i’ll begin by talking about one of my observations.

this screen. this specific frame may not look like anything important, but out of curiosity i decided to count the number of question marks on this screen. there’s 32 in total—16 question marks for each row.

other than it being a factor of 256 (16x16), there’s something else that’s also linked to the number. the number of students (total) that participated in the killing games. every killing game has a total of 16 students, at least when it comes to the official series. and with the assumption that DRV3 is a killing game that takes place entirely separate from the other two—this means that Hope’s Peak Academy is associated with two past killing games, which combined, involved a total of 32 students.

aside from that, the footnote “256 words” seems to connect to one of Karasuyasabou’s other songs known as ���Jabberwocky Jabberwocka”—and funnily enough, Jabberwocky Island is where the second killing game (SDRA2) takes place. it seems to be too much of a coincidence to brush over.

however, we know that this part of Hope’s Peak Academy’s history has been covered up—so only few have any access to information about it. there’s even direct dialogue that supports this fact; most characters in Despair Time have no knowledge of the previous killing games.

(this does raise questions as to why Teruko has any knowledge of the previous killing games—but i don’t think we’ll be able to answer those for a while as it seems to be a major part of her character.)

in that case, why this number? (here’s where the insane reaches begin. get ready.)

if we go back to the LGI MV, there seems to be an indication that this specific code is linked to a character—which is seen by this frame here.

the roman numerals that appear throughout the MV are linked to a crossword that appears earlier in the music video—and this number (I) is specifically linked to Xander, as seen by the solution to this puzzle by @/raspbeyes here. since the code, the ampersand, the equal sign, and the question marks that follow are all in the same font, color, and transparency (as well as general format), we could also say that the text that appears during this portion is linked to Xander.

as inferred from this theory by @/1moreff-creator, it’s likely that Xander (along with Mai) was heavily involved in a (secretive?) operation or at least some sort of research involving Hope’s Peak Academy. the bonus episodes that released in between chapters 1 & 2 seem to hint at these efforts as well:

and as far as we have inferred, this project proved to be an incredible risk—leading to not only Mai’s death, not only the new killing game, but also the memories of the remaining Hope’s Peak Academy students being reset to when they were first heading to the orientation ceremony. someone was adamant about covering everything up and leaving nothing behind, but Xander and Mai’s project shattered those efforts, if only for a brief moment. but, how exactly does this relate to the LGI MV? if the dev intentionally placed 32 question marks—one for each participant of the past Hope’s Peak Academy killing games—during a frame associated with Xander, then there’s a possibility that said past killing games are also associated with Xander one way or another. and the fact that this was deliberately placed where a numerical code (possibly related to a message) appears, it’s likely that by extension the message is linked to that association as well.

putting all of this together: the question marks from the LGI MV may contain a very specific clue about the numeric code associated with footnote 14—but not how to solve it, rather what the decoded message is actually about. or, if i can word this better, Xander and Mai’s “discovery” regarding Hope’s Peak Academy was about the killing games that took place there, and the message associated with Xander in footnote #14 will be one that talks about this discovery more in detail. if the information Xander and Mai uncovered was actually about these killing games, i think the reason why it was so risky would make sense—coupled with the fact that the Academy seems adamant about covering up that part of history. though this doesn’t actually provide any proper information as to how to solve the code—and i’m sure there’s a much simpler explanation for the question marks during that specific screen in the LGI MV—i think these observations were at least worth sharing.

as always, take this theory with a huge mountain of salt. and i mean, huge. (- -;)

[forever-will-last]

New Upload Schedule!

So, it's been a while since I've updated. I've moved (yay!), had a bunch of other personal stuff going on (boo!), and literally today, the day I'm posting this, is my birthday! Yay for being 26, boo for having to move and becoming unemployed right before losing my health insurance! When will I meet the CEO of my dreams who will give me health insurance?

In the last couple of weeks, through a lot of internal debate as well as conversations with a close friend, I have reflected on my fics and the most sustainable way to continue writing going forward. Cadina Week, as fun as it was, proved to be extremely detrimental to my writing habits and accelerated my burnout much faster. (The timing was also pretty rough, as my personal life kinda hit the fan right after Cadina Week ended, and the entirety of July just kinda... Went down the drain, and ended with me moving, so, you know! Fun times lol)

I refuse to give up on these fics, but I've needed to give myself more realistic deadlines to upload, so I don't set the unrealistic expectation of myself to return to writing at a pre-Cadina Week speed, as I simply don't think that's possible right now. And, of course, on top of all of this, I started another WIP because the writing demon within me does not know the definition of SLOW DOWN. Luckily, this fic has a completely fleshed out plot, and at the time of posting this, is around halfway done in terms of chapters already. My initial plan was to drop it all at once, but as you may have seen by me dropping the first chapter today, that wasn't really a sustainable plan either. So now I'm doing weekly uploads for not only this new fic, but also, for my other fics (for the most part, as you'll see below).

So, without further ado, presenting my new uploading schedule!

MBAU Mondays: Expect an update to i thought i was a fool for no one (but baby i'm a fool for you) aka mbau (marching band au). This fic has 16 total chapters, so after 16 weeks, uploads on Mondays will stop. I'll reevaluate my upload schedule after that point to see if things need to be shifted around.

Wildcard Wednesdays: Most Wednesdays will have an update to Welcome to the Psych Ward! Some Wednesdays will have an update to sbau/one night with me and she's making vows (she's making vows). There might even occasionally be a random one shot or other crackfic idea outside of Psych Ward! I cannot dedicate a specific day to sbau since those chapters are simply significantly longer than anything else I write, and take considerably more time than one week if I'm writing sustainably. Please note that my primary focus is going to be on the other two fics, and Wildcard Wednesdays may not always happen if I need some extra time for the other fics!

Thousand Pics Thursdays: Expect an update to a thousand pictures in my mind; in a painting of the past on Thursdays! It's a lot slower than previous uploads, I know, but let's be real, that was never a fully sustainable writing/posting method. As I continue writing, if I find myself accumulating a large backlog of chapters for a thousand pics, I may occasionally have a Bonus Thousand Pics Tuesday. It entirely depends on how this new process goes as to whether or not that'll happen, but we'll see!

Thank you all so much for your patience, and I look forward to trying this out and hopefully getting back to regular uploads AND actually having a sustainable upload schedule!

[overshelter]

A very simple explanation of why SV, The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System, doesn't contain Noncon or any of that shit

WARNING: It's full of SPOILERS, so CAUTION!

I decided to come and waste my time making this thread/post because I've seen a lot of discussions about it. I'm even doing it in English and not in my official language for the simple reason that I've seen more foreigners talking about it than Brazilians.

Well, let's start by making something clear. SV is a BIG, HUGE, SCANDALOUS satire on novels with harem in which EVERYTHING can be solved with SEX.

Did we get that point? Good.

Moving on.

SV, for having this as a central point, often brings criticism and scenes that prove it. I could easily take several, but at the moment I only have the novel in Portuguese with me, and I'm not going to go after the English version just for a thread/post. So you can go and get it for me if you think I'm talking shit. We'll discuss it if necessary.

Back to the point... These parts are scattered throughout the reading and are easily found if you just pay the slightest bit of attention.

Now, you might be asking yourself: "Why the fuck is this crazy woman bringing up all this talk?"

Context, my dear. Context.

Context to talk about the problem I've been seeing: the issue of noncon, lack of consent and 500 other issues.

It's been said that Shen Qingqiu says no and asks Binghe to stop at various points in the novel. And, indeed, he does.

Only he does it at moments that don't involve ANY, I REPEAT, ANY SEXUAL RELATIONSHIP! In fact, if you go back and read it again, and if I'm not remembering wrongly, in their first kiss, he pushes Binghe away and Binghe himself doesn't insist, he just complains a bit, saying that it was unfair that he couldn't do something like that even in a dream. In other words, he basically RESPECTED and didn't FORCE Shen!

Another part to comment on is that, most of the times when Shen scolds or pushes Binghe away, these are times when they are fighting like two primary school children. Their actions, words and everything else carry an incredible childishness.

That scene of them fighting in the demon realm shortly after Binghe finds out that Shen is alive is one of them. (bonus: in it we also have the narrative of Shen UNILATERALLY hitting Binghe, and at NO point does he hit back. He just threatens, trying to scare, but always without actually doing anything.)

The second kiss I honestly don't remember very well when it happened, but I do know that Shen didn't say no or even push Binghe away completely. I vaguely remember him scolding a little, but not explicitly denying it. Which, in my opinion, shows that he himself was perhaps confused by this possible new dynamic in their relationship and was a little afraid of how such uncertain feelings could end up affecting them both.

Now let's move on to the central point: Maigu Mountain.

My novelistic trauma and also SV's most suffocating chapters, where you see just how human, broken and entirely unstable Binghe is. Both thanks to his own mind and Xin Mo's corruption.

The whole Maigu Mountain scene is made to be uncomfortable. It's not supposed to be something nice, something memorable or even enjoyable, whether for Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu or anyone reading.

This scene is the pinnacle of satire and criticism, making it clear how unrealistic it is to expect sex to magically solve all problems. But the important thing here is the fact that Shen Qingqiu KNEW what was going to happen and was WILLING to go through it. Only because he BELIEVED it would work and also because the system pushed the whole situation in that direction.

And please don't even bring Luo Binghe into this discussion. He is one of the biggest victims in this scene. He has NO conscience whatsoever and is completely screwed up and lost in Xin Mo's corruption, even going so far as to ask Shen why he didn't kill him, drive him away or something. In fact, he was completely willing to die, both because of this and because he thought Shen would sacrifice himself for him again.

Apart from that, we also have an extra where the author brings back The Resentments of Spring Mountain and the fanfiction made by the three sisters, making BingQiu read it and bringing us a scene where Luo Binghe himself and Shen Qingqiu themselves read it and say that it's TOTALLY OOC and impossible for Luo Binghe to force Shen Qingqiu to have sex with him. Luo Binghe even makes it clear that he would walk away or kill himself at any sign of discomfort or denial that Shen Qingqiu showed, in whatever form it came.

So, in short... NO NONCON IN SV, RAPE OR ANY OF THAT SHIT! LUO BINGHE IS A CHUNNY WITH TRAUMA AND A BEAUTIFUL CRYING LADY! NOTHING BUT THAT!

I believe we're clear? (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

50 - News From the South

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, disturbing and graphic imagery, character deaths, illness and disease, mentions of rape and sexual assault, trauma

Notes: An intermission bonus chapter set over a period of many months, covering previous chapters and future chapters. Various different and new povs to establish a plot basis around Westeros. Not every pov switch is made in a chronological order on the timeline. Does not feature Jon and the Reader. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

“Ser Barristan, I believe none here could dare question your honour.”

He could not have been prepared for what was about to unfold when those words had come out of your mouth. Things within the Red Keep had been tense longer then only the short hours since King Robert had passed, but now that intensity sat tenfold within the throne room. You had entered to the injured side of Lord Eddard Stark as both held that matching look with blazing expressions.

Something was to come and Ser Barristan had not the knowledge to guess it. When he approached you, you did him as well with but a paper sealed in your hand. You met his eyes when handing it, and he had long since regretted not recognizing it earlier. He had asked you before the King left for his hunt if something was troubling you, and you had been reluctant to answer. It was that very look you were giving him that said, whatever was about to unfold held part of that answer.

