#now we can only say they are canon in an alternative universe

[thetorturedlovergirl]

I do think it’s so interesting how Nandermo can only be canon if Nandor is human. It’s the way he can finally express his feelings for Guillermo when the eternal life is not a heavy thought that affects the relationship.

They were happy, they were comfortable and most important, they were together. And that’s something that we will never see on screen with Guillermo as human and Nandor as vampire.

Do I like the way that alternative ending made the whole show a dream? Hell no, I fucking hate those types of endings, it’s the most overused and lazy ending someone could ever make. But it’s so important to me how it shows a life where they can be together without restrictions.

[rhaenyratargcryen]

you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 12

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i would just like to bring everyone's attention to the fact this fic is called tormented spirit. BTW some of yall might wanna read my weasely twins fluff cuz 😀 yeah you should read some fluff! leave comments/reblogs ok!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Since your sister's wedding, there were two things you no longer did: speak to your sister and go to your father. Everyday, instead of having the Lord Hand accompany you to your maester, you were accompanied by one of your wards.

At first, you were apprehensive with the change. After all, they were your knights, but neither of them were the father to your babe, and even fathers were rarely involved with prenatal care. Though, the patience they extended is not unusual, you were surprised that Erryk and Arryk took time asking the maester additional information concerning things that might need their attention in the future.

Today, you walk to the maester's ward, one hand on your belly the other on Erryk's bicep. As he opens the door, you freeze when you hear the voices in the room.

"Daughter." "Sister."

These words are spoken at the same time. You clench your teeth and turn to Erryk, whose jaw is set. You take a breath and decide to simply come back later.

Alicent stands the cot she sat upon and raises a hand, "please! I'm finished. You can come now."

Finished? Why is she being examined by the maester?

Otto is angered by your persistence to ignore them. He scowls and glares at Erryk, "you remind your princess to practice some humility," he points a finger, "her actions are affecting the queen, who is now carrying an heir."

Your face drops as you turn to her.

She is already staring at you. You watch her pick her nails. You catch the redness of her cuticles.

Erryk is equally shocked. He stutters before nodding in regard, "congratulations, my queen."

Alicent shakes her head, forcing a smile, "t-thank you, ser."

Your father's eyes remain on you. He waits for you to offer the same sentiment, but his anger only intensifies at your continued silence. He scoffs, "will you not even congratulate your sister?"

You clutch your pronounced belly and turn to your maester, "may we please do the examination? I cannot bear to stand for long."

Otto and Alicent watch you move past them. The latter is resigned to your commitment of not speaking to her, the former seethes and laughs dryly. He offers his arm to the queen, "come, daughter. Let us pray that your sister's impertinence is merely as side effect of childbearing."

Your sister spares you a glassy glance before taking Otto's arm and leaving with him. You watch as they leave, feeling yourself grow hard of breathing.

The maester asks you to sit, but before you do, you snatch his arm, "is she truly with child?"

He looks at your teary face. He feels the tremble of your hand as he places his own atop of it. He carefully speaks "it is joyous news, is it not?"

You release a shaky breath as he helps you sit.

"Princess," the maester warily says, "breathe for me. We cannot proceed if you overcome by your affliction."

You place both your hands on your belly and take a couple deep breaths. You close your eyes and resist the sob that threatens to come. A couple of tears wet your cheeks, but you manage to remain intact. You wipe your face and mutter to yourself, "it's barely been a moon since they've wed."

Your maester hears it though and offers, "your sister is blessed with a fertile womb."

You wish he had not tried to comfort you with such an idea.

You try not to think of Alicent as you do your daily examination, but she is all you think of. You think of how frightened she must be. You think of how your father surely told her about your daily visits to the maester. You wonder if he would force her to do the same, just to get you to talk to her. She wouldn't need daily examinations like you; she is perfectly healthy, stronger than you, as she said herself.

You are so deep in thought, you don't even realize the maester was finished with you, up until he says something that demands your full attention.

"What?" you knit your brows at him.

"We will be more certain of it as the moons wax and wane, but considering you are a twin yourself, and, again, because of the rather rapid growth of your belly, chances are my deduction is correct."

He helps you up and Erryk is quick to take your arm. You mutter through a shaky breath, "I'm carrying twins?"

Your maester nods, "highly likely."

You turn to Erryk, who offers you a reassuring smile, "I... congratulate you, my princess."

You stare at him for a moment and blink rapidly.

"You might give birth to a boy and girl who will have the same devotion you and your brother have," Erryk says in an attempt to take away some of the fear written across your face.

It does actually. You recall your visit to Oldtown and find yourself nodding, "I... I must write a letter at once."

Many moons come and go, but across the sea, the sun shines. Daemon's day has just started. His mood is nothing but sour, as it always is. He is loathe to start his day, but he does, and with a grunt, and leaves his tent to break his fast.

We eats with the Velaryons, Corlys, Vaemond, and Laenor, and though he did not hold any particular fondness for them, there was something in the way they all spoke in nothing but High Valyrian that made mornings not completely unbearable.

"My prince," Corlys greets him in their mother tongue. He hands Daemon a plate, "duck."

Daemon raises his brow at it, "with salt?"

"And pepper," Leanor says with a half-amused expression.

"My," Daemon sits down with them, "I am spoiled."

Corlys waits for Daemon to have a few bites before continuing conversation. He clears his throat, "before the day passes, allow me, my brother, and my son-" he looks between the said people, earning furrowed brows from Laenor, "-to greet you, both on behalf of House Velaryon, and as your comrade in battle for you—"

"Oh, yes!" Leanor interjects once he remembers, "congratulations, my prince!"

This earns him a look from his father, and his uncle. Laenor, who had been grinning, slowly raises his brows, "a-... apologies for interrupting, father."

Corlys sighs, "as I was-"

"And have we won the war overnight?" the prince says, rather uninterested, both in small talk and in his duck.

Corlys is confused by this, "I... no." He slowly tilts his head, "does your lady wife not write to you?"

Daemon is immediately on edge at the mention of you, "and what of her?"

Corlys narrows his eyes. He puts him to the test, "... you are aware your brother, the king, has remarried?"

Daemon whips his head his direction.

"And that also he expects an heir to be delivered come spring?"

"Remarried?!" Daemon repeats in offence, "and which scheming cunt managed to tricked him into marriage?"

Corlys turns to Vaemond, who turns to Leanor, who turns back to Corlys. The latter clears his throat, "your bride's sister, my prince."

His eyes widen. He looks between the Velaryons, then scoffs dryly. He begins to laugh, "that roach of a Hand has Viserys's bollocks shoved down his fucking throat."

Their faces contort at the foul language. Vaemond, in particular, is so offended that he cannot help but ask, "doesn't the princess write to you every day?"

Daemon clenches his plate

"And she never mentioned thi—"

"WHAT USE HAVE I TO READ THE WEEPY WRITING OF MY WIFE?!" the prince snaps, coming to a stand as he chucks his plate to the ground.

Corlys understands then Daemon's initial shock. However, he is still confused, "have you not read any letters from your wife?"

"Would you rather I be distracted, Corlys?" he snaps again, hands now clenched into fists.

Corlys is not intimidated by Daemon's anger, but he is also unincited by the idea a fight. He raises his hands in surrender, "most men gladly welcome distractions in the heat of war."

Daemon chuckles dryly, "I am not most men," then storms all the way back to his tent.

"Jiōragon hen ñuha ñuhoso!" he snaps in High Valyrian still, shoving the unwitting soldier aside. Get out of my way!

He returns to his tent. Another unwitting victim is there. "My prince," he bows, "a letter from Lady H-" Daemon snags the letter from him and shoves him away with exceeding anger and force.

He enters his tent and immediately chucks the letter to the floor, as if it was a vase he intended to shatter into a million pieces. It doesn't, of course; the paper remains intact, along with its seal. He crushes it beneath his heel then grabs the sack containing all your unread letters. He empties it on the floor and violently begins to stomp all over them.

You were his. You were meant to be his! Yet here you were, a pawn in someone else's game. His lust and infatuation has blinded him from this truth. You and your sister were mere tools of your cunt father to manipulate the throne.

He continues to trample your letters until they are brown with the dirt. He catches a lone letter that managed to evade his violence. He picks the unscathed object and only now does he realize its red waxen seal had an imprint of a dragon with a long neck that resembled Caraxes. Daemon scoffs, even his dragon you covet.

He breaks the seal. The letter was sent nearly a moon ago.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔴. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢; ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢, 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢

A good place to raise children?! He scoffs and crumples the paper away. You fantasize of bearing his seed now? He laughs at the idea, chucking the paper across his tent. His amusement goes dry when he realizes it must be your father's ploy.

He's read enough.

Back in the Keep, you too receive a letter. It is from Gwayne, whose weekly response has finally arrived. You do not mind that he does not write to you daily as you did; you are grateful to receive a response at all.

You were set on reading his response, but as is was, you were experiencing terrible nausea and found yourself unable to sit or lie still. For some reason, the only thing that could combat this was walking around. You instead had your ward read your brother's words aloud for you.

Arryk's eyes trail back and forth you and your letter. He comes to your side when you gag, "princess."

You place a hand on your mouth, walking away from him. He watches as you circle your bed, "perhaps, I-"

"Please," you sigh, "do not make me beg you to read it."

Arryk stiffens and shakes his head, "my apologies, your grace." He turns to the parchment, "my twin."

" Louder," you grunt as you momentarily lean on your bed.

"My twin," Arryk repeats slightly louder, "I pray that your health is good, that you have been eating and sleeping as goodly as you did in the days of your visit here."

You take a deep breath and walk towards nothing in particular.

"While I confess a certain light has been lost in the halls of our Oldtown home since your leave, I..." your ward knits his brows, "disagree with your sentiments to return."

"What?" you gasp softly, turning to Arryk.

He looks at you and hesitates, "I... will not honey my words: you disappoint me with your coldness towards our youngest."

You clench your teeth as you feel another gag coming up, "fucking, Gwayne."

"She has written to me more than once to lament your severed relations since she's wed."

Your scoff makes Arryk pause. You look at him as you walk over, "do not stop."

He looks at you as you walk past him. He clears his throat, "I did not speak of it until now, for I believed you to be wiser than your betrayal."

"Ha!" you scoff, eyes immediately watering, "incorrigible pest," you grunt and rub your belly. You pace faster, "unyielding. Unfeeling."

Arryk watches you pace and takes a few steps back and forth so to remain arms reach of you.

"Continue!"

He stiffens, "I—," he turns back to your brother's words, "you've written you believe it will be better for you both that you away, lest your childbearing interlope with hers. I disagree. Consider me a fool-"

"He is," you scratch your eyes.

"-a man who knows nothing of childbirth, which I am, but I know my sisters— I know you at the very least." Arryk watches you as he says the next words, "leaving Alicent will haunt you, your satisfaction short-lived."

You stop in your tracks. You feel your dress tighten around you.

"Lay down your pride and allow yourself to reach for your sister who understands your struggle unlike anyone in the Seven Realms now more than ever."

You feel sick, sicker.

"Upon doing so, see then if you still wish to come to home."

You heave as you continue walking around.

"I offer many prayers to the Mother for both you and our sister. We are truly grown from the same womb, for I too share in your hope that you give birth to a twin boy and girl."

You rub your belly, as the thought softens you a fraction.

"Mostly, I speak thanks and praise for I am to be doubly an uncle. I pray your births come timely and smoothly, and I pray the Lord Hand has extended nothing but gentleness to you both," he folds the paper, "Your Twin."

"See now," you turn to Arryk, "even my twin betrays me, abandons me," you feel tears run down your cheek.

He slowly walks towards you, "that is not what he's done, my princess."

"Then what?!" you shake your hands, "am I not allowed even my anger now?!"

He is taken off guard when you shove him back.

"Even you are against me!"

Arryk steps back, though you barely mustered enough force for him to need to. You quickly pace around again. He feels the flesh beneath his steel you touched begin to push. His lips part "do not accuse me so harshly."

You whip your head back, glaring at him with red eyes, "SHE COULD HAVE BEEN MARRIED TO A LORD IN THE RIVERLANDS! OR HIGHGARDEN!" You throw your hand out, "ANYWHERE BUT HERE, BUT HERE SHE IS!"

His face falls when your rage makes you crumble. He gasp your name out as he catches you just before you fall.

"And for what?!" you wheeze as you are dragged to your bed. You rip at your collar as your chest tightens and tightens and tightens, "for me?"

"Princess," the knight's voice breaks with worry as he sits you down, "I beg you, ple-"

"Undress me," you mutter as you strugggle for air, "unlace my dress, I-"

He does not wait. He is quick to undo your bodice. He is so frantic, he nearly cuts your ties.

You moan as you feel a pressure leave you. You rip your dress off you, thinking of nothing else but catching your breath. Arryk helps you undress and you find it slightly easier to breath once you are left in nothing but your chemise.

Your ward struggles with himself; he does not wish to take advantage of this moment to ogle you, but he also cannot avert his gaze completely, lest you need his assistance. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze to his lap, muttering your name softly.

"Never mind my inadequacies, Arryk," you sigh in between deep breaths, "never mind that I will forever be second best to my father, who even wed me to his greatest enemy... who I am to make grandsire to not one but two Targaryen babes."

"Princess," he shakes his head, "I do not wish to-"

"I am used to his insistence of my dimness," you rub your chest, "of my capacity only for tears and succumbing to my own pain," your lips wobble, "but my sister—"

He stiffens and turns to you as lean into him. Your breath is too short and your head too heavy for you to keep yourself upright. Arryk calls our your name as he shifts, bringing his arm around to pull you upright.

"No," you wince, feeling a sharp pain in your belly, "hold me please."

He is immediately alarmed by how you clutch your side, "princess, are you-"

"Please," you rest your head on his armor, "hold me, even if you do not want to."

His hand twitches before, placing it your bare arm. He leans close, close enough to press his lips on your head, but he does not dare. He rubs your skin and whispers, "I want for nothing else."

You are too distracted by yourself that you do not hear him. Uncomfortable as the feel of his armor was, he lulls you into calmness.

When you feel well enough to realize how compromising it would be if someone were to witness you both, you pull away.

He says nothing, does nothing. He simply sit besides you, taking in your sad face.

You a tear drip from the tip of your nose. You rub it away before mumbling, "I had well-made plans for her... plans to shield her, to prosper her."

His eyes fall. He looks at the hand you had on your lap and dares to take it. It is cold and clammy, which is why he rubs it, eager to spread warmth.

The gesture makes goosebumps form on your arms. It makes your breath hitch, but not in a painful way. His gentleness encourages you to continue, "I once thought she looked up to me," you sniffle, "but when she said she was stronger than I," you lower your head.

He frowns.

"I knew then," you look back at him, "she sees only my weakness, along with the rest of the world."

He cannot help himself. He reaches for your cheek and wipes your tears.

You lean into his touch, "I can be strong, Arryk," you both his hands and squeeze them to prove a point, "can you not feel it?"

The gesture makes his heart break. He squeezes your hands in return, "you need not prove such a thing to me," he rubs your skin with his thumbs, "perhaps she does not want you to be strong... not for her."

You huff, "I am her older si-"

"But for your babe."

You are frozen by his words. You open your mouth but find nothing to say.

"Your brother," he gives you a solemn expression, "he says he prays the Lord Hand extends his gentleness to you, but I wonder if all that remained of his gentleness manifested into his daughters' beings."

The thought brings a tear from your eye, "Arryk."

"My princess."

"Should I speak to my sister come the morrow?"

He squeezes your hand again before slowly nodding.

The next day, you do everything in your power to do just that. You found Alicent breaking her fast, but you did not want to inadvertently ruin her appetite with your sudden appearance, for you knew how fickle it was in these times. Later, you found her in her chambers napping, but you didn't wish to interrupt her then either.

The rest of the day, you started feeling unwell, and you could not find it in you to leave your own chambers. When you finally did, the sun had set and Alicent was nowhere to be found. As a last resort, you ventured to the king's chambers.

Erryk announces you once you reach Viserys's door. You look at your knight with apprehension but he only returns a reassuring nod. There is a rather... sickly smell that assaults your senses when the door opens. The king himself answers, brows quirked in surprise.

"My king," you barely manage a curtsy. Erryk nods, "your grace."

Viserys regards you both then asks, "what brings you to my chambers at this hour?"

"I wanted to know if my sister was here," you absentmindedly rub your belly, "I wish to speak to her."

The king catches your belly, "oh, yes." He places a hand on your shoulder, "you are also with child," he chuckles, "I keep forgetting to congratulate you face to face."

You are taken aback by the half-hug he pulls you into.

Viserys chuckles as he pulls away, "well done, my dear. You have made the realm, and more importantly my brother, all the more richer for this."

You are rigid as he beckons you inside. Viserys motions to Erryk dismissively, and he nods. You wards gives you a silent look, and you know he'll wait for you outside.

Once you enter, you are assaulted by a scent that has clearly been attempted to be masked by fragrances. It makes you gag slightly, but it is not so bad that you cannot comport yourself.

You had expected to be lead to your sister, but instead, the king leads you to a massive diorama of what you could tell to be King's Landing.

"I am unsure where my wife is presently-"

His regard to your sister makes you clench your jaw.

"-but she visits me oft at this time of hour. Might as well show you my miniature figurines whilst waiting," he grins as he motions to the said object.

