#let them eat cake chapter 6

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack – gojo satoru chapter 10: yakisoba– appetizer!

contents: gojo satoru x reader, really bad flirting attempts, swearing, fluff, 2 idiots in love, really cute shenanigans summary: when you and gojo get detention after sneaking out, gojo sees you in a new light after spending the day with you. current wc: 5.1k ish

“..y’think im cute?” he asks with a shit eating grin, hand stilling on top of your head. eyes widening ever so slightly as you budge his hand off of your head. 

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

as the late winter sun sets, you find a strange comfort walking side by side down the street to the bookstore. 

“–and given the circumstances, i think that sugu should just let me ride that damn dragon once, even after uh.. that incident –” 

you laugh, “you mean when you threw up on it?” “look in my defense, okay –  i didn’t expect it to go that fast!” “and suguru said that you had like 6 pieces of cake or something, right?” 

“right, thank you, exactly my point! I was vulnerable! baby was being so mean – ” 

ignoring him completely, you grab his jacket sleeve to still him, something in the shop window catching your eye. You dont catch the way gojo’s eyes widen. 

“let’s go in here!” you say grasping his hand to pull him along with you, not waiting for an answer. gojo’s eyes widen at the contact, your smaller hand grabbing his. your hands were cold, were you warm enough? he could keep you warm if that’s what you wanted, he’d give you the clothes off his back if it meant that you were safe and happy, but holding your hand would be preferable. but as quickly as it happened, you let go of his hand in favor of picking up something that interested you on a table, what looked like little chopstick rests, cups and little ceramic sculptures.

“look! it’s shoko!” you hum, examining the little brown cat, gojo leans into you his large frame brushing your arm as his eyes pull away from the hand painted prints on the table beside you. 

gojo grins, “hehe! it’s just missing the cigarette...” he comments as he bends down to examine the homemade ceramic animals. 

“oh my god, they have suguru too!” you grab the sleek black haired ceramic cat with purple eyes, “doesn’t he look kinda spooky?” stroking the cat’s sleek head with your pointer finger, you were practically buzzing with excitement. he likes seeing you like this, shy smiles and mischievous eyes, teasing words dangling from your pretty lips. His stomach doing backflips as he watched your growing smile, as you picked up little trinkets examining them with a careful eye. 

the sound of your gentle laugher, brings his attention to you picking up a little fluffy ceramic white cat with big blue eyes and bringing it close to his face to compare. Eyes darting between the sculpture and him, gojo feels his breathing pattern change under your scrutinizing eye.  “damn... you look good in cat form too! yours is the cutest.” you say casually.

cute? did you think he was cute? he thinks his grin will split his face open. “heh. grumps,” he mutters, bending dramatically to knock his shoulder into your much shorter one. you grunt as you feel him pat your head when you ignore his shoulder bumps. you turn to him, eyes narrowing at his dramatics. “..what???” “..y’think im cute?” he asks with a shit eating grin, hand stilling on top of your head. eyes widening ever so slightly as you budge his hand off of your head. 

“hm? oh, –” you say hastily but not quick enough, “definitely not. i was talking about the cat goj- catoru, dude.” 

gojo’s eyebrows raise at the slight wobble of your voice, as you immediately turn around to look through the rest of the shop, busying yourself with the homemade cards on a rolling rack. 

“really, babe? catoru?! and you can’t call me satoru? always gojo this, gojo that..” ” he groans playfully, clutching his chest dramatically, like you somehow wounded the strongest – and you have.  but all wounds heal as he catches you shaking your head, the blush on your face telling him all he needed to know. 

an: hiya everyone! it's been a long time, but i've been writing again! I am excited to catch up on all the comments and share with you the rest of chapter 10 soon!

[ambrosiagourmet]

Hey, Kabru and Mithrun spend some interesting time together, don't they?

With Mithrun having just officially premiered in the anime, and a lot of discussions swirling around about him, I've been thinking a lot about that section of the story quite a bit. These chapters - Roasted Walking Mushroom and 6 Days - are some of my favorites. For a lot of reasons, really. Not only are they are a huge turning point for the story as a whole, but they have some excellent character work, and represent an important shift in Kabru and Mithrun's individual arcs and relationship to each other.

The chapters are also kind of a fully contained story arc just on their own, which is an impressive bit of writing, and makes them super fun to analyze. So that's exactly what I'm going to do!

This will be structured as a close reading of chapters 61 & 62, with some asides for additional important context. I'm going to talk a little bit about a reading that I disagree with, but for the most part I just want to focus on how Kabru and Mithrun's relationship progresses during these two chapters. In particular, the ways they both grow from the time they spend together.

Also I just want to quickly note that this isn't written as Ship Content. It's meant to be an analysis of their relationship as presented in the text - layer whatever additional meanings and filters on top of that as you'd like, but please respect that my intent is not to talk about or champion a ship, or frame any of this content as romantic.

So, with that all being said:

How do Kabru and Mithrun help each other?

First of all, I think there are two important pieces of context that inform the Kabru & Mithrun Dungeon Adventure chapters. Both are related to Kabru's state of mind, and both are set up before or during the chapters in question.

The first is the context of what happened just before Kabru and Mithrun fell into the dungeon. Specifically, the events that led Kabru to make them fall.

Kabru, essentially, gives up his life at the end of chapter 55. When he stops Mithrun, and when they both plummet with the collapse of the first floor, he is okay with dying. Mithrun warns him that they will both die if Kabru doesn't let him go, and Kabru accepts this as a worthwhile exchange.

Why?

Well, because he doesn't want the elves to take over the dungeon. Throughout the last 3 chapters, the Canaries have been effective, but they have also been cruel in their efficiency, and they have made it clear that they don't care about collateral damage. They lured people into the dungeon specifically to provoke a violent reaction from it, without regard for who might get hurt by the violence.

What's more, they are keeping important information from Kabru, and he knows it.

He's not just looking for a solution, he's looking for the truth - a truth that he believes that he will only find through conquering the dungeon. With good reason, to be fair! The elves make it very clear that they aren't there to treat the other races on the Island as equals.

So Kabru uses the only tool he has available to him - his own life. It won't get him the truth, but it at least gives a chance for another person from a short-life species (namely, Laios) to earn it in his place.

This dovetails nicely with the more thematic context that's introduced in at the start of chapter 61: the room where he could eat all the cake he wanted.

This place, a place that Kabru never wants to go back to, is a place where he is safe, and a place where he is ignorant. A place where he is sheltered from danger, but also from the truth. The same place the Island would become, if the Canaries had their way. He doesn't just want to be safe, and he doesn't even just want the world to be safe, though he does want to be able to protect people from what happened in Utaya.

But he doesn't just want to entrust that safety to the paternalism of the elves (especially since he is all too aware of the ways they can fail, or the people they are willing to sacrifice in the name of that "safety"). He wants to be given the agency to seek safety and peace for himself.

He wants to understand. And he wants the chance to act.

This is the context we have, going into the arc of 61 & 62. But before I talk about how the chapters build on this context, I want to take a step back and look at what else the chapters establish early on, before delving into their exploration of Kabru's agency.

First of all, I kind of want to challenge the framing of Kabru and Mithrun's relationship as solely that of a caretaker and his charge.

Obviously, Kabru is forced into a caretaker position - at the threat of his friend's safety, no less. (Okay, it's actually Toshiro and Namari that are being held, but still. There are hostages involved in this) But I do think it's important that Mithrun isn't the one who puts Kabru in this position - Cithis is.

Before this conversation, Kabru and Mithrun are already exploring the dungeon together. Mithrun doesn't threaten Kabru, or force his hand. He kind of just assumes that Kabru will join him. It's rude, and not particularly respectful, but given the dangers of navigating a dungeon alone, I don't think that's really an unreasonable assumption. And it certainly isn't the same as Cithis' approach.

If they were left alone with no intervention, they probably would have ended up in a similar position to the one that Cithis leveraged them into. Kabru is smart, and he could have figured out the things that Mithrun needed help with. And, to be clear, those are things that Mithrun needs help with not because he is selfish or thinks they are owed to him, but because he is disabled. It's not unreasonable for him to need that help, and it's not unreasonable for Kabru to provide it, under the circumstances.

Besides, they both need each other down there. Kabru wouldn't have survived without Mithrun - he doesn't know enough about monsters, and isn't familiar with the deeper dungeon's layout. And Mithrun wouldn't survive without Kabru - he isn't able to notice his basic needs and would burn himself out without food or rest, making him an easy target for the monsters he could otherwise take care of on his own.

Aside from both needing each other, another interesting layer to their relationship, which is established right away, is that Kabru doesn't have to - and literally cannot - put on a mask of social niceties around Mithrun. He can't suck up. It doesn't work.

So Kabru, who spends so much of his time concerned with how others perceive him, and who compromises his own comfort in order to become the most appealing version of himself at any given time, has that tool taken away. He has to help Mithrun, but notably, he can only help Mithrun to a certain point. He cannot compromise his open and honest feelings to help maintain someone else's view of the world - or at very least, it doesn't benefit him at all to do so.

Instead, they sit together, in the same position, share the same shitty mushroom dinner, because they both have to:

And that's notable, too. They both have to. Cithis' demand is most specific about the need to eat. Three meals a day! But this is something they both need, not just Mithrun.

Still, their relationship at this point still isn't exactly supportive, or even respectful. Kabru may have realized that he didn't need to keep up an act around Mithrun, but ya know, he still turns around an immediately try to, with that shitty mushroom dinner.

(The 'badly drawn shapeshift Kabru' gag here isn't just funny, imo, it's also a reminder of the thing he JUST LEARNED. Mithrun is immune to the Kabru smile anime sparkles filter.)

Mithrun also doesn't tell Kabru any helpful information at this point, and doesn't really put much effort into helping him at all. He slaps him awake out of a Nightmare, and treats him with the same disregard he did at the start of the chapter, focused entirely on moving ahead.

But then Mithrun collapses, and the current structure of their relationship collapses with him.

I think it's interesting here that the shift in their dynamic also includes Mithrun explicitly noticing Kabru's desires. Obviously it's not actually like some kind of I truly see you and recognize your humanity moment shared between them, but I do still like the way that it pulls Kabru's internal wants to the surface. Kabru not voicing his desires doesn't mean they don't exist, and Mithrun recognizes that the same way the dungeon does.

And then Mithrun does, in fact, grant one of Kabru's deepest desires. He tells Kabru the truth.

Just like how they are working together in the first place, this truth is as much a necessary concession to survival as anything. But that doesn't mean it's not impactful for Kabru. This is the thing that every other elf in his life has kept from him. A secret foundational to his core belief that long-life and short-life species can never come to mutual understanding.

And Mithrun isn't just giving him the bare minimum information here. What he shares isn't just a truth, it's his truth. It's a level of complete and total vulnerability that few people share with each other. And again - some of this may just be coincidence and necessity. I imagine Mithrun is so open, at least in part, because he doesn't have the same barriers that other people do when it comes to sharing these things.

But, then again... we see Mithrun at his most vulnerable and empathetic when he is talking to dungeon lords & potential dungeon lords, and trying to convey to them the truth of the trap they are walking into.

This face:

Is very similar to this face:

These are some of the few instances that we see Mithrun emote in this way, and his story does come just after he notices the dungeon responding to Kabru's desires.

But, no matter if Mithrun's openness is in response to Kabru being tangled in the dungeon's hunger, or just part of his nature (or, maybe, a little of both), his story changes things for Kabru. It gives him the chance to make actual choices, now that he understands the truth. It gives him a chance at agency in the story.

And he immediately turns around and uses some of that agency in an interesting way:

When asked about why he can't sleep, Mithrun says he needs to be magically compelled. Being magicked to sleep is simple, and it is efficient, but he doesn't even just say it's the best option. He seems to believe it is the only option.

So much in Mithrun's recovery has been framed through how it will let him fight the demon. Recover so that you can return to the dungeon. Sleep so that you can return to the dungeon. Eat so that you can return to the dungeon.

But rest, much like eating, isn't just about achieving the bare minimum required for efficiency. And as Senshi would probably say, the easiest path isn't always the best.

I don't think that the Canaries are intentionally running Mithrun ragged or anything, but as I mentioned earlier, they are very focused on efficiency, with little thought spared to what is lost or hurt in the process.

And there is something different about Mithrun's time with Kabru in the dungeon. Lycion even notes it, when they finally connect back up.

I don't think it's a huge leap to say that how Mithrun falls asleep here is emblematic of that difference. When Kabru helps Mithrun to sleep by massaging his feet, rather then using magic, he is explicitly taking a step beyond the minimum. He is providing comfort to a body that has been given only necessities for a long, long time.

These two events - Mithrun sharing the truth of the dungeon with Kabru, and Kabru choosing to help Mithrun to sleep through a foot massage - shift their relationship. There's a clear difference in how we see them treat each other, and especially in how Mithrun treats Kabru.

Before, Kabru provides food that he has gathered himself (okay, it was a mushroom he put his foot through on floor one, but the point still stands that Mithrun offered no help at all with getting food).

Afterwards, they gather food together.

Before, Mithrun teleports Kabru towards a monster, using him as a weapon when he can't find anything else.

Afterwards, he helps Kabru escape monsters, and fights them directly.

Before, he slaps Kabru awake after 5 hours of uncomfortable, Nightmare-filled sleep. A rest which, notably, Kabru didn't even intend to take for himself.

Afterwards, we see Mithrun keeping watch while Kabru sleeps in a bedroll.

I don't necessarily think that all of these things are choices that Mithrun consciously makes. Like, after 6 days, Kabru would have to get some actual sleep eventually, and Mithrun would pretty obviously have to keep watching during that time.

Nonetheless, there's still a difference in how these scenes are framed, and the fact that it is these things that are used to portray their journey together. Kabru is not the sole person providing food and sleep and safety - they provide these things for each other. Kabru eats alongside Mithrun, hunts alongside Mithrun, and he sleeps in the same way we see Mithrun sleep, laying down and resting deeply enough to be groggy when woken up.

What's more, during their time together, there are even a couple of instances of Kabru being more willing to care for himself and accept care. The sleeping is one example - note how he is surprised at having slept "that long" when told he was asleep for less than even the minimum recommended amount of nightly sleep - but I think the pattern of his eating is even clearer. In making sure that Mithrun eats regularly, he is forced to eat regularly too.

And I especially like the progression with the Barometz meal. After Mithrun has fallen asleep, Kabru thinks about wanting to "give [Mithrun] something nice to eat," but also notes that Mithrun's lack of desire "means there isn't even anything he wants to eat." So what does Kabru do?

He makes Mithrun something that he wants to eat.

I've already talked a bit about the ways that Dungeon Meshi depicts people finding support through "borrowing" the desires of the people who care for them, and I think this scene is a great example of that idea. Especially in the way that it pulls an expression of desire from Kabru, who is so prone to ignore his own hunger and needs. The meal may not end up anywhere close to the flavor intended, but it's still a far cry from the roasted walking mushroom.

All of these pieces come together at the end of chapter 62, resulting in a pivotal choice that could only happen because of the ways Kabru and Mithrun have, at least a little bit, grown closer to each other.

As they are preparing to leave, Kabru hears a bell ringing in the dungeon, just as he hears Toshiro's matching bell on the other side of the portal. Realizing Laios is nearby, Kabru hesitates. He knows the truth about the demon, and how he has a chance to act on it.

Cithis, the person who extorted Kabru into taking care of Mithrun in the first place, pushes for Mithrun to follow along with the plan.

(okay a quick aside here I just want to say I do love Cithis and I'm not trying to bash on her here. I just think it's interesting that she is the one to establish the terms of Mithrun & Kabru's cooperation, as well as the one who tells Mithrun to leave the dungeon at the end of the chapter)

But Mithrun doesn't go along with her command. Instead, he does something unexpected:

He asks what Kabru wants to do.

In contrast to Milsiril's smothering comfort,

and in contrast to his Mithrun's own assumption that Kabru will follow him, when they first wake up in the dungeon,

Mithrun follows Kabru's lead.

This, right here, is the change between them. Not only that, but it's a shift in the entire balance of agency in the dungeon. For what might be the first time in a very long time, Kabru - a tall-man - knows the truth, and is acting on it. He makes a huge decision purely on his own judgement. He is not trying to appease or coerce anyone, and he doesn't win Mithrun over by hiding his true intentions.

Rather, it's the honesty between them that builds to this moment. Mithrun's honesty earns Kabru's trust, and Kabru's honesty earns Mithrun's respect. They bond not because they are forced to spend time together, but because they choose to spend that time giving each other more than the bare minimum - even when they are both people used to accepting the bare minimum.

It echoes Laios' argument with Toshiro, in a way. They eat three square meals a day (Cithis mandated admittedly), they get plenty of sleep, and in doing these things, they take each other seriously. They treat each other as more than just a means to an end.

I don't necessarily think it's a flawless, unbreakable bond that's built during this time - hell, they both kind of revert back to their old behavior, once reunited with the rest of the Canaries. People don't completely change their habits overnight, after all.

But it is a shift. It's a shift that gives Kabru the chance to steer the story towards the ending he has fought for all his life, and it's a shift that helps Mithrun find a way to move forward after he loses his own reason for living. They reach their goals, and then they step past them - facing life beyond the moments they thought defined their reasons for living. Facing life beyond the bare minimum.

And that is how they help each other.

[noxturnalmoth]

Repentance

Summary: Repentance: n. the action of repenting, sincere regret or remorse.

Hurt, overworking and miserable, two souls find one another and fates intertwine even when they are worlds apart. How can one deal with the guilt of wanting something they cannot have? And why does going against the very principles you have imposed upon yourself feel so good?

Warnings: violence, crude language, themes of guilt, suicidal ideation, depression

Word Count: 6, 501

Masterlist: here

Chapter 2 - The House that Janna Built

Your body feels light, weightless in the dark red tinted abyss. You don't feel anything but complete utter oblivion, pure nothingness. Yet slowly, feeling comes back to you. You r skin burns, your lungs and throat as well. And from a foggy red, the world shifts to bright orange. Smoke fills your lungs, tears eat through the blood caking your face like the waves licking away at footsteps in the sand of the shores of Ionia. You taste metal, and you feel nothing but seering hot pain.

"It's okay, kiddo. I'm getting you out of here." A low voice belonging to a woman softly calls out to you as you are lifted in what seems to be their arms.

Kha nas xera.

I hate them.

Kha anas xera.

I hate it.

Kha nas-ren xera.

I hate this pain.

An-kha ana-yafeal qufa.

Make it stop.

Ni'i samahta.

Please.

Then the sounds rush in. But within the loud chaos, you cannot scream and beg for them to stop.

____

"Fuck!"

You wake up with a start, back firing up waves of pain through your body as you sit up straight, hand finding your phone to snooze the alarm.

Sunday.

Yesterday you did nothing but stay in bed, stewing some more over your friends' words. And although every fiber in your body protested, although every part of your soul hissed at you not to, you were getting up to go to church.

"If not for yourself, do it for us."

It's all that was repeated your mind on Saturday while you forced yourself to come to terms with the fact that you needed to try. You had to. For Sevika and Violet, you needed to get better.

Because no matter what they said, you feared they'd leave you before you're fully swallowed within your personal hell. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to hate them for it, it'd be deserved after they dealt with the burden of your existence within theirs for so long. The thought of disappointing them, hurting them and them leaving you for your own incompetence at saving yourself were driving forces for you, albeit waning since some time.

Kha anas xera.

I hate it.

Kha alalha xera.

I hate the gods.

Kha Jan'ahremas xera.

I hate Jan'ahrem.

"If not for yourself, do it for us."

So you do.

You push yourself from your mattress, the sheets stained in your nightly cold sweat before you take them from the bed, limping your way to the bathroom for a shower and throwing the filthy sheets in the washing machine.

The shower is hot, long in duration to relax your tense muscles and wash away the last of your nightmare before you resign yourself to leave it, unwilling to let your water bill climb higher than it already is.

You rummage in your closet for something "church-like". Unlike other cults from topside, Jan'ahremite beliefs didn't impose modesty in the same way, nor for the same reasons. Your people hail from Shurima where the deserts are so warm that wearing too much would make you die from overheating yet the nights would be as cold as the Freljord.

You remember your parents always owning shawls for when they'd pray, covering head, shoulders and parts of their chest when they talk to Janna. The Blue Bird. The Storm's fury. The Winds. Or whatever the believers would call her.

Not that it matters to you.

Your clothes are the classic Zaunite style, albeit better due to the blooming economy, of leather jackets, harnesses, simple shirts and cargo pants. Yet a skirt holds your attention, something more formal than your usual attire, yet still holding slits on both sides for ease of movement.

You groan as you pick it up, remembering the birthday Vi had gifted you the piece. Giggling when looking at your face as Caitlyn explained how it'd fit you.

"You would turn heads like this, Maestro."

"I don't want to." You had answered. "Love isn't the first, or second, or third thing on my list."

"It could do you good."

"Thanks, but I'll pass, Caitlyn. I'm grateful for the gift."

The skirt slides on with a shirt, buckles of harnesses are fastened and your corset is back around your middle, holding your back up as you adjust how it looks with the rest of what you put on. Your boots soon follow, a shawl put over your head and wrapped around your arms and shoulders before you take your phone and head outside.

Music blasts in your ears as you walk, walking towards the looming stone building. Carved in the material that so many Zaunites died for in the fissures. Figures, arches and columns filling the walls with intricate traditional designs you've grown accustomed to seeing in the books of the section you overlook at the library you work at.

Funny for someone as stuck in the past as you to hold archaeology so dear. Ironic too, for all the rituals and religions you've dived in you still hated the mere thought of believing and practicing.

Which made approaching the church all the more grueling. Not only are you about to step a food in a god's "home", but also bring your cynical atheism in a place of worship. It feels bitter, just because of your utter hatred for the one thing thos people believe in. To disturb those seeking comfort in the embrace of faith although you're doing a similar thing.

"Welcome to the Windswept Church of Jan'ahrem."

A voice calls out, a man maybe not much older than you greets and you see him step back at your stare, the ever present glare probably fueled with so much of your inner turmoil that he knew better than to remain close though his face stays gentle. His hair is long, pulled back in a ponytail, brown streaked with some blonde and his eyes a limpid blue. "We hope you find what you're searching for."

I doubt I will.

You nearly say, but hold your tongue as you step through the stone arch, passing mahogany doors to enter the large vaulted chapel.

Columns hold the ceiling, reaching towards the heavens with dark brown stone pillars. The walls are filled with grandiose stained glass sceneries depicting the history of Zaun. Beginning from the great Shuriman Empire, followed by its fall, sailors following the Blue Bird, Shuriman immigrants stepping foot on the shores of Kha'Zhun, the beginning of Osha Va'Zaun, its evolution, and the ever present goddess Janna protecting and watching over it.

You scoff.

For all its beauty, the church was still a place of belief for a god that had abandoned its own people, and it made you sick.

So you turn your head to the center of the room, pews lining both sides of the nave, creating a path towards the dark green draped dais and altar which are overlooked by the most beautiful representation of Janna you've ever seen. You step forward, the brilliant blue carpet softening each of your movements while the morning light bounces from the intricately tiled floor, stone lace shining with beautiful colors while you're pulled ahead.

The deity is represented floating in the air, her clothes and hair fluttering in the wind she summons, your people reaching out to her and grabbing her legs as they pray for mercy and salvation. The pedestal looking like grass and sand gently moving around them all, shifting with the gale.

What good is such artistry if it's made for someone who will never listen?

Once more you hold your tongue, the magnificence of the place dissolved by the bile climbing at your throat as you sit down in the far right of the pews, wanting anything but to be perceived while you take your earphones off.

Silence accompanied by the small talk of church goers, then their steps as they move to sit. Luckily no one comes close to you and some of the tension leaves your body.

"If not for yourself, do it for us."

I'm trying.

Yet all you want is to get up and leave, get back to the comfort of your own home and sleep the day away. But that would be the easy way out, no sleep would come to you anyways and way too much attention would suddenly be directed towards you in such a moment. So you stay.

Moments pass, you grow more restless at the wait as people trickle in, someone sitting on the same pew as you and making you regret the decision of getting up and not rotting in your brain. A cordial nod is extend your way and you extend the same respect, noting that the greeter is the man now sitting next to you before quickly looking back to the front, hoping that mass would start soon so you could get on with it then leave.

"I've never seen you here before, did you come to find guidance from Jan'ahrem?"

An-kha ana-yafeal qufa.

Make it stop.

"Something like that."

"Welcome to our community then, we hope you find what you seek. You'll see that we're close knit, I can even extend to you an invitation for our meetups!"

You hum, nails softly clawing at the pew as anxiety bubbles within you at the sudden attention, people from other pews looking at you now.

Kha kha-anas'yatahadatha qufa.

Stop talking to me.

"I'm Huck, by the way. Nice to meet you."

You softly offer your name to him and he smiles, pulling one of your hands in a handshake that had your skin crawling at the sincere kindness the man is showing you.

This is too much, I need to lea-

Everybody stands and your hand falls back to the wooden bench as Huck drops it, following along with his peers. You stand too, pain shooting from your back and branching to your entire body at the sudden movement. Yet you trail your eyes to the front of the nave, to what everyone was so reverent towards.

A man was walking to the altar with a cane in hand. Cassock tinted almost black, a tinge of something else mixed within the fabric, brown hair long and falling to his shoulders.

The priest.

"Greeting my friends. I hope life has treated you fairly since last Sunday."

His voice is accented in a familiar way, certain communities from from the Entresol holding a strong Va'Nox tint to their speech. And while he may have not been talking loudly, the man's voice was projected in the vaulted room, almost ethereal in quality as it commands attention.

"We all know of the darkness within our souls. The one that drags you down a spiral so profound that you lose yourself in a labyrinth of self-hatred, doubt and pain. Yet we know, we believe, deep down that this is not all that we are. We are more powerful than our demons, and Jan'ahrem, our shepherd, guides us to light with her breeze. The soft, cool of her touch on our broken selves heals us. Like wind brushing footsteps from the shifting sands. Let us begin to praise her for her love and kindness towards our people, her determination fueling us. Making us stronger with each day that passes under her protection."

Everyone sits again, your body hitting the pew with a soft thud and a sigh as you're hidden by the veiled backs of the churchgoers again.

What a load of bullshit.

You nearly scoff as everyone begins chanting, the priest's voice somehow always stronger. Never wavering once in his praise of the goddess watching over him. It's low, yet breathy, the accent rolling his R's, pushing his consonants and sighing his H's.

And it's unbearably beautiful.

For all you have against the church, you can't say that you despise this part like you do the rest. The lyrics make you feel sick, yet the man's voice is warm, welcoming, playing the part of the guide he is supposed to be even to someone as empty and destitute as you.

Next to you, Huck sings along. Face bright and filled with hope while you feel like decomposing in place. You know of myths where sinners burn in places of worship and for all it's worth, you feel like it's about to happen to you. Bubbling with rage as you glare at Janna's statue, looking to you almost mockingly when she's supposed to be kind, gentle, a guiding gale to those from Zaun. And with disgust at yourself, feeling undeserving of being next to believers while you silently hate their god, wishing nothing more than to melt in the pew and disappear.

You're even more lost in this crowd than you've been in years, you feel profoundly alone even when you're supposed to feel surrounded. They're all singing in Valorian, as opposed to your parents who used to pray in Shuriman. The lyrics to every chant escaping you and fusing your lips together like a hot knife cauterizing a wound.

You wouldn't have sung along anyway.

But a little bit of familiarity wouldn't hurt when you're like a fish out of the water, ready to be chopped at the fishmonger's stall.

