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randomdragonfires · 8 months ago

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Pieces of a Woman | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Even when his life takes a turn for the worse, Aemond Targaryen endures.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Smut; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Miscarriage; Yearning; ANGST

WORD COUNT | 7.2k

A/N | This is my personal favourite out of all the stories I've ever written, reposted with a new header and all that fun stuff! Beta read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs ❤️

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins.

They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment the madness had sunk its claws into his wife. He had watched as her once bright and hopeful eyes became empty and devoid of emotion. He had watched as she was pulled into the darkness completely, becoming a shell of the woman she once was.

As much as he wished he could turn back time, he had accepted his fate. He accepted that he would never have his wife back. He would never hold her in his arms again and never get to lay his head on her lap as she embroidered. She would never read to him in her mellifluous voice ever again, despite the fact that he would give everything he had to have her with him once more.

What good was all this power and wealth, if he could not protect his own family? What good was his title as Prince Regent, if he did not have her to stand by his side? If he could not protect his little boy?

His hair, once braided to the side by her deft and nimble fingers with love, remained uncared for, left loose in all its glory. Training his one dark-rimmed, tired eye at the crypt that held the ashes of his heir, Aemond Targaryen let the sadness take him - for when his son’s life was brutally snuffed out, his wife’s very soul had been too.

There was nobody to blame for it all apart from himself.

Ever since their wedding, she had been a steady and calm presence in his life. She was the quiet to his rage, the water to his fire. He had always been a sullen and lonely child that harbored resentment for those who had wronged him, but he felt his heart steadily calm down with every moment he spent in her presence.

It wasn't until he met her that he realized he was lacking love and consideration, both of which he believed had never received before - not like this. She gave him an opportunity to be a better man; one that he took eagerly with both arms.

In return, he was a respectful husband who did his very best. He wasn’t adept at great gestures of love, but he always made sure that his wife woke with a kiss to her hair and his arms enveloping her body. He wanted her to never know loneliness for as long as he lived, he would make sure of it.

For all his reading and knowledge, Aemond was not good at making his appreciation known verbally. Instead, he would bring her huge tomes from the library so he could read to her. These books covered topics that he was passionate about, so everytime he brought one, he was offering up a part of his soul. Who better to give it to than the woman he has sworn his heart, soul and loyalty to?

He needed her. He needed her from deep in his soul, and he needed her carnally, always. She was all that was missing in his life, and now that he had her, he would always need her.

But right now, as her screams erupted through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Aemond’s heart lurched in his chest, becoming heavier with each passing moment. The babe was arriving, and it would seem that the child was taking her for all that she was. Everytime she groaned in pain, he held onto the railing tighter than ever, as though it would make her pain go away.

They would not let him in, no. Childbirth was a woman’s fight, and the men would have to wait outside - much like the women did when the men went to battle. There was nothing he would not give to hold her hand right now; to tell her that she would be an absolutely beautiful mother, and that all she had to do was summon all her strength and emerge victorious.

As though she had heard his thoughts, her pained wails slowly died down, replaced by the first cries of a newborn. Boy or girl, the babe had an incredibly strong pair of lungs on them, their mighty cries could overshadow even the loudest of thunderstorms. The cries echoed through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, and the servants outside immediately jumped to work. A new royal babe had been born after all - there was work to be done, celebratory feasts to be organized, chambers to be prepared, nothing but the best for a Targaryen.

His mother stepped out of the chambers and laid a hand on his back in comfort. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled in congratulations. “Mother and babe are well, my son. She has made me so proud. The little one is beautiful, he would go on to achieve many great things. Just like you.”

A son. She had given him an heir to carry his bloodline. How would he ever repay her?

He walked into the chambers with speed that he did not know he possessed, his purpose made clear with each stride. The midwives and maids moved to make way for the One-Eyed Prince, and in he went.

She laid in the middle of the chambers, looking like she had braved the worst experience of her life. Her hair was askew, with sweat coating her entire body, her fatigue was palpable. Blood and waters coated the floor, and the chambers smelled like death. The bloody spots on her shift alarmed him, and it concerned him to see his usually happy and energetic wife look so thoroughly worn out. But then she smiled.

Through all her weariness from the challenges of the birthing bed, she had meekly smiled at him - and all was alright in his world again. He held her cheek in his palm and kissed her forehead, heart full from knowing that she was alright. She reached for his other hand, holding onto it like it was the last thing that kept her tethered to reality.

“Are you well, wife?”

The seemingly simple question certainly did not project the waves of concern that had plagued him outside while he waited with bated breath, but she knew. She saw it in the crinkles on his forehead and the widening of his good eye.

“I am now.”

She had braved battle, and had never looked more beautiful to him than she did now. Her voice was hoarse from all the pained screaming, and she certainly had no business being awake right now - but by the Gods, he was the happiest man in the realm.

The maids were done with wiping the blood off of the babe and had handed the boy to her. Aemond knew right then that he would have to compete for his wife’s attention from then on, for his little son had clearly stolen her heart, and his, within moments of his birth.

Her weak voice called out to him once more. “Aemond, husband… look what we made.”

He was exquisite. Aemond reached out to the babe, his son, and his son's pudgy rose finger latched onto his long, sturdy one as he continued to cry. “He has a strong grip. He shall be a storied warrior." She smiles at the possibility, and he cannot help but kiss her hand once more.

"You’ve given birth to a boy as strong as you are, wife.” He watched as she nudged her nose to the babe’s and smiled, her face glistening from sweat and tears. His newborn son’s cries got louder with each passing moment, but despite being a man of silence and solitude, Aemond had never felt more at peace.

“Thank you.”

Aemond would be the first to deny that he was a doting paragon of a husband that the bards would sing about, but he certainly was a good man who loved and respected his wife.

In the days that followed the birth of his child, he had spent every waking moment that he could spare with the pair of them. Both mother and son had the fierce One-Eyed Prince wrapped around their fingers. Between sparring sessions and battling his family’s idiosyncrasies on the daily, his little family had given him quite the reprieve, one that he was infinitely thankful for.

But now, his son is gone, and his wife is too.

“The heirs need to be kept safe. The twins, little Maelor, all three of them,” his mother said.

He may be in the middle of a war, but it was moments like these that seemed hardest to him. Aemond sat quietly by the hearth, in the very same chair where he always rested. His wife used to sit by him or at his feet as she embroidered. Now, her absence was a gaping hole each time he sat.

“Aemond…”

He turned to the sound of his grandfather calling out his name, looking cold and calculated. It did not escape Aemond that he was discussing the safety of his brother's children while he had lost his own child. The irony of it all was stark and jarring.

“Yes,” he curtly responded.

“It is in our best interests that you…” His grandfather paused midway through his words, and Aemond knew well that the man did that only when unsettling news was to follow. “...that you take a new wife. We’re in need of an alliance, and she can be sent to the motherhouse at Oldtown. She will be cared for, she will be fed-”

He saw red. “My son is dead!” The words tumbled out of Aemond’s mouth like shards of glass before he could even comprehend the gravity of his grandfather’s heavy, cutting words.

"My son’s death is on my conscience, his blood is on my hands. I did not do the deed myself, but it certainly feels like I was the one who wielded the knife that killed him.” The people had taken to calling him a kinslayer, and Aemond felt it in his bones everyday - not because of Lucerys Velaryon, but because of how his rash actions had resulted in the death of his little boy.

“My son is dead, and my wife has not been the same ever since. How do you think I can start a new family, with a new woman, when I know very well that I have caused all the grief that has driven my wife to madness? When I caused the death of my own child?”

Aemond Targaryen always made for a menacing sight, but his grandfather was not prepared for the kind of anger that his grandson had kept stored in him - for himself, his wife, and his son. They were not here, and he was angry enough for all three of them.

The Dowager Queen watched the entire conversation unfold, and she held her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat become frantic with each moment that she saw her son in distress. She knew how content he was in his wife's presence, and how much he loved her. To watch a child grow and fester in his own resentment - no mother should have to witness it. And yet, the Gods saw fit to give Alicent Hightower the closest view to her son's heartbreak.

“Get out,” he seethed. Otto Hightower took Aemond’s raw and angry words in stride before walking away, his head still held high.

His mother stood in front of him, held his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’m so sorry…”

She wept until she could not, and it took everything Aemond had in him to not do the same.

When he tossed and turned in his bed in the middle of the night, he would always reach out for her.

She would always welcome his touch and curl into him, her forehead resting on the smooth planes of his chest and her warm breath making goosebumps rise on his skin. He would hold her tight until neither could ascertain where one ended and the other began, and sleep that normally eluded him would come to him faster than anything else.

Tonight, her spot on the bed is empty.

When he woke in a hurry, he noticed the crumpled sheets and the pillows left askew, the only evidence of her having retired to bed alongside him. He quickly rose from the bed and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart, wondering as to where she could have gone at this ungodly hour.

Gods, was she hurt?

He did not have to wait for the divine deities to answer, for his answer came in the form of the sweet humming sounds that he had grown to love. He followed her voice as he walked through their apartments, and it led him to the chamber where his son’s crib was kept. She was sitting next to it in her white shift, her head peeping in as she let her hands rest on the crib. She hummed softly and happily, marveling at how beautiful her little boy looked as he slept - looking much like the man she shared her bed with.

Aemond wanted to ask her to come back to bed immediately. The maesters had advised lots of rest for his wife, given the stress of the labors and the damage her body had taken. But as he watched her and his boy, he knew he couldn’t. He needed a moment to drink in the sight of his wife and son - his entire world, all in one chamber.

He held so much love in his heart for them both despite seeing them only with one eye. Perhaps he’d be able to love them more if he could see them with two.

“He’s going to be there when we wake, wife. Come back to bed.”

She turned to him and smiled, a warm smile that he wished he could brand into his mind for all eternity. “Did I wake you?”

“You did not. Your absence from our bed did.”

She chuckled softly, and he walked over to her. He positioned himself behind her chair and kissed her temple, letting his hands rest on her shoulders. “I don’t think I shall ever tire of looking at him,” She said.

“Hm.” His gaze rested on the sleeping babe, tired from all his crying throughout the day.

“My son, a dragon prince,” She mused. “He’ll be charming, strong and intelligent, just like his father.”

At that, he chuckled darkly and she rose, turning around to face him. Her hand found his cheek and he leaned into her touch, leaving a light kiss on her wrist as he held her hand in place. “What’s so amusing, husband?”

“Charming is not the first word anyone would use to describe me, wife.”

“Well, you are. To me.” Her whispering siren-like voice was like music to his ears.

She reached up on her toes and left a light kiss on his brow, and Aemond was quick to hold her to him by the waist, wanting to have this - this quiet solace - all to himself for a time.

Who was he to argue with the woman around whom his entire world revolved? The very one that held his heart in her hands?

He stands in the middle of what used to be their shared chambers and sighs.

The entire room is covered in pieces of her - fragments of her that he desperately clings to for dear life. Robes and dresses that she had not worn in a long time, but still manage to somehow retain her scent. Quills and ink that she used to write her correspondence with, now left to gather dust. Ten Thousand Ships, her favorite book, one that he had given to her as a name day present, laid abandoned on the bedside table.

This was the very same chamber where he had claimed her. This was where he had first admitted to loving her. This was where she had told him that she was with child. This was where they had spent countless nights talking well into the night, their bodies entwined and voices coming out in hushed whispers and low giggles. This was where they had discovered and learned of the passions of the marital bed, together. This was where their marriage had grown and bloomed.

If he walks a little further, his feet will take him to the adjoined room where his son used to sleep - but try as he might, he does not have the strength for that. Not yet.

He sits by the edge of their bed, the sunlight passing through the windows in streaks of yellow gold. He closes his good eye, hoping for a little time to adjust to the light. Perhaps if he closes it hard enough, he will be able to picture her sitting by the window with her focused eyes trained on her embroidery or one of his books, waiting for him to come back to her after his daily duties.

His nose flares at the unearthly reminder that his wife is no longer his by side. She had been full of happiness and life, and she had brought light into his life. He welcomed it for as long as she was around, but now that she was gone, he closes his eye and avoids it like the plague, much like he does with the sunlight that now warms his skin.

Her world has become dark because of him. How can he sit in the light in good conscience, when he knows he has lost all right to it?

The waves crashed by the shores of Blackwater Bay and she sat on the sands, watching them. She had a book in her hands, and a basket of food that she had the maids prepare for them to take.

Her eyes closely followed her husband as he held their baby son’s hands upright, his little pudgy feet resting over his huge boot-clad ones as he led them forward. The little boy’s gurgling and laughing echoed through the wind, and she took a bite of a juicy apple while holding a book in her other hand.

They were the picture of a happy family, the stories of whom may be immortalized in songs for years to come.

He had not yet begun to walk, and his words were all a blubbering mess - but Aemond Targaryen was not known for being patient. He insisted on guiding his son to his feet so his first steps would come to him quicker, and spoke to him in High Valyrian in hopes that his first words would be in his native tongue.

Her boys had walked all the way toward her with her baby’s toes pressing onto Aemond’s feet harshly. He picked him up and held him then, and his son’s hands landed on his eyepatch. It had become his favorite little plaything these days - the boy took to wrangling it off his father’s head and swinging it with his two fat fingers until he grew tired - that was if he did not notice the sapphire first. By the Gods, if he did, he would insist on taking that off to play with too. His son, like him, had a taste for the finer things in life, it would seem.

“He’s taken well to the waters, I think,” she said. Her fondness for the little lad and her husband was evident in her face as she watched them. Her son had taken to swinging his arms in all directions, occasionally hitting his father’s face.

“Water does not mix with fire and blood. He should not be taking so well to the waters.”

“Suppose he can embrace it all then. Perhaps he’s… special.” She rose to meet her son’s eyes, leaving a kiss on his cheek. The boy smiled, a handful of his father’s alabaster hair in his hands as he pulled. Aemond winced, and she giggled.

“Zaldrītsos…” Aemond murmured, a quiet plea to his son to stop. It fell on deaf ears, but he did not mind. [Little dragon]

A maid had come to inform them that their presence was requested in the keep, and Aemond handed the boy over to her before walking back to give his wife his hand. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and rubbed her hand with his before leading them away, their steps slow and relaxed.

“We should have another,” she said. Her smile, the source of all his content, was as bright as the sun. “You should take me tonight,” she murmured then, eyes quickly blackened by lust. He watched as the girl with childish wonder transformed into a seductress, and he lost even before he tried - defeat had never felt sweeter.

He could never deny her anything she wanted.

“Do you want me, wife?” He muttered darkly as he halted his steps, turning towards her. He held her by the waist and kissed her brow, waiting for her to respond.

“I always want you,” she murmured, eyes fluttering at the closeness of his lips. Her bright eyes sought his lilac one as the sound of the waves rippled through the air. “I also want to bear you another child. Would you like that, husband? Another little babe for us to love…”

He nodded and kissed her, pouring all his passion into it as he devoured her lips. “You do look beautiful, belly round and full with my child.”