You feel an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach as you walk over to him.

Viserys immediately beams over his creation, recounting the trouble he had carving out the tower, exclaiming how much he enjoyed shaping the bridge. You have never seen him in such a light and it makes you wonder if this was his true self. Did he regard your husband this way? What were they like as children?

As he handed you two separate failed attempts of carving his fallen dragon, Balerion, you listen to him muse how the beast's skull was preserved in the basement bellow, and how he would gladly bring you there if you wanted to see. You groan and slightly lurch when another painful sensation ripples within you.

Viserys notices this. He quickly takes the figurines from you, "oh, where are my manners," he pulls a chair to your side, "sit, sit."

You gratefully take a seat and take a couple deep breathes as the king continues to drone about his diorama.

"You know, I used to make toy soldiers for Daemon growing up. I was aghast when he came back to me with severed heads."

You chuckle at his words, but instantly regret it when it adds to your pain.

"I still made him new ones, but this time, I put less effort and detail," Viserys speaks before noticing your reaction, "are you alright?"

"Mmm," you shake your head, "I think my babes are moving."

His brows quirk, "ah. That's right. You are expecting twins, are you not?"

You release a sigh when the uncomfortable sensations finally wane. You take a breath and offering a smile, "so says my maester. I hope it to be a boy and girl, like me and Gwayne."

He smiles, "it is quite fortunate that you and your sister are to have children at the same time," he looks over his miniature castle, "don't you think?"

"I think..." you turn to your belly, another groan leaving your lips, "Alicent is not ready to have children."

Viserys turns to you.

You look up at him and purse your lips, "nor am I."

He chuckles softly, "none of us are," he places a hand on your shoulder, "but I assure you, you learn as you go."

You find no comfort in his words.

"You know who has been ready though," he raises a finger, "Daemon."

The thought nearly makes you flinch.

He chuckles, "do not look so averted. There is gentleness in him," he turns back to his diorama, "do you not perceive it?"

You begin to feel sick.

"I tell you, when Rhaenyra was born, his face shone."

Your brows tighten at the smile the king offers you.

"I could tell as he held my child, he thought her the most precious thing in the worlds," Viserys face softens, "I could tell he wanted to have something precious to hold as his own," he absentmindedly examines a chisel, "the gods bless me with a wife who is going to birth me something precious," he turns to you, "and a good-sister who is going to birth my brother something doubly precious."

His words make your heart tinge. You are blindsided by how genuine, how vulnerable your conversation is. You wonder if Alicent saw this amidst the cruelty of the world and decided to settle for it rather than the uncertainty from another man. As he falls deeper into another fond tale of his brother, you feel a dull pain spread across your hips.

"That reminds me," he claps his hands, "do you have any names picked out yet?"

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, "well... I've-" you huff, "gone through some books that held Valyrian names," you inhale, "and found a few names for boys, namely Vaerus,—"

"Ah, Vaerus," Viserys repeats, "meaning genuine."

"Eadan—"

He grins and points, "little fire."

"—and Alaeric," you huff.

"Hmm," he turns to the ceiling in thought, "no, I don't know that one."

You are restless because of your pain. You groan as you stand, "I- mmm- prefer the last one the most because it is similar to my mother's name, and I should like to name my boy and girl after her."

He chuckles, "you seem quite set on a boy and a girl."

"Mmm," you hum uncomfortably, "I- I hope for it." You rub your belly, "I hope they have fondness for each other like me and mine own twin."

He knits his brows at your demeanor, "a son and a daughter would suit you well," he smiles fondly, "what was the name of your late mother again?"

"A-" you groan, "Alyrie."

Viserys finally reaches for you, "are you quite certain you're alright?"

You hum as you take the king's bicep, squeezing him tightly, "mmm, I should like to lie down now."

"Yes, of course," he shakes his head, leading you to the door.

Just before you can reach the entrance, a great pain forces you to lurch forward and yelp. You grip onto Viserys's arm for dear life and he grips you with hands. He thinks to grab the chair he pulled for you again, but as he looks back , his eyes widen at the trail of blood that leads to it. "GUARD! GUARD!"

You are in too much pain to react to the king's screams. You can only screw your eyes shut.

Erryk bursts through the doors, face white, heart racing.

"CALL THE MAESTER AT ONCE! SHE'S BLEEDING!"

Your eyes widen at the word, "bleeding?" You momentarily manage to gather enough wits to see what Viserys was speaking of.

Erryk does not linger in his horror. He bolts out and sprints down the halls, screaming for a maester as if his life depended on it because yours did.

The sight of your blood is mortifying. You lift your skirt as pain continues to seizes and a horrified noise leaves you when you find the red that pools by your foot.

It all happens at once after. An ache so great forces you to the floor. You are burning hot yet shivers run down your spine. You do not know if Viserys is speaking as you slowly crumple your knees but you do know that you are screaming loud.

Then it passes. Serenity ebbs and flows. You manage to sit on your but, but then it's back with a vengeance. You resist the squeal that morphs into to a shriek and then— you gasp, "no."

Viserys watches, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms watches as you rip your skirt up and tear your ruined undergarments down, powerless.

Your scream makes his stomach curdle.

Your hands tremble as you reach for the two small bodies between your thighs. You bring them into your chest, uncaring of all else, how wet they are, how red stains you, how Viserys speaks your name. Your babes are are small; they are both far, far too small.

Anguish draws more noises from your throat. It doesn't take long until your voice is hoarse. You cannot keep your peace as you take in their tiny faces. You wipe them with your skirt, finding the silver of their brows and lashes. You also find the gods gave you a girl and a boy. You choke on a sob as you wipe the red away from their thin, white locks, "please wake for your mummy."

The words arrest Viserys. He recalls holding Baelon as life left him. He cherishes now more than ever that at least his boy gazed upon him once. He shares in your misery, yet does not know if how he should approach you; he does not know if he should. He does anyway, no matter how haunting the sound of your wails are.

You quiet momentarily as the man crouches beside you. Your lips wobble, "p-perhaps they'll wake up if you speak High Valyrian."

The thought is gutting.

You gently pull at one babe's eyelid, finding a violet eye looking back at you. Except it isn't looking at you at all and the thought makes you squall. You clutch your children tightly into your chest, rocking them back and forth, "forgive me, my loves. Forgive me for birthing you too soon."

Erryk finally arrives with the maesters. He is stunned in his spot whereas the maesters run to your side. He falls to his knees as lift your children up. They do not touch them, but instead look at each other before muttering something that makes you pull your twins back into your chest.

Your ward is ashamed to face you. He has failed you. Erryk comes to a stand and dares to come near you. You do not notice him. You do not care for anything or anyone else in this moment.

Crimson grief trails behind you as you make your way to the maester's ward. Erryk meant to carry you, but you refused, knowing the walk there would be the last time you'd ever get to hold your children. He silently walks beside you, eyeing your every move.

You freeze when you see your sister by the door. Erryk looks between the two of you, ready to give you space.

Alicent is distraught. Her eyes are nearly as red as yours and you can how her hands tremble even as she picks at them, "sister, I-"

"I wanted to talk to you earlier today."

Her face falls and she immediately runs up to you. She reaches for you but stops herself.

You frown at it, thinking it was because you had been cruel to her, "forgive me, sister."

She rapidly shakes her head, "do not even mention it."

A tear fog your vision, "very well," you sniffle as you lower your gaze, "would... would you like to see them?

She wordlessly agrees.

You step closer to her, "this is Alaeric... and Alyrie."

A hand comes to her mouth, "sister."

"They're perfect, are they not?"

She nods rapidly, "yes—" she shudders, "they are."

You sob with her as she brings her arms around you. Erryk cannot bare the sight. Hot tears run into his armor. Both him and Alicent stay with you as the maester's see to your health. They let you hold Alaeric and Alyrie until your examination commences, and then you confess that if they do not take them now, you will never let them be taken from you ever again.

You were exhausted as you lie in bed. Your body yearned for repose, but you could do nothing of the sort. You groggily stand and walk to your door.

Erryk starts. You caught him in the middle of scratching tears away from his eyes. You frown, "forgive me."

"No, princess," he shakes his head and turns to you, "how might I serve."

You bite your lip, hating yourself for what you were about to request, "I know it is terrible..." you sigh deeply, "I know it is inappropriate, and wrong, and an abuse of my power over you," you tremble, "but please you sleep with me."

"My princess, I-"

"Please," you raise a hand, "if it is too horrible, per- perhaps-" you hiccup, "you can drag the set— the settee beside my bed-"

He silences you by taking your raised hand. You continue to sob as he shakes his head, "I would do anything you ask of me."

You sob and throw your arms around him. Erryk embraces you back, though he was afraid his hard uniform might hurt you.

Otto sees this exchange from across the hall. He had not been moved to tears until this moment. He scratches his eyes before they fall and steels himself away as he walks off. He mentally takes note to observe the Cargyll brothers and to sternly remind them of their vows.

Erryk follows you to your bed. You crawl into your bed as he drags the settee from across the room beside you. You offer him a pillow and he gratefully take it. You knit your brows when he lies down. You sniffle, "will you not take your armor off?"

"I..." he start, about to explain it is inappropriate.

"Is it hard to remove by yourself?" you sit up, "I can help."

"I-" but his words go dry when you begin to undo his steel uniform with much ease.

All your years assisting Gwayne in and out of his armor has made the act come easy for you. You think nothing of it, but Erryk's heart races as you undo his chest plate. He sucks in a sharp breath as you put the metal down, then refuses your help, resigning to undo the rest himself.

You sink into your sheets as you watch your knight lay his armor down. It occurs to you in this moment that this was the first time you'd ever seen him without it. Even through his loose dress shirt, you can see his defined arms and torso. You even see a sliver of a scar from where his shirt opened on his chest and it makes you avert your gaze, knowing you've looked where you should not have.

Your lips begin to wobble as you think of Daemon and the scars he had on his skin. You feel pathetic as you begin to sob again.

Erryk hates the sound. He sits down on the settee and sniffles, "would you like me to sing for you?"

You wipe the snot on your philtrum as you look at him.

"I do not think I inherited her voice, but my mother used to sing to my brother and I when we were younger."

The word mother makes you feel sick, but you do not tell him that, and simply nod.

He clears his throat and takes a breath, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head."

A chuckle is drawn amidst your tears as Erryk continues to sing.

"The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

You ask him to repeat this song over and over and he humors you each time.

The day breaks and Arryk comes to your door for his shift. He holds a basket of flowers and a frown. He knocks on your door and announces himself. He is surprised when he hears footsteps approaching. His eyes widen when Erryk opens the door for him. His mouth falls at the messiness of his hair, then it clicks. Arryk nearly drops his basket as he grabs his twin by the collar, "what in seven hells have you done, you fool?"

Erryk is stoic as he responds, "my duty."

"Your-" he looks over his shoulder and pushes his brother into the room, closing the door behind him. Arryk makes sure to keep the silence and spares you a quick glance. The sight of your sleeping form makes him slightly soften, but he still manages to glare at his brother, "did you sleep here?"

Erryk turns to you, "she asked-"

"Did you sleep with her?" Arryk snaps.

The twins glare at each other. Erryk's face contorts in disgust, "I slept on the settee, brother. What do you take me fo-"

"I take you for a fool!" Arryk quips under his breath as he points an accusing finger.

Erryk scoffs, clenching his fist, "and you would have left?"

"I would have waited for her to sleep and resumed my post outsi-"

"Please."

The twins turn, finding you sitting on your bed, rubbing your puffy face. They both instinctively step forward and speak in unison, "princess."

"Please," you repeat, "I asked him to stay."

Arryk turns to Erryk.

"I do not want you to argue because-" you cannot continue because you begin to cry.

Both their faces fall, but Erryk wastes no time in coming to you. He kneels beside your bed and takes your hand, repeating the song he sang to you last night.

Arryk immediately recognizes the tune. His heart tightens as he watches the display. He mutters under his breath, "what have you done?" He walks over to him and watches the way you squeeze his brother's hand. He thinks of how you did the same for him just yesterday and clenches the basket's handle tightly. He begins to sing with his twin.

"The fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head.

The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

These are the very words you sing to your sister's son.

Alicent was with child again, and you were giving her a much needed reprieve from her energetic boy who was now nearing his second name day. Aegon happily reached for flowers as you carried him through the gardens. He laughs with not a care in the world. It is strange how deeply happy and deeply sad the boy makes you feel.

Through it all, you smile as you sing. You bounce him in your hip once you finish, "right, shall we go back now?"

Aegon blissfully ignores you when his hand brushes against a flower. You pull him away before he can grab it, and push his hand down, "no, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."

Aegon cares little for your words and raises his hand again, "flower!"

You push his hand down and look at him, "you want the rose?" You adjust him in your arm, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"

"Mummy?" Aegon repeats, turning to you to reach for your brown curls.

You chuckle when he tries to eat it and pull your hair away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you.

[kamisatomay018]

Thinking about Zayne

Something that always intrigues me about Zayne is the fact that so far, he is the only love interest who canonically has more than one variation of him existing at the same time.

Like maybe I’m over analysing but bear with me here-

- Xavier doesn’t have incarnations as such, he is over 200 years old himself so he has experienced everything we know about him so far in one single lifetime. He has been with multiple versions of MC, but he hasn’t forgotten anything, because he’s the ONLY version of himself we know of so far (Xavier girlies if I’m wrong feel free to correct me)

- Rafayel has had many reincarnations and lifetimes with several MCs, but he remembers every one of them. However, he has single-handedly been the god of sea, abysswalker, and the other lifetimes in his memories that we have had a glimpse at. What’s important to note is that he has died and been reincarnated. Two versions of him didn’t exist at the same time.

- Now we don’t really know much about Sylus, but from what we have gathered from his memories so far, he has definitely died in one lifetime or more, and MC has been there to witness it. He obviously knows way more about MC, because like every other love interest he too had a history with her. However, I doubt there have been any indications so far of there being another version of him out there somewhere.

However, Zayne is a special case.

First and foremost, Dawnbreaker’s existence in itself is the weirdest thing ever. How is it that he exists in an alternate universe, one which is set in the future technically speaking, but both Dawnbreaker and Zayne know about each other and Dawnbreaker once even managed to very briefly take over Doctor Zayne’s consciousness, leading MC to say the infamous line “You’re not Dr. Zayne. Who are you?”

They exist at the same time which is really very interesting to me because their worlds are so drastically different from each other’s.

Then we have Foreseer. As Astra’s tool, he cannot die. He is sealed, perhaps in some form of never ending sleep but he can be awoken. Which is what I think Zayne tries to research about on his trips to Mt. Eternal where foreseer’s tower could be. And let’s not forget that Foreseer knew about a Zayne, as it was written in his book about botany and caring for flowers. It is also believed that Foreseer or some future version of Zayne is actually helping him find a solution to breaking Astra’s curse; even if it means that his future self will cease to exist.

And then we have Master of Fate. Now listen- he was a literal GOD. And yes ik you could say that even Rafayel as a god did die but! There was literally no hint ever that master of fate died. In fact; MC even said that as long as there is the mountain and the tree, Zayne will always be there. So even master of fate could potentially be alive.

Imagine y’all like 4 fucking Zayne’s being alive and ALL of them fall for MC. Like.

But why and how are there so many variations of him alive at the same time? Dawnbreaker’s existence puzzles me the most because he doesn’t even have any direct relation to any of this, his world is totally different. And the amount of emphasis on him is also very sus.

I swear if even one of them dies I’m throwing hands at INFOLD!😭

Anyway I’d love to know your thoughts about this so feel free to lemme know in the comments, and please do fill me in if I’m missing something!🫶

[mononijikayu]

i love you so — nanami kento.

One evening, as you watched the sunset together from your porch, Kento spoke, his voice filled with a sense of finality and peace. "I didn’t think I’d live long enough to retire from all of this." he admitted, the hint of a smile on his lips. "But being here with you… it feels like we’ve made it." You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. "We did," you whispered. "And now, we can live the life we always dreamed of." Kento’s arm wrapped around you, pulling you close. "I couldn’t have done any of this without you, sweetheart." he said quietly. "Thank you… for staying." You closed your eyes, the sound of the waves crashing softly in the distance. "There’s nowhere else I’d rather be."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Post-Shibuya Arc, R-18, Smut, Oral (F! Receiving) P to V Sex, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband;

WORDS: 6.8k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is was in a queue. i remember having a bad stomach ache writing this and just really giving up on writing because i really was not having a good day. this is not the last we'll see of sorcerer nanami. and god, we deserve a lot of fix-its for the ending. i'll give it to yall once the exam era is over. the upcoming stuff will be from queued up stuff. but thank you for being patient. i love you all!!! enjoy <3

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safe and sound | i love you so

next: say so.

YOU WERE GLAD THAT YOUR HUSBAND WAS LIVE. From this moment on, you knew that there was nothing but relief now. Sleepless nights in recovery as he gets better, staying by his side most days as he tries to get himself better every single day. You yourself halted any production on your upcoming book, taking leave despite the amount of workload that you have to deal with. None of that mattered.

You just wanted to be there for your husband. Everything else can wait. Every little bit of the world can stop. You just wanted to be here with your husband. He was your everything. You did not want to miss a single thing. Because the gods know you were only happier, more relieved, knowing your husband is alive. Kento was here, and that was all you were happy about. 