Looking down to it, there was no doubt of what it was as he informed the Queen Regent. “King Robert's seal. Unbroken.” Glancing back, you had stepped back to Lord Stark's side as he read forth what his late Kings final words were. “Lord Eddard Stark is herein named Protector of the Realm. To rule as Regent until the heir come of age.”

When Queen Cersei had requested she see the letter, Ser Barristan had not thought anything strange yet. It would make sense, Joffery while almost seventeen, was still by all legal standpoints, a child. There was nothing wrong with such a deceleration and yet both sides of the room behind and in front of him seemed to radiate a feeling otherwise. The words and actions which came next only proved it. Ripping the paper she almost huffed a laugh. “Is this meant to be your shield, Lord Stark? A piece of paper?” As he reminded her that those were the Kings words, he was taken back very much as she so callously declared with ease, “We have a new King now.”

She continued to speak, telling them that if the two of you before the throne were to swear fealty to Joffery, the Queen would allow Lord Stark and yourself to simply return to Winterfell. But not only was something not right with pushing away both he and you with ease, there was something Ser Barristan knew was about to go very badly the moment the words left Lord Stark's mouth.

“Your son has no claim to the throne.”

Joffery yelled in an instant that he was a liar, but it was the expressions of you both. Steadfast and sure of yourselves you two stood tall against the power before you, not flinching to what you both clearly thought was right. It made him hesitate when the Queen demanded of him. “Ser Barristan seize these two traitors.”

He didn't move with much intention, hesitant of his duty knowing it had to be done but something inside him said this was wrong. Something was not right more then what was being said. Eddard Stark had instantly urged to the Gold Cloaks who shifted towards him, “Ser Barristan is a good man, a loyal man do him no harm.”

Ser Barristan had looked to you, but you only saw behind him the boy on the Iron Throne with something red blazing behind the green in your eyes. Something not that of a stag, far more that like a she wolf you stood as. Neither you nor Eddard Stark were liars or thieves, he was a man bound by honour and you carried the weight of your fathers fist of justice. He had known you since you were a girl, but you did not stand there looking as unprepared for life as you had at three years old.

Swords were drawn behind him and still he had not moved. Joffery yelled, “Kill them, kill both of them, I command you.” You raised your head, something far more sure in your eyes as you met that of your cousins and Ser Barristan felt the tension rising to something unsustainable in this calm.

Eddard Stark raised his own voice with a command that this room so desperately needed to listen too. He stood as Kingsguard, but as a man, something was telling him the truth lay on the side he was being ordered to arrest. “Commander, take the Queen and her children into custody. Escort them back to their royal apartments and keep them there, under guard.” The watch had all shifted into position, and one last plead of reason came. “I want no bloodshed. Tell your men to lay down their swords, no one needs to die.”

But in the seconds that followed, Janos Slynt had commanded his men, and in an instant, the Stark guards were all attacked. Around he stood watching the chaos, you and Eddard had moved to the others side instantly protective of the other even through your mutual shocked confusion, and just as fast, it all finished for you both.

When you had turned to face the Stark, Janos Slynt moved and rather violently grabbed you before hauling you away from Eddard, aggressively holding you at bay with a knife to your throat. Only feet away, to many's surprise, Lord Petyr Baelish snatched a dagger which sat at the Starks side and held it to Eddards own throat as well.

The Gold Cloaks had hauled you away from Eddard Stark, dragging you separately to the Black Cells as chaos around continued to erupt. But it was not the voices within the throne room or the Red Keep which drew his attention next.

It was a voice which had been nowhere near that day, and without shifting to any sight of someone coming behind him, did Ser Barristan hide away the small letter which had sent him down such a memory in the first place. “I'm not sure I have ever seen you sleep, Ser Barristan.”

Glancing to his right, Tyrion Lannister had made his way to where in the dead of night, Ser Barristan had found himself contemplating far too much. Looking back out to the city of Meereen, the knight only commented in return, “Not much sleep to be found in my line of work. Too much to be on the lookout for.”

For a man of such short stature, Tyrion was not without the ability to make up for it in speaking more words in a day then some did in an entire year. “Can't imagine what could be on your mind. Let me guess, is it that our Queen has returned from her unprecedented journey. Or perhaps it is the sickness spreading through the city making her priorities seem rather misguided? No. The most likely answer I suspect of what is keeping you up, is the boy.”

He attempted to rationalize it to himself, “It was dangerous and foolish to be anywhere near them.”

But it seemed the Lannister was not quite as convinced as the others were of Ser Barristans conviction. “Ah, now you are sounding much like Daenerys. If I recall, Ser Barristan, on many occasions you implored him to leave the city for his own safety. Strange you would blame him now.”

Eyes slipping closed, he withheld a deep sigh of regret. It was a horrid sight, one which their Queen had not even gone to see herself when informed. Only commenting with irritation that now Rhaegal and Viserion were free from their chains in the catacombs they were being kept. It bothered many, her lack of reaction to such a horrible event, and not a single soul spoke up about it.

Until it slipped from his mouth in the safety of such silence. “It would have been mercy if Rhaegal had eaten him alive instead. No one deserves to lay suffering like that for days. An awful way to die.” If Ser Barristan allowed himself, he still might have been able to hear the screaming of Rickard and Brandon Stark.

Daenerys at least, had not laughed when hearing of Quentyn Martell's death, but part of him worried if no laughter was more dangerous. Her father had been called the Mad King for a reason, he was paranoid and utterly lost in his loss of sanity by the end. He did horrible things because putrid voices in his head whispered that traitors were all around him. But was no reaction out of sanity worse then too much from insanity?

Tyrion was blunt about it, “The Martells will not be happy.”

Once more, he found himself taking the path he's always known. Sticking to his duty. “The Martells are all the way in Dorne. Unless they plan on marching here anytime soon, we have more pressing matters to worry about.”

Once more, he only spoke a truth and it frustrated him that it seemed as if Tyrion knew the questions on the inside of his mind. “He was a the son of the Prince of Dorne, and he died trying to tame one out of, what? A love for Daenerys? Sounds like a pressing matter if you asked me.”

It was nothing that time but honesty, he knew Tyrion didn't believe what he himself had just spoken. “He didn't do it out of any love. The boy did what he thought was his duty for Dorne, and now he died for it.”

“I cannot imagine she will be given much welcome there once she sets her eyes west. Even less once the rest of the realm starts to hear things. Which in Westeros, they always do.”

Ser Barristan reminded him sternly, not sure though if it was Tyrion or himself he was speaking to personally. “We don't serve those in Westeros. We are here because we serve Queen Daenerys. If we think her support in the Seven Kingdoms is weak, then it is our duty to fix that.”

Tyrion had one question though. “And if we can't, what then? I don't imagine leaving everything behind for a losing cause would be the last years Ser Barristan Selmy wishes to spend his duty towards.”

The raven scroll hidden on his person weighed a thousand pounds. He was currently acting as the Queen's hand. It was his duty to inform her of this, so why did he read it alone and why was it still hidden on him long after Tyrion had left him for the night?

But as he looked back to the night he could still see you, much more specifically, the first time he had met you. A small girl for even one of three, the most carefree he had ever and would ever see you. When not with your father or uncle, you had quickly attached yourself to Ser Barristans side. He would in the privacy of the open cliff sides of Dragonstone, pick you up to give you a better view of the sea beyond as you would speak in quiet tones instead of the excited girl dragging him by the hand only hours previous.

You never returned back to that excited girl, but remained the quiet one who always did what you were told no matter what. You always did your duty and never with anything selfish behind it. Some days, he wished you would, just to show him there still was a girl capable of being happy underneath your burdens. But then you were gone before he'd ever have that chance to find out.

It was not news to any at the time which hurt but to him. You were the niece of Robert Baratheon, as far as Daenerys was concerned, you being dead was only good news for her cause. The lightness in her eyes matched that when he had told her of King Joffery's death too.

“Without her in my way, I have one less significant enemy today then I did yesterday.”

You were the enemy, it was as simple as that. Then and now, his Queen was a woman who gave forth no care for when her enemies were slaughtered. But, the letter from across the Narrow Sea? He kept it to himself.

He was as conflicted as he was heart wrenchingly relived. Someway, somehow, you were alive. Somehow you had survived being butchered by the Boltons and the Freys. You had helped Eddard Starks last remaining son reclaim Winterfell and the North, you and him were allied both with Stannis Baratheon and held some sort of peace treaty with Aegon Targaryean, and your Northern King had brought the wildlings south of the Wall in another peace treaty.

Eddard Starks last living child, his bastard son Jon Snow, was crowned King in the North and you married him as his Queen. It seemed, things were happening back in his homeland which spoke of far less confidence for Daenerys pride in her cause, then she seemed to understand.

You and this Jon Snow had reclaimed the North, and made nothing but alliances in peace with what should be adversaries. Daenerys was building a body count, and sending back a boy prince of Dorne with a body so burned only a sheet was what any saw of him as they put him on the ship. And still Ser Barristan wondered, had she forgotten that little girls name Drogon had burned to death, and if she did, was he ready to face the truth of what all of these signs were adding up to? If you were the enemy, why was he hesitant to tell the Queen he was sworn to, that you were alive?

What would the Queen he served now, think if she were to learn that he was the very one who helped you escape Kings Landing with your life in the first place?

Or worse, how would she react, if she were to find out Ser Barristan still never regretted it?

Selyse Baratheon rarely wished to think of that night.

The lost feelings swirling her mind and the Lady Melisandre whispering in her ear what needed to be done, almost as if she would do it one way or another. She had managed to pull and pull at just at the right strings that she said yes. Selyse had said yes in a moment of desperation, and chaos had erupted from that very moment from then right up until in the early hours of the morning when the gates of Castle Black opened from the south.

The begging of her young daughter turned to screaming pleads and Selyse had been in tears trying to not hear it, trying not to go out there and see it. It wasn't until those pleads turned to true terror did she realize that this is what she feared she would become. Ser Davos, despite his own twisting turmoil had enough in him left to turn and haul Selyse from jumping into the fire to cut her daughter free herself, as she begged for it to stop. It had been men of the Nights Watch and the wildings both who put a stop to it, but it was far too late for no damage to be done. Shireen was still alive, but for how long she had wondered.

It was then the very large white furred direwolf which came sprinting up to where the scene had settled. Arguments of why the Lord Commander was no where to be found to have stopped any of this interrupted by the startling aggression of the direwolf growling, barking with something feirce behind it's intention. By the time the men who followed the wolf to investigate returned, they all quickly understood why the bastard boy had not been there to stop this before it got to that point.

The next days were no better. Confronting the truth of what she had done. When you had approached the small little pyre meant only to burn the already dead, you had done Shireen the decency to wrap her in a sheet. You hadn't wanted your baby sister to be remembered that way.

It was a strange feeling, that she was not regretful for not arguing to let the Lady Melisandre stay. She did not miss her, not after seeing the truth of what she was. But that did not mean Selyse never thought about her. For years she was someone Selyse thanked the Lord for sending to them. Now she could ask him, was sending her a test of her strength, and had the events of those horrible days proven she succeeded for him or failed?

Losing Shireen felt like her punishment, but then again, Selyse couldn't stop but wonder why if he sent the Lady Melisandre to them as a force for good, why was Selyse's heart less heavy and troubled without her any longer? The worst part, was that it was not the first time Selyse had doubted her presence in their lives.