The believers sit and the priest's soft voice grows lower as he speaks, the breathy quality of his voice still very present yet much more subdued as he preaches.

"May the gales guide us to a better place. We have already achieved so much, brothers, sisters. And our sails are leading us to a brighter future. It may get hard, but we're headed the right way, I can feel it and I know all of you do too. Janna has granted us her will so we could move forward even when life gets grueling, cruel and miserable. She is the way, she is the mother of our nation who brought us to this safe haven. And although we've had to fight for it tooth and nail, we're finally headed towards the vision she had of Zaun. A free, thriving and steadfast community."

Huck sometimes slides his gaze to you, a small gentle smile on his lips to coax you out of your shell. Yet all it does is make you more uncomfortable, feeling all too undeserving of the gentleness he treats you with, your skin feeling too tight on your muscles. Like old wallpaper falling off, cracking due to humidity and age.

So you spend however much time, sat even when believer stand to sing, fidgeting with your hands when they sit back down.

Then, one by one people start to get up, making a queue to the dais where the priest was now standing.

"Come, it's custom to receive the ichor. Just follow me, you'll know what to do there."

Huck extends his hand towards you and your aching back thanks him as you nod, letting him help you up and pull you to the end of the line. The wait is somewhat uncomfortable, standing while people consume the Jan'ahrem's "blood" and bless themselves with incense.

You knew of the blood and spirit from old tales your parents told you as a child, which eventually appeared before you once more with the books you read at the library. Your second job offering much downtime, to your relief, which meant many hours by yourself, reading and cataloging books on archaeology and rituals.

As the line dwindles you realize that albeit you know of the old practices, you know nothing of the new ones. Anxiety once more bubbling within the depths of your stomach.

Am I going to make a fool of myself?

No, people trickle out once this is done.

But then again..

While people trickle out after this last part of the mass, you would be left still making a fool of yourself in front of Father "what's his face". So you discreetly try to observe from behind Huck.

People kneel, which already makes you groan at the pain you'll be in after such an action. Then they bring their hands up, quite probably in the usual prayer motion.

Arms positioned horizontally, palms against one another while the middle and ring fingers are placed on the inner wrists of the other arm.

A gesture predating even the fall of the Shuriman Empire.

You can't see the rest, only able to complete the ritual in your head with the old practices. The believer would open their mouths and the priest would dip his thumb in the ichor concoction from his chalice, marking the tongue with its blood red tint, before the believer would go on to get the blessing of the spirit. A simple action of taking two sticks of incense upside down between two crossed fingers, the index and the middle, moving them around you so the smoke moves around the believer like a soft breeze. Ending the movement by placing the sticks right side up in the sensor and dipping one's thumb in the ashes filling it, blowing the remnants like the gale of the Blue Bird blew the sails of your ancestors.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't realize it's your turn, Huck already getting to the incense as you stand before the priest face to face.

From up close you can see the intricacies of his cassock much better. Cinched at the waist with a bright blue fabric belt, the same color as the rosary decorating his chest and neck,his robes catching light in what you could now notice is the color of your people. The Zaunite color representing your nation, a dark forest green that looked nearly velvety on the cloth of the man standing before you. His hair was not just brown, no, it was graying in streaks from under the soft, wavy curls adorning his head like a halo. Around his neck was a copper colored stole, embroidered with the organic shapes your people have always used, showing life even within the most unwelcoming territories. From the desert to the fissures. He looked young, near your age, face gaunt and cheekbones high, his pale skin dotted with two moles. One on his upper left lip and one on his right cheekbone, right under the outer side of his eye.

Amber.

The familiar color of many a Zaunite's eyes, the color attributed to the heat of your homeland, was also his. Looking nearly golden in the rays filtered through the stained glass, outer iris a kaleidoscope formed of their reflection.

"With the powers bestowed upon me, I shall bless thee with the ichor, the blood of our goddess which blessed our soils."

You kneel with difficulty and position your hands accordingly, yet the priest looks almost shocked when his eyebrows furrow and his lips purse softly. His thumb is dipped in the chalice, coming out dripping the red liquid symbolizing the ichor, and before he can move again you open your mouth. Eyes trained on his as saliva begins to build at the wait, his movements slow and nearly tense as he grips your chin and places his thumb on your warm tongue. Barely seconds pass yet it feels like an eternity as you feel his skin on yours, his digit in your mouth, his eyes observing you as if he is picking you apart and building you back up.

"With this blessing of life, of hope and of will, you shall build yourself back up. Like Osha Va'Zaun has many a time. May the Winds blow your way, my child."

His eyes widen and his body tenses once more, jaw setting and face twitching, while your lips wrap around his thumb. His gaze veiled with something unknown before you pull away.

"Kod'suhbi al ni-makhaka naa."

May the Blue Bird be with you.

You sigh while trying to push yourself up, groaning in pain before the priest's soft yet scarred hand appears in your vision, his face now gentle with a soft smile adorning his lips as he helps you up.

He is much stronger than he seems.

You nod your head in thanks, rushing to the incense so you can be done with it all. Huck already done yet waiting at the pews, calling out for you.

"I wanted to say goodbye, and to thank you for coming to mass today. I hope to see you next time!"

Tough chance.

You think, before sighing.

"If not for yourself, do it for us."

You have to come here at least twice before finally throwing in the towel and ridding yourself of the horrible presence of religion in your life. Your lips smack as you finally savor the ichor, the red liquid tart and sweet, made of fruit, yet thick and sticky in your mouth. Like blood.

Good marketing.

You nearly laugh but choose to reign your cynicism in.

"Yeah, see you next Sunday Huck." The man looks happy with your response and leaves.

"Goodbye Father Valášek."

Your ears tune out afterwards as you proceed to follow through with the spirit ritual, the smell of incense soothing the disgust you feel beneath Janna's gaze. Your eyes shifting to the altar from time to time as you feel the weight of a gaze on you, yet every time you look the priest only seems to be preoccupied with clearing away the last of the ritual.

The deity's gaze judges you as you walk back, setting yourself on a pew, back too pained after kneeling that you have to take a moment to relax before going back home. Yet your eyes are not "kind" like the goddess's, hers almost mocking you as you glare back.

Ni khe'inn.

You traitor.

You fucking traitor.

Was it funny? To live up above, safe and flowing with your meaningless winds while your people suffer, beg, plead and pray for you?

The thought nearly makes you want to puke and set the whole place on fire. Your breaths grow heavier as you try to calm down, feeling all too restless in this place of "peace", yet unable to leave just yet. It feels like every stained glass portrait, like the statue itself, are judging you.

What are you doing here, non-believer?

You should have died long ago.

You are undeserving of guidance and healing.

You monster.

You filthy, foolish, rotten girl.

"Glare at Jan'ahrem any longer and you'll set her on fire."

You startle, looking to your right where the priest is now sitting, chuckling yet his eyes full of curiosity.

"Can't say it's not what I'm trying to do."

"Oh really, now? In a holy place?"

"Holy or not, if I'm going down I'm taking her with me. And it's not a man in a dress using a cane that will be able to catch me after I'm done."

His laugh grows louder, from a low throaty chuckle to an open mouthed, breathy giggle and you raise an eyebrow at the man.

"If you hate her so much, I wonder what your story is for you to drag yourself to such a place."

Story.

You scoff.

It certainly isn't a fucking fairy tale.

"Please, don't put her on a pedestal. She's not special, I hate all of her kind."

"Wow, talk about god-hating."

"I fear I'm their biggest opp, Father Valášek." You spit out, yet your lips stretch into a smirk while a wheeze escapes him, his eyes sharpening towards you, nearly cutting you with their intensity.

"Aren't you a funny one?"

"I'm a hater, didn't say I'm also unfunny. I can only have so many flaws, priest."

Self-deprecating, self-hating, monstrous, empty, depressed, hopeless and broken beyond fixing are pretty good ones too.

"I don't find it a flaw within you."

"Wow, thank you oh-so-loving man of god. I am suddenly healed from all of my self doubts and pain, I could dance the prisyadka. Do you need a demonstration?"

"I'd pay to see that."

"And I'd pay to see you run a marathon."

Your eyes point to his cane and he scoffs, slumping backwards on the pew's backrest. He calls out your name and you turn to him with narrowed eyes before you remember he had been here when Huck wished you goodbye.

"What?"

"What brings you here?"

"What brings a pretty boy like yourself to become a priest when you could be doing cooler shit?"

He clicks his tongue with his eyes gazing back to Janna's statue, muttering "touché" to himself before looking at you again. Mischief fills his gaze.

"So you think, I'm pretty."

"Don't talk as if you didn't know, Father. And don't try me."

"I'll have you know that I vowed celibacy. We're not meant to be, fledgling."

Your eye twitches as you hold back a chuckle.

"I know, not like I'd want a fucking twink."

"Such language, within the house of a god! How preposterous."

"Yack yack."

"Great deflection skills, though."

"Thanks, I spent years honing them so men in dresses could praise me for them." And a pause rings between you two, the man smirking once more while your eyes gaze at him in defiance.

"You gotta admit though." He pauses, his lips curling up further as you wait for the end of his statement, his dark green cassock shifting like sands with the breeze under the stained glass' filtered light. The beads of his rosary seemingly shining and the copper of his stole almost glowing.

"I look damn good in it." And with that you crack.

Laughter bubbling in your throat and escaping your mouth as your body relaxes. The banter enough to alleviate some of the discomfort you feel while inside such a place, surrounded by imagery of things you'd rather die than worship. The priest joins you as "sure, whatever man" escapes you between giggles.

"Is your back alright?"

"Is yours?" You defend and the man sigh, you're torn between saying he looks like his priestly patience is waning or like he's holding back another bout of laughter. "Come on, you knew what you were getting into the second you started talking to me."

"Yeah, I did."

"You can only chastise yourself for it, now go and confess or whatever it is that believers do."

"Do you truly want me to go?"

"I don't know, do I?" And when he starts to leave you cackle at the groan he lets out before slumping back next to you. "Looks like you can't even if you wanted to leave my horrible presence."

"Oh yes, a woman with a sharp tongue, such a curse. Whatever shall I do?" He sarcastically bites back as his eyes roll.

"Careful there priest, wouldn't want you to see how empty that brain is."

His gaze snaps back to yours with an incredulous look, a hand over his heart in mock offense. Your arms drape over the back of the wooden bench as you lean your head back, a heavy chuckled breath escaping your lips before you close your eyes, the ambiance in the church less threatening and bile inducing to you after the friendly banter.

"You're funny for a priest."

"I'm a priest, didn't say I'm also unfunny. I can only have so many flaws, fledgling."

You show your middle finger to the man who softly slaps it away with a sigh of his own. "No, but you're very uncreative. Gotta step up your game, pretty boy. And I'd advise you against calling me a fledgling."

"Or what, fledgling? What will you do?"

"Or I'll really burn your Janna statue down."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Bite me." He chuckles once more.

Silence sets between the both of you, your own mind shockingly at ease in the man's presence even with his job description and your presence judged by the figures in the carved stone and gilded, tinted windows. The soft, colored rays dance behind your lids as you take a moment to breathe.

Men of the cloth were human, yet due to your own avoidance and aversion to all that is linked to faith you seem to have forgotten such a fact. The person besides you much less pedantic than you've expected him to be, even with his height, his role and his beauty. But wasn't that the nature of a priest? To guide, to love, to forgive?

It doesn't matter, he still is what he is and believes what he believes.

Says the ugly part of you, corroded by bitterness and hatred, hissing in your ears like a pit of vipers starved and ready to strike at anything and anyone, using you as a vessel for their torturous venom.

I should leave this place, I don't deserve this. I'm wasting his time. I shouldn't be here.

Says the other more pathetic part of you, friable and eroded by sadness and misery, crumbling at the thought of any change, of anything good being given to you, wailing like a pit to hell opened within your heart just to torment you.

Your eyes open to look at the vaulted ceiling, high above you and stretching towards the heavens, your right hand lifting to protect your face from the bright, tinted light of the stained glass lining every wall.

I'm doing this for Vi and Sev.

You tell yourself, when the rays begin to feel all too hot as if to burn you alive, like the filthy monster you know you are.

It's the last time I try.

Tears well up in your eyes but you hold strong, unwilling to show vulnerability in a place such as this, guarded and overlooked by a god that preferred mocking you rather than help.

Your face stings as it scrunches, a frown setting itself on your face. Doubts sprouting in your mind like flowers in spring. A spiral beginning once more within the deep, worn recesses of your mind.

Can I even be helped? For all I know I'm a lost case.

Can this place truly offer me what I need?

Questions that are not uncommon in your head. Vision blurry, you drop your arm over your face, trying to hold yourself together. You're already doing this, showing any more weakness could very well make you a puppet within the hands of fate, within the Father's grasp.

You're an empty, hopeless shell, beaten and bruised from a life of fighting tooth and nail for just a crumb of fulfillment that you've never felt. And probably would never feel. You're like Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, your own weight a burden for yourself and anyone that dares come close. The willpower you take from your rage has waned years ago, yet you push yourself, you dare to hope things could get better even if they never do.

So you work.

Day and night to not feel the ever growing emptiness within yourself, aided by your isolation and misery. Nothing ever working towards making you feel any better and your guilt taking more and more space within your life with each day that passes. The exhaustion making the abyss take a stronger hold on you yet emptying your brain for just long enough that you can feel numb instead of miserable. A need for approval always quenched yet growing hungrier as days pass, comfort rarely given. Sleep seldom reaching you unless you pass out in your bed still dressed from the day and always interrupted by nightmares that now carry onto he waking world.

You feel an unbearable amount of guilt from burdening your friends, from never feeling right, from getting worse, from wasting your life feeling the way you do, for not being fixable, for never meeting your expectations that you know are beyond unfair. From pushing everyone away, whether you want to or not, to avoid any more pain. From not trying any harder to hold your brother back that day although you know very well that in every way possible you would have lost him all the same. Guilt at the feeling of not having cherished your loved ones enough in the past and present.

Everything you own, everyone you love, slips between your fingers like sand until all that is left is the void that life has created within you. Deepening, growing larger, no matter how much you patch yourself up, no matter how much you try to fill it.

You're like a pierced vessel, your contents forever pouring out uncontrollably until all that is left is nothing. Your heart like shattered glass, cutting, dangerous, dirtied and bloodied from how much you've tried to piece it back together with your scarred hands.

And then there's Piltover, opening its borders and helping Zaun yet making everything in its confines impossible for any Zaunite to afford. Raising the bar so high that most can never hope to reach it.

The gods, especially Jan'ahrem whose home you are currently invading, never helping. Never moving a finger to help those deserving when the ones who use their powers to further their despicable agendas as getting out scot free as if blessed by the lords above.

Even when you cried and begged as a child.

Even when your people prayed to them, to her, every day.

Finding your suffering and grovelling entertaining enough to help you as you try to claw your way out of hell. Your inner thoughts scarlet and burning like the scenery of the bridge you lost the last of yourself in. At least the last part holding any hope for yourself and the world you live in.

Kha h'asiras yakuna.

I am tired.

Your sleeve absorbs the tears escaping your eyes like a sudden downpour, leaving the dam of your eyelids no matter how hard you shut them. Sobs bubbling from within you swiftly locked away deep within the recesses of yourself that you've locked away to everyone, even yourself.

I need to be stronger, I need to hold out. But I can't anymore.

And you think of it more and more as time passes, your fight leaving you and only the young, scared girl that you try so hard not to be remains.

I need to be stronger.

Your nails scratch against woods, all sounds drowned within the cacophony of your mind, the hissing vipers and wailing spirits growing louder as time passes.

I'm tired of making it by the skin of my teeth.

I'm tired of pouring from an empty cup that I don't even own anymore.

I'm tired of being tired.

I'm tired of trying so hard only for nothing to work.

Something resounds within the impossible noise in your heart, yet it's hard to discern it from the rest. Probably another demon, rising from hell to torment you. Your hand grips the wood tighter as you try to keep your breathing constant in its depth and cadence.

I can't be weak.

I can't show it all.

It's ugly, it's monstrous and rotten. An all consuming darkness that taints all I touch, all those I meet. Marking them with the curse of my existence within theirs.

No one deserves to see. To hear. To feel just how pathetic I am.

Even less them.

Your teeth grit at the thought of the statue observing your distressed state with glee, at the priest next to you, at anyone that could pass by you at this instant. Your nails carving harder into the pew, pain piercing your fingertips before you ball your fist and hit the wood.

The new sound echoes once more, louder this time, yet still ignored. Your jaw setting at the inner turmoil, the searing pain flowing from your heart and through every cell in your body, hot and cold, fire and ice, the sands of Shurima and the Freljord's everlasting tundra.

I am undeserving of patience and care.

No one should have to be there for me, of all people.

You taste blood from within your mouth, the church's calm atmosphere after your banter with the priest long forgotten as your rage bubbles once more, this time pointed like war pikes towards yourself.

But from the prison of your mind, through worn and tight shackles, you feel hand touches your shoulder and your arm leaves your face, grabbing whoever touched you in a bruising grip. Your eyes glare at the man, his concerned face coming into view before a wince escapes him, your hand leaving him as if you have been burned. Your body sliding as far away from Father Valášek's as possible.

"What?"

"Are you okay? You've been like this for the past twenty or so minutes."

His eyes, always kind trail over your face before you turn it away from him. Refusing to show vulnerability as you wipe away at the remnants of tears left beneath your eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Stop deflecting."

"What can I say? It's my strongest attribute, so I use it."

"I actually very much would like to know." He gently calls out from behind you, his accented voice softly pulling you away from your thoughts. "I am here to help, not to harm. Whatever you have against Janna or anyone else cannot apply to me. It's my life's work to simply open my eyes, my ears, my heart and my arms to those who need it."

Silence rings once more as you shuffle around, turning back to the priest with tired eyes, stinging from tears yet to be shed. Tears that would not escape you this time.

"I don't want any bullshit about gods, gospel or fucking whatever you do with believers."

"I can't promise anything, it is in my job description after all." He jokes, a welcoming smile stretching on his lips and you sigh, air escaping you as if getting away from you is all it could ever dream of.

"If your only advice is to tell me to turn to religion, I really will beat you with your cane."

"And I'd like to see you try, although you do have a strong grip I'll give you that." He flexes his left hand, wincing at the remnants of pain you have caused and your eyes trail to his. Gazing with restraint into the pools of celestial gold.

"Friends told me to come here because I'm lost." He hums. "This is my last resort." He nods along to your words, time passing as he takes in your words before he speaks again.

"Tell me, only if you wish, what are you seeking here? What do you want me to provide?" His brown hair catches the light in a way that makes him look as if he hailed from Mount Targon, the grey strands nearly looking like Lunarian silver. His patience and kindness nearly making your skin crawl and your throat burn with bile in self-disgust.

You claw at the pews once more, your eyes trailed on your left hand where your fingernails were broken and slightly bloodied from your previous ministrations. Then your eyes return to Father Valášek's with resignation tainting their depths, the look making the priest's eyebrows furrow in worry.

"Something worth living for. Something that can fix me. Because as it is? I'd rather die than go through another day."

And silence rings loud through the chapel.

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[syoish-aot]

"I Found You (too)" - EREN/READER - REINCARNATION AU (chapter 7)

eren/reader

reincarnation & memory loss

rating: M (16+)

cw: canon-typical & internalized xenophobia, disassociating

word count: 2061

<- CH 6

“Mr. Kruger?”

“Um- …yeah.”

You scowl.

Mr. Kruger looks over at you. “What?”

“Why do you do that?”

“Why do I do what?”

“Get uncomfortable when I say your name.”

“It’s-” his cheeks flush pink. You’re not used to them doing that because in the real world they don't; but here, in this dream you find yourself trapped in, things are different.

Mr. Kruger is different.

“Is it because that’s not your name here?” You ask him. “I can call you by your other name if you want.”

He shifts uncomfortably on the couch next to you and you can’t help but want to tease him, just a bit. He’s so easy to tease here and it’s fun. You lean in closer.

He freezes as your hand rests against his arm. As your chest brushes his shoulder. As your lips tickle the shell of his ear:

“Eren.”

His cheeks burn an even deeper red. It makes you think about thedifferences between this dream and reality. 

Everything is so much quieter here. The city is still loud, of course, but there’s a peace to it. A peace that you never find in Liberio. 

The food here is better. There’s more flavor and more food in general because nothing is rationed.

There’s no war. No pain. No suffering. And no red spray paint against brick walls.

And then there’s Mr. Kruger.

Eren.

He looks the same (although he’s got both eyes and legs). With the same long hair (although he normally ties it up instead of letting it hang down) and the same facial features (although his skin is less rough, with fewer scars and no tired bags under his eyes). He’s the same height. Basic build. And has the same blue-green eyes that reveal golden flecks of stars when the light hits them just right. But…

Mr. Kruger smiles here. He smiles and he laughs and he plays with the cats while he tells you about his friends. 

He was alive in Liberio in the sense that he was breathing, eating, moving around and going through the motions of life. But here, in this beautiful vivid peaceful dream, here Mr. Kruger is able to live.

And there’s a difference, you suppose. A difference between living and being alive.

Maybe that’s what made them different people, despite all of their similarities.

There was something depressingly poetic about the whole thing, but you didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about it right now.

“Mr. Kruger.” You say and he visibly relaxes. You follow up with: “I’m hungry.” 

Mr. Kruger shoots off the couch and darts into the kitchen without another word.

You smiled to yourself as you watched it, reminded of another difference between this beautiful peaceful dream and reality.

He might look like him, sort of, but at the end of the day Eren wasn’t Mr. Kruger at all.

Mr. Kruger had no idea how to cook.

“I made you a cake, obviously.” You tell Mr. Kruger in answer to his question, as you begin to rebandage his head.

“What kind of cake?” He asks.

“Hmm… strawberry.”

He grimaces.

“Chocolate?”

He shrugs.

You stop bandaging. “You like vanilla?”

“I don’t like flavors that are too strong.”

You scoff.

“Hey,” he protests, “it’s my birthday.”

You smile as you continue to bandage his head. “Alright fine, I made vanilla then,” as you expertly wrap and tuck the bandages, you continue to ramble about the made-up birthday party you would throw him in your head. Describing it in vivid detail, as if it was real. 

As if it was in front of you instead of the palace in your head.

You imagine Mr. Kruger’s hand brushing against the back of yours as you hand him a slice of cake.

But you don’t tell him about that part of the fantasy.

“I would wear… a blue dress. Oh! And one of those big floppy hats to keep the sun out of my face!”

You’re helping him across the courtyard. He’s sore from an intense session of physical therapy and needs more than just his crutch to get around.

Mr. Kruger grunts as you lower him to his favourite bench where he said he was meeting his friend. 

“Do you sunburn easily?” He asks.

“Yes. All the time.”

He lets out a short huff of amusement as his eyes trail your face. “I bet you skip tan and go right to red.”

Your cheeks burn as he says it.

In your head, you’re potting hanging baskets of pretty red flowers on the balcony. In your head, it’s not just his eyes that trail your cheeks. In your head, his hand reaches up to brush against them too.

Again, you don’t tell him about that part of the fantasy.

“Chamomile.” Mr. Kruger says softly as you hand him his paper cup and his three pills. You already slipped the green one into your pocket.

You blink away the tears that have started to well up in your eyes.

“That’s the kind of tea I’d bring you.” Mr. Kruger says. “It’s relaxing.”

You always get this way on the anniversary of his death. You weren’t supposed to be sad though. He was a traitor, so you were supposed to be happy he was dead.

But you weren’t.

You take in a shaky breath. “Would you… Would you sit with me while I drink it?”

“Yes.” Mr. Kruger takes his medicine.

You imagine the couch. The tea.

You imagine letting your head fall to his shoulder and your eyes slipping closed as Mr. Kruger describes the chipped cup he’d hand you, and the cat that would be asleep in your lap.

Once you were finished with your tea, he’d take the empty cup from you. He’d place it on the table and then wrap his arm around you so you could tuck yourself against his chest. He would rub your back as you cried. As he let you cry. 

When you were done, he’d kiss the top of your head while you drifted off to sleep.

Like usual, you don’t tell Mr. Kruger that last part.

The house grows more vivid. More detailed. More wonderful and into a more perfect escape with little pieces of you and little pieces of Mr. Kruger as well.

Paintings. Souvenirs. A collection of different mugs and teacups because you can’t help constantly buying new ones.

It becomes more than just your home.

It becomes his home too.

“What would you do?” Mr. Kruger asks. 

It was well into the evening and several hours past the end of your shift. You should have gone home ages ago, but instead, you were sitting in his hospital bed next to him- so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his shoulder.

But you weren’t touching.

Never touching.

The few centimetres between the two of you are as close as you’ll be able to get in reality.

Thankfully, you’re not in reality right now. Instead, you’re swept up in the fantasy of your small, safe home. You're somewhere that’s nice. 

“I would read a book on the couch,” you answer. “What would you do?”

“Sit next to you,” he says. “The cats won't leave me alone.”

You laugh. “It’s because you ignore them. Cats like that, you know. They like it when you play hard to get.”

“Maybe I should play harder.” 

“It’ll only make them like you more.”

The corners of his lips just barely lift into a smile, but they drop again a moment later.

A silence passes over you as you sink into the moment. You’re staring at the wall across from you, but the hospital room isn’t what surrounds you.

Not really.

What surrounds you is framed photos. Plants. A warm couch and the smell of a homemade dinner wafting in from the kitchen. There are people in the streets below. People at peace, because there isn’t any war here. No pain. No suffering at all.

There are only things that are nice.

Nothing else is allowed.

It’s just you and Mr. Kruger.

You lean against him.

But you don’t-...

You take a short breath.

You’re normally confident when you talk to Mr. Kruger about the nice place in your head, but right now that confidence is fading. It’s fading because you can imagine doing it, but you’ve never let those thoughts be known like you let all the others. But what if you did? Just this once. What if you…

“I’d move closer to you...” you tell him, just above a whisper, “...so our arms could touch.”

You can imagine it so perfectly. The brush of his arm against yours. If you leaned over, even just slightly, you’d feel it. But that’s reality.

You’re not in reality right now. You’re somewhere nice.

You take a short breath: “And I’d-”

“I’d hold your hand.” Mr. Kruger cuts you off, “...I bet it’s soft.”

Your fingers twitch against your lap. They curl together and you imagine the sensation of his hand replacing one of yours. 

“I-...” you stutter, “...yours is too…”

It’s warm. 

Not just his hand, but everything else. The house. The couch. The life. The people on the street below you. The cat in your lap. Mr. Kruger sitting beside you.

It’s warm. It’s soft. It’s comfortable. It’s perfect. The most wonderful escape. The most amazing dream. You wish it was real, you do, but at the same time you hope somewhere like that never slips into reality because you know if it did it would become tainted. 

Reality is thick ropes. Flesh. Bone. Red words against brick walls. Reality takes the tiniest spark of something pure, of something good, and turns it into a nightmare.

Somewhere nice couldn’t possibly be real. That warm, soft, comfortable, perfect place would be ruined if it was.

So you don’t want it to be real. Not at all. You never want it to be real. If it was real it wouldn’t be perfect.

If it was real, you could never-

“...I’d kiss you...”

You can see it, so vividly, just like the couch and the food and the chipped tea cups.

You see Mr. Kruger right next to you. Holding your hand. You see yourself pull back, just enough that you can meet his blue-green eyes. Your own eyes flick down, just for one second, to his lips, and when you glance up he looks different.