That night, he choked her name out like an urgent prayer while he spilled into her, his peak following soon after hers. He then peppered kisses across her face and neck as the smell of sweat and coupling engulfed them, while she held onto his hair and let her hand wander over it in a soothing manner. He rubbed a hand over her belly, praying that his seed had taken. If not, he would seek her out and touch her everywhere once more - he would never be tired of her.

If another child was what she desired, then she shall have it - for how could he ever deny her?

The burns and injuries had ruined any spirit Aegon may have had as King.

He had watched his brother as he grew into a fierce protector of his family soon after being crowned. Ser Criston had made clear the dangers that they posed to Rhaenyra with their very existence, and it was all Aegon needed to grow into his role as the rightful monarch. However, he had gotten ahead of himself and underestimated his skills as a dragonriding fighter and gotten himself hurt.

Aemond’s role as Prince Regent was something that he slid into seamlessly - he had always known that he was the better fit for the throne after all. His first action was to ensure the safety of his own wife, Helaena and her three children.

“They’ve been moved to our father’s old chambers. Deep in the Holdfast, far away from any possible intru-”

“I know where the chambers are, Aemond. Will you shut up? You’re giving me a headache.” Aegon interrupted, words slurred as he sipped on Arbor Red. The wine sloshed in the cup as it moved in his unsteady hands.

His eyes were trained on his brother, a tired and tested man who was now incharge of running a Kingdom. Aegon knew that the crown was heavy, but it did not compare to the weight of the world that Aemond always carried on his shoulders. It only seemed to have gotten worse since his son’s death and his wife’s isolation.

“Does she fare any better?”

“No.” It is all Aemond wishes to say on the matter.

While he may not want to speak of the family he had lost, Aemond knew that he would protect those he was left with every breath in his body if need be. He may not have been there for his little boy, but he would die before he let a hair on any of his remaining family members’ heads be touched. The regret of being an inadequate husband and father pricked at him like the heat from the bright blaze of the fire in the hearth, and he walked out with purpose.

He knew where he was going next. After all, his feet always carried him to her at nightfall.

When Aemond came home dripping wet from the rain that had drenched him at Storm’s End, he was convinced that he had ruined everything good that he had. He could not imagine a simple scratch on his little boy without feeling angered - how could he expect Rhaenyra to simply accept her son’s death?

He had to get them safe. He had to keep them safe. He had to keep them safe. Safe, safe, safe.

She had just left the babe with the nursemaid and come to their chambers to find a moment of quiet before her son’s inevitable crying began again. Her eyes widened when she opened the door to find her husband completely drenched, looking like he was inviting death with open arms. He may as well have.

“Aemond..” She rushed to him immediately, hands going to his damp hair and clothes. “Gods did it rain on your ride back home? Let me fetch you some clean clothes and something to dry yourself with.” He reached out to her before she could go too far, and she gasped at how cold his touch was.

It was always warm, and tonight it was not.

“Stay, please.”

“I need you to put on something warm first, Aemond. You’ll catch a chill.”

She was too distracted by his wet state to notice the tears mixed with the raindrops. He said nothing as she walked away and brought back fresh garb for him to change into. She quietly bade that he raise his arms and he obeyed, not having the strength to do anything else. Slowly, each garment fell with a wet thwack to the floor and she took to wiping all the water off of him.

His grave silence unnerved her immensely, and she knew something was wrong. She would wait for him to say it.

She dressed him in a linen undershirt and breeches and took him to his beloved chair by the fire, in hopes that it would warm him up and encourage him to tell her of what plagued him. He sat in silence for a long while as she sat cross-legged on the floor, her forehead leaning on one of his thighs while her finger drew mindless patterns on the other.

His hand always reached for her hair when they sat like this, but tonight, that was not the case. She looked up at him with inquiring eyes, and as he caught her vision with his one eye, he did not have the heart to tell her what he had done, but he had to.

“I killed Lucerys Velaryon.” His voice is hoarse and the words are choked out with difficulty, and while the weight of his actions hit him hard, it was harder to watch his sweet wife’s concerned face morph into something else entirely.

“What?”

“He was sent as an envoy. I only meant…” He gulped, and the tears fell freely once more.

She quickly lifted herself up and straddled him, holding his face in both her hands. Her fingers caught every tear that fell in quick succession. “Tell me, go on.”

“I only meant to scare him. I need you to believe me, I did not mean to kill him.”

Her husband was a proud man, and it made her stomach churn to see him sound so broken. She feared that she may not like what she was about to hear, but she had promised to be his other half for all his life, and now he needed her.

He may be fearsome, but he was not a cold-blooded murderer. He did not mean to kill him - but how much weight did his intent hold, now that the boy was dead?

“I believe you. Go on.”

“The dragons��” He let out a hoarse breath and she continued to wipe at his tears with the tips of her thumbs - softness that he right now felt very undeserving of. “Arrax breathed fire at Vhagar and she retaliated, she bit into the dragon’s neck and Luke fell, so did Arrax.”

She felt light headed with worry. How could she stomach the thought of a young boy falling to his death from the skies? How could she, when she was a mother to a little boy herself?

His uncle, Daemon, was going to come for them, Aemond was sure of that. But he could not bring himself to think of much else as he watched his wife digest all that he had told her, never once ceasing to remind him that she believed him, even if nobody else would.

When they rose, Aemond’s anger knew no bounds. The possible consequences ran through his mind as he pushed his desk onto the floor with brute force. The sharp edges of her vanity had drawn blood from the back of his hand as he moved in frustration, and she was quick to hold onto him and remind him of her presence. He was not alone, he had her.

“Take me. Take it out on me.” Aemond could not think straight, and she could not bear to see him hurt himself, any more than he already has. It is this very thought that drives her to take his hand and lay it upon her clothed chest.

He took her from behind that night, hands clutching onto her bouncing breasts. Every string that was stretched had snapped with each rough thrust into her, the sounds of skin slapping skin somehow seeming too rough that night. “We’re going to be fine, wife,” he groaned - and she did not know whom he was trying to placate - her, or himself?

“I will keep you safe, the both of you.”

When he was done with her, she was left looking ragged with dried tear tracks on her face. He wanted to apologize - it seemed as though he hurt everything he touched, and after his now dead Stong nephew, his own sweet wife was his latest victim.

She held him between her breasts that night as they both wept, at a loss for words at what he had done. She did not know how to comfort him or rid him of the guilt or paranoia that his mind now played host to.

What she did know is that her husband needed her, and that she was not going anywhere. So when he suggested sending her and their son away, fearing for her safety, she begged him to let her stand by his side.

“If something were to happen to me, there would be nobody to protect you and our boy.”

“If something were to happen to you, our son and I would much rather follow you than brave many years alone.”

He reluctantly gave in, thinking that an increased guard and his constant presence around them would be enough to keep them unharmed.

How wrong he was.

He had walked away only for a moment.

His wife had wanted to eat some cake during the night - he suspected that she was with child again. Little did he know that it was the last moment of their happy marriage. The sight that he had walked back into was something that would never fail to haunt him.

Dead guards, a whole litany of them. His wife in her bloodied white shift, holding onto their son’s decapitated body. All the light in her eyes had dimmed as he stood frozen in place, his eye widened at the harrowing sight before him.

She wailed as she clutched the corpse to her chest, with no care for the injuries on her own body, or the blood of their babe that was now mixed in with her own.

“My boy, my precious boy…”

The rest of the royal family soon followed and his mother pulled her away from the babe’s lifeless body. He fell to the floor with no one to hold him, and Aemond could do nothing but watch. Aegon’s angry calls for his nephew’s head to be brought back along with the killers slipped into one ear and slipped out the other, and he went numb as he realized that the consequences of his actions had caught up to him.

Him, he could understand. But his sweet wife, his little son? What had they done?

A son for a son.

The rational part of his mind would have argued that Luke’s death probably left Rhaenyra feeling the same tragedy that he was faced with - but he was anything but rational in that moment. His fists clenched as his knuckles met the wall, and Aegon had to physically restrain him from walking out to catch the rats himself.

“She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. Listen to me, Aemond!”

Helaena had collapsed onto the chair entirely, repeating ominous words that he did not register at all.

“Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese.”

Aegon had gone to join in the hunt for his nephew’s killers, and she kept rocking herself back and forth at the sight of the blood that now painted the walls and floors of her brother’s chambers until she was led away. Aemond stood, all alone in a pool of his son’s and wife’s blood.

When the Silent Sisters were led into the chamber by his grandfather, Aemond froze. His wife had held their lifeless son to her breast as she cried, but he could not bring himself to look at him, much less touch him.

Hours later, with patches of his own son's blood soaked through his clothes, he had gone to see her. He held her in his arms as she sobbed through the night, trying to push him away with each firm hit to his chest. Aemond shushed her over and over to no avail, holding her closer each time she tried to separate herself from him. Sometime during that night, her eyes had become lifeless; a deep abyss. The sight of it finally drove him to tears too, with his good eye becoming a glistening violet ring floating in a sea of angry red.

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins. They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment when the madness had sunk its claws into his wife.

It was right then as he held her, comforting her and apologizing like a madman for tainting her life with his presence.

The moonlight diverged through the stained glass windows that directly faced the room where she now resided. She had been kept in these chambers before their wedding, and she often spoke of how beautiful the lights were when they fell directly onto the corridors, reflecting the colors of the glass that they slid through. He wondered if she still thought the same. He wondered if she even looked.

In the day that followed their son’s death, they had burned their little boy and watched as his body was wheeled around the streets of King’s Landing for their benefit. Aemond had wanted to retch then, but he held his wife tight as the people empathized with the kind princess whose time as a doting mother had been brutally cut short.

She fared worse - she looked dead in her eyes, and he was sure she was lost on the inside too. He did not know if she even sensed his hold on her as she kept muttering their dead boy’s name in a series of weak whimpers.

Two days later, she had lost their second child. He held her from behind and rocked her gently as the blood flowed from between her thighs for hours, the babe coming out in clumps of bloodied skin, having never drawn breath. Every moment of his wife’s torture plagued Aemond’s existence, and he questioned his abilities as a protector while grieving his son and his unborn child all alone.

The Gods were cruel to him in their games. They made him watch as his son’s life was taken, and they took bits of his wife’s mind and soul with each passing day. He supposed that this was the hand that kinslayers were dealt.

It was a slow death for Aemond, and it had begun the day his son was killed. Now he had to watch as his once vivacious wife completely lost hold over all her senses, and lived in a world where he could not reach her.

On some days, she would receive him with love, as though his presence in her life had not destroyed her completely. He would be able to revel in her touch once more, if only to simply be able to remind himself that she was still alive - in body, if not soul. He missed her, his wife, his woman, his entire heart. But his actions had killed her from the inside - did he have a right to his yearning anymore? He did not want to know, for he feared that he may not like the answer.

On other days, she would be the complete embodiment of madness. She would fight the maesters and scream at them, begging for them to let her die and throw herself off the window. She would pull at her beautiful hair, blame him continuously and shriek, mourning the loss of their child.

When she was done, she'd lower her voice and murmur words into the air. Speaking to no one in particular, almost like a ghost, she'd fidget with her dress and say, "His body twitched after they hurt him. My baby boy suffered. Oh, my boy!"

He may not have wielded the knife that removed his head, but his actions caused it. He may as well have killed his son himself. Guilt was not an emotion that Aemond Targaryen knew well as a boy, but it was all he now knew as a grown man.

She would bawl and cry at him to go away. She would scream at him to leave her alone, and blame him for killing her children - and rightfully so. And though it pricked at his heart, he would come back every night.

He wonders how she is feeling tonight. He wishes she was ignorant and unaware, for he is desperate for her touch, her company. It has been weeks. He is brought back to reality when the Maester’s gown billows behind him in the night wind.

“Your Grace.” he bows.

“How is she?”

“Somewhat calmed tonight and not lucid, my prince.” The old man sighs before continuing. “The Princess continues to ask for her little prince. We have given her milk of the poppy, so she may fall asleep soon enough.”

“Hm.”

He is mildly relieved to hear that she is not herself tonight - for it allows him to relive some of their happier days.

In his hand is a book - Ten Thousand Ships, the very one that he had gifted her. He dismisses the maester and his stewards follow behind him. Aemond walks into the room with his mind steeled, ready to be brave - for himself and for her.

“Husband! Come, come!” Her cheery voice is not quite hers, and it unnerves Aemond - her words are not from her heart, and it takes everything in him to not fall to his knees and apologize once more for what he has done to her. “The Maester said our boy’s learning to walk! Did you see him? I was promised that you would bring him tonight! Where is he?”

Gone, where we cannot see him, he wants to say. But how could he, without wanting to throw himself at her feet in regret? “He is tired. All that walking has exhausted him.”

“I suppose, yes! They tried to force me to take that vile concoction once more tonight, I managed to push it away and evade them! Look!” His gaze follows her hand and sees the spilled milk of the poppy on the floor. His wife was a calm and steady woman, and now she was behaving like a child and mistreating maesters.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“You should not do that, wife. It is not proper.”

He holds her hand and kisses her knuckles, before leaning his head back to look at her. Her hair has not been combed today, and he gently turns her around to run his fingers through her hair, digits trembling at touching her once more. She could come to at any moment and remember who had caused her such distress, and then she would cry until he walked away - the very real possibility rakes at Aemond, so he remains prepared for her to push him away any time now.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

"I know. I drank it the second time. I'm sorry."

He then turns her back to face him and notices the dark rims around her empty eyes. He sighs and lets out a long, heavy breath. If he was drunk enough and she was unaware, he would fool himself into thinking that they were alright. But they aren’t.

“It is time to go to bed, wife. Will you come with me?” I love you, I miss you and I am sorry. Will you come back to me? Please?

He kisses both her eyelids and leads her to the bed in her shift. He gently helps her lay down, following her immediately as he lays next to her. She leans into his hold seamlessly and he tightens his arm around her - it hurts him how despite her madness, her penchant to seek out his touch never changes.

He takes the book from the bedside table, and she squeals. “Will you read to me tonight, husband? I do love it when you read to me. Perhaps a quiet moment between the both of us before the maids bring our son back? You know how he makes a fuss and refuses to give us a moment of quiet!” She laughs, and Aemond holds his tears back once more.

“Of course.” He kisses her temple.

He begins reading and the dry sounds of his throat lull her to sleep in his arms as he rakes his fingers through her hair. When she has completely drifted away from him, he allows himself a moment of thought and kisses her on the lips - watching as she murmurs his name.

He had taken her to wife, and sworn to protect her from any harm that may come her way. In the end, the only one she had to be protected from, was himself. He failed her, and now, he would not rest until he picked up all the pieces and put her back together.

When morning comes, she may still be unconscious of her surroundings and allow him some more time, or she may be lucid and scratch at his face until he leaves her alone. The uncertainty kills him, but he will allow himself to enjoy her tonight.

