#once he's rested and reunited with his loved ones and settled in do you think all that adrenaline comes crashing down?

[rhythm-of-space]

uh oh it's think about josh hours

[fastandcarlos]

When He Pulls You Into His Hold » F1 Reaction

» Max Verstappen

Making you jump is one of Max’s favourite things to do, and so he tends to pull you into his hold when you least expect it. The way your face flashes with panic makes him chuckle until you look back and realise that it’s only Max, allowing your expression to settle back into a smile. As much as you want to hit him for making you jump in terror, you can’t help but just relax into Max’s hold and rest your head against his chest whilst his fingers dance through your his, especially once he begins to kiss against the top of your head.

» Lando Norris

Usually Lando will hold onto you whenever he starts to feel his anxiety creeping in. He holds you to feel secure and loved, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he feels your hands over his arm. “You good bub?” You often whisper back to him, feeling his head nod against your bare skin as he struggles to find the words. Having you to squeeze is the perfect distraction for Lando, switching off and escaping into the bubble of only you and him. Whenever he can feel his heartbeat quicken, he searches for you to bring him back again.

» Charles LeClerc

You could be forgiven for thinking that Charles isn’t paying attention to you a lot when he pulls you into his hold, but actually, he does. His mind wonders to think about you when he’s doing even the most boring of jobs: scrolling through his phone; pretending to listen to someone talk or when you’re getting ready for bed. Those are the moments when he wants you closest the most as the feeling of you right beside him brightens any moment and brings a smile to his face as soon as your eyes meet, sending Charles into a melting mess.

» Carlos Sainz

Sleepy Carlos is definitely the favourite version of him that you love holding onto. His grip is tight to begin with but slowly loosens as he finds himself relaxing more around you. A faint whisper of your name will call through and let you know that he wants you, being the big spoon around you as you tell him about your day. A cuddle and your voice are the perfect combination to leave Carlos feeling weary, and soon enough you can usually hear the faint sounds of snores coming from behind you as Carlos settles holding on to his comfort person.

» George Russell

Whenever he misses you, George is there and holding onto you tightly so that he can familiarise himself with you. No moment is better for you both then that first hug, when George holds onto you a little tighter and for a little longer. There are never any words between the two of you, just the way that you hold onto one another tells you both exactly how the other is feeling and just how much you’ve both been missed. The embrace makes both of youth warts race and releases several signs of relief from you both as you’re reunited again.

» Daniel Ricciardo

You expect Daniel to pull you into his hold whenever you’re within reaching distance, it’s a habit for him that makes his heart happy having you right there beside him. There’s almost a smirk on your face whenever you think that you’ve managed to pass Daniel, but at the last minute his hand wraps around your wrists and pulls you as close as he possibly can. His bright smile meets you as you glance up, “didn’t think you’d get away that easily, did you?” He can’t help but tease, kissing against your temple as your head shakes at his sniggers.

» Oscar Piastri

More than most Oscar likes to hold you as it’s his way of protecting you and making sure that you’re close by. “I got you,” he’ll often whisper to you before pressing a kiss against your cheek in amongst the chaos that engulfs your busy lives. Oscar prefers to have his arm wrapped tightly around you, but if he’s only able to intertwine one of his fingers in with yours, he’ll reluctantly take it, searching for more, as long as he can hold onto you somehow and reassure you that you’re not alone then that’s all that matters to him.

» Pierre Gasly

Teasing cuddles are Pierre’s absolute favourite, he’ll love to hold onto you and do something that will make you resist against him. “Not today,” he’ll whisper against your neck, using his hot breath to send a shiver down your spine, or he’ll pinch against your waist to tickle against your bare skin as your shirt rides up, tightening his grip ever so slightly so that you can’t get away from him. Anything Pierre can do to get you to plead with him and hear you murmur against his name in between laughter he’ll try his absolute best to succeed at.

» Lewis Hamilton

Holding onto you is a subconscious thing for Lewis, without even thinking his arms reach out to you and make sure that you’re as close to him as your bodies will allow. He could be in an important meeting or listening to an important person, but that doesn’t stop his fingertips from brushing against your body or his chin resting against your shoulder gently. It often sends shivers down your spine as you hear his hums just underneath your ear as he acknowledges what is going on around him, despite his mind mostly just being filled with thoughts of you.

» Lance Stroll

More than anything else it’s habit for Lance to be holding onto you, he doesn’t even need to think to do it anymore. He’s there because he wants to make you feel loved, if you’re happy he’ll hold you and giggle away with you, if you’re sad then he’ll squeeze you extra tight to try and make you smile again, or if you’re just fancying a cuddle, Lance will be there to fulfil your need. “Is this alright?” He will constantly ask you, desperate to make sure that he is doing the right thing and leaving you with a heart that made you feel adored.

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[landosjpg]

so high school | ln

the one where you feel like a teenager in love.

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: fluff, smut (MDNI, +18), public masturbation, fingering, orgasm denial

note: i’ve been listening to this song on repeat for almost a week now, it’s so catchy and the GTA lyrics made me laugh so i had to write something inspired by it. it’s short but i hope you enjoy :) not proofread

being in love had never been as easy as it was with lando.

you had been in love before, sure, but your heart beat in a different rhythm whenever he was around.

you both had felt the spark between you the very first time you met. you could swear the sound of his laugh would always be your favorite song and something as simple as the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled made the butterflies in your stomach flutter all around every damn time.

“come on, tell me again!” your voice was high-pitched, it always was when you were with your boyfriend.

you heard lando let out a chuckle at your insistence, his body spread on the couch as you rested your head on his lap. his hand found yours, fingers entwining under the blanket that covered your body and you gave him a little squeeze, encouraging to tell you once more what you were asking.

“alright, alright,” he facetiously rolled his eyes, earning a giggle from your lips. “i thought you were the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen.”

you had heard his first impression on you about a thousand times before, but it always brought a smile to your face, being reminded of how enamored he was with you since the very first night.

“fuck, i could barely sleep that night because you wouldn’t leave my mind,” and you had felt the exact same thing.

you two had just clicked instantly, your friends surprised at the chemistry of the both of you.

despite of how crowded the club was that evening you met, it had felt like no one was around you. endless conversation and laughs that seemed to never cease lured you away from the presence of everyone else, and when his lips finally met yours hours later you felt your heart exploding. your bodies moulded together as if you were made to each other, smiles and soft giggles breaking the kiss every few seconds.

and wrapped in his arms you felt like you were sixteen again; and admittedly, no one had ever loved you quite like him before.

୨୧

for the almost eight months that you had been together, you and lando had always loved to invite your mutual friends over during the weekend. at the end of the day, they were the reason you two had met in the first place, and there weren’t enough words in the english language to just show how grateful you were.

every few saturdays all of you would reunite in your —his —living room, a few bottles of alcohol and snacks set on the tea table as you played some stupid drinking game. after that, you would just play the first movie that one of you could think of, lights off as everyone settled either on the couch or, most likely, on the floor, a little too tipsy to even bother getting comfortable.

that night it was american pie playing on the big screen as you cuddled into your boyfriend’s embrace under the soft blanket; it was chilly, the cool summer freeze making you need to cover the bare skin of your legs.

you softly sighed as your leaned your back to his chest as his arms circled around you; and then one of his hands was creeping under the blanket, fingers gently brushing the skin of your thighs.

you smiled at the comfort of his warmth, eyes fixed on the screen mindlessly.

but lando had had a little too much to drink that night, so his fingers slowly moved up, up, up, until they found the seam of your shorts. and the innocence of his previous touch was immediately thrown away the second you looked up to his face, eyes furrowed in confusion, just to meet his smirk.

“what are you doing?” you whisper-shouted, your thighs closing together as he tried to get closer to where he knew you wanted him.

and he shushed. that sly grin of his not leaving his lips.

you bit your lower lip and complied, legs slowly giving him access to your core as your eyes went back to the movie. with slow, teasing movements, he managed to push your shorts and your panties to the side, fingers finding the nub of your clit with ease. this was the most patient you had ever seen him, the tip of his digits slowly rubbing circles on you as he pretended to watch that stupid movie, not even looking at you.

your breath got heavier and unsteady as he touched you at a tauntingly pace, inaudible to everyone else thanks to the loud volume of the tv.

but when he slid his fingers down your folds, coating them in your slick before slowly pushing two of them into your hole, you couldn’t help a gasp from escaping your lips.

you felt your face heating up when the sound earned a look from some of your friends, and you tried your best to cover it with a chuckle. that scene better had been funny, you thought.

lando, however, seemed to find your situation hilarious. you looked up at his smile as he kept fucking his fingers into you slowly, and you could tell he was trying his best not to laugh.

as the seconds passed, stifling your sighs was getting harder and harder, your walls already clenching around your boyfriend’s digits. your fingers wrapped around his wrist, warning him that you were close, and that’s when he stopped.

the withdrawal of his fingers almost made you whine, and you shot a glance at him, this time, a disappointed one. he seemed to like how you responded, because his smile widened and he lowered his head to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“later, baby. i want to hear those pretty sounds you make when you come,” he whispered into your ear before leaning back on the couch again, shamelessly cleaning his fingers on your thigh and leaving you craving his touch even more.

[yuckiemouth]

Ugh I miss u sex with Riki bro like him coming home from tour I’m frustrated

“I Missed You So Much”

“did you think of me every-time you masturbated in your dorm?”

After their ‘WALK THE LINE’ tour, ENHYPEN finally got the chance to fly overseas to reunite with their friends and family. Although the experience was exhausting yet enjoyable for all seven members, they could finally relax—at least until they navigate through the throngs of enthusiastic fans and paparazzi. The pushing, shoving, screams, and tears were finally behind them as they settled into their first-class seats—something they could now afford, escaping the usual chaos of being followed even in the air. Riki sat at the very back by the window, headphones over his ears, resting his head on a neck pillow as he settled in for some much-needed rest. A soft ding interrupted his music. Riki glanced down, picking up his phone from his lap. A message from Y/N, his secret girlfriend back in Japan, lit up the screen. It read: “I can’t wait to see u ❤️.”

A warm smile spread across Riki's face as he read Y/N's sweet text. He quickly typed out a reply, "Me too, baby. Can't wait to hold you again." His thumbs hovered over the send button, but then he hesitated. Better not risk getting caught by the others, especially Jake who always seemed to snoop around his phone. Riki deleted the message and replaced it with a more innocent one: "Miss you already! See you soon!" Satisfied, he hit send before putting his phone away and sinking deeper into his seat, letting the gentle hum of the plane lull him towards sleep once more.

His phone dinged again and Riki’s 100% sure Jake would’ve twisted his head and asked “who’s texting you so much?”, but luckily he was slumped next to the seats beside him with his mouth agape. Riki chuckled before snapping a pic, preparing to use it for blackmail. He quickly checked Y/N’s message and it read: view picture. He dubiously viewed the picture and he inaudibly gasped. Y/N’s shirt was lifted with her perky titties in frame with the letters blocking her nipples like a tease. “I really need you.” Riki felt a stirring in his loins as he gazed at the provocative photo, his eyes lingering on Y/N's tantalizing cleavage. He bit his lip, trying to stifle a moan. Damn, she knew just how to make him ache for her. He couldn't wait to get his hands on those perfect tits again, to taste her skin and hear her breathy pleas for more.

With a smirk, Riki typed out a response, keeping his words light and playful to avoid arousing suspicion. "Mmm, I really do need you too, baby. But we have a few hours till we land. Why don't you play with yourself while thinking about me?" He attached another sultry selfie of himself lounging comfortably, his bulge barely concealed beneath his pants. "Get me hard for our reunion." Riki let out a low chuckle, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair in anticipation. His mind wandered to their last encounter, the way she'd writhed beneath him, crying out his name as he pounded into her tight little pussy. The memory alone was enough to make his cock twitch inside his pants. With a sigh, he decided to drift off with that thought.

.

.

.

As Riki approached Y/N's apartment building, a sense of relief washed over him. Being surrounded by his loving family had been wonderful, but there was no denying that he craved the intimacy and passion he shared with Y/N. He quickened his pace, his heart racing with anticipation as he climbed the stairs to her door. Taking a deep breath, Riki knocked softly, hoping she wouldn't keep him waiting. When the door swung open, he was greeted by Y/N's radiant smile, her eyes sparkling with adoration. Without a word, Riki pulled her into his arms, claiming her lips in a searing kiss filled with pent-up desire. He needed her, wanted her, and nothing else mattered in that moment. Riki shoved her back into the apartment with the wet kiss, pushing the door back close with a soft kick.

