#ive probably only seen like three seconds

[bookaddictedrose]

Who's that girl from Corpse Bride, the blue one? Cause she kinda reminds me of Suren.

Edit: her name's emily and I actually just found an amazing corpse bride x stolen heir fanart. It appears that somebody agrees with me. Huh.

TELL ME YOU DON'T SEE IT I DARE YOU

[sonknuxadow]

they werent lying that knuckles series barely has knuckles in it

[seattlesellie]

ok. can we talk about going with ellie to the mall because i think it would be… interesting.

(fluff ‘n a little bit of smut so mdni! 🎀 also wrote this ages ago and it’s so bad so excuse me!!! and reader is v fem)

౨ৎ when it comes to ellie williams— i believe she will throughly let you walk her like a dog. quite literally following you around the shops hand in hand— to the point where you’re merely dragging her around. at first, she’d be super chill and relaxed, but one hour later after seeing you try on the same dress three times already— she’d start groaning on and on. “babe… do we really have to go fucking zara again?”, when you tell her that you just regret not buying a certain top, she’d be so adorably pissed off, her eyebrows all furrowed together, just thoroughly confused. she would probably want to stop and eat some food every 5 seconds. “zara… or mcdonalds” ,weighing the two options on her hands and clearly placing the mcdonalds option way higher.

౨ৎ if there’s an arcade— you know her ass is fully stopping in her tracks, begging you to come and play some games with her. obviously, you oblige, because she’s giving you the biggest and cutest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen, and maybe she’d stupidly jump up when you say yes. she ends up beating you in every single game— and it's so painfully obvious that she’s been there about 17 times already.

“ellie, you’re only winning because you’re here every single day. you’re like a totallll loser” you defend, after she’d been gloating about her winning streak for 5 minutes straight. unsurprisingly, she just denies it. 

“i swear— ive never been here before, babe”

“els, be honest” you warn.

“okay— been here like once with jesse”

“once?”

“once… plus like five” and at that— she turns around, and places her hand behind her back, so you can intertwine it with yours. she’s sooo beating you in bowling.

౨ৎ while you’re browsing through clothes — shed be hugging you from behind tightly, as she kisses on your neck and silently begs for your attention.

“this skirts super cute, right?” you chirp, pointing at the plaid mini skirt and slowly tracing the soft fabric with the pads of your fingers.

ellie has her chaste lips right on your pulse point, and she’s barely even looking.

you pick it up, and she moves closer behind you with her hands still clinging on to your waist. “cute, right?” — you can feel ellie’s smile slowly form on your neck.

“yeah, babe… you’re very cute. thought you knew that already, though”

౨ৎ when you pull out two pieces from the rack (amethyst purple & floral purple) and ask her which color will fit you better, she just rolls her eyes and huffs. “babe… you cannot be serious they're the exact same”, to you, they are NOT. but ellie fully doesn’t get it at all.

౨ৎ put her in a gamestop— and it’s like she won the lottery. browsing through the different controllers, now its your turn to tease and tell her they’re all the exact same. put her in a NINTENDO shop and its literally over. her eyes are twinkling and sparkling, and shes borderline skipping through the store trying to find cool figurines. when she sees a bowser plushie (her mariokart main, duh) she picks it out so fast, and then tries to find you a plushie too— a princess peach or a kirby or whatever you want. she goes to pay, and when you leave the store with your two adorable new plushies inside the bag— ellie fully side eyes you. she has something to say, and you know it. she sighs deeply— “think theyre fucking in there?”

“if they’re anything like us… theyre fucking in there— oh my god, babe… bowsers humping her ass, look” —

she’s literally moving them inside the bag.

౨ৎ okay, so you’re done paying at zara (with her credit card but let’s not… talk about it), ellie left about 15 minutes ago because she was tired of looking at the clothes and she said that place looks like a mental asylum. you’re walking out of the shop with the bags in your hands, and you see her sitting on one of the random mall couches with a random grey haired middle aged man. weirdly, they seem to be in the midst of an incredibly intense conversation. you twist your face because what the fuck and;

“waiting for the wife, huh?” she asks him, manspreading on the chair with her hands resting on her thighs. they’re both staring at the store’s entrance, both sighing heavily. “that i am…” the old man huffs, and ellie chuckles to herself. “me too man… me too”

౨ৎ five minutes later — you find them talking about fucking bathroom tiles.

“i told her i wasn’t going to do marble— but she fucking insisted on it”

you walk a little closer, and ellie is still heavily rambling about floor stuff (?) you have absolutely no clue about.

“els…? ready to go?” you chirp, smiling warmly at the stranger. “gimme a sec” ellie looks at you from the corner of her eye, and keeps going. they’re exchanging numbers because they need to start thinking about how to build a new patio, and he has some “awesome fucking tips, man”

౨ৎ ellie places her hand on your shoulder as you’re walking away, and squeezes. “he was such a cool dude” she remarks, with a stupidly dumb, satisfied smile.

“ellie… he was like, sixty five”

“so? we bonded, babe” she shrugs.

“about floor tiles?” you ask her, and she begins rubbing little circles on your shoulder as you both stray further away from the shop.

“amongst other things” ellie chews on the inside of her cheek. should she say it?

“what things?” you smile sheepishly at your girlfriend, who’s seemingly nervous for some reason.

“you know… his wife…” she bites her cheek even harder now. she should definitely not say it. “my wife” okay— there it is.

her wife.

ten whole seconds of absolute radio silence pass. ellie thinks she might have said too much, but ellie doesn’t know you’re fighting for your life trying to hold on to your tears that are threatening to erupt.

her wife.

“you’re proposing here then, i assume?” you’re trying not to sound emotional, trying not to sound like your hearts about to burst out of your chest and start doing cartwheels on the malls pavement.

“nah… definitely somewhere way classier. like… bora bora, or the food court”

“food court?”

ellie has to stop. ellie has to stop and hold your hand.

“yeah… so i can hide the ring inside your burger n’shit. then you like… choke on it, then i save you… then not only am i a fuckin’ hero, i also get to like… marry the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen. and she has to say yes—” there’s no point in swallowing down your toothy smile now. “cause like… i saved her life, y’know?” as much as ellie’s joking, ellie’s cheeks are burning up.

“will you… say yes, though?” she balances her weight from leg to leg, and averts her gaze. mmhm— what an interesting sign!

the way you place your hand on the back of her neck and kiss her hard— that’s definitely a yes.

ellie won’t propose to you in the food court, though. in fact, she has this elaborate plan she has been thinking since about a month into your relationship. that, you’ll never guess.

౨ৎ mall ellie is ALL pda. she doesn’t let go of your hand like ever and constantly needs little kisses on the cheek. she bought you a cute new top? kiss on the cheek. cute dress? kiss on the cheek and on the nose. she doesn’t want you to say your thank you’s, she’d much rather you show them.

౨ৎ when you’re at a lingerie shop… suddenly she comes fully alive. its literally as if someone infused her with seven shots of caffeine and she can’t seem to be able to stop handing you different bra’s, panties, and sexy little nightgowns.

“that’ll look so fucking hot on you” & hands you the sluttiest thong youve ever seen. “that— will drive me fucking crazy” & hands you a sheer bra she can imagine your nipples poking out of.

“wanna eat you out in that” as she hands you a little nightgown and you’re like “ELLIE!” and slap her arm her because a 60 year old woman literally just heard her and looked like she was about to have an aneurysm.

“actually— wanna eat you out in that… and in that too… and in that— oh my god look baby they’re crotchless” wiggling her eyebrows and swaying the fabric in the air.

౨ৎ obviously… she wants you to model them for her. it’s funny, how she didn’t give a fuck when you tried a cardigan on or a hat or saw a cute purse, but now she’s demanding to go inside the dressing room with you and stare you down in the mirror like a perv. she watches you strip out of your clothes and you purposely do it extra slowly, taking your time removing the bra… and now, she’s just leaping out of her sit.

“nope— doing that for you…” she unclasps it, stands behind you and immediately gropes your tits. she gives you sweet little kitten licks and kisses on the neck, whilst maintaining full eye contact with her hands on your boobs from the mirror, and you can’t help but whimper when she takes your hardening nipples between her fingers and rolls them in her thumb. “ellie… were in public” you hiss, bucking your ass onto her crotch.

“we’re not in public, were in a dressing room…” she whispers, like she knows best.

“plus, i gotta test these little panties out… s’for you, y’know?”

ellie makes you sit on her lap to watch it up close, until she’s fully satisfied and is sure that they fit just right, and that she can see herself peeling them off of you. “give me a little wiggle, babe”, she rasps, as her hands roam over your naked waist.

“a wiggle?” you giggle, and burry your face in the crook of her neck.

“like… grind yourself up against me. gotta test the fabric, make sure you’re… comfortable” and— of course you do. you grind yourself up against her thigh until you forget what you even came to the mall for.

ellie’s eyes are fixated on you, taking in your little silent whimpers as you “test the panties” out.

“think… fuck— think we gotta buy them now… soaked ‘em all up, huh?” ellie pants, as she helps you grind your body back and forth. when ellie looks down on her thigh, truly just to watch how your pussy lips swallow the drenched material, ellie comes to an extra conclusion as well. there’s a sticky wet patch, almost heart shaped, over her denim jeans.

“shit… babe, look at that mess…”, she holds you by the back of your neck, and guides your head down. “mhm… gotta buy me some new jeans” your breath cages inside your throat as you begin to stutter, “sorry, el… didn’t mean to”

“oh fuck no… it’s… shit— so fuckin’ hot”

anyways, mall ellie is a menace.

[batw1nggg]

ive always interpreted postgame hajime/izuru as for the most part separate entities but with a degree of fluidity too (some days they can communicate some days they cant, they can very distinctively tell who’s fronting some days and some days they can’t at all, some memories they share and some memories they don’t and some memories may get mixed up between the two etc etc) but ive always liked to think that komaeda, with his freakishly observant nature, teaches himself how to clock which one is which pretty accurately.

hajime doesn’t always tie his tie evenly, izuru always ties it perfect. izuru always sits with either the worst or best posture youve ever seen, hajime is always somewhere in between. only hajime seems to wear casual clothes. if the tie color is any different from the usual green, that’s izuru. izuru styles his hair a bit neater, and if they’re overdue for a trim, izuru’s probably been fronting for a while. hajime likes his coffee fairly dark, izuru likes it with 10 spoonfuls of sugar.

so using this he can also tell when one is masking as the other (usually it’s izuru masking as hajime because he doesn’t want to deal with everyone —save for komaeda —being an ass/generally weird to him unprompted. theyre still working on that. but hajime has his reasons sometimes too). hajime’s tie is a little too perfect today. he’s being slightly quieter than usual. he recoiled when kazuichi leaned in to clap him on the back — but only slightly. no one else would’ve noticed.

sometimes these conflicting tells don’t indicate one pretending to be the other, but a more merged state. distinguishing that tends to have a larger margin of error, but when one masks as the other, usually the tells are consistently towards one or the other, and when they’re more merged then the tells are mixed (wearing casual clothes but having neat hair but having hajime’s posture but having izuru’s sweet tooth for example).

a couple years postgame i think komaeda learns to tell when they’re talking in headspace too, based on the tiny little changes in expression when they zone out. to tell WHAT theyre talking about komaeda definitely needs situational context (ex: if hajime randomly zones out while youre talking to him, izuru’s probably commenting on something you or he said. given enough context, komaeda can even guess what izuru says too), but he can usually at least tell when theyre talking. hajime’s subconscious facial expressions are more obvious then izuru’s, but if izuru’s brows are a little furrowed while he’s zoned out then they’re talking, and if his face is completely neutral then he’s just zoned out.

of course komaeda is wrong sometimes, because things aren’t that simple. but he tends to be freakishly accurate. once he picks up on who’s who that day, he’ll walk up and refer to them by name and get it right first try and no one knows how. sometimes komaeda only needs to see the back of him for a second or two before he can tell (that’s already three things he can observe: hair, posture, and if the back of the tie is tucked under the shirt collar properly. hajime usually forgets to check that). or sometimes he’ll go “does izuru want to add something?” if he can tell they’re talking to each other and everyone is like how could you tell.

the freakish observation is returned on hajime and izuru’s part of course, but it’s different because komaeda is no Ultimate Analyst or anything. it’s just a gay tendency.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

country club bathroom part two

words: 800

warnings: mentions of hooking up, no actual smut in this part, angst/fighting

part one / part two / part three / part four

“holy shit.” your eyes take in the grand entryway, the wealth of the cameron family on clear display.

“shit, almost forgot you were a pogue for a second there.” rafe laughs gently. he places his hands on your waist, hauling your body against his, lips meeting yours in a kiss.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, expecting him to lift you up, to grip your ass and carry you up the stairs, to immediately take you to his bedroom, but after a few minutes of kissing, rafe pulls away.

“god, im starving.” rafe groans. you think it's a euphemism at first, especially considering how intensely he eats you out when you have enough time and privacy at the country club.

“yeah?” you smirk, but rafe doesn't smile.

“you're probably hungry after your shift, right? what do you want? ramen, pizza?”

“ramen?” you let out a giggle. “are you sure you're not the pogue?”

“alright, alright.” rafe laughs. “i would take you somewhere fancy but…” you get the implication. you may have been hooking up for months now, but that doesn't make it any less complicated to be seen in public together.

“pizza is fine.” you pat rafes chest, leaving him to call and order while you explore more of the house, unashamed of checking out every decadent piece of furniture.

rafe catches up to you in the living room, coming up to wrap his arms around your waist as you stare out the window towards the ocean, the waves gently lapping the shore.

“it looks just like my view of the water.” you mumble. ignoring the dock stretching out into the water, yours not extending nearly as far and certainly not boasting as many boats.

“yeah?” rafe questions, ducking his head to kiss your neck, knowing better than to suck a bruise on the sensitive skin, as much as he badly wants to.

“not that different afterall.” you hum. you mean it sarcastically, but it does have your mind whirling. these percieved small differences that divide the island, all based on nothing more than the numbers in your bank account.

“don't tell me my favorite pogue is sympathizing with the kooks now.” rafe scoffs.

you turn around suddenly, out of his arms. “as if you haven't been on your knees for me.”

“hey, hey.” rafe says softly, seeing you're actually angry. “i like you y/n. i know i tease you but you give good head. i wouldn't invite you back here if i didn't want you.”

“can't you see i have more qualities than just good head?” you question, not sure why you're suddenly so angry, why the feelings are building up in your gut. you just want to be recognized, recognized by rafe, by the kooks, want the divide to heal, or at least lessen.

“yeah, of course, baby.” rafe tries to reach out for you, but you take a step back, backing into the sliding glass door.

“what did i do wrong, baby?” he asks softly. “tell me so i can make it up to you. if i said something im sorry. i just like to tease you when i say that dirty pogue shit.”

“no, you mean it.” you shake your head. “i know how you treat the other pogues on the island.” you have never seen rafe fight anyone else, but you've seen the cuts and bruises and heard stories from maybank and pope when you visit heywards.