You were dead. Or, you had been dead and none yet knew you were once more alive. Further and further into faith did she let herself fall after the dust settled. She had spent years denouncing you as a traitor with a thief of a traitor husband, but then Stannis had came to her. He didn't say anything, he knew letting her read the words of the raven scroll said it all.

It was strange after you were gone, it was as if her and Stannis could only cope by falling further into such belief and yet the more they did, the less and less sense did the Lady Melisandre make. The more her insistence's and goals seemed to not align with what Selyse thought their Lord would want. They soon were to part on the waters to Eastwatch by the Sea, and it was that night which Selyse had not forgotten. The night she went to go see her.

Already, she was not comfortable with the manner in which the Lady Melisandre was content with not hiding any of her nude form in front of her as she bathed. But then Selyse kept seeing, and more and more did something return which she had long told herself was not a right she had anymore. She was to give up her jealousy and insecurities on the matter, their Lord had wanted Stannis to have Lady Melisandre in that way. A way in which he had not looked at Selyse in for many years, if ever. But as she stood there, it became harder and harder to not wonder would Stannis have wanted Selyse more if she looked like that.

But she wasn't here to talk about that, and try as she might, Selyse was pushing through such insecurities to eventually find the core of what she wanted to discuss. Eyes naturally drawing to the brazier, her attention was drawn back to the Lady Melisandre's voice cutting through the quiet. “When I looked into the flames this morning, the Lord spoke to me. He said, tonight, you will have your last good bath in a long while. Make it count." Not quite grasping the point she was getting at, Selyse hardly gave a false laugh to follow when she explained, “A joke. Not a very good one, I'm afraid.”

Dismissing as best she could without giving away the degree of uncertainty in her head, “It was. I- humour isn't my strength.”

“That's because most jokes are lies. And you are devoted to the truth.”

Once perhaps Selyse would agree, but in that moment she was not so sure. It would feel some days as it she could not recognize herself while the woman was there. Pressing a little bit however, it in fact exposed the vast difference between their approaches. Selyse saw no reason to lie about the Lord of Light or his power, and yet it was what followed which led to those cracks of doubt in her forming more and more.

Climbing out of the water she was bathing in, Lady Melisandre walked to her cache of potions and vials, explaining the truth of her deceptions. “Most of these powders and potions, lies. Deceptions to make men think they witnessed our Lord's power. Once they step into his light, they will see the lie for what it was. A trick that lead them to the truth.” Moving along a shelf, Selyse stood as some of them were explained to her, but it wasn't until one vial did the doubt become quite loud. “And a drop of this in any man's wine will drive him wild with lust.”

It would be so much easier, she wanted it to be such an easy answer. But when Selyse asked, “Did you use it with Stannis?” She knew the truth was as necessary as it was hurtful.

“No.”

Once more her eyes drew down to her figure, was this what her husband wanted, Selyse wondered. Was the key to filling their marriage with lust as never had really existed between them, to only be found in the body of another woman? Selyse in truth, did not appreciate the manner in which Lady Melisandre approached her.

The sympathy did not feel real. It felt much like her days when you were young and Selyse would coddle you when you would get upset about things you were too young to understand. Gently cupping the side of her face, she was told, “Don't be upset, men never crave what they already have. It's only flesh. It needs what it needs.”

One part of Selyse inside snapped. Demanding to know why was it her flesh which Selyse's husband needed, and what did she say to him to convince him that was left out in what was told to her afterwards. The other, tried to justify it.

Don't doubt her intentions, Selyse told herself. Trust the lord sent her for a reason. She whispered the words to herself, but this time they did not feel as if they were what Selyse believed in their entirety. “No act done in service of the Lord can ever be called a sin. I thank God every day for bringing you to us. And Stannis to you.”

Finally, she found the strength in her to say it. As unsure as she was about it, she found the point she came to discuss. “He wants to bring Shireen with us. I think that would be ill-advised.” It could be debated now and then if Selyse meant it, what she had said. “My daughter has heretical tendencies, as you're well aware. I don't know if her doubt is real or simply meant to spite me, but whichever the case, she should stay home.”

Did she really not wish for Shireen to come because of her tenancies, or in truth, did the idea of bringing her young, sheltered, only remaining daughter to a place such as the Wall, simply fill her with fear? What dangers would Shireen be forced to experience in such a place?

Grabbing both of her hands, she played well. “I understand how you feel. But that is impossible. You don't need powders and potions, my queen. You don't need lies. You are strong enough to look into the Lord's light and see his truth for yourself.”

Guiding Selyse to the brazier, it was those next words which Selyse now, thought of all too often. It was those, which were what made Selyse not argue, when you sent the woman away for good. “However harsh it is. However hard for us to understand. You don't need my help, but I will need yours soon. When we set sail, your daughter must be with us. The Lord needs her.”

Selyse looked into the fire that night, and did not, in fact, see her daughters death. She did not see her as being the one to allow it. She did not see the guilt she would bare the rest of her life for her failures as a mother. No, all Selyse had seen in the flames that night, was a memory. The image of the final time she had seen her daughters alive and together and happy.

The manner in which you had jumped down from your horse and knelt down to catch just as Shireen threw herself at you, both so excited to see one another and how you never looked brighter on Dragonstone then how you smiled then. Cupping Shireens cheeks and pulling her in to press a kiss at the top of her hair in another hug. Selyse only saw what she had lost in those flames.

She could recall so easily a day in Castle Black, coming down to where Shireen had been with the wildling girl. Sending her and Sam away, turning to her daughter the moment they were alone and sternly warning her, “You need to stay away from that girl.” Asking why, Selyse had been short, assuming it spoke for itself. “She's a wildling.”

Yet Shireen gave only an answer that of a child could come to with such ease. “Her name's Gilly. She's nice. I'm teaching her how to read.”

Perhaps once Selyse would have found it in her heart to have thought good of such a thing. She knew her young daughter had been teaching Ser Davos and it had a positive impact then, but she could not see passed what felt like so much darkness stacking up on each other. Selyse didn't mean when she could come off as dismissive, but in the many months since she had lost you, she knew it was becoming less and less common to find that softness left in her to give to Shireen.

Flipping through the books sitting out mindlessly as she explained to her, “She's a wildling. Your father defeated her people, he executed their King for treason.” Passing her by closely with a low tone, muttering to her, “They could strike at him, by striking at you.”

Shireen's answer was soft, innocent, and naive. “Gilly wouldn't do that.”

They all knew she didn't know. Ser Davos had told her of you when the raven came, but he had not said how or the details of why. Stannis had not said, and neither had Selyse. Shireen was a girl, telling her such details would give her nightmares beyond what she'd ever had, it gave Selyse them for a long time.

But it hadn't made it easier, it hadn't made it any less difficult to handle. For every boy Selyse had lost, it was natural. It had been the fault of her own body's ill. Shireen knew you had been killed that night, and that you had been pregnant. She had not a clue that you had been butchered like cattle, and your unborn son with it. She had not a clue the whispers of a body so soaked in blood it was said the grey's and blacks of the dress on you, had been so stained it looked a deep red.

She had not a clue that it was whispered you had been so cut open from your womb that the stories spoke that you died within seconds. Shireen had no idea that they would never be able to bring your remains to your families proper home in Storm's End, because the Freys left not a single scrap of your body left behind to find.

So she turned to Shireen that afternoon. Short and stern, something dark in her eyes which told stories that dismissed the manner her daughter so easily trusted people. You couldn't even trust the men at your side, after all. “You have no idea what people will do.”

She not looked further into those days. Because Shireen did find out, and it was a fruitless hope and prayer that Shireen had enough left in her to have known her mother had begged and pleaded to take it all back. Shireen found out, and then you had come riding in through the gates with the Greyjoy that very next morning.

You had come back, but now it was Shireen who was gone for good. Though, now it felt difficult to recall that. While you were not dead again, you weren't here. Selyse understood why you and Jon had to do this, but she hoped it would not make her an outcast within her new home.

So far though, it seemed as if as strange as it was, as quiet and stand offish Selyse could be, those of the North who knew you well, were well used to such mannerisms. None pushed her out of things because of her quiet, more stern nature and some like Maege Mormont, had laughed with ease saying things such as, “Suppose now we know where she got it from.”

Jons sister Arya, loud and eccentric as she was, reminded Selyse a bit of Shireen. Some of her happier days, Shireen too was mischievous, clever and quick on the draw. Arya seemed much more abrasive then her own daughter ever was, but not something Selyse did not know how to work around. She clearly felt a void here now that her brother had gone, as Selyse did you.

Selyse was quiet but stern, and it worked rather well with Arya's loud brashness when things needed to be done. Selyse had for many years been the Lady of Dragonstone and with the help of her brother, ruled her husbands castle and small island villages as he worked in Kings Landing. Winterfell was far larger, but they found some form of synergy as time passed.

Arya would seem surprised Selyse was not put off by her nature, but she had commented to the girl one evening, “I raised two sullen and stubborn daughters. At least you listen.”

In return, Arya had looked away awkwardly before muttering in between bites, your name. “Did you ever get mad at her for not growing up to be a proper lady like the other girls?”

Selyse had to think for a good moment, but in truth she knew what that answer was. “Once earlier in my years raising her perhaps. But not terribly. Her attitude was one problem, but quickly I learned she did not have many interests in the things her septa wished for her to do. But if she did not wish to do those things, Stannis didn't force her. He preferred she spent her time learning under his wing then forcing her into things she hated, if they would not benefit her education.”

She hadn't said anything of it, but she could see cogs behind Arya's eyes turning all the same.

But still she would think. Did the Lady Melisandre know what was to come for Shireen? Was what she saw in the flames the ones which she would ignite around her daughter? What could she have done or said to convince Stannis not to have brought her?

More then once she had suggested sending her to Storms End, stay with to Alester. He was Shireens uncle and would have been thrilled to keep his niece safe in his company. But now she wondered, was the Lord testing her and she failed? The woman knew Shireen would be needed, what had she seen in the flames which she had not told a soul? Had she seen her daughter up on that pyre? She seemed shocked at the idea Stannis was defeated in battle to his end, but confident to bring him back with this.

Selyse knew she could not rid herself of her own blame, but part of her also felt used. As if Lady Melisandre never truly respected in Selyse's belief, and manipulated her into buying what she said without question.

Now, left with her only daughter and you had gone beyond the Wall unknown when you would return, and Selyse feared she would be alone once more should the worse come to pass. She knew what sacrifices needed to be made to ones own happiness or well being for this fight, but it was a hard ask to be left without either of her daughters for the remainder of her days.

It was all rather loud, the thoughts in her head. All Selyse could do, was hope as the months ticked by, you and Jon both would return home soon.

Until that was, the day Arya came to her chambers and suddenly both of them knew they had something far more pressing to do in their days to come then merely wait for you both to return.

Ser Davos Seaworth was once more reminded of his King's stern nature as he spoke of the Targaryean King down south.

“They would be fool to underestimate him.”

Walking at the side of King Stannis, Ser Davos felt both rather used to it and yet unfamiliar to a once normal place. Serving you and Jon was a very different experience, there was more charm amongst the Northerners, and the rowdiness was not a determinant to their cause, but somehow added to their unity.