Riki's hands roamed over Y/N's curves as he backed her against the wall, breaking the kiss only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jawline and down the column of her throat. He nipped and sucked at her sensitive skin, leaving a path of love bites in his wake. "Missed you so fucking much," Riki growled against her ear, his voice husky with lust. He ground his hips against hers, the hardness of his arousal pressing insistently against her belly. "Need to be inside you, Y/N. Now." Without waiting for a response, Riki scooped her up into his strong arms, carrying her towards the bedroom as he devoured her mouth once more. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them lost in their desperate hunger for each other. Riki laid Y/N gently on the bed, his hands roaming her body as he kissed a fiery trail down her chest. He paused to worship her breasts, sucking and nibbling at her pert nipples until they pebbled under his attention. Y/N arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she gasped and whimpered with pleasure.

"Please, Riki," she panted, her hips bucking upwards in search of friction. "I'm so wet for you. Fill me up, baby." He grinned against her skin, his cock throbbing with need. He slid down her body, kissing and licking a path to her dripping core. "Oh, I plan to," he murmured, burying his face between her thighs and inhaling deeply. "Fuck, you smell incredible." He left one last kiss on her inner thigh before adjusting himself between her thighs.

His rigid erection brushing against her slick folds. He looked up at her, his dark eyes smoldering with raw desire. "Fuck, I’ve missed you, Y/N," he urged, his voice thick with lust. "Hmm, this wet pussy," Y/N's breath hitched, her gaze locked onto Riki's as she reached down to guide him to her entrance. "I want you to fuck me hard," she whispered, her voice trembling with need. "Make me scream your name until my throat is raw." Riki groaned, his control slipping at her bold demand. With a swift thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, stretching her walls deliciously around his thickness. "Oh, fuck yes," his eyes rolled as he began thrusting into her tightness. Her mouth falls agape with desperate pleas escaping her short breath. “Uh huh, yeah, fuck me harder,” she nodded, encouraging him to go faster.

Riki gripped Y/N's hips tightly, pounding into her with reckless abandon as he chased his impending release. Her inner walls clenched around him, milking his cock with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin and their ragged breathing filled the room, creating a primal symphony of lust. "You're so damn tight," Riki grunted, sweat beading on his forehead as he drove deeper. "Take all of me, baby. Every inch." Y/N's cries grew louder, her nails digging into his arms as she teetered on the edge. "Riki! Oh god, Riki!" she wailed, her body tensing beneath him. With one final, brutal stroke, Riki felt Y/N convulse around him, her orgasm crashing over her in waves.

Riki's climax hit him like a freight train, his vision blurring as he spilled himself deep within Y/N's spasming heat. He collapsed on top of her, his heavy breaths mingling with hers as they both rode out the aftershocks. He rolled off her, pulling her close as they lay entwined in the aftermath of their passionate encounter. Riki pressed a soft kiss to her temple, feeling content and sated in a way that only Y/N could provide.

[annwrites]

⸻ labour. part two. ⸻

· pairing: aemond targaryen x niecewife!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you reunite with your mother's side of the family when they return to the red keep to defend luke's claim to driftmark, but in all your years apart, she comes to find—with heartbreak—that you've seemingly replaced her. · word count: 3,626 · ꒰a/n꒱: gif

You slide your palms down soft chiffon that is a mixture of shades of blue and green. The former to match your husband's sapphire, the latter to match your house. Aemond had selected the gown for you personally, to wear today.

You cradle your swollen belly, watching as Aemond pulls on his leather boots before standing, making his way over to you with a slight smirk, taking your chin gently between his fingertips as you stare up at him with flushed cheeks.

He kneels then, pressing his palms to your pregnant stomach, and then his lips, while you slip your fingers into silken, silver strands.

"And how is our boy today?"

You shake your head with a grin. "Aemond, we cannot know—"

He stands then, cupping your cheek. "Uncle, my beloved. And I do. You've never failed in pleasing me before. Nor will you in this, I am sure of it. There is plenty of time for daughters later."

You blink up at him, nervously shifting under his watchful gaze as you swallow thickly. "I...would not mind either. I only care that it is healthy."

Not to mention there being plenty of time for sons later, as well. It is not as if you're in some race to provide him with male heirs...

You do not say this, however.

He hums. "And he will be. Because he is of our union. Fruit of mine own niece's womb."

He offers you his arm then. "Come, so we might soon be done with this ridiculous bit of pageantry where all pretend, once again, not to see what is before their very eyes."

You silently take his arm, wrapping your own around it.

"I've lost one of mine own, and yet I do not ignore it."

"You married me," you state quietly.

He heads for the door, opening it for you. "An entirely different matter, my love. Driftmark should pass to its legitimate heir. At the very least, one who truly desires it."

He glances to you as the pair of you make your way down the hall. "Do you not think?"

You stare straight ahead. "Yes, uncle."

He hums in approval at your agreeable response.

You stand silently beside Aemond, your eyes occasionally flitting to your estranged relatives across the room—your twin, your younger brothers, and your...mother. You watch them as they watch Ser Vaemond, Daemon with a disapproving look.

It has been six years since the Lady Laena was lain to rest at Driftmark. Six years since you had last set eyes upon any of them. And they are all much changed. The boys grown, and your mother pregnant, yet again, with one of that monster's offspring.

You are glad for many-a-reason that Viserys bid you remain at the Red Keep when your mother took up the family's ancestral seat of Dragonstone. One of which was keeping you and that disrespectful, loathsome excuse for a 'man' far from one another.

When you look at all of them...you feel them strangers to you now.

But Aemond has given you a new family. One which you will continue to help grow.

You want a great many children, because you have always desired a large family, but Aemond has also told you—since before you even flowered—that it would one day be your duty as wife to him to provide him with as much.

You'd not been much sure what to say to that, so you'd not quarreled—he despises when you argue with him; says that he prefers you docile and amiable—as you wished for it, anyway. You do hate stoking his ire. He can be...frightful when provoked.

But when he is otherwise...he is wonderful.

You press yourself against Aemond's side, hoping matters are soon settled. Your feet hurt, and you'd like a hot bath to soothe your aching lower back.

And then, no more has your mother opened her mouth to speak, that the doors to the throne room open, and through them your grandsire comes.

You stare with wide eyes, along with all the rest, as King Viserys takes labored breaths and strained steps toward the Iron Throne, struggling every step of the way.

You shake your head lightly, glancing across the room to the Princess Rhaenyra, who has a grateful—if not also hopeful—look about her as she watches her father.

"She would push him into an early grave if it got her what should instead belong to another," Aemond whispers into your ear. "For it is not the first time."

The sight of a charred body lying inside Driftmark's hearth flits through your mind. You swallow down a lump in your throat as you nod in agreement.

Your husband then presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Once Viserys is seated—Daemon having surprisingly come to his aid in climbing the steps to the throne—he expresses confusion to the gathering, which causes Aemond to snort quietly.

And just when it seems proceedings might finally be at an end, Vaemond speaks, refuting Lucerys as heir once more.

And then he goes a step further.

"Her children," he begins, growing quiet for only a moment, while Daemon whispers something which you cannot make out. "Are bastards!"

He shouts it so loudly that the words echo, both in this room, as well as inside of you.

The truth that all can see, finally spoken aloud.

You clutch nervously at your stomach, tears brimming in your eyes.

You hope it does not look like you, then, but not for the first time. You pray that it favors Aemond.

You've not yet discussed what is to be done if it has your hair, your eyes.

You are afraid to hear his answer.

"And she is a whore," he states, staring your mother down, while you swallow down bile.

You look up to Aemond, wondering if he feels it as well: humiliation.

He wed you, after all, even with knowing what you are. Where it is that you truly come from. You wonder if he ever thinks that he made a mistake.

You chin wobbles, so you lightly tug against his sleeve.

His eye meets yours then, and he removes his arm from your grasp and just as you feel ready to break—terrified that this is it, he's finally slipped away from you; all that you have left in all the world—he wraps that same arm around your shoulders, holding you tightly to him.

"All you need be is mine," he tells you quietly, his lips close to your ear. "I could give a fuck about all the rest."

Your eyes flutter closed for only a moment, a hot tear slipping down your cheek as you fill with relief.

"I will have your tongue for that," Viserys states.

When you open your eyes again, he is now standing, a dagger in his grip.

And then Daemon slices Vaemond's head in two in one swift, unexpected motion.

You bury your face in Aemond's chest, refusing to look.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon states, staring down at Vaemond's now-lifeless body.

"Disarm him!" Otto shouts, causing you to jolt.

"No need," Daemon says, and you hear the unmistakable sound of a sword sliding into a scabbard.

"Call the maesters!" Alicent shouts, and when you look to her, she runs toward the throne—to Viserys—holding him in her arms, begging him to take something for the pain.

Aemond pulls you in the opposite direction, then, leading you away from the gruesome sight that is Vaemond's corpse.

You wonder how many more Velaryons must die before your mother and Daemon are satiated.

You bristle against Aemond's side as your mother nears you with a smile.

He holds you securely to him, glaring at her, ready to make a scene if need-be if she dare touch what now belongs solely to him.

Her time with you has long past.

You have a new mother now.

Ever a nervous habit, you clutch at your pregnant stomach protectively, your heart beating wildly from fright.

Rhaenyra nods to Aemond with pursed lips. "Brother."

She looks at you then with a softened gaze. "I'd like for us to have a word, my love."

She tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. "It is has been too long."

You look to Aemond for permission, while he merely stares at your mother with an unreadable expression.

You clear your throat. "Uncle?"

Finally, he tears his gaze away from her, looking at you instead.

After a moment of silence, he leans down, cupping your cheek, kissing you passionately before reluctantly stepping away. "I shall be waiting for you, beloved niece."

He nods to Alicent. "With mother."

You give him a smile, and a nod, turning back to your own.

She quickly takes one of your hands between each of hers, stepping closer. "I had...hoped you would come and see me once I arrived."

"Yes, well," you pause. "Aemond does not...like for me to over-exert myself, especially now. He... My uncle says that he wishes for our babe to have a serene gestation. Causing undo stress would be...ill-advised."

Her brows furrow. 'Undo stress'? And the way you speak of him...

"How could spending time with your mother ever cause undo stress, my sweet girl?" She asks, raising a hand to cup your cheek, until you flinch away from it, taking a step back, your palm slipping from her grasp.

"You serve..." You glance around, then look back to her, whispering your response. "You and Daemon serve only as painful reminders of all that I've lost. Both...both of my fathers."

You take a step closer once more.

"How could you do it?" You question, tears brimming in your eyes. "Kill him, then force us to stand by and watch as you wed Daemon, instead, the very next day? How? How?"

She swallows thickly.

"You killed them both. Harwin maybe...indirectly. But he had to leave because of..."

You shake your head.

You miss him so dearly. Both of them.

Harwin, who'd brought you dolls, and would toss you in the air just to make you giggle excitedly, and hold you in his arms as he read to you.

Laenor, who had taught you to swim, who'd brought you cake to see you smile, who had once made a necklace of seashells with you, simply because you'd asked him to, even if you'd known he'd had far more important matters to attend to. But he always made time for you.

They both did.

And now she and Daemon are what remain. They are what you are left with.

You glance behind you to Alicent, who gives you a gentle smile and extends a hand in your direction, Aemond waiting for you behind the seat he's selected for you.

You turn back to Rhaenyra.

"I have a new family now," you state quietly, with an unexplainable feeling of guilt and shame settling into the pit of your stomach. "I need naught else."

With that, you step away.

Rhaenyra's chin wobbles, tears stinging her eyes as she watches you take Alicent's hand.

Her daughter...her baby girl—her only girl—thinks her a monster now. You've been in their clutches since you were but a handful of years old. What else did she think so much time away from her side would bring, but this: you seeing her as the enemy. You are...Gods, you are afraid of her.

She can hardly bear such a thought. Now, she supposes, she understands why you stopped writing her. Why you had seemed to slowly slip away from her as the years continued on.

This, too, is her fault. She had suggested it: a betrothal. She'd thought it the right thing at the time. For you and Aemond both.

He'd been such a sweet boy. Pleasant. Had spent many hours in her royal apartments playing with you. Had once...had once fallen asleep against her side as she read the pair of you to sleep.

He'd once gifted her a small ruby ring for her nameday—had said that red was 'her color'.

Where had things gone wrong?

Driftmark.

The distance had widened by miles that night as you sat, clutching at Aemond while you sobbed for his stolen eye, staring at her across the room in terror while Alicent held one of her son's hands in her own, the other resting atop one of your shoulders.

What if she told you the truth, then? About Laenor? Would it fix anything?

She fears that what is broken here...cannot be repaired.

She mourns for the loss of her baby, her child, her daughter.

She'd simply not wanted to spend her life miserable and alone. Nor did she want for Laenor to. So she'd set the both of them free, but when those ties were cut, so, too, was another, she has come to discover... With unimaginable heartbreak.