It was on this very day that he had kissed her for the first time, in the Sept, between the statues of the Mother and the Father. On this day, four years ago, they were married.

And on this day, he continues to read to her because she had asked, even when she had fallen asleep - for how could he ever deny her?

BONUS CHAPTER FOR THIS FIC, HERE.

NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!

MASTERLIST

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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 years ago

Text

Steve is pretty good at dealing with pain. Burns, scrapes, bites, bruises, he will just grit his teeth and get through it. It's almost like the more it hurts, the less he has to think about everything. But when he starts losing his hearing, there's no pain, nothing to shield him from his thoughts.

He's terrified. He already feels isolated, singled out in their small group, and of course he's concerned about not being able to respond, to live his life as he knew it, but what eventually breaks him is the smallest thing, the most insignificant, mundane thing.

He and Robin are sorting books in the Family Video and they have this unspoken ritual - whenever there is a theme song in the movie they're watching, Robin will hum it for the rest of the day, with exaggerated movements, directing the orchestra and everything. And Steve watches her one day and realizes - he will lose this. He will never hear Robin's voice again, her slightly husky and over the top renditions of whatever unlucky movie happens to play. He can't help it, his breathing becomes heavy and shaky and before he knows it, Robin is embracing him and he's trying to explain how scared he is, how he feels like his life is basically over, how he'll miss her silliness and they won't be able to talk on the phone when she leaves for college, he can't ever hear her hum anymore...

After an emotional evening and a pizza night with their favorite sitcom - with subtitles! - on, they go to work again, but Robin excuses herself for a bit, runs into the nearby store. When she comes back, she has a large sketchbook in her hand and a black marker. She starts scribbling along to the very faded melody that Steve is registering from the TV and when she hands her final work to him, he laughs and maybe cries a little. Maybe more than little.

What Robin drew for him looks like a mountain range. She created an axis for time and an axis for the "MUSICAL DRRRRAMA", indicating how intense the music is in each moment. And all of the intensity is annotated, not a single soud described, but rather how Steve and Robin still see their world, in all its silliness. "This part is mega sharp, reminds me of wanting to stab Tommy Hagan with a knitting needle", it says next to one peak. "Remember that really soggy and stale cookie we ate at your place because we were hungry? That's what it feels like" and "it's sooooo looooong and boooooring it's like Mrs. Click's class" and "the violin here is crispy. SPICY. Like the Chinese food we had last Thursday, it kind of never wants to stop burning".

It's then that Steve knows that he will be okay. There won't be phone calls, but there will be letters, so many letters with silly descriptions and drawings, nagging to practice his ASL and visits to check if he really did his homework. Robin will be better than him at it, of course she will, but even when they'll both be able to sign fluently, she will still hand him a new melody scribble now and then.

On Steve's first birthday without sound, she gives him a huge binder labelled "For my only schmuck: Steve's album". In it are tens of scribbles, all of the melodies they hummed together in the Family Video with fresh descriptions and inside jokes. And when she stands in front of all their friends, hands raised up like a conductor and under her guidance, the whole group signs "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STEVE", he realizes that sounds might have been overrated, because there were no words to describe this kind of love.

#steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #hoh steve harrington #stobin drabble #stranger things drabble #stranger things

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chirpsythismorning · 1 year ago

Text

Mike's character regression can be explained in large part by one emotion in particular: guilt

Just want to preface this by saying that, this is not Mike slander. I love this dude. In fact, I think what makes Mike such an interesting character is that a lot of his behavior throughout the series can be explained in part by previous moments, and after really looking at all these moments together, what you end up with is a pretty fucked up story.

So while some might want to take this as Mike slander, these points I'm making are a part of Mike and things he has done and said and whether they were intentionally harmful or not, it's Mike. It's all shaped him and his role in the story. The fact that we're seeing a visible shift in his behavior at all, with plenty of moments from the show to back up what brought us here, makes it compelling enough to talk about.

So, without further ado, back to our roots:

Ah yes, the infamous canon proof disputing Mike's I think my life started that day we found you in the woods, claim during his monologue. Not only that, but in this original scene from 1x02, it turns out Mike actually intended to send her away the next day (all of which El could hear Mike saying from the open bathroom door).

Mike outright calling El a weapon, again telling the others they need her because they stand no chance at getting Will back otherwise.

I wont elaborate on this now, because there is way too much to unpack that'll honestly be more worthwhile discussing further on.

For now, this is a secret tool that will help us later.

These next couple scenes right here though, are pretty painful if I'm being completely honest. The way its shot, specifically El's very visible exhaustion, accompanied by the varying priorities of others around her, leaves me feeling pretty unsettled upon rewatches.

I obviously can't remember how I felt when I watched these scenes for the first time, but I imagine I viewed them as this huge romantic moment for Mike and El (I was tricked by heteronormativity, okay?). But, again, upon rewatching them since then, I've realized I get this sort of sad feeling by the end. You'll see what I mean.

El obviously just went through something extremely traumatic. She tried to go find Will and Barb in the void, only to find Barb dead and Will presumably alive, but then slipping through her fingers at the last second (no, literally).

We then got a moment where Joyce held El while the others sat by quietly because she clearly needed a moment of comfort given what she just endured.

Then in this scene shortly after, everyone is leaving to get ready for their final attempt at saving Will.

Now, notice how not only Lucas, but also Dustin make the effort to reach out to El to comfort her affectionately after that traumatic event, with those twos' actions specifically being showcased in sequence?

Lucas, who spent the better part of the season being critical of El, is now ending the season rubbing El's shoulder to warm her up, literally soothing her to make her feel better.

Then there's Dustin, who right after Lucas' gesture makes a gesture of his own, putting his hand on her knee reassuringly, to show her he's there and he's happy she's okay.

And lastly there's Mike, who is so kindly allowing El to rest her head on his shoulder. This placement of Mike and El here is definitely a testament to the fact that Mike has vouched for El this whole time in contrast to the others and so, understandably, she put her head on his shoulder for reassurance, because out of the three of them, he's the one whose been looking out for her the most. (Right?)

Now you might be thinking that this sequence's only purpose was to show Lucas and Dustin's development with El, and that it wasn't intentional that they focused on Lucas and Dustins' priorities in this moment in contrast to Mikes'. And I raise you, this next scene.

Here we have a focus on Mike looking on to where everyone left, while the others beside him are presumably just processing what went down and taking a rest (and boy oh boy do they (El) need one).

Mike on the other-hand decides to take this moment of rest to display the most cliche and universal forms of distracted unrest known to man: he checks his watch.

Mike then stands up abruptly, causing El to fall without his shoulder there for her to rest on anymore, all while her and Dustin are looking on after him, sort of like... Okay?

It's small. It might seem insignificant. But if you actually pay attention to what this scene is trying to make you feel, after really looking at it for what it is, it's kind of sad.

In a moment that chooses to highlight the other boys' acknowledgment of El after what just happened, and not only that, but at the tale end of their final battle of the season, Mike is... distracted?

Mike, who has been presumably looking out for El more than the others in the party this whole time, is conveniently out of commission? And right now when El is looking for his reassurance the most? Mike doesn't even have a moment to say, 'Hey I'll be right back, I just want to check something. Can one of you?--', asking Lucas or Dustin to sit next to her in his place. No. Dude just stands up without even acknowledging her.

If it was any other moment in the show, under less post-traumatic circumstances for El, then I wouldn't even think much of it. But it's at this point in the story when El is essentially at her most exhausted and quite literally seeking out support from others, specifically Mike, that makes his distractedness so eery.

Again, you might still be thinking that this isn't that deep. However, I think based on the events leading up to this, and what follows right here, could quite literally hold the answer to the guilt Mike is still keeping to himself to this day.

So... How are we feeling?

Are we feeling like Mike None of you are thinking about El's wellbeing right now! She could get brain damage from using her powers too much! She's not a weapon!* Wheeler is a little bit of a hypocrite? (I told you that tool would come in handy!)

It's actually quite terrifying how similar this scene is framed to the scene in Hopper's cabin in s3, where Mike pretty much says the exact opposite. In s1 Mike goes from being one of the first people to refer to El as a weapon within the context of them using her powers to find Will, with him being completely un-attuned to the fact that she is exhausted in this moment while the others are saying El's rest and safety is the most important, to then in s3 completely flipping script and saying El was using her powers for nothing, blaming the others for treating her like a weapon and not taking her wellbeing into consideration.

It would be one thing if Mike had a little arc where he acknowledged this script flip. Because that's what it is. It is them having Mike use a word in s1 to describe El, that being weapon, only to say the others are treating her like that with that same word being used. It is them having Mike not agknowledge El's well being after overusing her powers, only to say the others aren't taking her wellbeing into consideration for overusing her powers.

And it would be one thing if Mike had spoke to El or literally anyone about how he felt like he wronged El for planning on sending her away the next day after they found her so that they could go back to looking for Will, or how he said she was a weapon that they needed in order to find Will, essentially being no better than the people she just escaped from, who also used her for her powers. But we don't get that (actually we do.. but it's not acknowledged for what it is aka survivor's guilt. It's instead seen as romantic... another tool for later...)

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think any of Mike's behavior takes away from what Mike did do for El, because yes he was kind and accepting when the others weren't. But even despite all of that, at the end of the day, he was often at the forefront of expecting El to risk her life for them, even if he wasn't outright asking that of her.

Before you freak out, No. I don't think Mike, a literal child, was capable of fathoming that El was going into these situations risking her life. She's a superhero. El's alternative was literally going back to the lab, running, or staying with Mike. This was her safest option.

After a bunch of rewatches and putting together a lot of these moments as a whole, I've come to a point where I believe that Mike's behavior throughout s1 was him thinking that because of who El was, she's already in danger at all times. That is a constant reality for her. And so why not have her help them find Will, because she is able to, all while he can also help her. And El clearly wanted to help them, because she wanted to help good people and finally do something meaningful with her powers for a change. Unfortunately, she also had to endure PTSD flashbacks almost every single time Mike and the boys had her use her powers to help find Will.

Speaking of Will, he is currently missing and possibly dead. Will also, in contrast to El (for now...), does not have any sort of superpowers.

Mike's concern over the threat of Will's livelihood is much greater than Mike's acknowledgement to the true risks El is exposing herself to each time she uses her powers to help them. That is s1 canon.

Is there times when Mike is focused on El and her well being. Absolutely! But is there also times when Mike is not showing any display of concern to El's well being in the moment, in complete contrast to the other characters around him... Also yes.

And so the events happening the way they did, with Mike himself not fully comprehending the severity of what's been going on during these high stake situations going on around him, makes sense.

And that's what makes it all the more sad that when Mike finally does realize what he's truly been asking of El this whole time, which is to risk her life for them, it's too late.

This whole scene is obviously very emotional. All of the boys are crying, but the focus on Mike calling out for El painfully is heartbreaking.

But what's even more sad to me, is that El has been sort of used to mistreatment her whole life. She's used to having to find any comfort she could get from people in her life, all the while they were using her for her powers. I mean even despite Brenner being who he was and doing what he did, she still showed these signs of wanting to love him despite it. Which is very very fucked up. But knowing what she's gone through, makes sense.

Mike on the other-hand does greatly contrast Brenner because he was one of the first people to actually treat her with genuine kindness right from the start (before he even knew she had powers), making it a lot easier for her to care for him even despite that pesky trait of using her for her powers being almost synonymous with Brenner's very similar trait.

So when she looks back at Mike, and points him out specifically before sacrificing herself, it feels like a few things at once.

It feels like her acknowledging the fact that she appreciated him specifically for taking her in and supporting her more genuinely than anyone has in her entire life.

And yet it also feels like her, either intentionally or unintentionally, acknowledging the unfortunate side affect caused by days of Mike leading the efforts to find Will, with the expectation of her to do things to achieve that, which could have all lead to her demise technically. And so now when it all comes down to it and the stakes are at their highest yet, same as the risk, she's got to a point where she believes there is no other choice but to do just that, risk her life, especially if it means saving them.

While this is happening, Mike is backtracking in real time. He is trying to get El to stop and it's because he doesn't want her to die. Obviously.

But that's the fucked up part isn't it? When he finally realized what he's been asking of her this whole time, it's too late.

Which takes us to S2 Mike Wheeler, known by many for being a boy whose been calling his true love everyday for almost a year now because he's just so in love, but is actually in fact a boy suffering the most intense form of survivors guilt, one that involves a person who genuinely feels responsible for the persons death...

But that will probably take at least another 2,000 words so I'm thinking maybe I better split this into multiple parts.

I will tease that the next part involves one specific detail in particular that I never see anyone talk about, a detail that I think, in combination with what's discussed in this post, is so important to understanding Mike's breakdown for what it truly was at the end of season 2. I will also probably do more posts beyond that for s3-4, to delve into the impacts these moments from the first two seasons have basically put in place a perfect recipe for what is currently going down.

So feel free to stay tuned for those nonsense updates.

Continued

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 2 years ago

Note

Can you do 32 from the 4th and 9 from the 3rd image? I’m thinking something with mafia Minho 🤔 Thank u babes if you do it

Skz Prompt Game

Prompts: "If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god."

"Can we just exchange three words without you pulling a gun on me?"

Member: Lee Minho

Relationship: Mafia!Family FemReader x Minho

Genre: Fluff, Light Angst

Warnings: Mentions of guns, weapons, mafia and illegal dealings, Miscarriage

You didn't show any emotion on your wedding day.

You wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

As the man who ruled the rival mafia-your future husband, Lee Minho-took your hand in his and slipped on a diamond the size of a small city in front of the priest and a few members of family, you remained stoic.

You knew this was coming.

Knew you'd be auctioned off as soon as you turned of age to the highest bidder, the rivals that had the most to offer your father in way of an alliance.

It just so happened that Lee Minho and his gang-known only as "The Kids" on the streets-happened to have all that and more.

And you were to pay the price.

********************************************************************************

"You really have to go yourself?" You ask once more, disappointment clear in your tone, as you watch your husband pack his suitcase from your perch on the edge of the bed.

Minho sighs, long and heavy, and gives you a regretful sort of look as he tucks another one of his highly expensive suits into the safety of the travel set.

"Yes. This is a huge deal that's going down, and I can't trust anyone else to handle it safely."

You groan and fall back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling through the thin gauze of the curtains that hang in elegant strips above the huge bed.

"I understand that. Doesn't mean I'm happy about it."

You hear him chuckle, and then the bed sinks beneath his weight as his knees come to rest on either side of your hips, his hands beside your head.

He stares down at you with a soft, slight smile as you hold his gaze with a half hearted glare.

"Baby." He soothes, reaching out to smooth the crinkle between your eyes, the frown on your lips. You can't help but lean into his touch. "I'll be back before you know it."

He leans over to press a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, and moves away again to resume packing.

"She's going to be incredibly disappointed you know." You try one last guilt tactic, sitting up and smoothing your dress as you glance over to Minho, who has paused to meet your gaze once more.