But now, his place was once more at the side of the King he was sworn too. Winterfell was not his home, nor did he have any reason to stay despite finding companionship amongst the men there. It helped perhaps, that now Stannis had a firm cause without the back and forth flipping between kings and kingdoms to fight against. Here, he had one purpose. Prepare the Wall, and his men for what was to come.

Currently though instead of where his command was garrisoned at the Nightfort, the King once more found himself in the ranks of Castle Black. Working through plans and decisions specific to the Nights Watch and coming to agreements between him and the new Lord Commander in Edd. They were not leaving anything up to chance anymore, but that did not mean his Kings attention was not drawn away many times with news from the South.

Having received a raven discussing the movements of Lannister forces, it seemed all attention now was converging towards Aegon. For a good while, the remainder of the Kingdoms were in a mess. Riverrun had been stomped out in their final fights as forced led by Ser Jaime Lannister ended their remaining sieges, forcing the far inferior number of the River Lords to finally renounce their sworn loyalty to their late King and instead to the Iron Throne.

Now, the Lannisters were forced to turn their eyes to Aegon.

He had taken Storm's End which swiftly was being followed by him taking the Stormlands, no doubt due in part to Stannis ordering the remainder of his army North, giving the Targaryean ample opportunity to conquer without the early defeat of loss. It seemed the Lannisters considered his claim to be a lie, and the bravado of nothing more then a green boy of summer. Stannis, seemed to disagree. “My opinions of him aside, underestimating him at this point is unproductive to their fight.”

Ser Davos could tell that such an opinion did not seem to be very favourable, but he suspected it was more then the sort of ire held for those in the war previous. “What makes you think that?”

The answer from Stannis however, was simple. “They underestimated Robb Stark at every turn, and he spent three years humiliating them with defeat after defeat. They have less then half the forces they begun that war with this time, and to the realm, the fight for the Iron Throne appears to be a two sided one now. Lannister or Targaryean.” Shaking his head a bit, Ser Davos could almost sympathize with those back South.

Voicing as such, “Not sure how happy everyone is going to be trying to pick a side for that one. Not as if either family has a record which speaks highly of them.”

Glancing around, if he could say one thing, Davos would note that much of the organization put in place previously by Jon was standing strong. Knowing too well, had it been still under the likes of Ser Alliser Thorne, it surely wouldn't be in the same state. It appeared, the Nights Watch had to murder a second Lord Commander to finally learn that lesson.

It was admirable though, that even now faith in him had not wavered.

Thoughts drawn back to Stannis as he spoke. “If the realm still stands once winter is over, we can turn our attention then to putting my Kingdom back together properly. I will deal with Aegon then.”

He had let Stannis's forces leave, but that did not mean it was beacuse of peace. After all, the negotiation was made between Aegon and Jon. The King which he had an actual peace treaty already established. He was simply doing Stannis a kindness on behalf of Jon. But clearly, Stannis was sure to keep the boy in his attention. Letting the ball drop now, would only mean taking on Aegon then would be much harder.

Ser Davos, like most of them, knew not of the dragons flying in the east.

“I can station a thousand men at each castle, though I do wonder why it is you seem to be so confident resources can be shared between your men and my own.” Once Jons place of work now Edd's, the three men all looked at the layouts made of the Wall and areas surrounding it.

Edd had an answer to Stannis's question, saying it almost in passing. “Can thank Jon for that if he ever comes back.” Davos could see a slight raise in Stannis's eyebrow in a silent ask but the Lord Commander either did not notice or barrelled passed it anyways. “Was his deal he made with the Iron Bank, almost hoping we don't make it so I don't have to spend every day until I die paying it off.”

Davos counted himself grateful that of everything to come easy to him learning to read, numbers was as simple as any of it. There were only ten of them in different combinations and he didn't have to sound them out to figure out what the whole of their printed version meant. Looking over some of the papers, Davos too knew he was well acquainted with how the Iron Bank works. “You won't pay it off in your lifetime, or the Lord Commander after you or the next. The Iron Bank doesn't care how long it takes for you to pay them back, only that you do. The longer it takes in fact the better, build more interest up that way.”

“Know a lot about it?”

Edd and Davos both looked at one another with almost a degree of amusement as he titled his head. The hint of an exaggerated grimace forming on the elder mans face. “They run on predictability, what they know will be stable for the long run. They knew making a contract with Jon he wouldn't be paying it back any time soon, they were counting on how much interest they would build up in the long run.”

Stannis cut through, changing directory right back to the original discussion. “Resources won't be as much an issue. The more men guarding the Wall, the more it tells them the likelihood you will have the capability of holding up your end of the bargain.”

It seemed however, Edd held the same curiosity which had started the discussion about the dragon earlier that day, but from Davos. “So how do you know they won't just change their minds and start funding the Targaryean now that you're up here?”

The answer wasn't one Stannis answered, but one he and Davos both knew was written in blood.

Jon Connington could tell the frustration was mounting in Aegons shoulders, it was obvious.

Less and less as this went on did he look a boy anymore, but a man, a King struggling for his own cause. Lord Varys had not been kidding when he had informed them at the start of this journey back east, that Westeros will not be easy to take in the state it is in.

When confronted about his promises to have prevented making this any harder, the clever tongued eunuch had a simple defence and a detectable jest in his tone. “And when should we have struck, my Lord? When Robert Baratheon lived and would have seen our dear King and his army of sellswords thrown into the sea for his name alone? Or when Robb Stark was dominating the South in years of war as Balon Greyjoy invaded the North tearing the country into pieces?”

What was more frustrating, was that Jon Connington knew he had no argument against it. He had trusted the spider this far, there was no reason to doubt that now. But he let the best of his irritation take out on him anyways. Leaning in with more of a gruff mutter, “At least if we had done it when originally talked about, we wouldn't have already lost two whole Kingdoms.”

A huff left him as if with knowledge being explained to that of a child. “There isn't a family in all of Westeros which would side with Euron Greyjoy. If being Ironborn wasn't enough, his reputation speaks ill for itself. When our King sits on the Iron Throne do you think it will be a difficult choice for the people on whom to overpower?”

Gods be good, Westeros has changed too much since this was a place Jon Connington last had called it a home. The sheer fact of the Iron Islands engaging now in two rebellions was news all in and of itself, they were hardly better then those wildling savages. Enjoyed bloodshed and violence to an unseemly degree and had no organization beyond their ships. Not great warriors they were.

Balon took the North because it was empty and open as the Lannisters hid away from the Stark boy's army. What had Euron done since then? Nothing of importance, nothing which would truly effect Aegons fight. He did not care for Lord Varys' paranoid whispers of magic and whatnot though. He heard far too much of that from the King in the North. Asking him to believe such nonsense, a ridiculous and superstitious people.

Aegon though, Jon Connington was beginning to wonder if such words were beginning to weigh on his mind. They had been standing on the beach in Storms End when it happened. It was light and hardly stuck, but gently in the grey sky it had begun to snow. The distance in his eyes as he did so, and the hesitant look when asked what was on his mind only to have him talk around the real answer.

He had to take the Iron Throne, Aegon did not have time to think about scary bed side stories Jon Snow had told him about. Every now and again he would spot him looking at the North on their maps, or looking in the distance trying to see what was too far away. He never spoke of it, but it was on his mind, Connington knew it.

And it frustrated him as much as this war was weighing down on Aegon. Both were tense, but only one of them had to keep it together to keep the other standing. He still had time after all, he still had years to be that for him.

Aegon hadn't even said a word throughout the entire meeting. Hovering over his maps and not moving an inch as his mind and jaw were as set on something as could be. Connington was surprised at the choice in words Aegon made to speak, interrupting the back and forth between the two men. “If the choice is that easy Lord Varys, why is it we could not secure the Iron Bank for our campaign? As far as I am aware we approached far before they reached out to Stannis Baratheon.”

Choosing his words tentatively, Varys looked to Connington before directing full attention back to Aegon with clarity. “You must remember where your family comes from, your grace. What your true name stands for. The Bravvosi are a very sensitive and wary people towards Valyrians.” Aegon did not shift whatsoever, and Connington could not tell what that meant. For over a month now, any mention of family had been in discussion of the Martells. It had been even longer then that since the boy at all made any mention of his father. “They are descendants of slaves of the Valyrian Freehold. Their homes were destroyed by dragons, and were treated and used rather cruelly by their Valyrian masters. They would not trust you anymore then they do not trust in your aunt.”

Once more Aegon did not move, and Connington found it increasingly strange he was struggling to read the emotions of a boy he helped raise his whole life. He knew Aegon better then this. Interrupting whatever thought may come first, he spoke with a shortness. “When Daenerys sits with him on the Iron Throne, Lord Varys, I imagine such power will change their minds rather swiftly as to who they would be wise to support.”

Only raising his expression in an almost mocking, he seemed to disagree and once more Aegon allowed the ensuing argument to start as Lord Varys found a knowing tone. “In my humble opinion, I would say your estimation may be bordering on unrealistically ambitious. Having her sit by our Kings side may prove to be the quickest way to draw away support to those who would rather see him thrown back to the sea. They do not answer your requests for an audience when it was only him, and but with a woman such as her?” A slow shake of his head dropped his tone. “I dare not think the money they would be willing to offer to our enemies then.”

Leaning forward across the table, Conningtons voice dropped. “I would watch yourself, Lord Varys. Get used to spouting such opinions and you may find yourself in rather hot water once they marry.”

It was as if Varys knew something he didn't. The manner in which he didn't seem to find himself phased by such words. “Is that set in stone? Declared somewhere I do not know of?”

“We have been planning this since-”

Loud and commanding, Aegon cut through both of them with a heavy sigh to follow. “My Lords, this is not about who I am to marry. If my aunt wished to be part of this, she would be here supporting my claim. But she is not.”

Looking with a pleading, Connington urged him once more to be more cautious then this. This was the best plan, with both of them together the people would so obviously rally around the return of their proper rulers. “Aegon, it is best-”

“Leave us.” His eyes though, were only on Connington. Only he was being asked to leave the room.

Aegon did not blink nor repeat himself, as Lord Varys stood with a collected confidence in his place in this meeting, but yet he was being asked to leave? What whispers was the spider putting in their Kings ears about this? But it was not his place to argue with him.

Swallowing roughly with a twitch in his jaw, Connington gave but a small bow and a low, “Your Grace.” Before parting ways, the guards closing the doors behind him and leaving the two of them to discuss whatever it was they were plotting without him.

When had this started he thought, when had Aegon not sought his council first? When did that begin to change when their whole lives together he was the one there for the boy. He knew the bloody answer though, it was the same time in which Aegon also had begun letting part of his mind become preoccupied with that of the North.

Door slamming shut to his chambers, and the first thing reached for was not to remove the armour across him but to pour whatever wine sat on his cupboard. A grimace as Connington let it all slide down his throat in one go, until shaking it out and letting the bottom of the goblet thud against the wood once more. Some days he wondered how easy it would have been to die the manner in which he had told the world to convince of his death. Certainly he was frustrated enough to see the benefit in drinking ones self into a stupor.

If he could throttle that bastard King he would have. He and Aegon did not get along terribly well, but enough that they found kinship in their words to debate time and time again. That first meeting, Connington already did not like him. He had the audacity to stand there and yell at the true King of Westeros as if he were a child in need of lecture. Blaming him for things which he had barley been born during.