“you're different.” rafe doesn't let your backing away stop him this time, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you into his body. “yeah, you give good fucking head but you're also funny, and sassy. and have a backbone. everything ive done to the other pogues is because they're not like you. they're pieces of shit. probably not every single one of them, yeah. but i don't touch the ones that don't give me a reason to.”

“yet you still refuse to be seen in public with me.” you know you're asking a lot of rafe, and it's not like you can be seen together at the country club anyways. you knew he was only asking you to hook up when he invited you over, but the comment about taking you to a fancy restaurant struck you harder than you thought it would.

you pull away suddenly. “what are we doing here? i mean really. just hooking up? fucking? and we don't even really like each other? im sorry rafe, i don't think i can do that anymore.” you start to head through the maze of a house, needing to find your way out, needing to take a deep breath of air.

“what do you mean?” rafe follows your footsteps.

“if this is going nowhere… if we can't even go out on a single date, i… i can't do this.” you feel yourself starting to hyperventilate, chest suddenly getting tight, restricting your breathing.

“baby-” rafe tries to talk, but you find the front door and flee, running across his yard until you're outside of his fence, taking gulps of air. 

you look back and tanneyhill, and rafe doesn't follow you.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XXII

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. I did not think of specific warnings here, but you'll let me know.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI

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

“I’d say the worst part is doing paperwork after,” Shoko said, taking a can from the shelf and putting it in her basket.

After spending the afternoon together with Shoko, she had taken you into a convenience store saying she needed to buy some stuff. You did not mind doing grocery shopping with her, but when the conversation had shifted to her work and you commented how exhausting it must be for her to deal with all the aspects of being a doctor, you had not expected her to say the paperwork was the worst part.

“Is it?” you asked.

She gave you a silent nod but seemed to reconsider it. “Second worst.”

You could only imagine what the first worst thing on the job should be, but before you could say anything else…

“[name]!”

Shoko did not know who the voice belonged to, but by the way you looked past her and smiled, she believed you certainly did.

When the stranger came closer, she realized he had a familiar air but still could not seem to recall where exactly she had seen that face before.

“This is crazy, I was about to call you,” he was smiling at you, but the way Shoko was studying his face caught your attention. “Did you run out of shampoo again?”

Where have I seen that smile before? Ieiri wondered.

You returned his smile. “No, this time I’m here with...”

Shoko’s steady gaze on your friend’s face reminded you that they should probably be reintroduced. “Oh, right... Haruki, do you remember Ieiri?”

Now the two of them were studying each other’s face.

Haruki did, in fact, remember a version of Ieiri he had known in passing during his high school days, but the Ieiri in front of him looked more like the one in the pictures he had noticed in your apartment when he had been there. That was how he also got familiar with how Gojo looked now.

“There’s only three of you here,” he had pointed out, looking at the framed picture in your room that had captured a surprised Shoko trapped in yours and Satoru’s embrace. It had been the day she had passed the medical license examination.

“I guess it’s been the three of us for a while now,” was your only comment.

The moment of realization was briefly noticeable on Shoko’s face, but it was enough for you to see it and hope the telepathy you sometimes seemed to share would work this time too.

Yes, it’s him… Please be nice.

“The one and only Ieiri,” Haruki offered her a closed-eye smile. “[name] told me a lot about you. I heard you’re a doctor now.”

The faint smile that appeared for a second on her face reminded you of the Shoko who used to tease you when she saw you with Haruki back in the day, and the possibility of her saying something that would embarrass you finally hit you.

“Have they? Well, they told me a lot about you too.”

Oh no.

She went on. “Something about how you…”

“How you got that great job here!” you interrupted her before she could say something that would make Haruki uncomfortable. “That’s impressive, isn’t it, Shoko?”

The placid smile she gave you could have been well understood as an entertained smirk.

You might have told her a number of things that could be considered harmless; how Haruki had returned as if he had just rematerialized out of nowhere, how you had not expected to ever see him again, how shocking it had initially been that he was so eager to spend time with you and wanted catch up, and even more surprising, how it seemed you still understood each other pretty well.

As harmless as such commentary could be, it worried you that Shoko's matter-of-fact tone might make Ikeda uncomfortable if she repeated it.

Still, she nodded and did her best to sound sincere when she glanced back at him. “Yeah, that’s… great for sure.”

Haruki may have picked up on how Shoko’s words seemed a bit forced, but he showed no reaction. In fact, the way he effortlessly kept the conversation going and the soft looks he kept throwing your way reminded Ieiri of those afternoons in the coffee shop when he would engage you in a discussion about anything after you had given him a simple greeting.

He knows what he is, that’s for sure.

When Shoko stepped aside for a moment with the excuse of needing to pay for her things, Haruki said to you “You know? I was never able to tell whether she disliked me or not.”

If you gave it some thought, Shoko had never been too personal about her opinion of Ikeda either. You knew she had considered him “nice” when you were younger, and she had even been supportive of your feelings for him, or tried to, while she thought he was what you wanted.

“If that’s how it is, then that’s how it is,” had been her words.

But when he left, she had just hoped you would forget him so you would not hurt over him.

You looked in the direction Shoko had walked away. Now it was just you and Haruki in the aisle.

“Yeah, she can be hard to read sometimes,” you looked back to him. “You said you were going to call me. Why was that?”

His smile widened. “Are you free next weekend? There is something I want us to do, but it’s fine if you’re busy.”

“I’m not busy, but…”

For some reason, you thought of Satoru and how odd he still was about your friendship with Haruki, how he had asked if he was the reason you had wanted to get over your feelings for him.

Aside from a couple of meals, you had not been spending too much time with Haruki since Satoru told you he liked you and asked that you considered his feelings. Something Haruki had somehow requested too last time you had seen him when he passed that book over the table you were sharing.

“Don’t read the dedication yet,” he said softly placing his hand over yours before you could open the book.

If it means what I think he meant that time…

“Then let’s go out next Saturday.” He checked his watch. “Oh, shoot. I forgot I have to do something, but I’ll text you, okay?”

You swallowed any protests and nodded as you saw Ieiri walking back to you, plastic bag in hand, just in time for her to watch Ikeda shoot you another charming smile and run to the register himself.

Why could you not say no to him?

You liked his company, that much was true, but if he liked you the way you thought, would it not be better to make it clear that nothing would come out of it, especially now that you had your heart set on Satoru?

Because you were sure of your feelings, were you not?

“He hasn’t changed, has he?” Ieiri’s question pulled you out of your thoughts.

Indeed, he had not changed much, but had you?

***

“I thought you wouldn’t come.” Naoya looked you up and down before turning around and leading the way further into the Zen’in state. “Hurry up.”

You walked behind him. “The message I got was not clear, so I really did not have a choice but to come here.”

All the way to the pits of hell.

“Not clear you say.” Even if all you could see was his back, you could tell Naoya must have had that twisted smile of his on his face.

The message your family had received was that you were to attend the Zen’in state to discuss 'matters that would benefit both families if the outcome was positive'.

Only one minor detail: you were to attend alone.

With a family that saw no more than one or two sorcerers per generation, and that was still mainly stablished in the normal world, if one of the major clans in the jujutsu world demanded something, the least you could do was to acknowledge their request.

That was why you had come.

“Is it necessary that you escort me?” you asked him.

Naoya’s pace was firm as you crossed the gardens and marched to a construction where you assumed whoever had asked for you was waiting.

“It is. You’re an outsider after all.”

“You are the ones that invited me though,” you mumbled.

“It’s protocol. You know about that, don’t you?” He did not even try to look at you.

When you reached the building, Naoya’s steps on the wooden floor were not as loud as you had expected them to be.

Coming here was a bad idea.

He stopped in front a closed shoji door, and finally turned to look at you. “Well, it’s here, [name]. The opportunity of your life awaits behind this door.”

Hearing your name from his mouth had always disgusted you, but the condescending look he was giving you made you want to punch him.

“What’s the meaning of this, Zen’in?” you asked.

He replied to your question with nothing but a snigger and you saw his hand reach for the door.

“Behind me,” he commanded and slid the door open.

***

Satoru considered himself a patient, self-controlled man, except when it came to two certain matters.

You were one of those, of course.

He stood behind you while you were standing in his kitchen and, hands on his back, he bent down until his chin was on your shoulder. “How long do we have to wait?”

You did not move and kept your eyes on the oven. “Fifteen minutes.”

“That’s too long for a few cookies,” he complained. “Can we take them out in ten?”

The second thing he could hardly control himself over was, of course, anything sweet.

“Recipe says fifteen,” you deadpanned.

It had been done on a whim. Your fun day out with your best friend had turned into a baking class after Satoru said he had never used his oven because he had just never had the need for it, and it was oh-such-a-waste.

“If only someone would teach me how to bake,” the bastard had said battling his eyelashes as the expert manipulator you knew he could be.

“Fine. Just this one time.”

You had to admit the smile he had given you then had been priceless, and obliging his silly requests once in a while could not hurt, right?

“Well, fifteen minutes is plenty of time,” you heard him sigh softly over your shoulder.

Slowly, you turned your head to him. Months ago, the situation would have had you paralyzed, a hundred thoughts running through your head, fighting yourself on whether or not tell Satoru how you felt. But now, while your feelings were stronger, these quiet moments when you would closely look at each other did not make you uneasy anymore. It felt as if...

I love him.

You blinked when he broke the eye contact and straighten his posture and wrapped his arm around you.

Satoru had always been a bit too unaware of personal space around his friends but still kept the most intimate gestures private, and now, you found his arms more comfortable than ever.

“Are we going to wait here until they are ready?” you asked looking at the closed oven.

Satoru could feel you were leaning against him a little, and it made him smile. “Yeah, I think we can do that.”

***

Another thing Satoru considered himself to be was a reasonable man. However, not you nor Dr. Ieiri in all her wisdom, were finding much reason on what he was proposing right now.

The three of you were in Shoko’s office. You had gone there to ask her about one of your students who had gotten hurt during a mission. After she assured it had not been anything major and the girl would be fine, she let you chat her up while she reviewed a report on her computer.

It was then when you remembered the second reason why you had wanted to talk to her.

“Hey, Shoko, if you had the chance to get a free meal at a new luxury restaurant, would you be up for it?”

“That’s oddly specific for an if-situation,” she commented, keeping her eyes on the screen. “But sure. A free meal is a free meal.”

You nodded and proceeded to tell her how a friend of Ikeda’s had opened a new restaurant and invited him and his lucky invitees to a free dinner. “...And he said I should invite you.”

That made Shoko raise an eyebrow.

From what I saw at the store the other day, I would have thought he would prefer a table for two.

“I would feel like a third wheel,” she smiled knowingly.

“Why is that, Dr. Ieiri?” The question came from the open door behind you and from no other than Gojo in the flesh.

In a few strides, the man Shoko considered a living menace was fully in her office and in front of both of you. “Who would you be third wheeling?” Satoru repeated the questions with an ever-unfaltering smile.

Now then, Shoko had certainly noticed the change of atmosphere around Satoru and you, but she had been kind enough not to comment on it. Anyhow, even if she was still not entirely sure of what her observations meant, she still believed it unfair to be the one that was being questioned, so she looked at you intently.

[name], I'm so not about to tell him that your ex invited us to dinner.

Luckily for her, even if it was not through telepathy, the message got to you somehow, and you told Satoru the same you had just told Shoko: Ikeda’s friend, new restaurant, some sort of gratitude gesture, free dinner.

That was about it, but then, Satoru made the one question you had not expected him to ask.

“Can I come too?”

In theory, that should be fine. Haruki had told you it was a table for four, and he had only invited you but it would be great if you wanted to invite Ieiri so he could get to know one of your friends better.

While Ikeda had never shown any animosity towards Satoru from your perspective, the same was not completely true the other way around. Right, they were adults now, but was it a good idea to have them seat through a three-course meal at the same table?

“If that’s okay with him, that is,” Satoru said with a relaxed smile.

“Su-sure! I will just double check with him. It should be okay though,” you said, against your better judgement.

If Satoru had not been a sorcerer, he could have become a great actor. In some instances, when the situation demanded it, he had found himself able to conceal how he truly felt.

Did he really want to have dinner with Ikeda? Hell no, of course not. Nonetheless, he had not been able to bring himself to openly ask you if he had any reason to worry about Haruki. So why not just face the man himself and assess the situation on his own? That was precisely what he had thought when he overheard your chat with Ieiri.

And oh, would he regret it.

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

Note: Sometimes it's me and a cup of instant noodles against the world.

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XXIII

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[tsunamis-for-uzumaki]

MCR moments that send me to the 80% of the ocean we haven't seen yet

Here's parts of My Chem songs that make me feel feelings, in no particular order

The desperate, gritty, sad second "And we'll love again, we'll laugh again, we'll cry again, and we'll dance again", I could write an essay on this part I swear

Vampires will never hurt you: "I'll never let them hurt you, i pROMISE". I believe her every time

Also in vampires pretty much any of the distorted screams like the "COME ON"

ALSO ALSO vamps "Someone get me to the doctor and someone call the nurse" and the entirety of that verse - smashing my head on my desk pounding my fist on the ground palpitating my heart with my ribcage ahhhhh (we're done with vampires I promise)

"l i g h t u p t h e s t a g e a n d w a t c h m e KICK OUT THE JAMS"

Fronk's rabid dog backing vocals in Honey this Mirror

The final line in the Dead! bridge (Is that the most both of you can gi-i-i-ive?) literally leaves me Dead! every single time

The grief-stricked, utterly DESPERATE bridge of Helena

Any Ray Toro solo

But especially Vampire Money (when i speak of the milf it is he who i speak of)

And all of Mama's guitar tings (I am dead in Seattle SIR PLEASEDFRWSASRSEAEW-)

boy division

"I MISS YOU, I MISS YOU SO FAR"

Scarecrow Rocals

" ~ TAKE A TRAIN OUTTA NEW ORLEANS AND THEY SHOT ME FULL OF EPHEDRINE ~ "

early sunsets over monroeville

When all the instruments cut out in the intro to This is How I Disappear and G screams "GO"

Also the unhinged spiraling vocals and instruments during the breakdown of Disappear

The Light Behind Your Eyes

"WAKE UUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPPPP" - Sleep outro

"I AM NOT AFRAID TO KEEP ON LIVING, I AM NOT AFRAID TO WALK THIS WORLD ALONE" (I spontaneously burst into tears when I first heard this as a depressed 13-year-old, i will never forget that day)

The "WOO" at the very end of Headfirst for Halos

The harmonizing fuckworthy rayrard(?) vocals during "You and I" in Headfirst for Halos (there's probably more but it's most noticeable there)

Aw sugar

Desert Song. Especially the first verse

Mad Gear being so fucking old and so fucking alone in Mastas of Ravenkroft

"The World Is Ugly, but you're beautiful to me"

Also the Vampires reference in the World Is Ugly at the very end

Kiss the Ring: "Fist up, head down, Hail! (Hail!) to the King!"

The weird-ass high-pitched pussy-loaded submissive and breedable squeaky moan in the Sharpest Lives

The "ra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta" in Make Room!!!