His bandages are gone and he’s got both eyes and legs. His long hair is tied up instead of hanging down. His skin is less rough, with fewer scars and no tired bags under his eyes. He’s the same. He’s the same height. Basic build. And has the same blue-green eyes that reveal golden flecks of stars when the light hits them just right. But…

He’s smiling.

He’s smiling and laughing and talking to you so much faster and louder than he normally does he’s--

He’s alive.

And there’s a difference, you suddenly realize, a difference between living and being alive.

Without a second thought, you lean forward.

You kiss him, cutting off whatever he had been rambling about in favour of sinking into the feeling of his warm lips against yours.

Warm.

Just like the rest of the wonderful dream.

You’d spent the last few weeks describing a lot of your fantasies to Mr. Kruger, but there were still things you kept to yourself. Stolen glances. Soft touches. Feelings that you couldn’t admit to, not even in the fantasy.

But then you’d gone and said it:

‘I’d kiss you.’ You had told him, only a fraction of a second ago without taking a moment to think it over. 

And you aren’t given a moment, not really, because the image of it happening flashes through your mind so quickly, and in that time, Mr. Kruger makes his reply.

He takes in a short breath. His body completely motionless next to you.

He’s looking out the window.

“...I’d kiss you too…” he says, his eyes never leaving the line of the horizon.

He lifts a hand to cup your cheek and kisses you back, pulling you against him on the couch.

The scratchy couch.

The warm world.

The perfect fantasy where you’ll never live - but for once in your life you can be alive.

You stare at the blank, depressing hospital wall.

You should go home.

TAG LIST - [like this post to be added]

@azulaenthusiast @ilovemollyweasley @kooromin

@janneeeexdxc @dumdxm @ebubeu

@merrygo14 @gojojang @maluvilela

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@suagxsugax @dattebakay @br0ken-g1rl

@datshittuebrat @hayleighloatx @skoll1897

((I'm getting a bit of burnout with this fic, and some comments on your thoughts so far would go a long way in terms of igniting that spark. So please let me know what you think so far <3 thank you guys for reading!!))

[waight-gain]

Chapter 6: Intimate Moments

Mike and Sam

This whole story is filled with more NSFW scenes than my previous

Apparently I just skipped Chp 6 sorry y'all

Chapter 6: Intimate Moments

The aroma of multiple boxes of pizzas, cheesy bread, and sodas filled the car as Mike and Sam drove home, the boxes stacked on Sam's lap. As they pulled into the driveway, Mike couldn't help but feel a deep sense of anticipation.

Inside, they quickly set up the dining table with plates, napkins, and the cold sodas. Sam's eyes widened as Mike opened the pizza boxes, revealing the massive pies loaded with toppings. "Wow, this looks amazing," Sam said, his mouth already watering.

Mike smiled, feeling a surge of desire. "Dig in," he said, handing Sam a slice. "Let's see how much of this you can handle."

As Sam took his first bite, his eyes closed in pure bliss. The combination of melted cheese, savory toppings, and crispy crust was heavenly. Mike watched him, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. He loved seeing Sam enjoy food, and the joy on Sam's face was intoxicating.

"You look incredible, Sam," Mike murmured, his voice low and husky. "I love watching you eat, seeing your body respond to every bite."

Sam looked up at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and arousal. "I love how you look at me, Mike," he said, his voice soft. "It makes me feel…sexy."

Mike's heart raced with desire. He reached out, his hand tracing the curve of Sam's belly, feeling the soft, pliant flesh beneath his touch. "You are sexy," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "And I can't wait to explore every inch of you tonight."

As they continued to eat, the air between them grew thick with tension. Mike's eyes never left Sam's body, watching as each bite of pizza disappeared, seeing the way Sam's belly expanded with every mouthful. The sight was intoxicating, and Mike couldn't help but feel a growing need to touch, to explore, to indulge.

When the pizzas were finally gone, Mike stood up, his eyes locked on Sam's. "You still have cheesy bread to finish, and don’t you worry, I didn’t forget about dessert."

Sam looked at the remaining cheesy bread, his eyes widening slightly. "Mike, I don't know if I can finish all of this," he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Mike's expression turned more dominant, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, you can and you will," he said, his voice firm yet playful. He picked up a piece of cheesy bread and brought it to Sam's lips. "Open up, Sam. You know you want it."

Sam's eyes fluttered closed as he parted his lips, allowing Mike to feed him the cheesy bread. The soft moans escaping his lips were a mix of pleasure and slight discomfort from the sheer amount of food he had already consumed. Mike watched him intently, feeling a surge of dominance and desire.

"That's it, Sam. You're doing so well," Mike murmured, his voice filled with pride and lust. He continued to feed Sam the remaining pieces of cheesy bread, each bite eliciting more moans and soft gasps from Sam.

Once the cheesy bread was finally gone, Mike stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter. He returned with a large, beautifully decorated chocolate cake, setting it down in front of Sam with a triumphant smile.

"And now, for the grand finale," Mike said, his voice filled with excitement. "I found this recipe online—a super high-calorie chocolate cake, just for you. I know how much you love chocolate, Sam."

Sam's eyes widened in awe and anticipation. "Mike, that looks amazing," he said, his voice filled with gratitude and desire. "But I'm not sure I can handle any more…"

Mike leaned in, his voice low and commanding. "You can and you will, Sam. I want to see you enjoy every last bite. Trust me, you'll love it."

Sam's breath hitched as Mike cut a generous slice of the cake and brought it to his lips. The rich, decadent aroma filled the air, and Sam couldn't help but feel a growing need to indulge. He parted his lips, allowing Mike to feed him the cake. The first bite was pure bliss, the chocolate melting in his mouth, the sweetness overwhelming his senses.

Mike watched him intently, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction and desire. "That's it, Sam. Enjoy it. Feel every bite, every sensation."

Sam's moans grew louder, more desperate as he continued to eat the cake. The pleasure was overwhelming, the pressure building within him, the need for release becoming almost unbearable.

"Mike," he gasped, his voice filled with need. "I'm so full, but it feels so good."

Mike's movements became more urgent, more demanding. He fed Sam the last of the cake, watching as his body responded to every bite, the way he trembled, the way he moaned. It was intoxicating.

When the cake was finally gone, Mike stood up, his eyes locked on Sam's. Sam's body had expanded significantly, his belly round and full, stretching the fabric of his shirt to its limits. His cheeks were flushed, and his breath came in short, labored gasps, the sheer volume of food making it difficult for him to breathe comfortably. His thighs pressed tightly against the chair, and his arms rested heavily on the table, the soft flesh of his biceps spilling over the edges.

"Come with me," Mike said, his voice filled with command and desire. Sam followed him without a word, his heart pounding with anticipation.

In the bedroom, Mike slowly undressed Sam, his hands roaming over every curve and roll of his body. He could feel the heat radiating from Sam's skin, the softness of his flesh beneath his touch. Sam's breath hitched as Mike's fingers traced the lines of his body, exploring every inch of him.

Mike’s own body was a sight to behold. As he undressed, his muscles rippled under his taut skin, each movement revealing the definition of his lean frame. His chest was broad and firm, his abs tightly defined, leading down to a narrow waist. His arms were sculpted, the muscles flexing with every motion. His thighs were powerful, the muscles tensing as he moved, and his calves were tightly corded.

"You're so beautiful, Sam," Mike murmured, his voice filled with awe and desire. "I love every curve, every roll. I love how you've grown, how you've changed."

Sam's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping his lips as Mike's hands continued to explore his body. He could feel the heat of Mike's touch, the way his fingers traced the lines of his belly, the curves of his thighs. It was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but feel a growing need for more.

Mike's lips found Sam's, kissing him deeply, passionately. His hands roamed over Sam's body, squeezing the soft flesh on his sides, feeling the weight of his growth. Sam's moans grew louder, his body trembling with desire as Mike's touch became more insistent, more demanding.

"I want to feel you, Mike," Sam whispered, his voice filled with need. "I want to feel you inside me."

Mike's heart raced with desire. He quickly undressed, his body pressing against Sam's, feeling the softness of his flesh, the heat of his skin. He could feel Sam's need, his desire, and it fueled his own. Mike’s body was tight and bloated, his skin almost shining from the sheer volume of food packed into his gut. The contrast between their bodies was stark and arousing, Mike’s lean strength against Sam’s pliant curves.

As they came together, Mike's hands gripped Sam's hips, feeling the softness of his flesh, the weight of his growth. He thrust into Sam, feeling the tightness of his body, the way he enveloped him completely. Sam's moans filled the room, his body trembling with pleasure as Mike moved within him.

Sam's body arched against Mike's, his moans growing louder, more desperate. He could feel the pleasure building within him, the pressure growing, the need for release becoming overwhelming.

"Mike," he gasped, his voice filled with need. "I'm close, so close."

Mike's movements became more urgent, more demanding. He could feel Sam's body responding to him, the way he trembled, the way he moaned. It was intoxicating. As they reached the peak of their pleasure, their bodies trembling, their moans filling the room, Mike felt a surge of raw, primal satisfaction. He gripped Sam's hips tighter, his thrusts becoming deeper and more intense, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure from both of them. Sam's body arched against him, his moans turning into desperate cries as he reached the edge of his climax.

The room was filled with the sound of their bodies coming together, the scent of their arousal, and the electric tension of their connection. With a final, powerful thrust, Mike pushed them both over the edge, their bodies convulsing in unison as they reached the height of their pleasure. The world around them faded away, leaving only the intense, all-consuming sensation of their shared ecstasy.

[tahbhie]

Creating Aesthetic Posts On Tumblr! 🎨

Do you know the exciting thing about formatting on Tumblr? You get to do what you want with your post. 

However, if it's still confusing how you can make that happen, let's dive in right away. 

♡ 🌹 ♡

STEP ONE: Know your post.

Figure out what your post is about and get it ready. Is it a prompt, an excerpt from your story, your characters, or writing tips and advice? 

Ensure you already have the draft edited and ready.

STEP TWO: Major headlines or titles.

If your post has headlines, use the biggest font for the title. Examples:

⚔️ Five easy ways to get a novel done in 6 months.

Chapter 2: A Broken Mirror. 💔

👉Interview with my characters. 

STEP THREE: Minor headlines or subheadings.

If you have subheadings or minor headlines, use the bigger font. Examples:

✯✯Read books to be a writer. 

✯✯Attend local writing events. 

✯✯ Share your work for feedback. 

✯✯Write consistently

✯✯Set goals. 

STEP FOUR: Colour and highlights.

You can colour your text too, to prove a point, highlight an important message, or for beauty. Long press or highlight the word, phrase, or sentence you wish to add colour to. Example:

With the recent activity happening lately, it has been concluded that it's dangerous to go outside at night. 

Give me a reason why you chose to call at such an odd hour. 

Cats and dogs are great pets. 

Be my bestie!

STEP FIVE: Bold and italics

Long press or highlight your words to bold or italicize.  Example:

I can't believe she just said that. 

STEP SIX: Embedded link and link box.

If you have a link you want to share, you can do it in two ways.

👉 Embed the link in a text by long-pressing or highlighting the word, phrase, or sentence, clicking the chain icon, and inserting the link. Example:

Buy me a rose if you love what I do to support me.❣️

👉 You can also click on the chain icon to generate a link box, then paste the link in it, and click enter. It would show the content of your link. Example:

If you'd like to support me, buy me a rose. 

STEP SEVEN: Emojis.

Use emojis to enhance the beauty of your posts when you feel the need to. Example:

My beautiful plushies just arrived, guys; unbox with me!! 😍🧸

STEP EIGHT: Emoticons

Use emoticons. They are similar to emojis, but made up of signs and symbols. You can use them as emojis or as beautification. Examples:

✅ I pranked my brother with water balloons yesterday; now he hates me. :(

☞⁠ Some items my friend asked me to get for her birthday. ☜

☞⁠Heels

☞⁠Balloons 

☞⁠Dress

☞⁠Cake 

☞⁠Confetti 

☞⁠Donut 

☞⁠Punch bowl

STEP NINE: Use listicle

To organize your work and keep it clean, make use of lists. Examples:

Wake up in the morning.

Brush your teeth.

Wash your face.

Eat breakfast, and

Drink coffee.

OR

Wake up in the morning.

Brush your teeth.

Wash your face.

Eat breakfast, and

Drink coffee.

STEP TEN: Images and image descriptions. 

You can use images that are free for use on sites like Pexels, Unsplash, etc. Example:

OR

You create your own images on Canva. The image could be infographics, mood boards, etc. Example:

Image descriptions: To increase accessibility, click on the ellipsis on your image, click 'add alt text, then enter a description of your image. See examples above!

If you are an artist, your art can be added to your post where necessary.

STEP ELEVEN: GIF

Use GIF when you feel like it. 

STEP TWELVE: Memes.

Create memes on sites like Memix to add a comical side to your post. Example:

OR writing-related memes like:

STEP THIRTEEN: Polls. 

You can add a poll to ask the audience questions, giving them specific answers to choose from. You can also set how long you want the poll to last from the drop-down icon, and have up to twelve options.

To create a poll, click on the beach wave-like icon located in the lower right, next to the two human-like figures. Example:

STEP FOURTEEN: Music.

The headphone icon is to add any music to your post. Could be a music that speaks more of your character, etc. 

STEP FIFTEEN: Tags 

You can tag your mutuals, friends, or people you want to see a certain post. In most cases, writing games and challenges.

@tahbhie

Before posting your formatted post, add # to increase the visibility. There's an option under your post that lets you do that. Click the plus icon and you're on your way. Popular writing tags: #writerblr #writers #novel writing etc..

☞ You can mix all of these ideas to get what works best for each of your posts.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Good Omens: Miscellaneous Smut Masterlist

The kinks, ships, and prompts listed for each post so you can know what you want to read (in case the titles aren't descriptive enough)!

(Listed in order of oldest to newest!) (And how they're formatted on my AO3)

1. Rules + Info + Requests

2. Chapter Summaries

3. Apology: Warnings: Sex Prompt: I noticed that you're accepting requests for good omens - aziraphale coming back from heaven after leaving Crowley and things escalating up to apology sex/giving Crowley the opportunity to let out his pent-up frustrations? Whoever's the top or bottom is up to you

4. Tiny Kisses: Warnings: Micro/Macro, Oral Play, Overstimulation, Unplanned Exhibitionism, Grinding, Palming Prompt: Aziraphale sweetly convincing Crowley to shrink down just so he can press kisses over him and show his love, and unintentionally managing to turn Crowley on in the process

5. Itty Bitty And Bossy: Warnings: Micro/Macro, Oral Play, Humping Prompt: I just read your tiny crowley good omens shot; what about a reverse situation? Aziraphale shrinking down, maybe Crowley thinks he can get a little bit of humiliation pay back only for him to still end up being the one more submissive anyway? [sequel to "Tiny Kisses"]

6. Let Them Eat Cake Warnings: Feederism, Slight Overeating, Food Play, Blowjobs Prompt: With good omens, Aziraphale going through a baking phase and making so much at a time that he gets to the point where he has a large amount that he wants to finish before it goes bad and recruits Crowley to help him make sure he eats it all, and Crowley who's a slut for watching his Angel eat as is

[blossoms-phan]

will never pass up the opportunity, so! i am asking. what are your phanfic recommendations?

ask (honoured!) and you shall receive bestie! quick preface: i returned to the wonderful world of reading phanfic around the start of this year and have admittedly missed out on years of incredible work i am now catching up on! also in terms of what i read i generally lean towards current-era fics, canon compliant/fluff/smut- although i'm always taking recs from lovely moots/whoever, you may find this isn't the largest range (no aus/long chapter fics or whatever) but this is just a selection of what i've discovered/loved in the past few months and i hope to make more of these as i discover more writings!

shoutout to everyone on here for their recs, all the incredible fanfic writers and the peeps at @phanfictioncatalogue for their work and accessibility and being the reason i discovered so many new fics/tropes i now love <3 ok lets get into ittttttttt

"you look at my face a lot" by natigail: i credit this fic for getting me into reading phanfic again in 2024 <3 one of the first ones i read post-hiatus and i've returned to it countless times! it makes my heart jump, just so sweet and so them. the slittening(s) were such an iconic moment i can't believe it's been 6+ months since them but i love the little moments like dan describing phil's hair colour to a sephora worker, always wanting to know more about each other and the soft intimacy.

"the angel in the marble" by ivylakes: OHH MY GOODNESS this one is artttt. this one is my fave of the post-phlondeing fics i can just see and feel everything that happens, the loving, lazy intimacy, and following this week's t-shirt events it absolutely cements my HC that angel is a nickname for our philly. introspection, hair-kissing, body worship- i eat it up (im having a thing for mirrors in fics rn so there's also that)

"slumber party" by possumdnp: if i wasn't already clear reality-based fics really just do it for me and i love this one!! slumber party is one of my favourite recent-ish gaming vids and i just love the cozy comfort vibes of having a sleepover and getting a little flirty with your best friend/crush going on 15 years <3

"after the birthday stream" by trashcanfromgallifrey: the birthday stream ignited something in all of us but this is just such a perfect depiction of (possible) events after hehe. feels so them, just love the loving intimacy and shower activities and fluffy endings with cake <3 (shoutout hannah ily!!)

"lovers, keep on the road you're on" by possumdnp: another personal fave. japhan 2019 is EVERYTHING to me, this is so lovely and well-researched and i just go in between reading this and watching the stories from it when i want to cry and book a flight to tokyo

"welcome home! (never leave that long again)" by natigail: this one is just soooooo soft and sweet and fluffy. so heartwarming and one of the many wad reunion fics that has my heart <3

ok i'm going to end up including all 40+ of my bookmarks (not a lot. but working on it hehe) if i don't stop myself so as much as i could write paragraphs about all of these just know that my PPA test is positive and i was probably sweating/giggling/kicking my feet at all of these so here's a speedrun list of pure smut (sorry it's a lot of what i read lmao):

"juxtaposition", "slow down", "sensitive", "some kind of mood" and literally everything written by the force that is intoapuddle

"come light me up" by JudeAraya (perhap not pure smut but I loveeee the teasing and characterization in this so so dan ugh)

"appreciation" by Scuddleduck

"a little vitamin D" by Spring_Haze

"good for you, good for you" and "under my thumb" by dvp_95

"lucky" by iihappydaysii

i could keep going but for now i'm going to stop here! i'm sorry if this is messy i have no idea what i'm doing with linking and stuff but i hope this introduces at least one person to a new fic they end up loving! i lurked/read sooo many fics before finally creating an a03 account only a little over a month ago so i def might be missing some i've forgotten to go back and bookmark! shoutout to all of these writers (i could include multiple works from them all u ppl are amazing)- again i'm soo open to discovering more phanfic and want to expand my horizons, i've started to read some chaptered fics i didn't include on here but will reblog more current reads where i can! also if we're moots pls shamelessly promote your works i'd love to check them out! need to start commenting more too but ok ok wrapping it up

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Unexpected visitors - Welcome to Aurora ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Part 6 - Unexpected visitors

Summary: After the things that happened on Mavery everything was supposed to go back to how the daily life was, while tracking down another crew, but two little visitors made a change of plans.

Pairing : Pirate! Hongjoong x Fem! Reader

Word count : 3.5K Words

Genre : Fluff, Romance, Slow Burn

Warnings ➵ Kids have injuries from another crrw

a/n : Finally got around to write the next chapter this is rather a little fillet chapter with a guest apperance of someone from my other stories!♡ Let's see how many will know who it is!

《 Masterlist 》

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

A few days have passed by since the incident on Mavery, and Hongjoong has been a bit more strict with Yunho and Seonghwa since then, giving them tasks from day to night. Though it feels like he was slowly warming up to you, he doesn't glare at you that often anymore and even talked to you.

The next approach now was apparently an island some pirates often visited who stole something from Hongjoong that he wanted back. According to Mingi, though, it would still take some time till you guys would reach that island, making you go back to your daily tasks of training, helping Mingi, and looking for jobs to help out around the ship.

"Yeo I didn't eat-!" Mingi got kicked out of the kitchen sitting on his but in front of the door like a kicked puppy now. "Did Yeosang catch you stealing pie again?" Giggling at the offended man, he immediately shakes his head as he gets back up on his feet. "He accused me but I didn't! For real, this time, it wasn't me!" Mingi pouted as he walked past you, a soft pat on his back before you joined Yeosang in the kitchen, he looked obviously distraught. "Is the whole pie gone?" You ask, approaching the annoyed man as he looks over to you, nodding, disappointed. It was supposed to be a surprise for the guys, Yeosang bought the best products on Mavery for it. "I could help you? I mean, my baking isn't as good as yours, but I have this nice receipt my mother taught me; not much is needed either!" Yeosang looked at you with hopeful eyes, making sure you got access to everything you needed before bringing the dinner for the crew upstairs, leaving you to be on your own.

First, you needed some apples, washing them before putting them to the side, five to be exact. Turning around, you got the flour, milk, and eggs out; it was amazing to have fresh ingredients after stopping at an island. Mixing everything together, you went to grab the five apples to cut them up, but suddenly there were only four. Looking down at the floor, if one might have fallen down, you raised your eyebrow; maybe you counted wrong? Getting back to using the four you had, you put the pie into the oven before turning to clean everything up, Yeosang coming back just in time. "Thank you so much again! By the way, have you seen Seonghwas dagger? He mentioned how he left it on a table upstairs but it's gone now.." Raising your eyebrows in confusion now. First the pie, then the apple, and now the dagger?

"Yeo, could it be possible we have an unwanted guest on board? First, the pie, then an apple went missing just now when I was preparing the cake, and now Seonghwas dagger.." He nodded, acknowledging your assumption and making a little noise. "Better go and tell Hongjoong, I'll take care of the kitchen." Nodding, you quickly clean your hands before making your way to the captain's quarters, knocking before entering. "Hongjoong, Yeosang and I assume we may have an unwanted guest on board; a pie went missing, then an apple, and now Seonghwas dagger." The captain now looks up from his papers with and raised eyebrow as if you're crazy for disturbing him for something like this. "It was probably Mingi and Yunho? Mingi probably ate everything, and Yunho probably put the dagger away, assuming it was from your training." Your head sways from side to side now as you deny his assumption. "That can't be; Mingi said he didn't; the apple went missing when I turned around for a bit; I would've noticed Mingi, and my training is later today; he couldn't have mistaken it for training equipment." A sigh leaves Hongjoongs lips now; standing up now, you just now notice he is wearing rather simple clothes for once, a low-cut blouse and some high-waisted pants, some belts adorned his waist, and a necklace hung around his throat with a pendant. "Alright let's clear this up."

He follows you outside, ready to solve this and get back to his work. "So who ate the pie and stole the apple? And who took Seonghwas's dagger?" His voice sounded pretty annoyed, looking at every member of the crew, none stepping forward to admit who it was. "No one? Does it have to be the hard way?" His eyelid was now twitching in irritation from his crew. "Captain? You should look at this, this seems rather interesting." Yunhos voice sounds now, his eyes looking between some barrels. "What is it now?!" Approaching the barrels followed by you, you gasp when your eyes land on two children. The girl, looking around 6 years old, was holding the missing dagger in her trembling tiny hand, outstretched to the three of you, while her other arm was around a boy barely 4 years old probably, an apple in his hand, the empty pie tray beside them.

All three of you were rather speechless seeing the children there; Seonghwa approaches now, gasping softly when he sees the children, tears now slowly running over the girl's face upon seeing more and more people. "There there, no need to cry, pretty princess; how did you two get lost here, mh?" Seonghwa sat down in front of them now, pushing Hongjoong to the side with a side remark that his scowl was scaring the kids. The kids were trembling visibly, they must've been frightened to the core. The girl looked around till her teary eyes came to a stop on your face, her tiny hand slowly loosening around the dagger as your hand reached out to hand it to Seonghwa before sitting down before the two children. The girl took one last glance at the man around her before pressing her face to your chest, trying to hide from all the intruding gazes around her. The tiny body of the girl was shaking with sobs now, and her brother was looking confused at his sister now, clutching the apple tightly in his hands. He was also visibly frightened, but his brain wasn't quite able to grasp the situation. "Do you want to see something amazing? One of our members can break that apple in half with only his hands, how about you come out so he can show you." Stretching your hand out for the boy, he crawls over to you, laying his head on your shoulder now, before looking at all the people around him.

"It's okay now, you two are safe.." The girl's violent sobs slowly subsided to silent tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. Standing up with her in your arms now, you softly take the hand of the boy and lead them through the crowd that has gathered to your quarters, Seonghwa and Hongjoong behind you. "Get back to work, nothing to see here!" Hongjoong barks, before closing the door, watching you sit down on the bed with the girl on your lap. The little boy tugged on Seonghwas pants softly, holding the apple out for him and motioning for him to cut it up, making the male sit down with a smile and start to cut the apple into little bunny slices with his dagger. Taking a seat beside you now, Hongjoong looks at the girl all over, noticing rope burns on her wrist and bruises on what he could see of her arm, making his breath hitch. His eyes glance over to Seonghwa, who has noticed the same on the boy and is now meeting Hongjoongs eyes.

"How did you two get on here?" Hongjoongs voice was soft as the girl looked at him, his hand reaching out to push a strand of hair behind her ear before wiping her tears away softly. She looked over her shoulder to her brother, who was happily eating the apple slices Seonghwa made him with a smile, before casting her eyes back to Hongjoong. "We ran away from pirates that captured us and.. I saw you rescue this girl on the island so.. We hid on here.." Her voice was trembling and her tiny hands shaking, what this girl must've been through already in her young years of age. "Alright, you're safe now, you don't have to worry anymore. Where are you two from? We'll bring you back." Hongjoong had this soft look in his eyes, the same he looked at you with when you were crying on Mavery. "We're from a small kingdom to the east, it's called Horizon. Our parents are the king and queen." The girl explained, making your eyes go slightly wide; you have heard of that kingdom but never got to encounter it in any way; your parents had talked about it a few times. "I see; we will take you back as soon as possible; you two should probably sleep a little bit now." Looking up into your eyes you nod softly, laying the girl down in your bed, Seonghwa doing the same with the boy, before putting the blanket over them. "It will take a while, but we'll make sure you're back with your parents soon." Smiling at the softly, the girl thanks you quietly, before both slip into dreamland and the three of you exit the room.

"Mingi, we'll take a course to Horizon; we'll search for those assholes later. First, we'll get those kids home and then go find them." Hongjoong barks an order to Mingi and the crew, making the tall man nod and run to the steering wheel with his compass and little map book in hand. Mingi had a small book full of maps he personally took care of; it was a little help for him every time he had to quickly change course. "We'll probably take around five days to reach that island; I know it's a lot to ask for, but please look after those kids in the meantime, make sure they eat and rest well." Nodding, you saw another side of Hongjoong yet again today; he was truely different than you had assumed at first.

The kids slept rather long, both of them waking up in the evening when the sun was setting, peaking their heads out to watch some of the crew. "Oh, you two are awake! How did you sleep?" It was Wooyoung who approached them with a big grin, crouching down to them, the girl stepping protectively in front of her brother. "My my, you are such a brave young lady, protecting your brother with your whole being mh?" Another voice, this time it was San approaching, crouching down beside Wooyoung. "This is Wooyoung, and I'm San; we never got to know your two names; mind telling us?" San smiled at the sweetly; the girl was slowly letting her guard down, looking at San; he somehow had a comforting aura around him, yet she couldn't pinpoint why; it was as if she knew him. "My name is Eunhee.. And my brother is Heejun.." She mumbled softly, making San smile at her. "I see; you two are probably hungry, mh? Let's go eat something?" Holding out his arms for them, the siblings looked at each other for a second before holding onto his neck as he stands up with both of the children in his arms, carrying them over to where Yeosang was giving out the dinner for everyone.