Rhaenyra continues her toast, looking to you. "And to my daughter, Y/N—though you are a woman now, you will always be my little girl."

She pauses. "I wish for you to know you will always have a part of my heart, and that it remains with you always, despite our distance. And that... I know you will make a wonderful mother once your own little one is here. Should you ever need me, you need only write—or send for me—and I will be here to help you along. You are not alone."

Finally, she seats herself, nervously sipping at her wine.

And as it soon turns out, she had once again miscalculated.

She had hoped—desperately prayed—her loving, heartfelt words would move you. Instead...you had taken them to be insulting. All the agony she has caused you, and she thinks a simple toast is all that's needed to mend the frayed bonds between you?

You stand, Aemond's hand slipping away from your pregnant stomach, as you raise the glass of wine he'd poured you. Not that he'd provided you with much of the drink to begin with.

Your uncle had once told you that lushes belong in the streets of Flea Bottom, not at court. And so, you've never been drunk a day in your life.

"Thank you, mother," you reply flatly.

You then look at Alicent with a smile. "I raise my cup to you, My Queen, for taking me under your wing, and raising me up as one of your own during all my years here. For teaching me what it is to be a proper lady; for ensuring I never went without a mother's love when mine own was so far. I am grateful to you every day."

She smiles broadly and you take a sip of your drink, taking Aemond's hand as you sit, settling it back on your belly, choosing to focus on his touch...instead of the shattered look on your mother's face.

When Jace and Helaena take to the dance floor, you turn to Aemond. "I'm quite tired."

He looks at you.

"I think I'd like to retire for the evening. Will...will you come with me, uncle?"

He presses a kiss to your cheek. "After awhile, beloved niece."

He nods toward a household guard, who makes his way over to the pair of you.

"Ser Wyll, please escort my wife back to our chambers. And ensure none are granted entrance to her, save for me, my mother, or her handmaid."

You give Aemond a brief kiss, rising from your seat, silently heading out of the room, wishing for a hot bath and a long rest.

When Aemond returns to you, it’s after you’ve had a long soak to relax your lower back and you’ve shoved your feet into an ice bath to at least attempt at reducing their swelling.

He finds you laid up in bed, sewing quietly—working diligently at your embroidery, which makes him content to see.

He much enjoys you like this: quiet, finding employment in domestic pursuits, and your young womb heavy with his seed as you lie in your marriage bed with a pleasant disposition.

You lift your head, pausing from your current task and you smile softly at your husband. “How was the remainder of dinner?”

He steps over to the settee positioned before your chamber’s hearth, removing his leather belt from around his waist and unsheathing his sword before retrieving a basin of water and a whetstone from his work bench.

“Uneventful,” he replies simply, smirking to himself at the memory of your twin on his pretentious arse while Aegon had held Lucerys down, keeping him in his place.

“Your family flies for home,” he states, seating himself, sharpening the blade he rests in his lap.

He keeps to himself the possibility of your mother returning soon.

If he is fortunate, she will change her mind.

He deeply mislikes the prospect of her coming back and planting ideas in your head—unwanted thoughts—which will serve only to come between you.

She will not part you. In any form. He will not allow it.

You belong to him and him alone. It has taken him much time and effort to cement your bond as something absolute. None shall test its strength, or they will meet their end at the tip of his sword.

Eventually, you rise, coming to sit beside Aemond, watching as he tends to his sword with interest.

“May…may I try?”

He looks at you for a moment, considering, and you give him a hopeful smile.

He then turns his head slightly to the right, nodding toward where the bed lies. “You should continue with your embroidery. It is more suited to your feminine talents, my beloved.”

Your smile slowly fades and Aemond returns to sharpening the edges of his Valyrian Steel blade.

You rise then, padding across the room, picking up the small wooden hoop which holds yet another meaningless project within.

You tired of colorful threads some time ago, but Aemond keeps purchasing them for you. And so you keep doing as you’re bid. Because you know of naught else to do with yourself.

You climb back into bed, lying on your side, cradling your belly.

Mayhaps you will feel different—better—once your child is born.

You pray it is a boy. Because it is what Aemond wants.

His wants must always be yours, too. For he decided that long ago, as well.

You fail to recall the last time you were allowed to entertain a desire that was singularly your own.

You choose to sleep, then, instead of thinking.

Nothing good ever comes from unwanted ideas…

When you wake in the middle of the night, it is to Aemond pressed firmly to your backside, his palm settled firmly over your pregnant stomach.

It is where his touch rests upon you much of the time now since becoming with child.

At first, it'd been incredibly endearing, until he'd told you 'it pleases me greatly to touch that which belongs to me, beloved niece: both of you'. Such a statement had made you feel...uneasy for unexplainable reasons.

You slowly remove his hand, sliding out of bed, and padding quietly across the room.

You know you shouldn't.

If he were to catch you...an argument would quickly ensue, especially given the hour—if you could even call it that: you would receive a stern tongue-lashing, whereas he would merely be the one issuing it before ushering you back into bed, bidding you not to disobey him again, or there would be consequences.

You retrieve his blade from his bedside, watching as your uncle takes even, steady breaths—your heart pounding in your ears as you turn, heading onto the balcony.

You carefully set the sword down before returning to your chambers for his whetstone and a bowl of water. Once you've both, you go back outside, shutting the doors softly behind you.

You sit, settling his blade in your lap, and you dip the stone before mimicking his earlier actions, dragging it along the side of the sword from hilt to tip.

You repeat the motion a few times, smiling to yourself while you do so. You deem it the least bit more enjoyable than embroidery. The joy mostly lies in doing that which you're not meant to. At least at your husband's command, that is.

Once you've had your fill of forbidden fun, you return everything to its rightful place within your chambers, climbing back into bed, and holding your pregnant belly, hoping, for once, for the very same in regards to the sex of your child as your husband: for it to be a son.

The thought of him treating a daughter as he does you...it upsets you, to say the least.

As children, he'd been so different. Kinder, sweeter, gentler. When he became a man—rather, once your betrothal had been announced—something changed within him. He became more domineering then. More...protective. Even if that doesn't seem quite the right term.

He'd stressed to you how the two of you were to be one in the same in all things, because you were to one day be man and wife. How you needed to rely on him, because it would be his responsibility as your future husband to look after you. And how you must obey him—it was important to him that he lead you properly in your betrothal, and still now, subsequent marriage.

How you must play your correct roles: to let him be the man, and you his wife. Meaning you should find interest in those things he finds most correct for you to. Like wearing pretty dresses and jewelry, and sewing, and singing, and drawing, and arranging flowers, while he studies philosophy and politics, and trains with a sword, and rides the world's largest dragon.

As you study the softness of his face while in sleep, you wonder where that sweet boy has gone.

You close your eyes, wishing to find him once again.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Reunited 3

Part 3

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x reader with a side story of modern!Sigtryggr x reader

Authors note: it's been over a year since I wrote modern!Sihtric so please be gentle with me. I actually never wanted abandon this story, but somehow, I just couldn’t find the motivation to continue. Writing modern!Sihtric isn’t as close to my heart; I always worry that putting him in a new setting might make him lose his true character. But after all the messages and asks about it, I decided it’s time to finish this story. And honestly, I’ve missed them—my reckless photographer Sihtric and the strong yet love-starved designer reader. They deserve their story told to the end. And guess what? This isn’t the end… not just yet.

Warnings: heartbreak, use of alcohol

Summary: It was supposed to be a short two week trip that turned into five long years apart, just because your best friend couldn't keep her mouth shut. Will the reader and Sihtric manage to repair their broken relationship and find their way back to each other?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Word Count: 3,4 K

Sihtric jumped out of bed the moment the first pale morning light slipped through the curtains—not that he’d gotten much sleep anyway. He’d spent most of the night tossing and turning as pieces of your brief exchange from the day before replayed in a relentless loop. Every attempt to find sleep was met with fleeting, fragmented memories—torn images of the time you had shared together flashing behind his closed eyes..

With a tired sigh, he rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in his bones. He got dressed quickly, pulling on his old jeans and a black shirt, mind already spinning on how to approach you today. What would you even think? Would you let him get a word in, or would you just...shut him out?

He wandered down the hallway and stopped, catching sight of himself in the mirror. Dark circles under his eyes, hair a complete disaster—he looked like he’d just survived a brawl with his own bed. He huffed at his reflection, running a hand through his hair as if that might help.

"What are you even doing, Sihtric?" he muttered under his breath. "Trying to put together a life that looks whole, but you know it's a mess. She just had to show up and—" He stopped himself, eyes narrowing. "Yeah, like that’s her fault."

He took a deep breath, looking himself straight in the eyes. "You’re just running," he admitted softly. "All this time, just running from what’s right in front of you." But seeing you again had shattered his illusion—the little world he’d built up piece by piece to distract himself from the truth. Now, there was no denying it: nothing he’d done, no walls he’d put up, could fill the void you’d left behind.

Grabbing his camera bag, Sihtric slung it over his shoulder and headed out the door. The crisp morning air hit him the second he stepped outside, but it did nothing to cool his mind, still swirling with frustration and a pang of something he didn’t want to name. Longing, maybe.

By the time he got to the set, the usual hustle was already in full swing. Assistants darted around setting up lights, models shuffled in with their stylists, and the low hum of chatter filled the space. Sihtric made his way to his station, eyes scanning the room without even meaning to—searching for you. And when he finally spotted you across the room, his heart stumbled.

You looked so focused, completely locked in, like the rest of the world didn’t even exist. He remembered that look so well—your intensity, your ability to tune out everything and just create. It was one of the things he’d always admired about you, what had pulled him in from the start. But now? Now it just reminded him how far he felt from the person you’d once cared about.

Taking a shaky breath, Sihtric made up his mind to walk over. His heart hammered as he crossed the room, not sure what he’d even say—but knowing he couldn’t just keep quiet.

—---------------------------------

The soft hum of equipment, the chatter of the crew, and the droning voice of the girl responsible for the outfits—the so-called "wardrobe manager" these days—all blended into an indistinct background noise as you tried to focus on the day ahead. Every sound seemed distant, almost muffled, as if you were underwater, your mind too preoccupied with the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

“I would suggest pairing this silk blouse with the high-waisted trousers for the first look,” the wardrobe manager continued, her voice lacking enthusiasm, as if she had said it a hundred times before. “It has a timeless feel. Or we could go for something more daring—maybe this leather jacket and skirt combo for the edgier shots?”

You barely registered her words, absentmindedly flipping through the wardrobe selections as though you were deeply engaged, but in truth, you were just stalling. Anything to keep your hands busy, to avoid the inevitable confrontation that seemed to hang in the air like a storm cloud. You nodded vaguely, hoping your disinterest wasn’t too obvious.

You had barely slept. The events from the day before played in a loop in your mind, each thought swirling with fragments of Sihtric's face, his voice, and the burning resentment you felt towards him. The way he had casually greeted you after all these years, like nothing had happened—like he hadn’t broken you into pieces. It was infuriating.

As you examined a sequined gown, you heard footsteps approaching. There was no need to look up to know who it was. Sihtric's presence had a weight, a pull that you used to find comforting, but now it felt suffocating. Your posture stiffened, and your expression instantly hardened.

“Hey,” Sihtric’s voice was soft, tentative, as though testing the waters. “Can we talk?” he asked quietly, careful not to attract too much attention from the others.

You gave the wardrobe manager a soft, halfhearted smile, hoping she'd catch the hint, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. She was too busy batting her lashes, her gaze locked on Sihtric with flushed cheeks and a little lip-bite, practically radiating a crush.

You couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth as you watched her, caught in that painfully familiar moment as a humiliating flashback hit you—he’d had the same effect on you the first time you met…and, well, he still did. It was maddening, really. You sighed inwardly, silently cursing yourself for being just as foolish.

Clearing your throat a bit too deliberately, you broke the silence, snapping her back to reality.

The girl’s blush deepened, spreading across her face like wildfire. "Oh, um—sorry," she mumbled, eyes dropping to the floor as she scrambled to grab her things. She gave a quick, flustered nod and practically bolted, nearly tripping over her own feet in her rush to escape.

You didn’t even bother to turn around. “I’m busy,” you said flatly, flipping to the next outfit on the rack.

“I know,” he replied, tension lacing his voice, “but we need to talk. Yesterday—”

“Yesterday was nothing,” you cut him off, finally turning to face him with a cold, distant stare. You saw the hurt flicker across his face. “You don’t get to pretend we’re still friends or that there’s anything left between us.”

Sihtric’s gaze dropped for a second, and he ran a hand through his tousled hair, clearly searching for the right words. “I didn’t expect to see you, okay? I was… surprised.”

You crossed your arms, trying to build a barrier, anything to shield yourself from the vulnerability that crept up when you saw him yesterday. “Surprised? That’s your excuse? After everything you did? You threw me away like I was nothing.”