As you sat by Kento's bedside, the room was quiet, save for the occasional beep of the medical equipment. His chest rose and fell in steady, rhythmic motions, a reassuring sign that he was slowly, but surely, recovering. You held his hand tightly, feeling the warmth of his skin, and that alone was enough to soothe the ache that had been gnawing at your heart for weeks.

"You're still here." Kento's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of both surprise and gratitude. “Sweetheart, I was going to be out later today. They would have called you.”

"Of course I am." you replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. " And that hardly matters. I’m not going anywhere."

Kento gave a small, tired smile, his fingers curling weakly around yours. "You should be working on that book of yours… your editor—"

"She can wait. None of that matters. You know that." you interrupted gently, squeezing his hand. "You’re more important."

He sighed, a blend of relief and exasperation. "You’re going to get in trouble."

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "Let them be mad. I’m not missing a single moment of this, Kento. I almost lost you." Your voice trembled slightly, betraying the depth of your fear. "I don’t care about anything else right now. Just you."

His eyes softened as he looked at you, a quiet understanding passing between you both. "I’m sorry, sweetie." he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "For worrying you."

"You don’t have to be, my love." you whispered. "You’re here. That’s all that matters. And I’ll be here every step of the way. Every appointment, every session with Ieiri–san, every movement therapy… I’ll be there."

Kento closed his eyes briefly, the weight of your words sinking in. "Thank you," he said after a long pause, his voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "We’re in this together." you whispered. "And I’m not going anywhere."

Months passed, and with each day, Kento grew stronger. The slow but steady process of recovery, while challenging, had brought you even closer. You watched with quiet pride as Kento regained his strength, the grueling hours of movement therapy gradually paying off.

His once rigid, exhausted frame was replaced by the poised and determined man you had always known. There was a renewed warmth in his smile, one that hadn’t been there for so long—a smile that reflected the inner peace he was beginning to find.

Shoko's treatments had been a blessing, and the relief of hearing the doctors say that Kento no longer needed constant hospital visits lifted a tremendous weight off your shoulders. The news that he only needed to check in every few months was like music to your ears. He was coming home, truly home.

As you stepped through the door of your house, Kento at your side, it felt like you were walking into a new chapter of your lives. The space felt different now—warmer, more alive.

You could already picture your mornings together, the sound of soft footsteps as Kento would sneak out early for his morning ritual of visiting the neighborhood market. You imagined him returning with a fresh loaf of bread tucked under one arm, and a bottle of fresh cow milk in the other, his face calm and content in the simple act of shopping.

On the first morning he was well enough, Kento insisted on preparing breakfast. You tried to offer help, but he gently waved you off, a small smile on his lips. "Let me take care of this," he said, his tone warm but firm. "You've done more than enough for me."

You watched him move around the kitchen, still a bit slow, but determined. The smell of fresh eggs and toast filled the air, mingling with the quiet hum of morning. The way he set the table, with such careful deliberation, made your heart swell. It was perfect. Simple, but perfect.

Breakfasts became a cherished part of your daily routine, something so small, yet filled with an endless sense of joy. Kento would tell you about the sights he saw at the market, or the latest book he’d started reading at the park nearby.

The two of you would sit by the window, the sunlight spilling in, and laugh about little things, about nothing at all. It was in those moments, you felt time slow down, allowing you to savor every second.

There were no more looming threats, no more hospitals or sleepless nights. Just the quiet, steady rhythm of life together, a life you had both fought so hard to protect. The weight of the past, though never forgotten, had softened into something you could live with.

"You know," Kento said one morning, his voice cutting through the soft clink of breakfast dishes, "I never thought I’d be able to do this again. Just… enjoy the small things."

You looked up from your cup of tea, meeting his eyes. "It’s the small things that matter most," you replied gently. "And I’m just happy that we get to enjoy them together."

Kento nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. "I wouldn’t have made it without you," he said, his voice full of quiet gratitude.

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "We made it through together. That’s all that matters."

In the silence that followed, the world felt right. No grand gestures, no dramatic moments. Just you, Kento, and the simple joy of being together. Nothing felt more right than this. Your husband let his own cup of tea rise towards his lips. As he took a sip, he put it away to the side.

"Do you remember what I told you about Malaysia?" he asked, his voice low, but filled with a calm certainty.

You nodded, already knowing where this was going. "How could I forget? You always spoke about wanting to settle there, once everything was over."

Kento glanced at you, his gaze thoughtful and tender. "Well, now that I’m officially done with Jujutsu… I think it’s time." He looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. "I’ve always dreamed of living somewhere quieter, where we can have a little peace. No more exorcisms, no more danger." He paused, his eyes meeting yours again. "What do you think?"

The mere thought of a life far from the chaos of Tokyo made your heart ache with hope. "I think it's perfect. A fresh start, just the two of us." you replied softly, your hand finding his. “And I can work from there. My job isn’t going to be a problem, my love.”

Kento squeezed your hand gently, his expression one of contentment. "You’ve been by my side through everything. Now, I want us to live for ourselves. To finally have that peace we both deserve."

A few weeks later, after countless preparations and farewells, the two of you found yourselves on a flight to Kuantan, Malaysia. As the plane descended, the sight of lush greenery, the vast ocean, and the golden sun made you both smile. It felt like the promise of a new beginning.

Once settled in a small, cozy house near the beach, Kento seemed more at ease than you had seen him in years. His once-tense shoulders were relaxed, and his usual seriousness was softened by the tranquility of your new surroundings. You spent your days walking along the shoreline, enjoying the warm breeze, and talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as you watched the sunset together from your porch, Kento spoke, his voice filled with a sense of finality and peace.

 "I didn’t think I’d live long enough to retire from all of this." he admitted, the hint of a smile on his lips. "But being here with you… it feels like we’ve made it."

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. "We did." you whispered. "And now, we can live the life we always dreamed of."

Kento’s arm wrapped around you, pulling you close. "I couldn’t have done any of this without you, sweetheart." he said quietly. "Thank you… for staying."

You closed your eyes, the sound of the waves crashing softly in the distance. "There’s nowhere else I’d rather be."

EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT LIKE THIS. The days in Kuantan unfold with a rhythm that feels almost surreal after all that you have been throughMornings begin with the soft call of birds and the gentle hum of the ocean, a sound that soothes the remnants of tension in both of you.

You often wake up before the sun rises, taking comfort in the sight of Kento beside you—his expression unguarded, his brow no longer furrowed in worry. The air is warm, yet fresh, carrying the scent of the sea into your room.

The two of you have created a ritual of watching the sunrise together. Wrapped in a light blanket, you step out onto the balcony, where the sky slowly transforms from deep indigo to a golden hue.

The sight of it never fails to bring a sense of calm, especially as Kento stands beside you, his arm slipping easily around your waist. There’s something about the quiet mornings that feel intimate, as though you’re the only two people in the world, basking in a new life that finally feels your own.

Breakfasts are leisurely affairs, often consisting of fresh tropical fruits and steaming cups of coffee. Nanami has taken to savoring the local flavors with surprising enthusiasm, showing a side of him you hadn’t seen before—one of curiosity and delight in the simple pleasures of life. He’s no longer the man burdened by duty, but someone who has learned to slow down, to breathe.

After breakfast, the two of you wander into town, where the locals have already come to recognize Nanami’s stoic figure and your frequent visits to the markets. Kuantan's streets are bustling, but in a way that’s gentle and inviting, not overwhelming. 

The sea breeze follows you wherever you go, and the chatter of vendors becomes a comforting background noise. You notice how Nanami’s posture is relaxed, his eyes softer as he greets familiar faces or stops to buy ingredients for lunch.

He’s taken up cooking more often, and you enjoy watching him experiment in the kitchen with local recipes, his focus now on perfecting the blend of spices rather than wielding his cursed energy.

One afternoon, while you’re walking through a hidden path surrounded by lush greenery, Nanami suddenly stops. You look up at him, sensing he has something on his mind. His hand slides into yours, firm but gentle, a touch that speaks volumes of the man he is now—steady, grounded, and deeply content.

“I didn’t think I could ever feel this way, sweetheart.” he says, voice low but clear in the quiet of the jungle trail. “There was a time I thought peace was a luxury I’d never have.”

You squeeze his hand, knowing exactly what he means. The life you’ve built here is worlds apart from the chaos and danger you once faced together, but it's the very contrast that makes it so meaningful.

In the afternoons, you often visit the beaches. Teluk Cempedak has become your favorite spot—a place where the white sand meets crystal-clear water, and the two of you can walk for hours without encountering a soul.

Sometimes you swim in the sea, the cool water refreshing against your skin as Kento watches you with a fondness that never fades. His laughter, rare but heartfelt, comes more easily now, especially when you tease him about letting go of his suit in favor of the casual attire of your new coastal life.

It’s in these quiet, intimate moments that you notice the little changes in him. His guard is down, his movements less calculated and more relaxed. He no longer feels the weight of being a sorcerer, of having to constantly protect or fight. Instead, he’s allowed himself to simply be—Nanami Kento, a man enjoying the peace of a life he’s long deserved.

Evenings are your favorite part of the day. You sit on your veranda, facing the open expanse of the sea as the sun sets, casting brilliant hues of orange and pink across the sky. Nanami often sits beside you, a book in hand, though he rarely gets far in his reading. He’s more focused on the sound of your voice as you talk about your day, or simply enjoying the stillness that surrounds you both. Sometimes, when the mood strikes, you’ll put on soft music, and the two of you will dance slowly in the fading light, your bodies swaying in perfect harmony to a rhythm only you can hear.

One night, as you lie together in the gentle darkness, the sound of waves crashing in the distance, Nanami turns to you with a question of his own. “Did you ever think we’d make it here?”

You’re silent for a moment, reflecting on the years that led to this—of all the pain, the battles, the near misses, and the impossible choices. But now, with his arm draped across your waist and his steady breathing beside you, the answer feels simple.

“I always hoped we would, my love.” you whisper, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “It was always a dream, to just go away and be happy together. Being together was always enough. Life exists to be lived when I have you, you know?”

Kento’s lips curl into the faintest of smiles as he pulls you closer. “I know. I feel the same way.”

And as you drift off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the sea and the warmth of Nanami beside you, you know that this peace—this life—was worth every struggle. Here, in Kuantan, you’ve finally found your sanctuary, a place where you and Nanami can truly be free.

The following weeks in Kuantan seem to melt together in a peaceful haze, each day blending into the next in a rhythm you’ve both come to cherish. The routines you’ve settled into feel like second nature now, but they never lose their charm.

Every shared meal, every walk along the beach, every quiet evening under the stars feels like a gift—a stark contrast to the fast-paced, dangerous life Nanami Kento had once lived.

You decide to explore your new home a little deeper as time passes by. Kuantan has more to offer than its beaches, and as much as you love the ocean, there’s something exciting about venturing further into the local culture.

You both find yourselves at the Sungai Lembing Mines, a historical site nestled amidst lush greenery. The air is cooler here, the dense forest canopy providing shade as you explore the remains of the old mining town. Kento, ever the thoughtful observer, takes in the details of the place with quiet interest.

As you walk through the narrow tunnels, dimly lit by soft lights, Kento surprises you by taking your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. You glance at him, his face calm but focused as he guides you through the mine. The place seems to bring out a reflective mood in him.

“I used to think life was about surviving, you know? To come home to you.” he says, his voice echoing slightly in the enclosed space. “I never imagined I’d find a place where I could live—really live. Free from everything, from the pain.”

You smile at his words, understanding the weight behind them. For so long, both of you had lived on the edge, where peace seemed like a distant dream. But now, in this quiet corner of the world, you’ve found a way to truly live, just as he said.

“I’m glad we found it together, my love.” you reply, squeezing his hand gently.

Kento looks at you, his eyes softening with affection. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Later that afternoon, you visit the bustling Pasar Besar, the central market in Kuantan. The vibrant array of fruits, vegetables, spices, and street food is overwhelming in the best way.

You laugh as Kento samples unfamiliar snacks, his face betraying a rare look of surprise when something unexpected hits his palate. It’s moments like this—his subtle humor, the small ways he lets his guard down—that make you fall in love with him all over again.

You spot a stall selling batik cloth and decide to browse through the colorful fabrics. The intricate designs catch your eye, and soon enough, you’re holding up pieces, wondering which would look best as a gift. Nanami, standing beside you with his arms crossed, watches with quiet amusement as you deliberate over the choices.

“You’ll make the right decision, sweetie.” he says, his tone teasing but warm. “You always do.”

“I know I do.” You mumble back to him. “But what if I can’t decide?”

“Then buy as many as you want, sweetie. I’ll pay for it.” He grinned at you, kissing your forehead as you pouted at him. “Go on. Get as much as you like.”

Back at your home by the sea, the evenings continue to be your sanctuary. Tonight, the sky is clear, and the stars are brighter than ever. Kento is in the kitchen, cooking up one of the local dishes he’s learned to perfect—a spicy sambal to go with freshly grilled fish.

You sit at the table, watching him move around the small space with the same precision and care he once applied to missions and battles. There’s something comforting about seeing him this way, so at ease in the simple task of preparing a meal.

When he’s done, the two of you sit on the veranda, plates in hand, enjoying the quiet symphony of the night. The ocean breeze drifts through the air, and the sound of the waves creates a steady, calming backdrop to your meal.

Kento sits across from you, and though his expression remains composed, there’s a softness in his gaze as he looks at you—one that speaks of contentment, of having finally found his place.

As the night deepens, you both remain outside, not wanting to leave the serenity of the moment. The conversation flows easily, dipping into memories of the past but always returning to the present. You talk about everything and nothing—the little details of your day, plans for tomorrow, and the quiet joy of simply being together.

At one point, you catch  Kento standing on the porch, gazing out at the sea. The moonlight shimmered across the water’s surface, casting a silver glow that matched the contemplative look in his eyes. You quietly approached, leaning against the railing beside him, sensing he was lost in thought. His profile was softened by the pale light, yet his expression held a depth of reflection you hadn’t seen in a long time.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The sound of the waves rolling in gently filled the space between you, creating a calm, soothing rhythm. Finally, Kento broke the silence.

“You know, sweetie...” he began softly, his voice low and distant, as though he was speaking more to the sea than to you. “There was a time I didn’t think I’d ever end up living this life with you."

You turned to him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. He continued, still looking out at the endless horizon. "I mean, we had a lovely life in Tokyo. But I wasn’t sure I’d survive long enough to have this—to have you and well... this peace."

There was a long pause as he struggled to find the right words, his hand tightening slightly on the railing. "I thought I didn’t deserve it, you know?" he admitted, his voice barely a whisper now. "Especially with all the things I’ve done… the lives I’ve seen lost." He exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping under the weight of memories you knew he still carried.

You stepped closer, gently slipping your hand into his. His grip was warm, yet tentative, like he was grounding himself in this moment. You feel a lump form in your throat at his honesty. Your beloved Kento has always been pragmatic, a man who understood the brutal realities of the world, and hearing him speak of those doubts only makes the peace you’ve found more precious.

"And I... I still feel guilty," he continued, his voice thick with emotion. "Letting the kids do what I should be doing as an adult, as the one who’s been through it all. It feels like I abandoned them, like I took the easy way out by choosing this life with you."

The rawness in his confession made your heart ache. You squeezed his hand, feeling the depth of his inner turmoil. "Kento, my love….." you began softly, kissing his hand. "You didn’t abandon anyone. You’ve given so much of yourself to that world... to those kids. No one deserves peace more than you."

He turned to face you then, his eyes reflecting not only the moonlight but also the deep well of emotions he kept hidden. "But how do I live with this peace,sweetie?" he asked quietly. "How do I do it when I know others are still out there, fighting?"

You looked at him for a long moment, choosing your words carefully. "Because you’ve earned it, Kento. You’ve given your life, your time, your energy to protect others. Now, it’s time for you to live. And the kids... they look up to you, not because you’re out there fighting, but because of the wisdom you’ve shared. They’ll carry that with them. They will go on and be stronger because of what you taught them. Okay?”

He fell silent again, but this time, there was less tension in his posture. The guilt and doubt, though still present, seemed to soften in the wake of your words. He sighed deeply, a breath that felt like the release of a burden he'd been carrying for far too long.

"You’re right." he murmured, almost to himself. "I just need to let go." His gaze returned to the horizon, but this time, there was a quiet acceptance in his eyes.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, the two of you standing there in the quiet night, the sound of the sea a constant, gentle reminder that you were here, together. In that moment, you both found peace—not in the absence of guilt or regret, but in the choice to live for the present, for each other.

"I’m just glad you’re here, my love." you whispered, your voice barely audible against the sound of the waves.

Kento turned his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "I’m glad I’m here too." he replied, his voice full of quiet gratitude.

“You’ve done all you could, my love.” you say softly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Take your rest. Enjoy the fruits of your labor. Live, okay?”

Kento looks at you, his gaze filled with a tenderness that takes your breath away. “Together.”

Your lips echo the happiest smile you could ever give him. “Together.”

The night stretches on, and as you both sit in the comforting silence, hand in hand, you realize that these quiet, intimate moments are the culmination of everything you’ve been through. You made it. You were here at the finish line.