"When both our CAAAAAAARRRRRSSSSSS COLLIDE"

Heaven Help Us

Planetary dance vibes

Welcome to the Black Parade breakdown bridge thing, and the climactic earth-shattering "I DON'T CARE WE'LL CARRY OONNN" that leveled new jersey

G dropping bars in Heaven Help Us (second verse)

The very rocals in the Ghost of You (Lotms version)

Also rocals "One, two, three, four!" In PP

The background "saaay goodbye"s in To the End

Also To the End funkiness

WE GOT A MEDICAL EMERGENCE MEDICAL EMERGENCY

That part in Tomorrow's Money where I misheard one part as "I fell in love with a vampire / 'M gunna throw you in the air fryer"

The complete incoherence of overlapping yelling and guitar noises before it all stopped with the last "Make Room!!!"

"YOU CAN FIGHT THIS ALL YOU WA-A-A-HANT" run in Surrender the Night

Demo Lovers Guitar Solo

This list will only get longer and longer

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

Warnings - Descriptions of gore, mischief making, family dysfunction, not proof read.

Author's note ● This is again apart of a 10k+ chunk I've split into three chapters for yall. So come on now... you know this is not going to be edited. Things are finally getting crazy and we finally getting in to it. Major Aemond and Visenya devilry is coming. As yes I did reference Storm's End at the end.

Word Count ~ 4.5k+

Tags - @mamawiggers1980

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi ● vii● viii ● ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

viii - 'Blood of Old'

The cascading light from the large window above created a harsh contrast to the dark umber stone walls of the Throne Room. On which, upon the Iron Throne sat King Viserys, decrepit and frail. Matters of the court had always been of grave disinterest to Visenya, to where she stood, amidst her family. Lucerys trial having been a matter of utter chaos so far, but Visenya found her mind drifting elsewhere – most entirely on what gifts she might be given from potential suitors.

She had narrowly tuned in upon the ramblings of Vaemond Velaryon as he petitioned the King that he, ought to be heir to the Driftmark throne over her brother. Of course, none of this was worth listening to, as it was merely the babbling of a scorned second son, jealous that he shall have to forge his own legacy rather than being handed one. She hadn’t bothered to listen to the delegation of the trial so far, only at times finding herself idly gazing upon any action that befell the court. Though it wasn’t enough to quell her desire to leave, she loathed standing for so long for her legs would always shake with impatience.

Her encounter with Aemond though, still present in the back of her mind. She had found it quite easy to stifle it for the rest of the afternoon – but admittedly, standing before the Green’s judgmental gazes instantly forced her to recoil back into her own mind. She could not bare the thought of meeting Aemond’s eye, his stance so stern and pious as he stood between Helaena and Aegon, who seemed equally disinterested.

It was the first she had seen of her eldest Uncle and Aunt, there was a small satisfaction that bloomed within Visenya knowing that Aegon hadn’t grown quite as tall as Aemond, who loomed quite considerably next to his siblings. Aemond was only a tad shorter than his Grandsire and hand to the King– Otto Hightower. Who like Aemond possessed a rather imposingly long and sharp gait.

The princess suddenly found her attention captured by the eerie silence that filled the hall, she looked to her father who’s mouth was curled in a wicked grin, “Say it.” He whispered to Vaemond, who stared so brutally at Lucerys.

His face turning into a smug, snivelling grin as he spoke and the sudden roar of his voice, caused Visenya to turn her head sharply, “Her children… are BASTARDS!” He bellowed.

Fuck.

It was the first word that entered the Princess’ mind, the first impulse of herself was not one of anger nor defence of her younger brother Lucerys, it was merely shock. Gasps and mummers trickled amongst the court as Visenya looked over to Jace, his jaw clenching. Luke on the other hand was panicked, his breathing turned to soft pants as he looked around the room, gauging everyone’s reaction. There was little time to react before Vaemond would land his second blow. He tilted his head, finding the eye line of her mother, who already clutched at the hand of Lucerys – a feeling of dread curdling in Rhaneyra’s belly.

“And she…” Vaemond spoke again in a mocking tone, he leaned forward before turning back to Viserys and continuing, “is… a whore.” The word slid of his tongue so effortlessly, as if he had thought it a thousand times before. Visenya supposed he probably had, for she had known that such vile whispers of her mother is what incited them to flee Kings Landing all those years ago.

The court erupted into a symphony of gasps and muttering, Visenya suddenly felt a bitter rage brew, she narrowed her eyes on Vaemond as she went to step forward but was surpassed her father Daemon.

The King suddenly rose from the throne, hunched over and unsheathed his Valyrian dagger, “I… will have your tongue for that!” Viserys growled.

Visenya then caught the reactions of the snivelling Greens, the ever pious Alicent and Otto feigning some form of shock, Helaena recoiling in discomfort. Visenya’s eyes scanned her looming uncle and watched with a harsh disgust as that slow, sharp smile curled itself upon Aemond’s pale face. His eye narrowed in a satisfaction which made the very bones in the princess’ body ache with hate.

The sharp slice of steel through flesh and shocked hollers of the court drew Visenya’s attention again, as before she knew it her father had drawn Dark Sister swiftly through Vaemond’s very head. His limp body thumping upon the ground, his tongue flickering with a gruesome squelch as

Daemon leaned his sword into the stone floor below, gazing with both satisfaction and disgust upon Vaemond’s bleeding body. The Rogue Prince spoke softly, “He can keep his tongue.”

“DISARM HIM!” Otto bellowed, guards rushing to subdue her father as he turned, chuckling.

 The princess looked over to her father who smirked softly in a sick delight as he wiped Dark Sister clean and spoke again. “No need.”

Visenya watched with wide eyes as her father sauntered away, her head slowly coming back to gaze upon the corpse that lay before the throne. The blood that pooled from Vaemond’s severed head, revealing the entrails of his very brain. She looked up and her eyes befell Prince Aemond, who stood so still, yet his locked eye upon Prince Daemon as he walked away, the glimmer of what could have been amusement or admiration or perhaps even loathing dwelled in that lonesome eye of his.

The princess looked down, hearing the moans of her frail grandsire, but all she could do was stare at her father’s work. She felt no sorrow for Vaemond Velaryon and was in truth, happy he was dead. Her father had solved a problem no doubt. What troubled her more was the curiosity she took in sickening image of sliced sinew and bone before her, blood pooling to her feet, though she did not step away, instead letting the bottom of her gown soak.

●

Visenya sat before her vanity once more, combing through her hair, which shone like streams of moonlight in contrast to her lightly bronzed skin. To which she could attribute such a flesh to her mother, who tanned easily and beautifully amidst the rays of the sun. She had since been forced by Rhaenyra to bathe and change from her blood stained gown, insisting she let the gown be done away with. Visenya however, thought it made little difference, after all.. it’s crimson anyway? The princess had beamed at her mother.

She now wore another gown, one of a deep garnet which fabric gleamed in deep tones of maroon in certain lights. Black threading trimmed its long bel sleeves, embroidery which upon closer look appeared like curling vines. Her hair left loose as always and long laced black boots upon her feet. Had she been on Dragonstone, she needn’t bother with the hassle of bathing and changing, upon getting her clothing stained – she would have been allowed to roam freely. However, Rhaenyra had made it especially clear that alongside her behaviour, her appearance was to be kept orderly – she would not give the Hightower’s anymore leverage against her as a mother. Especially since they had been summoned to supper with the King. All of them.

As the hour drew near, Visenya had managed to stop into the library, wanting to see the place she spent so much of her youth so desperate to avoid. Visenya gave the guard a small, polite nod as he opened the heavy set door. Unlike other parts of the Keep, the library had remained relatively unchanged, she had noticed the stark removal of Targaryen heraldry which once adorned the walls. The intricate tapestries which showed Targaryen’s and their dragons alike in the most intimate of acts. All such were replaced by seven pointed stars, it was clear that the Hightower’s had taken their place upon the throne, in her Grandsires absence. The place looked more like the fucking sept than her former home.

As she entered the hallowed hall of the library, she noted the high towering walls of books which covered the space. It was unlike that in Dragonstone, which was much smaller and disorganised. It was structured, with endless rows and shelves of all knowledge. Upon small table tops were melting candles all ablaze, attempting to illuminate the spaces in which one could read.

Only a few maesters still dwelled, one giving her look of uncertainty as the princess gawked at the magnitude of the space around her. She looked to one of the maesters, a small, darked skinned man who tended to one of the shelves. Visenya trotted over to him, aloof to the noise she was making.

“Where-" She began, her voice a harsh noise amidst the silence.

The maester flinched and turned his head, beginning to shush the princess before his eyes grew wide at the sight of the Targaryen before him.

He hung his head, “Princess Visenya I apologise.. I had not-" He muttered in a meek accented voice. Likely hailing somewhere from Essos.

Visenya gazed at him aloofly, tilting her head as she interrupted him, “Oh. No.. I did not mean to disturb you.”

“No, no… by all means, princess.” He spoke with a shaking reverence. Visenya loathed when people treated her this way. Like she was so fragile as if one misspoken word would end with their tongues severed. She wanted to shake them, to tell them she did not give a fuck. However, she had supposed news of her father quite literally killing a noble earlier that day, merely because he misspoke against Rhaenyra - had served as a bitter reminder that maybe those below her do have something to fear.

Visenya raised her brow and then, looked down nodding. “Where might I find the Valyrian works?”

The maester rose his brow, he turned and the flickering candles casted a golden gleam upon his skin, “Valyrian works? Histories and such?”

Visenya tilted her head, “Well, not exactly. In particular, the likes of works written in the time of Valryia? Works brought by the Conqueror; recounts or mayhap detailing of its culture..” She spoke softly, disarmingly.

The maester nodded quietly, gesturing for her to follow. They walked further to the back of library; she followed as he led her through the shelves to a dark, heavy door in the stone. The knob a cast iron head of an opened mouth dragon, with what seemed to be detailing of old Valyrian sigils around it. The maester reached to the side of the frame, his fingers searching before he pulled out a small slot in the stone, revealing a rather odd key. The wards upon the key were of intricate design, so much so that Visenya was certain only one would have been crafted. Upon its very tip bore a small spike and the maester turned, opening his palm for her to take, “One must bleed to enter.” He spoke softly.

“How do you mean?” The princess shook her head, her voice girlish.

The maester gestured for her to rise her hand, subliminally asking for permission. Visenya nodded, raising her palm for him to take. He brought the spike of the key to her finger, pressing gently upon the pad, letting a small slue of her blood coat it.  Visenya flinched slightly at the prickly pain, though the spike was particularly sharp, so it did not take much pressure. She raised her brow and the maester spoke once more. “Only that of blood of the dragon might enter freely.”

Visenya nodded, placing her finger into her mouth, gently sucking upon the small wound as she watched him place the key into the mouth of the dragonhead. The low rumbling of what must have been a rather strong barricade seemed to move as the maester spoke.

“A construction of Maegor the Cruel, built after the death of his mother Queen Visenya. Some say it was his mother’s last request, that Targaryen heraldry and histories be kept from the descendants of the Andals.”

Visenya raised her brow, “We’ve a library at Dragonstone? Where Queen Visenya herself, perished. There is quite the selection of Valyrian works there… but none are hidden this, thoroughly?”

The maester nodded, and gave the princess a knowing glance, his voice slightly amused, “Some also say Maegor was particularly paranoid.”

A cold gush of air hit her face as the maester pushed the chamber door open. They entered, and a spurl of mounted torches lit themselves. Clearly such works of magic, it was a surprise to the princess that, Queen Alicent hadn’t had the chamber walled off just to hand a seven pointed star upon it for good measure against such heathenry.

The princess perused the space, carvings of stone dragons in the corners of each wall. It was no bigger than a servant’s chamber, though adorned with Targaryen imagery. Most curiously, a narrow tapestry detailing the Conqueror’s journey to Westeros lined the top of the wall.

All its books were kept in shelves built into the stone itself. But it was a very a small and shallow alcove, which sat in the middle of the smallest wall in the chamber- that had caught Visenya’s eye. She looked to the maester who gave her a nod, waiting patiently by the door which had now, closed shut.

She reached the small shallow alcove, no bigger than chest one might keep storing treasures. It was arched in its shape, with Valyrian detailing etched in the stone around it. Visenya noticed the small, statue in its centre. A woman carved from steel… her hair braided down both sides, clasping a sword down her centre into the floor. The princess’ eyes narrowed further upon it as she realised it was but a small statue of Queen Visenya herself as the small etching of high Valyrian beneath it read, “The Conqueror’s first Queen.”

As the princess gazed upon it, she felt a sense of deep emotion befall her. There was something most overwhelming, primally familial about this place. The mere fact, Maegor the Cruel had made something so… beautiful in dedication to his mother, made her eyes burn with tears. Visenya reached out, her fingers grazed the small figure of her ancestor, feeling the cool steal against her. She reached out to take it into her hand, but found it was mounded to the stone, she pulled when suddenly the sound of unlatching metal rang true. It had seemed it was a small vault of sort and Visenya moved the masquerading alcove to the side, finding a very select amount of tomes within. There were but four books, all particularly whethered. But it was the smallest which Visenya found interest in, it was bounded in red dragon scale. Etched in were black markings in High Valyrian which simply read: Ānogar hen uēpa “Blood of Old”

She raised her brow and gently flipped through its yellowing pages, as she did so she felt an odd sense of pride and fear coil in her belly. Something familiar yet, dark about the text inside. She stopped, narrowing her eyes upon the words before her. Visenya was not yet entirely fluent in reading High Valyrian text. Though it was unmistakable, her eyes glazed over the strange depictions of markings on each page, her heart both roared with excitement and trembled when she realised it was a guide on Bloodmagic. Seemingly written by a Bloodmage of old Valryia… those who are the ones in which the Targaryen’s stem from, those in which merged their souls, their very blood with Dragons through these dark arts. Those who herald the name, blood of the dragon.  

She turned and gazed at the maester before nodding, “I’ve, uh, found what I was looking for.”

The maester bowed his head in understanding, turning slightly as he gestured back to the door, “You are most welcome to retreat back to the library, Princess.”

“Oh, no I wished to read in my chamber. I must go.” She stepped forward.

Visenya gave the maester a pleading glare, she tilted her head as the man averted her gaze, his voice meek, “Forgive me, we are not to allow such treasures to leave our care. Tis imperative none are lost.”

The princess scanned the man for a moment, it was clear the maester feared the prospect of a potential confrontation, so Visenya conceded and turned, placing the book back in the vault. She gripped the stone to force the alcove door shut and muttered, “Hm, well, I… I suppose I might be able to come back on the morrow then.”

As the Princess the made her way back to the maester, she gave him a small smile and there was a clear look of relief upon his face as he nodded, “Of course, Princess.”

With that, the two left the small chamber, and as the Princess exited she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of frustration, now she had no choice, she would HAVE to get up to mischief?  

After she had bid thanks to the maester, she made her way out of the library – her mind focused solely on the small book which held such forbidden secrets.  As she made her way into the now darkened halls of the Red Keep, the Princess found herself lost in her own thoughts – so much so she had realised it was now, well now past the hour she was supposed to have arrived with her family to dine.