Something akin to regret washes across his pretty features as he sighs once more.

"I know. But it can't be helped." Zipping up the suitcase, he crosses the room and pulls you into his arms, and you relax against his warmth for a few blissful seconds while he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. "I'll be back in time for the party. I promise."

********************************************************************************

"You won't be hurt." Minho murmurs beneath his breath, sitting beside you in the back of the expensive limousine, as you pull away from the chapel and toward his family estate.

You've only heard of its grandeur.

"I can't promise you affection, but you will be well taken care of."

You scoff and continue to stare out the window, because now that the wedding is over, you can feel the anger, the pain, threatening to well up and consume you.

"Exactly what a girl wants to hear from her new husband on her wedding day." You retort back sharply, and something in Minho's eyes flashes in response.

He takes in a deep, steeling breath and holds your angry gaze.

"It's all I can offer you." He says stiffly, turning from you finally to glance down at his phone, a clear dismissal. "And I would take it if I were you. You and I both know how dangerous this world can be."

********************************************************************************

"Mommy, look!" Your daughter bounds across the large back garden and shoves a flower into your palm, and you glance down at it with a smile.

"Oh, that's pretty!" You remark, reaching out to tousle her long, dark hair, the same color as Minho's. "Where did you get this?"

She motions over her shoulder with bright eyes and a grin. "Over in the flower bed! By the tree!"

You laugh and put a finger to your lips, carefully tucking the yellow flower behind her ear. "Let's keep that our little secret, hm? I don't think Uncle Felix will take well to us tearing up his carefully curated flowers. Not when it took him so long to convince daddy to let him plant them in the first place."

Your daughter nods seriously and sits down on the bench beside you, swinging her legs as she idly observes the garden.

"Where is Uncle Felix?"

"He had to go out of town with daddy." You remark absently, smoothing a hand over her long hair as you glance over to the tree line. "Where's SuSu?"

Your daughter instantly becomes alert, leaping up from the bench and running across the garden to where she was last playing, calling for the dog.

"Suwon! Suwon! Here boy! C'mere!"

You smile and shake your head as, after a brief second, the large dark doberman appears from the trees, bounding happily toward your daughter, nub of a tail wagging wildly.

He's a good guard dog, a great one even, but the moment you had had Yeong-Ja, he had become a softie for the little girl, sticking beside her like glue, keeping her safe, but playing with her when the times called for it.

You were grateful for the loyal dog whenever Minho had to be away.

Yeong-Ja runs back over once more, Suwon close on her heels, and you stroke the large dog's head when he rests it briefly in your lap, looking up at you with bright eyes, your fingers playing with the thick, spiked collar he wears around his neck.

"Well." You stand up, grabbing Yeong-Ja's hand. "Shall we go ask cook what's for dinner?"

She nods eagerly, and you laugh, tugging her toward the house with you, Suwon trotting happily along behind.

********************************************************************************

The floor creaks behind you and you whirl, gun pulled from the bedside drawer, cocked and ready, held in front of you.

Minho stands in the doorway, his hands in his suit pockets, a look of tired resignation on his face.

It takes you longer than you care to admit to lower the gun.

"Can we just exchange three words without you pulling a gun on me?" He asks with slight amusement, taking a step into the room as you eye him warily.

It's been three months-three months since your father had given you to Minho and his gang, three months since the emotionless wedding, three months since you moved into his ridiculously huge house.

Three months, and yet, you still felt your hackles instantly rise as soon as he enters the room.

You'd been adamant about having separate bedrooms, sleeping in separate beds, and up until this point, Minho had been compliant, but you didn't know how much longer that would last.

He was bound to snap and demand an heir soon-sooner rather than later.

"I have to go away." Minho remarks, staring out the window now, down onto the garden's below, his hands behind his back.

You watch him silently and he sighs, turning to glance back at you now.

"I'll leave someone here to keep you safe obviously, but I thought I owed you the courtesy of notifying you regardless."

"How kind of you." You spit out before you can stop yourself, and Minho's eyes narrow slightly.

He takes a step toward you.

"You don't have to like me, princess, but you do have to tolerate me. And when I return-"

"You'll want to share my bed." You finish for him, and something strange flashes across his expression before he gets it back under control.

"Yes."

You shrug and look away. "It doesn't matter to me. I knew the life I was chosen for long before it came to fruition."

Minho doesn't say anything else, and after a few moments, his footsteps leave the room.

********************************************************************************

"Good night, jagi." You kiss your daughter's forehead and tuck the blanket up around her chin, before you walk to the door and flick off the light.

"Good night, mommy." She whispers back sleepily, already closing her eyes, as Suwon sighs heavily and rests his large head on the little girl's chest.

You smile to yourself and tiptoe from the room, leaving the door cracked in case the dog wants to let himself out in the middle of the night.

Your foot has barely hit the first stair, when the sound of the front door opening hits your ears, and you freeze, hands going white on the banister.

You look to the clock.

It's nearly midnight. And Minho had told you not to expect him or any of the men back until at least tomorrow.

Which means someone is in the house, someone who isn't supposed to be.

Slipping down the stairs to the second floor, you silently find the gun that is kept in the side table on the landing-Minho insists on keeping one in every drawer on every floor-and creep down a few more stairs, your eyes peeled against the darkness of the house, looking for any sign of the intruder.

The sound of a footstep from the main floor, and you raise the gun, holding it steadily in front of you as you descend, listening for another sound.

Another creak, closer this time, as you reach the bottom step.

You take in a steadying breath and turn, cocking the gun as you do so.

The light goes on in the foyer, and Minho is standing there, eyebrows arched and hands up as he realizes you're holding a loaded and ready gun in his face.

"Hello, darling."

You let out the breath you'd been holding since you first heard the door open, and drop the gun, un-readying it and tossing it on top of the chest of drawers against the wall before you throw your arms around your husband.

He chuckles, chin resting on the top of your head, and his fingers move up to stroke through your hair. "I guess I should know better than to try and sneak in this late at night without giving you warning."

You pull back to look up at him, trying to manifest a glare, but too happy to see him to do much. "Yes, you should. I could've shot you!"

Minho smirks, leaning over to kiss you, before he whispers softly against your lips, "Mmm. I love it when you talk dirty, baby."

You shove against him weakly, but he just laughs and pecks your lips once more before he pulls back, moving to finish unloosening his tie.

You realize there's blood speckling the front of his white shirt, and he must notice your gaze, because he says before you can ask, "It's not mine."

You feel relief sag your shoulders.

Minho smiles again, tugging you back up the stairs, the way you had come.

"But I could do with a long, hot bath regardless."

********************************************************************************

"I'm not going to take something you're not willing to give."

You glance up from where you're lying in the huge king bed, picking at the expensive comforter, feeling more than a little exposed in the sleep set the maids had picked out before Minho arrived home.

It's little more than negligée.

He's staring at you, hands resting on the wooden footboard, knuckles white.

He's tense, cautious, unsure. You can read it in the stiffness of his shoulders, the flexing of his fingers against the wood.

You're surprised you know him well enough to pick all those signs out.

"Why?" You question back sharply, unable to control the slight anger in your tone, the confusion. "Others have."

Minho's eyes flash dangerously at your words, and you shrink, feeling sufficiently cowed.

But then his words drip from his lips laced in lethality, dangerous, and they're not directed at you.

"If you say the word, all you will have to do is tell me their names and I will hunt them all to the corners of the earth."

You stare at him, mouth slightly agape, and watch as he flexes and unflexes his fingers in harsh, angry movements.

Something inside of your chest picks up at his obvious fury over anyone mistreating you.

Without really thinking, you glance down at the blanket covering you, and then back up to Minho.

"Are you going to take your suit off?" You ask quietly, and it's as close to an acceptance invitation as you can get in the moment.

Minho stares at you for a second, and then slowly reaches up to unknot his tie.

********************************************************************************

"I'm glad you're back." You admit softly, playing with the rings on Minho's fingers beneath the warm surface of the water, admiring the way the opalescent sheen of the bath oils reflects off his tan, scarred skin.

"Mmm." He hums in agreement, nuzzling his nose against your damp hair, breathing you in. "Me too."

"Yeong-Ja will be thrilled." You remark, leaning your head back against his shoulder to study him, a soft smile on your lips. "We didn't expect you till tomorrow."

"I know." He glances down at you, his expression softening as his eyes meet your own, and he lets out a rueful little laugh. "I've gotten soft in my old age. I used to live for the thrill of taking care of things myself, but now I just count down the minutes till I can return home to the two of you."

"Careful, Boss Lee." You tease, reaching up to push damp hair off his brow, admiring the perfect slope of his nose. Yeong-Ja had gotten the same one. "Someone will hear you talking about being weak and scheme to take you out."

Minho leans over to press a kiss to your mouth. "Never." He growls playfully, and you laugh.

Sinking down beneath the warm water, you bask in his presence for a few minutes in silence, playing idly with his fingers where they rest on your thighs, and then you ask quietly, "Did everything go alright?"

Minho sighs and rests his chin heavily on top of your head. "As well as could be expected. We had to put a few of the transfer drivers back in line, but nothing we couldn't handle."

You snuggle closer to him, pressing a kiss to his arm. "Good. I'm glad."

Minho makes a noise of agreement in his throat and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Me too."

********************************************************************************

It's taken six months for Minho to finally trust you enough to let you be part of his meetings.

Six months, and you're now standing behind his chair silently, trying to keep track of all the plans, as the men at the large table in front of you argue over their next move.

"No way in hell that'll work." Changbin declares, crossing his broad arms over his chest and glaring Hyunjin down across the table. "It just won't."

"It's better than anything you've come up with." Hyunjin argues back, and Jisung rolls his eyes, sliding a map across the table to Seungmin.

"Min, try and decode where they're gonna buy next while these two dumbasses argue?"

Seungmin nods silently and begins to type away on his laptop.

"We don't know that they won't double back like they've done before-and then, if we're waiting on the route down-"

"That's dumb as fuck! Listen to yourself, man!"

"If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god."

"Okay, okay." Minho booms, and everyone goes silent, looking to their leader.

You have to give it to him. He knows how to command a room.

"We've got the beginnings of a solid plan." Your husband announces, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a brief moment, as if he's fighting a headache. "Let's work from there and see where it takes us."

Everyone nods silently, and the men start to push back from the table, leaving the room.

Minho sighs, leaning his elbows on the large meeting table, and you try to resist the urge to go to him, to help, but your body doesn't listen to you, and you find yourself stepping forward, tentatively putting a hand on one of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry." You say quietly, and Minho turns to stare at you curiously.

"Whatever for, princess?"

You glance away, your cheeks red. "I'm sure you're stressed. My father is breathing down your neck, and now there's this problem with the shipments, and I haven't become pregnant-"

Minho's gaze hardens slightly. "You never need to apologize for things you can't control. Not to me."

You stare at him, mouth agape.

"I don't know if your father made you do that for him-knowing the bastard, I'm sure he did-but you don't ever have to grovel at my feet for mistakes that are not your own, princess."

Something warm and truthful settles over your body at his words.

Minho turns back to the plans laid across the table, a slight smile pulling at his lips now.

"But if you have any bright ideas for what the fuck I should do here, I'm all ears."

********************************************************************************

"Remember when you gave me Suwon for the first birthday of mine that we ever spent together?" You ask Minho, watching your daughter play happily in the garden with the dog in question and some of her new birthday gifts.

Minho chuckles, his arm around you, as he glances over at you with a smirk. "Of course I remember. I hated him for the first year and a half."

"You did not!" You protest, ribbing him in the side, even as he laughs and pins your hand between the two of you easily. "You just put up a front."

Minho rolls his eyes good naturedly. "That dog shit on our carpet and ruined more shoes than I could count."

"He was a puppy!" You complain, but you're biting back a smile.

"A very expensive puppy, who ruined very expensive shoes." Minho retorts right back, an amused look in his dark eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." You wave him away, sniffing and turning to watch Yeong-Ja put a sun hat on the long suffering dog trying to nap beside her in the shade. "But he's a good dog now. You have to admit."

"Maybe." Minho remarks idly, gaze going to your daughter and the dog beneath the tree. "Yeong-Ja loves the damn mutt, and that's good enough for me."

********************************************************************************

Felix finds you first after the maids had mentioned not seeing you all day, curled up in the middle of the bed, sobbing silently.

Minho had been away on some business, but the minute Felix called him, he made it home in record time.

When he bursts through the bedroom door not twenty minutes later, you can't even bring yourself to look at him, curled beneath the comforter, your arms wrapped around your middle.

Felix hadn't touched you, he hadn't dared, but he'd stayed at the side of the bed until Minho arrived.

"Don't touch her." Minho commands almost wildly and Felix steps back, holding his hands up in obvious compliance.

"Call a doctor." He barks out at the retreating man, and Felix leaves the room without another word.

The bed sinks under Minho's weight, and you shuffle further beneath the safety of the blankets.

"Princess. Look at me."

You hesitate, but do as he says, and Minho's feral expression of worry softens slightly as your teary gaze falls on his.

Immediately, the walls you've been building up crumble, and you're crying again.

"I'm so sorry, Minho. I don't know what happened-"

Minho doesn't even bother shucking off his shoes or his suit coat, he slides into the bed beside you, beneath the cover of the blankets, and tugs you into his arms, stroking your hair methodically as you continue to sob.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay."

"But there's so much blood-" You whimper out, and you don't dare to look beneath the blanket for fear of what you'll see.

"I know." Minho soothes, brushing the hair back from your forehead, as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head. "But the doctor will be here soon."

"Minho, the baby, I swear I didn't know, I swear it-" You're hysterical now, and everything hurts-your body, your mind, your soul-and Minho is there, strong and steady, stroking your hair, tugging you against his chest, whispering reassurances.

"I know, baby. It's okay. It's going to be okay."

********************************************************************************

You're sitting in the kitchen, watching Minho help Yeong-Ja make pancakes, when it hits you.

This life is nothing like what you thought it'd be.

And yet, its more than perfect.

Yeong-Ja laughs as Minho swipes batter across the tip of her nose, and Suwon excitedly barks around their feet, begging for scraps and happy to be included.

Minho glances over to you across your daughter's head, and gives you a wink.

He was right. It all turned out okay.

And in this moment, you're thankful that nothing ever worked out as planned.

It's even better.

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brawlingdiscontent · 3 months ago

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CW: Mentions of death and suicide, spoilers for all of Interview with the Vampire season 2

In season 2, episode 5, “Don’t be afraid, just start the tape,” a number of key questions circle around Daniel and Louis: Why did Louis pick Daniel to go home with him? Why did he ultimately save Daniel from Armand? This post unpacks these through a close reading of the episode and explores how they shed light on 2022 Louis’ character arc. (AKA, I decided to be a huge dork about this episode!)