And here, in Kuantan, you’ve found a home not just in the place, but in each other. And for the first time in what feels like forever, the future seems bright, filled with the promise of many more peaceful nights like this one, together.

THE SUNSETS WERE ONE TO LOOK FORWARD TO. Everything about it was ever so breathtaking. You both couldn't understand what beauty was until you both saw the sunset for the first time. Somehow, the world had only come to make sense when you saw Kuantan's wonderous sunset for the first time.

The beach is bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun, the sky awash with shades of pink, orange, and purple. The gentle sound of the waves crashing against the shore forms a soothing backdrop, but it’s the heat building between you and Kento that holds your attention. The sand beneath your skin feels cool, a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from his body as he hovers over you, his presence grounding yet electrifying.

His lips find your inner thigh first, a featherlight kiss that sends a ripple of anticipation through you. His breath is warm against your skin, and with every slow, deliberate movement, Kento teases you, heightening the tension that has been simmering all evening. His large hands caress your hips, his touch gentle yet firm, as if reminding you that you’re completely his in this moment.

He hums lowly, the vibrations of his voice traveling through you, sending shivers down your spine. His lips finally move to your womanhood, his touch both reverent and commanding.

You gasp softly, your fingers curling into the sand as his tongue brushes against your most sensitive spot, teasingly slow, savoring every reaction you give him. Each flick of his tongue, every press of his lips, is intentional, calculated to drive you wild.

The soft crashing of the waves matches the rhythm of his movements—slow, steady, and completely overwhelming. You feel your body respond to him in a way only he could elicit, the pleasure building slowly, winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue. He groans against you, the sound deep and satisfied, as if relishing the way your body reacts to him.

Your breath hitches, a soft moan escaping your lips as he pulls you deeper into this intimate dance. His pace remains patient, never rushing, drawing out every second of pleasure as if time itself has slowed down for just the two of you. He knows exactly how to work your body, how to make you feel cherished and consumed all at once.

“Kento…” you whisper, your voice trembling, but all you can hear is his deep hum of approval, his lips never leaving you, his focus entirely on your pleasure.

The intensity of the moment swells with the colors of the sunset around you, the world narrowing down to just him and the sensation of his mouth on you, guiding you toward the brink of bliss.

Nanami’s mouth moves with a calculated intensity, each flick of his tongue deliberate and unhurried, savoring every reaction. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, holding you in place as your body instinctively tries to shift from the overwhelming pleasure building inside you. The sun sinks lower, casting golden light across your skin, but you barely notice anything beyond the sensations Kento is pulling from you.

Your fingers twist into the sand, grasping for something solid as waves of pleasure roll through you. His tongue circles your sensitive nub, the rhythm maddeningly slow, before he pulls back, teasing you with a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. His breath is hot, mingling with the cool ocean breeze, sending a shiver down your spine.

He hums again, the low sound reverberating through your core as he returns his attention to your aching center. His tongue presses against you, swirling, as his fingers trace soft patterns over your thighs. The contrast of his teasing pace with the tight coil of need inside you is almost too much to bear.

"Patience, sweetie, hm?" he murmurs between movements, his voice low and teasing, the same words he used earlier still dripping with that calm authority that only Kento carries. Your body responds to him instinctively, hips bucking ever so slightly toward his mouth, seeking more of him, needing more.

“Kento… please, my love.” you moan, your voice barely audible, but full of raw desire. He smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you’ve surrendered to him completely.

Instead of responding with words, he increases his pace just enough to push you closer to the edge. His tongue moves with a newfound fervor, flicking over your clit with just the right amount of pressure, drawing another soft moan from your lips. The sensation builds, the pleasure tightening low in your belly, curling and winding like a spring ready to snap.

Kento’s grip on your hips grows firmer, holding you steady as your body begins to tremble beneath him. You feel his fingers digging into your skin, grounding you as you teeter on the brink of release. His mouth works you with relentless precision, his movements growing more intense, more focused.

Your breathing becomes shallow, your heart racing as the tension inside you builds, each flick of his tongue sending you closer to the edge. The cool night air mixes with the heat radiating from your body, and with one final, perfect stroke of his tongue, the dam breaks.

A wave of pleasure crashes over you, your back arching as your release floods through you. You cry out his name, your fingers grasping at the sand as your body shakes with the force of your orgasm. Kento stays with you, his tongue moving slowly, gently, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you’re left breathless and trembling beneath him.

He finally pulls away, his lips brushing your thigh one last time before he crawls up beside you, wrapping you in his strong arms. His breath is steady, calm, a stark contrast to the wild thrum of your heartbeat as you come down from your high.

The two of you lie there in the soft glow of the fading sunset, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your release. Nanami presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your arm.

"You’re incredible, sweetie." he whispers, his voice full of admiration as he holds you close, the sound of the waves lulling you into a state of perfect contentment.

Kento’s strong arms around you feel like the safest place in the world as you lie there, his warmth radiating against your skin, contrasting with the cool breeze of the beach. The remnants of your release still pulse through your body, leaving you relaxed and utterly content, the sound of the waves adding to the peaceful rhythm of the moment.

He pulls you closer, resting his chin on top of your head, his fingers still tracing soft patterns along your arm. There's a quiet satisfaction in the way he holds you, as if he’s savoring the moment just as much as you are. The sun has dipped fully below the horizon now, and the sky is painted with deep purples and blues, the stars beginning to peek through the night’s curtain.

You shift slightly in his arms, tilting your head to look up at him. His eyes are soft, reflecting the dim light of the fading day, and there's a small, content smile tugging at the corners of his lips. In the stillness of the night, you can see the depth of his emotions in the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters to him at this moment.

“Kento…” you whisper, your voice soft, still breathless from the intensity of what just happened. There’s something unspoken in the air between you, something deeper than just desire.

He tilts his head down, brushing his lips gently against yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender, filled with the love and care he always shows you. It’s a stark contrast to the raw intensity of just moments ago, but it feels just as intimate, just as consuming.

“I love you, sweetheart.” he murmurs against your lips, his voice deep and full of warmth. “More than I could ever put into words.”

You feel your heart swell at his words, the sincerity in his tone making your chest tighten with emotion. It’s moments like this that remind you just how deeply you’ve fallen for him—his strength, his patience, the way he always knows exactly how to make you feel cherished.

“I love you too, Kento. More than you know.” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You nuzzle closer to him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek as you rest your head on his chest. His hand comes up to gently stroke your hair, his touch soothing as you lie together in the quiet.

“Fuck me, my love. Please.” you whisper breathlessly, your voice laced with need. “Need you, Kento.”

The playful edge in your tone catches him off guard, and a smirk dances on his lips. He raises an eyebrow, looking down at you with a mix of amusement and desire, his eyes glinting in the soft moonlight.

“Is that so?” he replies, a teasing lilt in his voice. “After everything we just did?”

You nod, biting your lip, feeling that familiar heat pooling in your belly again. The way he gazes at you ignites that fire within, the hunger mirrored in his own expression. There’s a magnetic pull between you, a need that feels insatiable.

With a low chuckle, Kento shifts, moving to hover over you once more, the cool sand beneath you feeling inviting as the warmth of his body envelops you. The playful teasing in his eyes remains, but there’s also a seriousness in the way he leans closer, his breath mingling with yours.

“How wanton. My precious sweetheart is wanton.” he murmurs, echoing his earlier words but with a different tone. He’s still in control, yet you can sense the excitement building in him as well. He brushes his lips against yours, a soft yet electrifying connection, before trailing kisses down your neck, each one igniting your skin.

Your body responds instinctively, arching into him, craving more of that sweet friction. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, your pulse quickening as he teases you, his hands exploring every inch of you, igniting every nerve ending.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” he whispers, his voice low and gravelly, a hint of challenge lacing his words. The intensity in his gaze makes your heart race, the way he watches you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

You meet his eyes, determination swirling on your own. “I want you, Kento. Now.”

With that, he smiles, a wicked gleam in his eye, and his hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer. The anticipation hangs in the air, thick and intoxicating, as you both lose yourselves in this moment, ready to explore the depths of your desires once again under the fading light of the sunset.

Kento’s own gaze darkens with desire, but a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Patience, my dear sweetheart. I told you before." he murmurs, his tone low and teasing. His fingers move with deliberate slowness as he lowers his shorts, pulling down just enough for his thick, veiny cock to spring free. The sight of him makes your heart race.

He doesn't rush. Instead, he takes his time, rubbing his cock between your wet, needy folds, coating himself with your arousal. The sensation is maddening, and every time he slips his cock in just a little before pulling back out, you whine with frustration. You’re desperate for more, for him to fill you.

"You drive me crazy, sweetie." he growls, his large hands gripping your hips firmly. In one smooth motion, he pushes himself inside you, stretching you out in a way that feels so deliciously overwhelming. You gasp, your back arching off the sand as his cock fills you to the brim. He’s big, so big that even just the tip feels like it’s splitting you open.

"So big, Kento,oh—" you moan, your fingers digging into the sand as your body adjusts to the feeling of him buried so deep inside you. His groan rumbles through the air, the sensation of your walls gripping him tightly nearly sending him over the edge.

His hips press forward, and you feel the bulge in your tummy as he nestles himself even deeper into you. His thrusts are slow, controlled, and purposeful, driving you wild with the sweet agony of wanting more.

"You're squeezing me so tight, sweetheart." he grits out, his voice strained as he struggles to maintain his composure. “Too tight.”

Your husband’s slow pace remains deliberate, each slow thrust making you feel every inch of him as he stretches you so fully, so deeply. His hands grip your hips tighter, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you against him, forcing you to take him completely. The sensation is overwhelming—his thick cock filling you, stretching your walls in a way that makes it hard to think of anything but him.

Your moans mix with the sound of the crashing waves, and the setting sun casts a warm glow over both of you, illuminating the scene in a soft, golden light. The contrast between the cool breeze on your heated skin and the fiery pleasure building inside you sends shivers down your spine.

“My love, please. Please….Oh, oh….” you beg, your voice barely a whisper, strained with the need for more. You can feel him twitching inside you, his control faltering slightly as your tightness drives him closer to the edge.

“Let me work you up, a little, hm? Patience, sweetie.” he rasps again, though the way his breathing grows more ragged tells you he’s not far from losing it himself. His cock glides in and out of you with a torturous rhythm, teasing you, keeping you right on the precipice without giving you the release you crave.

Desperate, you rock your hips against him, trying to take more, trying to force him deeper. The movement earns a low groan from him, and suddenly, his grip tightens, his control slipping as he slams into you harder, burying himself completely.

Your body arches beneath him, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as the intense pressure of him filling you sends waves of pleasure radiating through your entire body. His pace quickens, the lazy tease of his earlier movements replaced with the primal need to claim you, to make you feel nothing but him.

“Fuck, sweetie.” he growls, his voice deep and rough with lust. “You’re taking me so well—so tight, so fucking perfect. My little wife. Mine, mine. Only mine.” He thrusts into you harder, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, hitting spots that make your vision blur.

Your hands grasp at the sand for stability, but it does nothing to ground you as pleasure builds inside you, coiling tight in your core. “Kento, I can’t—” You can barely get the words out, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “You can, sweetheart. You’re mine. Let go.”

His words, his voice, the feeling of his cock driving deeper and deeper—everything hits you all at once. With a cry, you fall apart beneath him, your body trembling as waves of ecstasy crash over you. Your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper as your orgasm takes over, leaving you breathless and shaking.

Kento groans, the tightness of your release pushing him to the brink. His thrusts grow erratic, his grip on your hips bruising as he chases his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he spills inside you, filling you completely as his body tenses and shudders against yours.

For a moment, the world stands still—the only sounds are the soft crash of waves and your labored breathing. Kento slowly pulls out of you, his cock still throbbing as he collapses beside you on the sand, pulling you into his arms.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting the last of its golden light over the two of you. Wrapped in his embrace, with the warmth of his body still lingering between your legs, you close your eyes, content in the quiet aftermath.

“I love you, Kento. So much. More than you know. ” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the ocean breeze.

He presses a kiss to your temple, his voice soft and tender. “I love you too, sweetheart. But I love you more.”

You laugh softly. “I won’t win against you, aren’t I?”

Kento smiled back, leaning forward to kiss you. “Hm, no. I love you too much, sweetheart. I think I’m willing to fight for the title.”

“Hm….then I will too.” You kiss his jaw, grinning at him. 

He laughs. “We’ll see, sweetheart.”

[aliteralsemicolon]

Been seeing a lot about writing Spencer "accurately" online and idk where this wave of criticism is coming from, but I need every single one of you to be so fucking for real rn. Yapsesh below the cut.

Spencer Reid is a fictional character. Fiction means he's not real. He's a not real character from a not real universe. There's no "wrong" way to write a fictional character.

There is no canon guideline on how to write every part of him. Yes there are certain traits and characteristics we're shown, but people are complex. What we see the character do on screen isn't a complete representation of how they live every aspect their life.

Even the show runners couldn't get him "right" all the time, Hell, Mathew himself deviated from Spencer's canon traits sometimes. For example: his birthday, the fact that he's a germaphobe but you can still see him shake hands with characters when he normally wouldn't and there's SO many more if you just watch the show and pay attention.

Also there are things about Spencer that the fandom has deemed canon when they are not, in fact, canon. Like the converse: it's commonly believed that Spencer has a preference for wearing converse, which is wrong. That's a purely MGG thing. Spencer only wears converse in a few episodes through out the whole show. Most of the time he wears formal/work footwear, like loafers.

Now, there are definitely aspects you can't take away from a character in your writing because that's what makes the character who they primarily are. You'll notice that even in most alternate universe stories, Spencer still has the traits he's known for. IQ of 187, eidetic memory, socially awkward genius. That's literally how he was intended to come across during the initially seasons.

We only got new traits as the show progressed. Like how he's a sassy little shit who isn't scared of authority. The reason we can deviate from those is because they're not his core traits. His personality changes throughout the show. At times he appears like his same socially awkward self, but we also get to see his confident side with strangers at times.

It's literally impossible to label him a black and white character because there's so much we don't get to see. We don't get to see how he acts with love interests in every season (every season is a slightly different version from the last), we don't get to see how he acts when he's home alone, how he changes in so many aspects of his life. I think I'm just repeating myself now, but I think you get the point.

I find comfort in Spencer Reid's character, which is why I write about him. He acts however I want him to act in my writing because that's how I see him. Everyone has their own interpretation of the character. A lot of the interpretations share similarities with each other, so they're deemed as "the right way to write Spencer" by us, but that's not possible because there is no right way.

All this to say: Please stop criticising writers for how they write a character. You don't have to agree with their interpretation. There are other writers out there who you may agree with more. Engage more with them and disengage from the content you don't want to see.

[gahellhimself-blog]

⚠️important informations⚠️

Hey everyone,

I would like to have a moment to talk about the comic Teach Me with you all.

For some time now, and especially since we reached the end of Chapter 2, I have had a few remarks regarding Mr Fell. I understand the criticism that has been written, and that is why I would like to give a few explanations.

I have been working on this comic since around January, first alone, then with my amazing team (<3).

This story evolved a lot since the beginning; as a remind, or information for anybody who joined this adventure recently, this comic shouldn't have grown to be this size, shouldn't even exist to begin with. It did end up taking a spot in my life and mind that I had not planned for at all.

First of all, because it targets themes that I hold very dear; first one being that of transidentity, especially transmasculinity.

Then, because the characters themselves have evolved with the story as it came to be built as time went by.

I make it my personal mission to ensure that this story makes sense, without it going too far either. This means that I am trying, as much as I can, to keep from targetting scenarios deemed "problematic", which as you all might imagine isn't the easiest to do when the story's backbone is the relationship between a professor and a student.

This means a lot of work, but it is extremely satisfying, as it makes everything more interesting and deeper in its narrative meaning.

I was told several times that "my" Aziraphale is very different from the canon Aziraphale: yes, that is after all an Alternative Universe. The canon character is only the base on which we have built the character of Pr. A. Fell.

I can also understand that it would be troubling; however, all you have seen of the characters until now exists for a reason. I am the first to be sorry that I cannot say more at the moment, but I will have to ask you to trust me: if I am not saying anything more, it is all for the benefit of the story itself, as they will surely take another meaning and dimension once you have every piece of information available to you that will allow you to re-read it under a very different light.

Finally, I would like to clarify one important element:

I staunchly refuse to have relationships between adults and minors or grooming in my stories. As much as I can, I avoid age gaps that would be too jarring, and when I do, it will be for the benefit of the story's coherence; same thing applies to power dynamics and imbalances.

Please do not forget that English isn't my native language: I do not have all the codes of language (I think of the hashtags for example), as they can be very different from the French ones. Therefore, I ask that if you see something that looks jarring in my descriptions or answers, you tell me about it. In order to get better at communicating what I mean, I need to know what I have to correct.

Thank you all, both for your incredible support and your criticism, which allow me to grow better.

Gael

Thanks to @kotias for the translation.

See ya in November (at least) for the chapter 3.

[merrinla]

Halsin's Sorrow from early access

The old datamine looks like an alternate universe. I find some parts of it much interesting than in the full release. The part of Isobel's death, when Halsin killed her in self defense, after she attacked him for unknown reasons. Then Ketheric unleashed the shadow curse. These events were mentioned in Halsin's diary. And it's really emotional.