She hurried through the darkening halls, slightly exhilarated as the memories of her childhood flooded through her. Her hair whipping past her as she narrowly dodged a few serving girls who were too, making their way to the dining chamber. Their giggles filling her ears as she scuffled past them.

As Visenya hurried, her family had well arrived at the Kings’ dining chamber. Princess Rhaenyra sat at the lavish table, tapping her finger upon the deep wood as her thoughts dwelled upon the whereabouts of her daughter. Only a seat over sat Alicent whose face coiled with a smug grimace at the thought of Rhaneyra’s inability to manage her own spawn. The tension between them obvious.

Alicent turned her head to gaze upon her former companion. She muttered softly, “I am sure the King shall arrive most promptly. He merely takes time to rise, given his condition.” Her words but a rouse.

Alicent, of course, knew Rhaenyra was not thinking of her father – though nonetheless it brought a strange joy to her to speak to the Princess again, even if it was in an attempt to call out her daughter’s tardiness.

The Princess sighed, muttering politely, “It is not my father’s absence which I seek answers to, it is- “

“Ah, of course. The Princess Visenya. Well, I am sure she merely is readying herself to dine, a girl of her age and… liberty must be sure to tend to her appearance.” Alicent interrupted, her tone dignified.

A familiar scoff left the lips of Prince Daemon, who slouched freely upon his seat beside Rhaenyra, “I do doubt that she is… tending to herself in the mirror for all this time.”

Alicent tilted her head, her tone incendiary, “Hm, mayhap she is lost then.”

“From across the hall?” Daemon countered.

The conversation had triggered a low chuckle from Prince Aegon, and it was now clear that the younger Targaryen’s scattered about the table were now peaked to the rising tension between their elders.

Another stark scoff left the Rouge Prince’s lips and he sat up, feeling inflamed by the Hightower leech who sat so piously across the way. The mere idea that Alicent would suggest that his daughter would be so half witted as to get lost from a straight forward trip across Maegor’s Holdfast seemed to sparked a great deal of irritation within the prince.

Rhaenyra, placed a hand on her agitated husband, speaking lowly, “Daemon…”

Alicent looked down, her voice low and careful, “Or has simply forgotten.”

Swiftly, Rhaneyra’s head turned to Alicent, her brow raised as she spoke incredulously, “Forgotten?”

“I suspect she must be rather occupied, seeing to potential suitors, I mean. It is no surprise she may forget of the King’s request. Given she is unwed… well, I remember how swiftly you became drained and... lack for socialising during your courtship, princess.”

Rhaneyra bristled, her shoulders gaining height as she spoke with a measured restraint, “The matters of my daughter’s courtship is… not something I wish to discuss so openly, your Grace.”

Queen Alicent bowed her head in concession, “Of course. I apologize.”

A strange silence befell the table, and Rhaenyra was flooded with all the reasons why she had left King’s Landing, all the foolish underhandedness of court and snivelling glares of the Hightower’s. She felt that discomfort rise in her throat, already she felt rather bloated and discomforted from the babe, but now even more so.

Rhaenyra took a breath and spoke softly, nodding as though nil troubled her, “I am sure, Visenya shall… bless us with her arrival soon.” The Princess looked over, her gaze weakened as she prayed to all God’s who would hear her, that her daughter did stay true to her word of not causing any further harm to her mother’s reputation. That she would walk up those stairs and have a reasonable explanation. Though, apart of her seemed to accept the opposite.

●

After many minutes of running past servants and fumbling over her feet, finally with a huff Visenya found the common entrance to the dining chamber. She drew in a breath, collecting herself before she walked up the small staircase, hearing the soft chattering of familiar voices. Huffing slightly. Deep voices mumbled, those of her two uncles as she traversed the steps,

“This is the first I've seen you drink.” Aegon grumbled

The clear voice of Aemond rang, “Does me drinking surprise you?”

“You do not drink enough.” The elder brother retorted

A scoff was heard before Aemond spoke again, “You drink more than a bravosi sealord.”

“I drink just the right amount.” Prince Aegon confirmed.

Visenya finally came to the top of the steps, instantly noting her two uncles, Aegon and Aemond standing before the arch which led to the table. Their bickering come to a stop as they noticed the Princess.

Her eyes landed upon her family, who all; even the Greens – stood and sat idly about the space in their own conversations. Where she had entered, she saw her mother and father sitting on the far right of the table, Alicent and Otto to the right. Both her mother and the Queen stiff as boards, clearly uncomfortable by the notion of having to be within each other's proximity. Her siblings clustered too at the furthest end, leaving of course both Aemond and Aegon, who simply stared at her as they stood.

Visenya caught the eyes of her mother first who gave her a smile of relief, Daemon beside her snickering at his daughter’s tardiness. Her siblings giggling too, giving her warm glances.

Though it was not the eyes of her faction bother her. But the Greens, Alicent and Otto both with raised brows, almost as though they were unsurprised by her general lateness, though shocked that she had managed to turn up before the King had arrived.

However, it was the eyes of the two Targaryen’s directly before her – her two uncles which she had felt linger the longest. She looked to them, Aegon standing with a goblet clutched in his hand, his brow raising a small gleeful smile came to his face as he leered upon Visenya. In front of him, stood his younger brother, ever the joy-killer; Aemond’s face remained stern, harsh as he pursed his lips at his niece.

His mind coiling with an explosion of emotions, judgement, hate, rage, jealously – but one that bothered him the most was that he seemed to stare longer than he’d like. Despite her wretchedness, she had grown rather comely… perhaps too comely considering her lack of husband. What a waste of a womb, Aemond thought.  

As Visenya stalked passed them she saw her siblings clustered by the far end of the table as she made her way towards them, she heard the low muttering of Aemond to his brother, “Even when the noose is so tight, they expect us to break bread?”

Funnily enough, the Princess could have agreed with her uncle’s assessment. It was absurd, the thought of having to make nice with those who drove her family from King’s Landing, those who have done nothing but sabotage her mother’s claim.

She gave her siblings a small smile, “How lovely you look.” Rhaena spoke gently, bowing her head.

Visenya grabbed her younger sister’s hand, gazing softly into her sister’s doe-like umber eyes, “As do you.”

“Do I look lovely too, sister?” Jace beckoned teasingly, his head tilting upwards from where he sat, clearly the prince was in good spirits with the news of his recent betrothal to Baela.

Visenya raised her brow, sitting at the end seat which was near her father’s. “Lovelier than the Maiden herself.” She crooned mockingly, hoping Alicent would hear such blasphemy. Her jest winning a small snicker from Daemon.

“You think so?” Jace smiled, turning his head to Baela who had now come to sit beside him. Following suit, Rhaena sat next to her sister, whereas Lucerys had joined Visenya on the end, sitting adjacent to his betrothed.

Baela gave him a sweet nod, snickering gently, “Indeed, your cheeks are positively rosy.”

The prince found himself slightly enjoying such a comment, he raised his brow in consideration and a scoff left Baela’s mouth as she rolled her eyes.

It was not too long before the King had ended up arriving, his sickly frame being carried by a grand chair which was placed between Alicent and Rhaenyra. All had now been seated, and of course, Aemond sat directly across from Visenya and her young brother Lucerys – his lonesome eye narrowing upon the dark haired boy.

It was clear, some old bones were still waiting to be picked, and the princess couldn’t help but feel a surge of discomfort at the clear storm that brewed within Aemond's eye.

○ix○

[angelkhi]

mirrorball - j.m

pairing: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader (3rd person)

summary: a gala isn’t your thing, dress shopping isn’t Joel’s. It’s a shame no one can get their way.

warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut in future parts, mentions of alcohol, references to being roofied, language, sexual themes (no actual sex), mentions of blood, joel is a massive dick. let me know if i missed anything!word count: 2.8k

a little note: it’s here! (kinda). ive been kinda busy (i graduated!) but also wanted to take my time with this, and maybe explore some aspects of writing that i usually skim over (my bad). i estimate that this will be maybe 3 parts? i hope i do it justice either way, this fic was born out of this hc, but mostly your encouraging responses. thank you for being so kind 🩷

series masterlist part two>>

For a price tag of almost three grand, her dress is itchy. Sure it's beautiful enough that the slimy little daddy's boys will fawn over her, and each superficial gold digger will give her one syllable compliments in an overly saturated tone, but it fucking itches. She hikes the material further up her thigh for the third time since the short car ride began, trying to scratch at her skin. Maybe it's an allergic reaction. She hopes so, that way she can avoid the event all together. She's half way to pulling her sleeve away from her shoulder, ready to scratch the irritated skin, but a firm grip around her wrist prevents her from that sweet sweet relief.

"Stop fidgeting." Joel's tone is clipped, the usual hint of strain pulling across his words. She swears she's never seen him relax, not since he became her live-in bodyguard anyway. She cuts her eye at him but of course he's not looking. The only time she ever really has his attention is if her life is in danger, other than that its pure nonchalance and ignorant glances. She can admire his desire to fulfil the position, what with the pay and free accommodation, hell if she had a real job she'd probably be just as uptight as him. But there's only so much a person can take.

"It's itchy." Of course she sounds like a whiny little brat. It's fine, that's all he thinks of her anyway, she's sure of it.

"Should've picked the other one then."

She almost laughs.

She had walked him around the store at least four times, each trip resulting in the same two dresses. She couldn't decide between the colours, then the length, and then the sleeves. In the end he forced her into the changing room, mumbling she either picks one of those or goes in nothing. They both know that's not an option. Both dresses felt nice, as nice as a constricting piece of fabric could feel, they both looked as nice as they could in the dreary washed out lighting. In the end she had asked Joel, who sat just the other side of the door, arms folded, shoulders tense, scowl mastered.

Joel isn't one for verbal communication, unless it's telling her to 'go here' or 'stay there' or his most frequented phrase, 'shut up'.

But his eyes say it all.

Sometimes it's a simple twitch, letting her know he's not as irritated as he lets on, others it's a slight squint. That's her personal favourite. That's when she knows she's got him right on the edge.

His eyes fix on her, moving slow and calculated over the second dress. The way the fabric moulds to each divot and curve of her body, lingering on her chest, on the slightly too high slit exposing her thigh. It's a clear winner.

His levels of exasperation had clearly spiked in the time it took for her to change again, his constant glaring, huffing and puffing dialled up to 100. His wide steps only seem to grow wider on the way to the checkout, his whole demeanour screaming get me the fuck out of here. Which is why she doubles back on herself, not needing to check if he's following, she knows he will.

She stops, a wide array of underwear in front of her. She takes her time, making sure to show each and every barely there pair to him, watching that eye twitch with a perfect mix of irritation and lightly tethered resolve.

He'd dragged her out of there in the end, though not after she held up the skimpiest pair of panties she could find. His hand wraps tight around her arm, not enough to hurt her, she knows he'd never do that. But enough to tell her she's officially pushed his buttons a little too much.

Soon enough the car rolls to a slow stop in front of a grand building. Stone columns tower over her when Joel leads her from the car. She likes to pretend it's not in his job description, that instead he's simply just an emotionally constipated gentleman, but she's not stupid enough to believe it. Still, when his hand finds the small of her back, when he guides her up the steps and into the vast museum-turned-ballroom, it's hard to believe that his behaviour is entirely obligatory.

The event is just as grand as she expected. Her father certainly has no trouble with throwing his wealth around, even less so when it presents the opportunity to show just how wealthy he is. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm twinkling light over the guests. An sizeable portion of an orchestra plays dreary classical music from the back of the room, and the guests are filling the space, drinking overpriced champagne and nibbling on bite sized canapés.

She waltzes through the sea of false affluence, painting on her best smile, choosing her most pleasant tone, saying all of the right words. She embraces her father heartily, pushing down the small piece of resistance when he pulls her close. She puts on a good, exhausting show. The only thing that keeps her grounded is Joel, hot on her 5-inch heels, anticipating her every move, being ten steps ahead of her.

She's seated with a handful of the elite from the gathering, laughing when they relay the same stories as always, gasping and feigning surprise when they compliment her. She eats the bland food with a sweet smile and laughs off propositions from parents who just know their son would be a perfect match for her.

In between convoluted speeches, she listens to them drone on about their latest investments, or how well their darling daughters are performing in their ballet classes. She smiles, she drinks. she laughs. She's the perfect daughter. The luckiest girl in the room, with the richest daddy and all the luxuries life could offer. But sat at that table, choking down specs of gold in the dry champagne, she feels more akin to the age old scrolls and scriptures.

A caged artefact, another one of her father's prized possessions, on display to be gasped at. She'd give anything for the glass to shatter, for tiny shards to rain down on each and every person in here. She'd marvel in their horror as they learn they bleed the same as everyone else on this planet. That they're not special, and neither is she.

From the corner of her eye, she spots Joel hiding in the shadows, standing to attention. His eyes constantly scan the room and every few seconds, they're on her. She almost feels bad for practically ogling him whilst he's doing his very best to keep her alive. But his black suit fits his form so well it'd be a sin not to look. She watches as he readjusts his cufflinks for the third time, the material catching around his biceps, the single button clipped across his stomach almost straining with every moment.

Yes, Joel is an insufferable bastard, but he's an unfathomably good looking one. His stoic behaviour is almost forgiven on that basis alone.

A round of applause pulls her from her Joel induced trance. She fixes her smile and joins in, nodding jovially with those around her. Not soon enough, she's free to leave the table, thanking them for their company, and heads straight for the bar. She feels Joel's presence before she sees him, perching a few seats down, eyes still wondering.

She doesn't pay much attention to the man next to her. His suit probably cost more than what most people make in a year, and his charming smile is more snake-like. She smiles when he pays for her drink, laughs and touches his arm, letting him think he has a chance. He's been talking about his most recent investment in overseas stocks for ten minutes, and all she wants is to go home and take off these fucking uncomfortable heels. To be able to breathe without the rigid dress digging into her skin. She wants to be alone, or as alone she can be with her human shadow.

"... and profits are at an all time high. My old man reckons I'll be taking over from him soon enough" The man, Matt? Mike? Manny, speaks. She flashes him a smile.

"Wow. That's amazing." Or at least she hopes it is, he could be talking about his dead childhood pet for all she knows.

"Let me buy you another drink?" He asks. Though it's more of a demand, he's already flagged down the bartender, ordering something sweet and fruity her, and a "real man's" drink for himself.

"You got the last round. I'll get these." She pretends to root around in her too-small purse knowing he'll decline, they always do. Men like him take any chance to throw their money around, wave it in peoples faces, impress the men and woo the ladies.

By the time she's ended the facade, he's waving his amex at her dismissively, nudging the drink towards her. Once again she smiles. She doesn't even want the drink, certainly not in his company.

His beady eyes watch her, a hint of something beneath the thick layer of painted on charm. That snake-like nature increases tenfold and it takes everything in her not to tip the drink down the front of his Givenchy shirt. The glass is barely in her hands when it's ripped from her hands, the familiar scent of Joel invading her space.

His face is taught, that scowl he loves so dearly gone, in its place pure rage. His eyes are dangerously dark, and she's sure if she looked hard enough, there would be smoke blowing from his ears.

It all happens so quickly. The sloshing drink flies from the glass straight into Manny's face, dripping down onto his clothes, turning his sickly white suit into a damp shade of pink. Then Joel is moving, slamming the empty glass onto the bar and gripping the terrified man by his collar.