Near the top of the episode, Daniel raises his “outstanding questions” about 1973 with Louis: “...like why you talked to me in the first place?” He doesn’t buy Louis’ unsatisfactory and avoidant answers, but Louis succeeds in dodging his questions with another – “What’s the next thing you remember?”

In the flashback, we see Louis reject Daniel’s sexual proposition because, as 2022 Louis tells Daniel, “you offered something off the menu.” But what, exactly, is that?

Louis’ problem is his inability to examine or work through the massive amount of pain he carries, relying instead on various strategies of avoidance (which, for example, form the spine of his Paris life). The result is Louis’ dissociation and separation from himself. In 1973, the resulting internal pressure has culminated in a self-destructive spiral (128 boys) from which Louis desperately needs an outlet—which leads to what present-day Daniel describes as a “floundering” Louis, “eager to spill” “tape after tape of emotional upchuck”—burning with the need to vent the pain held inside and repressed for so long.

Later Louis tells Armand, “the ten hours I spent with that boy were more exciting, more fascinating than decades spent with you!” which Armand mishears as Louis saying that DANIEL is fascinating (and obsesses over this—more on Armand later). But what Louis actually says is the hours spent together were exciting and fascinating, in other words, the experience Daniel afforded, the interview. So what was this experience?

While the interview is valuable, not just any interview or interviewer would do the trick. Daniel is more than ”an eager black hole” absorbing others’ stories, and the experience is more to Louis than just having a listening ear.

The key, surprisingly, lies at the point where Louis snaps. Deep in reflection and depression, Louis tells Daniel that after Claudia set off on her planned Europe trip he thought about killing himself, staying in the park until the sun came up. And instead of empathizing Daniel gets mad:

Daniel: “Are you kidding me? What, you were just gonna end it!? I mean, what about life? Like, joyrides and night swimming, and marriage, and cancer, and all of that till the death rattle? I mean we gotta carry all this shit and you had a ticket out and you were just gonna throw it away?..... you were given the gift, and I’ve been hearing you bitch the night about it.”

Upon Louis’ answering outrage, Daniel adds: “I mean, you don’t understand the meaning of your own story.”

While, to be clear, Daniel also doesn’t know the meaning of Louis’ story and his take on it is pretty bad (the meaning is ‘make Daniel a vampire??’) The provocation within these words and his call to life are very valuable. When Louis examines his existence he only finds meaning in pain, which makes him afraid to look closer and makes death seem the only viable escape. Daniel, even with all his struggles, affirms life through its challenges and prompts Louis to interrogate his own narratives about his story, which fixates on the burdens of vampiric existence.

Meanwhile, in Louis’ immediate environment, the only thing Armand knows how to affirm is death, which we soon watch him try to coax Daniel into. (Not taking sides on Armand, here. I think both Armand lovers and haters can agree that whatever else he may be he is a Sad Little Muffin). Throughout season two Armand repeatedly discourages Louis from engaging with his pain. For one brief example, in 2.1 when Louis cries when discussing Claudia with Daniel, Armand calls for a break and tells Louis he's ‘lost control of the interview’. I think we can read multiple motivations into Armand’s actions: that he’s intervening both for Louis’ sake as he’s afraid that confronting the pain will kill him (as it almost did that night in 1973) AND that he doesn’t want his lies exposed— he’s a complex creature.

Figuratively, for Louis’ arc, Armand represents fiction and illusion. That’s what the theatre’s about, and his big-boss persona hiding a fragile gremlin, and even his ‘Rashid’ disguise. He generally prefers pleasing fantasies and fictionalized narratives—including wilfully ignoring the reason that Louis is with him in 2022 (the name, unspoken in their home for 23 years)—to painful truth. In this respect and others, he is the exact counter to Daniel (which makes them such a fascinating pair).

Where Armand is death, Daniel is life. Where Armand is illusion, Daniel is truth. By offering the opposite of Louis’ current environment, life and truth, and giving him permission/encouragement to address his pain, Daniel becomes a source of fascination that Armand can’t pin down. (And how could he figure out that it’s Daniel’s joy for life and zest for truth that’s the source of Louis’ fascination, when Armand, himself, has little of his own.)

However, Louis doesn’t understand the gift that Daniel offers him in the moment. Instead, injured by the provocation, he lashes out and attacks Daniel. It’s what happens later, in the fight with Armand, that cracks things open for him.

Louis and Armand’s fight is the emotional equivalent of them digging their fingers in each other’s open wounds. One of the last things that Armand says to Louis before the latter runs onto the roof is: “...[Claudia] didn’t love you, not like he did. Not like I have.” Louis says, “I know. I know! Yes. I know. Thank you for saying it. It’s all creeping back…” And then after some more raving and a, “She’s calling me”, now high off his mind from Daniel’s drug-laced blood, Louis runs onto the roof.

Louis running out into the daylight is not so much a deliberate suicide attempt as it is an externalization of his pain, triggered by the memories. His burnt and charred body actualizes the pain that he always carries inside, like a festering wound, but is only now facing.

While in this painful moment of (literal) exposure, Louis is living out the show’s tagline “memory is a monster” an alternate tagline could also be drawn from it – “the truth, even if painful, will set you free’—which Louis comes to recognize. His pained “thank you for saying it” to Armand after the latter's devastating remarks about Claudia is about Louis’ need to confront the pain. I’m not at all saying that Claudia didn’t love Louis (even Armand’s wording modifies this “not like he did. Not like I have”), but rather that Armand’s words, combined with Daniel’s assertion that Louis doesn’t know the meaning of his own story, draw attention to the fact that the narrative he’s been crafting for himself is one that both preserves his pain, and avoids engaging with or working through it. (Which will eventually lead to bigger discoveries like “I didn’t realize it was a gift”.)

Despite the horrific experience of being burned, as he lies in bed recovering Louis finds that the remembering is worth it, making him realize the value of Daniel’s questioning—and feel the need to return the gift by saving Daniel’s life, where only a few days before he would have drained him had Armand not intervened.

Daniel doesn’t need to live as a testament to Louis and Armand’s relationship—that’s just the bullshit Louis tells Armand to get him to go along with it. Daniel’s high off his mind, but his instincts have helped Louis to see that Louis’ own is one of the “stories that need telling,” and handed him the key he needs to move through his grief. My favourite little detail about this scene is the light hanging above Daniel’s head as Louis offers his pep talk. Daniel sheds light for Louis, so Louis, in exchange, offers him a different kind of metaphorical light: words for when things get tough. They offer each other mutual support (best bros!!)—in a way that Louis’ two hubbies have so far been unable to do.

Unfortunately, when Armand wipes Louis’ memories of this encounter, the guiding light Daniel offered is gone, too—instead going on to become a central part of Louis' season two character arc once the memories are recovered.

The question then emerges—if Daniel’s speech was so valuable and healing, why the memory wipes?

There’s two options: Louis may have recognized the value of what Daniel offered but have still been unprepared to examine his pain, and so asked Armand to erase the memories. The other option is that, Armand, worried about another suicide attempt and Louis leaving him, took away that choice for him by erasing the memory. (What really strikes me here are the parallels between Armand and Lestat. Lestat kidnaps Claudia and threatens to kill her to prevent Louis from leaving him but also out of a desire to save Louis’ life, given his despair at Claudia’s absence. Armand arguably operates in the same way. Both do messed up things for somewhat pure as well as selfish reasons).

I think what actually happened could be somewhere in the middle of these two options—Armand manipulating/convincing Louis into erasing the memory, and a pained, still-healing Louis agreeing. And then of course, in typical Armand fashion, when the topic comes up, he dodges accountability with a, ‘But it was your idea, babe.’)

And yet, we see the effectiveness of Daniel’s intervention through the progress they make in the new interview session and once Louis recovers these memories in 2022—for example, we see Louis go from torturing Daniel for probing too far into Claudia, to facing deeply painful memories of her and acceding to Lestat’s version of the story of Claudia’s turning.

As a form of summary, we actually see this whole dynamic I’ve detailed play out in the beginning of the episode in Dubai (and that’s what’s so perfect about the writing!!)—when Daniel says ‘grab that’ and Louis asks about what he’s grabbing:

Louis (recorded): “Funny thing, trying to remember what occupied one’s time, when one was ignorant of the plotting around him.” Daniel: It’s a thing with syntax, I see it a lot. The impersonal pronoun ��one’—one’s time, one didn’t—becomes the third person ‘him’. Stops being ‘I’ or ‘me’. Louis: And that indicates what? Daniel: You’re circling something, you’re getting close to something you want distance from. Language as a chicken exit on a roller coaster. Armand: Or it’s daytime and a vampire of Louis’ age is fighting the narcoleptic pull of the sun.

It’s the same ditty - Louis dissociates, Daniel identifies the pain point, and Armand tries to change the subject.

What’s lovely, then, is how this little exchange is prologue to the past playing out yet again the present. And so it comes to pass a few episodes later that Daniel uses his skills as a “bright young reporter with a point of view” to once again shine a light for Louis, getting him to see past the pain, and exposing the truth (Daniel voice: He didn’t save you, Lestat did!)

In conclusion: Best bros 4 eva!!

Thanks for reading! Medal for you, if you got this far!

#interview with the vampire #iwtv meta #iwtv season 2 #danlou #brawlingdiscontent #tumblr I wrote you an essay #There may not be an appetite for giant essays in this fandom #which is totally fine - but I’ve written one anyway because I’m stubborn and write for myself!#for the young'uns - the subtitles are references to cassette tapes and related technologies #iwtv edit

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oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse · 2 years ago

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Mischief

Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Summary - Request for “ahahaa the animagus thing has given me ideas for a good write up, Natsai shows Sebastian a certain type of polyjuice for making fun of her Animagus form and challenges him to be one for the day to see what he'd become, but he stuck like it until it wears off so with how you said he'd be Seb could just be making the most of it, but he messes with MC and eventually she finds out or something before or until he poofs back"

Word Count - 1,459

Warnings - none

A/N - I hope this is okay, it felt very hard to write about being an animal tbh

Unbeknownst to you, Sebastian was just barely holding his guts in after drinking a vile potion he and Natsai brewed up. He was a little bit scared about what would happen, but if anything went wrong she would at least be aware of the situation to help him.

He felt an intense pain go through him and he clutched at his head. He tried to focus on breathing, Natsai had said it would probably hurt, but he immensely regretted accepting her dare now. As he opened his eyes he definitely noticed his line of sight was no longer the windows in the room. He seemed to be eye level with the legs of the desk in the abdandoned classroom.

Merlin, he thought. He felt weird. He started to realize he was much smaller and on four legs. He attempted to get a look at himself and just some cream colored fur. When he tried to use his vocal cords he scared himself when a gentle bark came out.

He was completely unsure of what to do with himself now. Truthfully he hadn't talked through details with Natsai at all. He took the potion she created for him, assuming it wouldn't last longer than a day, but now he didn't know what to do with it.

He made his way out of the room, taking in the sensation of the paws he now had on the stone floor. She had waited for him outside the room to keep watch and make sure he didn't get trapped in there with no way out.

"Oh my god, you really drank it."

Sebastian looked at her helplessly, unable to convey any of the emotions he felt when she said that.

She crouched down and pet him on the head which he couldn't deny felt nice.

"Off you go little pup. I'll be seeing you later."

He barked at her when she walked away and she couldn't contain her laughter, but just kept walking, leaving him to his own devices. He really had no idea what to do now especially in this huge castle at a view he'd never seen it before.

He decided to walk around and explore, deciding that maybe there were some places he could get into that he hadn't previously.

You were having a rather hectic day and were definitely ready to get back to the common room and relax. You weren't expecting to round the corner to somebody's dog eating a stolen treacle tart. Dogs just weren't a pet anyone had at school, they weren't self-sufficient enough and what you were witnessing was a prime example.

"What..."

You approached the animal carefully just for it to grab it's treat and jump back in surprise, looking up at you. The dog was medium-sized, but quite fluffy. It looked so scared that you felt bad for it.

You put your hands under its belly and scooped it up. It was awkward to carry, but you didn't want to leave it there. You kept going on your way to the common room, not carefully avoiding other students and strategically placing your robes over the dog.

Once you made it in you sighed in relief as you put the dog on the floor.

"What in the world am I going to do with you?" You decided you would ask around about it, but for now it seemed content to finish scarfing down it's tart.

It took a seat on the floor, staring up at you and you reluctantly patted the sofa beside yourself. You really weren't a dog person and this wasn't exactly how you saw your day going. When the dog jumped up and nuzzled at your hand you couldn't resist pulling it against you to cuddle.

It wasn't as abhorrent as some other dogs you had been around. You adjusted yourself to press your face against the fluff and were really confused. It almost smelled like Sebastian. You didn't want to admit that you enjoyed being around him enough that you were used to his scent and actually felt comforted by it, but it was the truth.

You sighed and closed your eyes, doing your best to let go of the ink you spilled all over your homework or the cloak you ruined. You just sank into the animals fur and drifted into a peaceful nap in the common room.

Sebastian was on cloud nine. He didn't mind being a dog very much especially if he was going to be your dog. The sensations were nothing like if he were a human right now, but your hands, hair, and face on him were warm and perfect. It wasn't long before he relaxed with you and fell into a sleep himself. It seemed like a decent enough way to spend the time that he had no clue what to do with.

Sebastian woke up completely disoriented upon remembering he was currently a dog. And now he was being carried in your arms, up the stairs of the common room. He had no idea how long you were both out on the couch, but he did begin to feel strange as you were clearly taking him to your room.

It seemed to be early enough in the day that nobody else was present. You gave him a scratch on the belly before placing him on the ground. You opened up your night stand to pull out some snack crackers you had to give to him while you tried to figure out what to do in the meantime.

He ate them greedily suddenly realizing how hungry he was. He must have been this way for hours now, was it really going to last 24 hours? What if you tried to feed him real dog food? He whined at the thought and it made you look down at him.

"I'm sorry buddy, that's what I have for now. I'll figure something else out and take you back to where you belong."

You yawned and stretched, hanging your cloak on one of your bed posts. As he finished his small meal he gazed up at you and all sorts of thoughts rushed through his head. You were in your thin camisole, somehow having shed the layers of your vest and blouse in record time.

He barked at you, not knowing what else to do to try and get your attention. He was torn between wanting you to stop, but also wanting to continue watching you. It wasn't like he could tell you what he wanted either way.

You picked him up once more, smiling at him and holding him in front of you. He felt as if he would fall and braced his paws on your chest, the squishy flesh of your chest just underneath of him now.

"Don't worry, if I can't figure out where you go I'll take you under my wing for a little bit and we can have some more naps."

You had no time to process what was going on as you blinked and suddenly were not holding a dog anymore. All of a sudden Sebastian was in front of you red faced and with his hands right on your chest. Your eyes went wide and you felt mortified.

"Sebastian?!" You shoved him back and covered your face in embarrassment. You tried to find words to say, but you had way too many questions and you were tempted to kick him right in the trousers.

"Uhm...er....I can explain?" His voice cracked at the end of his statement and you just took a seat at the edge of your bed.