Nothing King Aerys did was Aegons fault, and nothing Prince Rhaegar-

Hands splayed out along the surface still, Connington stood up straighter, head tilting slightly as he put pieces together. The bastard too had yelled at Aegon for faults of Rhaegar, but that was just it wasn't it? Using something which looked on the surface raw and painful only to turn it into something to manipulate Aegon with.

Pushing off, his feet carried him into pacing about his chambers. Guilt was a powerful motivator, and there were many ways to manifest it. Dawning on him that if Jon Snow were to set the stones of doubt of Rhaegar to him, it would begin to falter his ability to stay focused. Then fill his head with lies and tales of monsters to distract from what he was doing.

Some said bastards were born from sin, of course this one couldn't be trusted. How though he thought, was he supposed to convince Aegon of this now? He would dismiss discussions of the North in their meetings, shut down speculations around intentions of the King in the North and his wife.

His insufferable, Baratheon bitch of a wife, he thought callously.

Jon Connington was a fool, wasn't he? This was not only about vengeance for thirty years past, this was the vindictive remains of Robert Baratheons blood to rid the Seven Kingdoms once more of House Targaryean. If Jon Snow was the manipulator, you were the one plotting it. Of course you would wish to wear Aegon down, weaken him so his enemies could take care of him for you.

Leaving the only good, benevolent rulers the ones in the North. And oh what a surprise, you also just so happened to be the heir of Stannis Baratheon. The only other man here with a true claim to the Iron Throne. It was all a ploy, use Aegons kindness against him to sneak your way into power once more by sicking your bastard husband on Aegon to fill his head with falsehoods.

Jon Connington was sure of it, he only had to figure out a way to convince Aegon of it too.

By the time he had sat carefully on his bed, he had the windows covered and checked the door was locked and bolted thrice now. He would live in his armour until he was sure he was alone. Before peeling off the final covering over his arm.

It wasn't so much bigger, but it was indeed, not as small as a patch of grey. Sooner or later, it would begin travelling down to his hand and then up his arm. He had to convince Aegon and soon, Jon Connington did not have time to let his King figure out this deception on his own. Before the greyscale took his mind first.

He had given Jon Snow the benefit of the doubt because of you, because you had come down to manipulate him into guilt about Rhaegar's actions against his family. A perfect couple you both were, willing to lie and manipulate just to swindle your father onto the throne which one day would be yours. He would not be surprised at this point either if Stannis too was to find himself manipulated out of your way.

Pretending you were dead, and now pretending your husband had been dead to spook the Northerners into worshipping you both. Aegon had allowed Stannis to pull his forces out of the Stormlands because of his peace agreement with Jon Snow. He couldn't imagine what you and the bastard were preparing for up there.

But as Jon Connington knelt to the ground, he pulled out the cache stored away full of the anythings hoping for a miracle. Not much was written to cure this, but he would try everything until he lost either his life or the remainder of his mind. He had to try for Aegon.

He couldn't let the vengeful pursuits of the Starks and Baratheons to get in his way, he had to finish what he started. But Aegon had pushed him out of the meeting that day, so what else was he being tricked into believing without Conningtons knowledge? He did not know.

He used to not think of what fate became of the girl Lyanna Stark, because she was just that. A girl who died with the paintings of Rhaegar as a monster. He once thought she was of little blame, but now he doubted it.

Perhaps Lyanna Stark was as much a lying snake as her nephew and his deplorable wife are.

Arianne Martell knew that the sun shined bright down on the lands of Sunspear and yet not a shred of that light was found in any hearts of the people that day.

The bells tolled and echoed across the halls as silence was given with a bow each time she had passed someone. Not often she found reason to adorn herself in black, but it it sat heavy on her person even in the striking heat. It had the last time too, but this time, somehow her dress made her feel as if it was sinking her feet into the ground to be swallowed by the earth.

Long had she lost track of the time she had spent standing there, but her eyes had not blinked despite seeing nothing but the same image. Most others had come and gone by the time she found the courage to go see him, and those whom came after did not stay by her silent side. She did not blame them, it was a pain to all, but only three of them felt it so deeply.

Trystane was still young, hardly even old enough to begin growing facial hair but he looked as old as she felt when he stood beside her that day. He hadn't known what to say, and by the time the tears wished to fall on him, he had left. Unwilling to cry in front of the sister who was still holding that all in. She hadn't blamed him for it, she would have too were she his age.

Others had come and gone, Ellaria Sand and her daughters, Arianne's young cousins included. Elia was Trystane's age but she had suffered a great loss too, as it was only years ago. In those days, it was Arianne who stood where she had. Beside a daughter unsure how to feel that she too, was not permitted to see the final visage of her loved one before his funeral proper. When Oberyn Martell's body had been brought home to Sunspear, the only ones who had seen the truth were his brother Doran and his paramour Ellaria, the later having witnessed the horror firsthand.

This time, Arianne spent the entire time standing there wondering if she should defy tradition and peel back the coverings to see the truth her father had told her was not for any eyes of his loved ones. She knew then when he had told her against it, it was worse then she had imagined. The truth of his wounds.

Returning home from the Stormlands for this news was devastating. Gone to seek the truth of one claiming to be family, and returning to find the death of another. Quentyn Martell had travelled across the Narrow Sea to seek the Targaryean girl, and if once she was unsure what to think of it, now she felt another. She felt something she suspected, was not unlike the red rage which seeped into the blood of many Martells when their loved ones were wronged.

Some will blame one thing, others will blame elsewhere but there was only one truth.

It wasn't until the sounds of feet echoing across the way and the distinct sound of something being rolled along with it did she know her silence had to find a voice this time. They had spent too much of their lives not speaking, and it had to end now.

Prince Doran Martell, Arianne's father was brought to be placed beside his daughter and only when the retreating footsteps echoed away did she speak. Her voice distant and faint but solid and sure. “I used to wish I could hate him.” Doran said nothing but to let his daughter speak. “I would look up to the star of Nymeria at night and hope he could see the same, and tell him however far away we were, that he will not rob me of my birthright. Over and over again I would tell him that, no matter how much he could not hear me. Even when you told me the truth, I was still angry.”

Her fathers voice was always calm. It was smooth as a knife slicing through warm butter sitting in the morning sun, and it had hardly ever been comforting. Perhaps there was still shreds of but a girl in her heart, but it felt as such now. “We are a stubborn people in our blood, and it took me a long time to learn it was me who held that problem, not your mother. She had not forgiven me for it, and now never will. If I won't blame her for it, I will not blame you for the same.”

As even toned as he, Arianne's voice hardly picked up to echo within the empty halls against the distance of bells. “You made wrong choices and paid for it, as did my Uncle, as did I. Blaming you won't take any of it back, nor will it change that you did not do this to him. She did.”

“Arianne-”

Not picking up her tone, but the sternness in it was all to similar to that of Oberyn she knew. “We can blame each other all we like, but there is only one truth father. I had a little brother until the days he set off to find her. And when he did, he returned to us under a sheet. Had he not gone to her, Quentyn would still be with us. I could still stand here and accuse him of robbing my birthright, and wishing you could have been honest with me earlier, but we can't. And I will not blame us for it, we have done enough of that.”

Doran's voice vibrated in a confidence through her chest, finding it's way to her heart. If for only moments, it helped ease them temptation to uncover the sheet to see for herself. “Every year since Elia was taken from us, I have spent my time with guilt. What more or different should I have done to protect her, but it was Oberyn who reminded me of the truth. We could stand here and argue amongst ourselves, or we could turn our eyes to the ones who did it to her, to her children.”

A sorrowful look crossed her face, one which even only from the side did her father catch. “He didn't look much like her.”

Doran however, felt not shaken by that thought it seemed. “He never had. Rhaenys did, though. Eyes, skin, hair all looked exactly like Elia had when I held her as a babe. She would write me, saying that Aegon had their purple eyes and silver hair, and it upset her to think that they would love him more then her daughter. The truth is not so different now is it?”

He had not looked how she expected. Her claimed cousin. Skin pale as the rest of them, eyes which turned from blue to purple depending on the sun and light shining around them, and a hair dyed a striking blue to hide the once secret. Arianne had not questioned why he kept it, but when asked why such a colour, it was his answer that felt like family.

“The Tyroshi have such drastic colours in their hair. That was where I would tell people my mother was from, and it was to honour her.” Arianne had wondered if that meant the one he still held onto was her, she had desperately hoped so. She did not remember what Rhaegar Targaryean looked like, but not once did his name ever come out of Aegon's mouth.

Only Elia, only Rhaenys. In a moment of quiet before she had left, he looked more of a boy then a man fighting to be King when he had said it. Looking at her with a sad smile, “I never knew what she looked like, my sister. I never met any of my mothers family, never knew what they looked like either. If I imagine my sister could have grown up to look as you do..” He had hesitated, brows narrowing not in nerves but in something painful she now understood. “Perhaps it would be of some comfort.”

Comfort was not found here though. Comfort was not what Arianne would ever use to describe anything of her home in such hours. Comfort was for those who had not been taken from their families with such cruelty and horror. Comfort was for those who wished for their lives to be comfortable, and that was not the life of those looking for justice.

Her father it seemed, could read her more then she expected. Cutting through the quiet once more. “I have kept you in the dark, as you have I. We cannot do that anymore. I have spent too many years letting you think I wished to push you away, and I will not waste the rest of mine doing it anymore. You are my daughter, I need you by my side. As equals.”

That was all she ever wanted. Her whole life she wished to be seen as such by her father, and as much as she wished she could be a child upset it took to this to let it get there, she wouldn't waste that time on such childishness. Her voice was low, something hinting at an anger. “They said the beast had snuck up behind him. As if hunting him down like prey. One of them flies free in her skies too. Who else has burned like my little brother?”

Her father had the right answer. “What did he say of her?”

Her answer was truthful, and as unsure as he was. “He didn't need to say anything. He's afraid of her, and that tells me as much as the complete truth.”

A choice was going to have to be made. One plan to the next, they all had to be on the same understanding, one united front. Arianne's plan to crown Myrcella was one she had believed in before it was stopped in its tracks, but she was no fool to the other side presented. None could prove or disprove that Aegon was Elia Martell's son, but he believed it, and if a scrap of possibility said he was right, that was enough.

Myrcella was a good kid, smart and bright and better then the mother she was said to look so similar to in every way, but if the realm were to be asked? There was only one side to pick. In due time Myrcella had every right to be Arianne's sister by law, but Aegon was her cousin by birth and blood.

Elia was her aunt by birth and blood. And it was her memory the Martell's fought to avenge. It was her which Oberyn had died to avenge. And even moreso, there was another fact to consider.

The realm would choose Aegon over Myrcella, but the realm too, would choose Aegon over Daenerys.

The Lannisters who killed her aunt and uncle on one end, and the Targaryean girl who killed her brother on the other. Who would the Martells side with? Arianne would say neither, Arianne would say blood protects blood. And her father had agreed.

So father and daughter stood there, looking over the sheet covering Quentyn Martell's body, burned so horrible by dragonfire that she could not even look upon his grown face one last time. Once she had refused to allow him to rob her of her birthright, but Daenerys Targaryean's dragon had robbed her little brother not only of his life, but the mercy of a quick death.