She can feel the eyes of almost everyone at the gala trained solely on them, she almost expects the music to come to a screeching halt.

She can barely make out Joel's enraged words, despite the silent crowd. She's barely aware of his hand gripping her arm, pulling her through the parting guests. A sea of shocked faces, some sympathetic others purely confused. She stumbles on the top step, her stupid heels and Joel's insane pace working against her. The world turns upside down, and her hands reach out to brace herself, hitting his sturdy back. Even with a layer of clothing between them, she swears she can feel his bare hands across the back of her thighs, the tight muscle of his shoulder pressing against her stomach.

He's thrown her over his shoulder. Like a damned child. And now he's shoving her into the back of the car, as though she's the one that threw a tantrum and caused a scene. He rounds the car and slips in beside her, and they're speeding off back towards her apartment.

The last few minutes slowly slip from a hazy blur to a sharp reality, and she can't help but stare at him. Confusion and pure embarrassment hit her first, then comes the anger. He speaks to the driver for a second, and then the partition is rolling up again.

The car feels ten times smaller and itching of her dress is long forgotten. She wants to ask him what happened, why he dragged her out of there like an insubordinate child, but he's busy typing on his phone, making hushed calls as though a whisper wouldn't travel the few feet of space between them. His chest heaves, small tufts of hair peaking through the now open buttons of his shirt, the once neat tie hanging loosely from his collar.

He barely looks at her the whole time. Even as he helps her out of the car, or guides her into the elevator, or pushes open her front door, bolting it behind them. She throws off the heels the moment she steps into the large living room, knocking an ornament sideways. Not even that gets his attention.

"Sunshine secured." He speaks into his wrist, a small undetectable microphone hidden in one of the cufflinks. Sunshine. She remembers it like yesterday, the first time he'd called her that. She'd stumbled into the kitchen after a late night, barely acknowledging the hulking man sat at the island. She remembers the exact moment his eyes met hers with that all consuming gaze and the slight quirk of his lips as he studied her from head to toe, then in that deep texas drawl, uttered morning sunshine.

She had quickly come to learn it was not as endearing as it seemed. Joel doesn't do endearing.

There's a growing urge to throw something, at a wall or at him is still undecided, so she crosses her arms across her chest instead. She calls out his name, though it falls on deaf ears, his nose buried in that stupid phone of his. She tries again, and again until throwing something doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore. Finally, he grants her the privilege of his attention and she considers for a moment, if that's all she wanted. Not answers, just his acknowledgement. He raises an eyebrow, his nonchalance pushing her over the edge.

"What was that?" It comes out as a high pitched shout, rather than the calm and controlled manner she had hoped.

Once again, he quirks his brow saying nothing any everything . This doesn't concern you, or are you really that stupid?

"Joel, you just threw a drink on someone and dragged me out of a room filled with hundreds of people. You would think that warrants an explanation!"

He has the nerve to huff and shake his head, shoving the buzzing phone in his pocket and takes a step towards her.

"You want an explanation." He eyes her again, focusing on the slow curve of her dress. "There was a threat. I eliminated it."

She scoffs, "You were being a dick."

"I was doing my job."

"Oh that's what it was! Your little tantrum was you doing your job?" She's aware that she's now the one throwing a tantrum, not that she cares when he's acting so high and mighty, as though the status of his role outweighs her own peace of mind.

"Go to bed." His phone buzzes again, he ignores it. "It's been a long night and I have a bunch of shit to deal with."

"Are you being serious right now? You just humiliated me in front of everyone. Was carrying me down the steps really that necessary?" If she was itching to throw something a few minutes ago, she's desperate now. Maybe her shoe, right in his face.

"He would've done a lot worse Sunshine, now go to bed." For fucks sakes.

"No! Not until you tell me what is going on."

He sighs, pinching the small bump along the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. He does this a lot, when he's trying not to yell at her or even better still, quit his job. He shoots her a pointed look.

"If you weren't so busy flirting with your little boyfriend, you would've noticed him slipping something in your drink." His words are met with a long silence, and the space between them seems to stret even further.

The dress feels tighter, and she wobbles a little, though this time she can't blame it on the shoes. She was wrong. He hasn't humiliated her in front of everyone, he'd done it in her own home.

"Unzip me." Her voice is clipped. She's not sure if she wants to scream or cry. Maybe both. He hesitates for a moment, but then he's there right behind her pulling the zip down so torturously slowly, the soft brush of his knuckles on her skin threatening her with a shiver. She almost hates herself for it.

He steps back, but she doesn't face him. The dress slides off easily, leaving her in barely anything not that she cares. She's already humiliated herself enough, what's another notch in the belt? She gathers up the crumpled fabric, wanting nothing more than to throw it in the bin, and walks down the hall pausing at her door. She turns to him. She refuses to let him have the last word, he doesn't deserve it, not tonight. With tears already threatening her voice and Joel's beyond sour mood she's not sure she cares much either. Making sure to look directly into his eyes, she bares herself, lets him see the hurt he has caused.

"Fuck you."

She makes sure the door slams behind her, leaving him alone in the dark.

[inawearyworld]

free if you truly wish to be: chapter iv

shit goes DOWN. as y'all have probably gathered. bc. yknow. the plot of the movie. but first there's a song yayyyyyyyyy

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.5k

god, i love musicals.

(edit: realized after posting that i was looking at the wrong page of the screenplay while writing this and therefore royally screwed up the song structure of a world of your own but it’s fiiiiiiine)

once again, thank you mat for that interview taking a typical one-dimensional dahl villain and letting him be a more complex character. also i should probably throw a content warning on this one for depiction of a slightly abusive relationship

but i promise everything's gonna be okay soon-happy new year everyone!!

part three fic masterlist part five

While going through a time of personal growth involving trying to unravel one’s identity from that of one’s rich and powerful husband, it often happens that there are advantages to said husband being wrapped in worry over a new business rival-and, therefore, spending far more time at the office.

Wren’s favorite advantage at the present moment was that she was the only one to watch the mail come in.

Deep purple stationery was the signal she looked for-and steadily received, then returned with her own emerald letters-every day. The notes included scrawled updates regarding the operation to allow the earnest young chocolatier his day in the sun, anecdotes about the group of launderers that supported it (who she’d snuck out to meet often enough that they now felt like a second family), tales of a mysterious orange man, and exchanges of advice, witticisms, and Shakespeare quotes.

The handwriting was inexperienced, and there were more than a fair share of spelling errors toward the start of their correspondence, but she didn’t care a whit.

We’ve got the shop, Willy had written one day. For now, the task is digging through its decrepit debris and designing its decoration. (The credit for those words goes to Noodle-she says hello.) There are so many possibilities, I barely know where to start.

Start with the “why”, Wren wrote back. That’s what I always do. If there’s a piece I’m struggling to sing and I lose motivation to practice, I go back to the reasons I love the piece, even all the way back to the reasons I love the arts in the first place. Maybe there’s something in there for your shop-what made you want to share your chocolate with the world? (And hello to you too, Noodle!)

My dear Wren, came the reply, you’ve just given me the best of ideas.

He told her then about his mother and the inspiration she provided. Wren would be lying if she’d said a tear hadn’t fallen onto that particular letter.

As for how to keep him safe from the Cartel, police, and every other corrupt authority, Wren did her part by becoming Florence again whenever necessary. She acted less suspicious around her husband, leading him to be less secretive-although the gain in information was miniscule, it was better than nothing.

Felix’s rages would range anywhere from tittering, jealous rants to scheming monologues during which his whole being seemed to take on a lower, darker, more calculating tone. She’d listen carefully to all of these, tactfully calling out anything that might get him to consider he was wrong, but that had little to no effect.

Plan B, then, she’d realized, is all I can do.

So, whenever Felix seemed particularly incensed or just on the verge of coming up with how to destroy his rival, Florence would swoop in with wine and dark lipstick and a low-cut dress. She’d endure being his caged pet songbird, his doll, his perfect plaything, only because she had the growing feeling that things were about to change.

If Willy’s shop becomes successful enough to be completely undeniable, maybe the Cartel will finally acknowledge him as an equal. Maybe I’ll finally be seen as an equal, too. Maybe things will finally be truly fine.

So, night after night, she’d sit on her husband’s lap, twirl his tie, and kiss his neck until he’d forgotten the name of Wonka.

The same could not be said for her.

~

Due to just how glamorized she always had to be while in public, it didn’t take much to come up with disguise enough to be able to visit the new shop on its opening day.

With a fluttering sense of hope, Wren approached the fourth building of the Galeries Gourmet, blending in seamlessly with the sea of soon-to-be-wonderstruck passers-by. She cast a few nervous glances to the window of the Fickelgruber office, at which the man stood in his usual stance. There was no chance, though, of his recognizing her trademark ginger flame amongst the crowd; it was safely tucked under a dark, low-brimmed hat.

This could have set her mind at ease, but the fact that he looked even more smug than usual as he surveyed the ground below him made her nervous.

Did they plan something?

She was distracted from this worry by a sudden flash of color at the long-empty shop’s door. Willy Wonka stepped through, looking more himself than she could have ever imagined. He addressed the crowd with a flourish, and she marveled at his ability to combine showmanship with authenticity.

He took a skeptical older man’s arm, leading him to the shop’s entrance, and began to sing.

All at once, the shop transformed before all of their eyes, flooding with color, and the music settled into a sparking pulse that thrilled Wren to the core.

Willy grinned, fully in his element, and the doorway went dark. Gloved hands presented chocolate wonders as their creator sang them into existence. When he lit a match, the store seemed to come alive, and Wren gasped.

If his letter was anything to go by, the sight he had created was an homage to his childhood on his mother’s boat, brought to life in a way nearly too beautiful to be true.

Willy and the other man danced up a bridge of sorts as his song continued, proudly offering his shop as a world for each of his customers to call their own. Overtaken and lifted by the enchanting environment, Wren squealed with the rest of the crowd and ran into the shop, ripping the hat from her head and allowing her auburn curls to tumble freely down.

She threw her head back and laughed aloud. Her lack of makeup, and plain blouse and skirt replacing the usual emerald-colored finery, gave her assurance that she wouldn’t be recognized here; this was the closest thing she’d experienced to liberation in a very long while, and she relished it, along with the sweetly simple soar of Willy’s voice across his song.

When she looked up at him again, he was sitting on the boat that floated on the circling chocolate river, and she noticed he’d already been staring with a sideways grin. As the bassline that came from nowhere launched into a rollicking chromatic vamp, he tipped his hat to her, and she gave an enamored wave.

The second verse passed, and suddenly he’d reached her, extending a hand which she took without a second thought. He helped her onto the boat, then pulled her alarmingly close, but before she could say a thing about it, a cloud of smoke appeared around them.

Wren blinked and realized that she and Willy were now at the base of the massive chocolate tree in the center of the shop.

“How did you-”

But he only smiled and started to dance his way up the tree.

“A world of your own,” he sang, then gestured an invitation straight towards her.

This’ll be easy enough, she thought, nearly bursting with joy.

“A place to escape to,” she continued, running farther up the tree to meet him in the middle. His expression filled with awe upon finally hearing her sing, and they began a whirling back-and-forth.

“A world of your own-”

“-where you can be free!”

“Wherever you go, wherever life takes you…”

“This is your home,” she sang to him, twirling herself into his arms and beaming with pride. He’s found it-he’s created it.

“A world of your own,” they finished. He looked at her for a moment, seeming struck, then kissed her hand and disappeared through the branches of the tree to continue with the song’s bridge. She let out a dazed and happy breath, taking a moment to let her gaze roam the shop from her perch in the chocolate tree.

She didn’t know what would happen next, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t let herself enjoy this moment.

~

What did happen next was…as an understatement, not what any of them had hoped.

She wished she could say it was a complete surprise, and she wished she could have done more to stop it. The candy started having disastrous effects, the customers understandably balked, and it was clearly not Willy’s fault in the least. In a blur, the shop was in ruins, and Wren sat in shock with the little group who’d worked so hard to make it magical.

The candyman himself was devastated; not just by the massive setback, but by the absence of his mother’s spirit. Wren and Noodle sat by his side, but Abacus ushered them up. It broke Wren’s heart to think of leaving him like this-if the truest and most trusting dreamer on Earth can be broken down, where’s the hope for the rest of us?-but she somehow still felt she had to follow the group out.

She felt a hug around her waist and a held-back sob, and looked down to see Noodle clinging onto her. Wren immediately knelt to her level and hugged the girl close, finding it hard now to keep back her own tears.

“Terrible shame what-”

“Florence?”

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her breath dropping to the floor.

Slugworth had spoken first, a smooth and practiced opening to what would have turned into a gloat. The voice that had interrupted him was genuinely shaken and clearly belonging to her husband.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Noodle, who nodded. “You can go, you shouldn’t have to see this-”

“Florence,” his voice came again, at a loss. She took a breath, stood up, and faced him with tears in her voice.

“Hi, Felix.”

Silence.

Slugworth looked with growing puzzlement between the woman and the girl, and Felix could only stare at his wife with dawning realization.

“You’ve been working with him,” he said simply, every usual quirk of inflection having vanished.

For a moment, the wash crew surrounded her in an attempt at a shield, and she heaved a breath to keep back a sob-of fear, of gratefulness for these friends that had become family over the past weeks, of everything suddenly crashing down.

“I’ll be okay,” she said quietly to the wash crew and perhaps to myself. “You all should go. Like you were going to. I’m sorry.”

They didn’t move.

She looked at Piper, whose worried hand was on her arm. There was an unspoken vow of protection between the women in that moment, but Wren’s eyes pleaded, so Piper nodded sadly, took Noodle’s hand, and the group left.

Wren was almost afraid to look at Willy, but she did; the boy was staring at the old chocolate bar in his hands, looking as if he could barely process a thing.

The sympathy in her gaze must have been far too obvious, because she suddenly heard footsteps, felt a hard grip on her wrist, and gasped in pain as it was yanked up and backwards.

“Darling,” Felix hissed with a sinister edge, though his voice was breaking, “I don’t know how or why this betrayal-”

“Betrayal?” she finally cried out, breaking free from his grasp as Willy rushed between them. “You lot have just poisoned dozens of innocent people, all for a business rivalry, and I won’t-”

“If you want your family not to starve, you had better lower your voice,” he barked.

Every speck of air seemed to leave the room.

“...My family?”

“I may have been distracted enough for the past weeks to ignore the mail that came in and out of our house, but I had not always been that blind. I thought your compassion to be an incomprehensible gesture, but I let it slide. When I felt like it.”

…They haven’t gotten everything I’ve sent.

They haven’t-

“In fact,” he continued, “it served as what was almost a pleasant reminder of the truth. For your family, for your stupid dream, and for your sweetly dependent soul-you need me.”

“If you knew I was poor, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it’s the same way for me!”

This was the peak of what had been a building explosion, and this was the moment in which they both remembered there were other people in the room.

“What?” the four besides him breathed, almost in unison.