---------- [This is an ancient notebook, whose ink is faded and pages are starting to crumble. It's not easy, but some words can still be made out.]

How do you describe events like these? An accident? A tragedy? The cruelty of fate?

It does not matter. Isobel is just as dead.

I can't remember what happened with any clarity. We were negotiating. She with [...] I led the druids. [...] words grew heated [...] threw the first punch. It was mayhem.

[...] stared at me, my glaive's blade buried in her stomach and shock in her eyes. I can't believe she wanted to hurt me. It was pure instinct - the heat of combat.

[...] washed the blood from my hands. My glaive was still there, coated in her blood, but something else felt different. There's a sickness in the blade. It seems cursed, but by whom? Selûne herself?

It is locked away now. I do not trust its power in the wrong hands. And I never want to see it again. ---------- In Ketheric, I see my errors made manifest. He did not fall - he was pushed. His grief was twisted by shadow, but none could deny my hand gave that grief shape. ----------

He gave the glaive the symbolic name Sorrow. And in the description it caused psychic damage to the one who used it. ---------- A heavy, cold energy clings to the glaive like the blood rusted to its blade. It fills your very being with regret

The wielder takes 1 Psychic damage whenever they deal damage using this blade. ----------

Halsin saw Ketheric not as an enemy, but as a victim of circumstances. After all, he knew what it was like to lose family (in theory). And he obviously blamed himself that his actions provoked such a chain of tragic events. Even if it wasn't intentional. But he also understood that Ketheric needed to be stopped and put an end to the curse. That was his motivation to join you.

So earlier he was more intertwined with the main plot of Act 2. And I can only imagine what emotional interactions this trio could get. How would Halsin react to seeing Isobel resurrected? What would Ketheric say to the person who took his daughter's life? And what would Halsin answer him?

In the release version if you kill Isobel, then during the audience you will have an interesting conversation with Ketheric. He will tell you the story of his family so that you understand what it cost him. Maybe this is a rewritten dialogue of the previous plot.

Isobel also has cut content. Оriginally more scenes were planned with her. For example, in one of them she sang.

Anyway, although this is no longer canon, I hope someday the developers will reveal new surprising details about what was left behind the scenes.

UPD: Much later I took screenshots of his journal, glaive and found a few lines about it

[nyaskitten]

EDIT: THIS POST IS INACCURATE !!!

I made the assumption Olive was editing the wiki articles, and while that's a very logical conclusion to reach, it was actually someone who shares the same viewpoints as them!!! Anything including the wiki articles and Olive's involvement is wrong and that's my bad!!!

Alright fellas, I guess we did it. We have reached the tipping point. I'm going to dedicate this post to calling out one specific person, @olivescales3, and their very toxic behavior. This post will be a bit messy, and I do apologize in advance, I'm writing this from the perspective of a Ninjago fan who also thinks beyond just the petty fandom stuff, what they're doing is just not cool.

I will clarify, I do not make this post for petty fandom drama, I make this to better spread awareness on some of the bullshit they're doing, so you can look out for and understand that they're bullshitting. Without further ado, I think we should just get into it.

So, what have they done?

Now, I should say while there is no 100000% concrete link between hyenabro and olivescales, I think based on their talking points (as well and the information I've recieved from friends in the Chima fandom, who have a bunch of prior experience with them,) it's safe to make this assumption!

So, what has olivescales DONE in this case? Simple, they've vandalized the Chima wiki on NUMEROUS occasions, even after several different people have revised their revisions, so as to discredit any conenctions between Dragons Rising and Chima.

(Green is their edits, red is the ones prior to theirs, I found this while going through their contributions section on their Fandom account, HyenaBro119)

As seen here, they have (under the username HyenaBro119) edited the pages for Chima AND the Forever Rock (I have two similar screenshots of essentially the same thing, one was from the Forever Rock article, the other was from Chima) and claimed Ninjago's lore to be some alternate universe. To further validate it, they write "Ras' visit to," but Ras NEVER claimed to have VISITED these locations, just that he knows them. They also claim the Forever Rock was destroyed, a blatant lie. Only a small section of rock on the Forever Rock was actually destroyed, not the whole thing.

Now, you're gonna ask "but Raine, how can you 100000% say it's them?" and I will cite common sense. While I cannot directly tie Olive to hyena, I CAN say their wording is SO very similar.

Both Hyena and Olive call DR "a parallel/alternate universe," and again, claim Forever Rock was destroyed, WHICH IS A FULL ON LIE. They're so adamant to protect "the sanctity of Chima's pre-established, set-in-stone lore" that they can't stop to think maybe, JUST MAYBE, sometimes a story can get new lore which can ALSO be canon!

I'd also love to share this HILARIOUS screenshot of one of their many posts, which not only backs up what I'm saying, but it's like damn they really set themself up huh!

Gee I wonder why you feel alone! Maybe it's because you are! Maybe it's because you're lying and making shit up to prove yourself right! No one is as big of a hater as you!

The also LOVE saying Ninjago cannot do anything with Chima unless they get express permission from the creator of Chima, some guy named John Derevlany, but oh man what's this I see before me?

CO-CREATOR? Oh but Olive, I thought he was the CREATOR of Chima, not CO-creator... ALSO Lego owns the rights to Chima, and Ninjago, and every other theme, as said by Doc himself! If anything he wasn't really dodging the question, just giving a vague answer, because he doesn't know much about the old contracts!

From what he said, it's clear that if they wanted to use anything from the other themes, they'd have to consult folks over at LEGO, not John Derevlany or Tommy A.!

Now here's the THING, I GET where they're coming from, it CAN be annoying to have people only care about a thing you like in relation to something else, but when you're going out of your way to argue that none of it can be canon and it's all an alternate universe it's like... god it's so sad and pathetic really.

Their lies and BS don't even end there with the wiki shit, because I have THIS glorious gem.

A) They bring up that the Ninjago folk do not know who the Phoenixes are which is like, okay??? Why the fuck are they gonna know about how another universe was created??? That's like if someone told me I don't exist in the same universe as my glasses because I have no clue who made them, that is to say, that's stupid as FUCK to say!

B) OH they say something REAAALLL funny ohohohho I am actually dying. Olive says the Phoenix icon "appeared in a Ninjago episode" and "Ninjago tends to reuse assets." Yep, NINJAGO is the one who reused the phoenix symbol, mhm. The symbol that was made in 2011 for NINJAGO, which cameoed in CHIMA in 2014, was actually just an asset reuse by Ninjago. I feel like this actually goes to show how desparate they are to feel right and validated, because this? This a lie! Ninjago made the symbol, and because Tommy A. is co-creator to both, he wanted to slip in a neat Ninjago reference, so he slipped in the Phoenix symbol Nya uses for the Phoenix tribe, not the other way around!

Another REALLY funny thing they did, aside from the wiki and Phoenix symbol shit, was this hilarious attempt at being right!

Yes, the compared the WOLF Masks to BATman's cowl, and did a horribly rough comparison illustration that very much does not make sense. If you actually compared them side by side, the only similarities would be they're both angry animal themed mask with pointy ears, which does NOT go very far in the long run. The foreheads they drew aren't even the same fucking shape lol.

OH ANS WE CANNOT FORGET THIS ONE! Their using a post about the Palestinian genocide and boycotting Lego in order to complain about Ninjago.

They claim Ninjago is produced by Lego, unlike other Lego shows, which is an EXTREMELY bullshit fucking claim. Just like Chima and Nexo Knights, Ninjago is produced by Lego, it's not JUST Ninjago produced by Lego, they are all Canadian-Danish CGI action shows, and they're all known to have Tommy Andreasen involved in the creation of them.

They're using a post about boycotting for the sake of innocent people DYING to complain about a lego ninja show for... killing evil people? It doesn't glorify war, the worst it does in regards to war is like not address how fucked up it can be in regards to the Serpentine War, but that's like it. I think it's so funny they want to single out Ninjago as if it's the only TV series where villains die for trying to conquer/destroy the world.

So, what do I want the takeaway from this post to be? What do I want you to get from it? I don't really know anymore, I just don't want Olive's horrendously toxic behaviors, and straight up lies to stop. If anything I think it's beautiful that Ninjago is making others interested in revisiting Chima again, stop being such a fucking hater dude. They act like Chima is some holy grail of Lego, the greatest thing since bread, but it, just like Ninjago, Dreamzzz, Hidden Side, and Nexo Knights, have Tommy in creative roles.

To act like Chima is somehow greater than is to place it on an unrealistic pedestal as if it's a godsend, when in reality it was co-created by Tommy Fucking Andreasen.

If you read through all of this, I do THOROUGHLY appreciate it, I didn't mean for this post to descend into an angry ramble but ehhh yk how it is. And Olive, if you see this, please, just stop with the bullshit.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

i for once want to get the opinion of a "rational" jikooker who knows how to take a step back and take certain things for what they are and i wanna know your opinion or interpretation of jikook in chap2 and them not meeting and also that conversation they had in the car about that please.

And you thought I'm that rational person? Funny.

You know, there's something I always disliked about being in this fandom space. I mean, there's plenty of other things, don't get me wrong, but this one in particular really irks me. It's the need for approval, for confirmation of one's thoughts. There's a severe lack of independent thought. It might be hidden under apparent strong opinions, but when you look at how those opinions are spread to anon messaging to bloggers everyday, that's a sign that the complete opposite happens.

Jikook as a kpop ship always has to be questioned. At this point, I think it's part of its narrative as a ship. But what's curious (and stupid) is that the hardest line of questioning comes from the ones who consider themselves interested/curious. But make no mistake, this is not done for the sake of not becoming delusional and discard any rational thought. It happens because of the need for approval.

You sent me this ask because you hope for me to agree with your own thoughts about jikook and what that conversation in the car means. Not for them actually, but for you. And you're not the only person. A sure sign of fandom insanity is debating for over 2 weeks now a conversation that is not only heavily editated, it is mediated as well. It takes place in the context of a show for fans in which participants are two people who will never reveal everything about their lives. And on top of that, there's an intentional need to ignore that people can speak in hyperbole, that people can ommit or say one thing that actually means more or another that only the other person is capable of understanding the nuances of that.

Communication is complex. We do know that because we engage with it everyday. Except we forget all that the moment we have to talk about this specific ship. We forget a lot of things about human behavior, relationships, etc. It is an intentional act. So we start writing fanfictions. We start making relationship timelines. We start taking about temporary or definitive break ups of a ship that hasn't even been confirmed as a couple. At this point, shippers operate into this alternative universe sphere, canon adjacent but instead of doing it on ao3, they use their blogs and anon messages for that. But hey, fanfics on ao3 are a lot of the times the work of talented writers, while 500-1000 words essays on tumblr are simply a complete waste of time after the first paragraph.

Is this what you would consider a rational perspective? Or should I start writing down a timeline of all the times in which JM and JK have met in "Chapter 2" up until NY in July? (As if in reality their lives are actually separated that clearly, as if a break in band work completely defines their personal lives, jesus christ!). So, should I note down all the public events that they've been to? And to draw a conclusion from it to prove or disprove that the amount of times they've seen each other is reflective or not of what they said in the car when they left for their trip? Of course, we should ignore that there's an entire life outside of what we see.

And that's the thing, you know? We all supposedly agree that they actually share little of their lives with their fans, but practically? The fandom doesn't really give a shit. Because of the classic parasocial relationship we have developed that makes us believe we know everything there is to know.

What we are allowed to see and what we hear from whispers here and there should allow us to realize that no theory over a supposed relationship is better than the other. Believing they are just friends, that they have broken up, that they are fwb and so on is in no way more rational that believing they are together.

What does this mean? If none of us are wiser? It means we have a choice. Some are choosing to be losers or little bitches crying in anon asks about their "insecurities" over a ship. Some are choosing to look at this ship as a duo that includes two people who have really good chemistry and who match each other's freak.

I've always been in the latter category, I thought that was obvious and I've said it before. If one day Jimin makes a public statement that he's marrying the love of his life, a sweet girl that is also the mother of his 5 secret children, then so be it. And if one day, Jungkook shows up one day after he decided to run away and join a bike gang where he met his boyfriend, then so be it. If somehow that next day, a jikook clip would turn up on my tl in which Jimin is brushing his teeth while straddling Jungkook, my reaction would be "well, jikook fuck. Often". You know why? Because for me, the public life of stars and what they choose to share is entertainment. A travel show, a wlive, concerts, these are all forms of entertainment. I do not consume my entertainment by being a loser on the internet, pondering if my assessment over two people might be fucking is real or not or is approved by other people.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 425: New Normal

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all “and with that we conclude our final battle for better or worse!! We will now commence our slow return to the new normal, beginning with our protagonist and deuteragonist who are miraculously more or less intact, albeit exhausted and mildly traumatized. Also the words ‘more or less’ are kind of doing a lot of heavy lifting there.”

Today on BnHA: The Big 3 and Aoyama are OUT. Shinsou is IN. The Tododrama is PENDING, and the mysterious figure in the shadows is UNIDENTIFIED. Also class 1-A finally becomes class 2-A and it only took them 425 chapters and TEN LONG YEARS. Can you imagine if this series had actually run throughout their high school experience like people once expected. “THE YEAR IS 2044 AND MY HERO ACADEMIA IS FINALLY WINDING TO A CLOSE.” There’s an alternate universe somewhere where this actually happened and we were all so very, very tired.

This is once again a shorter than usual reaction summary post, as opposed to my typical page-by-page liveblog. Not gonna have time to do those for a while yet most likely, but like hell am I gonna miss out on the last days of the series, so here we are.

Once again basing this off of @pikahlua’s spoiler translation summary here!

watching the eighteen inch tall Rat Principal standing at a podium overseeing this graduation ceremony is surreal in the most wonderful way. it’s like receiving your diploma from a sentient Funko Pop

I love how they established that Mic sitting there screaming at the top of his lungs is also a beloved U.A. graduation tradition, and that the senpais just roll with it while everyone else is in varying stages of trying to decide if it’s too late to transfer to another school

ngl sometimes I forget that Ochako and Toga were actually the second canonical f/f ship in this series. shoutout to Hadou and her adorable girlfriend whose name I absolutely cannot recall

absolutely wild that Horikoshi gives credit to Rat Principal for coordinating the entire disaster recovery nationwide. are you serious. the “world-famous” Principal Nezu?? you’re telling me this little capybara is effectively the secret president of Japan now or something. when does he even sleep

“the principal made great contributions to quirk morality education” is also a VERY interesting tidbit that I really want to know more about. “hey guys what if we did a better job at teaching people not to be dicks with their quirks” AND JUST LIKE THAT JAPAN WAS SAVED huzzah

“we lost many things, but we gained nothing” is both HILARIOUS and soundly depressing, but I can see what he’s trying to get at. still an odd choice for a graduation speech though. “our job is all about harm reduction, and we couldn’t even do that this time around, but in the future we hope to balance things out and maybe even get some net positive impact going!” lmao. again it’s all true, and in all honesty it’s spectacular that they managed as well as they did, all things considered. and I guess it would have been disingenuous to just ignore the reality of everything this particular school body has been through and pretend like everything is great right now. but I still can’t help feeling like there was probably a more inspiring way to get this message across lol

regardless of what he says, Aizawa 100% either bribed or threatened Rat Principal behind the scenes in order to stay with his class. and will do so again next year. he can and will keep getting away with it. he is never leaving these kids

and the sheer relief from all of them upon hearing it is all the justification he needs. these kids have four thousand nine hundred and seventeen accumulated traumas among them. they don’t need a four thousand nine hundred and eighteenth. this man is their father ffs. MINA WAS CRYING AND EVERYTHING

Kacchan watched that YouTube video about a dozen times until he managed to tie his tie all on his own with the one hand. and he did an amazing job. he’s such a model citizen now

also it looks to me like he has his right arm hidden in a sling underneath his shirt, which is interesting. if I’m not mistaken (and I very well could be, since it’s been a hot minute since I did any BnHA timeline math), the final battle took place sometime in early May, so this chapter is taking place roughly one month later. the hospital chapter took place about a week after the battle, so it’s been about 3-4 weeks since then. I really want to know what kind of shape Kacchan’s arm is in, but I guess Horikoshi will get to it when he gets to it

also, “we all gotta be together today” was a real wakeup call to me in that it gave me just an absolutely ridiculous amount of feels. just a totally unreasonable amount. and it’s like. listen, self. Kacchan has completed his character growth arc. he’s a team player and a leader who loves all his friends and they all love him in return. we’ve known this for years now. it’s an established fact. you can’t keep bursting into tears or whatever every time he shows it. this is no way to live your life. I need an intervention

anyways later this evening class 2-A is gonna have a celebratory movie night in the common room, and Kacchan is gonna fall asleep two minutes in peacefully surrounded by all his classmates, and they’re all gonna nudge each other and smile fondly and cover him with a blanket and stay up until 2am and Aizawa will have no mercy on them the following morning. it’s gonna be so wholesome you guys

(ETA: I decided to go back and have some more feels about this one tiny Kacchan panel, because apparently the four paragraphs I already wrote about it weren't enough. so the thing is, Sero's wonderment at Katsuki being out of the hospital initially read to me as half bemused awe, and half "oh boy, time to get back into our usual rhythm of antagonizing Kacchan!" but my second time around, I can't help remembering that all of Kacchan's classmates got to watch this kid getting tortured and strangled and stabbed through the heart in 4K. like, even if they were busy with their own fights at the time, there's no way they didn't see the footage later on afterwards.

and that had to have been traumatic for them. their friend literally died and was just lying there so still for so long afterwards. and him getting better and going back to his usual asskicking self later on doesn't just erase those memories, you know? especially with him having lasting, permanent damage afterward. not just his arm, even! like who even knows if his heart is going to be okay long term. when people get organ transplants they have to go on immunosuppressants afterwards because otherwise their body will try to attack the replacement organ. so I wonder how exactly it works when it's still your heart, but it's being held together by various bits and pieces of a spindly little floss man. idk, but I bet you it's still pretty rough.

anyway so long story short, I'm now reading this as one-third bemused awe, one-third joking antagonism, and one-third genuine "no seriously, is it okay for you to be here, please don't do anything to put your health at risk because we seriously cannot handle you dying on us again." and Kacchan's not even disagreeing with him lol, which has to be the most concerning thing of all. "they said it's okay if I rest." even he knows he's pushing it, but it was too important of an occasion to miss. anyway please take it easy kiddo.)