"Three plates please!" San beams at Yeosang, who smiles at the two kids in his arms, calling you over. "Oh, you two are awake! How did you sleep? I see you meet San and Wooyoung!" You greet the two kids, who smile at you for the first time, handing Wooyoung two plates as you carry two more over to a table. "They even told us their names, Eunhee and Heejun!" San explains, pointing at the girl and then the boy, amazing how quickly they seemed to trust him. "What pretty names! Enjoy your food and then you can go back to the room or enjoy some more time with Sannie and Woo!" You softly pat their head, before returning to help Yeosang with the food. "She reminds me of my mom, so elegant and lovely, yet strong." Eunhee tells San, while her brother was already feasting on his first warm meal in probably days or weeks. "Oh really? She is definitely a little sweetheart. She hasn't been with us for too long, but everyone loves her and how nice she is." Wooyoung explains to Eunhee now, making Jongho behind him scoof. "And this! Is the man that can break an apple with his hands! Come on grumpy bear, show the kids." Wooyoung tosses Jongho an apple now, making the man glare at him, but can't resist the excited eyes of the children, showing them how he breaks an apple with only his hands, making their mouths open wide in awe, as he places each half on their plate now.

"Where are you, by the way, going to sleep when the kids sleep in your bed?" Yeosang leans against a table now as he finally gets to eat his own meal. You didn't even think about this, pondering over his question for a second before shrugging your shoulders. "I'll probably sleep on a chair in the room or maybe with all of your guys downstairs?" You mumbled to yourself now. "Over my dead body will you sleep down there with all these men. You'll take my bed till we drop the kids off, I'm used to napping on my chair." Hongjoong appears behind you now, making you a bit startled. He wanted you to sleep in his bed? Along with him staying in the room? "Oh, I can't accept that! I wouldn't want to take space from you!" Shaking your head in denial of his offer now, he raised his eyebrow. "That wasn't a request or offer, that was an order." He explains to you now, making all movement stop and your cheeks turn a soft hue of pink. "Besides, Joongie barely gets any sleep, a little workaholic, you see~" Seonghwa buts in, running away after dropping off his empty plate before Hongjoong could hit him.

So it was decided you would be staying in Hongjoongs quarters for now while the kids were on board sleeping on his bed, while he would either sleep on his chair or the small couch in the room. "Seriously I could also take the couch.." Pulling the blanket over your legs, you look over to the man at his desk, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose now, looking over to you from his book. "Seonghwa already told you, I barely sleep overall, so why should I let you take the couch and end up with back pain when the bed is fully free." He shrugs his shoulders as he goes back to reading; he had a point, of course; you still felt rather bad to take up his bed, but apparently, discussing it wasn't going to happen, so you simply turned around and laid your head down on the pillow. It smelled like him; Hongjoong always had this fresh smell of lemons and mint, yet something spicy, too, along with a tinge of a iron smell. The smell was soothing, so you quickly fell asleep in his bed.

The first night was calm, you woke up to an empty room, hearing Hongjoong bark out orders to his crew as you get ready, peeking in to see the children still asleep, making your way over to Yunho for your morning training. Since you weren't able to train yesterday due to the kids, Yunho decided to do a double lesson this morning, making sure you got all the training Hongjoong asigned him to do with you. It was a calm morning; the kids soon woke up; Seonghwa helped them wash up and then gave them some breakfast while they watched you and Yunho train in awe.

"Did you two sleep well?" Approaching the siblings now after you handed the sword you were using to Yunho, sitting down beside the girl now. "Pretty well, the bed was really comfortable! Thank you for letting us sleep there!" Eunhee was so polite in her young years already making her remind you of yourself, smiling softly at her as you softly pat her hair. "Of course, we want you to feel comfortable on the way back home." Looking up now as San approaches you three, taking a seat beside Heejun, you had no idea but it seemed like San was drawn to them, obviously having a soft spot for the kids. "You'll soon be home again with your parents, it will probably only take a few more days." Sans's voice was soft when he spoke to them; it was adorable, honestly.

So the days went on, you and San spent most of the time with the kids, cheering them up when they missed their parents, while at night, you tried to get enough sleep, despite knowing Hongjoong was in the same room.

So here he was, sitting at his desk, the last night before you guys would reach Horizon to bring the kids back and go back on to track down those thief's. Whimpering caught his ear as he looked up now, his eyes moving over to your shaking form; you were probably having another nightmare. He often heard you at night, the soft whimpers and cries in your sleep, a name he assumed of your brother tumbling from your lips. Standing up with a sigh, he slowly approaches your bed, taking a seat beside you as his eyes scan your scrunched-up face. Tears were slowly running down your cheeks, lip tugged in by your teeth, making Hongjoong cringe; he swore he could see a drop of blood from the way you were biting down. Screw him. If anyone came in, no, he would kill them. Pushing off his boots, he softly laid down beside you, his arm coming around your waist as he started to softly whisper to you. "It's fine, you'll be okay.." It reminded him of San when he first joined, Wooyoung often told him of the night terrors San had. Running his thump over your scrunched-up forehead and nose now, watching your face slowly relax as his thump traces down to rub away the tears. "I told you, tears don't suit your pretty face.." A low sigh escapes the captain's lips, and his fingers softly tug on your lower lip now, making your teeth release it and a soft whimper escapes your lips. "Finally.." Watching you peacefully now, his eyes were suddenly feeling way too heavy, resting his head beside yours now as his eyes close, his arm around your waist drawing you closer to him.

Soft knocks wake you up from your sleep, noticing something heavy on your waist as you look behind you to see Hongjoong's peacefully sleeping face. At first, you wanted to scream, push him away, but then you remembered Seonghwas's words, carefully pushing his arm away to not wake him up; as you scoot off the bed and exit the room, one last glance at the sleeping captain. "Morning, Hongjoong isn't here?" Seonghwa looks confused at you, as you were the one to exit the room and not his captain. "He's asleep; let's not wake him up; you said he doesn't sleep well often." Moving past him, you notice that you were finally docked at Horizon. The island was lively, a rather sunny and warm one, with colorful flowers growing everywhere, making you watch in awe. "Different from your kingdom mh?" Seonghwa asks you, nodding at his question, noticing now how some of the members had already gone into the town to collect some things. San was sitting to the side, getting the kids presentable; most of their injuries were by now gone and treated, thanks to Yeosang. "Let's get those kids home." Hongjoong finally joins you, stretching his arms and yawning, his coat on now. "Seonghwa you take the kids, let's go." Following the order, Seonghwa takes the kids as they wave goodbye to San; just as you are about to join Hongjoong and Seonghwa, your captain stops you. "Did you forget who you are? Where you're from and who is searching for you? You can't join, stay here with San." Watching them leave with a pout now, San comes to stand beside you. "Don't be sad; he still leaves me here too, when they have to talk to higher-ups." Looking confused at him for a second now, he just shrugs his shoulders as he goes over to help Wooyoung carry some things he and Yeosang bought on board.

It took roughly an hour till Hongjoong and Seonghwa came back, a little bag in their hands. "We'll be going as soon as everyone is back; they were rather thankful and rewarded us nicely for bringing their children back," Hongjoong explains to the crew now before moving to his room.

The next stop would be an island where a rather famous crew often resided, the crew that stole something from Hongjoong he badly wanted to have back.

[tornoleander]

Wow, you're the beta reader for bbnb? I didn't know that. (So you can confirm that Hat is infact not dead because I haven't seen any activity from them in a while and my brain always jumps to worst case scenarios)

Anyway, definitely didn't forget to respond for like a week, but here are some of my theories/scenarios:

-I still think Cole's the one who'll remember bits and pieces because A. He's a ghost B. Hat used he/him when talking about who will remember and C. It would be incredibly emotionaly impactful

-HOWEVER, I think Pixal could also remember some stuff. None of the emotional stuff but she did technically die when Nadakhan erased her. Besides, it could be fun to see her try to let Jay or Nya know she remembers while still stuck to Zane.

-also Zane's falcon died but he was never mentioned in this fic so 😔

-Jay DEFINITELY has c-ptsd. Like, 100%, I'm sure the nurse/psychologist whose name I forgor would agree with me

-I'm pretty sure Wu just died by some falling island or something like that. Or he could've died by the storm, that would be cool.

-I know he said that swearing is a sign of weak verbal skills but I feel like Jay would start swearing more for comfort. Like, Nadakhan hated it but never truly did anything horrible to him because of it :)

most of the scenarios in my head play out with the ninja being captured again

-for example, Jay using his internal electricity to shock someone when they all have vengestone

-or them getting tazed and Jay sending the current back like he did in the electric chair

-or they're all traped and saying shit like "there's no other option" or something and Jay replying with "suicide's still an option" like that's a normal thing to say which obviously worries the others

And then there's the non captured scenarios

-something something Jay falling into autopilot after being told/asked to clean to ship and ends up also cleaning the hull "Why are you cleaning the bottom? We're in the air and you're not even tied to anything???" ".... trauma response?"

-or just straight up Jay having a panic attack out of seemingly sowhere (Cole said he wished he could eat cake again)

Anyway, those are the things I could think of right now, there's more but it's 3:39am and I'm tired :3

Hope it's not too long lol

Yep! As of ch 15. Me and hat have been chatting for a while and I bug them for feedback on Art accuracy so I help them with some writing corrections too!

I have been working on beta reading earlier chapters as well currently half way through 4. It is certainly an experience but now I yell my feelings into comment instead of just the void

*reaches through horrific horror to correct spelling mistake.

Yup Hat is alive! They were just fixated on something else for a while but they are back.

Ok now for scenarios

-Cole remembering bits……. I will refrain from giving my thoughts.

-Pixal and Zane’s falcon died pretty early so I do think they may remember up till then but It probably wouldn’t help understand much.

-I don’t think Wu died? But it’s not impossible.

-CPTSD?

I will ask hat about this one but seeing as bbnb events qualify as at least 4/6 of these causes of it AND ptsd is a tag I’m going to give it a yeah. Cause non complex ptsd is typically less prolonged.

-the swearing I do think he might do more but not necessarily for comfort

-For your head scenarios I am not sure all the ways hat is planned show how the events of the fic messed him up. But I know they’re a big fan of consequences for events…

From what I’m guessing he is going to be trying his best to hide everything and it’ll be somewhat canon compliant? But to be fair He is pretty consistently the most mentally unstable ninja. Take This with a big grain of salt I’m saving the analysis for my skybound video, but his behavior does generally line up well with SA surivers. the first time that Jays a prisoner post Skybound is when he says “You don’t argue with a man who’s navel is that close”

Which

Drives me insane by the way

Side tangent, I’ve been doing a lot of Skybound digging for my eventual video essay. And my current best theory on why this is a line has to do with SA of men being played for laughs.

Like older audiences are supposed to hear that and find it fucking funny. It’s unfortunately not uncommon in kids programming. My quest to best explain why S6 is so uncomfortable has been… enlightening. Terrified of approaching a controversial topic so I have been learning a-lot about approach and how to not be awful. But my fixation is being channeled led into the eventual Skybound video.

Hope I answered what you wanted to know and It wasn’t purely my Adhd rambling

[lawliet-ryuzaki-ryuga]

Chapter 7 ( L X Reader)

ANALYZER

WC: 1061

MASTERLIST

-Chapter 6

A/N: AHHHH IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER TO UPDATE!!!! I HAD SO MUCH GOING ON IN MY LIFE, TO HAVING WRITTERS BLOCK FOR THIS STORY TO HAVING TO WATCH DEATH NOTE A BILLION TIMES AGAIN TO GET NEW IDEAS! FORGIVE ME! i hope y'all enjoy and let me know what you guys think about this chapter!!!!

Though L had told me he was going to make more time in which we would be able to meet and just get to know one another, but given the situation that we are in, time isn’t in our favor. I’ve been watching the 24/7 surveillance footage we have on yotsoba meetings. I have grown tired of hearing plan after plan, after plan.  The Only real interaction or meet was when we would go eat. 

“Mmm i think i like the creme brulee cheesecake over your black forest cake.” I mumble as i take another bite of my slice of cake. L on the other hand is just taking chunks out of every slice in front of him. 

“ I just enjoy the taste of sugar.” L mumbles with his mouth full.

“ The point of trying cakes is to taste the flavors.”

“ I like sugar.”

“ you said that already.” 

“ Then let us discuss something you haven’t heard before Y/N/N. Tell me, how do you think Kira kills? given how much you’ve watched these recordings, i trust that you would be able to come up with a conclusion.`` L leads the conversation. 

“ Ryuzaki we said nothing about the case.”

“My apologies, I can’t help but think about anything else.” L rubs his pointer and thumb together as he rolls around the sugar sprinkles, before sucking the sugar off his fingers.

“ Fine, during the meetings theres a lot of numbers, days and ways on how one might be killed or die. There can be a few options all of which cannot be described without some type of supernatural power. One being they, Kira, speaks it into existence.. But that would require some type of God who can do such things. The Other thing is writing it down. Now this one more specifically is what caught my attention. During all the meetings, everyone had a notebook and a pen in front of them but none were used. Except for one, Higuchi . He fiddles with a pen often, and his pen is the only one that’s different from the rest. Indicating it's personal, and this item alone holds some time of significant use to him. Fiddling with the pen can express confidence or the depiction of some type of power.. But again, if he is writing it down, then how do the deaths occur? Unless something of supernatural power is in charge.” I explain before picking up a cheesecake slice and taking a small cut from the end of the slice.

“ Are you saying something of a shinigami? I have to say I’ll be disappointed, as they are nothing but some folklore.”  L sighs before staring up at me with his gray orbs. 

“ Folklore might sound crazy, but the human brain is not capable of creating or making up things, unless it was seen before. As a result I would not knock the idea, and based on how both Light and Misa reacted when they were confined was like they were no longer under some trance, dare I say even under a control of a spirit or being. Their body language in itself changed drastically, more so with light based on the footage. During his confinement I was able to see small lip movements that read “ Get rid of it.” It was moments after that when his body language changed from annoyance.. To confusion. Light’s body language is never abrupt, always calm..Light likes to articulate his movements and his responses to things. So that quick change in demeanor is what concerns me..”

“And you think that the new Kira is now Higuchi.” L states with a firmness to his voice.  

“ If I have to put my bet, I’d say it was him and Namikawa is the one who calls the shots before Higuchi does anything.”

“ I see.. But there were two kiras at one point.. Do you think that the second kira could be Namikawa Y/N/N?”

“I believe that at this very moment there’s only one Kira, which makes my theory of writing in something like a book stronger. When Light said “ get rid of it” what does “ it” refer to if not an object . As a result, if we are talking about let’s say some book, then at this very moment the second book hasn’t been possessed or hasn't possessed a person yet.. If Namikawa were the second kira, I don't believe he would be giving Higuchi some type of approval/ or direction of what to do, he would just do it himself.”

“ I agree, I just don’t see how believing in some type of power in an object or being is gonna help us solve the case. If the way of killing can be transmitted between person to person, whether it be through a book or by some type of spiritual possession, the catching of Kira would be impossible.” L argues back with reason as expected. 

“ Well it all depends, if we are looking for an object, then maybe the destruction of the object can end the killings. But if it is some type of possession of spirit that jumps from person to person. Then the goal is to look for the type of person the spirit is drawn to. But of course that would be a stretch and as you said, would probably be impossible to solve. But given that at one point Light was Kira, I find it hard to believe that someone who murdered so many people would have no recollection of any of it. Making it be that the person has control on if they can erase their memory and bring it back when needed. Which makes me think that Light could still be Kira without even knowing it anymore.."

“ Y/N/N, I have to say your reasoning on things goes beyond my reasoning. I only deal with the facts and the logical explanation of things. If it cannot be proven then it cannot be used as a fact to support evidence.  But you use evidence to create a fact, to make a logical explanation, which is interesting. But it might all be interesting to me, simply for the fact that I cannot believe in some type of supernatural power. But I will leave that to you.” L speaks in a monotone voice, not sounding too fond of my reasoning. 

“ I like the bigger picture, not the small details Ryuzaki.”

With a side glance L looks at me but returns to his cake, lifting his feet onto the chair and sitting in his weird position and finishes his cake, with not another word to me. His energy shifted from that of being open to that of being closed off. Was it my tone? No. It was that I’m challenging his logical way of thinking with a more elaborate explanation of what could be and not what is. 

[rheareadsss]

Mistake 6

It is now up to date with the ao3 now, weekly updates starting with the next chapter. Hope you guys enjoy and please leave me your thoughts!

•••••

“What’s going on?” Nesta asks Elain, it was the next day and Nesta had gone to the river house while Cassian and Azriel went to windhaven.

Elain turns to her no longer paying attention to the rose in front of her “I love Azriel and married life has been great but I feel like something is missing” Elain admits while trying to understand herself

“What do you mean?” Nesta asks as they were alone in the gardens

“Azriel has certain- preferences, fetishes that I cannot fulfill” Elain whispers and turns away from her

Nestas gasps

“I know that his job is a bit complex- complicated” Elain started

“Complicated? It’s a part of him Elain”

“I- just- I”

“Are you afraid of him?” Nesta turns Elain towards her again, her hands on her shoulders

“No I know what he does, I knew that before I made my choice and married him but-” Elain can’t find the words

“You expected him to leave that behind?” Nests asks confused as she can see the doubt in her sister

“I know he’s the shadow singer, the spymaster, I just knew one part of him, the sweet loving part of him” she admits “I- nobody prepared me to expect a bloodied male in our bedroom, a male who loves control in all sense of the word” she adds in a whisper

Nesta couldn’t believe what she was hearing “this is going deeper than his preferences”

“I try to oblige but I can’t- it’s weird to me”

Nesta shakes her head “have you talked to Feyre about this?”

“No of course not, I- just you” she admits and turns away from Nesta again, walking slowly and inspecting flowers

“I don’t know what to say, try to compromise a little” Nesta suggests as she follows her

“I am but I know he expects more, stuff I can’t give him” she whispers

“Shit”

“I know it’s bad” she finally stops and looks at her sister again

“Let’s not panic, this is your husband, he would understand if you can’t” Nesta says unsure “fulfill certain stuff?”

“I’m afraid he will look for that in another place” Elain admits

Nesta thinks about Gwyn “he wouldn’t” she says “talk to him”

“I will”

•

Emerie moved in with Gwyn, they were fixing things over at their place

“I’m gonna miss the house, she always obliged me” Emerie says

“Yeah the apartment doesn’t get you hot cocoa or cake in the middle of the night” Gwyn laughs

“I bet Nesta will love the privacy”

Gwyn nods then jokes “yeah that kitchen won’t be so sanitary next time we’re there”

“You can bet on that” Emerie says

“I’m sure training will be cancelled tomorrow”

Both girls laughed but it was true, the next day the training was cancelled which they took full advantage of and decorated the apartment. When sundown started they decided to go out to eat instead of staying in, they walked by the sidra before heading back to their apartment.

The following day they were transported by Balthazar, whom Emerie promised to take him food as she was cooking that afternoon.

They girls quickly jumped in to training, Gwyn was sparring with Balthazar when Azriel arrived to training.

He watched as Gwyn and Balthazar danced around in the mat, Balthazar would attack but Gwyn would always block him. Always using the techniques he showed her, she was fast with the daggers.

Gwyn went for a killing blow but Balthazar blocked her and fast she was with her back to his chest and a sword to her neck.

Azriel was tensed, fists clenching and unclenching while watching them. When Gwyn started laughing with Balthazar he couldn’t stand it, he instead walked to the other side of the training area.

He was serious during the rest of the training and harder on Gwyn than anybody else.

“Again Berdara” he shouted

Gwyn threw a dagger towards the target and ducked fast just like how he teached her in a smooth maneuver.

“Again” he shouted

Sweat clung to Gwyn but she did it again

“Again”

Gwyn was annoyed by that point and went straight to him “are you annoyed with me?” She asks “you and I both know I did it perfectly”

“You can always improve” he says harshly

Gwyn can see the stormy rage in his eyes, he was mad at her for whatever reason.

“I’m done” she says leaving towards the house, leaving him to his tantrum.

“Berdara!” He shouted

“Bye Shadowsinger” she waves not turning back to him

“Berdara!” He took a step to follow her but stopped when he noticed he had everyone’s attention.

Nesta and Cassian just watched and didn’t say anything, Azriel left after that without a word.

•

That night Gwyn felt the pain double, her chest was a roaring fire of pain.

She felt hollowed, like she was empty and she was struggling to sleep, she cried while clinging to her pillow.

She heard a knock on her door but couldn’t talk, she couldn’t get words out. The pain was unbearable and the knocks grew desperate.

“Gwyn open!” She heard Emerie in the distance

She couldn’t do anything, it was like she was watching herself from afar and didn’t have control of herself.

The knocks grew desperate and she could hear loud cries, then it turned to screaming.

She heard a loud bang then she felt like she was being lifted.

“Take her to Rhys” she heard in the distance

•

Gwyn woke up with a bad head ache and chest pain, she opened her eyes and noticed she wasn’t in her apartment.

She took in her surroundings and she was in a beige room, a window was opened and she could see a river.

“You’re finally awake”

“What happened?”

“I think you are feeling the bond more now, you went into a pain trance” Rhys explained

Gwyn closed her eyes “they were getting bad but I never thought they would double” she admits

“Emerie was scared, she called Balthazar whom he brought you over to Madjas then I had your transfer here” he admits “so we could take care of you”

“Poor Emerie, she must have been scared”

“She was, she’s doing better now but still worries since you didn’t wake the next day or the day after” Rhys adds

Gwyn’s eyes widen “how long have I been out?”

“3 days today” he admits

Rhys could see the fear brewing in her eyes “don’t be scared, this happens when a bond isn’t being reciprocated, usually when it’s being rejected, I think it might have to do with you being around him and his partner”

“I- I can’t be like this anymore” Gwyn whispers

Rhys hands her a vial “madja made this, it’s supposed to help with suppressing the bond in a way”

Gwyn takes it immediately “we both know this isn’t a permanent solution”

“What are you thinking?”

“If this persists I want you to help me break it” Gwyn whispers

Rhys shook his head “I can’t help you there”

“Rhys, you have to” she sounded defeated

“I don’t know how to” he admits “and it’s impossible to break a mating bond”

“Maybe putting distance like Lucien may work?” She asks hopeful

“He’s doing better than you yes, maybe it’s because he’s in the mortal lands”

“I want to leave-“

“Gwyn” Rhys says now sitting next to her in the bed “ I don’t know how to but I will look into, I can’t help but maybe Helion can or knows a of better suppressant that the one Madja can give you”

Gwyn nods “thank you”

Rhys wrapped his arms around her “you don’t have to thank me Gwyn”

•

‘Our Valkyrie finally woke up’ his shadows informed him

Azriel had been in the river house when his shadows alerted him that she was being taken to Madjas.

Azriel left the house without telling anyone, he got there once she was barely getting there.

“What happened?” He questioned Emerie

“I don’t know, she keeps crying and screaming, I had to call Bal”

“Where is she?”

“Madja is tending to her now”

Azriel kept pacing back and forth in a very calm way that scared Emerie, then a few minutes later Rhys, Cassian, Feyre and Nesta got there.

Emerie explained to them what happened and now they were just waiting.

Madja went out to talk to them after 15 minutes “she went in to a trance, I was just able to stabilize her” she said towards Rhys

“Is she awake? Can we see her?” Nesta asks

“She won’t wake until tomorrow most likely but you may see her” Madja then turned to Rhys “can we talk?”

Rhys nods and walks with Madja to her officer while Nesta and Emerie go to see Gwyn.

One of Azriels shadows goes after Rhys.

“It’s an effect of a rejecting bond” Madja says “it’s causing her great pain, it will only double, she needs to accept the bond” she adds

“It’s complicated, her mate has recently married to another female, his side of the bond for Gwyn hasn’t snapped” Rhys explains

“That’s what’s casing the trance, she’s being exposed to her married mate”

“Can she reject the bond while his side hasn’t snapped?” Rhys asks

“She can’t, she can sever the bond, suppress it but if his side hasn’t snapped it can’t be rejected” Madja explains

“Severing it will lessen the effects on her but once the bond snaps on his part, her side of the bond can trigger into re-snapping, she can reject the bond then for good” she adds

“Rejecting the bond, will it trigger anything for any of them?” Rhys asks

“It can go well and be rejected fine or the one being rejected can go into madness” Madja answers

“If she severs the bond without his side snapping, will it cause him danger?”

“No because technically there’s not bond on his part” she answers truthfully.

Azriel knew then that Rhys was going to get Gwyn to sever the bond and he couldn’t blame him. He wanted the best for Gwyn too, maybe severing the bond would get him back his friendship with her.

[thewardenisonthecase]

14 Days of Circle Mages: Upbringing/Arrival/Phylactery

Read on AO3

This is my contribution to the @14dayscirclemages following the life of my Rook, Dawn Thorne, long before the Veilguard.

Chapter Summary: A little look into Dawn's last day with her family and her arrival at the Gallows.

A/N: Tw for child abuse (mainly, a 6 year old gets slapped in the face)

9:24 Dragon - The Anderfels

The Thorne family had always been a very religious family. Every night, before tucking her into bed, Dawn’s mother would sing to her parts of the Chant of Light. By age three, her favorite story to hear was of how Andraste pushed back against the evil Tevinter mages. 

Magic is to serve man, not rule over him, her parents would say. This is why we have the circles, to keep mages in check and make sure they can never hurt anyone. 

Apostates are to be feared, her brother would tell her. They are maleficarum. They cohort with demons and use blood magic. Magic is a powerful and dangerous thing, and no mage is ever safe from corruption. 

There had never been a mage in the Thorne family because they were very faithful, Dawn’s mother assured. As long as they continued to believe in Him, magic would never harm them. 

.

Dawn’s last day with her family had fallen on her birthday. 

The Thorne family followed its usual traditions. Both of her parents woke her up, kissing her face and wishing her a good day. Her mother let her eat anything she wanted and in the evening, while her father and brother worked, Dawn’s mother combed her hair, a song on her lips. 

The night is long

And the path is dark

Look to the sky

For one day soon

The dawn will come

She giggled. “That’s my name!” “Yes, it is.” Her mother kissed the top of her head. “My little Dawn. I named you after the hymn.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes.” Her mother began braiding her hair as she continued. “You’re the light of my life, brought into existence by the Maker. I had to give you a fitting name.” 

Dawn hadn’t understood what her mother meant but she didn’t question it. Her mother tied a blue ribbon at the end of each braid and turned her around, giving her a kiss on the forehead. 

Her mother stood up from her chair, and walked to the drawer, retrieving a small wooden box. There was a sort of key mechanism on it, which she turned around three times before handing it to Dawn, telling her to open it. 

Once she did, the box opened, and an image of Andraste spun around and the sound of the music that her mother sang played from it. 

“My mother gave me this when I was very young, Dawn. I want you to have it.” 

The little girl looked at her, green eyes wide and bright. 

“Dawn, what do we say when someone is nice to us?” 

“Thank you, mama!” 

“Goog girl.” She kissed her forehead. “Your father and brother must be done now, go call them for dinner, its time for us to eat.” 

She nodded and excitedly ran outside, clutching the music 

“Papa!” She shouted as she saw her father. He was a big man, tall and imposing, but once he saw her, his face lit up as he picked her up and kissed her cheek. 

“Ah, my Dawn, you look so pretty.” He said as he held her and she smiled. 