Targaryeans were dragons, but Arianne was a Martell. There was no light or burn brighter then that of a sun, and as winter would one day enclose on the lands, it was her responsibility to ensure the sun shined bright and protective over her people. It was a dragons nature, to burn it all away to cinder and ash.

She had never wanted Quentyn dead when she thought he wanted to take her place as heir to Dorne, but Daenerys Targaryean would come to Westeros and burn the lands with dragonfire and invade their people with blood to take what she thought was her birthright. They soon would hold the final funeral for Quentyn, but the sun would soon illuminate brighter then ever before. After all, Aegon was not cruel and he was the blood of her family.

The Targaryean girl was a dragon, and the Dornish had never been defeated by dragons before. They would not start now.

Ser Yohn Royce did not mean to sit there with such ire, but it was all he had left.

His patience had worn thin, and there was little he could do to stop what was coming any further, he had done all he could without compromising all he held dear and he had to hope he did enough. Now, all he had left was the hope he was a good actor, or liar. Depending on which they would see him as should it be discovered too early.

The day was surprisingly bright for how cool the morning air begun. The three of them sat there and the sight had yet to stop being so utterly pitiful. His Master at Arms could only work with so much, and this was next to nothing compared to where his own sons had been far before this age. Yet there he sat watching meek Robin Arryn get beat every which way by the boy sparring with him. At the rate he had been going, he was shocked the boy had enough in him to pick up the bloody thing.

“Sword up. Attack my lord, attack- don't cross your feet.”

Ser Royce looked at the sight, and dared not to peek to his side. He knew he was at odds with the man, and it was easier to play dumb and begrudging then contemptuous and suspicious. A huff left him as Robin once more tripped over his own feet at another parry. “My sons have had swords in their hands since the time they could walk. This one..”

If there ever was an understatement, Petyr Baelish had won it's greatest feat. “Lord Arryn will never be a great warrior,”

Interrupting with ingidnance, Ser Royce almost rolled his eyes at the pomp in such a claim. “Great warrior? He swings a sword like a girl with palsy.” Just as he finished speaking did a squire approach the benches where they sat, handing Lord Baelish a note.

Don't look he told himself. The man had eyes on the back of his head, and even if he didn't, there was no doubt the pair of blue eyes attached to dark hair would seek him out should he glance out of place. He was no fool, he knew even something as simple as a seating place was strategy to the slimy man next to him, and it was not out of the possibilities that Alyane Stone was here to watch what Lord Baelish could not.

After all, he was the only one who had not come around to trusting Petyr Baelish. He had been the only one of Lords of the Vale to protest against giving Littlefinger another chance to serve as Protector of the Vale in Robins name. He still protested it, but he at the time, was a fool.

He was as much a fool then as they thought he was now. It was why they watched him, they did not trust fools. Well as it turns out, he learned from his mistake and did not trust either of them back. Had one asked Ser Royce over a year ago if he would look at Alyane with such suspicion he would have taken offence.

The man did not believe the story she told, but he did fall prey to her name and her tears. Now realizing, it had always been an act. She no doubt had lied for him, and if Littlefinger hadn't told her what lie to tell, then she was always just as manipulative to come up with the very same he had separately. Neither option made Ser Royce comfortable.

He did not like Lady Lysa, but she was the widow to Lord Jon Arryn, and he had to respect her to respect the memory of the man he did greatly respect. Flung herself from the moondoor was the story father and daughter told. He thought it was no better then hogwash then, and he still thought it now. But then Alyane had told him who she was with utter tears and he fell for such acts.

Were he to brave a look at her now, nothing close to tears sat in her eyes. She was well postured, and prim and proper, a true lady and as watching of a hawk as ever. He'd known many a bastards in his time, and none he met were quite as formal as Alyane Stone.

What had the years in the Vale done to the crying girl he met that day? Did that crying girl ever exist?

Ser Royce dared not think of Eddard Stark would say. In a horrid way, he was glad he was gone. No one should see it end up this way, none wanted Petyr Baelish to be the one any grows up to follow in the footsteps of.

So he sat there, ever the disapproving brute watching the boy fail once more as Petyr glanced at her as he tucked the raven scroll away. Returning to the conversation before. “Some boys develop more slowly. He's still young.”

Arguing back right away he commented, “He's thirteen. Boys have been known to go to war at thirteen.”

Petyr Baelish insisted however. “He has other gifts.” When Ser Royce asked what those would be, the answer was all the more work to not act as if it meant anything suspicious to him, “The gift of a great name. Sometimes that's all one needs.”

Offering his hand out to Alyane, the two begun to step down onto the grass as he led her away from the fight. Ser Royce followed in toe, knowing once more, if he did not play as he needed, either one of them would sniff his intentions out.

They were leaving young Robin at the Runestones to be ward under House Royce, but the man was not mistaken. They were dumping a problem at his doorstep hoping to clear up their obstacles, and clog his time and effort up away from poking around them too much. So he agreed to take the boy in, but that did not mean much.

Petyr Baelish and Alyane Stone were not the only ones with plans none else knew. She played her part though, respectful and kind as she turned to him. “Goodbye, Ser Royce and thank you for all you've done for me.”

A small nod back, “I've done nothing more than my duty, my lady.” And that was it. Duty to be a fool and a host and once they were gone from his home his duty was to once more do the honourable thing. The right thing, even if it too, had proven to be the deceptive one.

Lord Baelish played his part well too, they both did. He taught her to play as well as he. “I have no doubt that upon my return, Robin's skills will have improved immeasurably.”

Glancing back to the boy, Ser Royce was almost sure he somehow, had gotten even worse in the minutes they spent looking away from the scene. “He'll be safe here. As for his skills, I make no promises.”

The carriage leading them away was said to be taking them to the Fingers. He doubted that. He knew more then doubt, he was sure of it. For everything Petyr Baelish did to keep his plans close to his chest, all it took was one little slip to unravel the workings of a webbing of lies. One single raven scroll put into the wrong hands by accident and a mystery had unveiled.

Afterall, he had wondered that day, what on earth did Lady Barbrey Dustin of Barrowton have any sort of business sharing correspondence with Petyr Baelish. In the privacy of night, was the only time he read it. He trusted no eyes but his own in that moment and for good reason. News travelled, but why on earth was this news coming from her to him?

Why was Barbrey Dustin the one to inform Petyr Baelish, that you had married Eddard Starks last living child, his bastard son, and King in the North? And why he wondered as he read it, did it entail the name of a girl. Daisy. Who was she, and why was Lady Barbrey telling Littlefinger that Daisy could not get any of her girls anywhere near Jon Snow before the wedding. It had taken place the eve of their return from Dragonstone, Daisy had not the time to try.

What in seven hells did any of that mean?

Well, looking into things when he had as many names on one raven scroll as he did, was not something that was going to be terribly difficult. Maester Coleman had copies of many raven scrolls coming in and out of the main rookery, and when asked if any had come from Winterfell he had only a fair few. Those fair few, were the words of a girl named Daisy.

He had asked the man if anything seemed out of the ordinary from such letters, and he said no. But not before one thing, saying that Lord Baelish and Alyane both kept requesting that Lord Robin be given sweetmilk to handle his outbursts instead of essence of nightshade. It was odd the Maester commented, that small does of the later left the body after some hours in small does, whereas adding drops of sweetwine to milk would build up in the bloodstream. But that the requests had stopped just as plans to send him to the Runestones had been made.

How strange it was that such an oddity had ceased, around the same time Littlefinger seemed to find interest in learning that Jon Snow had married. Even more strange it was, the raven had said the girl Daisy could not get any of her girls near him before, so imagine Ser Royce's surprise when he learned the profession this Daisy worked, was running the Winter Town brothel.

It was easy then, figuring out at least part of it. The most standard reaction was what Littlefingers plan had hoped. Get a whore into Jon Snows bed before he marries you, and what likelihood was there that a wedding at all would occur in such an aftermath.

Ser Royce had never spoken to Eddard's bastard son before, but he had been beginning to suspect, this was not a mystery for one man. By the time the raven came for him, the sigil of a direwolf on the seal, Ser Royce knew that he had to be more careful then ever.

Two men never having met one another before, thousands of miles apart, had to piece together a mystery which was playing out right in within both of their homes. But that was months ago. Petyr and Alyane were leaving right now, and the Fingers was not where they were going.

It felt an insult to Eddard Starks memory to say it, but was certain, she was heading North with as ill intentions as the day she pretended to cry a sob story to garner his sympathy into hiding her in the Vale in the first place. She had lied to him from day one and she only got better and more clever about it, but Petyr's kind of clever was not to be admired. Any learning from the likes of him, was to be considered just as dangerous.

He could only hope his raven found Jon Snow with enough time to prepare. Ser Royce hated how much he did not trust Alyane, but it had to be said. Were Alyane Stone accompanying her father on a journey to the Fingers, he would not care.

But, it was Sansa Stark who was travelling with Petyr Baelish to Winterfell.

Theon Greyjoy could define himself as a man motivated by regret.

Each day he spent in Winterfell should have felt more and more like home but it didn't, in fact it fell far too much as if it grew emptier each passing one. He did his duties, sat in on council meetings, but there was nothing which truly put away that feeling deep inside that he had made a mistake.

He was angry, of course he was. Twice now you had left him behind, when a little over three moons past, did it mark a year since he and you ran from these very halls together. Grabbing you to jump from the battlements and run into the wolfswood below as the sounds of yelling and barking increased to gain on you. You and him knew then, you wouldn't leave the other behind. Not now, not after every horror you both were forced to endure with agony.

Theon had seen and known things which were utter nightmares and you had as well, and such knowledge of that did not make leaving that bond behind easy. If he could pin point the worst of it he had ever known Ramsay to force you to endure, it would be an easy mark on such a map of horrors. It felt just as surreal now as it did then. That such a threat used only to scare you to comply had come to pass. Theon hadn't dared think what happened between you and Ramsay to push him to force that threat into fruition.

As he stood walked down the steps now, the silence in here was calm and serene. Nothing like the heavy one in Maester Wolkan's study.

If any knew what to say, none dared break the rooms silence. It was deathly quiet in the most horrific of manners, and even worse so, you were the one between the three of them which looked the most dispondant over it. You had from the moment Theon was dragged into the room.

It was no mistake what he walked in on to some degree. In a morose manner he was almost getting used to that being the normal procedure. After the worst of it, Ramsay would send him your way to ensure you always looked clean and proper despite what was done. He'd only ever send Theon right after such events, knowing there was no hiding what occurred in the immediate aftermath. He was smart enough at the least, to know when to keep you away from the watchful eyes of the Northerners around at your worst.

A threat was one thing, even knocking you around in front of them was the other, but sometimes Theon would walk in on things he dared not imagine. Whatever occurred when he walked in that afternoon was long since done, but still you had not even been allowed to dress. Yet Ramsay was already keen on making his way. Telling him to bring you to Maester Wolkan before you caught something. He hadn't known right away what he meant, but he figured it out. As did Wolkan.

You didn't have to even answer his questions for them to put it together. Asking if a bite wound he was tending to on your calf was from a hound, your silence spoke that answer, and the subsequent wounds Wolkan tended to afterwards said all that was needed to be said.