Aoyama leaving makes me sad but it makes total sense for his character after what he’s been through. he needs time to sort things out and continue down his own personal honor-regaining journey. respect

also glad to hear that it was his own choice and that both Rat Principal and Nao would have supported him if he stayed. I still to this day do not understand Naomasa’s actual level of authority lol. like, he’s supposedly a detective, and yet he seems to be personally in charge of every single important police operation, on like a national level. and he has the authority to make decisions like letting Aoyama go free. he is the law, literally

Aoyama trying to feed Deku some farewell cheese also took me out. like he just walked in there and was all “sorry everyone, I’m leaving, but I’ll still aim for the path of a hero and will one day return, don’t you worry!” and at some point in the midst of this tearful speech he made a beeline directly to Izuku and tried to give him some cheese that he apparently just had in his pocket or something. and Izuku was all “YEAH!” all solemnly but HE DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH THAT POCKET CHEESE. like he loves you and accepts you for who you are Yuuga but COME ON

at this point in the chapter it also became clear to me that Aizawa has his hair up in some sort of loosely assembled messy bun and that’s why it looks so especially flowing and gorgeous today. this is great cinema

and then AT LONG LAST, the admission of Shinsou into class 2-A. they tried everything they could to keep him out, BUT NOT EVEN THE END OF THE WORLD COULD STOP HIM. his rightful place

Ojiro’s scandalized response to hearing Fuwa refer to Aizawa as “Era-sen”, and then Fuwa subsequently revealing all of Aizawa’s secrets and Aizawa getting flustered and kicking her out, was one of the most delightful sequences I’ve read. “nooooo don’t tell them that, what the hell am I gonna threaten them with now”

Izuku has not even attempted to crack a smile since the final battle, aside from when he was frantically trying to reassure Kacchan in the hospital. I’m worried about him but also loving this a little bit, ngl. I am content to wait for you to eventually have a proper breakdown, mister Greatest Hero

also I singled him out on the whole not-smiling thing, but really this is true for just about all of them. my heart aches :(

were there really so many people freaking out over Izuku’s hair that Horikoshi felt compelled to throw in that “HEY DEKU-KUN, YOU SHAVED YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT DUE TO AN INJURY, RIGHT? BUT IT’LL GROW BACK, RIGHT!?” line in there lol. the hilarious thing is that this chapter was already in the books before 424 was released, so it means that Horikoshi anticipated the backlash ahead of time. the man knows his audience

and now for this mysterious little barefoot man randomly emerging from some rubble somewhere. who are you. fandom already thinks you’re everyone from Tenko to Hisashi lol. my personal theory is that he’s just a random citizen who’s hurt and traumatized and needs help. and unlike what happened with baby Tenko once upon a time, this young man actually will be helped by a hero in his moment of need, and it’ll be all hopeful and stuff because SOCIETY IS CHANGING FOR THE BETTER NOW HOORAY

or maybe he really is Tenko, idk. what do I know lol. don’t listen to me

lastly, Shouto out here immediately leaving U.A. after class and ruining my dreams of a class 2-A movie night. FINE THEN. GO AND BE WITH YOUR FAMILY my precious little life preserver. and I’m actually really, really excited to see what their endgame is actually, so yes, Horikoshi, bring it on please and thank you

[animeshotsh]

Forget me not? | Various x Kid!Reader

Summary: Charlie and Vaggie have been call to Heaven because of an....issue, they get to see you but do you ever knew them?

Warnings: Alternative Universe - Angst - Memory Loss - Sad!Charlie - Angry!Vaggie - Heaven vs Hell - OFF CANON - grammar mistakes -

When Charlie got a call from Heaven she was....well suprised and a bit hesitant about it. Not a lot was say, only that there was an issue and that they needed to talk to her as soon as possible.

Lucifer was against it and so were the rest. No one wanted to even know what this "problem" was, if Heaven was so desesperated to call Hell then it was their responsability to deal with it.

And so, weeks passed till Emily the only Angel who was open to the idea of Salvation when Charlie and Vaggie first went to Heaven talked to her and gave some small details of what was going on.

Charlie with a heavy heart went again with Vaggie, the looks they got were worse than last time. Some of the old Angels in charge of doing the "clean" in hell gave Vaggie the most nasty looks ever.

The meeting was once again with lots of high level Angels but Emily was not present (something both, Charlie and Vaggie noticed and made them worry a bit).

"Charlie Morningstar, we have called you today to Heaven because of a problem you have caused"

Seras started "When you said you could redeem souls no one here believed it. And most still dont" Some Angels nodded while others kept an emotionless face "But then something happened"

Seras made a big ice crystall appear showing no other no less than Sir Pentious himself. He was walking on Heaven streets looking different but still him, his eggs following behind. Emily was also besides him, they seemed to be going somewhere.

"Wait" Charlie said looking closer not beliving her eyes "Are you saying I was right? Souls can be redeem after all ?"

"According to our records this soul was in hell for quiet a long time, but then it appear here" Sera said looking over a book that had Sir Pentious name, below in red there was his time in hell and then a line, in blue it was a count up of his days in heaven.

"Then I was right!! I can redeem souls, extermination is no longer necesary, we can work together and-

"We did not call you because of that. This is a problem, a bizarre thing that should not be happening. Hell is there to punish sinners not to redeem them" Sera said in a cold voice

"What about purgatory?" Charlie asked remembering her old dad's books that talked about that place.

"That site was pointless and was shut it down long time ago" An Angel with green skin said from one side.

"Wait....how do we know this is not fake?" Vaggie said getting besides Charlie "How do we know Sir Pentious is indeed him there and not some trick"

"Are you acussing Heaven of lying?" An angel roared

"Yes, yes im. Bring him here and let us talk with him, alone" Vaggie demanded

~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Look there (Y/N) is!!" Emily exclaimed seeing you getting out from Heavens School and looking for them.

"Em!! Pen!!" You screamed running towards them showing your notebook with some draws and notes "Look! I learned this today, and I drew your eggs Pen!" You said moving to a different page, all Sir Pentious eggs went to look.

"Thats fantastic, should we get some ice cream?" Emily asked already going to pick you up when her phone sounded. She picked up going a bit away to listen better. Her face slowly falling.

"But Sera..."

"Just bring him here"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

The corridors did scare you a bit, making you hug Sir Pentious side. While the place itself was not scary something was off, you could not explain it

"Whats happening Pen? Why cant we go and get ice cream?"

Sir Pentious was just as lost as you. Emily did not give him much explaination and just teleported the three to this place.

"Its alright kiddo, we will get it later" He promised

A big door was now in front of them. Two guards besides it, they looked at Emily and nodded opening them.

Inside multiple eyes looked to see the three new faces inside the room.

Charlie turned, her heart beating fast fearing and wishing, fearing it was fake and wishing it had worked.

When her eyes saw Sir Pentious she could not hold her tears, she went to him and hugged him, not noticing you or Emily.

"Sir Pentious im so glad you are alive" Charlie cried feeling his tail wrap around her then getting away to look at him better.

Vaggie got closer too, seeing if there was some kind of angel spell but no, in front of her was the real Sir Pentious.

"Princess" He said bowing and holding his hat "I must say my thanks to you, you made possible this. And now I get to live again, as a better person"

Charlie was about to cry again when you appeared besides Sir Pentious.

"Pen? Who is this? Why are you bowing?" You asked confused

"(Y/N)....?" Charlie asked not beliving it "its really you?" Charlie asked again going down to your eye level

"Uhhhh how do you know my name?"

"What...its me! Charlie, your big sister, im so sorry i could not save you but now im here, everybody misses you at the Hotel" Charlie said going to reach for you but you took some steps back.

"I dont know you...and what hotel?"

Time stopped, silence filled the room, Charlie felt her heart shatter.

"What...its me, please dont play games now (Y/N)..."

"Princess" Sir Pentious tried to talk and explain but Vaggie was faster

"You....YOU WIPPED OUT THEIR MEMORIES!!" Vaggie screamed at Sera who did not flinch.

Emily looked at you confused for a moment then she connected it. The missing soul, the strange sinner kid that went to hell, then you being in heaven....

"Sera...."

"We did what we thoguht was the best for this soul. No one can imagine what it must have lived in hell. We wanted to give it a new start"

"THATS BULLSHIT" Charlie now furious responded, her horns coming out "You did this because you dont want to admit you did a mistake, you lost their soul thats why they ended in hell"

"You are doing serious acussations right now Morningstar"

"She is right!!" Sir Pentious backed up "I knew this kid in hell, they were there by mistake and then you..."

"You...you knew me?" You asked looking at Sir Pentious your eyes giving a strange glitch, him looking different, the sky being red, faces you could not put names on looking at you.

"W-what is this, make it stop it hurts" You said pulling your hands on your head

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THEM" Vaggie said getting her weapon out

"Their soul is weak, they cant bear the idea of have been to hell"

"Thats not true, their soul may be weak but its getting their memorys back whats making them feel pain" Emily said now completly broken as she carried you trying to less your pain

"Emily..."

"Their soul may fracture...."

"Thats it. We are done. We are taking (Y/N) back right now" Charlie said getting ready to leave

"You cant take a soul from heaven!!"

"BUT YOU CAN TAKE IT FROM HELL AND RE WRITE THEIR MEMORIES?"

"Sis.....sis make it stop" You said reaching to Charlie

"Morningstar if you continue with this, this soul wont be accepted in heaven again" Sera said pointing at Sir Pentious

"And i dont give a fuck about it! I want (Y/N) to feel better" He responded back

"Thats it. We are going now. Forget whatever plan you wanted to talk about, i cant- i cant work with beings like you" Charlie said getting towards the portal when a light came going to hit her back.

But was stopped

"Emily..."

"I cant believe....I cant believe you would do this!! This is a kid, a good kid! One who had a terrible life, not only did we lose their soul, you removed their memories too?"

"It was to protect them..."

"TELL ME THE TRUTH!!"

"...We cant let a soul be in heaven when it was in hell at first. Thats why Morningstar was called on the first place, her wish cant be made. We cant accept it. No matter if a soul can be redeem, its something that we cant let happen"

"Then..., then im going with them" Emily finished her resolve clear now "If you try to stop me i will show you why im younger but on the same level as you"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

"Whats this place?"

You asked now being in a room with Sir Pentious and his eggs

"This is a hotel and well, we will be living here from now on"

"...its true? Part of my memories are gone?"

"Im sorry kiddo, i promise it will get better"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Meanwhile in Lucifer's office

"Its a war then?" Lucifer asked Emily

"Its...i dont know, i came on my own because i want to protect (Y/N) too..."

Lucifer took a seat and a deep breath.

"If my father has not said anything then i believe we wont go to war because of (Y/N)..."

"Dad...they know souls can be redeem and yet they dont want to do it..." Charlie said "and they made (Y/N) forget us...how...."

"Charlie. Im just as angry as you. Trust me. But we cant just go to war like this.....but i never said there wont be any type of revenge"

[multimousenette]

bkdkbk longfic recs

for @miss-multifandom-mess, who wanted fics that are:

Long & completed ☑️

Good balance of genres: angst, comedy, romance, the package deal

Accurate bakudeku (as a pair and individually)

Great dynamic 👍

Izuku is not ‘feminized’ or made uwu

I'll give title (linked to the fic) & author, word count, rating, dynamic if relevant*, content warnings, major tags and a synopsis.

I'll also put them in the following categories:

Canon compliant: this does not disagree with canon in any way (eg. character study of Kacchan during dark hero arc, anything during the 8 year time skip that has Kacchan saving up/Deku teaching)

Canon consistent: yeah that could more or less be canon (eg future pro heroes especially where deku keeps OFA)

Canon divergent: something during canon actively changes, but the world is the same (eg. becoming friends in middle school, one of them is on a different course, pro heroes but my gut says it's too far away to be really canon consistent)

Canon adjacent: feels like canon except for one Major Thing (eg. omegaverse, (non-quirk related) hanahaki but still heroes)

Alternate Universe (AU): completely different universe (eg fantasy, sci-fi, or no quirks)

*it ended up being mostly either bkdkbk (ie switching) or dkbk -- I've highlighted these red just in case, but I've included them cos people tend to use bkdk for the ship generally if they don't have a preference, and I couldn't see anything saying you were fixed bkdk on your acc

... and I'll put them below the cut cos this is already so long oh my god

In order of word count (high -> low):

I Will Find You by Purple_Insomniac (174k, T, canon consistent)

CW: Alt universe character death

Major tags: Parallel universes, angst w a happy ending.

Deku disappears in the middle of a rescue mission. Turns out, thanks to some OFA weirdness, the person who sent Izuku into an alternate universe… doesn’t know which one he’s in. Somehow, Izuku and Katsuki can speak in the OFA Vestige Realm, but it’s still a total nightmare trying to find which universe Izuku’s in — let alone bringing him home.

For it is Something That We Lost by TheGraveyardChild (160k, E, top Deku, canon divergent)

CW: past domestic abuse, past child abuse.

Major tags: Kidfic, angst with a happy ending.

Number four pro hero Dynamight returns to his hometown, but — to (number five pro hero) Deku’s surprise — he’s kind of flaky now. Turns out, this is because he has a daughter, and they’ve only just escaped his abusive ex. Slowly, Katsuki and Deku grow close again, but everything’s complicated when they start work on a child kidnapping/trafficking case — especially when Katsuki’s daughter is caught up in it.

Halfway to the Moon (But the Sun is So Bright) by Catsired (105k, T, canon divergent)

CW: Graphic depictions of abuse and self harm; depressed & suicidal Izuku; physically, financially, emotionally and verbally abusive Hisashi; bullying; mild homophobia.

Major tags: Middle School AU, Slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending.

Izuku has a lot on his plate. It’s his final year of middle school and between his training with All Might, the part time job he’s picked up to help his mum with bills, and Kacchan… being Kacchan, he’s about ready to drop. And then his dad comes home, and his mum is so happy he can’t bear to tell her that Hisashi hits him. Meanwhile, Katsuki notices there’s something up with Shitty Deku and somehow decides it’s his responsibility to fix it. And maybe, as they grow closer, he finds that doesn’t hate Deku so much anymore. Maybe he never really did.

Surprise Reunions and Childhood Rekindlings by ladyofsnails (90k, G, AU)

Major tags: Slice of life, no quirks AU, uni/college AU, mutual pining, FLUFF.

Izuku and Katsuki haven’t seen each other in five years, but it turns out their friends are friends — and incredibly shocked (and concerned) when the first thing Katsuki and Izuku do upon meeting is start roughhousing. The two of them fall straight back into their chaotic childhood dynamic… and in love. Obviously.

After All We’ve Been Through (You get turned into a fucking rabbit) by TigerLilies64 (88k, E, switching, canon consistent).

Major tags: crack treated seriously, fluff, hurt/comfort.

Pro hero Deku gets hit by a quirk that turns him into a rabbit hybrid. To make matters worse, he shapeshifts into an actual rabbit when his heart rate gets too high. Kacchan... helps. 

Tidal Hearts by macksmilesback and SamIsNotLegend (83k, T, AU) 

Major tags: h2o just add water/early 2000s mermaid AU, high school drama, mild angst, fluff.

Izuku and Katsuki were best friends as kids, but that all changes after they nearly drown while swimming in the ocean and Inko moves her and Izuku away. Years later, they reunite, and after Katsuki saves Izuku from a nasty hazing prank, end up… growing a tail any time they get wet. Well, that’s one way to spend their senior year of high school!

The Spell in Her Name by MerryWeatherWeather (62k, E, top Katsuki, canon divergent)

CW: Past OC teacher/student relationship, past minor character death, past child abandonment.

Major tags: kidfic, domestic fluff, mutual pining, angst. 

Pro hero Katsuki returns from working in the US and due to some complications, has nowhere to live, so pitches up at Deku’s house — and is shocked to discover that Deku has a child. Turns out, she was abandoned on his doorstep as a baby, and he took her in. When her mother initiates a public custody battle, Deku will do anything to keep his daughter — and Kacchan will do anything to help.

just for your love (I’ll give you the world) by thwnderpoint (52k, E, top deku, canon consistent)

Major tags: idiots to lovers, (light) angst with a happy ending, mutual pining.