“Look at what mama gave me!” She showed him the music box. 

Her father put her on his shoulders and she handed the box to her brother. He examined it for a second before giving it back to her. 

The three of them walked back inside the house, and soon, they were all set at the table. Before they could eat, her mother began to pray.

We thank the Maker for the food we have today, and for the life we were given. Most importantly, we thank Him for giving us Dawn. 

There was a cake on the table, the candles on top of it unlit. Her parents struggled to find a way to light them. 

As Dawn looked at the candles, she began to feel a kindling in her fingers. Perhaps if she could just…

With a wave of her hand, she lit the candles, giggling to herself. Her brother stood up from his chair and looked at her horrified, as her parents turned around confused.

“Witch!” Her brother pointed at her. 

Dawn began to cry, not liking her brother’s tone, as her mother kneeled in front of her grabbing her shoulders. “Dawn, what did you do?”

“I only wanted to help you.” She sniffed. 

“She created the fire. She’s a mage.” Her brother told them. Her parents shared a look, before her mother lifted her up. “Let’s go to bed.” 

The next day, the templars had shown up in her door, and Dawn was only allowed to bring the music box with her. 

.

9:24 Dragon - ???

Dawn did not know where they were headed. She tried asking the templars on board but they either ignored her. Some even looked at her with fear. 

There were others like her aboard the ship, mages. Some were much older than her, while others seemed to be her age. Everyone looked terrified to be there. 

Inside her small cabin, she’d hold on tight to the music box, replaying it for hours on end. It was her only source of comfort. Why did no one explain to her what was happening? 

Dawn wanted to go back home. She had cried to the templars and they ignored her. She’d have nightmares, seeing her brother’s face. Where once her father would hold her tight and comfort her, now she’d be awakened by angry men with angry faces as they told her to shut it. 

When they finally arrived at their destination, the young girl was greeted with the sight of scary, golden status of hungry men covering their faces. 

She did not want to leave the boat but the templar gave her no choice. They all exited the boat and there were more statues around them. Dawn and the other mages were brought inside the building, where a tall, blond woman, with cold blue eyes, stood in the center, a greatsword in hand. 

“I am Knight-Commander Meredith and this is the Kirkwall Cirle of Magi - the Gallows. It’s where you’ll stay and learn to control your magic.” 

Dawn swallowed hard as the woman began to list all the things that they could and could not do - their clothes had to be circle appropriate, they couldn’t leave whenever they wanted, they were to stay in their rooms unless they were in class, they were not to cast spells outside of class, they weren’t allowed to speak with outsiders. 

All in the name of them being deemed too dangerous. She held onto the music box even stronger than before. 

Once the knight-commander was done, they were made to stand in line and wait in front of a room. One by one, they were called in, until it was Dawn’s turn. There, two other templars stood. Next to them there was a wooden table with several glass vials. 

They motioned for her to step forwards and she did.

“Your hand.” One of them asked.

“What for?”

“It's for your phylactery.” He answered and Dawn frowned, tilting her head in confusion. 

With a huff, the other one explained. “Their vials, filled with your blood. If you, or any other mage, tries to escape, this will ensure we’ll be able to track you down and bring you back to the circle.”

“Blood?” Dawn’s eyes widened. Her mother always told her stories of wicked maleficars and their twisted use of blood to power their spells. “But…if you’re using blood…isn’t that blood magi-”

Before she could finish her sentence, one of the templars backhanded. “How dare you insinuate such a thing?!” 

“But-”

“Silence! You will do as you are told.”

Dawn lowered her head, as a tear ran down her burning cheek. Roughly, they grabbed her hand, slicing her palm open and squeezing the blood into a vial. Quickly, they wrapped a bandage around it and kicked her out of the room, where she was eventually reassigned to a dorm. 

The other mages around her spoke, but Dawn just laid on one of the beds, holding on tight to the music box. That night, before she fell asleep, she silently prayed to Andraste for answers: what had she done that had been so evil and vile to be cursed like this? And when would her parents rescue her?

For the first time in her short life, Dawn felt like no one had listened to her prayers. 

.

Thanks for reading! If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging it and leaving a comment, they're extremely appreciated!

[genshinluvr]

Tragic Outcomes 6

Pairings: Xiao x fem!reader x Zhongli

Summary: It's Xiao's birthday! You and Zhongli plan on making almond tofu to celebrate Xiao's birthday. While you and Zhongli are waiting for Xiao to return, Xiao seems to be a little bit occupied with something on his end that's keeping him out late.

Note: Omg, an update for Tragic Outcomes after how long? I made this angst special for Xiao's (belated) birthday because why not? This chapter is very Zhongli-focused because ✨ Zhongli ✨ and I am biased /j I'm working on updating the individual character fics that haven't been updated in a while! :> I will be updating Ayato's fic next week! Ayato's fic is coming to an end! Not sure if this has painful angst like the first part, but you guys be the judge, I guess! Anyway, I don’t post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Mostly fluff between Zhongli and the reader. Would this chapter be considered angst? Or maybe has light angst? Reader has to make a decision in the end.

Word Count: 7.5k

Tragic Outcomes chapters: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6]

You’re used to waking up alone in the morning. Xiao is usually awake before you are and would leave Wangshu Inn before dawn. But now, you wake up next to Zhongli. Sometimes you wish Xiao could wake up at the same time as you and Zhongli, but knowing his commitment to his duties, you don’t push him about it. It’s only seven in the morning, and you’re standing in the kitchen steeping tea for you and Zhongli. 

Zhongli walks up from behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, and rests his chin on your head. You let out a content sigh and relax in his arms, closing your eyes and breathing in his scent. Zhongli’s chest rumbles when he chuckles. Zhongli leans down and presses his lips against your temple, rocking the two of you side to side.

“How’d you sleep last night, dearest?” Zhongli murmurs into your ears.

You turn your head to the side and press your lips against his cheeks. “I slept well. Although, I would much rather be in bed instead,” you mutter, pouting at him playfully.

“That sounds like a nice day, but if my memory is correct, today is a special day for a certain Adeptus,” Zhongli says, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

You freeze in Zhongli’s arms and rest your head on Zhongli’s shoulders. Today is a special day for a certain Adeptus, according to Zhongli. Your memory has gotten slightly worse ever since the… incident a while back. You waddle over to the calendar with Zhongli latching to your back. You scan your eyes on the calendar and see a specific date circled with small doodles of a birthday cake and birthday hat on the particular date. 

You turn to Zhongli, cupping his face in your hands. “It’s Xiao’s birthday!” You exclaim.

“Yes, that is correct,” Zhongli says, his cheek squished in your hands. “Do you have anything planned in mind for his birthday?” Zhongli asks.

The timer chimes, startling you. You release Zhongli’s face from your hands and walk over to the tea and pull the teabags out from the teacups, tossing them into the trash. Zhongli leans against the counter, watching you pour a small amount of sugar into your and his tea. 

Xiao isn’t the type to be interested in a huge birthday celebration. Maybe a small gathering is something he would be interested in. Still, other than that, it’s usually just you and him that celebrate his birthday.  You slide the teacup over in Zhongli’s direction and pucker your lips, contemplating how you’ll celebrate Xiao’s birthday this year.

“Well, I usually make almond tofu for Xiao to eat on his birthday. It’s usually just the two of us celebrating his birthday rather than having a big celebration,” you reply, lightly blowing on the tea and taking small sips.

Zhongli nods, sipping his tea. “Do you, perhaps, need any assistance with preparing?” Zhongli asks, his cheeks slowly turning pink.

“I don’t know! Don’t you have work today, Mister Consultant?” You ask, poking the former Geo Archon’s chest while hiding your smile behind your teacup.

Zhongli clears his throat, puts his teacup back on the saucer, and pulls you toward him. You nestle up against Zhongli and look at him through your lashes. Zhongli places his index finger under your chin and tilts your head up. Zhongli slowly leans down to kiss you, but the door to the Inn’s room slams open, startling you and Zhongli.

Childe walks through the entrance with a huge smile on his face. You and Zhongli step away from each other. You put your teacup down while Zhongli lifts his teacup to his lips and takes deep gulps of the tea. It’s too early to deal with Childe and his shenanigans, but as his friend, you and Zhongli learned to deal with the ginger-haired Harbinger. 

“So! How did that little meeting with the Adeptis go? Meet anyone cool or learn anything new?” Childe asks, hopping up on the island and sitting on it, swinging his legs back and forth.

You and Zhongli trade look with each other. You make a so-so gesture.

“Kind of? It’s more information than what I knew before, but it’s not enough. If that makes sense,” you said.

Childe’s face pinches up, and he shakes his head. “I’m going to be honest with you, [Y/N]. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh. “The information given to me is helpful, but I wanted to know more about my parents and the things that happened before I was sealed away and before they died,” you said, stroking your chin.

“Like in detail? If so, I’m pretty sure Mister Zhongli over there have some answers since he has much knowledge of Liyue’s history and of the Adeptis,” Childe says, gesturing in Zhongli’s direction.

You stare at Childe blankly and look at Zhongli from the corner of your eyes. Is Childe hinting that he knows that Zhongli is the (former) Geo Archon, or is he just mentioning that Zhongli knows a lot of things? You rub your temples and shake your head.

“Listen, Childe, as much as I would love to talk about what I learned about my deceased parents, I have things to do,” you said, pulling the curtains of the kitchen open and letting the light pour into the room.

Childe perks up and looks at you with interest and curiosity, hopping off the counter and walking over to where you stand. Zhongli continues to sip his tea while eyeing Childe closely. You open the cupboards and pull out a plate. You’re planning on making almond tofu for Xiao to eat. Although, you’re not entirely sure if you have enough ingredients to make a lot of almond tofu. You walk over to the pantry, pulling out a bag of almonds. You shake the bag and weigh them in your hands. 

Childe peeks his head into the pantry. “What are you doing in there?” Childe asks, leaning against the door frame.

“We’re going to need to buy more almonds,” you murmur.

You walk out of the pantry, and place the almonds on the counter, then walk to the refrigerator. You open the fridge and stick your head inside, searching high and low for milk. You grab the small bottle of milk and sigh, grumbling about having to spend more Mora on Xiao’s birthday to make him his favorite food for his birthday. 

“I’m debating whether I should make almond tofu with what I have and go to the market to buy some more ingredients after. Or go to the market now and make almond tofu once I have more ingredients,” you mutter, putting the milk on the counter beside the almonds.

“It’s all up to you, dearest. Do you think Xiao would eat that much almond tofu? I think you have enough for one plate,” Zhongli says, untying the rubber band.

Childe grabs the milk bottle and holds it up, then glances over at the bag of almonds in Zhongli’s hands while squinting his eyes.

You raise your eyebrows at Childe. “What are you thinking?” You ask, propping your hands on your hips.

“You don’t have enough milk for one plate of almond tofu. It’s barely enough. You and Mister Zhongli can stay here while I go out and get some milk for you two.” Childe offers, putting the milk back down on the counter.

Childe? Getting milk for you to make Xiao almond tofu? Childe turns to leave, but you quickly grab onto his wrist, and you shake your head. Childe and Zhongli look at you, surprised. Their eyebrows are either raised or furrowing with confusion. You release Childe’s wrist from your grasp and clear your throat.

“Thank you for the offer, Childe, but I got this! I’ll go out into Liyue Harbor and buy some milk and maybe some extra almonds!” You say.

Childe puckers his lips. “Hey, come on! I offered to buy you milk to make your little Adpetus boyfriend some birthday almond tofu, but you declined that offer?” Childe asks.

The way Childe looks at you reminds you of a kicked puppy. He’s batting his eyelashes at you while giving you puppy dog eyes, his bottom lip jutting out. Zhongli rolls his eyes at Childe, crossing his arms over his chest. You snort and flick Childe’s nose, making him flinch and scowl at you while rubbing his nose.

You sigh and look over at the almonds and milk on the counter. “As much as I appreciate your offer and your volunteering, how do I know if you won’t poison the milk?” You ask.

Childe lets out an offended gasp, pressing his right hand against his chest. “How dare you assume I would do such a thing! For your information, I would never poison an Adeptus!” Childe says, sticking his nose in the air with a ‘hmph!’

You glare at Childe and cross your arms over your chest. You know Childe and his distaste toward your Adeptus boyfriend. There’s a possible chance Childe will try to poison Xiao, but knowing Childe, he’s more calculated about it and will take his time with slowly killing someone he doesn’t like.

“How about this! How about you keep Zhongli and me company while we go to the market to buy more milk and almonds?” You suggest. 

You walk back to the kitchen counter to put the milk back in the refrigerator and the almonds back into the pantry. Childe makes a disgruntled noise and flops on the couch in the living room, ignoring the amused look Zhongli has on his face. 

“Well? What’s your answer?” You ask, walking to the living room with Zhongli by your side.

Childe grumbles and props himself up on the couch, staring at you and Zhongli blankly. The two of you stare at Childe in return, waiting for his answer. Childe sighs loudly, dragging it out before flopping back on the couch; his long legs dangling off the edge of the sofa.

Childe runs his fingers through his hair. “I would love to join you two, but I’m going to be a third wheel!” Childe says dramatically.

“You’re not going to be a third wheel, Childe.” You deadpan.

“You two only want me to tag along because I’ll be your human wallet and pay for the groceries!” Childe says, getting off the couch and pointing an accusing finger at you and Zhongli.

You groan loudly and look over at the clock on the wall to check the time. It’s nearing eight in the morning, and you need to head down to Liyue Harbor and buy milk and almonds (and maybe other groceries) before many people start to show up. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale sharply through your nostrils. You’re trying your hardest not to stomp over to where Childe is sitting just to smack Childe upside of his head for making things complicated for you. 

“You know what, Childe? You don’t have to join Zhongli and me. It’ll be just the two of us while you do your Fatui Harbinger duties,” you say, walking over to the door and grabbing your satchel.

“What?!” Childe asks, looking at you with disbelief.

You nod without looking at Childe, putting your shoes on. “You heard me! Since you decide to be a little shithead and make things complicated for Zhongli and me, you might as well tend to your Harbinger duties while Zhongli and I are shopping,” you say, gesturing for Zhongli to come over.

Zhongli walks past Childe, ignoring the dramatic pout on Childe’s face. You snort and shake your head, reaching your hand out toward Zhongli. Zhongli grabs your hand and pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist. Childe scrunches his nose at the sight of you and Zhongli cozying up to each other.

Childe clears his throat. “You know what? I will do that! You two have fun at the market!” Childe says, waving his hands around.

Childe is the first person to walk out the door while you and Zhongli follow after. You lock the door behind you, and the two of you set off to Liyue Harbor. At Liyue Harbor, there weren’t as many people as you expected, which is a huge relief. But there’s still a decent amount of people roaming around Liyue Harbor, making it a little bit complicated to get to the shops you want to visit for the key ingredients you need for almond tofu.

Zhongli keeps his hands on your hips while the two of you navigate through people, searching for a specific shop. You feel warmth blooming in your chest; the feeling of Zhongli’s hands on your hips and the lack of gap between your and his body makes you feel some type of way. 

“We’re here,” Zhongli says, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You and Zhongli stand in front of the vendor, searching for the almond. While you’re searching for the bags of almonds, Zhongli quietly converses with the food vendor before you two. You hear Zhongli chuckle, causing you to look up. The two of you make eye contact for a brief second. Zhongli smiles at you and looks at the vendor, nodding his head while talking about his favorite Liyue cuisine before adding in how both of you are searching for almonds and milk to cook almond tofu for Xiao’s birthday.

The vendor’s eyes light up. “Oh! Are you two making almond tofu for your son’s birthday?” The vendor asks, smiling at you and Zhongli.

Zhongli’s eyes widen slightly. “Son?” Zhongli asks.

The vendor nods his head. “Yes! You say his name is Xiao, right?” The vendor asks, tilting his head to the side.

You clear your throat and look away shyly, heat rushing to your face after hearing the vendor’s comment. You’re unsure how to answer the vendor’s question. Would the vendor judge you for dating both Zhongli and Xiao? You’ve chatted with the vendor before, but he doesn’t know about your relationship with Xiao. 

Since you’re here with Zhongli, he must’ve assumed that Xiao is your and Zhongli’s son. You don’t know how he interpreted that when there’s no wedding ring on your and Zhongli’s left ring fingers.

“Mister Dongsheng, you have mistaken! Xiao isn’t my and Zhongli’s son!” You say, frantically searching for the almonds with your eyes. “Anyway! I would like to buy one hundred almonds and one hundred bottles of milk, please!”

Zhongli’s eyes widen. “One hundred?” Zhongli murmurs.

“One hundred milk and almonds?” Dongsheng, the owner of Second Life, asks. 

Zhongli leans down and whispers into your ears, “Dearest, I thought we were getting the number of almonds and milk needed for the almond tofu you’ll be making.

You shrug your shoulders with a sigh. “I might as well buy them all just in case I want to cook something with the milk and almonds!” You reply.

“But do you need that much milk? They expire fast,” Zhongli says, stroking his chin.

You pause and pucker your lips, debating with yourself if you should buy one hundred bottles of milk or not. Zhongli’s not wrong, considering you can fit a few milk bottles in the fridge. Why did you think about buying one hundred anyway other than to divert the conversation elsewhere with the owner of Second Life?

“Right! Then I’ll take ten bottles of milk then! While I will use them for the almond tofu, I’ll use the extras for something else,” you said. 

Dongsheng looks at you and hesitates for a moment. “And what about the almonds? Are you going to buy one hundred bags of almonds as well, or the same amount as the milk?” He asks.

You sigh in defeat. “The same amount as the milk bottles,” you answer.

Dongsheng smiles at you and Zhongli before getting you the almonds and milk bottles. Zhongli gives your hips a squeeze and reaches for the bags that contain the almonds and bottles of milk from Dongsheng. You reach into your satchel and pull out the bag of Mora, handing the total price of Mora to him.

You and Zhongli bid Dongsheng goodbye before making your way back to Wangshu Inn. You and Zhongli walk beside each other. The day has barely started, and you’re already feeling flustered because of one mistake by someone that isn’t you or Zhongli. Zhongli grabs your wrist, making you stop in your tracks. You turn and look at Zhongli curiously.

“Why don’t we relax for a little bit before returning to Wangshu Inn?” Zhongli suggests, pulling you over toward the concrete bench. “After all, it’s still early in the morning, and there’s no need to rush back to the Inn.”

“Hm… alright! We can rest for a bit before returning to Wangshu Inn!” You nod, smiling at the ex-Archon.

Zhongli places the bags of milk and almonds on the ground beside his feet while the two of you sit and look out toward the sea. Two birds land a few feet in front of you and Zhongli, bouncing around and standing beside each other. You and Zhongli watch the two finches interact with each other.

“They’re so round and cute,” you whisper.

After not hearing a response, or a sound, from Zhongli, you turn to face the dark-haired man, only to see him staring down at you. Your face turns warm, and you loop your arm around his, leaning against him while trying to cover your red face. Zhongli grabs you by the chin and tilts your head up. 

The two of you stare into each other’s eyes. Your gaze quickly falls to Zhongli’s lips before looking into his eyes. Zhongli smiles and leans down to kiss you. Before Zhongli’s lips could touch yours, you and Zhongli felt arms over your shoulders.

“It’s a beautiful day out at Liyue Harbor, isn’t it? It’s warm and sunny outside with a nice cool breeze accompanying it!” Childe exclaims, startling you and Zhongli.

You and Zhongli flinch and pull away from each other, looking away with a sigh. Zhongli gives Childe a fake smile and clears his throat.

“Childe! You have an interesting timing there,” Zhongli says, looking away from Childe.

Childe grins at Zhongli cheekily and nods, weaseling his way to sit between you and Zhongli. You and Zhongli grumble under your breath while scooting over to give Childe space to sit in between you two. What’s with Childe and being a cockblock? You and Zhongli don’t mind having Childe around— after all, he is the reason why you and Zhongli got together in the first place. But it’s just… you want some alone time with Zhongli. Sitting on the concrete bench, watching birds fly and hop around with each other before returning to Wangshu Inn to make almond tofu for Xiao’s birthday is something you want to do uninterrupted.

Childe sighs loudly and leans back on the bench. “I saw you two here and wanted to stop by and say hi before going to the Northland Bank!” Childe says nonchalantly, brushing his fringe away from his eyes.

You turn to look at Childe quizzically. “You left before we did. I thought you’d be at Northland Bank before Zhongli and I arrived at Second Life for the almonds and bottles of milk,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

Childe chuckles and shrugs. “I had to stop by somewhere to handle a business. You know, life as a Fatui Harbinger isn’t as easy as it seems. I have some Fatui trainees to train later today after completing some paperwork, so I won’t be able to stop by and celebrate the little twerp’s birthday with you and Mister Zhongli today,” Childe sighs dramatically. 

You scoff and elbow Childe in the gut before getting up from the bench and dusting your clothes. “I believe that’s enough relaxing for today. Zhongli and I have almond tofu to make, and you have Fatui duties to tend to!” You said, turning to look at the two men before you.

Zhongli and Childe get up from the bench. Zhongli reaches down and grabs the bags of almonds and milk from the ground, holding his arm out for you to take. You link your arm around Zhongli’s and give Childe a smile.

Childe pouts at you and extends his arms out. “What? You’re not going to give your brother figure a hug before leaving?” Childe asks, batting his eyelashes at you. 

You roll your eyes playfully and unlink your arms from Zhongli’s before walking over to the ginger-haired Harbinger. You wrap your arms around his waist and let out a strained grunt when Childe hugs you tightly, ruffling your hair with a shit-eating grin on his face. Childe releases you after ten seconds, watching you return to Zhongli’s side while fixing your disheveled hair.

You grab Zhongli’s wrist and begin tugging him toward the entrance of Liyue that leads to Wangshu Inn. “Bye, Childe! I’ll see you next time!” You say, patting his arm.

Zhongli and Childe nod to each other when they walk by each other. While you and Zhongli are walking to the entrance of Liyue Harbor, Childe stops in his tracks and watches the two of you get farther away. Childe lets out a sigh and shakes his head, propping his hands on his hips.

“When will [Y/N] just break up with that Adeptus twerp? He doesn’t deserve her,” Childe mutters, turning to walk to Northland Bank.

Back at Wangshu Inn, you and Zhongli stand in the kitchen beside each other, making almond tofu for the beloved Adeptus, who protects Liyue from evil. While making almond tofu, Zhongli tells a story of his and Xiao’s past. Now that you think about it, if you weren’t sealed in amber by your parents, you would’ve known them during that time. But you were sealed away, and you grew up without your birth parents— raised to be human instead of an Adeptus.

“Do you think this is enough? I don’t want us to make too many only for Xiao to not finish it all,” you mutter. You look over at the plate with many almond tofu stacked on top of each other.

Zhongli hums. “That would depend. Are we going to be eating them as well, or is it only for Xiao?” Zhongli asks, washing his hands under the tap water.

You can’t help but stare at Zhongli’s arms. Zhongli took his coat off before the both of you began making almond tofu for Xiao’s birthday. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, his gloves are off, and you can see the veins protruding from his arms. 

“[Y/N]?”

You snap out of your thoughts and blink at Zhongli owlishly with wide eyes. Zhongli looks at you curiously, his eyebrows raised, the corner of his lips curling up. You clear your throat and look away, rubbing the back of your neck.

“We can eat some of the almond tofu! I don’t think Xiao can eat all of this on his own, so we might as well have some! Of course, almond tofu won’t be the only thing we’ll be eating. Speaking of eating, we should make something for us to eat now. I’m starting to get hungry,” you say.

You turn around and walk to the pantry, searching for something to cook for you and Zhongli to eat while waiting for Xiao to return from his duties. You stand in the pantry, eyeing every ingredient while stroking your chin. Zhongli snakes his arms around your waist and presses his chest against your back, resting his chin on your head.

“You seem distracted a few minutes ago,” Zhongli murmurs.

You clear your throat for the umpteenth time. “I was, uh, thinking about food! After all, we did leave Wangshu Inn without having breakfast other than tea. I’m starting to feel famished,” you lie.

“What do you want to eat? Do you have anything in mind?” Zhongli asks, tilting his head over and peppering kisses on the side of your neck.

You pucker your lips, and your eyes land on the bamboo shoots. Your eyes light up, and you waddle to the bamboo shoots with Zhongli behind you. You grab the bamboo shoots and look up at Zhongli, lifting the bamboo shoots to Zhongli’s face. 

You poke him in the chest. “I would like to have your specialty!” You say, handing the bamboo shoots over to Zhongli. “It’s been a while since I’ve had bamboo shoot soup.”

Zhongli grabs the bamboo shoots from your grasp, and pecks your cheek. “If that’s what you desire, then I shall make them for you,” Zhongli says.

Zhongli walks out of the pantry with you following close behind. You watch Zhongli prepare the ingredients. Archons, Zhongli somehow manages to make cooking look attractive. It’s making you feel tingly on the inside. You shake your head and lightly slap your forehead. You walk over to where Zhongli stands and begin to help him prepare and cook the bamboo shoot soup. But before doing so, you walk to the almond tofu and put them in the refrigerator.

“What time do you think Xiao will return to Wangshu Inn? We wouldn’t want the almond tofu to sit in the refrigerator for a long time,” Zhongli murmurs, turning the stove on and placing the pot over the stove.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. Xiao doesn’t have a consistent time on when he’d return to Wangshu Inn after his duties. He usually returns whenever,” you say.

Zhongli pauses and stares at the pot with furrowed eyebrows. “Is that so? So there’s no specific time on when he gets home?” Zhongli murmurs.

You nod. “That’s correct! At first, it was a little bit…. Frustrating? That’s not the right word, but you know what I mean. It’s only frustrating because when I try to stay up until he gets home, it would be almost four in the morning, maybe five,” you reply.

“Will you be doing the same thing today for his birthday?” Zhongli asks, turning to look at you.

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue. It is Xiao’s birthday, and you usually stay up until he gets home from his duties. That was before the whole incident happened, and now you would go to bed before he gets home because, well, you have Zhongli with you now. 

“I’m going to try to stay up late, yes! But if he ends up coming home late, which I hope he doesn’t, then I’ll go to bed!” You say.

Zhongli stares at you before letting a long exhale through his nose, nodding. If you’re going to be staying up late to greet Xiao on his birthday and to celebrate his birthday, Zhongli might as well do the same. After all, Adeptis and Archons don’t need sleep, so staying up late shouldn’t be an issue for Zhongli. However, because you were raised by mortals, Zhongli’s unsure if you’ll be able to stay up past five in the morning.

The day ends up flying by before your and Zhongli’s eyes. Before you know it, you’re setting the table up and taking the almond tofu out from the refrigerator, placing them on the table. Zhongli suggested decorating the living area to surprise Xiao, and the two of you went out into the market to get decorations. 

“Do you think Xiao will like it?” You ask, turning to look at Zhongli.

Zhongli smiles and kisses the side of your head. “He’ll love it,” Zhongli murmurs, pulling you to his chest and snaking his arms around your waist.

Zhongli looks at the clock and sees it’s almost eight in the evening. You and Zhongli sit at the table, quietly conversing with each other while adjusting the table and almond tofu here and there while waiting for Xiao to show up.

While you and Zhongli are waiting for Xiao to make an appearance at Wangshu Inn, Xiao is sitting on the highest mountain in Liyue, looking at the view. Xiao finished his duty not too long ago, and now he’s having a breather. Today is his birthday, the day is coming to a close, and it’s time he heads home to you (and Zhongli).