Once more, Reek stood in a shaking quiet barley having the courage to look. But on the inside, Theon had the stunning realization that you weren't going to last much longer. Ramsay hadn't even yet married you and he had- he couldn't even think such words. There were many unspeakable things done to him, done to you by Ramsay and yet Theon finally found the worst of it.

Neither of you said a word as Wolkan prompted you to a number of ailments, and Theon dared not try and question what each one was for. He didn't want to know. You had no life in your eyes, you looked at neither of them and any words spoken were cracked in a painful sounding strain of a whisper as it that was all that was left of your will.

He did know however, you begged for death in your eyes. He should've gotten it over with sooner, he should've done it when you both first arrived at Winterfell. It wouldn't even matter now he supposed, there was little which was worse then this.

“If there's some part of you that still wants to atone for what you've done, you'll just slit my throat in my sleep before that day comes.”

Theon didn't, and part of him that afternoon stood there worrying his lack of action had made your life more of a nightmare then it previously was. You said no more in Wolkan's study, no more as you left into the halls, and once you had found a cold spot up on the battlements, hardly dressed for the snow falling around, you continued to say nothing. Not as the sun was up, not at the supper the Boltons forced you to play pretend at, and not as you were finally graced with the privilege of going to sleep. Knowing as you walked there, you could hear the judging giggles of Myranda who no doubt knew all about what happened by then.

Theon didn't see you until the evening the next day, when you were walking silently arm in arm with Lady Walda. The younger woman carrying the conversation with little input from you. There was more emotion of you that day, but a pain in your eyes that was drawing closer and closer to killing yourself. You had more strength then Theon, if he was forced to do what Ramsay had made you do the day before, he would've done it already.

It was that same evening did Theon see her. He had on more then one occasion during his time in the Dreadfort, but not often since their move to Winterfell. She was once more dressed in black and a thin lipped frown that likely lived on her every waking hour. Lady Barbrey Dustin was meeting with both Boltons by the time he came upon them. Forced to Ramsay's side when you were spending time with Lady Walda. Roose Boltons insistence no doubt he thought. Getting you to play nice with his young wife would make the lie sell easier when the time came.

Roose and Barbrey seemed close, cordial but friendly in a manner Theon knew was not the norm for the man. They spoke of things that didn't matter to Theon, but they at one point as his back was turned, spoke of you. To them of course, he was only Reek. And back turned or facing their way, Reek was a creature, not a person.

“It's foolish if you ask me. You risk those hearing of her by allowing such freedom.”

Roose Bolton was sat back in his seat, as usual the only one without a drink in hand and was a calm as ever despite the silent but agitated Ramsay next to him. “She has never attempted to run, she does not speak to any she is not permitted to. What else would you have us do with her?”

Barbrey answered without hesitation. “Lock her in her chambers. She shouldn't be allowed to roam even the castle grounds. All is needed is one to hear about her and the people will rally to her side.” It was still strange to think that the realm all thought you dead. Theon was forced to see you tortured every day as you wished you were dead.

Not blinking, Roose raised but one eyebrow. “The North will rally to her side, when we present her to them with an heir. She is not to be hidden away forever, eventually people will find out. We are simply waiting until the right moment to do so when we already have more allied to us then against. Anything they hear before then is rumours and hearsay.”

Little emotion was found in Barbreys tone or expression but at the very least something vaguely associated to compassion might have been a trace found in her words. Her glare found towards that of Ramsay. “Rumours are one thing, but if in the time I have been here even I have heard about whispers of those hounds of yours, then others might be inclined to hear and spread it as well-”

“I'm sure you'll make your point eventually.”

Not receptive to Ramsay interrupting her, she let a pause sit in the air before more of a hiss spat out towards him. “You wish to defile the girl before wedding her, fine. But have even a shred of decency and keep such acts to a whore in a brothel. She is still our Queen.”

Theon did nothing because Reek wasn't supposed to react in anyway.

Roose let his gaze flicker towards his rattled son, the later gripping the goblet in his hand so tightly were it made of glass it would shatter. Normally, no one said a word about the things Ramsay was doing. His voice was tight but fooled none in the anger being held back. “My hounds are girls, my lady.”

Barbrey was as quick on the draw as Roose was to let it happen. “If I am not mistaken you need at least one or two males in order to produce a new litter of bitches, do you not? I'm sure such a beast was fully equipped for the task in your mind.”

The air was tense, Barbrey wasn't even defending against what was done to you, just that it would look bad should people know about it. You were as much an object to be abused as Theon was. No one here cared about the inhumanity of it all. Of course some of the Lords knew you were alive. The ones who sided with the Boltons or were doing so not of their own volition, but they couldn't do anything about it as much as the common people could.

Theon wasn't even sure if Harald Karstark, who seemed to have have a grudge against you for unknown reasons to him, would think this was even remotely acceptable behaviour. But all the three in the room were doing, was sitting in a study bickering about it as if it was an inconvenience.

Air thick only as long as it took Ramsay to huff a fake laugh. “Now now, my lady, the poor girl is my bride, how could you say I'd ever allow such things to happen to her. Or do you need her word on it?” Only glaring his way, Ramsay continued with ever growing confidence. “Shall I bring my lovely bride in here, drag her from her sleep and have her ensure you not a soul, man or otherwise has touched her since coming into our care?”

It was all a ruse no one bought here. They all knew you would never confirm what he had done in any capacity, not here, not to people who wouldn't help regardless. You would say he was your betrothed, that you loved him and were happy Ramsay took such careful protection of your well being in these trying times. You would play along because admitting the truth would mean accepting it was indeed, happening to you.

And after this, Theon wasn't sure you would ever admit a thing Ramsay had done to you.

“Ramsay.” Roose's tone cut through the thick tension in the air. “I'm sure the Lady Barbrey only means to ensure your bride's reputation is not sullied due to false reports. Some whose ears it may reach might not take well to such allegations more then others. Regardless of their own position.”

Both Boltons knew too well who they were talking about, but Theon at the time had not put it together. But the elder Bolton was all too aware the risk it posed should a certain bastard hear even a shred of such rumours.

Though, much time later Theon would admit, even when both Boltons were dead and gone, neither you nor Theon had brought up that event for sometime. Not to yourselves, not to each other, and certainly not to Jon. For how much he knew of what happened to you, the truth was, Jon had only been told perhaps a third of it, and none of which were close to the worst.

But even now, Theon couldn't stop seeing it. He should've gotten you out of there so much sooner. He should've gotten you out of there the day Yara tried coming for him.

Had he not been in such a terror, Theon would've gone with Yara, and make her and her men rescue you before they left. Get you out of there before Ramsay had ever touched you.

Instead as the sun hidden by winter grey skies tried peeking through the middle of Winterfell, Theon thought of much but tried further not to think about the hounds. He could only think that being angry you had left for what was right, made him in such a drastic field of wrong.

Theon knew what was coming and he still got mad at you for leaving to fight it anyways. The sheer fact that you had found enough in you to do such a thing, after such horrors beat any spark out of your soul made Theon feel guilty for the way he said goodbye. Or didn't.

He knew what was coming, and the moment you came to speak with him about it, he was short, dismissive, angry, and overly formal to end the conversation. He knew you were leaving so he wanted you to simply leave. You didn't bring him the first time you took off, why would he expect any better that time?

It wasn't about him, he knew that. And Theon felt more and more unwell as the months passed. The North was closing in on six months since you and Jon and gone beyond the Wall and Arya had done a significant amount of work to ensure the people that you both were still alive.

She'd stand up from where she took her place in Jons seat, short as any but with that loud voice she could deafen a room with and remind them that they thought her dead for five years. She had crossed the Narrow Sea and back and she was still alive, so they had to have faith in Jon and in you that six months was nothing.

“Jon said it could take them three months to get to the Frost Fangs, meaning it will take another three to come back. They'll be home soon, and they will bring Bran home with them. They'll bring back your children, Lord Howland, Meera and Jojen. They promised, and has Jon ever broken a promise to you before?”

Arya was good at defending her brothers honour, as Theon was terrible at having faith in you.

For everything said between he and Yara, everything that happened, you were the only sister he cared about. You were the sister he wanted to see come home. Yara had told Theon not to die so far from the sea, well Theon wanted to tell you not to die so far from the only home that matters.

But, as it turned out, Theon only had one place he wanted to express that guilt within. He hadn't been down here yet, in all his time back he hadn't been down there. Each step echoed within the vast halls, and by the time each statue passed of faces he did not know, Theon felt himself growing nervous. The moment he passed the statue of Brandon Stark, Theon knew the one to come was the brother he was buried next too.

It looked so much like him. The statue of Eddard Stark. The sword carved for his hands looked like that of Ice, the sword he long thought would take his head before Winterfell felt like a home. Stern and serious as he always was, and Theon knew Jon was right. Ned Stark was a better father to Theon then Balon ever was.

Balon died, and Theon never went home. Never wanted to come back for him. But he did stand in the crypts looking at Ned and felt that pull. Hoping he understood all he shamed his memory with, was not forever a stain between them. But his head was a mess and he just wanted to apologize for it all.

Take back how much he wronged the family who took him in like he belonged, how much he wronged you for letting you leave thinking Theon did not care you may not come back. He was still just as much a fool as Balon thought of him the first days back on Pyke.

You were the one thing Theon truly had left, as much as everyone else around him tried to make make amends between each other, you were the only one who never questioned Theons place back in your life. He was there and you never wanted him to feel he deserved otherwise. And he was stupid enough to let you go beyond the Wall thinking Theon was actually angry at you for it.

You weren't abandoning him the way Yara did. But the night was quiet and he knew there was plenty of time to sulk. Only, Theon could leave it to Arya to come barrelling down the halls of the crypts of her family shouting his name.

Pushing where he made a home for himself sitting against a wall, Theon shot his arms out to snatch her by her forearms as she panted for breath. An urgency in her eyes and wide as her tone was short and serious. The words should have been ones of good news, but yet they came out in sound of fear and the face of a girl who knew what was coming to her doorstep. But this time, Theon knew why.

And he couldn't sit there feeling sorry for himself anymore.

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Thank you for the tag @yaralulu !! Its nice to feel included ♥

Describe your writing process from idea to posting/publishing?

I get the best ideas while driving or showering and then struggle to remember them later.

Its a mess, it truly is, i have thrown away everything my hs teachers taught me. I have 35 WIPs that as soon as I think of a scene, ill spit it out and then move onto the next. I am writing CH 15 of my fic while CH11 remains bare and empty.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

I have no idea what a pantser is tbh, I just started writing 2 mos ago. Still catching up with the lingo and all the different sites I need to learn.

I generally have an idea of a plot, and at the top of every CH or Word doc I will write a brief synopsis of what I want to happen, but for the most part i am possessed by the characters and I am just as shocked as yall are about what came out of my fingertips.

What do you listen to when you are writing?

Studio Ghibli Study music. I draw a lot of inspiration from BVB, MIW, Heather Dale and Misbehavin Maidens, but while I am actually writing I cannot listen to lyrics because my ADHD paired with my dyslexia will have me out here just writing the lyrics down.

There might be a Tarquin Bonus Chapter coming that is based off The Maiden and the selkie by Heather dale but shhh!.

What’s your drink of choice(while writing)?

It depends on Time of Day but I am the stereotypical 3 drinks at once person: 1 for hydration (water), 1 for caffeine (tea or coffee, I have a terrible addiction to both), and 1 for fun (hot cocoa, dr. pepper, or kool aid)

Promote yourself! What’s your favorite thing you’ve written?