"Yes, please. Why are you standing there in place of the dog I just had?"

He tried to focus, but his eyes wandered down to your chest and you groaned, crossing your arms harshly.

He cleared his throat, "Right. Natty and I got into it about being an Animagus. And she said I wouldn't last a whole day as one and I—"

You put your hand out and shook your head, "I've heard enough. What am I supposed to do with you in here? You are not supposed to even be up here."

He eyed you cautiously before wiggling his eyebrows towards you and lowering his voice, "Well I can think of a few —"

"Nope! No." You were already humiliated and you couldn't take anymore.

"Do you have your wand?"

He felt around in a sudden panic before pulling it from a pocket in his robe and held it up to you triumphantly.

You stood up and pushed on his shoulder.

"Then get out!"

"No, but wait, I—"

You continued to push him until he was out of the door and you slammed it in his face despite his protests.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader #sebsatian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x oc

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statelysapphic · 1 year ago

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Letters to Emily

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Summary: When Ian Doyle takes away the one person you love, you find solace in writing her letter.

Warnings: Typical talk of Emily being dead. Hurt. Let me know if I missed something<3

A/N: Hi friends! It’s been a while. I’ve been working on this for a while, and idk how I feel about it. I very lightly edited this. Feedback is appreciated as always. Ao3 Link. Enjoy!<3

July 26, 2011

Emily,

I accepted the job. I’m not sure what would piss you off more though: the fact that it’s a desk job or the fact that it’s in Phoenix and I’m leaving Quantico. Leaving the team. I know you’d tell me that I’m making a huge mistake but it’s just too painful.

JJ brings me coffee every morning, just like you did, and even though I know she means well, it’s a painful reminder that you will never bring me coffee again. When I look up from my desk in the bullpen to see the empty one across from me, I’m reminded that I won’t be able to watch you work anymore. I loved watching you pour over files, watching the gears turn in your head. Putting the pieces together and catching the bad guy. You were brilliant.

Emily paused as her vision blurred, the burning sensation of tears threatening to spill catches her attention and shifts her focus. She was angry. Angry at Doyle for forcing her into this mess. Angry at JJ for not telling her that you transferred. Angry at Hotch for even approving your transfer request. Angry at Derek, Spencer, and Penelope; Did they even try to convince you to stay? She took a deep breath, and then another. As she felt her heart rate return to normal, she wiped the tears away from her cheeks and continued reading.

Everything here is a painful reminder of you. Everything. I walk past a framed photo of you every single day and it guts me. Every single time. I can’t keep doing it, so I’m running. I know you’d be so disappointed in me. Virginia isn’t home without you, Em. It stopped feeling like home when JJ told me you “never made it off the table.” I don’t think I’ll ever find your feeling of home again.

I’m not sure how to tell the team about the transfer. Maybe I’ll buy them a round after this case and break the news to them then. Booze and karaoke should soften them up, right?

I don’t think they’re going to take it well. I just hope they skip the guilt trip.

I hate to end this on a sad note, so I will say that I think Arizona will be good for me. Lots of sunshine and wide open spaces. New people, new experiences. I actually think I’m excited, even though I feel guilty for it. I suppose that will get better with time. I don’t know if I’ve told you this, the one item on my bucket list is to go rockhounding out west. Maybe I’ll treat myself once I get settled.

I miss you so much, Em. But I love you even more. Always.

Emily refolded the letter and slid it back into its envelope. As she placed it on the coffee table in front of her, she finally allowed herself to cry. She had done everything in her power to protect you from Doyle and her past. Although you were physically safe, it was clear from your letters that the emotional toll was severe. She was only about halfway through the stack that she found in your bedside table, and she still had three months worth left to read. She knew she wouldn’t finish by the time you got home, but that was okay.

The raven haired woman sighed, picking up the next letter in the pile.

August 12, 2011

Emmy,

Fuck I miss you today. I wish you would’ve been here to ground me though that. Or kick some ass for me. The movers were nice enough to break my bed frame while bringing it up the stairs and then denied doing it. I watched him drop it, babe. I wasn’t even mad until he denied it. Don’t worry, I called the manager and received a full refund for the trouble.

I wish you were here to cuddle on this couch with me. I miss the way you’d hold me. I felt untouchable when I was in your arms. I think you’d like this new apartment though. The master bedroom has a killer view AND a balcony. It also has plenty of south facing windows for my houseplants, and room for many more. My collection has grown exponentially since you’ve seen it last. As odd as it sounds, they’ve helped me through this.

Sorry for the short letter today. Who knew moving halfway across the country would be so tiring? Could’ve fooled me. I love you, Emily. Always.

Emily chuckled lightly at your sarcasm, but soon felt the tears return.

Sadness began to fade within Emily, and anxiety soon took its place. She was unsure of how you would react when you came home after a long day at work to find your not-actually-dead partner sitting in your living room, reading your private letters, no less. Sure, they were technically addressed to her, but she knows you never thought anyone would read them. Maybe this wasn’t the best way to do this, but Emily vehemently rejected all help that the team offered. Hotch offered to call your Supervisor to have them sit you down to talk you through it. JJ nearly begged Emily to help in some capacity, already feeling immense guilt over the situation. Though, she almost let Rossi accompany her when he offered, and she was beginning to regret not doing so.

The regret faded almost instantly as Emily heard a key in the front door. Her heart rate increased and her chest became tight. The reality of the situation had settled in for Emily, and the uncertainty was paralyzing. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, a sorry attempt to calm her nerves, as she braced herself to face you. She heard the door shut, followed by footsteps that grew louder and louder until there was silence. Emily didn’t dare look up. Even as she heard the loud clatter of what she assumed were your keys colliding with the hardwood apartment floor.

“E… Emmy?”

#emily prentiss x reader #wlwfic #wlw fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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whumpshaped · 1 year ago

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hey i’m really sorry if this is dumb but do you ever feel bad about enjoying whump? if so, how do you deal with it? i’m having a hard time with liking it. i love reading it but it occasionally makes me feel like a terrible person

its not dumb! i have some disorders that make it hard for me to feel bad abt stuff just for moral reasons alone, but i do get the terrible feeling sometimes when im afraid others will think im a terrible person lol if that makes any sense- so yeah i get the shame around it. i was lucky enough to be the quirky fun guy anyway so having slightly stranger interests wasnt a big deal for me.

this got very long bc i always have many thoughts on this

let me just start this by saying u totally dont have to feel bad for liking it. at all. everybody tends to like some form of whump, even if they dont call it that. the middle aged christian woman reading her 100th romance novel packed with fucking angst is an avid enjoyer of emotional whump in my book. and the guy who jokes about whump enjoyers being crazy and then turns around and watches marvel movies with blood and beat up heroes in it, well-

humans are just fascinated with pain. physical, emotional, all of it. it's just how we are, i think. we love to explore pain in fantasy, through characters separate from us, while we sit in our room comfortably (controlled danger! like rollercoasters). it can be cathartic. it can be how we find and understand ourselves. it can be comforting to know hey, this character went through something like that, that means the author must have some experience with it. there's at least one other human who gets me.

enjoying/reading/writing whump can be a perfect outlet, like hitting a punching bag repeatedly. it can be how someone digests their own trauma. it can just be a kink thing. it doesn't have to have deep moral things attached to it, sometimes seeing fictional characters hurt just tickles the brain and that's that. it doesn't matter, because it's all fictional, it doesn't hurt anyone. unless your preferred media is like, literal hate speech and propaganda against real life people, (in which case it DOES hurt ppl), there's literally nothing wrong with looking at a character being beaten and going "hey, thats cool".

also i will never not say this but even the fucken bible is straight whump and no one will ever change my mind. i tried to be a good christian and what did i find? whump.

also, there's like... a huge portion of people who read whump for the comfort of it. yes the character goes through shit, yes it's horrible, but guess what, they come out on the other side unquestionably changed but still worthy of recovery. they find peace, they heal, they find friends and family, they're comforted and listened to. that's something a lot of people read whump for. there's a reason it's called hurt/comfort. and there's also a very good post about how so many of us read it because the whumpees' trauma is always acknowledged. maybe not in the story, but we as readers understand that they went through some shit, and thus their trauma is always validated in some way. that can be a comfort as well, in a world where so many people's issues get brushed under the rug and ignored and overlooked and straight up invalidated.

but even if you're not into the comfort aspect (which i wasnt for a long time!!!!! i was strictly here for the hurt!!!!!!) you're not some sort of monster for it. i'd say quite the contrary. i'd say if you regularly engage with media like this, where the character's emotions are laid out so bare, and explored so deeply, you're more in tune with your own emotions too. i couldve punched holes in walls like some people i know (i have anger issues), but instead i grabbed my laptop and wrote about a character being beaten to a pulp. no damage to person or property. done. others read it and enjoyed it, and i even got serotonin from likes and reblogs, which lifted my mood, so that was a whole net positive.

seriously look at the most popular media too. it's whump. always has been. a good friend of mine whos a little weirded out by some of the gore i write is OBSESSED with game of thrones for example. and he recommended it to me because hey i love bloody stuff dont i? and i loved the torture scenes and he loved to hate and be enraged and a little grossed out by them. we enjoyed the series together. neither of us was terrible for it.

all this to say, you're not the odd one out. even if your interests count as more "taboo", like some of mine, unless you go out there and punch someone in the face, youre good in my books. and again, even punching someone in the face can be morally neutral or positive between consenting adults so. HUMANS JUST ENJOY EXPLORING PAIN. THATS MY HOT TAKE FOR TODAY.

thank u for coming to my ted talk

#asks #i hope u find peace in regards to ur interest in whump #because the thing is. if u had a good friend who has been nothing but kind and helpful to everyone around #but then it came out that they enjoy reading gorey horror stories #would u actually say they were then a bad person?#give urself some grace. im sure ur a good person. like. consciously. putting in effort to be good #and thats what matters

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bronx-bomber87 · 2 years ago

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I have decided to rewatch the entire series over the hiatus with reviews. Whether anyone reads these will come with time haha but either way I’m doing it cause I think it’ll be fun with having s5 done and going back I’ll see things with totally different POV. Will credit all gifs I use to their original owners at the end of my reviews. All the gif makers in this fandom are the real MVPs ❤️ These reviews will mainly center around Chenford and development of Tim and Lucy through out the series , but I will throw in bits about the show as a whole too. Because I do love it as a whole as well. These may be long cause I have a lot to say haha anyway whoever sticks around and reads it I love you haha feel free to comment on these posts as well. Would love that. Alright here we go. Let us start where it all began the Pilot.

Some backstory like to add here for me. I’ve been with this show since it got green lit by ABC. I was a huge Nathan Fillion fan and wanted to follow him to his next show. Also I loved Eric from my teenage years. So my sisters were obsessed with Days of Our lives as teens. I had no interest in it till Eric entered the arena. I thought he was (and still is BTW) one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen. I was very interested in watching DOOL after that LOL if you didn’t know that tid bit about him before now you know. His name was Rex and he was shirtless quite a lot and had my rapt attention as a 14 year old girl. Lmao

Anyways Nathan and Eric were the reasons I started this show. I was excited Nathan had a new show and Eric was a bonus for me. I was so excited I remember watching the pilot on my phone during my lunch in the pool room of my job at the time. The pilot had me captivated and I knew this was going to be a great show.

First off like to start with I miss Nathan with some meat on his bones. I know he has to be in wicked good shape for this role. I just miss his ‘Castle’ form from s1.

Second like to talk about my girl Lucy Chen. Her characters entrance into the show is my fav of the pilot. Lucy has such BAMF intro. The ‘hot shot’ right off the bat. I will always love her opening appearance. That confident bad ass is what Tim sees in her day one. Why he’s so damn hard on her. She just doesn’t see that in herself it just yet. But hell of a start for her.

Then we have our first glimpse into Chenford. To that lightning in a bottle chemistry. Doing that thing Eric and Melissa do so damn well. Their silent communication with just their eyes and expressions. Saw this look between them and I was a goner.

‘Officer Bradford gets our hot shot ‘ He most definitely did in more ways than one. Has no idea how his entire world is about to shift with her in his life. I think he was very impressed with her. Thought she was a ‘hotshot’ because of the arrest that morning. But he couldn’t let her know or see that. Especially not on her first day with him and at this point in time ever.

Ah Tim s1- so very guarded his walls so high the Great Wall of China is put to shame. To me s1 Tim is a man in pain and its exuding out of him with every action he makes. He has no emotional support or outlet and it shows. It’s why Lucy entering his life was the best thing for him. Shook him out of his walking pain/anger. We get to see the first glimpse of the ‘Tim Tests’ Lucy is to endure.

She’s not even two seconds into her time with him before this occurs. He’s grilling her already. So hard on her right out the gate. Because he saw something in her. He was testing her in the harshest way. Being so hard because he was hurting not that a first time viewer would know that. Re-watching s1 Tim the man truly is hurting and lashing out with everything he does. He so damn gruff , angry and guarded, that he comes off like a tool cause well he was at this point.

You aren’t supposed to like him right now IMO. You only see him as this insensitive jerk. You have no more information at this point than this current impression . When you know his whole story rewatching him like this. All I see is a radioactively angry and hurt man. You’re not supposed to like him right here and now. He’s coming off as unreasonable grump of a man. Especially so when Lucy fails his first Tim Test. Which leads us to the gas station scene.

The ‘punishment’ he gives her just another test. To him it’s his way of proving to himself he’s right about her. He already knows she can take care of herself. He wanted to see it in action and Lucy delivers in spades. The pride is written all over his handsome face when she wins her fight. Then Isabel shows up…

Eric KILLS me in this scene. The way his eyes tear up. His whole body is trembling. You can hear his bated breath as he speaks to her. He goes from gruff T.O. to concerned husband in a flash. We get our first look into him as a character. That he’s more than just this hard ass T.O giving Lucy a hard time. That there is something going on behind the scenes for him and it’s deep.

I applaud Eric for this scene we get to see him become human and vulnerable for the first time. Not only that but be those things around Lucy for the first time. She’s already soft for him when she gets the glimpse into him as a person. Says she promises she won’t tell anyone. He quickly resolves it with his sharp reply to her saying ‘ Damn right you won’t’. He’s mad at himself for letting Lucy see even a glimmer of vulnerability. Can’t show her one damn crack in his rough T.O. exterior. (yet…). Pilot does such a good job setting up their dynamic, of everyone’s really but theirs is my focus of course in these reviews.

Lucy probably thinks he’s out to make her life hell. When really he’s seeing potential in her. As seen in the previous scene at the gas station. He’s hurting so naturally he’s going to throw himself into work. Not let Lucy waste this potential he sees in her. Because work and training her is something he can absolutely control unlike the situation with Isabel. We get to see Lucy apply one her lessons in their next scene together.