A twig snaps behind Xiao, causing him to turn his head sharply in the direction where the sound came from. Xiao’s polearm materializes in his hands and prepares to lunge toward the direction of the twig snapping, but pauses when he sees Lumine standing there.

Xiao swallows a lump in his throat. “Lumine, what are you doing here?” He asks, staring at the blonde girl before him.

Lumine tucks her hair behind her ear and clears her throat softly. “I came here to wish you a happy birthday, Xiao.” Lumine smiles at the Adeptus and takes a small step toward him. 

“How did you know I was here?” Xiao demands, narrowing his eyes at Lumine.

Lumine looks away from Xiao and gazes up at the stars that hang above them. When Lumine didn’t answer him, Xiao let out a frustrated sigh and put his polearm away. Before Xiao could open his mouth to speak, rapid footsteps approached Xiao and Lumine, making the two look in the direction of where the footsteps were coming from.

Aether pants and puts his hands on both his knees, glaring at Lumine. “Lumine! I told you not to run off, and this is where I find you!?” Aether exclaims, propping his hands on his hips.

Lumine rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, Aether. You go on adventures with Dainsleif all the time, and yet you can barely catch up with me?” Lumine snickers, ignoring the glare Aether shoots in her direction. 

“I wanted to be alone,” Xiao states, crossing his arms over his chest.

Aether gives Xiao a sympathetic smile while Lumine pulls a container out of her bag. Xiao looks at Lumine curiously and holds his hands out when Lumine gestures for him to do so. Lumine places the container on Xiao’s hands and watches the Conquerer of Demons open the container.

“You made almond tofu for me,” Xiao murmurs.

Lumine smiles and nods. “I wanted to make your favorite dish for your birthday. I didn’t know if you had anything to eat today while you were out protecting Liyue,” Lumine says, twirling her hair around her index finger.

Xiao stares at Lumine, then looks at the container of almond tofu in his hands. Xiao nods and mutters a silent thank you to the blonde girl. 

“Is it okay if I hang out with you while you eat your almond tofu? I don’t want you to eat your almond tofu alone on the day of your birth,” Lumine says.

Aether stares at Lumine like she grew two more heads. Xiao sighs and nods, walking away from the twins and sitting at the edge of the mountain. Lumine sits beside Xiaom, keeping a decent size gap between them. Aether looks up at the night sky and mouths, “I’m sorry, [Y/N],” to himself before sitting beside Xiao.

Back at Wangshu Inn, you yawn and lean against Zhongli, rubbing your eyes. The almond tofu is getting warm the more time goes by. You can’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, hoping Xiao will show up so the three of you can celebrate his birthday. You lean on the table and close your eyes, yawning for the umpteenth time.

Zhongli sighs and rubs your back. “Dearest, if you’re tired, we can go to bed,” Zhongli murmurs.

You shake your head stubbornly. “I’m okay, Zhongli. I can stay up for a few more hours and wait for Xiao to come home,” you reply.

Time seemed to have gone by so fast because you recalled that it was only eight in the evening. Now when you look at the clock, you notice that it’s almost midnight. Once the clock strikes midnight, it will no longer be Xiao’s birthday. You know Xiao is busy protecting Liyue. Therefore, you’re not going to be upset if he ends up coming home past midnight. After all, he’s always busy with his duties.

“I’ll be right back. You two, don’t go anywhere! I think I dropped something on my way up here,” Aether says, getting up from the ground and dusting dirt off his pants.

Xiao and Lumine stand up.

“Do you want us to come with you? It’s dark out, and we don’t want you to get hurt,” Lumine says, gazing at her brother worriedly. 

Aether shakes his head. “Nah! It’s okay! Plus, I won’t be far or be gone for a long time,” Aether replies.

Lumine and Xiao watch Aether scurry off into the night. Xiao takes a deep breath and turns to look at the view before him and Lumine.

“Thank you for keeping me company on my birthday. Even though it wasn’t necessary, I appreciate it,” Xiao murmurs.

Lumine smiles bashfully and rubs her arm. “You’re welcome! Uh…. I was hesitant to come here because I didn’t want to disturb you. But thinking about you and celebrating your birthday alone motivated me to follow my plan,” Lumine says.

A small smile appears on Xiao’s face. “Thank you, I appreciate it, really.”

Lumine looks at Xiao with wide eyes, her cheeks turning bright red after seeing the tiny smile on his face. Lumine looks away shyly and spots a lone flower from a distance. Xiao follows Lumine’s line of sight and sees the Qingxin flower. Xiao walks over to the flower without saying a word, plucks it from the ground, and walks to Lumine. Lumine looks at Xiao with curiosity, tilting her head to the side. 

Xiao hands the flower to Lumine. “Having you around would make even Qingxin feel like a treat. The beauty of the Qingxin is nothing compared to yours,” Xiao murmurs.

Lumine looks at Xiao with wide eyes, her breath caught in her throat. She gulps and grabs the flower from Xiao’s hands, her eyes falling to Xiao’s lips. Xiao brushes a stray hair from Lumine’s face, tucking them behind her ears. Lumine’s heart is beating so fast and so loud that she wouldn’t be surprised if Xiao could hear it.

Lumine closes her eyes and leans toward Xiao, her lips grazing his. Before Lumine can press her lips against his, someone clears their throat loudly. Xiao turns away and looks at Aether, who lets out a loud ‘ahem’ after witnessing what happened. Lumine tenses up and glares at Aether, slowly backing away from Xiao.

Aether approaches the two with a strained smile. “I believe it’s getting late! You should head back to Wangshu Inn! I’m pretty sure there’s someone else that’s waiting for you. And by someone, I mean your girlfriend,” Aether says through clenched jaws. 

“He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to, Aether!” Lumine exclaims, glaring at Aether while gripping the Qingxin flower tightly. “Besides! He already celebrated his birthday with me— I mean us!” Lumine huffs.

Aether rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Xiao, you’re a dear friend of mine, but I…” Aether trails off, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’d do this to someone you claim to love. You either pick my sister, or you pick [Y/N]. You can’t have both at once, especially when my sister tried to kill your girlfriend,” Aether says.

Lumine stomps toward Aether and shoves him. “Why are you bringing this up now, huh? It’s Xiao’s birthday, and he shouldn’t be dealing with this right now!” Lumine says. “Plus, if he’s not allowed to have both me and [Y/N], then how come [Y/N] can have him and Zhongli!? Do you even hear yourself, Aether!? Why are you on her side and not mine!?” Lumine shrieks.

“It was his birthday, Lumine. It’s midnight now, and he should’ve been spending his birthday with his girlfriend too. She’s probably waiting for him back at Wangshu Inn right now!” Aether exclaims, throwing his hands in the air out of frustration. 

It’s past midnight, and you feel your eyelids grow heavier with each passing minute. Zhongli’s in the kitchen, brewing tea for you to drink. You lay your head on the table and close your eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. Zhongli walks into the dining room and places the cup of tea before you. 

“Dearest, you should go to sleep. It’s getting late, and I’m afraid you won’t be able to stay up any longer waiting for Xiao,” Zhongli says.

You sit up and stretch your arms in the air with a yawn. “It’s okay, Zhongli. I don’t want to miss out on celebrating Xiao’s birthday,” you say.

Zhongli exhales through his nostrils and pinches the bridge of his nose. “If you insist,” Zhongli murmurs, sitting beside you.

You rest your head on Zhongli’s shoulders and reach for the teacup. You hold the cup before your face and blow on the hot tea. It’s normal for you to not be able to stay up later than midnight. You want to stay up until Xiao gets home from his duties so you can at least tell him a happy birthday, well, belated birthday, since it’s past midnight now. You gulp down the tea and put the teacup back on the saucer, and wrap your arms around Zhongli’s waist.

“Did I make a mistake?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

Zhongli makes a confused noise and looks at you quizzically. “What do you mean?” Zhongli brushes your hair away from your face.

You stare at Zhongli, not saying a word. Your heart hurts, and even if you have Zhongli present with you at Wangshu Inn, being at the Inn while Xiao is out and about doing, who knows what makes your heart hurt. You can’t help but doubt your relationship with Xiao, asking yourself if it is still salvageable. 

You bite your lower lip and hug Zhongli tightly. “Let’s go to bed,” you whisper, tugging on his shirt.

Zhongli nods, getting up from the couch with you latching to his side. Zhongli wraps his arm over your shoulders and guides you to the bedroom. You and Zhongli collapse on the bed, you lying in his arms while he’s carding his fingers through your hair. 

You lean up and kiss his jaws, giving him a small smile before snuggling into the crook of his neck. Zhongli smiles and kisses your forehead, watching you slowly drift off to sleep. Zhongli closes his eyes and begins to fall asleep, wondering what’s keeping Xiao out for so long. Zhongli shakes his head, pulling the blanket up to his and your torso.

Zhongli doesn’t know how long he and you have been asleep. The sound coming from the living area roused him from his sleep. Zhongli slowly gets up from bed, kissing your forehead before walking to the living room where the sound came from. Zhongli steps out of the room and quietly closes the door behind him, walking toward the living area.

Xiao freezes in his spot when he sees Zhongli enter the room while he is inspecting the decorated room. The thing that caught Xiao’s eyes was a small cupcake in the center of the table, the candle on the cupcake was blown out, and the almond tofu was warm and untouched. A tsunami of guilt hits Xiao, making him clench his fist and crushing the flower in his hands. 

Zhongli leans against the archway of the room, his arms crossed over his chest while gazing at the Yaksha— his face void of emotions. 

Xiao whispers, “I apologize for not showing up on time.”

Zhongli shakes his head. “There’s no need to apologize, Xiao. It seems like you have already celebrated your birthday with someone else,” Zhongli’s eyes lock on the familiar flower in Xiao’s hands.

The very same flower a certain blonde Outlander has in her hair. Zhongli lets out a humorless hum and closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall. All kinds of emotions rush through Zhongli simultaneously— anger, sadness, shock, and heartbreak. 

“I was going to return to the Inn, but Aether and Lumine showed up before I could, but it would be rude of me to leave,” Xiao says.

Zhongli holds his hand up to stop Xiao from continuing even further. “I’m not the person you should be explaining this to, Xiao. It is [Y/N] you should be worrying about, not me.”

The two men stare at each other in silence. What else is there to say? Xiao returned to Wangshu Inn late, past his birthday, when you and Zhongli were waiting for his return. You and Zhongli made almond tofu for his birthday, went out of your way to add minimal birthday decoration in the living area, and a cupcake with a single candle stuck in the center of the cupcake. 

And what was Xiao doing while you and Zhongli were waiting at Wangshu Inn? He was celebrating his birthday with the same girl that nearly killed you, the same girl with feelings for him, and the same girl he almost kissed before Aether interrupted. Xiao sighs and runs his gloved hands through his hair, cursing under his breath while Zhongli continues to stare at him with an unreadable expression.

The door to the bedroom creaks open. The two men turn towards the door and see you emerging from the dark bedroom, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You look at Xiao and Zhongli cluelessly, wondering why the two men look like they’re about to kill each other. Well, Zhongli looks like he wants to kill someone. Xiao looks incredibly guilty and nervous.

“Xiao, you’re back. I, uh, I tried to stay up late to wish you a happy birthday, but—”

Xiao cuts you off.

“Why did you try to stay up and wait for me? There’s no need for you to do it at all, and yet here you are, losing sleep because you wanted to wait for my return,” Xiao narrows his eyes at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

You visibly deflate and sigh in defeat, your gaze falling to the ground. You swallow the lump in your throat and open your mouth to respond, but the flower peeking from behind Xiao’s arms catches your attention. You stare at the flower and point at it with shaking hands.

“That flower….” you trail off. “You were with her this entire time.”

Xiao lets out a sigh. “I can explain,” he starts.

You shake your head. “There’s no need to explain, Xiao. It seems like you have already made your decision,” you give Xiao a weak smile. “I’m too tired to fight and argue right now. I’m going back to sleep.”

You look at Zhongli, who stares at you intently. You hold your hand out, making grabby motions. Zhongli pushes himself off the wall and walks toward you without sparing Xiao a second glance. He grabs your hand, and the two of you return to the bedroom, closing the door. Xiao stands in the living room alone. Xiao lets the flower drop to the ground, slowly approaching the table where the cupcake and almond tofu are waiting for him.

You plop on the bed and stare at the ground. Zhongli sits beside you and wraps his arm over your shoulder, pulling you to his side. You rest your head on Zhongli’s shoulders and close your eyes. You want to cry and scream, but you’re exhausted. 

“I don’t know how much longer this will last, Zhongli. I think I lost Xiao to her already, and he’s only with me because he sees I have other options that aren’t him.” 

Zhongli looks at you curiously. “What are you implying?” Zhongli murmurs.

“It’s not fair for either of us if this continues. Xiao made his decision long ago, and I needed to accept it. He’s only with me because he doesn’t want me to be with you. And I stayed with him because I didn’t want to lose him to someone better than me, but I’m only hurting everyone if I stay.”

You open your eyes and turn to Zhongli. Zhongli wipes the stray tear that made its way down your cheek. You let out a weak and defeated sigh, grabbing Zhongli’s hand and circling your thumb over his knuckles.

Zhongli gives you a faint smile. “That decision is up to you, dearest. If you choose to stay, then stay. If not, then you leave. Whatever decision you make, I will always be there with you every step of the way.”

Your lips tremble as tears continue to pool in your eyes and spill down your cheeks. The problem is you’re unsure if you’re doing the right thing if you stay or leave. You love Xiao. He was your boyfriend before Zhongli was something to you other than an acquaintance. But you also love Zhongli just as much as you love Xiao. Zhongli has been at your side since the incident. He cared for you and protected you. 

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. “I don’t know what to choose, Zhongli.”

How do you know if you’re making the right decision without hurting the people involved?

Note: Damn, it's been a few months since I've posted something for Tragic Outcomes, huh? I will be updating Caught in the Crossfire next week! It's coming to an end, and I want to give it a final "chapter" because I don't want it to end there. I'm not sure how much longer Tragic Outcomes will go on. I think it'll have about ten chapters, maybe? Who knows. Also! I am currently working on a mini-fic for the Isekai'd!Reader series right now! It should be out in a few hours since I am still working on it! Anyway! I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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[waight-gain]

Chapter 6: Intimate Moments

Mike and Sam

This whole story is filled with more NSFW scenes than my previous

The aroma of multiple boxes of pizzas, cheesy bread, and sodas filled the car as Mike and Sam drove home, the boxes stacked on Sam's lap. As they pulled into the driveway, Mike couldn't help but feel a deep sense of anticipation.

Inside, they quickly set up the dining table with plates, napkins, and the cold sodas. Sam's eyes widened as Mike opened the pizza boxes, revealing the massive pies loaded with toppings. "Wow, this looks amazing," Sam said, his mouth already watering.

Mike smiled, feeling a surge of desire. "Dig in," he said, handing Sam a slice. "Let's see how much of this you can handle."

As Sam took his first bite, his eyes closed in pure bliss. The combination of melted cheese, savory toppings, and crispy crust was heavenly. Mike watched him, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. He loved seeing Sam enjoy food, and the joy on Sam's face was intoxicating.

"You look incredible, Sam," Mike murmured, his voice low and husky. "I love watching you eat, seeing your body respond to every bite."

Sam looked up at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and arousal. "I love how you look at me, Mike," he said, his voice soft. "It makes me feel…sexy."

Mike's heart raced with desire. He reached out, his hand tracing the curve of Sam's belly, feeling the soft, pliant flesh beneath his touch. "You are sexy," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "And I can't wait to explore every inch of you tonight."

As they continued to eat, the air between them grew thick with tension. Mike's eyes never left Sam's body, watching as each bite of pizza disappeared, seeing the way Sam's belly expanded with every mouthful. The sight was intoxicating, and Mike couldn't help but feel a growing need to touch, to explore, to indulge.

When the pizzas were finally gone, Mike stood up, his eyes locked on Sam's. "You still have cheesy bread to finish, and don’t you worry, I didn’t forget about dessert."

Sam looked at the remaining cheesy bread, his eyes widening slightly. "Mike, I don't know if I can finish all of this," he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Mike's expression turned more dominant, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, you can and you will," he said, his voice firm yet playful. He picked up a piece of cheesy bread and brought it to Sam's lips. "Open up, Sam. You know you want it."

Sam's eyes fluttered closed as he parted his lips, allowing Mike to feed him the cheesy bread. The soft moans escaping his lips were a mix of pleasure and slight discomfort from the sheer amount of food he had already consumed. Mike watched him intently, feeling a surge of dominance and desire.

"That's it, Sam. You're doing so well," Mike murmured, his voice filled with pride and lust. He continued to feed Sam the remaining pieces of cheesy bread, each bite eliciting more moans and soft gasps from Sam.

Once the cheesy bread was finally gone, Mike stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter. He returned with a large, beautifully decorated chocolate cake, setting it down in front of Sam with a triumphant smile.

"And now, for the grand finale," Mike said, his voice filled with excitement. "I found this recipe online—a super high-calorie chocolate cake, just for you. I know how much you love chocolate, Sam."

Sam's eyes widened in awe and anticipation. "Mike, that looks amazing," he said, his voice filled with gratitude and desire. "But I'm not sure I can handle any more…"

Mike leaned in, his voice low and commanding. "You can and you will, Sam. I want to see you enjoy every last bite. Trust me, you'll love it."

Sam's breath hitched as Mike cut a generous slice of the cake and brought it to his lips. The rich, decadent aroma filled the air, and Sam couldn't help but feel a growing need to indulge. He parted his lips, allowing Mike to feed him the cake. The first bite was pure bliss, the chocolate melting in his mouth, the sweetness overwhelming his senses.

Mike watched him intently, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction and desire. "That's it, Sam. Enjoy it. Feel every bite, every sensation."

Sam's moans grew louder, more desperate as he continued to eat the cake. The pleasure was overwhelming, the pressure building within him, the need for release becoming almost unbearable.

"Mike," he gasped, his voice filled with need. "I'm so full, but it feels so good."

Mike's movements became more urgent, more demanding. He fed Sam the last of the cake, watching as his body responded to every bite, the way he trembled, the way he moaned. It was intoxicating.

When the cake was finally gone, Mike stood up, his eyes locked on Sam's. Sam's body had expanded significantly, his belly round and full, stretching the fabric of his shirt to its limits. His cheeks were flushed, and his breath came in short, labored gasps, the sheer volume of food making it difficult for him to breathe comfortably. His thighs pressed tightly against the chair, and his arms rested heavily on the table, the soft flesh of his biceps spilling over the edges.

"Come with me," Mike said, his voice filled with command and desire. Sam followed him without a word, his heart pounding with anticipation.

In the bedroom, Mike slowly undressed Sam, his hands roaming over every curve and roll of his body. He could feel the heat radiating from Sam's skin, the softness of his flesh beneath his touch. Sam's breath hitched as Mike's fingers traced the lines of his body, exploring every inch of him.

Mike’s own body was a sight to behold. As he undressed, his muscles rippled under his taut skin, each movement revealing the definition of his lean frame. His chest was broad and firm, his abs tightly defined, leading down to a narrow waist. His arms were sculpted, the muscles flexing with every motion. His thighs were powerful, the muscles tensing as he moved, and his calves were tightly corded.

"You're so beautiful, Sam," Mike murmured, his voice filled with awe and desire. "I love every curve, every roll. I love how you've grown, how you've changed."

Sam's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping his lips as Mike's hands continued to explore his body. He could feel the heat of Mike's touch, the way his fingers traced the lines of his belly, the curves of his thighs. It was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but feel a growing need for more.

Mike's lips found Sam's, kissing him deeply, passionately. His hands roamed over Sam's body, squeezing the soft flesh on his sides, feeling the weight of his growth. Sam's moans grew louder, his body trembling with desire as Mike's touch became more insistent, more demanding.

Mike's heart raced with desire. He quickly undressed, his body pressing against Sam's, feeling the softness of his flesh, the heat of his skin. He could feel Sam's need, his desire, and it fueled his own. Mike’s body was tight and bloated, his skin almost shining from the sheer volume of food packed into his gut. The contrast between their bodies was stark and arousing, Mike’s lean strength against Sam’s pliant curves.

As they came together, Mike's hands gripped Sam's hips, feeling the softness of his flesh, the weight of his growth. He thrust into Sam, feeling the tightness of his body, the way he enveloped him completely. Sam's moans filled the room, his body trembling with pleasure as Mike moved within him.

Sam's body arched against Mike's, his moans growing louder, more desperate. He could feel the pleasure building within him, the pressure growing, the need for release becoming overwhelming.

"Mike," he gasped, his voice filled with need. "I'm close, so close."

Mike's movements became more urgent, more demanding. He could feel Sam's body responding to him, the way he trembled, the way he moaned. It was intoxicating. As they reached the peak of their pleasure, their bodies trembling, their moans filling the room, Mike felt a surge of raw, primal satisfaction. He gripped Sam's hips tighter, his thrusts becoming deeper and more intense, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure from both of them. Sam's body arched against him, his moans turning into desperate cries as he reached the edge of his climax.

The room was filled with the sound of their bodies coming together, the scent of their arousal, and the electric tension of their connection. With a final, powerful thrust, Mike pushed them both over the edge, their bodies convulsing in unison as they reached the height of their pleasure. The world around them faded away, leaving only the intense, all-consuming sensation of their shared ecstasy.

[bohemian-nights]

What We May Mend Chapter 6

Word count: ~14,576

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Laena Velaryon

Warnings ⚠️: None

Description: In the year 126 AC Lady Laena Velaryon survives her difficult in a foreign land surrounded by strangers. With a second chance to mend their fractured marriage she and her husband Prince Daemon Targaryen return to Westeros with their children in tow as chaos unfolds around them🐉

AN: I was late coming into this world so I might as well be late updating these chapters.

Laena must deal with the aftermath of the conflict. 🌊

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

“Will you try eating something sweetling?” Laena tried asking the small girl sitting at her side with a smile that was most surely strained, but that could not be helped. Honey skin gone pale. She had not spoken a word since she had arrived at their chambers and that had been hours past now. They had broken their fast, rested for an age through the rising day, and noon had come and gone yet she had remained unmoved.                                

Rhaena was not a very talkative girl and she was indeed fairly prone to melancholy for a child of her age, but she had never seen her like this.                                                               

Just looking at her made her heart ache. Felt her with woe that she wanted to snuff out and replace back with the light of her happy girl.                              

“Would you like to hold the Aemon?” Bess had brought him in with their breakfast. They had all had their fill. He had been content after. She nodded her head and that ache twisted in her chest when she grabbed hold of the babe.           

Daemon had locked them away in their bed chambers. Barred to anyone except their little ones and her parents who were due for a visit. 

Laena did not protest against it. She was to be resting. Maesters orders and she did not wish for company or for whatever they might bring. A couple had tried, Daeron muffling some half apology through the door when the maids cleared away breakfast. No doubt prompted by his little wife or his father who had seen sense enough that he had gone too far in his bitterness. 

Then she heard a voice that sounded as if it belonged to Ser Criston arguing with one of the men posted at the door. It was difficult to say if Alicent had come with him, she had, but Daemon looked as if he were a cat that had gotten into the cream when guards turned them away though she could not say she had behaved any better when the guards had turned away the shrill voice of her cousin and her brood of miscreants. She was after all the reason why Maester Croton had ordered this new and hopefully brief bout of bed rest. She could not overextend herself conversing with the lot who had put her here. 

Besides, the children were all the company she wanted or needed. Gazing upon the small girl staring blankly at the tapestry on the other side of their chamber with Aemon in her hold, the only thing that seemed to placate her, they needed her just as much as she had needed them.  

“Would you like a lemon cake?” Twas her favorite. The girl could eat a whole tray if she let her without a care if it caused her stomach to turn well into the next day. 

Laena had sent for them in hopes that they would cheer her up, and had even eaten one, to tempt her. Stomaching the tart-sweet with embellishments of satisfaction as she bit into it. It was a small thing to pay Tampering down the need to screw up her nose at the taste, she had never understood how someone could find the bitterness that stuck to the back of one's throat pleasing, but she had downed the little cake in two bites for her. 

However, Rhaena looked at the treat in her mothers hands the same way one would look at a sheet of parchment. Bouncing her brother upon her knee with no reflection. 

“The weather is decent enough.” Daemon had joined them on their bed to stroke a hand down Rhaena’s cheek. “Caraxes will be growing restless.”  

Laena had tried not to let the sight of that distract her. She could not decide if it was a strange thing or sweet. 

It was sweet when Rhaena did not flinch away. She did not lean into him either, but it looked natural. Like he had done so a thousand times before. Seeing him speak to her with a quiet voice that was usually reserved for Baela when he wished to dote upon her would’ve made her heart soar. 

Mayhaps she would have counted this as progress another time, but his fatherly affections and simple temptations were not the thing that brought her cheer.       

Aemon chose then to let out a gurgle. She looked 

down at him with a whisper of a smile. It was something. Something that Laena clung to and tried to take hold of and stoke back the fire of life into her, but that too was no use. Rhaena was much more interested in making sure the restless babe in her arms was content than in her father's offer that would bring her own contentment.   

“Why do you not go with your kepa Rhaena?” That suggestion did not have its intended effect. Quite the opposite, it only served to push her further away. 

The small smile their girl wore faded as if it had never been there. Laena grew desperate to get it back. Trying once more while trying not to loss 

“Just you and Kepa while Baela keeps me company. Her attention was drawn to the small babe who had grabbed onto Rhaena’s finger and was using it to suckle on. He would be crying for his noon snack in a few minutes, greedy little thing he was, but for now, he was preoccupied with the diversion

“You may bring Aemon if you wish.” That had only served to bring about a lost look in her eyes. Whispering to her with pleadings that went unsaid, but no less known. You know what I wish for. That unspoken request, but where she would not or rather could not utter it her sister voiced it for her.   

“Has Aemond left?” It was said so quietly by Baela that one would have missed it. Odd indeed for their eldest, for she had never been prone to shyness unlike her sister, but there was a reason for the quietness of the query. 

She had told them so twice now. Whispered and then when luncheon had been served. “She would like to see him.” Always finding some way to redirect their attention back to this want much to her father's annoyance who was less than amused. 

“No.” To both or two either one did not need to ask. Pale green eyes darkened at the onset of the first query turning black and as hard as stone by the second. Leaving no room to ponder over his meaning, but that did little to sway Baela against the topic of conversation.   

“He is her betrothed,” she scrunched up her dark brow, silver head high in indignation not used to being dismissed as such. “You and Muna agreed to it, Kepa!” Baela’s irritation increased tenfold at her pleas having been ignored thrice now.

She had never been a patient girl. Requests denied few and far between. He might love all their children equally, but she was his favorite and Daemon was always more than willing to make sure they were met. If she was a more self-involved girl she would've, but she had her moments of unrelenting stubbornness show ever just as she had not been placated by her father's unyielding word so had he not been endeared by her tantrum. Both were as stubborn as the beasts their ancestors had tamed. Laena dared not give voice to that lest they began to spout out fire with objections and as they did too. 

“My brother agreed to it pet,” She could see him trying to restrain his irritation. Emotions churning within the man. Annoyance redirected to his brother.

It would have been comical, his eyes knitting together as the tips of his ears grew a light shade of red. flushed with his anger. The look of a little boy dejected on such a matter as a betrothal at his age was comical indeed, but the comedy soon lost all its charm with his next words. “And your mother was led astray.”

Laena bit her tongue. busying herself with petting the back of their sullen girl's locks. She focused on the brush of her hand upon the braided strands. Letting the feel of the wiry curls against her palm calm her though it still took a considerable deal of restraint to keep her eyes upon Rhaena and not turn them to her husband to glare at.