His head snapped up, a flash of guilt flickering over his face. “I didn’t— It wasn’t like that,” he said quickly, taking a step closer, but you backed away on instinct. “You don’t know the whole story.”

Your laugh was sharp, humorless. “I know enough. I know you moved on. Fast.”

Your gazes finally met, and for a moment, Sihtric caught a glimpse of something in your eyes—pain, anger, maybe even something else—but whatever it was vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I never stopped thinking about you. I just didn’t know how to—”

“Stop.” You held up a hand, cutting him off. “I don’t care what you did or didn’t think about. You made your choice. Believe it or not, I’ve moved on too.”

Sihtric clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of your words like a punch in the chest. The distance between you felt insurmountable, like a chasm that had opened long ago and now couldn’t be bridged.

“I get that you’re angry,” he said quietly, one last attempt to break through the wall you’d put up. “I would be too. But please, I owe you an explanation for why I—”

“Enough!” Your voice came out sharper than you’d intended, drawing a few curious glances from nearby crew members. Taking a deep breath, you tried to pull yourself back to calm.

“Whatever you think you owe me, I don’t want it,” you replied, fighting to keep your tone steady and unaffected. “It’s been five years, Sihtric. There’s nothing left to say.”

Sihtric shifted uncomfortably, like he wanted to protest. His mouth opened, but no words came out. You watched him struggle for some excuse or explanation, but you didn’t care. Not anymore.

"Sihtric," you said, voice cold like a bucket of ice water, “we have work to do. We’re not friends; we’re not anything. So let’s just keep this professional and do what we’re here to do.”

His jaw tightened, frustration and regret clouding his expression. “I didn’t want it to end up like this,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You shook your head, reinforcing the walls around your heart with every second that passed. “It’s too late for that.” Not waiting for his response, you turned back to the wardrobe rack, hands busy sorting through hangers, making it clear the conversation was over.

Sihtric stood there, lingering longer than he probably should have, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other and running a hand through his hair, as if that might somehow bring the right words to mind. He stole one last glance at you, hoping you’d change your mind or give him a sign, any sign, that there was still a chance. But when nothing came, he let out a quiet sigh and started to make his way back to his station.

His steps were slow, reluctant, and every few paces he glanced back, his eyes searching for you among the bustling set. Even as he reached his spot by the cameras, he couldn’t stop himself from casting a look in your direction, hoping for even the smallest hint of softness in your expression. But there was nothing—nada, zip. Just your back, straight and unyielding, radiating a chill that could’ve kept an ice rink frozen solid.

The tension lingered in the air, but you forced yourself to push through it. Work came first, and you weren’t about to let Sihtric’s sudden reappearance unravel everything you’d built in the past five years. You had built a new life—one that didn’t include him. Letting him back in wasn’t an option.

But as you sifted through the outfits, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

—-----------------------------------

Sihtric sat at the bar, shadows casting across his face in the dim light. It was one of those fancy, expensive places that tried too hard to look casual—exposed brick walls, soft jazz in the background, and bartenders in tailored vests who looked like they’d just stepped out of an old movie.

He was a regular here now, the kind of guest who turned heads the moment he walked in. In the last five years, Sihtric had become something of a celebrity in the fashion world—a photographer whose bold, daring shoots pushed boundaries and set trends. 

He stared blankly at his half-empty glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid as if it held any answers. This was his routine now—numbing himself in fancy bars that felt as cold and empty as he did inside. The photoshoot earlier had been brutal; each moment you ignored him twisted the knife in his chest a little deeper.

Another drink. Another night.

The bartender shot him a questioning glance, and Sihtric nodded for another round before he even had to ask. As the glass refilled, his thoughts circled back to you—how easily you’d shut him out, the distance in your eyes. His mind fought to make sense of it, but his heart knew the truth. You were done with him. He’d clung to some small hope for a sign, even an argument, anything but the indifference you showed him.

But you didn’t care anymore, and that truth gnawed at him like an open wound.

A hand slid over his shoulder, fingers trailing down his arm. At first, he barely noticed, his attention locked on the empty space where his heart used to be. A woman leaned in, her perfume cutting through the haze, whispering something playful in his ear. He turned to look at her—tall, brunette, model-like features.

Sihtric forced a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Buy you a drink?” he asked, his voice rough from the whiskey and everything he was holding back.

She giggled, fingers tracing circles on his arm, but he barely felt it. This was all mechanical now. He knew where this was going—a few more drinks, some empty flirting, a messy, fleeting distraction that would only leave him feeling emptier by morning. The same hollow routine.

A few hours later, they ended up in his apartment, just like he’d predicted. She lay sprawled on his bed, dark hair spilling over the pillows, murmuring soft words he wasn’t really listening to.

He moved against her, but his mind was miles away, lost somewhere far from the woman beneath him. Each motion felt mechanical, his body on autopilot, no real connection—no spark, no passion. Every touch, every thrust felt like an echo of something he used to feel, now reduced to emptiness. Sihtric barely registered the soft sounds she made, her murmurs fading into the background as his thoughts drifted back to you.

Even here you were haunting him like a ghost he couldn’t shake. He tried to push the memories away, but they clung to him—the way you laughed, how your eyes softened when they met his, the way your body felt under his fingers when you were close. None of this was the same. Each fleeting distraction only reminded him of what he’d lost, of what he’d ruined.

As she wrapped her arms around Sihtric’s neck, pulling him closer, he closed his eyes, trying to focus, to lose himself in the moment. But all he saw was you and all he felt was the aching emptiness in his chest.

When it was over, he rolled off her, breathing heavily as he stared up at the ceiling. The silence between them stretched on, pressing down like a weight. She snuggled into his side, her head on his shoulder, but her warmth only made him feel colder inside.

“That was amazing,” she whispered, soft and content.

Sihtric didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The words just wouldn’t come, because nothing about this felt amazing. It felt like another mistake—a mistake he kept making, hoping it would fill the emptiness, even though he knew it never would.

He waited until she drifted off to sleep, her breath slow and even against his chest. Then, carefully, he untangled himself from her, slipping out of bed and pulling on his jeans. The room was dark, save for the sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across the floor.

As he stood there, staring down at the woman who had become just another face in a long line of temporary distractions, Sihtric felt a wave of disgust wash over him—not at her, but at himself. This wasn’t who he used to be. This wasn’t the man you had fallen in love with.

—----------------------------------

The art gallery buzzed with excitement as you walked in, Gisela right by your side. You’d been to openings like this before, but tonight felt different—there was an electric vibe in the air, like everyone knew they were about to see something incredible. Gisela had been hyping up this exhibition for weeks, raving about the young, talented painter she’d discovered: Sigtryggr.

“You’re going to love his work,” Gisela said with a grin, leading you through the crowd. “He’s brilliant. And I have a feeling you two will get along. There’s just something about him…” She gave you a teasing look, but you brushed it off, not really sure what she meant.

As you made your way through the gallery, you couldn’t help but get drawn into the paintings. Bold, vibrant strokes blended with softer, more intimate details, each piece telling a story. Sigtryggr’s art was captivating—a perfect mix of emotion and precision that made it hard to look away. There was a rawness in his work that hit close to home, stirring up feelings you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time.

“Do you like it?” a voice broke through your thoughts.

You turned to find a man standing beside you, his features soft yet undeniably striking. His long, light hair framed his face almost ethereally, and his deep blue eyes held a warmth mixed with intensity. His gentle smile put you instantly at ease.

“Yeah, it’s... breathtaking,” you said, glancing back at the painting. “There’s so much emotion in it. It feels personal.”

Sigtryggr smiled, his eyes softening. “I’m glad you think so. It is personal, in a way. Each piece is a part of me—things I’ve seen, felt, or imagined. Sometimes, painting’s the only way I know to get those feelings out.”

His voice was soft but sincere, and something about him took you by surprise—a calmness and sweetness that felt rare. In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but feel faint echoes of someone else, someone who had once stirred your heart just as deeply.

The next hour slipped by as you talked with Sigtryggr, his presence unexpectedly comforting. He was charming without being over the top, and his quiet humor reminded you of simpler times. As you shared stories, you found yourself laughing more freely than you had in a long time. His quiet confidence and the way he really listened drew you in.

From across the room, you kept catching Gisela’s amused glances, her knowing smile hard to miss. You knew she’d set this up, but for once, you didn’t mind. As the evening wore on, Sigtryggr’s sweetness and his genuine interest in you started chipping away at the walls you’d built around your heart.

As the crowd began to thin, Sigtryggr turned to you with a soft smile. “I’d love to see you again if you’re interested. Maybe we could grab a coffee, or check out another gallery sometime?”

You hesitated, but the warmth in his eyes and the ease you felt around him made it impossible to refuse. “I’d like that.”

—---------------------------------------

A few weeks later, you found yourself spending more time with Sigtryggr, getting to know him better. Each time you met, you couldn’t help but notice how much he reminded you of Sihtric—the quiet intensity, the focus he poured into his work, the way he always held a little something back. But unlike Sihtric, there was no darkness in his eyes, no heaviness or regret. Sigtryggr was just... calm, confident, kind.

Your dates were simple and easy—strolls through art districts, cozy coffee shop stops, gallery visits, all filled with comfortable conversation. Sigtryggr had this natural way of making you feel at ease, giving you closeness without any pressure. He never pushed, never asked about your past, though you could tell he sensed something was holding you back.

Still, no matter how good things felt, you often caught yourself comparing him to Sihtric. The way Sigtryggr laughed, the thoughtful pauses he took—little things kept bringing Sihtric to mind, as if his shadow lingered over every new connection you tried to build.

One evening, after a particularly sweet date, Sigtryggr walked you home. Standing at your doorstep, you looked at him, emotions swirling. He held your gaze, eyes soft, as if he could see what you were feeling but didn’t need to hear it. Slowly, he reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering gently at your cheek. His gaze dipped to your lips, and he took a careful breath before leaning in.

When he kissed you, it was soft, unhurried, like he wanted to savor every moment. One hand rested at the curve of your jaw, the other slipped to the small of your back, drawing you a bit closer. He tasted faintly of coffee, his touch steady and grounding, and as his thumb brushed gently against your cheek, a warmth spread through you, melting away the lingering shadows of doubt.

The world around you faded as the kiss deepened, his lips exploring yours with a slow, tender intensity that felt both comforting and thrilling. You found yourself relaxing, melting into him, letting go of the weight you’d been carrying. For a moment, all that mattered was him, here, now.

When he finally pulled back, he searched your face with those gentle eyes of his, his thumb still tracing small circles on your cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and full of concern.

You took a shaky breath, feeling the old memories tugging at you again. “It’s not you,” you said, unsure how to explain the tangled mess inside you. “It’s… someone from my past.”

Sigtryggr’s expression remained calm, though you caught a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain,” he said gently, his voice soothing. “I know it’s hard to move on from someone who meant so much to you.”

You blinked, surprised by his perceptiveness. “How did you…?”

He gave a faint smile, a small shrug. “You wear it on your face sometimes, the way you get that distant look when something reminds you of him. But I’m not here to rush you. I just want to spend time with you, however you need.”

His words touched you deeply, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, it was possible to let go of the past and let someone else in.

As you said goodnight, something inside you shifted. Sigtryggr wasn’t Sihtric—he was his own person, with his own gentle sweetness, one that felt like it could help you heal. And for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to believe in a future worth exploring, not centered on what you’d lost but on what you might still find.

[veronicaphoenix]

zutto — chapter ten | wc: 3.7k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: the tour ends and Noah and Lia reunite with Noah's grandmother.

Reading time: 15mins aprox.

Author's note: this chapter is more fast-paced than previous ones. It's a bit of a filler because this was supposed to be included in chapter 9, but it felt too long so I split it. + I have an interesting question for you readers at the end of the chapter ‼️

Tags and trigger warnings: established relationship, angst, insomnia, talks of mental health, anxiety, medication, fluff, comfort, it's implied that noah marked lia in the previous chapter, shower sex, lia visits a cosplay shop and buys a certain costume, matt teasing lia on repeat about it, dirty fantasies (including giving oral while on her knees and being called a good girl), noah and lia reunite with hana, finally.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

Noah was deep in sleep. Or so it seemed. He had fallen asleep within seconds after washing up and putting on some boxers. 

The room was dark, but Lia could still make out his long figure lying on his stomach beside her. She was sat, her back against the headboard. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep yet.

Thoughts were drilling into her mind. They had started as soon as she settled into bed, tucked against Noah’s chest. The high they had shared together had been so intense that the moment calm settled into her bones and the room, —the moment Noah’s breathing slowed and she knew he was fast asleep—, that part of her brain, the one intent on sabotaging every good thing in her life, woke up.