I do really like my main fic A Court Reborn, it is a self indulgent fun story to write and a few people seem to love it, which I am floored by. I honestly did not think it was going to do well being my first multi chap fic and all. It often has me crying over my keyboard going "Lucien will be happy if it kills me." While it is a Pro Tamlin, Tam x OC, It also focuses on building and encouraging Lucien and Nestas healing to set them up for Elucien and Neris respectively.

But I also love the accessibility of my one shots/ drabbles, reader fics. Not everyone has the time to invest into reading a full fic so a quick chap to make you feel better before you continue scrolling is great.

Share a fic of yours that you think is underrated/deserves more love.

I did kinda hope for Lucien and Eris Make Up to do better than it did, but I am a new writer, not everything is going to stick and do phenomenal. I like it, and thats what matters ♥

Do you have any advice for new writers?

Comparison is the thief of joy, but also, it is understandable that you would like some feedback for your writing, I feel the same way!

I miss a lot on here, if you are one of my moots and you feel your fic did not get enough love, tag me! Send it to me! I will hype you up!! I follow you for a reason, and that reason is that I think you are great and anything you post, even if we have never had a conversation before, I want to read it!!

What is a writing style/technique that others do really well that you'd like to get better at?

Slowing down, fleshing out the scene. I get too excited when I write and rely heavily on Cannons depictions of the places themselves. I feel I am getting better at it though and reading back through my fic I can see in real time my writing improve and I think that is pretty cool.

Is there a character you were surprised you enjoyed writing as much as you did?

Lucien. I am enjoying babying him. "Yes you are a powerful Heir to Day Court, but you also deserve head scratches and forehead kisses." No my OC is not going to end up with Lucien romantically, my goal is to convey a loving older sister figure to him. Yes there will be a part where she clashes with Eris over him "hes not YOUR little brother"/ "he is now"

On the flip side, Tarquin is proving more difficult. In my head he is so calm, cool and collected, but I myself am chaotic. I am trying so hard to do his character the justice he deserves.

I am tagging: @farintonorth @1800naveen @matrixsss @positivelyruined @merwgue @bxriles @sad-scarred-sassy

And anyone else!!

[livelaughlovekny]

Texting him for homework help

a/n: going to try out a new format + wrote this fic when i was meant to be revising a test but got sidetracked. anyways, you can see how bad i am at science and math HAHA

Summary: You text Muichirou for homework help and he helps you a little

  You flip through the pages furiously, nearly ripping them. You should have revised earlier but the fanfiction you were reading was just too good. Your brain is officially a blank slate. Giving up, you opened up WhatsApp on your laptop. His name was at the top of your recently contacted. Tapping into your chats, you quickly sent him a SOS message.

You help, i cant do this anymore

mint ice creamok

You ☹️ science isnt sciencing

mint ice creamok

You how the frickity frack does a fuse work like does it just like stops current????

mint ice cream are you serious 💀 it lets current flow through but if theres too much then the wire inside the fuse will melt and like current can flow through cos its an open circuit do you get it

You ty bbg YES ok and so explain what earth wire does pls its so stupid ☹️

mint ice cream 🤡

You plsplspls i dont get anything 😢 the slides sucks

  Muichirou rolled his eyes but opened up a new tab in which he searched for the chapter’s slides. Screenshotting it, he sent it to you, knowing full well what your response would be. Waiting for you to reply, he formed his response to you in his head, figuring out how to explain it in simpler terms for you.

You [Image]

idiot wow so helpful 🥺

You it literally just like conducts electricity to the ground like if theres a leakage then it will prevent the user from getting a shock yk 

idiot still a little iffy about it but ok

You its a test, you cant be “iffy” about anything

idiot ☹️ tbf its just a revision

You ok 💀

  Rolling his eyes, Muichirou contemplated explaining the concept to you again or just letting you ask him other questions. He patiently waited for you to send your message when he noticed you typing.

You i think ill revise science tmr can you help me with math

mint ice cream the test is tmr wdym 💀

You ik but im too tired of it ☹️

mint ice creamalright, what is it

You soo whats like the four congruency tests

mint ice cream shit are you serious

You yeah 🙁

mint ice cream 💀ok wait

mint ice cream SSS = Side-Side-Side = All sides are the same SAS = Side-Angle-Side = 2 sides + 1 angle are the same AAS = Angle-Angle-Side= 2 angles + 1 side are the same RHS = Right angle-Hypotenuse-Side = Hypotenuse + 1 side is the same

mint ice creamdo you get it 🤓

You lol ass and idk 🙁

mint ice cream i dont deserve the torture of tutoring you

You 🖕 ok but fr i actually appreciate your help 🥺

  Twirling around in your spinning chair, you waited for his response. You glanced at the messy pile of worksheets and textbooks on your desk. No matter how hard you tried, his explanations were the only things that you could somewhat get.

You you know what congruent means right

idiotyeah

You impressive. so basically after you prove that theyre congruent youll write “[] is congruent to []” right

idiot yeah

You ok then at the back you write one of the congruent tests like which kind of congruency it is

idiot ok

You 🤡

idiot shut up im tired idw to do this anymore oml

  Muichirou’s fingers hovered above his keyboard as he thought about how to respond. He deleted his original message and sent another one.

mint ice cream L

Bonus: <Original message: itll be alright, im here for you>  He knew how hard these stuff were for you and was honestly extremely glad that his explanations could help you, even if it was just a little.

a/n: im so bad at this oml i feel like im horrible at explaining math and science :( tbf i do suck at them and i wrote this for fun (comforting myself) HAHA

[rhonuscorner]

To the person who sent me this!

Tumblr is being dumb and this message didn't actually appear in my inbox despite it showing a notification for it, so I hope you'll see this because this was such a nice something to come home to! ^_^ I think it's because your blog is new because it's also not letting me tag you.

But thank you!!! I think I've only posted the one snippit before (that is recent) but I got some good writing progress done on my DCA AU (14k+ words and counting for chapter 1 aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah) so yes, have another (un-edited) snippit. ^-^

And as a bonus, because I haven't actually posted anything decent in a few months, have an art WIP of one of the extra outfits I'm designing for the Cirque des Célestes boys to prove that this AU is still very much alive lol.

Still Eclipse's idea of casual, my silly beloved jester king <3

Thank you again for sending that ask!

[fangbangerghoul]

Ao3 Masterlist

ALL OF MY FICTIONS: MDNI, 18+

Starfield Tales

Updated: 04/24/24 Word Count: 155,010

Ghoul series:

1. Neon City Delights (completed) TW: Drug use, SA, Cannon Violence

Walter Stroud has finally decided to talk to you (Main character) like you are a person at Constellation. So, to prove to yourself and the companion the association has assigned to you as of late, Sam Coe, you now get to walk the streets of your hometown to complete a mission with your lead. What happens at the Astral Lounge doesn't need to be told, right?

2. Settling with the Stars (completed) TW: Cannon Violence, Alcohol

Being grounded to a planet is worse when you know you could be out doing something better with your time. Sarah Morgan wants our main character to lay low while others have been out doing quests of their own. How has our main character been settling with their down time since their near-death experience at Neon City?

3. Fleeting Pleasures (completed) <Masterpost> TW: Violence, Murder, Addiction, CNC

Our characters Crimson Fleet Arc. After going undercover our main character now has to balance who they are versus who they have to be and the line starts to blur. (Sam Coe x MC x Delgado)

4. Cellar Door (on hiatus) TW: Grief, Isolation, SA

"This famous linguist once said that of all the phrases in the English language, of all the endless combinations of words in all of history, 'cellar door' is the most beautiful." - Karen Pomeroy from Donnie Darko

To discover the unknowns of time, space and the grand universe like a true adventurer was everything to the Constellation members but at what cost? In this small epic discover what eternity really means with our main character.

5. Heavy Metal Lover (in progress) (Fic Masterpost) Tw: cannon violence

Ghoul and Delgado are back! Ghoul is stealthy, aggressive, indulgent, and stubborn as hell. Delgado is rough, creative, intimidating, and a manipulative Crimson Fleet leader. These chapters will be windows into Ghoul's Crimson Fleet life if the ending of Fleeting Pleasures never happened.

This takes place separately from Fleeting Pleasures in a universe where Ghoul finds her footing within the Crimson Fleet. This AU is a year after Ghoul joining the Fleet and the Constellation and Sysdef foregoing any hold they felt they had on her.

Starfield Shorts

Offbeats/One Shot's:

Capacity Limit (Sam Coe x fem!reader) TW: Bondage, Cannon Violence

Reader and Sam Coe are on a mission to eliminate Spacers and Reader keeps picking up too much shit.

Tear You Apart (Pirate Sam Coe x fem!reader) TW: CNC, Facefucking, bondage, light forced voyeurism, it's very explicit and it's a pirate being a pirate so just be wary. This isn't your Sam Coe from Kansas anymore.

You are now Starborn in search for the remnants of what you have left behind in your new current universe. You rush to be reunited with a new version of those you cared deeply but things go awry.

soft leather and spurs (softdom!Sam x fem!reader) Tw: praise kink, soft breeding kink, language?

You are leaving the bar for the night after playing a game of let's meet like strangers with your favorite cowboy.

Bonus Stories:

Ghoul Adventures (Halloweenedition, in progress)

This Halloween edition of Starfield tales takes our Main Character and some of the crew of Constellation on a spelunking adventure in search of what is causing all of the spooky rumors at the local citizen outpost.

Ghoul Files (a miniseries in progress) TW: Smut (I honestly don't think I have anything too hardcore in this series to tag, I will update if that changes)

This is the start of entries from Ghoul's life. Not all entries will be cannon to the current series. These entries are also little tidbits to hold you over in between chapters and series! Some will be Crimson Fleet oriented; some will be regular Ghoul activities!

Ghoul's Time at Sandrock

Short 1000 words or less chapters:

That Damn Rock (completed) fem!builder x Owen Tw: Fluff, slice of life, maybe a smooch

Builder, Ghoul is struggling with gathering materials.

What Did I Get Myself Into? (completed) fem!builder x Owen TW: Fluff, slice of life, fun stuff

Builder Ghoul tries to socialize like a normal Sandrockian.

Baldur's Gatekeep, Gaslight, Gouge Eyes 3

Collection of BG3 inspired Fics:

Thorny Feelings (completed) OC Ghoul x Bearlytolerable's OC Valentine Blanche TW: smut, anal, cunnilingus, light bdsm, magic

Valentine follows his dear friend Ghoul out into the woods away from the camp of companions they've been traveling with in Faerun.

100 Followers Celebration - Bloodweave (completed) Gale x Astarion Tw: fluff, hurt/comfort kind of

While the party is taking a short rest; Astarion and Gale strike up a conversation.

100 Followers Celebration - Calm Nights (completed) Halsin x Astarion x Ghoul Tw: bathtub, relaxation

Halsin, Astarion, and Ghoul finally settle for the night into a paid room for the night after long voyaging.

Bonus Posts

Masterpost Character Editions:

Sam Coe: Collection of oneshots and features Sam Coe from Starfield

Delgado: Collection of fics featuring Delgado from Starfield

Owen: Collection of fic that features Owen from MTAS