“Oh, you heard right,” Felix launched into speech, the characteristic gestures starting to work their way back into him. “I came from nearly nothing, just the same. But I did what I had to do to climb to the top. I cast them all away, left my old life behind completely, and I suppose it was a foolish hope to think my wife would do the same. But she-but you-you are nothing but a guileless, deceitful bleeding heart.”

“I…”

Tears blurred her vision.

“I am…genuinely sorry that you felt you had to hide your past, but that doesn’t excuse trying to make the rest of the world match your insecurity and fit your little chocolate mold. And if that makes me a bleeding heart…I’m proud of the title.”

For a moment, the man looked as if he would allow his wife’s words to affect him.

Then his face, normally so expressive, turned completely cold.

She’d lost him.

She’d never truly had him to lose.

But she looked at Willy, and she thought of the wash crew, and she realized she finally had a truer support system. And if she could try to start over, find some other way to earn money to send to her family without interception, and some other way to reach the dreams that felt so far away at the moment, she knew Felix would be wrong: she didn’t need him.

After a long silence, Slugworth cleared his throat.

“Get her out of here. We have business with Mr. Wonka.”

What?

Her and the younger man’s eyes widened, and they grabbed each other’s hands on instinct, but a small number of policemen came around the corner of the shop door at Slugworth’s order. They clamped hands on her shoulders and dragged her away from Willy as the Cartel stood silently and watched.

“Wait-wait, no, I-”

“Wren-”

She struggled, fought, kicked, but was forced into the backseat of a police car-

“Let me go, you corrupt bastards-”

“Wren-”

“Let me-”

“Just drop her somewhere in town,” Felix said coolly. “Somewhere that isn’t my home.”

“WREN!”

The car door was slammed, and the last thing she saw was the Cartel advancing on a dazed Willy, opening a suitcase of cash.

All she could do was scream, and the scream turned into a cry.

They did indeed drop her somewhere. She burst out of the car the second it had stopped, and the officers drove away without a word.

Sick with worry and trying to regain her breath, she looked around, almost fainting with relief when she saw the laundry building. Piper, having heard the commotion, stood outside, and they looked at each other for a moment before Wren fell sobbing into her arms.

This is not over.

[iristars-exe]

Reasons why I think the remaining moon in Teyvat’s sky is alive.

Before I start I’d just like to say that this theory contains major spoilers for Chapter V Act IV. Proceed at your own risk.

This theory is gonna be really short, it’s basically just a combination of few small observations about the moons with no actual clever conclusion, I’m not sure if it can even be called a theory haha, have fun reading my rant I guess lol :)

If you did heed my spoiler warning and completed Act IV of the Natlan Archon Quest before reading this, then you would know that after 4 years we FINALLY have confirmation that the sky is indeed fake as the fatui have previously claimed.

Beyond the fake sky, we can see fragments of an unknown broken celestial body, I would like to propose that this celestial object is in fact the corpse of one of the three moon sisters.

In genshin we have multiple legends about the moon sisters, unfortunately I can’t remember which books/weapon descriptions referenced them but I’m pretty sure that in some sources all 3 moons died while in other sources 2 died and the remaining moon locked herself up in her palace as a result of her grief over her 2 dead sisters.

Now take a look at those 2 moons side by side

The broken moon may be hard to see but it’s visible if you squint, idk about you but the broken moon clearly looks dead to me, especially in contrast to the moon in Teyvat that we’re familiar with.

This contrast is why I think the version of the moon sisters legend that claims one moon is still alive and locked herself up is more likely to be true that the version that claims all three died and the ( non-broken ) moon is the corpse of one of the sisters, I mean the moon in Teyvat clearly looks more alive than the one beyond the fake sky…and if we assume that the moon in the loading screen, the moon in the overworld, and the moon in the spiral abyss are all the same moon viewed from different angels then I think it’s more likely that this particular moon is the only living moon sister left.

Admittedly this “theory” is not too strong because I don’t have much evidence aside from these small observations and bits of assumptions, but I still think it’s cool to think about :)

Reasons why this theory is probably wrong:

it’s unlikely that the moon in the loading screen, the overworld and the spiral abyss are all the same moon, mainly because the moons in the loading screen and spiral abyss never move unlike the one in the overworld, also the moon in the spiral abyss is probably underground.

the moon in Teyvat’s sky could very well be as fake as the stars themselves, meaning it might be a recreation/hologram(?) cast by celestia or the heavenly principles to give the impression that there’s a moon present in the night sky, which means said moon may not even be one of the moon sisters from the legends.

if we assume that all 3 moons are dead and that the moons in the 3 locations I listed multiple times are all different, then that implies that we’ve already seen all 3 corpses and that the broken celestial body behind the fake sky might not be a moon at all, alternatively it could be the other world just outside Teyvat, you know like the world Khaenri’ah spied upon from beyond the fake sky and the second of the two worlds mentioned everywhere in Arlecchino’s boss fight ( and other places )

Now that I think about it what if the broken celestial body is actually the destroyed home world of Aether and Lumine…I mean it’s possible, right ?

And that’s the end of this short but very cracky theory, I hope my explanation was clear enough ( I know it wasn’t (-_-') ) if you can help explain it better somehow or can think of any evidence to help prove/disprove my theory I’d be happy to listen ! Thanks a lot for sticking around and reading to the end, it means a lot :D

[evelili]

I just finished your Magnum Opus, and it was super great. I especially loved the Pinkie chapter (which surprised me because she’s my least favorite character!). Anyway, do you have any mlp fic recommendations?

oh boy do i have a list for you, strap in!

if you read my magnum opus writeup, you may have seen i mentioned three authors that dragged me back into mlp. if you're interested in sciset (and what's probably the most popular eqg fic on the entire site), Long Road to Friendship by Albi is a longfic that started after the first eqg movie and is a rlly lighthearted read. i don't normally care for OCs but gosh if i dont accept Albi's version of trixie's parents as canon in my heart haha. if you're interested in pony adventure fic, i also rlly liked Sunset of Time, another rlly well done longfic ive carried in my brain since i first read it xd

the second author, Monochromatic, aka the raritwi authority aka someone who has a GREAT taste in editors, has written three of the most formative longfic ive ever read: The Enchanted Library, its sequel The Enchanted Kingdom, and Crimson Lips which i unfortunately can no longer link since she's taken it down, but i believe you can still buy physically through PFP if you wanted to take a gamble on it (it would be a very good gamble). apart from her longfic though i also adore some of her shorter works, including but not limited to The Choices We Make, a really interesting Pinkie study that's definitely shaped how i view her, Your Own Worst Enemy, which is just. peak rarity content, and Injuring Eternity, which while being one of her older works still has certain passages that wreck me emotionally on sight.

and the third author responsible for my magnum opus is the one and only Aragon, who i can not only recommend for his fics but ALSO for his blog posts and comics (see the comic index on his profile for links to all of them, as well as this amazing blogpost about his neighbour that is just peak comedy). he's also the writer responsible for the banger longfic Crime and Funishment which absolutely defined my writing aspirations for a few years and is the definition of comedy if you looked it up in my heart, as well as In Hindsight, yet another banger rarity fic, and Love Is In Doom which is just bloody, silly, stupid fun (and has sunset shimmer in it)

and then if we want to talk fics i love written by other authors, Sleepless Knights by r5h has my favourite brand of scitwi written right into the margins, Administrative Angel by horizon has one of the most amazing endings to an opening chapter ive ever read AND an amazing celestia, The Best Night Ever by Capn_Chryssalid is a fandom classic with a groundhog day twist on the gala episode from s1, Side by Side by Krickis is a feel-good rarijack oneshot w a focus on lgbt (specifically trans) themes, Wax Earplugs by Reedhoarse has a dysfunctional mess of an adagio dazzle that i adore, Merge Request by FanOfMostEverything has all the scitwi/midnight shenanigans you could ask for wrapped up in the relatable content of github hell, Guppy Love by PaulAsaran is a rarijack longfic with an incredibly realistic setting and an interpretation of mermaids that i love so much, Doused Flame by heartlessons has me handshaking on the "sopping wet pathetic relatable guy" flash sentry interpretation that won me over recently, 80 Days 'Til the World's Farthest Shore by Cynewulf feels like reading a professionally published short story (and i mean that in the best of ways, it's enthralling), and finally if you'll allow me to be self-centred a bit i also am very proud of my two oneshots Heartstrings and Something About Midnights if you wanted to check em out too xd

oops long post!! im not sorry for it, i hope you can find something in here that catches your fancy (or even all of it haha), there's soooo many incredible fics in the fandom it floors me every day that i can read all these incredible works for free!!!

[callsign-rogueone]

ok but!! ive been reading some fw theories in the subreddit, and one that has a lot of diff opinions on is whether liam has a second signet or if he was wielding ice in that scene, especially since deigh’s name means ice. what are your thoughts, do you think it was just a mistake?? and what about liam in your universe?

[insert that clip of Cardi B going: “I’m glad you brung it up because I’ve been dying to talk about this for a minute”]

FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT. this ramble is not going to be proofread, nor supported with textual evidence, because I have a migraine. but if anyone wants to jump in with page numbers and quotes or things I missed / got wrong, please feel free! 

in short: I think it’s possible that Liam did have a second signet.

first, my only hangup on this theory: what are the odds of two riders in the same squad, in the same year, having the same signet (Ridoc and Liam)? I know some signets are more rare than others, but that’s still a very slim chance when there’s 20+ signets out there that we know of, and RY will probably come up with more (fr, I need to know what Garrick and Aaric's signets are. I hope they're something unique, that we haven't seen yet.) but here are a few arguments in favor of two-signet Liam:

one: I don’t think it was just “RY putting the wrong name”.

Ridoc wasn’t there at Resson, so RY would have to have confused the two boys entirely for it to be a mistake. besides them both being perfect little bbs and adoring fans of Violet, they’re not alike in appearance, dragon color, nor backstory -- what is Ridoc’s deal? like why did he want to become a rider? I need to know for my next gfverse chapter 😭 and the mistake would also have to slip past multiple rounds of editors and proofreaders as well, which is possible, but not probable.  and was Ridoc's signet even confirmed at that time? maybe this is me forgetting things, because ADHD, and it’s been a while since I’ve read FW in full, but the first time I remember hearing about Ridoc’s signet is in Iron Flame — when they’re at RSC and he’s like “I could force the locks open with ice”. that confused me at the time because I didn’t know about (or remember) his signet. and then it really clicked for me later, when he makes an ice pack for poor Brennan after Mira decks him lmao. is it mentioned earlier than that? when I search “ice” in my FW ebook it shows me every instance of “voice” and "nice" and “office” etc., too, and I'm not scrolling through all that 🙄 and neither of the reference sites I like to use have a page number listed for him getting his signet or the first time it’s mentioned. as another aside: look how gorgeous Ridoc is here. smash. EDIT TO ADD: it is mentioned in Fourth Wing, in one line on page 289 (as identified by @hockeyspiral23 - thank you!) but he doesn't actually use it. no wonder my adhd brain forgot about it when there were bigger issues at hand lol they also pointed out that it could still have been a mistake, if RY meant to have it be another one of the barely-mentioned marked riders who aren't part of the main gang, as ice-wielding is "a common signet" (FW p. 289), and there were a few students we never really met apart from Resson (including Masen and Soleil. RIP.) so it could have been one of them. another possible explanation that I just came up with for the mistake category -- unreliable narrator? the events of that day were incredibly distressing for Vi, and she literally gets poisoned and loses consciousness and doesn't wake up for three days (following the theory that FW and IF are her diary, written in an ancient language and translated by Jesinia later) so it could have been a blur / hard to remember and VIOLET could have gotten it wrong. If I were RY, and it was a genuine mistake, this is the explanation I would give lmao

two: Deigh meaning ice is another tally in the “not a mistake” column.

RY likes to have the dragons' names refer to their current rider's signets. (Tairn = thunder, Aimsir = weather...) but not all of them match (Tiene = fire, I think, and Mira makes shields.) Liam and the ice is only mentioned once, at Resson, but there are many characters who we don't see getting their signet -- really just Vi's sex-induced lightning, and a mention of Sawyer nearly killing someone in a swordfight on accident. and Sloane's siphoning, too. okay, maybe this isn't a great point. but I still want to hear how they figured these things out! especially Bodhi. and Xaden's second one. poor thing couldn't tell anyone, even his best friend, and had to figure out how to manage it entirely on his own (he had Sgaeyl, but that's it.) and maybe Liam didn’t realize he had the ice until Resson, and just started slinging icicles at the wyvern once he figured out that he could. though that's kinda unlikely, I guess, since he would have channeled in November or December and Resson wasn't until July... hm.

three: Deigh could have been the dragon of Liam's relative, giving him a second signet like Xaden has with Sgaeyl.

it’s my understanding that Liam, like all the marked ones (except my addition of Darling and her little sibs) were military kids, and his mom is mentioned in IF as being the one to weave the protection runes, which I believe requires a level of magic that only a rider would have. so he has at least one relative who was a rider, and therefore probably more. ngl, at first I thought it was mad suspicious that his parents were executed separately from everyone else’s, but then we didn’t meet them in Aretia, so I guess they really are dead. but how mf heartbreaking would it be if they were alive -- and the first time they see their son in a whole year of him being gone at Basgiath, it’s Xaden carrying his body into the fortress 😭 and Vi and X crying and apologizing to Mama Mairi for not being able to save him… I’M SO SORRY. IT JUST CAME TO ME, AND I HAD TO WRITE IT DOWN. if any FW writer wants to write that AU, go for it. we could all use another good cry. there seems to be a trend of the dragons who had Tyrrish riders purposely (and "illegally") bonding the descendants of their previous riders. - Xaden has a second signet from Sgaeyl as his grandfather was one of her former riders, allegedly, but he "didn't make it out of the quadrant"? so he had a kid (Fen, Xaden's dad?) before graduating? is that why Xaden mentions that his dad hated dragon riders in one of his letters to Vi? - and then I believe Imogen has the dragon of a relative, but not a direct relative, so she doesn't have a second signet, but the one she does have is just really strong? I feel like they glossed over that a little too quickly, and it remains unclear to me how that whole thing works. - and now maybe Liam, too?

I might tack more stuff on below as it comes to me, or RB with commentary, but I think that's all I've got for now.

but regardless of if it was a mistake or not, I’m not planning on putting it in Liam and Spark’s story — just his farsight, which is confirmed multiple times. if Spark believed in the gods, she’d thank them for not giving him something as destructive and deadly as her water, but Li’s still gonna have some issues with it, because I feel the need to project my issues onto my fave characters, and everyone loves some mild hurt/comfort that’s resolved with cuddles and a nap, right? 🥰

[pomegranate-pen]

Hi iv really enjoyed your lackadaisy writing and was wondering if you’d be willing to write dating headcanons for Mordecai Heller?

He’s one of my favorites atm

A/n: hey everyone!! hope you're all having a good day!!! so a lot fo you requested mordecai dating headcanons, so here it is!! this will probably be the last headcanons I'll do, and I'll now stick to writing scenarios while also my main focus being continuing my fanfics. also going to start making up the plot for the potential rocky fic. though that all may come out in summer, since I'm slowly but surely exam seasons. anyways- hope you all enjoy this!!