She waited, battling the thoughts, the voices. Minutes passed. She untangled herself from Noah’s arms to shift positions. An hour dragged on. Still, she couldn’t find comfort, so she eventually sat up. More time passed. At some point, tears began to slip down her face as memories resurfaced: every time she’d pushed him away, how cold she’d been to him during the last tour, how she had screamed at him, pushed him, blamed him for making her fall in love with him.

As of late, when she felt this way, her solution was Noah—Noah’s arms around her, Noah’s soothing words whispered in her ear, Noah’s soft kisses. But now Noah was asleep, and she wasn’t about to wake him, not after the exhaustion he’d been carrying since yesterday. They hadn’t slept on the plane. Then he had soundcheck, a nearly two-hour show, and later, when they reached the hotel room past ten p.m., he’d still been a gentleman, seducing her and convincing her to make love. He deserved his rest now.

So what was left?

The pills in Noah’s bag.

She spotted the bag’s shape from where she sat. All she had to do was get up, take two steps to reach it, and find the bottle inside.

She was about to move when Noah’s hand wrapped around her bare thigh. His head lifted from the pillow, his eyes squinting in the darkness to see her.

“Lia? What are you doing?”

Lia cursed silently. She sniffed, wiping her eyes as she looked away.

Noah shifted, lifting himself onto his forearms.

“Are you crying?”

“Yes. I’m crying,” she admitted.

Noah watched her as best he could in the dark for a moment, then gently commanded, “Come here, lie down next to me.” 

He pulled her into his arms.

“Was it a nightmare?”

“No. Just... thinking,” she replied, her voice muffled.

He closed his eyes again, halfway between sleep and wakefulness. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Last tour. How badly I messed it up.”

Noah hummed softly, cradling her head against his chest without saying a word.

“That’s in the past, Lia. Focus on this tour, how well it’s going.”

His voice was a soothing lullaby in the dark, and she sobbed quietly once more, clinging to him.

“Please... hold me?” she whispered, scared. Scared of the voice winning, of eventually getting up and reaching for the pills.

Noah tightened his hold, entwining his leg with hers beneath the covers.

“I’m not letting go,” he reassured her, kissing the top of her head. “Try to sleep now. I’ve got you.”

Clutching his t-shirt in her fist, she tilted her head to press her cheek against his chest. She focused on the warmth of his body enveloping hers, cocooning her in safety, comforted by his familiar scent.

It was okay. He had forgiven her. She had forgiven herself... right?

She was allowed to feel sadness and anger over what had happened, but she couldn’t let that dark voice win. This was a battle she was fighting, and she was going to win it.

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of their hotel room, casting a warm, golden glow over the rumpled sheets. As Noah finished getting ready, Lia sat on the edge of the bed, idly scrolling through her phone. She wore black jeans and a white tank top, her grey cardigan loosely draped over her shoulders, one side slipping off to reveal a glimpse of bare skin— skin she’d carefully concealed with makeup to hide the evidence of Noah’s possessiveness. The day ahead promised adventure with the crew, but she seemed lost in thought.

Noah came over, adjusting his hoodie. They had a brief window before he had to leave for an interview with the rest of the band. His gaze became more intent as he took a closer look at her. 

“You look tired.” 

Lia tilted her head up to look at him. His fingers reached out and brushed her cheek, his thumb tracing just beneath her eye. 

She offered him a small, reassuring smile. 

“I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep great last night.” She chuckled softly, shrugging. “I’m still tired, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“Why don’t you stay in and rest?”

She shook her head. 

“I’d rather go shopping while you’re gone.”

Noah’s brows furrowed, his hand lingering on her chin. 

“You sure?”

“Positive,” she said. “I’ll be the one taking a power nap before the show today. Don’t worry about me.”

He studied her a moment longer, his gaze softening even more as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“Alright.” He let go of her face only to order her to lift her chin. When she did so, he leaned down to kiss her lips. “Text me if you find something cool, yeah?”

“Will do,” she replied as she watched him walk to the door and open it. “Good luck with the interview,” she called after him.

“Thanks!” he called back, disappearing into the hallway, leaving behind the familiar ache of missing him. 

But despite the quiet settling in the room, Lia found herself looking forward to the day.

After Noah left with the guys, she met up with Matt and a couple of the crew in the hotel lobby, ready to explore the city. Davis was already scrolling through his phone, trying to find the closest Starbucks. When he did, they stepped into the streets.

The air was cool, the chatter of locals and tourists blending into the urban soundscape as they stopped at a Starbucks just a few blocks away, the familiar green logo standing out against the colorful street signs. While the crew placed their orders—lattes, iced Americanos, and frappuccinos—Lia opted for a Sakura oat latte, something she always enjoyed when they were in Japan. 

Once caffeinated, they wandered through the streets, stopping in shops selling everything from manga to electronics. Soon they found themselves at the entrance of a brightly colored cosplay shop. Lia’s eyes lit up as they stepped inside, the racks filled with a wild array of costumes, wigs, and accessories.

The shop was a riot of colors and fabrics, a dream for anyone into anime or cosplay culture. Lia loved the creativity of it all, even if she wasn’t into cosplay herself. She had always been fascinated by fantasy worlds and magical creatures—her love of drawing them showing up in everything she created, from the band’s merch to the sketches she did in her free time.

Her eyes wandered over the different outfits, but one in particular caught her attention. It was a playful kitty costume, complete with pink cat ears, a choker with a bell, and a sleek, form-fitting bodysuit, tail included. Lia raised an eyebrow at the sight, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. What if she wore that and waited for Noah, kneeling on the hotel bed…?

“That’s cute,” Matt said, noticing where her attention had landed and startling her. She hadn’t noticed he was standing right next to her, Starbucks cup in hand. “You’d look pretty good in that.”

Instead of blushing, Lia rolled her eyes. Classic Matt—bold and unfiltered.

“I’d probably look ridiculous.”

Matt gave her a knowing smile. 

“Nah, Noah would love it. He’d probably lose his mind.”

That’s when she blushed. She looked away from him as a few more risqué scenarios flashed through her mind, ones she wasn’t about to voice in front of him. She could already picture Noah’s eyes lighting up when he saw her in her knees, chin tilted up towards him as she licked his lips and pulled down his jeans and boxers before getting her hands on his cock. She would take him in his mouth and pleasure him for hours on end only to have him cradle her head and tell her she was such a good girl. 

She had drifted off, for she didn’t notice Matt’s amused growing smirk until he pointed out, 

“You’re turning all red.”

Lia snapped back to reality and glared at him. 

“Just get it!” He urged, grinning.

It was ridiculous, but maybe ridiculous was exactly what they both needed after the intensity of the tour so far.

She bought it, unsure of when she’d ever have the chance to wear it. She’d need to feel confident first, and that definitely wasn’t going to happen at Grandma’s house—out of respect for her and for the sake of privacy.

She paid for the costume, stuffing the bag into her backpack as they left the shop. 

The day passed in a blur of sightseeing and laughter.

Lia pushed the hotel room door open nearly three hours later, her arms full of shopping bags, her cheeks still flushed from the cool autumn air outside. As the door clicked shut behind her, she dropped the bags onto the small armchair by the window, letting out a soft sigh of relief.

“Noah?” she called out.

“Shower!”

The sound of running water from the bathroom had just stopped. Moments later, Noah emerged, steam trailing him as he stepped into the room. His inked chest was still glistening with droplets of water, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, and his damp hair fell in messy, wet locks over his forehead. The sight was almost casual—too casual—yet there was something about him standing there, so unbothered by his own half-dressed state, that made Lia’s heart skip.

“Hey,” he greeted her, a warm smile playing on his lips as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “Did you have fun? Buy anything good?”

“Yeah, just some typical stuff,” she said casually after he pecked her lips. She pulled out a couple of the things she’d bought—a novel with a beautifully designed cover, a few art books showcasing the works of Japanese artists, and a collection of snacks in bright, colorful packaging.

Noah eyed the items with mild curiosity.

“Nice haul,” he said with a nod. His eyes flicked to the bag that had the word “cosplay” written on it for a split second, but he didn’t saying anything. “Those snacks look... adventurous.”

“They’re weird, right? I have no idea what half of this stuff is, but I figured we could try some of them later.”

“Deal.” 

Lia moved toward the armchair and discarded her cardigan. The air between them felt warm and comfortable, a bubble of shared energy after being apart for most of the morning. She looked over her shoulder at him.

“How was the interview?” 

He shrugged, still casual, but she noticed the way his fingers brushed over his arm absently. 

“It was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary, really.”

“Anything interesting come up?”

He hesitated, just a beat too long before answering. 

“Nah, same old questions about the project, some boring stuff about the process. You didn’t miss much.”

Noah stood by the window for a moment longer, watching Lia settle on the bed. The soft hum of the city outside filled the room.

As Lia plopped onto the bed, she wriggled her way toward the pillows, getting comfortable in the fluffy mess before yawning. She propped her phone on the duvet, checking notifications with sleepy eyes and texting Emery, feeling a tad guilty that her best friend wasn’t here with Jolly when she was with Noah.

Noah’s eyes lingered on her for a moment before he crossed the room with that easy, laid-back air of his. The towel around his waist was hanging by a thread, and as he passed the foot of the bed, it slipped off without a second thought.

He didn’t even flinch as he walked naked to his suitcase, pulling it open with a soft zip. The way his bare skin moved in the late-morning light felt strangely natural and there was a beauty to it. There was no awkwardness, no hesitance—being like this in the same room as her. It felt like the same ease they had shared when they were just best friends, when movie nights meant sprawling on the couch in sweatpants and devoring the take out order. Except now, there was this new layer—one where he could walk naked around her feeling shameless and unbothered.

Lia glanced up from her phone just as Noah leaned over to grab a pair of boxers from his bag. Her gaze flickered over his body—his butt. She bit her lip until a yawn overtook her again. She settled deeper into the pillows.

“Still sleepy?” Noah asked, pulling the boxers up before turning to find a t-shirt. His voice was soft, as if he knew she was somewhere between awake and dreaming.

Lia stretched her legs out, sighing. 

“The Sakura latte I had didn’t help much, to be honest.”

Noah chuckled, grabbing a shirt from the pile and pulling it over his head, the fabric clinging to his still-damp skin. 

“Why don’t you call reception and ask for another coffee to be brought up?”

She shook her head, her phone slipping from her fingers as she laid it beside her. 

“It’s okay. We’re meeting everyone downstairs for lunch in thirty minutes. I can manage.”

Noah walked over to the bed and tickled the bottom of her foot. Lia squealed, kicking her foot away and dissolving into giggles. The sound made him laugh too, that deep, familiar sound that had always made her feel at home.

“Okay,” he said, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he leaned down to kiss her, the warmth of his minty breath brushing her skin. Then, without another word, he disappeared back into the bathroom, the sound of the hairdryer kicking on as he set about styling his hair.

The rest of the tour was a whirlwind of excitement and joy. The crew was ecstatic—the tour another success. Each day had been an adventure—packed shows, vibrant crows, and the hights that lingered when they met after in hotel lounges or local bars. It was hard to tell who has higher on the euphoria of the experience. Even though they were exhausted—band memebers and crew, there was a collective felling of fulfillment and pride that wouldn’t go unnoticed. 

Last night in Kyoto, they clinked glasses and laughed. It was nearly midnight, but everyone was wide awake, sharing stories from the day and anecdotes that had everyone cracking up. Lia was squashed between Folio and Bryan, sipping a strawberry mocktail. 

At first, it felt a little strange to sit there surrounded by people drinking alcohol. The first time they’d decided to go out, Noah made sure she was comfortable with it, letting her know that if it ever got overwhelming, they could leave and head back to the hotel.

But that didn’t happen.

She was fine, even as the others indulged. She focused on the good company, the light-hearted conversations, and everyone’s joy. She didn’t need alcohol to feel it. Still, she couldn’t help but notice Noah also stayed away from the drinks. It wasn’t just for his health; she was almost certain he was doing it for her, silently supporting her in ways he wouldn’t openly admit. The thought made her smile—grateful, but a little suspicious.

The tour wound down with two final days in Tokyo. The chaos of touring followed them whenever they stepped out of the hotel, but inside, Lia and Noah managed to carve out moments just for the two of them. Most nights, they were too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed. But one morning, while savoring a shower together before meeting everyone downstairs for breakfast, they shared a sweet moment of lovemaking against the shower tiles. Their kisses were soft and unhurried, with Noah’s hands cradling Lia’s face as water droplets slid down their skin. A moment later, he was holding her up, her back pressed against the cold wall, the sudden chill sending a shiver down her spine—just as Noah eased into her, no words or questions needed.