Katsuki confesses to Izuku, and Izuku doesn’t want Kacchan to suffer or feel like he has to hold back his feelings. So he tells him not to. Kacchan takes this offer and runs with it. Izuku quickly realises that while he hadn’t considered Kacchan as a romantic option, he is in fact absolutely in love with him… but Kacchan thinks Izuku deserves better than him. Izuku, of course, can’t let that stand. And now they’re engaged in some sort of psychological flirt-off, much to the dismay of everyone around them.

Photo Op by whitetail (50k, M, top deku, canon adjacent)

CW: transphobia, gender dysphoria

Note: I LOVE the characterisation of Deku, he’s an absolute disaster, but I can see that it might be love it or hate it as the author does exaggerate his social issues a lot. This Deku is explicitly, intentionally autistic and it's a close third person POV so we're very much in his head... which is kind of a mess.

Major tags: trans izuku, autistic izuku, massive simp kacchan, comedy of errors, miscommunication, light angst.

Pro hero Deku has PR crisis after PR crisis and now the whole world knows about his Dynamight thirst blog and he’s newly insecure about his bottom surgery. And for some reason, Kacchan won’t stop asking him (him!!) to join him for a photoshoot, as if Deku’s stupid ugly face won’t ruin everything again. Still, he can’t say no to Kacchan… 

In Another Life by hollyandvice (44k, M, canon consistent)

Major tags: Parallel universes, grief/mourning, angst with a happy ending.

While fighting a villain, Kacchan disappears. Turns out, the villain has a parallel universe swapping quirk, and he was aiming to swap number one hero Deku for a quirkless civilian. Except, the only world the villain could find where Deku isn’t a hero is one where Kacchan is dead — so when Katsuki took the blow, no one swapped with him, and now no one knows how to get him back. Meanwhile, Katsuki discovers a dystopian world where half his friends are dead or injured — not to mention this world’s Deku, who is all sorts of broken up over meeting an adult Kacchan. Will he be able to fix the problems with this world before he gets home? And which world will he choose to stay in?

last days of war by antisora (44k, M, AU)

Major tags: Pacific Rim AU, Sci-Fi/Dystopian, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings.

Note: I've never watched pacific rim and had no issues with understanding what was going on. Author said there were lots of references, but you don't need existing knowledge to enjoy this.

All Izuku’s ever wanted is to save the world with his best friend… but his life doesn’t seem to be headed in that direction, especially when he doesn’t make it through the physical entrance exam for the best Jaeger pilot training school, UA. But after seeing him ace a Kaiju simulation, the world’s greatest ranger, All Might, intervenes, and Izuku is able to enrol at UA after all. Unsurprisingly, Kacchan’s there too — and their drift compatibility is through the roof. Much to Izuku’s dismay, even piloting a Jaeger together isn’t enough to regain their close friendship as children. Will almost dying (twice) be enough for them to finally be truly honest with each other?

The Time Between Our Lives by Fitzrovia (36k (56k inc. sequels), E, switching, canon divergent and AU)

Major tags: Hurt/comfort, angst w a happy ending.

Deku and Kacchan are sent back in time by a villain’s quirk and end up in an abandoned temple, quirkless. In order to escape — and return to their old lives — they must rake the gravel in the garden into a design that shows the beauty of all life. It takes a very, very long time.

Spacewalk by SamIsNotLegend (35k, M, AU)

CW: Major character death

Major tags: Sci-Fi/Horror, angst w a happy ending, grief/mourning.

Astronauts Izuku and Katsuki are set to co-lead the first manned mission to Jupiter… but a year and a half before launch, Izuku is hit by a car and dies. Katsuki has to lead the mission — their mission — alone, and sure enough, everything goes wrong. And keeps going wrong… until it starts going right. 

and a bonus totally-not-a-longfic-but-it-slaps:

Vertigo by Cyhyr (15k, T, canon adjacent)

Major tags: hanahaki, angst with a happy ending.

Pro hero Deku has hanahaki. He makes a plan to run away and just... die (when it gets too severe to keep working), but he didn’t account for Kacchan. 

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (cunnilingus, piv, choking, degradation, slight sadism), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: again the high valyrian is internet translated so lol. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. might make another poll for next chapter stay tuned. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat

Taking you to the hidden stream was simultaneously the best and worst decision Erryk's ever made in his life. The look of you was holy. His intense focus on your form was to ensure your safety, but, by the gods, it felt sinful to behold your dark hair and light fabric ebbing in the water.

He had hoped a swim would lift your spirits, just as flower picking did, but he did not know it would draw such a tempest out of you. It was as though you were reborn. You plunged into the water and shed all your inhibitions. Your voice became brighter, as did your eyes. You were flooded with more than a dozen memories of you and your twin swimming in the river near your home in Oldtown, and you recounted all of them so excitedly to Erryk.

"Oh!' you exclaim, flipping in the water to get to your feet. You point to something behind your ward, making him turn around. In that split second, you hold in your laughter and grab something from the mossy rocks. Innocently, you say, "that reminds me of something."

Erryk turns back to you, brows knit in confusion. When you you make your way towards him, he clenches his jaw and averts his gaze. The shift you were swimming in was stuck flush on your body, leaving little to his imagination. He was glad to have the foresight to bring you a change of clothes and a towel, and, my, was the pattern on the said towel so very interesting.

"What is a frogs favorite game?" you ask so suddenly.

Erryk turns to you, brows furrowing, "pardon?"

"Tell me the frogs' favorite game, ser," you repeat as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Frogs favored game?" he repeats slowly, realizing now that your expression was mockingly innocent. He hums, "I cannot say I-"

"HOPSCOTCH!"

A frog comes leaping into Erryk's face, nearly causing him to topple as he dodges it. He's so flabbergasted by the turn of events, he calls out your name in offence. He is doubly offended by your laughter. His eyes go wide as you hunch forward, leaning on your knees.

"Villain," your ward mutters, scoffing far too many times.

You can barely catch your breath. You fan your face, "frog-ive me."

Erryk's face only contorts further.

"I could not-" you gasp for air, "could not help it."

In truth, if it was any other who did such a childish thing, he'd have shoved them in the water. Alas, you appeared only more beauteous as you made him a fool.

"Forgive me," you repeat in more serious manner, "Gwayne used to scare me this way often. I wished only to know how it felt, and now..." you giggle, "I can't say I blame my brother for constantly pulling tricks on me."

He huffs and shakes his head, "well. I'm glad to have pleased you, my ever-so-kind princess."

You offer him a guilty smile, "apologies."

Erryk shakes his head, "no. Truly. I am glad to see you in such a state."

You fidget with your fingers as a shiver runs down your spine.

He is quick to unravel your towel. He places it on your shoulders, "perhaps we should go back. The sunset is nigh."

You nod, taking your change of clothes from him next.

He turns around offering you your privacy. It takes a while, but you manage to dress yourself. Once you had your shoes on, you dry your hair with your towel and take his arm, "would you please lace up my dress?"

He nods, avoiding your gaze as he feels his face burn. He quickly laces you up then you return to the Keep.

You both had been laughing, up until you made it past the castle gates, promptly being silenced by the loud shout, "PRINCESS!"

Arryk runs over, charging for his brother. Their steel plates collide as Arryk yanks his twin, "where in gods name did you take her?"

Erryk furrows his brows, "we visited a stream-"

"The Keep is in disarray!" Arryk grits his teeth, hissing under his breath, "everyone's looking for her. Everyone."

You watch the twins huddle close and bicker. As it escalates, you try try to come between them, "Arryk. I was the one who asked him to take me outside the keep."

Arryk does not hear you at first, dead set on arguing with his twin. When you repeat your words the second time however, he turns to you, face softening a fraction. He knits his brows turning back to this brother, whispering something that makes Erryk turn to you with wide eyes, "fuck."

"Why?" you look at them in concern, "what it is?"

Arryk opens his mouth, but Erryk grabs his arm and says, "wait."

"There's no other way to say it," Arryk snaps, ripping his arm out his grip.

"Say what?" you knit your brows.

Arryk turns back to you, then lowers his gaze, "the queen... the queen has passed."

Your jaw drops. Your eyes widen. Your hand immediately covers your mouth. The three of you do not speak for a prolonged moment.

You feel your stomach roll, "w-what happened?"

"She could not deliver the babe herself. The maesters... had to intervene."

Intervene? You could not possibly understand what that could mean, and you find that you do not want to. You shake your head, "and her babe? Is- is her babe well at least?"

Arryk clenches his jaw, "she sired a prince named Baelon... he apparently grows weaker by the hour."

You feel bile rise up your throat.

"Your father and your siblings have been looking for you since news broke."

You shake your head, and gather your skirts.

"As has the prince."

Your face twitches at the thought. You do not delay and make your way inside the Keep.

As you tread the halls, you think about what the queen told you just mere hours ago. There is a sharp twinge in your belly as simultaneously remember how Aemma told you to go cheer for Daemon at the tourney and realize you will never hear a word from her ever again. The thought washes over you like water on the beach, sobering but thankfully not overwhelming.

You hadn't realized you had your head bowed until you hear your name called. You still as you look up, the twins halt behind you.

Otto marches over, brows and jaw tight as ever, "where in gods name have you been?"

You straighten your back as he stops before you, "I-"

"Your wards are double," he turns to the kingsguards, "and doubly useless, it seems."

"Father," you step into his line of sight, "do relieve your rage on them."

Your father turns back to you, expression softening a fraction at your referral. You had not called him father since your argument in the maester's office. He looks at you— takes a good look at you and your sad eyes, your knit brows, your frowning lips. Your hair was darker than it was normally, and as he reaches out for it, he found it was, in fact, damp, "where have you been?"

"I..." you gulp and take a deep breath, "went swimming."

He releases your hair, tilting his head, "with whom? Gwayne has gone."

You pull your head back, "G-Gwayne's gone?"

"The tourney is over. The road is long. He has no reason to stay," Otto says.

Your brows tighten as you shake your head, "he... he didn't... wait for me?"

Otto watches your lips quiver. He watches your nose twitch. When your chest begins to visibly rise and fall, he shakes his head, "what did I tell you?"

You stare blankly at him.

He takes your hands, "what is it I always tell you?"

You clench your jaw and huff through your nostrils, "do not waste your tears on things you cannot change."

Otto rubs your knuckles as he shakes his head again. He gives the Cargyll brothers a look before walking off with you. They make sure to keep their distance before following after.

You turn to your father as he links your arm into his. You are certain, with how he cannot look at you, that he means to tell you something grave. You look front and mimic his demeanor— distant, cold. You are his daughter, face and temperance.

"You enjoyed your swim at least?" he starts, "you are calm?"

You gulp, mentally preparing yourself for what will surely come next. Your voice still falters though, "ye-s."

Otto nods, still not turning to you, "many has occurred since your marriage to Daemon. You admitted you did not consummate your marriage on your wedding night and I was deeply concerned you would fail your duties in producing heirs, especially if your husband was not interested in you."

Your jaw clenches.

"But with the apparent... change of heart your husband has shown, you should know I've had the maesters closely monitor your state."

You knit your brows at that, "you mean my affliction?"

He speaks your name slowly before continuing, "as of yesterday, they have confirmed to me that you are with child."

You whip your head to him and pull away.

Otto does not look at you with the same sense of urgency.

"W-what?"

He sees the fear on your features. He offers a solemn expression and takes your cheeks when your eyes water, "this is good. You should delight, not tremble."

You try to speak but nothing coherent comes out.

"The Queen is dead. Go to your husband and comfort him with this news."

Your mouth goes dry and your father wipes the tears that fall from your eyes. He your name softly. Your sad face looks the exact same it did when his wife died. My baby is having a baby. He frowns and pulls away.

You try to take his hand, but he slips away.

"See her off," the Hand instructs your wards.

Erryk is quick to go to your side, whereas Arryk stares at the back of Otto's head, his lips curling as he did.

"Princess," Erryk says, cautiously reaching your arm.

You turn to him with wide eyes before scratching your tears away, "I-"

"Perhaps you should sit down first."

You pull away from him before he can touch you. The action makes Erryk pull back, an unsavory sensation spreading in his mouth and belly.

"I want to- I—" you take a breath, "I need to find-" you shake your head and begin speeding down the hall.

You were nearly about to break into a sprint, and your wards had to jog up to your side to keep up with you. You don't really know where you're going, but you're getting there, fast.

"Princess, please, slow down," one says.

You can feel your breath and your pulse in your ears.

"Princess."

You find yourself in the halls near one of the gate of the keep. The only reason why you stop is because you hear the voice of your twin. Your breath catches as you lurch towards the window. Gwayne was laughing with one of the guards, already on his horse. Your brows furrow, he couldn't possibly be well enough to be riding on horseback.

You realize quickly this is your last opportunity to go be with your brother, to pull him into an embrace, to worry on him, to tell him your worries, to kiss him goodbye. You know you have to act now and swiftly, but you cannot seem to move.

Your mind is heavy as you think about how your brother is set to leave regardless of your desire to keep close; he said it himself, his place can never be at your side. Though he is the only person who've ever relied on, you know now— you rub your belly, that can no longer be the case. There is only one person you can rely on now... yourself.

It is painful to pull away from the window, but you do, clenching your hands into fists before walking away.

You don't really walk away however, because then, you're frozen in place at the sight of your husband standing a few paces away from you, "Daemon."

He stares at you wordlessly.

You walk towards him, careful as you drag your feet.

He tilts his head and clenches his jaw, "he's leaving any moment now."

You nod, "I know."

"Go to him," he says softly.

"I-"

"Go to him!" he snaps.

You stiffen at his expression. You were adept with anger but he did not look angry. You stop in your tracks, trying to make sense of his restless figure.

Daemon watches you fidget with your fingers.

"If it is your command, I shall obey."

He chuckles dryly, pacing around his spot. He wipes his mouth then charges over, stopping just in front of you. He scoffs when you do not flinch, in disbelief of your constitution. His nostrils flare, "you know my feelings towards your twin."

You slowly shrug, "then you'll be glad to know I came looking for you."

Daemon does not move.

"You know how I feel about my brother..." you mutter, "but..." you lower your gaze, "I'm coming to terms with the fact I can no longer rely on him... it will be better this way."

It takes a moment, but Daemon chuckles. When you look up and his smirk fades. Your beady eyes make it hard to find satisfaction. "So, you will not go to him?" he asks.

You stare.

"You do not want to go to him?"

Your lips part.

He raises his brows.

"I... I do."

Anger rises up his belly, but as if on cue, the sound of horses and carriages moving is heard. You clench your jaw and lower you gaze to prevent yourself from looking back at the window. The prince cannot seem to win, for he should be pleased you did not see your brother off, and yet your sadness leaves sour jealousy in his mouth— he was your husband.

The Cargyll twins look upon you both, appalled by the cruelty of the prince to keep you here as Gwayne leaves for good. Erryk in particular feels restless, unable to stop shifting and fidgeting with his scabbard.

"Shall... shall we go?" you mutter, slowly looking up.

Daemon watches you place a hand on his bicep. He responds only by following you after giving your wards a dismissive look.

The brothers turn to each other, each as unwilling as the other to leave you, but they do anyway.

Daemon is acutely aware of the warmth of your cheek against his arm as you tread down the halls. When, you arrive at your marriage chambers, Daemon opens the door and you notice the bandage wrapped around his hand. He struggles because of this. Once you're inside, you take his arm, eyes trained on his injury, "what happened to your hand?"

Daemon's eyes are fixed on the line between your brows.

"Did you break it?" you turn to him with furrowed eyes.

He pulls away slowly. He wants to know what you'd do next.

"Did you wrap it yourself? It's badly done."

He faintly snorts, "it's on my right hand."

"I'll do it for you," you say, walking towards the vanity.

Daemon follows, watching you procure scissors and vials and other things. You turn to him, motioning to the chair. He sits down, gaze fixed upon you as you take his arm again.

Your eyes are focused on undoing his wrap, "tell me if it hurts,"

His are fixed on your focused expression, "you should sit down."

"I'm fine."

"I want you to sit down," he uses his other hand to grab your wrist.

You stop and turn to him. You turn to the chair across the room but Daemon prevents you from doing so and simply spreads legs, pulling you between his thighs. Quickly, you are sat on his lap and tense look at him. He offers you his injured hand again as his other goes around you, clinging to your hip. He pulls you in, leaning his head against yours to say, "it's a cut, by the way."

You furrow your brows at his admission. You allow yourself a moment to relax before continuing your task. You find it is, in fact, a cut, deep and ugly, "did your lance splinter very badly?"

"No."

You furrow your brows deeper as you turn to him,

"This is glass."

"Glass?" you brow raise, "how did you hurt your hand with glass?"

Daemon licks his lips as he looks at yours. He shrugs, "I broke a bottle."

You pull your head back, "on accident?"

"On purpose," he tilts his head.

You huff and start cleaning his wound, "was the violence in the tourney insufficient?"

He chuckles through his nostrils, "I did not fucking win."

You smear balm on his wound. You do not reply.

It makes him clench his jaw, "and you..."

"..."

"You were not there."

You do not tear your gaze from his injury.

He grumbles, "did you even hear me?"

You lift your gaze then raise brow at him, "you did not want me there. Do you not recall how you cursed at me?"