Tim kicking her out of the car earlier (Which at the time I’m sure she loathed )him doing so save ultimately ends up saving his life. When he gets shot and she’s able to relay where they are and get him to safety. Also how she defends them both until backup arrives. Reinforcing what he sees in her in the first place. She protects herself and Tim like a pro.

Some side notes I’ll probably make each ep. Probably non Chenford related. I always forget how much I loved Captain Zoe Anderson- she was only in the show for a short time but made a massive impact. She was such a fierce leader putting Grey in his place and her POV on Nolan.

Also Lucy being with Nolan in beginning. Even when first started watching. I was like nope. Don’t like this. They just didn’t work. I hate it every time I re-watch it I hate it LOL but it does show her pattern of things before Tim. Such as taking on relationships she knows will never work out. I.e. Nolan. Because she isn’t ready for such commitment or projects like Chris. Well that’s all she wrote for the pilot. Was fun to write this up. Will continue to do so through out the hiatus. 😊

Gif credit to tim-lucy

Burning Blake

The rookie central

Hamburger heroes

Chenford source

Thesweetnessandthesarcasm

rookielucychen

#Caitlin rewatches The Rookie.#chenford #chenford hiatus #Tim x Lucy #the rookie #s1 #1x01 pilot #tim bradford #lucy chen #lucy x tim #Eric winter #melissa o’neil #otp: doing my job

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kiss-my-freckle · 2 months ago

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HI, which are your top 10 scenes of tvd season 6?

I love a lot of their Delena scenes lol

The cupcake scene. Their kiss combined with this scene are written on the opposite side of 3x10 and 3x11, so you might as well just imagine this scene at the end of 3x11. Here, Elena basically gives Damon permission to kiss her any time he wants. This scene is perfect for "spontaneous" Damon.

The moment Elena basically told Damon it should've been him in 3x22. They're written alongside Tyler and Liv in this episode. The only difference is that Damon had time to work through the pain of her choice. Tyler's wound is still fresh. This is my favorite Delena kiss because of the scene in its entirety. They're written around the quote, "If you love someone, let them go. If they come back, they're yours." Elena always finds her way back to Damon because she follows her heart.

"The closer you are to death, the more alive you feel." This scene jumps off scenes in season 4. I love this entire episode. This scene because of Damon's response. He cares how he makes Elena feel, so when she pulls a fake-out, then says this... his smile says it all. I mean... he essentially stabbed her, she made him believe she was dying, then she put this huge smile on his face.

His choice to take the cure. Fans had to know that Stefan would be making a point with his visions. Damon was planning a vampire life with Katherine. While in transition, he watched them drag her into the church and set it on fire. Believing she was dead, he had no intention of completing his transition. He was planning to die. Here, he basically tells Elena that even if she dies, the rest of his miserable existence will be worth the time he did get to spend with her. The fact that he speaks to the rest of his miserable existence means he plans on living the rest of his human life even if she dies, that's how much he loves her. His "smallest chance" comment is a reference to Emily's talisman. They gave Damon the best lines in the show, istg.

Liz's funeral. What Damon couldn't do for Alaric in their season 4 lantern lighting, he does for Liz here. He's expressing his loss with the group. That's growth. What I love about this scene is Damon's words to Caroline and her song... because I love it when she sings. Damon's words to Caroline are his true feelings about her, so fans should also know why Klaus loved her as he did. "You're a beautiful, strong woman, a generous friend, and a bright light in a sea of dark."

This is my favorite Defan scene. Everything Stefan needed. Damon told Bonnie it wasn't just Elena he had to get back home to. He had to get back to Stefan because he knew. Losing a brother is insanely painful, and this came two seasons after Stefan gave Elena advice on mourning Jeremy. It's through his loss of Damon that Stefan felt it... how right Damon was to say that he wasn't enough for Elena when she lost Jeremy. Caroline wasn't enough for him. He had to let her go because he couldn't deal. Anyway, I love Stefan's emotion in this scene. You can feel how much he loves Damon.

Damon and Bonnie in the prison world is written like Damon and Enzo in The Cell. Difference is, Bonnie was able to get word to Damon that she survived... with Ms. Cuddles. This hug represents what could've been for Damon and Enzo, and it came after Liz's funeral, so it was something Damon certainly needed. He said goodbye to one friend and hello to another.

"I mean, you'd think he'd at least flip a coin... heads he picks you, tails he picks..."

Coin tosses are a Salvatore thing, and Kai messed with the wrong women. Damon's girlfriend and his best friend lol... that's a death wish. Fail as he does, when Damon wants someone dead, it's just a matter of time before he gets it right.

This dance scene. Caroline is hot as hell, and I love seeing her without her humanity. She's having so much fun it's insane. I'm pretty sure season 6 is my favorite season for Caroline. I should point out the fact that Liz's death was her moment for Damon. So much so, she took his advice and flipped her switch.

Enzo pulls a Damon move. This could've been his only scene in the show and I'd still love him. Two people Enzo cared about... Damon was upsetting, Caroline topped the cake for him. Stefan doesn't know what it's like to truly be alone. Enzo does. That's why he's angry as hell in this scene. Stefan has everything that he doesn't, and he's wasting it on a fake life. This scene had me cheering.

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and-ie · 1 year ago

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Writing about Nanami based on a dream I had about him this morning to cope with the emptiness of him being a fictional character when I woke up:

Note: first-person pov, female reader, not edited, sickeningly sweet and lovey-dovey.

The Hands that hold you

Many things had hands. For example, the huge clock I was staring at had hands much like what it showed; Time too had hands. The hands of time were cruel and fast, only seeming to stop when its misfortunes have been said and done; stopping to let the pain sink in.

Even now, time stood still in the empty train station. I'd rushed over as soon as I'd heard the news flash about the chaos at Shibuya station. Something was eerily off earlier today, but as midnight approached, the dread settled into empty calmness, void of any emotional charge in the air besides stillness. Yellow light reflected off the walls and tiles and silver benches at the station. Empty, of course. Everyone who had survived the mysterious attack had rushed home... except me.

Madly, I had rushed to the scene of discord rather than from it. Crazy, isn't it? But that's what love makes you do, crazy, stupid things. And right now, the crazy, stupid thing I was doing was waiting for a certain stoic, strong blond as my knee bounced in anticipation, fingernails digging into my fisted palms on my thigh.

The things I would do for that man terrifies me sometimes. Like... a cursed spirit could've pounced on a very unsuspecting me at that moment, and I would've been completely defenseless being a non-sorcerer and whatnot.

The sound of footsteps immediately made me whip my neck to the left so fast, I heard a knuckle go 'pop!'.

"Nanami," I breathed as I stood to my feet when I saw him stride over to me, clearly in as much haste as I was in.

Before another word left my lips, the embrace of strong arms, corded with muscles, crushed me to his chest. Nanami held me close, his arms and warm, clean scent enveloping me in comfort. "What are you doing here? God, you really don't know when to quit, do you?" He asked, his hand going to the back of my head to cradle it so close that I could hear the gavel of his heart thumping.

"And have you die alone? Nonsense. I might as well get taken out in the bargain, too." I mumble against his chest.

Nanami pulled away to grip me by my shoulders. Amber-brown eyes pierced into mine. "It's my job to risk my life for you and other people. It's your job to stay safe and out of harms way." He said firmly. But all the finality in his voice would never shake what I had made up my mind on. So I said the only answer I knew to that. "No."

He sighed, surprising even me when he didn't have any rebuttal. If the cut on his brow and the blood staining an entire side of his shirt was any indication, Nanami must've been exhausted after the grueling battle at Shibuya. Things would have been more gory for him, but thankfully, Shoko was as efficient as her reputation of her being a healer.

I leaned into his touch as his thumb gently brushed against my cheekbone. "Why must you be so persistent?" Nanami shook his head, his eyes softening despite the question he asked.

"I don't know, Kento. Why must you always disregard your own safety for others?"

"Because it's my job."

"Then it's my job to do the same for you."

Time stopped once again then, as Nanami smiled— a rare sight to behold for sore eyes— like a lone ray of sunlight beaming through the thick boughs of miles upon miles of forest.

"Come here, darling," he said, his voice raspy and tired as he pulled me down to sit with him. One of the station lights flickered overhead as the only audience watching us.

His hand cupped my cheek, supporting the weight of my head. Nanami was a strong man, broad shouldered and powerful enough to kill anyone with a single punch. But no one would ever think he was capable of hurting a fly with the way he was looking right now.

And I was the recipient of that look.

My heart raced like it wanted to outrun my body and leap like an athlete out of my chest. I felt like melting, seeping into his skin to his veins, and making a home out of his heart. See, the look of love was one thing, but Nanami gazed at me like I was priceless treasure, touched my face like he still needed time to process that I was his. Like he still couldn't believe I was his at all.

Nanami's eyes were soft and held all the world's tenderness as he leaned in to kiss me, brushing his lips just barely against mine, once, twice, before he finally pressed his lips to mine. Electricity ran through my body at the contact, bringing me alive to pull him closer by the collar of his bloodied shirt.

On the contrary, his fingers were gently and nimbly threading through my hair, tilting my jaw even to part my lips with his. The moment was one of urgency, but not once did the hands that held me lose their soft and tender touch, not even when he pulled me closer so that there was no sliver of air between us. Not even when his teeth grazed my bottom lip.

I thought I'd lost you's, were murmurred in winces between kisses. And promises to never leave that wasn’t even in our hands were pressed upon my lips in response.

It would do for now.

Because the hands that held me oh so gently held my heart too in a grip that never compromised on tender love, no matter how tightly he held on.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk #fanfic #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk nanami #nanami fanfic #nanami headcanons #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento jjk #nanami kento fanfic #i love nanami so much you guys #i have been fortunate enough to dream about him I'm crying

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hookaroo · 8 months ago

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Laden of the Torn (25 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

A few weeks later…

Killian could now guess almost exactly when the pain would start, as determined by how long he’d been away from Alice. A fortnight allowed him to get within sight of the blue spires as the curse’s grip slowly tightened around his heart. One month, and he could stand at the tower’s base and gaze upward longingly with only mild discomfort. Six weeks, and he could make half the climb before the knives commenced their assault. Before now, he hadn’t had the self-discipline to test anything longer.

This time, as he climbed in the darkness of near-dawn, his still-healing hand threatened to give out before his heart even felt the first tentative prick of a blade. But his determination drove him higher, and yearning anticipation drowned out all physical concerns.

Alice knew better than to watch him climb. Her proximity as he reached the high window would put him in danger of falling, or even being flung outwards into space as he’d done in her premonitory nightmare before he’d even been cursed. So she waited against the far wall, anxious eyes watching for his first appearance, which always propelled her into an excited bounce--the only way to contain the longing energy that would otherwise have launched her forward into an ill-advised attempt at a hug.

Today was no different, and as Killian pulled himself up to catch his first glimpse of his impatiently waiting daughter, Alice let out a little squeal of relieved delight. Panting, Killian leaned against the wall to catch his breath, flashing her a bright smile as he fumbled for Mandible’s potion in the satchel slung over his shoulder. Alice grinned back with a wave, still bouncing on the balls of her feet and watching apprehensively as one decorative ceremonial cloth fluttered to the floor, followed by a second animal-skin wrapping. He could see tears glistening on her face, and the lump constricting his own throat made choking down the potion absurdly difficult.

Almost immediately, the stabbings slowed, the knives retreated, and Killian’s rib cage could expand freely as he drew a huge, satisfying lungful of air. He downed the last mouthful of tangy liquid, carefully replaced the stopper--he planned to fill the vial with water several times to be sure he extracted every last second of its offered reprieve--and then took a single eager step forward. Alice took that as her cue and was across the room and in his arms before he had even completed a second step.

“Alice…” Killian breathed, squeezing her tight as he’d done so often in his dreams.

“Papa!” cried Alice in almost the same instant, and they both laughed and sobbed and held each other as if nothing would ever drive them apart again.

Killian soaked in every last detail of that hug: the way she felt in his arms, her warmth and surprising strength as she squeezed him back, the sound of her emotional whimpers of laughter as she was overwhelmed by the same heart-wrenching delight that also coursed through his veins. The flowery scent of her hair. The unexpected height of her head against his shoulder. He closed his eyes and committed it all to memory.

“Papa…” whispered Alice brokenly.

“Yes, Starfish?” Killian placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

“I… I’m not sure I can let go.”

A tear slipped down his cheek and disappeared into her shining crown of gold. “Nor am I, love. I’ve missed you… more than words can tell.”

Alice sniffed, then tilted her head back to look up at him. She gave him a watery smile, saying,

“Let’s pretend… let’s pretend tomorrow doesn’t exist. It will always be today, forever and ever. Would… that be all right?”

Choking back a sob, Killian nodded. “Of course.”

He wanted to expand upon that, to offer reassurance or somehow lend credence to the fantasy, but found he could not speak as frustration and grief boiled over. A single day was not nearly enough, and it was so terribly unfair that they had to spend their limited time together dreading the unfeeling approach of sunset. With a trembling hand, he reached up and began to stroke Alice’s hair, wrestling back all of the negativity, refusing to let it spoil this one precious day.

“I can’t believe how tall you’ve gotten!” he exclaimed, tone only slightly crazed. “Slow it down, would you? I can’t have you looking down on me one day and pointing out every new silver hair that crops up.”

Alice laughed shyly, finally and reluctantly pulling away, but entwining her fingers with his and gripping tightly. She looked down at herself, then gave an innocent shrug. “Sorry, Papa; I’ve decided to become a giant when I grow up. You’ll just have to make do.”

Killian grinned at her, sincere and encouraging. “Not to worry, Starfish; I’ll be proud of you, whatever you become.”

Alice wiped her face with her sleeve, looked him up and down, and frowned slightly. “Have you been eating properly? You look dreadfully skinny.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oi, cheeky, would you rather I have a gut full of whale blubber? It would be very hard to climb the rigging of the Jolly Roger hauling that lot around.”

Alice’s laughter still contained a hint of concern, and Killian sighed. Perceptive, his daughter.

“I’m all right love; I give you my word. I had a… minor illness not long ago, but as you can see, I’m good as new now.” He glanced around the only surroundings she’d ever known, taking in the condition of her prison and noting with love the obvious attempts she’d made to make the place presentable for him. “And what about you? Not up late reading every night, I hope?”

“Papa!” Alice rolled her eyes at him. He waited for a proper reply, mock sternness completely undermined by the loving grin on his lips. Giggling, she relented. “I’ve been good, I promise. You would be proud.”

Killian couldn’t resist pulling her into another embrace. “I am, love. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Can’t fathom where it came from, considering what a buffoon you have for a father.”

“Oh, Papa…”

He had meant it as a bit of lighthearted self-deprecation--a reference to his recent scrape with Blackbeard and his monkeys, perhaps--but suddenly, the weight of his true misdeeds pressed down upon him with full force. Gently, he extricated himself and stepped back so he could look her straight in her eyes. Using his hook to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, he choked out,

“Can you ever forgive me, Alice?”