It was slow despite knowing they were on a time crunch to meet the crew downstairs. They orgasmed together, but the focus had been on the shared intimacy—the feeling of each other and the water cascading over their bodies. With Noah panting against her chest, occasionally brushing his lips against her breasts, Lia gently pushed the damp hair from his face and studied him. Water droplets clung to his eyelashes, his lips parted, brown eyes staring at her with a raw intensity, the afterglow of his release written all over his expression. She had never seen a man more beautiful.

On other days, they’d slip away for quiet afternoon dates, strolling hand in hand through charming cafés and narrow alleyways, laughing as they tried to decipher the meaning of Japanese characters displayed above every shopfront. 

During the last stop, they explored Tokyo with the rest of the crew. They visited Shibuya Crossing, enjoyed the breathtaking views from Tokyo Skytree, and the vibrant pulse of Harajuku. There was something surreal about the contrast between the high-energy city and the peacefulness of places like Meiji Shrine, where they found rare moments of calm even as a group. It was a balance of excitement and serenity, a much-needed pause before the final show. 

As their adventure drew to a close the day after the final concert, the mood shifted to bittersweet. Everyone gathered in the hotel lobby, taxis lined up outside with suitcases already packed into the trunks. As always, there was a deep sense of joy among the crew, but now it was laced with the quiet sadness of saying goodbye to the country that had embraced them so warmly.

Lia and Noah exchanged tight hugs and heartfelt farewells, laughter mingling with promises to reunite again once their extended stay in Japan came to an end. 

Lia was laughing at some last-minute comment Folio made when Jolly leaned in toward Noah.

“I can’t wait to see Emery, man.” 

Noah smiled and clapped him on the back. 

“Not long now.”

“Yeah, not all of us are lucky enough to have our girlfriend right here, working together, and getting to see her—and sleep with her—every night,” Jolly replied, flashing Noah a teasing grin. There was no malice in his comment, just envy of the good-natured kind.

Noah chuckled.

“You’ll catch up soon enough.”

“Emery’s meeting me at the airport in L.A.,” Jolly informed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I'll be staying at hers while you and Gremlin are gone."

“Alright,” Matt cut in, his voice loud enough to grab everyone’s attention. “I guess it’s time for us boring folks to head to the airport, or we’ll miss our flight.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and turned to Lia and Noah with a sly grin, mischief dancing in his eyes. “You two enjoy your vacation. Heading to one of those deer parks? I hear you might spot some cute little kittens wandering around, you know—wearing collars with bells and all.” He stretched out the word kittens, eyebrows raised suggestively, clearly reveling in the way Lia instantly flushed red.

Lia, who had been fiddling with a black beanie, tossed it at him.

Noah glanced between them, confused. 

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Lia replied quickly, trying to brush it off with a wave of her hand, her voice a little too light. She shot Matt a sharp look, but he just chuckled, clearly delighted by how flustered she was as he tossed her beanie back.

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.” Matt teased, raising his hands in mock surrender as he made his way to the door, still grinning. “Say hi to your Grandma!”

With the moment passed, the group gathered for their final round of goodbyes. There were hugs, more jokes, and promises to stay in touch as the last of the crew headed out to their taxis. Finally, it was just Lia and Noah.

Noah draped an arm over her shoulders.

“Ready to go?” 

Lia nodded, her face still slightly warm from Matt’s teasing, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They slipped into their waiting taxi, leaving Tokyo behind as they made their way toward Hana’s house—a quiet village not more than forty minutes away from Tokyo.

The Tokyo skyline faded into the distance as the taxi navigated through the countryside. It was only as she looked through the window, that the anticipation of seeing Grandma after almost two years began to settle in. 

As the taxi pulled up to the familiar garden gate about forty five minutes later, Lia’s pulse quickened. The house stood at the end of a short, flower-lined path, and just beyond the gate was the garden she’d been dreaming of. She spotted the little flowers she had planted years ago—small clusters of delicate blooms that had somehow survived, thriving against the odds. 

The house looked just as she remembered—quaint, cozy, with its worn wooden beams and the small porch that wrapped around the front. The path was lined with tiny bursts of color, the garden alive with flowers and greenery. 

Noah gave her hand a squeeze before letting go and reaching for their heavy suitcases.

They reached the front door, and as it swung open, there stood Hana, her hair now completely white, gathered in a low bun. She looked a little smaller than before, but her warm, familiar smile hadn’t changed at all. In that moment, all the emotions Lia had been holding in came rushing to the surface.

Her luggage slipped from her hands, landing with a thud on the floor. She didn’t even bother to take off her shoes. She rushed forward, crashing into Hana’s open arms, burying her face in the soft fabric of her soft knitted cardigan.

As she sobbed into Grandma’s shoulder, all she could hear were the words, 

“My sweet girl, it’s been so long.”

Hi, my lovely readers! V here 🌸 I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As we move forward, I have a question that I've been meaning to ask for weeks now and which I think will also help me engage more with you <3

The following chapters will provide answers to a lot of things that happened in the previous parts (ikigai & koi no yokan). Next chapter specifically, will have grandma showing something to Noah and Lia that she has kept since they were children. I want to see how fresh your memory is (I know I posted Ikigai like a year ago lol)😅 But! Any idea what it could be? 🤭 Leave your thoughts in the comments ✨

Thank you for following this story 💕

— prev. chapter | chapter eleven

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@chey-h

[thedeviltohisangel]

Fall For A Shooting Star//Cassian Week 2024: Day Three, Family

a/n: a fluffy little thing of cassian and his mate and their baby boy. a glimpse into the domestic life of this little romance i am working on for this week! there are plenty of opportunities to take this in so many different directions and hopefully i can circle back to them and make them all come to life. if you have any ideas, please shoot them my way xoxo

previous part

The cool night air soothed not only the babe in her arms but caressed her skin into comfort as well. Her silk robe was falling off her shoulder but she was too preoccupied to fix it. Jace, born only a few days ago, was restless. Too interested in seeing the moon or hearing his mother’s voice or waiting up for his father to even think about falling asleep. He was already an endlessly curious babe. Seemingly afraid to close his eyes and miss even a moment of what the world outside his mother’s womb had to offer.

“You can close your eyes, little one. I promise papa will say goodnight to you when he gets back.” Jace was quiet and for that Thea was thankful. So many of the babes at Windhaven had wailed through the night and many of the females she’d met at the new mother group in Velaris looked like they hadn’t slept in years due to the crying of their children. She hadn’t prepared for her son to be so quiet. He didn’t like to sleep but he didn’t make a sound with his discontent for it. “Did your Uncle Az teach you the benefits of being so quiet already?” She smiled and kissed the top of his head, gently rocking her hips back and forth on one of the House of Wind balconies. 

With timing that was spectacularly perfect, the silhouette of bat wings appeared on the horizon. Cassian looked like he had been launched from a cannon, anxious to be reunited with his small, little family, but pulled himself to a graceful halt at the edge of the property and descended onto the balcony with nothing more than a light bounce to his feet. 

“Is he asleep?” he whispered as he nearly tip-toed over to his mate and son. Thea shook her head.

“He likes both his parents to be under the same roof before he can sleep for the night,” she reasoned as her lips welcomed his kiss. His hand gently rested over hers where it was rubbing gentle circles onto Jace’s back. The combined warmth of his parent’s touch and the love they projected began to droop his eyes into sleep. 

“Let me get him settled, my love, while you steal however much of the blanket you wish for the night.” Thea scoffed as she gently transferred the babe to the crook of Cassian’s elbow. 

“I don’t steal anything. I just use the half that I am naturally entitled to.” She loved nothing more than burrowing into bed under a pile of blankets. More than once Cassian had come home late to nothing more than the top of her head poking out from underneath. “Everything was okay at the camps today?” He had wanted to delay his inspection of the war bands until everything with Jace was in its routine and Thea was back to full health. But Az had relayed to him an increase in discontented rumblings and Rhys hadn’t stopped him. He knew they had held the information back as long as possible to ensure Cassian’s presence for the birth of his son and for as many days after as possible. For them to be breaking the spell of eternal love and happiness he’d been living under, he knew it had to be bad.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed.” He kissed his son’s head and smiled as his tiny wings twitched. Cassian would do whatever it took to earn his son’s pride in being Illyrian. Jace would learn of his parent’s past; the loss of his mother’s wings, the loss of his grandmother, the way his father fought and clawed for every scrap he ever had. But he would fight with that same tenacity to right the wrongs of their culture. So his son could stand proud amongst his people one day. And lay claim to them in a way Cassian always had but they had never accepted him for. 

“I love you, Cass. No matter what.” No matter what you have to do to keep our son safe. No matter what this world might make you become. Because no matter what, I know exactly who you are to me. To our son. My mate. My husband. The father of my child. A good friend and an even better brother. 

“You are my everything, Thea. I love you endlessly,” he answered out loud.

“That’s good. Our lifespan together is projected to be quite long,” she offered as he followed her back into their bedroom. “I’d hate for it to be miserable for you.” She climbed into bed and watched Cassian gingerly place their son in his cradle, a kiss to his fingertips pressed gently against the babe’s skin before he began the process of removing his leathers.

“Impossible for me to be miserable when I’ve got you two waiting for me.” He stripped bare, Thea wishing the ache between her legs was something other than the painful reminder of birthing a babe with wings, and walked to her side for a quick kiss. “A quick dip with some soap and I’ll be back.” She nodded and admired his backside before the door to the bathroom shut so the light and sounds wouldn’t disturb Jace. 

When Cassian emerged only a few moments later, there was no blanket on his half of the bed. And only a pair of eyebrows and a forehead could be seen under the mound of fleece. 

He smiled. Nothing could make him happier.

@cassianappreciationweek

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Price

Chapter 13 - Two Can Keep A Secret

Summary: Set during RttE, based on the episode "Gold Rush." The entire point was for Hiccup to get Berk's Gold back. Well, he's far from his goal now.

Warnings: Implied sexual slavery, implied captivity, pregnancy

Rating: Explicit

Dead Dove: Yes

Words: 667

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless

Pairing: Vigcup, Rycup, Hiccstrid

Author's Notes: Hiccup has somethings to tell Toothless. 👀

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

All that gold needed to be taken home in pieces and not even big pieces, heavy as they were. So that is what the Dragon Riders did in the following days. All except for Hiccup, who was brought to Dragon’s Edge by his dragon instead. There he could shower, eat whatever he wanted instead of whatever Viggo approved of, and where he got to rest up in his own bed. That last one was especially important, he was so fatigued and his friends figured it was the stress, it was all he had been through.

They have no idea what the real reason is and he has no idea how to tell them.

The second he hit the many soft layers of furs, felt himself be embraced by the warmth of his dragon, he fell asleep and didn’t even move a finger for hours upon hours.

As the evening approaches and the sun sets, that’s when Hiccup wakes up. It was roughly early morning when he finally arrived back home at the dragon base, the first rays of sunlight accompanied them on the last of their travels. He slept the entire day away. He hasn’t bothered to change clothes, still in his scratchy, now slightly-less stiff three piece outfit. Tunic, pants and underwear. He slept curled up on his bed with Toothless curled up around him, his foreleg used as a pillow for his head.

This is the most rest he’s had in so long, that’s what it feels like. And the reason for that are Ryker’s early morning visits and Viggo’s late night ones.

No, that was the reason, he realizes about the same time that he realizes that he woke up on his own for once. No Viggo tearing him out of his sleep to have him brought back to his cell, no Ryker waking him up “the way he loves it.” Opening his eyes, the first thing he sees are Toothless’ black scales, the first thing he smells is his familiar draconic musk and Hiccup realizes that he’s home. Truly home. Because he’s with Toothless.

He snuggles closer to his dragon, wraps his arms around his neck and holds him. Toothless wraps himself tighter around him. Reuniting with their friends had been overwhelming, but reuniting with Toothless felt natural. It felt good, right. Even though his Bud had to take one look at the state of him and he knew, that hadn’t mattered.

The entire flight with his friends to the island where Viggo had hidden his gold felt uncomfortable, like there was an enormous weight on his shoulders, all eyes on him. Hiccup was afraid to do or say anything that would betray anything that he did with the Grimborn Brothers or let them do to him to his friends.

But the entire flight here, with just Toothless, had been utterly quiet and in the utmost comfortable way.

“Bud?” Hiccup whispers, afraid to be heard by anyone but him, like they aren’t supposed to be home alone now. Toothless gives a soft noise, closest earfin perks. His eyes are open, but he doesn’t move from his spot.

“I, uh… I need to tell you something and I don’t know ho-how to tell the others,” the dragon gives another soft noise, telling him it’s okay to tell him. Whatever it is, he’ll listen.

“I think I’m… I think I’m having a baby.”