Led astray. If she was led astray what was he? 

A man led by his pride. The folly of all men. Her mother's words still ringed around in her head. Maphaps more clearly now than when Alicent’s had come to visit her— yesterday? Only yesterday. Less than a day in truth. 

After the night last it felt like a fortnight between the night and day or at least more than a few hours had passed between when they had spoken in private about the betrothals and now. Now Daemon was threatening to undo that work.

Led astray. How in the seven could he say such a thing? 

Was it not they, Viserys, her father, and Daemon himself rather than the Hightowers who were the reason why they were in this mess?

 They were Targaryens, Velaryons, it was they who made the rules, they who ruled. Had they not been led astray by their egos and ambition for it?  

Perhaps it was a bit cruel of her to add him into the lot, true Daemon had a right to be weary after the chaos that ensued in the wee hours of the morn and before that. 

He and the hand had always been at odds. Her husband was not an easy man and that uneasiness extended to Otto Hightower, but she knew the discord between them was not all his doing. The man excluded him whenever and wherever he could. Council meetings, political dealings, trade arguments, and the running of the kingdom. Taking a special kind of joy in it. 

It was not all malicious. There was a practicality in it. A reason for his methods. For the callousness of it all. Pushing him further and further away from the position he so coveted. There could only be one man at the king's side. Or at least that is how they saw things. A king only had one hand after all. 

Ser Otto had seen to it that the man was him and not the king's brother, even driving out her father in the process of trying to remove her husband from being in Viserys sphere of influence, but he was being utterly ridiculous now.

She had made the deal with Alicent. Not her father. He would’ve never agreed to it. He wanted this no more than Daemon. Mayhaps less, for this arrangement would mean a yielding of sorts, a yielding of the power which he hoarded for himself.  

Alicent only wished for the power to protect her children. Not power for power's sake. There was no harm in letting their girl see the boy, by the Gods, she would be with her and she’d never let their girl be harmed or abused. Alicent would not harm her and most certainly Aemond would not seek to lay a hand or a word against her.  

The boy was not his grandsire. He was not a malicious spiteful creature. He was not some viper waiting in the dead of night at the ready to strike and take what he held dear away from him.  

He may come from one, but he was not a Hightower. He was a Targaryen as his father was before him. The same as Baela, Rhaena, and Aemon. More importantly, he was a child. Nothing more than a child with a child’s wants and regards. 

He could have shown more tact and forth thought in his quest, but painful as it may be, she could not fault him for claiming Seasmoke when he had. It was as if the chance of claiming him would present and Laenor was gone. Buried at the bottom of the sea and never to ride his beloved mount again, but that slender gray beast that he loved so much was very much alive and a dragon would have its rider. 

He was never to not go unclaimed, no one expected that. None could expect that.

Rhaena had wanted him. They all knew that. Twas she who had wished to claim her brother's dragon for her own and therefore it was her opinion and her option alone which Laena cared for on the subject, but their girl was not upset by what was done.

A dragon chooses his master just as much as the master chooses him. Seasmoke had chosen Aemond from forces higher than they were to understand or know as mere mortal men made of flesh and blood. Seasmoke was without a rider The boy had done no wrong in claiming him. He was not spiteful in his doing. He was not petty, certainly not to his uncle or to his cousins, or no matter how some of them may feel about his claim. They had dragons of their own after all and the deed had already been done. 

He was a Targaryen and had done as a Targaryen would. He had only taken what he wanted.

Only took what was his and he had hurt no one doing so. had paid the price with blood chiefly his own. 

He did not even behave like his father whom her husband loathed and loved so much. Though mayhaps he’d like him better if he was. Mayhaps he would like him better if he was like those other boys who were so favored by his brother. If he had his love he might learn to love the boy himself or he might admire him even if he could see himself in him there was more than enough between them to decipher their similarities, but that did not matter. It did not matter if he liked the boy or loved him. 

Rhaena mattered it was her wants, her needs, and her feelings that were most important and if she was this despondent it could only do her good to see him. Could he not see that? See that she was suffering? That she was wanting? It was such a small thing and they could give it to her. An inconsequential thing. There was no harm in it or inconvenience. Absolutely no harm in letting her see the boy. 

“Will I marry cousin Aegon?” Baela asked. Snapping her mother from her thoughts. Her brown face now graced the expression her mother wished to make as her father glared at the word cousin though this line of questioning appeared to not anger him so.

She poked her lip out and crossed her arms as she asked. Waiting for some kind of answer that her father could not ignore. She would have stamped her feet in indignation if she had been standing. Impatient girl she was.

“For now.” The words were clipped. Strained as if containing a growl. Two simple words a pain to the lips they had broken free of.  

It was not a no at least. It was the best that one could hope for given the circumstances. It was indeed something that Laena could work with. For now could easily turn into a yes when the time came. When he had seen the benefit. And really who else was Baela to marry? Some Andal lord from halfway across the continent? A foreign prince? One of her brother's sons?

Hardly likely on all accounts. Each one was more disagreeable than the last and the last was downright unbearable. The thought that she could make her torturer happy by doing so—

She would rather fling herself into the sea below them with a chain of iron around her ankle and join her dearly departed brother than fold to her cousin turned nieces ravenous entreaties.

They had already made enough concessions to one greedy cousin with Aemon and the unborn babe in Hazel Hearte’s belly or the next one after that if this one proved ill-fated for whatever reason. Though Laena almost had half a mind to climb upon Vhagars back, take flight down to Storm's End, and make a proposal to the great oaf whom her mother happened to share blood with. 

By all accounts her Baratheon cousin's plentiful lot, five of them to count and still yet growing, were fine young girls, unlike their bullheaded father. He had a little one who was only a year or two older than Aemon. In due course, she would turn into a perfectly well-bred lady worthy of the title lady of the tides as her great aunt's wife. Borros certainly could do worse than a dragonrider and the lord of the wealthiest house in the seven kingdoms with the largest fleet at his command for a good son. The brother of the future queen. He should be so grateful.

It would be an honor for a second daughter much less for a fifth one and it would certainly help mend the rift between their respective clans, but a promise had already been made. Or as good as one. 

No matter how odious the man was whom they had made that promise to, and what great distress he had lent his hand to a promise was a promise. Laena would not go back upon the unspoken agreement just to satisfy her pettiness and there would be no good in it besides extracting some quest of revenge that was entirely unnecessary. Not that revenge was never justified, and most certainly was not in this case, but Daeron could easily be brought to heel the same as any other man. His wants were as redundant and common as the rest and his anger though temperamental and prone to brashness. 

However, Rhaenyra’s requests were not as common and rudimentary as mere men and their petty demands. She wanted and she wanted and still wanted more.

Twas not enough to accept. That would never be the She would take a whiff and latch, a bit, whatever they would concede to her and latch like the wild dragons when. she’d devour her whole if she could. She wanted to devour her until, but there had been nothing to find. Her shield was impenetrable. 

She and more importantly Daemon had made so much as a hint of such an agreement to her brother's widow and her litter. Laena had seen with her own eyes that ridiculous letter she had sent, turned into ash by his hand a fortnight ago. Last night he had not gone to see her. Even if he had not done as he had, Laena would never make good on those promises or fold to her antics and it seemed neither would Baela.

Their girl hadn't been quieted by her father's word as he had hoped. No, they had only spurred her inquisition on. 

“Who shall Rhaena marry? She can not marry Aemon,” Her mouth curled down in disgust as she looked down at the babe in her sister's hold at the prospect. A look she was sure she mirrored. Pulling the blanket wrapped around her tighter she felt a chill going up her spine as she tried to banish the thought away. “He is too little and she can not marry the other boy that cousin Rhaenyra wishes her to.” 

The other boy. Laena wanted to cackle at that, but she knew Daemon would take it as a sign that she had been tired out and the children would be sent back to the nursery. She couldn’t have that so she hid placing a kiss on the crown of Rhaena’s locks.  

Baela knew good and well who the other boy was, but there was a great deal of comfort in her not naming him. The Gods knew how much the Valyrian lady took comfort in her not naming it. Naming meant something. A name meant personhood. They were more than just some faceless figures. A name meant a connection. 

She did not know any of her cousins well or at all for that matter, but she had managed to name Aegon and Aemond even if she did not, but he, her brother's son, was the other boy. 

“He is not Uncle Laenors son,” Baela continued, turning to her with that dignified expression which did not quite fit her years. “He is a bastard. They are all bastards, are they not muna?” 

She was right of course, more right than Laena would say or than he would admit. Aegon had been right with his assessment of his half-nephew's true parentage. One needed only to gaze upon and then back at the Velaryons and Targaryens scattered about Hide Tide to know they were not as they should be. No true Velaryon would have hair the color of raven feathers, eyes the color of the sky, or noses so common that one could place them anywhere. 

Saints above there were low-born bastards in King's Landing on the streets of Flea Bottom or Hull as common as could be who looked more Valyrian than they. Their mothers were whores or the daughters and wives sailors and shopkeepers and yet they had still managed to inherit the visage of Old Valyria

Like black rams among a flock of sheep. It was more than obvious what Laenor’s sons were not sired by him. 

But saying the words out loud, confirming who they were, she could not bring herself to admit to it. 

Regardless of which loins they had sprung from, they had been Laenors. He claimed them as his own. Watched over them. Cared for them. 

He was not perfect, it was not an easy thing, but he loved them. 

Mayhaps not as much as she loved her children. Laena often wondered if men were even capable of that kind of love, but it was love, and those boys loved him in return.

 It would be almost sacrilegious to not acknowledge it. To disrespect that bond that was not her own or hers to comment upon with Laenor rotting at the bottom of the sea so she froze. 

Her mouth gaping open and closed like a fish. Gasping for air as she stuttered. Her brain scrambled for a reply that was appropriate to the girl who had started to smirk beneath what she supposed passed as a pious brown face, but in reality made her all the more impish.  

It was little wonder why then that seemed to be the extent of her husband's patience.    

A hand rubbed into his brow as he let out a huff of breath. Laena wondered if he'd send the girl for a nap to end her prattling. Thankfully one of the guards, the same boy which he had posted outside their door, knocked upon it and let in one of the serving boys clutching something tightly between sweaty fingers. 

Twas a note from her father. Summoning Daemon for some matter which he was urgently needed by the way he spoke with a flurry and by the lines and deep furrows that grew upon his face when he had stepped away into the sitting room to deal with the matter. His animation increased by the second the boy had not been deterred by his barking focused upon the task of getting her husband to heed her fathers message.

The Stepstones if she had to guess the topic of it from the near silent hisses and from the sliver left by the door halfway shut. 

Daemon had whispered into her ear when they had exhausted themselves last night. A thought which she had to bite her bottom lip to distract herself as she felt her face grow flush with heat. 

It had been a pleasant night. A very pleasant morning, she could almost feel his skin upon hers, his breath ghosting the shell of her ear, and taste the sweetness of his tongue upon her, but the memory of their love making faded with the taste of something more than the bitterness of the lemon cakes upon her tongue when she recalled what would be in that note. 

War. The call of the battlefield. That bloody business of men which her father was about to thrust himself within. A necessary evil some men would say how they would rationalize it, but that was not what this was. 

Twas his way out of all of this. His escape from dealing with what had happened with Laenor. Which had almost happened to her. He wanted away.

She knew he loved her. That he loved and still loved her brother despite his frustrations with what he felt were his deficiencies as a man. There was no doubt that her mother was the very center of his world. It was not a question of love or his paternal or martial devotion, but her father had never been any good at dealing with his emotions and Laenor’s passing pushed him into the depths of them. 

War he knew. A life at sea, with his ships, his crews and his generals traversing the vastness of that sea, journeying to distant lands, ready to take on any foe they might face was what he knew best. What he could deal with.

He was a seaman through and through. Those waters beyond Driftmarks shores were his second home and in many regards his first.  

With a sword in hand everything was as it should be. The fractured pieces mending. The blood and the sweat one poured into battle was what he could wrap his mind round. 

War had a way of simplifying things. Of making the complicated uncomplicated. It was primal. Raw. life stripped down and bare. The fight for survival and nothing more was all second nature. Comfort. Twas a comfort to Daemon too. 

The carnage, the chaos, and the death that would follow it. 

Their playing fields were different of course. The skies were Daemon’s domain just as the seas were her fathers, but the principal was the same and they had the bond of brotherhood in arms flowing through them. That camaraderie which seemed to bind men to each other. It occurred to her then that her father would call upon that bond to bring her husband with him back by his side. 

Did he wish to leave her too? Go to what he knew best. Go back to a place where she didn’t make demands of him. Where the only obligation was to keep himself alive. Otherwise he could do as he pleased without having his wife breathe down on him. The threat of self implosion reflected back in a brown haze that muddied everything it touched. Did he wish that? 

War or not it did not look as if he did not wish to leave. He almost looked pained to have left her side with only the distance of a few feet separating him. Snapping at the poor boy in his company while his sight turned to her. She felt her breath lighten when she met his eyes. 

Laena couldn’t bear the thought if he had turned away from her. If his eyes were alight with the call to war and not with an apology in their emeralds depths. If he had not dismissed the serving boy with another bark that sent him trembling, scurrying back to her father with his reply. He joined them again with heavy steps and a sigh. 

“Eat something for your mother,” Daemon bent down to place a kiss Rhaena’s head in his hands when he reached them. Bending down to place.

He had not looked this exhausted since Laena had awoken. She could not help feeling a pull within her chest when she saw the hard edge of his jaw softening at their girl.

For her part Rhaena did not lean into his affection. Growing stiff when he placed a kiss into her curls. It threw her husband off kilter. His movements grew uncertain. Arms laying stiffly at his side as if he did not know quite what to do with her rejection. 

It was a rare thing for her to receive his attentions. They were almost exclusively reserved for her sister and now Aemon, but today he had given it all to her. If she had been in better spirits she would have lapped it up beaming with a halo around her, but now that affection was like the taste of dirt. Soiled and unwanted. 

He turned, but she could only answer him with a small shrug and a softening of her gaze. Petting the girl to calm her. She could not blame her for the small act of defiance. Not after everything. Now then, before. She was a child. Their child, and she could not blame her for snuggling closer into her embrace while she turned her back to her father. 

The tension in her small body only left when her Daemon had hastily moved on to place a kiss upon the downy head of her brother and then Baela who clung to him where she. Wrapping her little arms around his head to return his affection before he pulled away to repeat his goodbye to Laena. 

“Send for Bess if the little monsters wear you out.” The cod in his voice let some of unease dissipate from the room as his lips ghosted her temple. Eyes drifting over to the silver haired girl sporting a pout and winked at her as she huffed in good natured exasperation.

He was trying at least. Trying for her. for them even if that trying would take a while and never wash away the stain of the bruises embedded within them, he was trying. 

The door had barely been shut, Daemon hardly left from earshot when Baela renewed the conversation. Not quite yet willing to let the situation of betrothals and betrotheds be put to rest. 

“He said I would be queen,” She had her eyes upon her brother in her hold as she reached out a hand to pet him. The corners of her eyes and mouth twitched in amusement when he nuzzled his head into her palm. She was growing better with him. Gentler. In the same way she was when she and Rhaena had been little and she had taken to her role as elder sister like a fish  to water. 

Mayhaps she had taken her fathers words to heart and seen sense not to cause her mother further distress with her sister occupying her plate, or rather she did not wish to destress her with sibling quarrels and  thought the continuation of this subject was a more suitable distraction.

Laena was more than grateful for the ceasefire of hostility. She would have marveled at it. Wanted to coo at it. Even with Rhaena longing, they were safe.

 All her children were safe and sound and she was with them. Her eyes watering as she smiled. She had grown ever so sentimental since she had awoken, every moment all the more precious when one nearly joins the Gods but she kept her endearments close at heart. Part because she did not wish to spoil the moment and part because of the words which Baela spoke.  

“He said it was my birthright.” 

“Do you wish to be queen?” Laena stiffened as she recalled a conversation not dissimilar from this one with her own mother shifting so she could brush loc away from the girl's face, but she had never been asked such a thing then. She had been told who she was and what she was destined for. She was to be queen and that was that. 

She was barely older than Baela was now. Only a girl of two and ten. Still yet to receive her first moonblood. Her mother, but there had never become anything of that. She was not destined to be a queen when it was all said and done. 

The only thing which she had become was the Sealords son. A consolation prize and a poor one at that. She could not say that she was upset. Oh the lord had been rich enough and had collected land aplenty to match his fortune, yet his son left much to be desired and soon that fortune went to dust. 

Mayhaps she should say she felt some grief when he had been slain at Daemon's hand, but she would be lying if she admitted to feeling such. 

It was cruel, but Laena had wanted rid of the boy who bored her to the point where she considered picking out her nails just for some excitement. 

She had wanted to be Daemon’s when he asked for her hand. Wanted it more than anything else. 

Her father had liked him and her mother did not put up much of a fight when she realized her pleas would fall upon deaf ears, but she was a child. A girl who had yet to have her six tenth name day. A sheltered girl who had never left the company of her parents, her brother, her septa, and her cousins. A girl who had not known what the world was, much less her place in it. She did not know she had choices. 

Her girls would have that at least. That she had promised to them and herself. A choice. As much of one she could give them. 

“Yes,” she said simply.

I had wanted that. I had not even questioned when my mother said I would be queen. A queen. The queen. Even to a girl was a hard thing to pass on and an even harder thing for her to understand. For a queen was more than just a title and crown. A queen was beholden to the king. Who that king was made all the difference. 

“Even if it is Aegon’s queen?” Queen she may be but only the wife of a king. She would have power, but only the power which he gave her. She would never hold more power than him. Dependent upon the whims of her husband. 

True enough there would be worse boys to be betrothed to than her cousin. Boys unfit for her. Cruel boys. Men even. Men who had far removed from her boyhood who would want her. The likes of the Lannister twins who had yet to find wives or Lord, Celtigars eldest son. All older than she and the former were rather solipsistic from what she could recall.

Aegon had his merits there. Even though the distance seemed vast now There were not too many years separating them. He was a boy at least the same as her. An gluttonness boy, blinded by greed and vice, he was not a cruel boy. Nor a selfish one. He had been willing to take the blame for his mother. 

Of course there was the issue of his drunkenness, but he was young. Young enough hopefully to curb the worst of it and stop it before it took hold of him and left nothing to salvage the same. Young enough hopefully to mold into a decent enough husband where his and in a large regard his uncle had failed. However, once that crown was placed upon his head it was a gamble of what he would become. The Iron Throne had a way of changing the men who occupied it, even those surrounding it.

Aegon claimed that the crown was her birthright and he was to give it to her, but it would simply not be her crown. Not truly. She would bear the title queen and bore him sons but Baela would be at his whim. She would have to fold to whatever demands he made of her the same as any other subject. That was the cost of her birthright. 

 A queen was not simply the queen. One could never fool themselves into thinking that. 

However, to credit to her Baela the question laid before her some more consideration, beginning anew with some hesitation. Mulling over her speech with careful deliberation. 

“Yes.” Her head was held high again, nose pointed in the air in a rather dignified manner that made it hard to doubt her conviction. “He is not intolerable. Once one gets past the smell of the ale.” She looked older than a girl of nine with that manner of speech.  

Gaining her confidence with each word she spoke. “He is not like his father. He will need help.” As did Viserys though the man did have as they all. “Lots of help and I shall birth the next king,” she looked more than happy at that. Her smile stretched from ear to ear. “It will not be a burden muna. You need not worry.”

Laena burst into laughter at the wide grin on Baela’s face, all too pleased with the level of maturity of that answer and making it all the more comical for her muna in the place of the observer of such behavior. 

She could not keep the genuine mirth she felt from radiating out in that moment nor did she think she should. Oh how she had It even earned a twinkle albeit a small one from Rhaena as she hid it behind the crook of her arm she rested her head upon. 

Her eldest might have her father's stubbornness and temperament, but mayhaps Daemon was right that she had inherited her sensibilities as well. She would need them sooner than she'd like to think. 

Her mother came in not long after for tea as she had so promised. Rhaenys Targaryen almost immediately took up the task of trying to coax Rhaena from her melancholy, regaling her with stories of her own childhood, but her efforts proved to be just the same as the rest. The girl's mood remained steady as the rise and set of the sun. It was clear with each passing attempt that the battle was all but lost. 

“She wishes to see Aemond.” Baela whispered to her grandmother as she helped herself to a lemon cake her sister refused to touch. Chewing with her mouth open, most decidedly unladylike, but Laena could not find the will to scold her for it. It was rather endearing despite the lack of manners. It was nice to see the child that she still very much was underneath the airs which she put on and the pure joy she felt towards the sweet. 

She liked them as much as the younger girl, but being the gracious elder sister duty bound she always let her have most of the lot. Nothing stopped her now though she had not given into greed. “Kepa will not let her.” 

Laena turned to Rhaena who had handed Aemon back to her. Taking a seat at the window as she stared out. Watching the dragons fly around freer than Rhaena restricted by Daemon and his rules.

It came from a good place. She knew it did. Stubborn and prideful as he was he was trying, but her feelings were worth more than his pride. Why should they listen   to that ego when she was this way? No she could not placate him now at the expense of their girl. 

“Kepa is not here.” What he does not know will not hurt him, she convinced herself. Besides, Laena would tell him—in due course. What was done When Rhaena was well again and they had enough sense and proof that taking her to see her cousin was decidedly not a danger to her and was more alluring to taking her for a ride upon Caraxes she would tell him. 

What other choice did she have?

Rhaena would never improve like this. This lifeless creature she had been turned to. Why not give the girl what she wanted? Alicent had not meant her harm and most certainly Aemond would not.   

She called one of the serving boys who had brought in their tea over with a wave of her injured hand while continuing to rock Aemon with the other. “Fetch my cousin Damieon.” He owed her. Of course it was not exactly he who had anything to do with her maiming, but he would be more than willing to make up for where his brother had to trampled over. 

Laena received a raised brow from her mother at more than just her pick of escort, but she ignored it. Focusing her attention on her youngest daughter who looked more lively than she had a minute past. 

“Come Rhaena,” the girl scrambled to her feet with such speed she had nearly knocked the tea service. Big brown eyes full of unshed. Reaching out a hand towards her mother until she put when her 

“Perhaps I should take her to see the boy and his mother.” Laena did not miss the way the last word caught in the back of her mothers throat nor the strain in her expression. Mouth thinned to a line and hazel eyes darting and narrowing at her bandaged hand and then back to meet her gaze that was glazed with flames. 

It was an expression she knew well. A maternal sort. A protective sort. The kind that growled, bared its teeth and dared anyone who so much as breathed in her direction, with a bark of fire. It made her feel as though she were a child again in need of protection from the ghost and phantom creatures under her bed coming to torment her in the dead of the night. Except that shape now took form in one Hightower queen, but she did not need protection from the source of her mothers wrath.   

Oh there could be no doubt that her mother had liked Alicent. Rhaenys Targaryen would never make a deal with someone she did not like, or someone which she thought was a danger to her children and grandchildren at the least. However, if one were to make it past their guards burst through her chambers and ask her who she held in high regard, the Hightower queen would be at the bottom of that list of people she was fond of at the moment. She would come around in time. Stubborn yes, but she was not unreasonable unlike some, but they did not have the time to wait. 

The kings party would be gone back to King's Landing  in a few hours and with it their chance to remedy this

Twas now or the Gods knew when. Whenever that was it would be too late. Daemon would see to it that distance was permanent. She'll forget about him by the end of the moon Laena, he would tell her. Whisper it into her ear as he had before the morning's light greeted them. All too sure of himself that he knew what was best for their girl and in all likelihood he would be right. 

She moped now, but Aemond and Rhaena did not know one another. It truly wouldn’t take much for her to forget about him and think of him no more than wave that came and went. Distractions were easy enough to come by. One trip to Dragonstone an egg placed by her side and her childish fancy would be gone as if it had never been. Daemon would make sure that was the end of it. A dragon's word was final, but he was not the only dragon which she had to contend with, not the most pressing one at that moment. 

Baratheon pride in full swing her mother was already sitting up from where she had settled when Laena reached for her. The corners of her mouth perked up and her eyes softened as she tried her best to stop her from protesting further. 

“Baela has exhausted herself.” She did not look at all convinced, but Baela seemed to catch onto her plans. Making little sighs as she yawned. Bringing her hand up to her face in mock stifling as if that was not  good enough.  

She was not a natural born actress, but she tried leaning on her grandmother to feign the appearance of sleepiness while Laena pleaded her case. “I would take her, but it is quite cruel to take her and she does so enjoy her grandmother’s company.”

Laena practically tied herself into knots as she begged her mother with a smile which she hoped reached her dark orbs. Relax. Light, keep your voice light and free of your emotion, she told herself. She will not give in if she thinks you have reached your limit. “We shall only be in the west tower and Daemion shall be with us.” 

Please listen. Please.         

She did not have it in her to fight this battle. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was still quite tired. Exhausted in fact. The birth of Aemon had taken most of her energy and what little she had gained over the past moon and a fortnight was nearly gone now from the swipe of Viserys blade, but Rhaena needed this. She needed her. 

For Rhaena she would don her robes, leave the comfort of her bed and the warmth of her bed to venture into the den of Greens. The den of vipers as Daemon would call them.

What mother would not do that and more for their children? Never mind her own aches, Laena would not be deterred from it no matter how exhausted she felt. She was not truly hurt anyway. Just exhausted and that was no excuse for her to remain cooped up resting upon her laurels in these chambers.

Her mother must have known that there would be no amount of arguing that would change her mind or she wished not to distress her or Rhaena further. Sheletgo of her hand with a pat when Daemion appeared in the doorway. The one perk to everyone treating her as if she were an invalid.

Her cousin must have sprinted to her chamber for he was more than slightly out of breath as he greeted them with a nod barely manhunt to get out the words my lady cousin and lady aunt and a pensive expression, awaiting instruction. 

“Send the boy my regards.” Her mother fixed herself back upon the settee. She caught Daemon’s, but hazel eyes shifted their focus back onto Laena. That steely gaze sharp as Valyrian steel as it bore into her. “If she starts to look faint, bring her back here. Even if she attempts to persuade you otherwise.”

Her cousin looked rather weary of the possibility of being charged with such a task and having to face the wrath of one mother dragon and likely another angry dragon and a great sealord if he failed at it, but he simply nodded his head. Not daring to open his mouth to question her command. Gifting Rhaena a sheepish smile instead. One for which Laena was exceedingly glad of it. 

A kiss was brushed onto Baela’s cheek and one on her mothers while she ignored the hazel eyes still boring into her own and they were off leaving a trail of skirts in their wake. 

The walk was a silent one. The distance between the guest quarters and their tower was not particularly lengthy, but it was long enough to get her bearings about her and for her mind to wonder.

Absent-mindedly her un-injured hand went to the banaged one. Rubbing it as she stared down at nothing in particular. Too preoccupied to notice anything in front of her. Her mind festered with slivers of voices, shouts, screams. Every step drawing them closer. 

Even with her mind clouded with her own little worries and anxiousness to see her cousin Rhaena noticed for the little hand that was in hers gave a small squeeze. Smiling up at her it reminded her of Daemon.  

Returning it in kind, Stilling herself and finding strength in it. She had no reasons to be nervous. It was she who had been the injured party even if that injury had been intended to her. Alicent owed her a debt  It was she who agreed to Alicents deal and would continue to do so.