She looked completely mystified, and when it took him a moment to continue past his emotions, she asked,

“Forgive you? For what?”

He looked at the floor, recalling with painful clarity the instant the curse had been revealed. “The witch was right. It’s entirely my fault my heart was poisoned. I wasn’t thinking about anything but my own worthless, stubborn pride. I neglected my responsibility to you. I even had a whole night to consider the fact that I was risking my death for nothing more than my bloody reputation, and I still chose to be reckless and selfish. I’m so sorry, love. I’m only cursed because I’m a damn fool, and I’ve forced you to share in the consequences.”

There were tear stains on Alice’s face when he managed to meet her eyes again, but she squeezed his hand, then surged forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

“It’s okay, Papa. I forgive you.”

Still wracked by shame, Killian cradled her head against his heart. “You do?”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” she reminded him simply, and he knew he would never forget the complex mix of relief, guilt, pride, and overwhelming love that filled him from head to toe at her quiet statement. It did not completely unburden his heart; nothing ever would until he found a way to permanently break the curse. But a noticeable weight did lift with Alice’s sincere offering of grace.

“I love you,” she said, and he only just managed to choke out,

“I love you too, Alice.” He cleared his throat and struggled to gather his composure. “Thank you for being so understanding. I give you my solemn vow that you are my entire focus, from now on. I won’t stop until I free you, or cure this heart for good.”

“I know.” Alice managed to look hopeful then, despite the number of months that had already passed with no progress on either count. She took her father by the hand again and pulled him farther into the room than he’d dared venture since his magical banishment.

“How about a game before breakfast?” she suggested as she led him to the chess board, which had already been neatly arranged, minus two meaningful missing pieces. She produced her white knight from a pocket in her apron; Killian did likewise with his black rook. As two equally faded pieces joined their more vibrant counterparts, Killian said,

“I would like nothing more, Starfish. But I must warn you, I may be a bit out of practice.”

They both took their accustomed places. Alice scoffed teasingly. “That’s only an excuse for when you inevitably lose.”

“Is that so? Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

Alice giggled, considered him for a moment, then made her first move. And for just that single moment, tomorrow did, indeed, cease to exist.

#ouat fanfiction #laden of the torn #wish hook #alice jones #knightrook #angst #the end #thank you for reading!! :)

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tinyascanbe · 6 months ago

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Beetle Shells Chapter 2

TW: nudity, very slight noncon, medical, insects

No sexual content

Deeply asleep from exhaustion and the effects from her transformation, Clementine began to have a nightmare. Horned brown glossy beetles surrounding her (at her once normal height), crawling up her, prickling legs like razors on her skin. I felt the pain in the dream and yet was glued in place, unable to even move my arms to knock off the insects. A strong odor filled my nose…sweet…but harsh like vinegar. I realized it was the pheromone, i was dripping it onto the ground, exuding the liquid as it quickly vaporized. I couldnt close my mouth or even scream as I felt the beetles begin crawling up my neck.

Immediately broken from sleep, a monumental force pushed me further into the balled up shirt. I looked around confused for a moment as my head felt clearer and the realization of everything slapped me in the face.

Kyles massive face loomed in front of me scrunched up in a look of concern eliciting a scream.

“Hey im sorry I didnt mean to scare you or hurt you with that poke, I just couldnt wake you up for awhile, I was really concerned. I cant feel a pulse on something…so little..” He trailed off and brought his face closer.

What kind of fucked up reality is this?! I attempt to move backwards but to my dismay I cant produce the force to push farther back on the shirt so i dart my eyes around observing the new location.

Im on a bed, presumably Kyles, that stretches out for what seems like forever with a fluffy blue comforter. I spot posters that look like huge billboards and the ceiling looks so so far away that its hard for me to make out any features of the overhead light. Its all too much. I realize my breathing has quickened and panic is swelling within me. I grab a corner of the shirt and pull it over the rest of my body/head and use the darkness to try and steady my emotions.

“Hey….please dont hide..” Kyle brought his hands and lifted the shirt to reveal my head. The panic and fear was tangible. Hesitantly a huge finger approached my head and despite my eyes widening and head tilting back at the massive and powerful form towering above.

He lowered the finger onto my head and its weight and size stunned me. He slowly dragged his finger back, petting my hair while he averted his eyes.

“Im hope this isnt weird I just dont know how to comfort someone at this size. I want to let you know that youre safe with me and Ill take care of you until we find a way to get you back to your normal size. Unless you have somewhere else you’d prefer to be.”

I look up and speak for the first time since Ive become so small.

“Thank you.” Its clear my shyness is apparent from the softness of my voice and I wonder how it might sound to someone of his size.

I lay in the shirt upon his thigh, heat radiating through me and my breath slows, eyes drifting close again.

“You cant sleep yet, we have to take care of your wounds Clem. You’re not really in a position to take care of them yourself at the moment. If you get an infection at this size, youre toast. Im going to take you to the bathroom now, Ill try and walk slowly for you.”

I lift up my head and observe the two hands close in on me and lift me. I observe the beige carpet and swallow realizing just how far of a fall it would be. I grip the shirt tightly and squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for it to be over.

Im lowered onto a marble countertop and watch Kyles features flush. A small medicine cabinet attached to the wall above the sink is opened above and he leans over me to sift through the contents. I stare up and the stories high man before me and watch him push back his long silky hair behind his ear. He pulls out gauze, antibiotic ointment, medical scissors, and a q-tip. My twisted or sprained ankle throbbed and Id wish I were able to walk on it so I could just take care of it all myself.

“Well… Im just going to get on with it then” Kyle states, his face flushing even darker. He moves his hands down and hesitates before removing the shirt from my tiny grasp and fully exposing me. I felt violated in the moment, like a baby getting their diaper changed. He looked me over and gently applied a prepared hand towel, damp with warm water and soap, that looked the size of a pool to me. He slowly dragged it down my body and I squirmed from the heat and rough fabric against the cuts from the glass and bug legs. A hiss escaped my lips.

“I know…I know..” he whispered from his massive lips.

“Can you flip for me?” He asked in a sheepish tone.

The embarrassment was horrific. It was like getting a brazillian wax. Bowing my head i adjust my position and then flip over as I was told to, shame overcoming me and pain shooting through my ankle. I soon felt the washcloth drape on my back and drag downward a few times. Two fingers suddenly clamped down on my sides cand lifted me into the air, my body dangling in front of his observant eyes before I was lowered onto a white fluffy hand cloth. I quickly pulled the fabric to cover myself.

“Not yet Clem. Im sorry.. Im just trying to help you. We’re almost done.” Kyle stated, still flushed as he reexposed me, now holding a qtip and antibiotic ointment.

I quickly used my hands to cover myself and crossed my legs, laid out on my back, and squeezing my eyes shut. Thick globs of the ointment now covered most of my skin which was pretty sticky and gross feeling. Kyle reached down and pulled the fluffy fabric around me, relief washing over me that it was finally done.

Silence dragged between us until a roll of gauze that was half the size of my body was held up against me. Looking up, I saw him nod and cut a 10 inch strip of it and open a small butterfly bandage.

“If you wrap this around yourself, I’ll secure it with the butterfly bandage and youll have a makeshift wrap dress, which should suffice for now.”

I take the dangling fabric from his outstretched hand and quickly wrap it around myself. He secures the bandage, bringing his fingers to gently press it on. He hesitates and brings a finger to brush my hair back from my bowed head.

“Cmon, lets go watch a tv show or something. Nothing else left we can do to change the situation tonight”

#giant tiny #giant/tiny #g/t #g/t fluff #g/t writing #beetle wings

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weirdcat1213 · 4 months ago

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Hi....If you don't mind me asking, can I ask, what are your top 7 favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series/etc) and your top 7 favorite (fictional) characters from any media? Why do you love them all? Sorry if you've answered this questions before......

Hello :D

omg i get to yell about things I like, exciting!

first im going to go with my top 7 in no special order cuz I would never be able to decide

Trigun (98, manga and stampede): I've talked WAY to much about this one but holy shit has impacted my life. The story, the characters, the pain THE SWEET SWEET PAIN MY GOD. It just mixes a lot of tropes/themes I really like. And we have 3 versions of it! How cool is that?

Steven Universe: again another classic. Discovered the show when I was young and it just grabbed my soul. Very formative and influential while I was growing up. So soft and p a i n f u l l as all thins should be :3. Plus the music is a banger. Like to this day ik songs from it. Favorite one is change btw.

Legend series (book series): no one paid attention to this series because it came out the same time as divergent and hunger games and other big titles. But I was! And it's still one of the best book series I've ever read. It totally has the 2013-2015 vibes (except for the latest one in the series, rebel) but it's....honest. not only because all the struggles in the book are real but also because the author really believes in her characters. She created them but also let them become people. Plus the writing is amazing and her description of specific moments and emotions UGH I have a huge post about it because of how cool it is. I still remember opening the first book and getting SLAPPED by the first line. Yes it's that good.

Signalis: newish game :D saw lesbians, saw violence and I was on board but I never thought the game would make me think and stare at the wall that much. So far I've played it 5 times and going for a 6th. It's so abstract and no one can decide on what's true or not but that's part of its beauty. Really clever and interesting game. Nothing is real, only lesbians with guns.

Our Flag Means Death: cool show that was about queer NOT IN THEIR TEENAGE YEARS??? IN THIS ECONOMY??? AND NOT ABOUT AIDS (sorry pose I still love you). Of course it won me over because of the queerness but also the characters themselves. It was nice to see myself in a lot of them, personality and racially wise. The fun gay pirates came to my house, destroyed my life and also gave me life. Easy as that.

Pose fx: don't like the main writer of the show too much but the rest of them ATE WITH THIS. A story about black queer woman PORTRAYED BY BLACK QUEER WOMEN. It deals with the aids crisis through the lenses of trans women and gay men but the thing in that show that blew me away was the love for femininity and the community they created around it. They actually took their abandoned and traumatized selves and became someone. They formed families that actual give support and I'm a sucker for found family. I've cried many times because I wanted Blanca to adopt me. 10/10 show about overcoming shit circumstances and the importance of community. What if I cried again.

Houseki no Kuni (manga and anime): weird manga that I've been following for YEARS because its so fucking good. The anime is beautiful and captivating af and honestly the whole thing needs to be analyzed by a Buddhist. it makes me want to learn about that religion so i can understand more. but yeah its sad, its hype, and once again its about gay rock MMM my favorite. you dont know the hours i spent looking for videos/animatic about it. hard to explain but i like to describe it as "human growth: the manga/anime"

Maybe it seems like I don't watch many movies and it's kinda true! I'm more of a shows person. but there are movies i like. maybe another day

Now onto my favorite characters but again I can't decide so this is in no special order. Also because I can't decide I'm giving the spotlight to characters that are not from the media mentioned above (for example if you dont see vash in here is because i yell about him enough like. 3 times minimum per month). Because I can. Because I'm normal about media and stories i like.

1.Steven (su): MY BOY MY MOON AND STARS. ok a lot of this list is about characters i relate to, but this one is the og. this mf is one of the kindest, awesome yet misunderstood characters of all time. theres so much rage and trauma in this little guy but there are many other feelings that get lowkey explored in the main show until BOOM the emotions explode in su future. its amazing how complex my son is. im so lucky that i got to grow up along side him in a way. and in another way it was nice to see myself kinda represented in him? fun times.

2.Tifa (ffvii): PRETTY RECENT BUT SHES THE COOLEST. ejem sorry. i love cloud, zach and the others from the game but tifa doesnt get the recognition she deserves. she survived so many tragedies and became stronger because of it. not only in body but also in mind. however she also became cautious and tries to not explode in front of others. she tries to be a safe place for people, even when shes scared. i think thats pretty admirable of her. i would say more but i dont want to risk spoiling the game but there are little moments and scenes where she just tries to be there for people because she has no one in her life anymore and fuck it makes me sad. also shes pretty hot-

3.Elektra (pose): MY QUEEN. shes just. evil sometimes. shes really a bitch to most of the characters but DAMN SHES COOL WHEN SHE IS. elektra knows she was born with a huge disadvantage in life so she grabs power like a mf and bites it. i kinda aspire to be that, to not let anyone get in my way. she just really speaks to the part of me that has bigger ambitions. but shes also smart and caring (when shes not being a bitch) and every time the world puts her down she stands up and kicks the world again. she's the power of femininity itself and yes i also think shes hot (i mean look at those cheeks of thunder) but shes like a fucking storm in a person and how i can not love that? We love poc people in power.

4.Phos (houseki no kuni): This fucking child (they're a child in my eyes) is so important to me for weird reasons. I got deep into hnk when I was in my sabbatical year. It was a time where I didn't know where I would go and phos seemed to be in a similar place. To this day it surprises me how ichikawa managed to create a "simple" character and then by all definitions made them human. I like their journey, the transformations they went through, the stages they went to cope or to confront their situation. Plus the design is pretty affff

5.Edward Teach (ofmd): I just.....really connected with this guy ok? The feeling of always being at the bottom so if you are going to rise your only option is to make people fear you but that's not true BOY HE LEFT NO CRUMBS WITH THAT WHOLE THING. he was just really cool when he entered the show and then it was "oh this guy is really fucked up actually" and he's so funny and MORE OLD POC QUEERS? FUCK YEAH. but i guess what puts him on top for me is how he explored himself and his needs. All that while being funny and tragic and gay. Really cool.

6.Anthy (revolutionary girl utena): MY DAUGHTER RRRRAAAAHHH. Anthy is a really tragic and complex character. to this day i cannot put together every reason why shes my favorite from utena. Shes tragic and my god the things she goes through break my heart every time I think about it but...shes also incredibly strong and funny and a weird keeping animals in her room. The creators did an excellent job showing her lack of agency and how she already had given up, but also showed her humanity and wish to retain things in her life that gave her joy. And movie anthy? That girl is a no nonsense girl. She will get her girlfriend no matter what from the people who abused her. She left that fucking school as a mature, smart and kind adult. We fucking stan.

7. Richard (requiem of the rose king): another recent acquired son. Idk why this one hit so much and honestly for how short the manga is (79 chapters) they did such a good job with him???? Banger themes and metaphors, banger character moments, banger GENDER moments. I've seen a few people not being able to take him seriously but idk, ir sounded honest and serious to me. A kid who has been told since birth they were a demon became one to survive but not really. Because no one with his wish can fully be a demon. Idk maybe it's cheesy but his quest for love and acceptance was a banger in my eyes (please read the manga. We can leave the anime behind). Also I like him cuz he's cool and is a character I CAN ACTUALLY COSPLAY THANK GOD-

AND THOSE ARE SOME CHARACTERS AND SOME PIECES OF MEDIA I LIKE :D IF ANYONE WANTS MORE PLS ASK.

#i feel like you weren't expecting a huge post #but yeah #it took me a while cuz #reasons #but thank you for asking! im always happy to talk about things i like #as you can see #sorry #maybe ill add the fandom tags later

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