Mordecai Heller x gn! reader general

-Mordecai is definitely cold toward you the very first time you meet. He will not speak to you about himself or his interests, he will keep the conversations short and straight to the point and he will not care about a single thing you do, only he will be annoyed when you do a task wrong.

-If you’re a regular of sorts, or someone who will become his partner or co-worker, then you’ll learn a few more bits and information about him and if stayed long enough, you will get a few more lines other than orders about what he feels about a certain subject matter or a few other workers around here (mostly complaints about the Savoy siblings, given how much he has to spend time with them on the daily). even then, he merely considers you an acquaintance. And it will take many years and much more meetings for him to see you as a friend. and when it does happen, it is subtle, but the conversations are more apparent, and your opinion on different matters is valued much more.

-Being his lover, however, will take much longer, and needs a much more deal of spending time and getting to know him. Which can be hard given how closed off he is about his life and past. Despite that, it’s not an impossible task. Rather, it’s made extremely difficult due to Mordecai’s own lack of interest in such things, his trust issues, and a bundled amount of feelings of unworthiness towards such a thing as love. He believes he doesn’t need it nor does he deserve it, and he doesn’t mind either of those.

-However, though his feelings are completely uninterested in such matters, that doesn’t mean he won’t fall for someone, which in this case, becomes you after half a decade or so of being friends with him. 

-the first to realize their feelings is most likely you. since Mordecai will first assume that his emotions towards you are just ones out of the care and respect he has for you as a friend. If you realize them, you must keep quiet about them for the most part, since Mordecai won’t really understand why there would be such a feeling harboring between you two, and he must process his own feelings himself before accepting yours. When he does realize them, oh boy, it’s rough. He feels guilty for loving you, because he doesn’t trust himself with any intimate relationship. Given how his friendship went with Viktor, he was already extremely hesitant about the idea of another friend, now, a lover and a partner, someone that he needs to trust and share a part of his life with, and they must do with him, is frightening and confusing to say the least. As said before, he doesn’t believe he’s worthy of such things. And now that he wants it from you, he feels like a villain of sorts. Taking something that doesn’t belong to him in the first place.

-It will take quite a few months for him to accept these feelings of his, almost half a year even. You seriously need to be very patient with him, something that he will appreciate the world of when you do. his confession is short, and straight to the point. Though, a few ticks of stress and anxiousness can be seen in him. For example, his ears are twitching here and then, his tail is flicking up and down in his seat and he cannot for the life of him seem to stare at you in the eye for more than three seconds. His words are quick, and his tone is a bit clumsy for a guy like him. at the end of it, the flicks of his tail are quicker in speed, and now, he’s looking straight at you with a hesitant look, as if he’s regretting the confession already a second after it’s done.

-He’s calmed down and surprised when you do accept his confession, and he’d not know what to do at that point. he’d nod his head, clear his throat, and thank you. “very well then,” his ears twitched a bit. “ I suppose we’d have to…plan a date now?” 

-It takes him some time, but with some help from yours, he finds, in his opinion, the true meaning of dating someone. It is not about dates and being over the top like he presumed, yet it is a way of spending time and enjoying each other’s presence, and being loyal to one another for more than anyone else. 

-So as you can guess, dates are quite rare. He never sees the point in it, though if you want such an activity to happen every once in a while, perhaps with a bit of pleading and coaxing you’ll get him to begrudgingly get time out of his day to do such things with you. yet, even though he seems annoyed by the entire occasion at first, you find him calm and even smiling at some point the more time you spend with him on the said dates.

His love language is spending time with one another. Though at the start of the relationship, miscommunication will be common, since Mordecai isn't one to speak about his feelings, if you try your best to tackle it healthily, your relationship with him will be all about communication and it will be the very reason why it’s so strong at the end of it all. It also makes him see communication as the most important part of the relationship, so he’s completely honest, brutally so at times. 

--The love language he’d like to receive most is the same, though he does get a bit flustered anytime you use words of affirmation and compliment him, then quickly denies your compliments or thanks you for them. 

-Not at all a PDA person, nor is he a physically affectionate guy in private either. He doesn’t like physical contact, either finding it too stuffy or too warm for his liking and just not being in much of a mood for it most times. Though, if in a situation you truly seem like you need a warm embrace or a hand to hold, he wouldn’t mind giving that to you, though he’ll be a bit flustered and quiet the entire time while doing so. He wouldn’t ever say this out loud, but his favorite act of affection from you is when you kiss or peck his cheek. It's surprising to him and it makes him melt a bit, being treated with such softness is quite rare in his life, so he doesn’t know what to do when you peck him, but his heart is beating so fast he can’t focus. He could only look at you in shock and touch the cheek you have kissed in instinct. Give him a forehead kiss and you’ll have an extremely quiet Mordecai awaiting you. he’s processing every second of that quick kiss and he’s speechless by how much it moved him.

 -Word about your relationship will never spread out, since Mordecai is extremely private about such things. No one realizes you two are dating unless one of you says so. The only ones who do notice by connecting the dots themselves are the Savoy siblings and Viktor. 

-Whether you like it or not, information about Mordecai’s family will mostly never be revealed. You’ll most likely just know that he has two sisters, but that is all he will ever tell you. and in fairness, he never tries to force you to speak about yours either, so it’s a mutual agreement at times to just avoid the topic unless it is deemed necessary by a dangerous circumstance to be said. 

-He doesn’t have many hobbies, but if you still try to enjoy a few things he does such as reading the same book he has on his shelves, you’ll be met with a cautiously excited and info-dumping Mordecai who starts debates and discussions with you about which part of the books you enjoyed and detested.

-He’ll try to indulge a bit in a few hobbies you have as well, but he’ll probably not get much invested in them. Though, he still sees it as a worthy journey, since in the end you were smiling and excited when explaining things to him.  

-Mordecai feels much more comfortable ranting to you than anyone else. So most times when he comes back from work for the day and has a weekend to look forward to, he spends that time drinking tea with you while speaking about anything and nothing that is on his mind. Treat this like it was diamonds in a mine full of charcoal. because not everyone has the luck to meet this side of Mordecai Heller. He’s more expressive when he’s with you, more open with his emotions, which means the level of trust he has with you is most than anyone else’s.

He’ll listen to all your rants and complaints as well, and if needed, he will give honest advice for your problems. Don’t expect any comfort, though. Because he isn't the best one for such things and he makes that clear all the time before you start your rant. 

-Wherever you live, whether it's in a separate apartment from his or if you’ve moved in with him, it will be extremely clean. Whether it’s because of his actions or yours, a completely clean and tidied-up house becomes the absolute norm in your life. If you were one who never really cared about those things, well, you will have to at some point for his sake, since he’s always extremely uncomfortable in messy areas.

 -Mordecai Heller loves you, but he won’t ever verbally say it. yet, you’ll always know that, because his actions speak much louder than words ever can, and you understand every word he's saying when he’s making tea for you or asking about your day, speaking to you on the daily or just sitting next to you. you know he loves you, and you know he loves you back. and perhaps, that is why this relationship worked in the first place. It will have its hardships, yes, but like any other relationship, it doesn’t mean it won’t have its good moments either. 

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 32

welcome to the thirty-second fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. A Dragon’s Treasure by @wittyy-name

As heir to the kingdom, Lance always thought he knew exactly what life had in store for him. That is, until a dragon kidnaps him at the age of sixteen. Suddenly his life is a lot less parties, lessons, and castles, and a hell of a lot more barren mountains, grumpy dragons, and boredom. From heir to prize, in just one night.

So now he’s stuck living in a cave with an adolescent, grumpy dragon who doesn’t seem to want him there but still won’t let him go. Not to mention his annoying habit of defeating every suitor who tries to come rescue Lance.

As much as he hates to admit it, he’s probably going to be here for a while. So he might as well settle in and get to know this dragon named Keith.

i accidentally lied last week this one is the last one from my rereadables collection. and for good reason!! dragon beauty and the beast tbh. and wittyy-name ALWAYS nails the complicated i-love-you-and-feel-trapped-by-you, complicated relationships kind of thing. and i fckn love it so so much 

2. Needle and Thread by VulpesVulpes713

Based on the prompt "kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing ". Keith tries to fix a tear in his jacket. Lance just wants some attention. The end result? Feelings.

this one is so cute they are so in love u know?? they just like to be around each other. always a fun read. vulpes is very good at klance with a crush on each other regardless of whether they’re already dating lol

3. Plans Are Overrated, Anyway by @chyeahlex16

"Lance, I-" "I know, I know," Lance said as he bustled around his nearly bare bedroom, tossing shirts out of drawers and pictures off of walls into his open suitcase on his bed. "I totally procrastinated till the last minute, just like you said! I don't need to hear the 'I told you so,' a little help packing would be nice!" "Lance-" "I bet you're already packed," he went on, oblivious to his best friend anxiously shifting in his doorway in frustration and anxiety. "Man, I can't wait until we get there-" "Lance! I have something to tell you!" Lance blinked, stilling his movements. He'd never seen his best friend so... guilty and anxious before. His brows pulled together in concern. "What's up, buddy?" "I'm not going to the Garrison with you." ~ In which I project onto Lance about things that I'm currently going through because I need to vent lol

HUNK AND LANCE HUNK AND LANCE HUNK AND LANCE. we do NOT have enough of it in this here fandom, ESPECIALLY prekerb, early relationship, and what a shame! i have always loved this fic’s exploration of their relationship and the ways they had to learn to grow into themselves, the starts and explanations for the way they were when we saw them. i love them

4. With These Hands by @azapofinspiration

Despite all the trouble they'd been through, Hunk figured everything had turned out all right. After all, he and Lance had managed to return to the castle!

Then Hunk sees the bruises and knows that things are not as good as he thought.

bro a-zap has always KILLED early season dynamics and their missing moments series is everything!! ive always needs three hundred percent more context on the mermaid episode and this fic provides not only that but also some excellent hunk & lance moments, with hurt/comfort that isnt imbalanced or infantilizing on either paladin’s part which is a low bar but awesome anyway 

5. Not As Clueless by @azapofinspiration

Pidge had always thought it was strange that despite being quite observant, Lance had completely missed the fact that she was a girl. However, it seems that that wasn’t really the case.

from the same series i just mentioned! lance IS observant, thank you very much, and i loved this take and interpretation. as much as lance does have a tendency to be dense about things, he also tends to be very observant bc hes a walking dichotomy. he notices things but his conclusions are often different than what others would make, and this entire concept is nailed in like 1.5k words

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[emptystove]

Sparrow - Ch 6

One Piece Fanfic (Drama/Romance/Suspense)

Pairings: E. Kid x Reader, Sabo x Reader, Lucci x Reader (one sided)

Rating: EXPLICIT, 18+ ONLY

Chapter Summary: It's time to meet your new doctor.

Links to AO3, Wattpad -- Fanfic Master List

Chapter 6: The Doctor

Trafalgar Law's Clinic, NWC North District

You had never been so nervous. 

Or maybe it was more so that you couldn't remember having a reason to be nervous like this before. During your time with Lucci, there were no feelings of hope or nervous excitement. The closest thing you felt to happiness was when you first woke up, not knowing the situation you were in and making ridiculous assumptions about the handsome stranger you saw next to your bed. You had been driven to get your memories back over the last year, but even then, you weren't sure if you were going to like what you found if you did. The more you were told about your life and the longer you lived it, the more hope and happiness seemed like luxuries you could never afford. 

Fleeing CP9 had given you a new exhilarating feeling alone. But ever since you found out your life hadn't always been with them, it felt like something stirred within you. A whisper of hope that you were almost afraid to acknowledge for fear that it might not be true. A hope that maybe there was something more to you than what you thought you were. And if you had been more in the past, maybe you could be something more again. Something more than Lucci's Sparrow. 

You had spent most of the ride over half-listening to Kid complain about "lanky emo bastards" while you mentally prepared to keep yourself in check until you had gotten what you came for. Having a smart mouth was helpful when you could use it to rile up or distract an enemy, but it had also gotten you into trouble with Lucci more times than you could count. Not surprisingly, basic social etiquette and 'how to make a good impression on others' were not included in your sensei's training. And you really wanted to make a good impression on who was probably the only doctor willing and able to help you. 

"Thanks again for agreeing to see me, Dr. Trafalgar." You twiddled your thumbs in your lap as you sat on the exam table.

"Please, call me Law," he replied, still looking down as his paperwork. His tone was bored, dripping with sarcasm, and you had no idea if he actually meant it.

He started with a standard head-to-toe exam. He took your height, weight, blood pressure, and asked general questions about your health. Luckily, Sabo was able to fill in a lot of blanks for him ahead of time, like your birthday and general medical history, excluding the past three years of course. 

As excited as you were to learn even that much, you were more excited at the chance to remember all of that and more on your own. The idea that you were being seen by someone who wasn't being paid by the government to lie to you, that he might find a way to actually help you remember, and so soon. You were basically bursting at the seams. 

Law definitely noticed your fidgeting, because he offered you something to "take the edge off" before you had to lay motionless while he used some big tube looking machine to scan your brain. You only took a moment to consider it before you shrugged and nodded eagerly. It definitely couldn't hurt, right?

He handed you two pills in a paper cup and a second paper cup filled with water. You threw back the pills and swallowed them easily with the water he provided. Without missing a beat, you looked up at Law and opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out and down, then lifting it up to show him underneath before snapping your jaw shut again.

"What are you doing?"

"Uh," you started. What were you doing? "I... don't know, actually."

His piercing gaze was almost too much to bear as he questioned you further. "Sabo said they never gave you regular meds when you were in the RA, and you didn't mention taking medication when you were with CP9."

"Yeah, that's true. I had some IVs when I first woke up I think, but I didn't really take anything after that." You nodded and scratched the back of your neck, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. "I don't remember ever doing that before." Your brain was running a mile a minute for any excuse for your strange behavior which seemed to irk the doctor in some way. You searched the few memories you had and stilled as you remembered seeing someone doing something similar with their mouth in video you saw after walking in on a very embarrassed Kaku. "Oh! I swear I wasn't coming on to you."

"What?" His face retracted and his frown deepened at your unexpected remark.

"Not that you aren't, um, I mean, I'm sure you are quite a catch," you backpedaled, desperate to not to make this worse and failing hard.

He pursed his lips and closed his eyes.

"People are probably lined up around the block to get you in their mouth." 

You knew you needed to stop speaking, but it felt like your mouth had teamed up with your nerves to override any coherent thought you had. 

"And I mean, I don't remember if I... I probably," you paused to motion with both hands toward his crotch, "wouldn't even know what to do with that." Despite the word vomit you were spewing, something told you that you would know exactly what to do with it.

"Please," Law's voice was strained with frustration as he opened his eyes. "Stop talking."

You took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, silently willing whatever medication you took to kill you kick in faster.

"I'm going to do us both a favor and forget that happened." After a moment, he picked up a clipboard off the desk and sat back in his rolling chair. "I've just got a few other questions to go through while we wait for that to take effect. Then we can grab those scans."

This new line of questioning was more specific to your absent memories, and you were determined to tell him as much as possible without embarrassing yourself further. 