And if he told this news to another human being, there would probably be outrage. Questions, tears, yelling, he would regret ever even thinking of telling another soul. He didn’t even tell either Viggo or Ryker of his suspicions, too nervous of their reaction. But Toothless isn’t human and simply throws his foreleg around him to imitate a hug and he licks the nearest body part he can reach, his cheek and ear, before he makes him settle again and take as much rest as he needs.

And settle is what Hiccup does, feeling secure entrusting himself and his secret with him.

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 18

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x female!Reader

Warnings: intrusive thoughts, self-loathing

Summary: Jason does not do well when left to his own thoughts

Notes: this is angsty af

Bruce didn’t let Jason do anything for two weeks after the attack from Penguins men. It annoyed the hell out of him, pacing the halls of Wayne manor, unable to do anything while the rest of the house was able to go about their daily lives. YN was trying to make time for him but with Penguin’s arrest she was asked to see what else she could get now that more people were willing to talk so she was always working. Tim was at school, Dick in Bludhaven, Bruce at Wayne Enterprises. Jason had Alfred, who honestly was the most mysterious person in the house, leaving in the morning and not back until right before Bruce returned. Jason was going crazy, and he needed to escape, unplug for a while. So, he did.

Bruce had gotten Jason a new bike of course so once he felt up to it, he decided to take it for a spin, outside the city. He rode for a couple hours, putting solid distance between himself and Gotham, breathing a little easier away from the streets and the crime and the general despair that always seem to settle on the city. The lakefront town was nice, and no one bothered him as he hiked around the lake, finding a spot near the water to just sit and be still.

“There has got to be more to what I’m doing,” he whispered to himself. He still struggled so much with his role in the world now. He was a killer, well, a reformed killer at the moment, but a killer no less. He had made New Gotham the safest place in the city, had found his soulmate, reunited with his family, but something was still broken inside him. He could feel it, those shards of himself, the darkest, sharpest parts, that struggled to stay in, wanting to pierce through his chest and destroy him. No amount of care and love from those around him seemed to make that go away. Dr. Thompkins told him that everyone had those parts to them, that they were hard to deal with, but he could cope with them. It was the why bother he was having trouble with. Why bother getting better? No one really loved him. Even YN, that was because some insane twist of fate had put her there. If he didn’t give her color, she wouldn’t even care about him. Bruce, Dick, Tim, all of them. He was a tool, something to use. Why bother with him? He was just some urchin from Crime Alley who was born to be bad. He was of cursed stock, mother an addict, father a loser, he wasn’t better than that, just trash. He tried to push back these thoughts, he wanted to get them to leave them alone, he really did. But they came back stronger every time, and the laugh that chorused with them was more than anyone could take. He was trying, he really was, but he knew that soon something would need done.

He needed to face Joker. He needed to kill him. Bruce wouldn’t do it, fool that he was, but Jason would.

By the time he got back to the mansion it was dark outside, quiet, but when he got inside the silence was eerie. He wasn’t sure what was going on. He searched the house and found no one so he went to the cave where it was a different story. Everyone was yelling, even Alfred.

“You were supposed to fix his tracker…” “I did fix it! He’s not wearing it!” “I swear if someone else has him I am going to punch all of you!” “Shut up Dick! I get to punch everyone first!” “Can we all just calm down?”

“Um, what’s going on?” Jason asked, making everyone stop their tirades and look at him. Soon the men turned, looking from Jason towards YN. She pushed passed them and when Tim went to follow Bruce held him back. She walked up to Jason and shoved him hard.

“What in the fuck were you thinking?! You run off without leaving a note, you don’t take your phone! What the hell is wrong with you!” she yelled, shoving him again and again, each time getting weaker until she was just hugging him, arms gripping his waist as tight as she could. After a moment he heard some sniffles and felt his shirt getting wet. He didn’t realize she would worry like this. No one cared about him this much.

“I just…needed to get out of my head a little bit, get out of the city…” he said, trying to explain. He tried to pry her arms from him, but she held on tighter.

“No, I’m never letting you go again,” she said. “You’re not trustworthy anymore.” Jason looked at the others, searching and finding the same kind of worry on their faces and he looked down. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. He didn’t deserve this at all. He fucked everything up. Why did they care? Why should they care? He wasn’t worthy.

“Why do you care so much anyway?” he snapped, finally getting YN to let go of him. He stepped back and she stared at him like he’d shot her. “All of you, why would any of you care about me?” He shook his head, turning and heading back upstairs. YN followed him but he made sure to close the elevator door on her, cursing himself for the hurt he saw on her face. He really was just a worthless piece of garbage. Who hurts the person they love like that? He does. He went to his room, locking the door and ignoring the knocking. First it was YN, then Alfred, then Tim, the Dick, the Bruce. He sat in his room for hours, trying to figure out a way to finish this. Finish everything. He would go down fighting Joker, take the bastard with him. If he died YN would be fine, she said so herself, she had the memories, that was enough. He got up and went to the door, opening it and YN fell backward into his room.

“Finally,” she said, standing up and dusting herself off.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked. She cocked her head to the side and moved to pick up a tray of food by the door. Jason didn’t move.

“Get back in your room, we’re going to eat together, or I’m spilling this right onto the carpet and the stain will drive you crazy,” she said. Jason considered his options for a minute, but when she started to tilt the tray towards him, he relented and stepped back into the bedroom, letting her in. She set the tray on the small table in the room and took a seat, getting it ready for him. Everything he loved was on that tray. He felt himself warming a little at the thought of what Alfred had done for him. Doesn’t mean anything, just wanting to shut you up for a while. He winced like he had been slapped.

“How bad is it?” YN asked as Jason sat down. He looked at the ground, not wanting to look at her. She looked afraid of him. God why had he made her afraid of him?

“Haven’t had a day like this in years,” he said softly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. He shook his head. “Ok.” She sat back and when he still didn’t look up. “I’ll go, just please eat something.” She stood, moving to walk past him but he grabbed her hand.

“Don’t go,” he said softly. He felt her relaxed, her hand squeezing his before she sat down again. He finally looked at her. “Do you feel cheated knowing that I’m your soulmate?”

“No, I feel incredibly lucky that I have a soulmate like you,” she said. He grunted a laugh. “I mean it Jason.”

“Why? Besides the color, what have I possibly done for you to earn you?” he asked. She frowned.

“Why do you think you need to earn me?” she asked. “I’m not a paycheck, neither are you. You’re there Jason, you exist in this world, and that’s all I need you to do, is exist. I appreciate everything extra that you do for me, but just existing is enough.” He stared at her.

“Only because I saved you, I was Robin, now I’m Red Hood, take that away…”

“And I’d still love you. I don’t love Robin or Red Hood, in fact sometimes I downright hate them because it’s terrifying knowing you’re out there and could die…again…at any moment. If you took off the helmet and the armor I would still love you. Jason Peter Todd is the man I love, hell, even if you weren’t my soulmate I would love you,” she said. Jason looked away again, not wanting her to see him being this emotional. She reached out and turned his face back to her. “Jason, I love you.” He took a breath and stared at her, not finding a lie, a half-truth, sarcasm, nothing but care in her face.

“I wish I could feel that way about myself,” he said. She moved over and he pulled her into his lap, hugging her around the waist, head on her shoulder. She ran her fingers through his hair, her other hand gently caressing his cheek.

“Let me feel that way for you then, I can tell you about how it feels. Being Jason Todd is being a good son, a better brother, the best boyfriend, it means being funny, and so much smarter than you think, not always knowing what to say when someone is having a bad day but being willing to sit with them until its better. Jason is kind, caring, passionate, and has great taste in books. All of his girlfriends agree,” she said. Jason smiled despite himself and for the first time that day the intrusive thoughts subsided. He believed her, believed every word she said.

“I love you too,” he whispered. YN smiled and kissed his head. “I’m tired.”

“Come on, let’s go to bed, can I stay with you tonight?” she asked. He could hear the worry in her voice, like she thought he might vanish again. He nodded and she went to her room to change after making him promise he wasn’t going anywhere. He got into bed himself and felt her crawl in behind him. She wrapped her around his waist, and he sighed, loving being held like this.

[petertingle-yipyip]

MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Season Three - I’m Not Sorry

tags: @ironprincessstranger @johnmurphys-sass @dusstory @americaarse @astrobees @mayasaurus--rex @woowwwee // seven // finale // masterlist

Pairing: Matt x Livia

Word Count: 7,735

Summary: Moves and countermoves. The cat and mouse game nearly draws to a close as Nelson and Murdock reunite in a last ditch effort to finish things from the right side of the law.

Truthfully, the reveal went better than you had expected. After a few questions and a bit of yelling, Ray was willing to hear you two out. You explained about getting his wife and son out of the line of fire. Ray suggested they leave New York all together but you knew Fisk would be watching all airports and seaports. You were going to offer to call Natasha, see if her billionaire buddy could spare some space but Matt said he knew someone to ask.

While Matt made his call, you asked Ray to go and get Seema and Sami.

Next thing you knew, you were driving Ray and his frazzled family to your apartment. From there, Brett took them in his car while you and Matt headed upstairs. You were both quick to change into something that would catch little to no attention before rushing back into the streets.

You and Matt walked together, his cane in one hand and the other arm linked through yours. Your body was growing heavy with every step and it almost felt as Matt had to hold you up as the weight of your latest string of endeavors began settling on your shoulders, making your latest collection of wounds thump with a heavy pulse. As if he knew that - which he probably did - he gave you a gentle nudge with his elbow.

“Can I ask you something?” He said suddenly, the rhythmic glide of his cane the only other noise on the street.

“Sure.” You nodded.

“Sister Ma- My mother told me that you look at me like I hung the stars.” He began carefully, measuring your reaction. “Is that true?”

“I mean… Did you?” You tried and he chuckled. “I know you didn’t hang the stars but…” You looked up at the night sky, only able to see pinpricks of light past the yellow glow of street lamps but that was more than what you had seen in months. “They’ve always been brighter when you’re around.” You turned back to the path you were walking. “Even now… Days are warmer. Flowers smell sweeter. It’s like everything quiets down and life isn’t so bad. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah.. I think I do.” He answered softly.

“Alright, alright. Don’t get all mushy on me now.” You joked as you nudged him with your shoulder, earning another small laugh. “I thought you were this whole super dark, brooding vigilante right now.”

“I guess you bring out a better side.” He said honestly. “You bring back Matt Murdock.”

“I thought you were leaving him behind.”

“I thought so, too.”

You two met up with Foggy just as Brett was pulling up with Ray and his family. You thanked Brett’s mom as she welcomed you in and she was as kind as you could’ve expected. Brett helped the family get settled while the rest of you waited in the living room.

There was tension brewing in the bedroom as Ray and Seema talked and you felt bad. You wanted to go and help Ray explain, maybe take some of the blame so their marriage didn’t implode, but that felt like a massive overstep. It was clear that Ray loved Seema and she loved him, but that betrayal would be hard to move past. Instead, you pulled some of that tension into your chest in hopes of them having a rational conversation.

You cleared your throat once it hit you and gave Mrs. Mahoney another thanks before heading outside, claiming to need air. Matt was quick to follow but Foggy stayed behind to talk to her.

“You okay?” Matt asked, putting a hand on your back as you leaned against the bars.

“Huh? Yeah, just… Sometimes it’s harder to block stuff out, especially when I’m tired.” You explained, rubbing your eyes. “I could feel the pain and everything from Ray’s wife. I feel like some of this is my fault..”

“How could it be your fault?”

“I didn’t stop this.” You sighed and turned to lean your back against the railing so you could cross your arms. “You were right. I should’ve just made sure this didn’t happen. Now a perfectly happy marriage is gonna be destroyed because Fisk used Ray.”

“You can’t control everything, sweetheart.”

“What about Sami? That little boy looks up to his father like he lifts the sun every morning. And now, what? He loses that because of a jackass like Fisk? That’s not fair, to either of them.”

“I know.” Matt agreed softly. “But if this works, and we get Fisk put away, Ray’s family will be safe.”

“But Seema won’t trust him again.”

“You trust me?”

“What?”

“After all the lies and the stuff I’ve put you through, everything I’ve said to you recently, do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

He gave a small smile and put a hand on your elbow. “Then I think they can get through this.”

Foggy came out soon after and talked to Matt for a minute. You were glad that you two were able to convince Matt to at least try the legal route. If that fell through, you weren’t exactly sure what would happen next. But that was a bridge you would cross if you got to it.

“So what now?” Ray sighed as he met you guys outside.

“You’re gonna testify against Fisk, after you hire them to represent you.” You answered.

“Represent me?” Ray questioned at the same time Foggy said “Them?”

“Rahul Nadeem, meet the brilliant minds behind Nelson and Murdock, attorneys at law.” You gestured to the boys.