Your gall makes anger rise up his throat.

You continue wrapping up his hand.

"Well, you were being a bitch," he snaps.

"Why?"

His brows furrow.

"Why was I being a bitch?"

"..."

You spare him a quick glace.

He pulls his head back, "... what?"

"Did I not do my duty?" you turn to him, face blank, "I followed you, congratulated you, inquired of your injuries. I submitted to your desires. Where did I err?" You ask in earnest, "what do you want from me?"

His face contorts. Now that he was faced with such an opportunity, he finds himself unable to speak. What did he want from you?

You wait for him to reply. You prepare yourself for preposterous requirements but you are met only his silence. In that moment, you remember he was just a man. Many a man enjoyed making women suffer. You gulp, thinking about your father.

Perhaps your father was lying. Perhaps he wants you to believe you are with child to get even. After all, Daemon never... finished in you. How then could you be with child?

You secure the binding on his hand, "it is finished."

Daemon does not bother looking at his hand.

"How do you feel?"

He feels a strong urge to shake you... to pull you close.

"My deepest sympathies for the death of your cousin."

He freezes. Right. The queen was dead. He lowers his gaze.

You frown and reach for his cheek. You second guess however and bring your palm to his shoulder instead, "I am here for you, my prince."

His eyes meet yours.

"I am here to care and comfort you."

He leans back, taken by the thought.

You drink in his demeanor, the softness in his eyes, the tension that falls of his shoulders. You release a breath, "if that is what you desire, speak plainly, and do not repel me. Do not ask me to leave if, in fact, you want me to stay."

His throat tightens. He feels like he is ensnared in a bear trap. He rips at his collar, "I... I have other injuries." He pushes you off and paces around as he undoes his top. It is a struggle for him, but he cannot stop or stay still, "cuts and bruises."

You watch as he fidgets and slowly walk over.

"I don't-"

"Daemon."

He stills.

You come in front of him and undo his top yourself. You drop it mindlessly, and once he is bare, he feels conscious under your scrutiny for some reason. You brush your fingers on his ribs, making goosebumps form on his skin. He can't say that that has ever happened to him before. You notice and rub his arms, eyes locked on his torso.

He feels himself getting hard.

"Did you tend to these yourself as well?" you brush over a cut on his hip.

Oh. You were still examining him. He only hums in response.

You frown, "did no maester come to your tent?"

"I..." he starts.

You circle around him, inspecting for other injuries.

"...wanted you to come to my tent."

You come to his side. He finds the frown on your face. You take a moment before saying, "you tended to your wounds well at least."

"I want you."

You nod, "I will tend to you—"

Daemon takes your nape, lowering his head to kiss your lips. It takes a moment for you to relax, and his belly burns at the sound you make when you do. Your hands come to his sides and your nails graze faintly into his flesh.

He pushes you back until your laid on the bed beneath him. His kisses trail down your skin as he works to get you naked. He kisses your shoulder, then your sternum. He makes sure to lick your breast and leave a mark on your rib before peppering kisses down your belly.

Your breath grows heavy when he lingers by your womb, sucking kisses on your skin. Your throat tightens think of your father's words again. It makes you tense, and Daemon feels it. Of course, he doesn't know about your conversation with Otto, and thinks your tension comes from your self-consciousness.

You lift your head, pulling a pillow beneath it, and look down at your husband. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his silver hair, "Daemon."

He hums, nipping your flesh in response.

You try to sit up, "D-Daemon, I-"

He shushes you, pushing down on your hip bone. He looks up at you, muttering something in High Valyrian.

"Please, Daemon, wait-"

"Be still," he says, violet eyes hooded, "do I not take care of you?"

Your breath hitches as he sinks down.

"Do you not enjoy my mouth?"

"I- that's not-"

"Do you or do you not?"

"I... I do—"

You are not able to speak after he buries his face between your thighs. You are reduced to breathy cries and a twisting spine. Daemon, though he continues to hold you down, relishes every second of it and feasts more ardently. He sighs, securing your thighs on his shoulders, nudging his face deeper into you, his nose brushing against your pearl.

He relishes how quickly your wetness builds, and soon, he feels your arousal dribbling down his chin. He moans, nails biting crescent moons into your skin. Your belly rises and falls in sync with the crescendo of your mewls. At this point, both your hands are tangled into his hair, and your pulling and scratching only further inspires his tongue.

You call out his name, screwing your eyes shut as you throw your head back and arch your body. Quickly, your belly tightens and you sequentially dig your heels into his shoulder blades. He squeezes your thighs enough to make them bruise, and yet the pain is what pushes you into orgasm, garnering a lewd and loud sound from your mouth.

Daemon hums, lifting his face just enough to see yours as he brings you to peak. He moans at your expression, grinding his hips into the cushion, desperate for friction.

Your body trembles, unable to settle as his burning mouth persists on your molten mound. You begin to squeak and he catches the moment you open your eyes to look at him all teary. It drives him mad. With a deep inhale, he pulls away, wiping his chin before he undoes his breeches.

You relax and catch your breath, hands dropping to your sides.

Daemon watches you, your trembling legs glistening with the pleasure he's drawn out. He can feel himself throbbing in his pants. You watch as he hastily frees himself. Though your head was hazy and your body was tried, your belly burned at sight of the sticky liquid dripping down your husband's neck.

"Fuck, Daemon," you reach for his belly. You trace his defined muscles with your finger tips. He snatches your hands when he finally pushes his pants down.

You squeak when he pushes you to your side, one hand on your shoulder, another hiking your leg up by the knee. You whine as he folds you into the sheets just before sliding his hardened cock in your wet cunt.

He hisses, leaning down to your neck. His words are hot against your skin, but you understand nothing.

Whatever tenderness he had before was gone, now he was just fucking you like a rabid animal. Daemon could not help himself, he loved how supple and pliable you were, and twists you into a form that keeps you prone. When the bed begins to creak because of his thrusts, he holds you down where your neck and collarbone meet. He puts enough pressure to restrict your breathing, but not enough to choke out your pretty noises.

At some point, he decides your leg is getting in the way and pushes you flat on your chest. He then gathers you by the hip, hiking you up enough to fuck you nicely from behind.

His thrusts are more intense now. You scream into the cushion as you find your elbows. Before you can prop yourself up though, he's pinning you down by the shoulder, saying something in High Valyrian again.

"D-Daemon," you whine, left cheek smushed against your pillow. You could feel your next climax building quickly.

He responds by rubbing your clit, drawing tears and another scream out of you because of your sensitivity.

You feel yourself helplessly clenching and unclenching around him, absolutely boneless under his vigorous intrusion. You could feel your knees slipping but Daemon's grip on you would not see you move from your position. Your toes curl. Saliva drips out your open mouth.

"Māzigon va, riña," he snorts, "sepār mirrī angotan tolī." Come on, girl. Just a little bit more."

You do not understand, so you only whine out, "Daemon."

Daemon growls and rubs one side of your ass, "you're doing so good for me."

He spanks you, but that's not what makes your eyes open.

"Milk my cock with your tight cunny, come slut."

You begin to grit your teeth.

"I want to see my seed dripping down your thighs," he groans, mind unable to focus on anything but the hot, wet slapping of your skin.

It's unsurprising that you come first, as Daemon always assures you do to underscore his control and dominance over you. He yelps out a sharp fuck, nearly coming in your cunt because of how your body seizes up around him. Your orgasm overwhelming, yet your eyes water for more than this reason. His words make you aware your husband sees you nothing more as a vessel for pleasure, and your pleasure is regretfully cut short because of how sharply he pulls out, his load spraying on your already dripping labia and pubic hair.

He strokes himself a few times, feeling his cock twitch in his hand as he watches your mixed come trickle down your legs. He sighs, "fuck," then scoops the cream in two fingers, plunging it in and out your still spasming cunt.

You squeal when he finger fucks you, body unable to remain upright. You are grateful he loses interest rather quickly and crumble into the bed as he stands.

You watch him walk over to the drawer, where he then pours himself some wine. You gulp, remembering your dream from last night. It sobers you out your high. You clench your jaw and roll over to clean yourself up. You head to your vanity and wipe yourself down, grabbing your robe was you do.

Daemon, whose thirst was now quenched, turns back to you with a towel. He is confused to see you standing. He watches you flip your hair behind you, pulling it out of your robe, which you then secure around yourself. He knits his brows as he walks over, "what are you doing?"

You turn to him, sitting on the vanity chair, "getting ready for bed."

Daemon stares, and you take his prolonged silence as an indication to proceed with your nightly routine.

The prince squeezes the damp towel in his hand as he watches you brush your hair. You catch his stillness from the mirror and turn back to him, "oh."

You drop your brush and take the towel from him, "I'll help you clean up."

Normally, he enjoyed this, but right now, he can't. He is offended when you begin to pick up his clothes, so much that he scoffs, "the fuck are you doing?"

You halt midway picking up his trousers. You stand and turn to the closet, "ah. Did you want new clothes?"

He pulls his head back, no longer offended, but hurt, "you want me to leave?"

You are caught off guard by his question. You stare at him for a moment, unsure if he was serious. You could not identify his expression, so you did not know if you tell him the truth. You would not survive being berated after confessing you wanted to sleep with him. You dodge the answer altogether, "weren't you leaving anyway?"

Daemon's cheeks tense. He huffs, stepping forward, yanking his clothes out of your hands, "no."

You are bewildered by his actions, for to you, his actions are sudden. You are petrified in fear, which is why you instinctively begin to apologize, "f-forgive me, I-I-"

His nostrils flare and his jaw sets.

"I-" you motion with a hand, "- you always leave."

His clenches his jaw, "do you want me to leave?"

"I—" your throat tightens and soon you can no longer look at him. You want to beg him to stay, but you recall how you did that with your father, and your mother, and your brother— begging does not make people stay. You whisper, "I... I'm terrified."

When you lift your gaze, Daemon shirks and decided to dress. He gulps as he pulls his trousers up, turning back to you. He clenches his fist before reaching out for you.

Your heart races as he takes your hand.

"You've served me well. If you are terrified... I'll leave you."

You whimper when he pulls away, holding him tighter than he did before your hands part. Your lips quiver. He knits his brows. You shake your head, "I- I... I do not want you to go."

He is taken off guard by how you suddenly embrace him.

"Please," you beg, though you knew it would not serve you well, "stay."

He turned to stone. He cannot seem to move at all but your arms are determined to stay around him. You begin to weep against his skin and he can feel your breath grow ragged. Only then does he manage to return your affection.

He brushes your dark hair away from your face and cradles you against him.

"Daemon."

He leans into you, enough to be able to brush his cheek against yours, "kesan umbagon." I will stay.

You sniffle then sigh. After a while, you ask, "what does that mean?"

"I will stay."

You sigh again, pulling away to look at him. You offer him a sad smile, "thank you."

He frowns, wiping your tears.

When you go back to bed, you offer him space in case you've made him uncomfortable. He stares at you, awaiting your embrace. You are mere inches apart but it feels like yards and yards.

"Good night, husband," you say before turning over.

He chuckles dryly, staring at your dark hair. He turns to the ceiling, "good night."

[aerkame]

Alright I read your request rules and I’m ready to request!

Wally Darling x Curious Reader

You know that little fic you made where you wrote the puppets coming into the real world? (I commented on it!)——I hope you wouldn’t mind me trying to branch off it! Imaging it happening to me, I would actually like to inspect Wally since he’s clearly not human. Of course, with consent. I would open his mouth- see what’s inside, touch his felt, his hair, all of it.

And I’d imagine he’d be curious about us too.

Sorry for this being a bit late, I wanted a short break from writing and drawing all day. Also I'm perfectly fine with that being branched off of! Most of my previous posts are kind of like foundations for future fics and requests to go off of.

Also for the sake of simplicity I will just call this an AU(Alternate Universe). The Alive AU. It's exactly what it sounds like, the puppets come to life but as their cartoon selves in the real world and are capable of going back to their own world at any time. (Wally needs to do that though or they're stuck, he knows what he's doing). I'm also doing this so that in the future when we do have answers to Welcome Home, it won't interfere with theories or what is considered "canon". This request is based on a previous post (linked below this), for context.

Just a Little Look

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Out of all the other 'puppets', Wally was the one you were most curious and cautious about. It wasn't that he ate differently, it wasn't because his eyes looked different from the rest, and it wasn't because he was always staring at you. No, it was the way he acted. He acted like he's done this before. The whole going into this world and not being a normal puppet bit. You decided that you might as well ask Wally if you could feel him or look inside his mouth...maybe not that first one though, that might come out as weird to him and the others. It's not like he had a reason to say no really, you were just curious.

The 'puppet' with an Elvis cut was sitting down on your couch one leg crossed over the other like the distinguished dude that he was, face buried in a newspaper from this morning. You don't remember teaching him how to read the newspaper, where did he even get that? "Hey Wally..." You shuffled your foot a bit, getting somewhat anxious. "Can I look in your mouth?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from reading the paper with an almost dreamy look to him. "Can I look in your mouth?" You repeated the question, this time he heard you as his head tilted to the side. "Now what would you want to look in my mouth for?" His voice was as calm as usual, though he did have a bit of a smirk today.

"I'm just curious is all, you're not like the others and I've never seen what you guys look like on the inside." You gestured to the inside of your mouth, sticking your tongue out. Wally slowly got up from the couch and leaned over you, smirk still lingering on his face. "Well, I don't see why not, but I'll only let you look inside me if you let me look inside you." You nodded, excited to finally get a look. "Alright, sounds fair." You responded as Wally folded up the newspaper and neatly placed it on the coffee table.

Bending down, Wally opened his mouth quite a bit to let you look, making a small "Ahhh~" like a child would when letting a doctor look at their throat. You peered over to see inside. It was what a normal puppet mouth would look like save for the small black void at the back of the 'throat'. You're not even going to question how Wally speaks or eats, nothing surprises you anymore at this point. Kind of weird to see what is basically a tiny void though.

He closed his mouth once you were done looking before leaning closer to softly grab your face in his hands. It wasn't what you'd thought it'd feel like. You were expecting something like felt, but that wasn't it. It was some other material you've never felt before, it was soft and smooth like silk, but not in a sense that it was fabric. "I believe it's my turn to see the inside of your mouth now." You nodded quietly and opened your mouth as wide as you could, showing off your canines and molars.

It was awkwardly quiet in the living room for a while and you slowly found yourself leaning further and further into the soft hands that held your head up earning a small chuckle from Wally. "Tired?" You nodded. It's been a rough week both from your job getting busy and you being busy at the house trying to keep your new guests out of trouble. "It's like I'm taking care of a bunch of kids.." You mumbled into his hands.

"How about you take a good nap then, you'll be up and full of that energy you need." There it was again. You could feel him staring at you with those eyes. You were too tired to say anything this time though and opted for just getting up and heading to your room. Leaving behind a still smirking Wally.

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I told you guys, I write medium to long posts even if they take a while.

Next up? Barnaby and Wally teach the dear reader how to slow dance. :)

[ckret2]

What do you think of the theory that there is only one Bill, stretched out across an infinite number of different dimensions, making every Bill being connected, so, when Canon!Bill was destroyed, every Bill was destroyed in all other possible parallel realities as well?

I think "there's only one Bill capable of interacting with all realities" causes problems (so why didn't he just not go to timelines where he loses and steer toward timelines where he clearly and easily wins? Or take the techniques he uses to win in one timeline and use them in all timelines? And how come ONLY Bill works like that when everyone else can fork into a billion timelines no problem? And why should ONE version of him dying kill all of them? And what does that mean for other timelines where Bill won and then, through no action of the heroes' own, he just suddenly dies and disappears and everything's fine? Sounds lame. And does that mean he is ALSO Anti-Bill, and if so, why's he acting sweet in only one dimension and why doesn't he act like that in any others?)

and I think "every timeline can have its own Bill" causes problems (so does that mean there are many parallel nightmare realms, even though it's supposed to be THE central hub of all the multiverse & all its timelines? Or is there only one Nightmare Realm, and if so do a billion Bills live there? And wouldn't that mean there are a ton of timelines where Bill DID win—and if so, why do we never see them or explore the consequences on the stability of the broader multiverse, considering that those universes are probably destroyed now? And why aren't there a huge ton of loser Bills in Theraprism together? Why's there no evidence of Bill keeping close tabs on what his alternates are doing the way he keeps close tabs on the Pines of other timelines?)

and I think "there's only one Bill ever and he can only interact with one timeline at a time" causes problems (so, again, what about Anti-Bill? Is that just Bill acting weird for no reason? And if he can see a broad spectrum of how timelines will probably turn out, what stopped him from steering toward a timeline where his odds of triumph are so high as to be functionally guaranteed? If he was a solo person working on multiple timelines at once, why didn't he, say, just lose interest in 46'\ when Ford turned on him and switch his focus to some timeline out there where Ford kept working for him? Why don't we ever hear about the dynamics he had with multiples of the same person in different dimensions? Either failing with one person here but succeeding with them over there, OR failing with the same person over and over in every timeline, would carry a very different vibe than failing with one person once. And, again—why is Bull the ONLY one who works like this?)

tbh parallel timelines in Gravity Falls just opens up internal logical problems that its own story isn't equipped to solve.

So my official stance is I'm not interested and I'm not going to explore it.