You mentioned your scars. You had no memories but were starting to get familiar feelings with certain things. You could do stuff you don't remember learning how to do. That one seemed to pique his interest. And you never remembered your dreams but always woke up gasping for air. That one might have surprised him the most. Apparently that type of thing was common when it only happened occasionally. Having it happen every time you slept for 12 months straight was unheard of.

As the conversation continued, he remained attentive and professional, taking detailed notes and asking follow-up questions based on what you told him. You appreciated that he was true to his word and seemed to actually forget the absolute fool you made of yourself only a few minutes prior. 

You didn't know if it was because of Law or the drugs he gave you, but you were starting to relax.

He glanced at his watch, and his questions turned a bit lighter.

"How are the RA food rations these days?" 

"I haven't had that pleasure yet," you laughed easily. "Actually, I haven't been to any of their safe houses yet, not that I can remember anyways."

"I thought Iva would have made you try their spinach puffs no matter where they hid you."

"Iva, huh? I'll have to ask Sabo if I can meet them." You wondered what it might take to get Killer to make you some spinach puffs. Probably not much, you smiled to yourself.

"So, got a long drive back to where you're staying?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but something stopped you. You were feeling loose. But even feeling this good, there was something about this line of questioning that made you almost uneasy. You glanced at Law who was typing something on his computer with the screen turned away from you. In his defense, you were trained to be skeptical by an organization who lied to you at every turn. Still... was this just idle conversation he used with patients to help break the silence, or was it something else?

Before you could question it further, he informed you that the machine was ready.

It wasn't nearly as bad as you thought, although that could definitely be those pills talking. And when it was over, Law informed you that it would take a little time to process the images. You smiled contently as he opened the door to let you wait in the next room with Sabo and Kid. It wouldn't be long before you had answers. And even if they didn't get you much, you felt like you could trust them more than whatever the government had told you. It was hard not to be pleased, even with just the results Law gave you so far.

After all, not including your missing memories, at least you knew you were healthy.

----------

Lucci's Private Residence, NWC East District 

"This isn't healthy."

Lucci stared down the doctor through the video screen in his home office. 

"You can see clearly that it's getting worse. Are you really suggesting you aren't experiencing any negative symptoms?"

"No. I'm fine."

The doctor scoffed. "You can clearly see a difference in the last several scans of your cerebrum. Every other person who participated in the EMR experiments have similar results, but theirs aren't changing. Yours are escalating."

"I said I'm fine. Document that in your report, and move on."

The doctor shook his head in frustration. "It would make sense if you were still using the machine, but no one has access to them anymore. Since the markings are still increasing, I'm seriously concerned. Even if you aren't experiencing symptoms, I really have no choice but to report this to-"

"You do have a choice," Lucci smoothly cut in. His eyes darkened at the threat despite his casual demeanor. "You can either get rid of my current scans and replace them with my last, noting no changes or reasons for concern, or I can pay a visit to Zou Elementary School."

The doctor froze at his words, eyes wide as the implication of Lucci's seemingly simple statement washed over him.

"Y-You what?" he stumbled out the words incredulously. He instinctively touched the wedding band on his left hand and nervously glanced at a framed photograph facing towards him on the desk.

"Don't be skittish now. You were so sure of yourself just a moment ago."

The doctor swallowed hard before slowly placing the files down on the table. The sweat on his brow was visible even through his webcam.

"So doctor, let's try this again. How are my scans looking since my last appointment?"

"S-same as last time," he stuttered pathetically. 

"Good. Contact me if anyone else decides to misinterpret my records." Lucci ended the call before the doctor could say another word. 

He exited the room and let out a heavy breath. It was getting late, but he was far from sleep. If he couldn't be out searching for you, he may as well start unpacking. 

It was the first time he had been to his private home in over a year. He had fully moved into the CP9 building to be closer to you after bringing you there to seek treatment for your injury. He hadn't had a choice. He needed to be near you while you were in that infuriating coma. Now that you were gone, there was no reason for him to stay. He had already taken everything you left in your room and brought it back to his home. Back to where he should have kept you after you woke up. Where he knew you belonged. 

Lucci was surprised at how calm he felt being there. As he walked through the rooms of his home, he even felt the ends of his lips curl into a smile as familiar memories of you filled his mind. Your bedroom, the basement, the painting in his dining room, the window in the kitchen. The memories of you here were so strong, he swore he could almost smell you in the air. 

His smile fell instantly as his eyes fell on the couch in the den. It was infinitely cruel that the best and worst moments of his life happened only within a few seconds of each other. It didn't matter what he did to change the recording, he couldn't separate them in his mind. How it almost ruined everything. What he had to do after. Waiting helplessly at your bedside, drifting between his memories and the maddening ineptitude of the doctors treating you. 

He paused in thought and tilted his head. After you woke up, you wanted your memories back more than anything. By now, you had no doubt learned of your history with the Revolutionaries. Knowing that, you would be more determined than ever to find out what happened to you. Little did you know, if you would come back now, he would gladly tell you everything. You wouldn't though. Never so easily. You would make him hunt you down. He felt his lips curl again as he imagined how you might look at him when he finally found you. So full of fire, such fury. An intensity of emotion you spared only for him. 

He couldn't wait to break you. 

He pulled out his phone. There were only so many in the city who would work with you, and it wasn't difficult to figure out where to start.

----------

Trafalgar Law's Clinic, NWC North District

Law frowned deeply as he sifted through your imaging results, pulling his eyes away to see a number he didn't recognize calling his phone. 

He paused briefly after accepting the call, waiting for whoever was on the line to speak before he made a sound. 

"Dr. Trafalgar."

"If this is who I think it is, I suggest you fuck off and lose this number."

"You can stay on the line and hear me out, or you can expect government patrols on your block every night for the foreseeable future."

That was the last thing Law needed with the type of clientele he catered to, and Lucci knew it. 

Law let out a bored sigh, "Go on, then."

"Have you been contacted by the Revolutionary Army or the Flame Emperor in the last few days?"

"Can't say I have," Law drolled.

"Has anyone contacted you recently to treat someone with memory loss?"

"No, can't say anyone has."

It was easy for Law to maintain his uninterested tone, a skill he spent his life mastering. Even as he continued to listen to Lucci describe in detail the exact person waiting for him in the next room, he gave nothing away. 

"Haven't seen her. Anything else?"

"Keep your ear to the ground. If you should find out anything about her whereabouts, you'll want to contact me immediately."

Law smirked, "Listening to you drone on for five minutes is the most you'll get from me, regardless of whatever idle threats you spew. I thought it was obvious, but let me make myself clear. I'll be six feet under before I work with filth like you."

"I could make it worth your while."

Law snorted openly. "Oh please, I'd love to hear what you think could tempt me to do anything to help you."

"Rosinante is alive. I can give you the exact location where he's keeping him."

Law was frozen, too stunned to fully process what Lucci was telling him. 

"If it eases your conscience, helping me find Sparrow before the rest of Cipher Pol will save her life. They want her dead, but I want her alive. I can only protect her if I get to her first."

There was another pause before Law ended the call without another word. 

The longer he sat in silence, the more concerned became. 

It couldn't be true. 

It couldn't. 

Even if what he said was true, Lucci should know he would never trust information from the government. But Lucci also knew Law's biggest weakness. 

And even if it was true, a man like Lucci would never make moves to serve his own self interests over Cipher Pol's orders. 

None of it made sense.

But if it really was true...

The little information he learned from your visit today was another reason he shouldn't trust Lucci. You instinctively opened your mouth to show him you swallowed the pills he gave you. Something done by patients who couldn't be trusted to not hide their medication under their tongue only to spit it out later. A learned behavior you had no knowledge of. A muscle memory ingrained into you during the missing two years before you woke up. There was no doubt in his mind that they had been drugging you. With what and for how long, he couldn't tell. Whatever it was had been out of your system so long it left no traces he could find. 

And then there was your imaging results. His frown deepened even further as he glowered at the scan on the screen in front of him. There was no doubt the injury he was looking at caused your memory loss, which meant it must have happened after you were captured by CP9. He couldn't be sure, but if the nature of the injury was what he suspected, he doubted you would survive being captured by Lucci again.

What would Lucci even gain from someone who had lost her memories from an injury like you did, without any hope of recovering them? If you knew CP9 secrets, he should want you as dead as the rest of the government did. But something about the way he made that last plea. Law could have sworn he sensed a hint of desperation in Lucci's voice when he claimed he wanted to protect you.

None of it made sense.

No, he needed more time. He needed more information. There were too many variables here to make any sort of informed decision. Too many things about your situation he had yet to understand. 

He glanced again at your file. 

Sabo already owed him a few favors, but he couldn't risk involving him until he knew more. Between the lengths he was willing to go for you and the way he looked at you when your attention was elsewhere, it was clear that you were more to him than a missing colleague. Kid was another unpredictable variable in your twisted situation. His involvement with you was unclear, and as thick headed as he appeared, Law knew he could be dangerously perceptive when he wanted to be. On top of that, both men were a little too tight lipped about your circumstances, the latter only offering things about your past that he thought was needed for your medical record. 

He would have to keep learning more about you without raising suspicion. It was the only way he might find out the truth about Lucci's claims. 

Fortunately, you and he shared a common goal for the time being, even if he needed to keep you in the dark about it. If he could lead you on the right path, maybe you could do the information gathering for him. Maybe then, the two of you could find out what you needed without having to involve Lucci at all.

----------

"I'm no expert, but I'm guessing that's not normal." You pointed to the image of your brain where a dark line extended inward from your skull. 

"Very perceptive," Law maintained his aloof and sarcastic tone while he went over his findings with the three of you. "That's not the only abnormality, but I can say with certainty that this injury caused your retrograde amnesia."

Sabo sent you a concerned look as Law continued. 

"It's a puncture wound to your medial temporal lobe. You're lucky whatever caused this didn't go further. The location of the damage was restricted to the part of the brain that stores episodic memory, or memories of specific events. What happened in an event, the context of where it took place, and your emotions associated with the event. The damage was bad enough to wipe most of whatever memories you had stored there, although you may still experience some feelings associated with those wiped memories if they were strong enough. The damage was also minimal enough not to disrupt the neural pathways that allow you to make new memories. Skill memories are located in other areas of the brain. That's another reason you're able to do things you have no specific memory of learning."

"So... someone stabbed me in the brain?" You asked hesitantly.

Law shrugged, "Who knows."

"Ok," you began again, filing away that disturbing fact to dwell on later. "But you're a brain surgeon, so you can, I don't know, dig in there and fix me, right?"

"No," Law replied flatly.

"You won't or you can't?"

"There is no surgery that could fix the damage to your brain."

"What are our options for treatment? Surely, there's something we can do." Sabo cut in before you could lose too much hope. 

"The only effective treatment for retrograde amnesia is therapy addressing the emotional trauma that caused the memory loss. Even then, it may only result in partial memory recovery over a long period of time," Law noted.

"But you said she lost her memories from a stab wound, not emotional trauma," Kid argued.

"That's correct," Law replied.

"So... so there's nothing we can do? I'll never get my memories back?" You couldn't stop your voice from cracking in the last few words.

Law let out a long breath. "That would be true under normal circumstances, but your results are a far cry from normal."

Law pulled out a few additional scans, pointing to various areas. Some near your injury and some not. 

"You have other markings on your scans that shouldn't be there. They are much more precise than that of your injury, and they don't appear to be damaging your neural pathways. In fact, it doesn't look like traces of damage at all. I have no idea what they mean or what may have caused them. I can't promise it will help get your memories back either. Still, this could be good for us."

Kid narrowed his eyes at Law's last sentence, but you hardly noticed whatever he had.

"Really?" You felt your heart clench, as you grasped desperately for any sliver of hope.

"I've only ever seen this on one other patient. It wasn't as widespread as yours is, but it was definitely the same thing. He didn't have amnesia either, but when he came to me, it was because he was concerned something happened to him when he worked a contracting job for the government."

"Who-," you started, but Law cut you off before you could get your question out.

"That's all I can say right now. But if you want to meet him, I can probably arrange it," Law offered.

"Yes," you answered the second he finished speaking.

"What's your price?" Kid huffed.

"I have a few things in mind, and none of them involve you," Law smirked.

"The fuck does that mean?" Kid all but growled.

"Law, please," Sabo interrupted calmly. "What do you want in exchange?"

Law rolled his eyes at the redhead and turned his attention to Sabo. "I'll be present for the meeting. You'll make me privy to any information you find out related to her missing years with CP9. And if you die," Law's easy grin turned a bit sinister as he looked to you, "I want to perform the autopsy."

"What the fuck?" Kid sneered.

"That's a little much don't you think," Sabo frowned solemnly. 

"Done," you agreed easily, forcing your hand in his to shake on the deal.

You brushed off Kid and Sabo's concerns about Law's simple yet morbid request. If there was a chance for him to help you with whatever these new markings were on your brain, you would want to tell him whatever you found out anyway. And as far as the other thing, it wasn't like you were going to care what he did to you if you were dead. Plus, how could you turn down what seemed like such a good offer? He wasn't even asking for cash or favors. You really couldn't expect a better offer.

"Any other questions?" Law asked casually as you prepared to leave. 

An idea formed in your mind almost instantly, imagining how nice it might be to wake up calm like you did after Sabo drugged you, but this time in a bed instead of chained to a office chair. 

"Hey, can you give me more of those pills?" You raised a brow and shot him a lazy grin. 

Law frowned, and you cut in hopefully as he moved to speak. 

"I promise I won't do that thing with my mouth again."

Sabo and Kid turned to you in surprise while Law pursed his lips. You knew you shouldn't say anything more, but damn if you weren't feeling hopeful again from how things were turning out. Also from those pills probably. 

"If you prefer, I can promise to do it for you again?" You teased with a wink. 

"I knew you were a fucking pervert, Trafalgar," Kid jeered.

You tapped Kid's bicep with the back of your hand. "I tried to tell him it wasn't sexual. I could tell he got pretty riled up from it though."

"Poor touch starved bastard probably couldn't help himself," Kid chuckled harder as Law's frustration became more and more pronounced. 

You spared a quick glace at Sabo as you giggled. His initial shock quickly changed into something else as he watched you. He let out a short laugh and his eyes soften, as if hearing you playfully torment this man was truly heartwarming. As if he finally found something precious he thought he had lost forever. 

"Everyone get the fuck out of my office."

----------

Author's Note:

Author: Killer, please stop pouting. Killer: I'm not pouting. I just think it's out of character for me to not have been there with Kid. Author: But you were mentioned! She was thinking about- hey, what's that in your hands? Killer: Nothing. *pulls a tray of something out of the oven* Author: Ok well, you can't be in every chapter just because Kid is there. Killer: *shrugs* Check the comments. Kid and I are a package deal. It's what the people want. Author: Killer... did you make spinach puffs? Killer: ... Author: ... Killer: ... Author: Alright, I'll see what I can do.

Thank you so much for reading and commenting! Let me know what you think about everyone's favorite moody doctor.

(Also, what kind of porn do you think Kaku was watching when you walked in on him? I'm genuinely interested for totally normal reasons.)

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