Two guards, a kingsguard and one of the household guards were posted outside the doors of the guest quarters where Alicents chamber lay. Ser Criston was absent, but Laena suspected the man could be found behind those doors next to the queen. The guards let her in without much fuss. Without a word in fact.  Simply stepping back to their posts when the iron creeped as they crossed the threshold. That too she surmised was the queens doing.

It was a good thing that she expected their visit, Laena told herself. It was hope. Hope that things were not so bad in the light of day as they had been in the dark of night.

She had held onto hope too. Letting it guide her here. Turning around to face them before one of the servants could fully announce their arrival as had Aemond. The boy Rhaena did and she was off by the boys side. Her mother who she had clung to just moments past forgotten in favor of her cousin. If this was a vipers nest she had seemed to find a home among them.

“I tried to call upon you, but your guard—”Alicent had reached out a pale hand lined with rings, but stopped herself when her brown eyes caught sight of the bandages on her arm. That hand hung motionless in the air, but Laena would not have. Meeting her the rest of the way. Taking her hand in hers and placing a sisterly pat upon. 

“My husbands doing,” and my own, but she did not need to know that. At any rate it was not as if she was purposely trying to exclude the Hightower queen. She only just wished to be left alone. The doors to her chambers were barred to all. Maesters orders. Twas nothing to be ashamed of or apologize for.  

Not wanting to dwell on it a moment longer or let the tension fester, she added the truth to ease Alicent’s  mind, “Rhaena wished to see your boy.” Her darling girl had begged for it. Refused nourishment for it, refused to even let her own mother comfort her, but all seemed well now. 

“How is Aegon?” Alicent had not had time to school her features when she had frowned at the question. Then again the woman appeared to her an open book. Biting her lip or worrying her hands whenever she appeared in distress which was quite often from what little she had observed.  

“With my father—he—he has calmed down.” Her eyes flitted over the light chamber. Dark pools searching for something. Someone in her hesitation. Her breath hitched when she met another brown gaze who had been standing sentinel at the children’s side instead of where he ought to be standing guard near the door.

Queen and knight were drawn together as if he too had been searching her out rather than merely executing his duties. 

Laena cataloged that exchange, which could not have lasted more than a few seconds, somewhere in the back of her mind for safekeeping, not letting the sight of them take up her attention. However, she did note in that moment that the Dornish man showed the anger the anger must have felt with her eldest which was stifled under a mask of grace and sorrow. 

What he had calmed down from went without saying. Hosed down and laid to dry out was the appropriate word for it considering last night. Shame it was for someone so young and in such a state of ruin upon himself. 

A light blush overtook the queen's pale face when she noticed her audience. Clearing her throat as she composed herself or tried to. 

“How is Baela?” Her brows knitted together as she gazed off at the door swallowing the lump in her throat with a smile that did not reach her eyes painted her face. Mayhaps she should’ve brought her, but it would have been unwise. 

The girl did not hold her tongue and would likely say something about last night or her betrothal that she would have to apologize for and there needn’t  be any more apologizes she would like to make. 

There was no need for what ifs. Laena wanted to put the woman at ease before her. 

“As long as her sister is well she is well.” Well indeed by the looks of it.

Laena spied a glance at her girl over Alicent’s shoulder. Rhaena and Aemond had been joined by Helaena. The pale girl had placed a spider into her hands.

She did not think she could be so calm had it been her hand. She would have flung the creature halfway across the room and recoiled against the wall in hopes that would end it, but Rhaena seemed content with her present circumstance. Letting the spindly thing crawl around her palm as if it were a pet and not a pest. It seemed to bring a smile on Aemond’s face as he watched the two girls. 

“They will be happy.” It came out without her meaning to. Thinking out loud she supposed. It was the first bout of respite from worry she had for the better part of the morning. Her tongue had loosened along with her mind from it.  

Mayhaps it was too soon to tell. Mayhaps she should keep it to herself. Bit her tongue, dug her nails into her stitches, or stubbed her foot, to stop herself from saying so. Mayhaps she should even discourage it. 

They were so very young. Younger than Alicent when she had married the king. Younger even than when her own father had tried offering her to that same man. 

They had scarcely two years between them. That was much better than any of them.  

Though it would become immaterial by the time Baela reached Aegon's age, even they had six years between them. It showed now with Aegon on the cusp of manhood at nearly six and ten and Baela just giving up her dolls, but there was little difference between a boy of ten and a girl of eight. 

Aemond had yet to grow hair upon his chest and Rhaena was far from bleeding, but the color had returned to Aemonds face and the light in her eyes. They both looked happy. Content. 

They liked each other and by all accounts it was a good match. A fine match. An excellent match. No matter all Daemons posturing and objections, Aemond was a prince. He was a Targaryen. A second son yes, but Laena did not think that Viserys would be so cruel as to deny him a keep of his own nor would Aegon go back upon this promise when he took the throne. 

Someplace in the Crownlands perhaps? The Reach? It was far, but Rhaena would love the greenery. Or perhaps one of the smaller isles that remained unoccupied between here and dragonstone. Regardless, it would be a place to grow and fill their halls with the patter of little feet and childish totterings, that is when the time came away and childhood had gone. 

There was also the business of them being cousins rather than siblings. That most certainly didn’t hurt. It most certainly helped the Hightower queen. 

Of course she knew what family she had married into. it was custom for one to marry brother to sister in their  family. One must keep the bloodline pure. Had Aemon been born sooner or had Rhaena or Baela the two would have already been betrothed to each other. 

Cousins were a last resort. Not ideal, but better than thinning the blood with those who were not fit to hold the title of husband or wife of a Targaryen. 

House Velaryon, her birth house, would usually get that honor when times were desperate enough. They were Valyrian. Had enough, but even with the edition of House Velaryon. The family had always been rather small, but that had changed of late. There had been plenty of cousins and marriages with them. 

She and Daemon were cousins, yes, but he was old enough to be her father. He treated her like a father sometimes with his chastisements. Shame to say she didn’t always mind it when he got that way. It was safe. Comforting even. Affection. Anyway she could get it. She had wanted him, she was bred for it, but she was not an oblivious child. could not ignore that. 

Lanea was sure that Alicent liked the fact that she would not have to marry her sons to her daughter. Twas a queer custom the other houses never took to. The Hightowers in particular seemed less than enthused to follow their foreign rulers in their strange ways. Even the seven only tolerated it. A mere necessary evil. A necessary compromise. 

Their rulers after all were more Gods than men. 

They had dragons to prove it, to show for it,  that required it, but the practice should not be repeated throughout the seven kingdoms. Not by common men. Not when it led to such unwelcome outcomes and if one were to be truthful, though they may be more Gods than men, the outcomes were not always favorable for them either. 

Mayhaps they should end that practice. There were more than enough cousins to go around now. Cousins would do. Velaryons and Targaryens alike. 

The bloodline need not suffer for it. Their  bond with their mints did not have to suffer for it. The bloodline mayhaps be better off for it. Healthier for it. There was so much sickness. So much madness that went about.

There was something not quite right with so many of them.  

Daemon liked to call Daenys mad. They would not be here without her, would have perished with the rest of the old country, but she had been odd even by the standards of their house. Had balked, face turning white as a ghost and then setting to marble when Laena had suggested the name when she had been heavy with Rhaena. She had not brought it up when Aemon was in her belly and thankfully she hadn’t, but were other names shrouded with the madness that plagued their house.

Maegor was undoubtedly mad. His brother was a weakling he would’ve never been long for the world even if he had succumbed to the weight of the crown. Then there was Viserys with all his ailments. His mother Princess Alyssa had died trying to birth another boy for her great uncle. That boy had not even made it to his first name day before he joined his mother.

Rhaenyra’s grandmother had been a halfwit or as good as one. In all regards she should not have been married off her constitution too delicate for it and the business that would follow. Her daughter fared no better. The late queen consort had lost all her babes save her late cousin. 

Her grandmother, a hardy Baratheon lady, had only been able to have her mother. She had tried to give her, but her womb never quickened once her mother had left from it. Her mother did not suffer as she had, but Laena could recall once when she had been little and her father. There had been no babes save her cousins that graced Hide Tide after that. 

All her babes were tiny things. Even Baela, who had been her most robust babe, was such a little thing. Daemon had even confessed to her when she was still in that he was afraid he might break her if he held her for too long. Then there was the difficulty of birthing those babes. Of Aemon. How that had nearly broken her. 

Mayhaps they would be happier without the pressures and strain of having to marry someone whom you shared a womb with. Or at least less madness, misery, and strife could come about from it.

There would be many moons, before anything could come of that happiness, babes included Gods willing, but it was rather obvious. With the way that they leaned upon the other. How it was not a pretty sight, raw and red for and lined with stitches, but Rhaena not a bit afraid of the damage done. 

With their shy beams and the sweet little kiss Rhaena had placed upon his reddened cheeks flush with a blush that she, Alicent, Ser Criston, Daemion who was helping himself to a bit of cider and cheese, pretended to not see while Helaena prattled on about her six-legged friends and how they were almost as good a friend as her dragon Dreamfyre. 

They would make each other happy. Very happy. 

“They will be.” At last the queen was at ease. Returning her grin. Her first true smile. 

The sound of footsteps coming from the hall pulled them away from pleasant musings. Standing in the chamber's archway Ser Otto Hightower had arrived at last with Aegon and the new Lord of Harrenhal. 

The latter looked more startled to see her than she did him. The my lady and bow he gave her was stiff as a wooden plank, and the smile did not touch his eyes. Downcast doleful, unimpressed by what they gazed at. They  reminded her of some of the hounds her uncle had liked to keep for hunts. They were famed for their dullness, but they lacked conviction in their ability to completely conceal his emotions.

She could imagine that he would have begun to grind his teeth if he thought she would not take notice of it, but she would not let his dour face ruin her mood. He could look sour all he liked, she was not his enemy, and in a handful of years time, they would be family. He would learn to live with it. Laena supposed she should be grateful because his presence was benign in comparison to another pair of eyes she felt upon her. She met that stare and regretted it the instant she had.

One would think he would have shifted his gaze to the wall or when he had been caught as he had strike up a conversation to shift away from his gaffe, but Ser—Lord, she had to remind herself that he was a lord now, Lord Larys Strong did not behave as a man who had been caught doing something he knew social propriety would dictate he beg pardon for. He kept on staring as if nothing was amiss.

Laena would not have paid the man any mind, never mind that it was not his place to be here during this private matter. Would not even have minded if he had feigned ignorance as if he had not been focusing upon her, but that stare. It was unnerving. His person was unnerving. 

It was not his affliction that unnerved. On the contrary, his foot, the limp, and his hunched gait from said affliction was the least odd thing about him, but pity for him was far from her mind when she met his stare. 

He wore neither a smile nor a frown, the expression was nearly innocuous. It should stir no emotions. One should not think, but there was something wrong in it. Something that made her blood turn to ice the more she kept up their contest of stares. That every expression held. Like it knew more than whatever neutrality it tried to claim. 

Laena would have thought she had given into paranoia, she was more prone to that these days or she was far more observant than before. However Daemion had begun to eye the man with much suspicion between sneaking morsels of food and avoiding the pet which Helaena was trying to thrust upon him. 

No, her eyes did not deceive her. 

If there were any vipers, any snakes among them anywhere within this room it was he.

Trying to mask the shudder that crawled up her spine and wanting to escape those pale eyes which followed her, Laena turned to Aegon. 

The boy looked as if his spirits had returned to him from the day last. Eyes no longer reddened by whatever he had consumed. The alcohol was gone from his body. They were a nice color. Not the rich brown of his mothers, but darker than his fathers pallid shade that showed the sickness within. Livelier still than his grandsire's dull shade, the man she had decided was all clouds of gray. 

His were more like his younger brothers. Clear and calm like the sky on a bright morn.

He did look tired. Dark circles and shadows lined his face, but true to Alicent’s word he was fully conscious of his surroundings. Sobriety was a much more appropriate look for a boy his age. 

“Baela sends her regards nephew.” She would look at her as mad as Ser Otto looked at his daughter right now if she were here beside her, but she was  thankfully tucked safely away in her chambers with her mother and Aemon. 

The boy nodded his head aimlessly. Up and down like an empty bottle floating on the sea's surface. His eyes darted from where his mother stood behind her. Discretion was something he seemed to share with her girl if Laena had to guess or bet a crown upon his query. “Is the child—lady Baela,” catching himself, his Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat when he gazed over at the spot she had last seen Ser Criston residing. “My cousin, is she well?”

“Quite well, rest assured.” He nodded again. That cork-like nod as he walked over to where the rest of the children resided. They were getting on sowell. 

They chattered away for sometime, Laena made it a point to remain as far away from Lord Larys as possible as did Alicent who stuck close to her side while avoiding the eyes of the viper. 

A band of refreshments were sent for while the maids packed, but they began to quiet as the time neared for the king's party to take their leave of them. 

It was then Laena decided that they would walk with them to the docks and the rocky outcrops where the dragons called home. A proper send off was owed and more time beget.

Rhaena had seemed reluctant to part from Aemond and he her. Better to give the girl as much time with him as she could Daemon would not be there and her father was often long winded even if he planned on seeing that his brother and the Hightowers had quit their sojourn at Hide Tide. 

She had been wrong. Her father was nowhere to be found, but the formidable Sea Snake had not held up the man as she had hoped. 

Her husband was waiting for them there by the sea with Baela hand in hand. Rhaenyra was with them, she could not say she was surprised by this, but she did not seem to match each other. Looking the one out of this trio of Targaryens though no less enthused. 

A smile was splayed across his pale face. One that Rhaenyra mirrored, however hers, seemed to be more of the genuine variety than Daemon’s. 

Petting the top of Baela’s silverhead before moving on to stroke her face. One could almost call it motherly if they did not look upon the brown face on the receiving end of this mothering.   

The girl looked to be on the verge of saying something less than pleasant, glaring at her elder cousin, but whatever she planned on saying died in her throat when those dark eyes livened at the sight of her mother and sister. 

That smile did not get warmer on her fathers face. Up close one could see the annoyance in his eyes. He was courteous enough though she was sure that show was for his brother. The spirit of camaraderie and goodwill was in full swing for now as he had reminded them, but Daemon would not be the Daemon the man she loved if he did not behave with some modicum of rebellion. 

He pulled her into him as soon as she was within each. Like a grubby child who could not wait to get his hands upon his favorite toy. It was entirely possessive, but Laena would have preferred if he had left it there and been content by her presence alone. 

“Your mother was kind enough to stay with Bess and Aemon.” He whispered into the shell of her. His breath fanned her flushed skin. Almost as if he was to kiss the sensitive flesh as he had done so a thousand times before.

It was Intimate even now with his restrained ire, but anger was another form of passion. Especially when it came to him. The man was passion itself in all its forms. 

Laena was only thankful his voice didn’t carry over their heads. She would have guessed it had,  but no one's expression had changed by his display. She did not have much time to be annoyed by his chastisement or feign innocence for they were all quickly drawn to the frail man who they called sire, brother, and husband. 

“I expect you in the capital for Jacaerys and Aemond’s name day.” The rumblings of dissent were heard echoing around the dock, but they were stamped out by a flourish of the man’s cursed cane which he wielded like any other scepter. 

For a moment she wished she could chuck it in the sea and watch. Would he command them to fetch it for him with that same voice he commanded them last night? Condemning her for it he would probably command that she go into its freezing depths to retrieve his stick.

No, he would not be so cruel, or rather that would not be his chosen method of punishment for her. No, he would simply order her presence by his side at this farce of a feast that he planned on forcing upon them all and make her promise that, Gods willing, if she birthed another babe of the weaker sex to betroth her to one of his grandsons. 

“I expect all of you there. We will celebrate both together.” All pretenses of speaking to the crowd were extinguished. The king tried to give his brother a stern eye, but it soon turned into an exasperated sigh when he waved Daemon away and motioned to his guard for support where his stick failed. 

“Safe travels mother,” The king, and most of his retinue were out of earshot though Laena doubted the former of the group of men would see the jeer in her tone or care much of it. She would receive no more of a scolding for it than she did last night. 

Her words seemed to have struck a chord with Alicent. Striking the woman through and rendering her speechless. Frozen, trapped in a world where ice was growing around her until Aemond broke the spell.

“I shall write to you cousin.” The boy had called out as he had finally parted from Rhaena’s side inbound for his dragon. 

“And I you.” If those green eyes could kill. Aemond would have been dead before Seasmoke took to the sky. 

“Do not expect to write to you, cousin.” Civility shredded when his mother had taken her leave of them with a renewed vigor was well out of reach to scold him. Boarding the boat with Ser Criston and the snake slithering behind them as much as he could, but his grandfather was not. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck as he hauled him onto their ship. Hissing at him to mind his manners as his dragon flew without him. 

Rhaenyra was the one who had broken the silence when ships and dragons were well within land and sea. She had somehow resumed her petting. 

“Uncle—”

“Go home back to Dragonstone Rhaenyra,” he smiled. It reached his eyes this time as the corners crinkled with unrestrained amusement. Green gaze shifted from Baela then back to Sunfyre overhead as he grew smaller in the distance. “While it is still yours.” 

Mayhaps Laena should have felt bad that her cousin was practically. However, she felt nothing but pure unadulterated triumph. A sweetness she could get used to.

She did not dare hide it. She might have looked like a mad woman as she grinned and grinned at the crestfallen look which boiled over to absolute loathing when Rhaenyra finally caught onto that grin, but she did not care. Not one bit.

Not until Daemon had turned to glare at her was she brought back to her own predicament and the fire-breathing dragon before her. 

One could hear one of the pins in her hair drop if she reached for it and pulled it while he yanked her from the docks without a single word passing from his lips. It went without saying that one could hear them after the little yelped at being dragged around as such. 

The air stiff with his ire. The journey back up to their chambers was quiet like a growing storm until they reached halfway up the spiral and ordered one of the maids they passed by to take the girls back to their own chambers for a nap. 

Baela had tried to protest it but she was ruled down by the iron fist of Daemon’s glare. That look silenced her as the serving girl did as she was told.

Without the children, his stride hastened. Practically racing down the hall as the flat of his nail beds dug into her wrist, having enough sense even in the midst of his choler to drag her back by her good hand. 

Laena would have kept going with him leading her like a dog, but his grip was boarding on painful and she detested being led around like a rag doll.

“You are hurting me.” He loosened it in that instant, lacking enough to lead, but he did not utter a word in apology nor did he slow his pace. It would have taken an act of the Gods for him to apologize. 

That would not do. He owed her more than silence. He owed her. 

“Daemon—”

“Do you know why the maester ordered you to stay  within the walls of our chambers, Laena?” He did not even look at her as he said so. Pulling her into their chambers with a small tug upon her arm. She knew she was not to escape his wrath, but when the guards shut the doors behind her the illusion that she somehow might escape if had gone with that quiet thud. 

“I am not a child Daemon.” She snapped. Letting her emotions get the best of her. Laena regretted it as soon as she saw that smile across his face.

“You behave as one.” She ignored that. Closing her eyes as she counted to ten. In and out with each breath till she felt that pull to scream at him leave her. 

He did not truly mean what he said. Laena knew he was scared more than anything else. For her. For the children and too proud to say so. 

“They like each other.” She need not say who they If she had said his name it would only send him further into the fit he was on the verge of. He was in if she were to be honest “Our daughter likes him.”

His smile grew. Cold thing it was despite the way it kissed his eyes. She ignored it. She knew he meant to rattle her, but she ignored him when he petted her like he would Baela. She hated it when he did that. Like she was some child in need of correcting some error. She would have liked his bark more than this. “She likes him husband.”

“He could not take his eyes off her at my brother's funeral.” He had seen that. How his eyes had darted between the dragons flying overhead and the girl at her mother's side. He had wanted both.

Daemon's tongue could speak falsehoods all he liked, but his eyes could not lie. The eyes could never lie. Not to her and not to himself. 

“They are children Laena.” Not a lie, but yet still another excuse. 

“They will not remain children forever.” 

“Precisely.”

“He is not a bad boy,” she tried once more, feeling the words catch in her throat in a strain. “He is your brother's son.” As if he needed the reminder. As if it would even 

“He is a mongrel.” It was not shocking, she knew how zealous her husband was about tradition. About their heritage, keeping their blood pure, making sure their girls had appropriate matches, he reminded her incessantly of it over the years. 

She was not immune to it. 

Laena may not have cared if their girls married as she had, but she did not want them to just marry anyone. She knew how he felt though she did wince at the low growl he let out when he spoke about the boy in such a matter. 

“He and his brother, they are all mongrels.” She did not know the pair well, any of them well for that matter, but she knew that they did not deserve that outburst. Not even a boy as wild as Aegon.

“They are your nephews Daemon. Your blood. Targaryen—” 

“Half.” He snarled. The words spit out as if they were poison. The thought of it, of them an offense to him

Laena reached out a hand to stroke down his face. It seemed to soothe him somewhat when the back of her knuckles dragged against the vein that ticked ticked ticked away in his jaw. 

She could take some comfort that he did not brush her off no matter how his eyes blazed and fire spat from his tongue. 

“As am I in case you have forgotten.” She drew circles into the hollows of his cheeks as she felt a sigh breath out onto her fingertips. 

It was a poor argument. Even she knew that as soon as it had left from her throat. 

Born into house Velaryon she may be, but she was Valyrian. Indisputably so. 

Her mother was Targaryen. Her mother's mother was a Baratheon and her mother was a Velaryon. The grandmother they shared. All the ancestors that they shared. Targaryen, Velaryon, Baratheons, it was all the same. It all came back around and looped over and over. She was a Valyrian root and branch. She was the unbroken blood of old Valyria. To Daemon that meant everything and no matter how old and high the Hightowers were, they were not Valyrian.

He would not hear it and so she would have to try again and again until he saw more than blood. 

“Aegon will be king and Rhaena does like Aemond Daemon and he likes her.” He gave out an ungallant snort, muttering to himself. Rolling his head underneath her palms in annoyance. "I am not saying it is love but they care for one another.” A childish fancy yes, but childish fancies can become something. Something more. “You can see that, your own brother can see that Alicent can see that.”   

What did it matter? They were children and she was not a fool, but love was rarely a thing that was. Love could grow. He could not argue with that. 

Daemon had not loved her when they were wed. He could say what he liked to her. That they had liked one another as soon as their worlds collided at her brother's wedding all those years ago, but they barely knew one another. 

The man was led almost solely by lusts and a want for a Valyrian bride then. Still, she liked to think that in those early days, he had been especially fond of her when she had given him Baela even if she was not the son he had longed for or she herself was not exactly what he had wanted then. 

Even at their worst, he had cared for her. Made sure she was safe and comfortable and that she and the children were well looked after.

Even if had been distant, lost within the demons which swarmed his mind he never had abandoned her, but had he loved her? 

She could not say that but she could say he loved her now. However they had begun, he could not live without her without losing himself.

Their love grew. Love was a thing that grew. How could he argue with that, but a man’s hubris was not so easily a yielding thing, love be damned. 

“Alicent does not care-” She would not let him finish that train of thought. Bringing her hands up to cup his face. Allowing her thumb to graze his stumble-coated cheeks, coaxing him to relax as he would her if he had any sense and was not blinded by his pride.

“Alicent cares for her children.” She was a mother. Laena knew mothers. She knew better than Daemon. “She would do anything for them.” It is why she had been desperate enough to seek out her mother. Why she was so willing to betroth her sons to their girls. 

She was not naive. Sure they were lovely girls, but the advantages they brought could not be overlooked. Dragons and battle-tested riders. Driftmark its wealth and the Velaryon fleet. 

Even Daemon had got her dragonstone in the course of a few minutes all without having to raise a single sword. Viserys may be a man prone to prioritizing his eldest, but he would hardly go back upon his word once given it and he would not deny Daemon or something so miserly after all this time. What was the betrothal of his sons he had overlooked to his younger brother's daughters that would inherit no title or lands now with a younger brother to inherit to him?

Oblivious fool as he was, by the time he realized its value, their value, he would be gone from this mortal realm and Aegon would be placed upon his throne.

“She wants them to be safe.” He huffed, it reminded her of a bull stalking his target, but he did not charge.  Glaring at her, but no word in contradiction passed from lips drawn into a thin line. 

Safety. The girls provided that. Safe against Rhaenyra and her need to consume everything in her path while her sire let her go on as she pleased. Safe against Daemon and his bloodlust and puerile grievances from a lifetime spent in said man’s shadow. The man before her could not be a threat if their daughter was married to the crown. 

The man before her scoffed once more, but she could see that flicker of light. A last line upon his softened sometime as he gazed down at her. “She wants to protect her children. She will do anything she can for that.” She should not even have had to say so, but the man was so blinded by hatred for his own blood because of the woman who had borne them. How could he hate them when they had the same? The same blood their children shared. 

“Do you not think she can not see your own desperation?” It was not cruel as only a few seconds, the venom was all but gone, but there was still that doubt. Still, that simmering magnum that fueled him with so much rage deep within his core and separated him from her was there. Just below the surface under the cold, but there nonetheless. 

“I wish for your happiness Daemon. It is the very air that I breathe. The air which I survive off of. I live for you. Your happiness and the children’s.” That stopped him as good as if she slapped him, but she couldn’t have been kinder. Sweeter. Full of honey. He liked when she was sweet and she liked being sweet to him, but she needed him to understand her and not behave as if he was a child having his toy taken away.  

“If that is my desperation and Alicent should see such then so be it, but do not pretend as if everything I do is without thought to you and our children.” She held him fast in her grip. His thumb had begun to draw circles into her wrists, but she had not felt that gentle touch trying to pull her into him to anchor her.

An urgency came about her that made her do so as if he might slip away like grains of sand between her hands. Gone to the storm that always seemed to surround her.

“Your daughter will be queen. Your grandson King. The uncontested heir to the Iron Throne.” Not the son of a bastard. The legitimate son of the rightful king. The blood of old Valyria reflected through and through. Unquestionable. Unimpeachable. “Alicent is a means to an end if she wishes to be blinded by her perception let her. Her desperation is not our own.”

“Lanea–” She would hear no more of it. 

“I do this for your legacy Daemon. Your—”

“Our legacy.” His hands now cupped her face as he met her urgency with his own. The sand stopped. It turned into something solid. Something that could not easily be blown away with the change of the wind. 

He kissed the tremble from her palms. Her cheeks which she had not known were tear-stained. Her temple lined by nerves. 

Anything within reach. anything to bring her back to him. “Ours Laena.” He whispered onto her brow hands now caressing her back as he swayed her to and fro. She did not mind it. It was better than an I am sorry sweet girl. Sweeter. 

She had forgotten he could be sweet too. Kind to her. 

Ours. Not his or hers. There’s. It was better than maybe. She could work with that. She could do with that. 

Their daughter  would be queen, her son, their grandson, would sit on the Iron Throne, and Rhaena would have Aemond and everything she wanted. Laena would see to that. They would see to that.

“Any other requests you should wish to make of me dearest wife.” His eyes had gotten that mischievous glint in them again as he pulled ever slightly to gaze down at her. Playful. Riant and something more yet. 

She had just one request. 

One which he had never acquiesced before, but he was trying. Trying for her. For the children. For them. Laena bit her lip. Parting them as she felt air fill her lungs. Rush through her whole body with its exuberance. 

Surely he would abide by this simple request for she knew not what he would do if he did not, but something in that smile, in the light of those green eyes which she knew better than her own the ones which their son had inherited told her she would not have to know. She would never have to know.

“I do not wish you to leave with my father.” He grinned. Beamed even. Rare and entirely for her that the light grew kissing the corners of his eyes with lines of life of hope.

“I was not planning to.” 

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