“I thought your old firm packed it up.”

“Everyone loves a comeback story.”

“I don’t know about this, Yersova.”

“These two are the best attorneys I know. You’re in good hands.”

“What about you? How do you fit into everything?”

“I can serve as an additional testimony or a character witness, but I’m pretty sure there’s a conflict of interest card to be pulled if I help represent you while still at the bureau. Even for me, there’s limits to what I can get away with.”

“You’re not leaving?”

“Not yet, at least. With Dex still after us, I need to keep an eye on him. There’s no need for guessing what he does or doesn’t know if I can stay close enough.”

“Smart.” He nodded.

“She’s always been the brains of this trio.” Foggy threw an arm over your shoulders. “We won't let you down, Ray.”

“You, Seema, Sami.” You agreed. “We’re gonna do everything we can to help your family.”

“I know… Thank you, Livia.”

Early the next morning, you and Matt brought Ray to Fogwell’s.

“This is where you went?” You asked him as you walked in, already seeing Karen in there. She gave you a small smile and you waved slightly.

“Nobody knows about this place. We’ll be safe here.” Matt shrugged and headed to the back room.

You patted Ray on the shoulder and gestured to the table Karen was set up at before following Matt down the short hall.

“You alright?” He asked without turning to face you.

“Yeah, just tired.” You leaned back against the wall.  “And those two don’t like each other very much so..” You gave a small smile.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t wanna.” He offered, putting his hands on your arms. 

“Yeah I do.” You sighed and grabbed onto the material of his shirt. “For a second, can we just… take a moment? Forget about everything out there and between us and just…”

He smiled softly and stepped closer, moving one hand to the side of your head. He leaned down and pressed his forehead gently against yours. You took a deep breath and let go of his shirt so you could wrap your arms around his waist. Your head dropped to his shoulder and he chuckled slightly as he put a hand to the back of your head. His other hand was on your lower back as he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

As Matt held her close, very few things plagued his mind. Most of them were what he noticed about her. The tension in her muscles. The thrum of her pulse. The rise and fall of her chest. The way her arms were locked together, as if to keep him with her. He wondered how he could ever be so stupid as to walk away from her.

The other thoughts that he could put to words were small, selfish prayers. He prayed that there’d be more to their story, that it was a new first page rather than where it would end. He knew his thoughts echoed her name since he realized he was alive, every day until he saw her again. And then even more after. He left her too soon. He always knew that, whether he’d admit it or not. And now, as she was clinging to him like she was drowning and he was her lifeboat, he prayed that she wasn’t truly in love with someone else. That no one else was waiting for her. 

After taking a minute to enjoy each other’s company and take a breath, you two headed back into the main room. Karen and Ray were wrapping up their previous conversation, punctuating the tension in the room as Matt began talking about getting Ray’s family out of town.

“We were thinking overseas, maybe a friend or a distant relative.” Karen offered tightly, almost instantly snapping into focus.

“My brother’s wife has a cousin in Bihar.” Ray nodded. “I never liked him.”

“I can get them on a flight as early as tonight.” You said plainly. “But I’m guessing Fisk is watching the airports for exactly this so they’d have to fly outta Montreal, but a car is just as easy to get.”

“They’ll be watching my bank accounts.” Ray tried.

“We’ll cover it.” Matt promised and you nodded with a gentle, reassuring smile. You pulled your phone and messaged your old friend Rick, telling him you needed some help.

“Thanks.. But it might be more than I deserve.”

“Look, you… you hurt people.” Karen answered. “But it doesn’t define you.” She took a glance towards you.

“I’ve done worse than you have, believe me.” You offered honestly. “If I can have my life, so can you, Ray.”

Your phone rang in your hands as Matt sent Ray off. You stepped to the far corner and answered, turning your back to your friends as the conversation started.

“Long time, Alivia.” Rick said happily.

“Hasn’t been that long.. I had you help get someone out not too long ago.”

“No, Natasha called me for that.”

“Yeah, but it was for me so potato tomato.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes.”

“But you knew what I meant.”

“Yeah, yeah. So what do you need this time?”

“Trip to Bihar for a mom and her son.”

He let out a long sigh. “Bihar, huh?”

“But they can’t fly out from New York, so I’ll need a car to Montreal.”

“And a car out of the country? Alivia, this one’ll probably clear out your tab and then some.”

“Yeah, well, if it doesn’t, can you cash out the rest and give it to them?”

“Why are these people important to you?”

“Since when do you ask questions?”

He chuckled slightly. “Tell you what, I still have that little buried airstrip outside New York. They can fly with a friend of mine from there so it’s cheaper and I’ll cover the car.”

“Look at you, going soft.” You teased. “How much does that leave for them?”

“Somewhere around $600.”

“Can you make it $850 and I'll send a check for the rest?”

“I can give them $800 and call it even.”

“You’re the best, Rick. Thank you.”

“I’ll call you when it’s ready. Where am I getting them from?”

“I’ll get you the address when you need it.”

“Seriously?”

“With what I’m getting them away from, I can’t take any chances. It’s nothing personal.”

“Still all business, eh?” He joked and you frowned to yourself. “No worries, Alivia.  We’ll talk soon. And hey?”

“Yeah?”

“Call your cousin.”

“Goodbye, Rick.”

“I’m serious!”

“I know.” You laughed before ending the call and heading back to the table.

You sat beside Matt as Karen stepped out and he turned towards you. He put a hand on your leg and you leaned your head against his shoulder. He huffed a small chuckle before giving your leg a pat. He stood to go change, leaving you in the small room alone. You let out a deep sigh and wondered how you had gotten to that point.

How were you pitted against Fisk again? How had he swooped your partner right out from under you? How had your vigilante persona been dangled over your head as leverage? How was your career at the FBI suddenly dirtier than any work you did for Dreykov?

Maybe your life was going exactly as it was supposed to. Or maybe something diverted it so far off track that it would be nothing but chaos from here on out.

Maybe you should’ve just taken Homeland’s offers to disappear after the carousel.

Ray came back in during your quiet contemplation and paced the small room. Your eyes glanced up, only for a moment, before reverting your soft gaze to the table.

“Can I ask you something?” Ray said tentatively.

“Is it about Exodus?” Your brows raised as you faced him again. You saw the man had stopped walking and was now facing you, fidgeting with his fingers. The uncertainty radiated off him so you gave a small, reassuring smile and waved for him to go ahead.

“How did Dex know? About you?”

“When we got into his apartment, after you left, Matt and I were heading to the roof. Dex threw a piece of glass and it cut the band for my mask. When I grabbed it, he saw me.”

“Did he tell Fisk?”

You chuckled slightly before letting out a loud sigh of amusement. “No.. Fisk already knew. He was trying to intimidate me into working for him by using that secret against me, but Dex was easier to manipulate.”

“Is it true that you can get into peoples heads?”

“I’m not a telepath.” You shook your head. “I’m tele-empathetic. I can read and manipulate emotions.”

“Oh…”

“Speaking of which.” You said as you pulled yourself to sit straighter as Matt came back in and sat at the edge of the boxing ring. “You need to relax a little.” You waved a hand to clear Ray’s nervousness. “Tower’s gonna eat you alive if you don’t get it together.”

“I loved my job.” He reasoned “And I loved being the good guy. I want to be on the right side of the line again.”

“You didn’t love it enough to stop Fisk.” Matt laughed.

“Matt.” You warned as he hopped down and nodded towards Ray.

“Fisk knows how to make people vulnerable. He got my sister-in-law’s health insurance canceled, left my family with bills to pay. Bills that I had to-“

“So you take out a loan, you sell your house, you figure it out. You don’t allow yourself to become an accessory.”

“It wasn’t that easy-“ Ray tried as you argued, “He can’t just sell his house when he has his son to think about!”

“You backed his play, Ray. You moved him into his hotel. You even gave him his toys back, gave him a new one too.”

“He was giving us information that saved lives.”

“Yeah, while he was taking lives. While he was taking over the city.”

“What the hell are you doing?” You grabbed Matt’s arm to turn his focus on you but he yanked his arm away.

“I thought you were my lawyer.” Ray pressed.

“I am your lawyer but I can’t do anything to help you if you can’t answer this one simple question. Why didn’t you blow the whistle when you watched your boss murder an agent?”

“I don’t know.” Ray said quietly.

“Or when you saw Dex walk into that church?”

“Matt.” You tried but he shrugged you off.

“You didn’t say a goddamn word when he murdered a priest.”

“Matt!” You said firmly and turned on him.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why are we here?” Matt yelled.

“Because I took the damn bait!” Ray answered with the same tone. There was a pause while your hand twisted at your side to bring everything back to a calmer level. “Because I didn’t want my son to see me as just an average federal employee… I messed up. I destroyed my life, my family’s life. And I would do anything to take it all back again.”

“Good.” Matt nodded. “You tell that to the DA, and I can help you.”

You smacked his arm as he turned back to the table. You faced Ray and gave an apologetic smile. He gave a small nod before you stepped closer and put an arm over his shoulders. He hesitantly embraced you back and you felt a heavy shudder as that regret toppled against you.

“I know he’s a dick right now-“ You explained as you pulled away. “-but he’s a good lawyer. He’s gonna help you.”

“Thanks, Livia.” He nodded. “And thank you for helping my family. I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“Consider it my apology.” You shrugged. “It never should’ve got to this point.”

“Yeah..”

“I’ve gotta get to work. Call me if you need anything.” You said quickly. “Oh, and Matt? Fisk nearly had me when he showed me that prison fight. If you hadn’t come back that night, it probably would’ve been me instead of Dex.. I would’ve done whatever I had to so I could protect you and your secret, even in death... Think about that.”

“I never would’ve asked you to do that.” He reasoned.

“You wouldn’t have had to and you know it. I didn’t ask you to stay at Midland but you did because you thought it was right. You thought I’d be safe, right?”

He nodded silently.

“Ray didn’t ask to be stuck in the middle of this bullshit either. Just help him do right by Sami, alright?”

As you were turning to leave, you nearly ran into Tower and Foggy. Foggy gave you a quick hug and you greeted Tower in a hurry before rushing out and to the hotel for work. 

When you got in, you greeted the few agents that were left. All people you could no longer trust, even though most were nice enough. People that you knew would try to kill you if they were told to, whether they wanted to or not. People that weren’t on your side and may end up paying with their own lives. You set your shoulders as you walked down the hall and followed behind Dex as he entered the suite with the lunch tray.

“Can I get you anything else, Sir?” Dex asked, to which he was ignored.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about Karen Page. She would be dead if Agents Nadeem and Yersova hadn’t interfered.”

Again, he was met with silence and you almost felt bad for him. Dex needed reassurance, needed confirmation that he was doing right by someone. And to deprive him of that was what would truly break whatever was left in him. Whether or not that break would work in your favor was still up in the air so you couldn’t afford it. Not yet, at least.

“After everything you’ve done for me, I… I just wanted to tell you that I’ll keep my word. I will find her and when I do, I am going-“

“No.” Fisk said simply and even you were surprised. “The matter will be handled but not by you.”

“I can handle Nadeem and Livia.”

“Do nothing… It’s clear that I have put too great a burden on your shoulders. Your relationship with Agent Yersova, it was too sentimental for you to finish the job. You let her beat you.”

“I don’t care about Livia, alright? I don’t. I can make this right.”

“I see it, the way you look at her.” Fisk nodded slightly as he caught sight of you. “It’s admirable that you want to protect her but it needs to end. She wouldn’t do the same for you.”

“That’s enough.” You spoke finally, earning a quick turnaround from Dex. “Let’s go, Dex.”

You could see the heavy movements of his chest as he breathed deeply. You offered a small nod and held a hand out for him to take. He looked between you and Fisk before taking your hand and letting you guide him out.

The small action was in no way a show of solidarity. It was nowhere near you two being on the same side again. All it was, to you, was a stand against Fisk. You very clearly had already chosen Matt’s side since Dex attacked the Bulletin, and even before that. You wouldn’t turn on the man you loved - and the man who still loved you - for a man who was dead set on killing your friend.

For the time being, you would use that soft spot to your advantage for as long as you had it.

And it showed Fisk that you could still take Dex away.

“You can’t protect them both.” Fisk called as you began to leave. “You’ll have to choose.”

“So will you.” You glanced up and saw Vanessa standing near the top of the stairs. “Who will you protect?”

Back at Fogwell’s, Matt and Foggy were well into their conversation with DA Tower about what Ray knew. The back and forth finally settled on five years jail time for Ray, on all felony accounts. Tower promised to have a grand jury together by 4pm, so all that was left was securing immunity for Livia.

“We have another agent who’s willing to testify alongside Ray, a character witness in his favor but also a witness to some of these crimes.” Matt began calmly, though if Livia was there, she’d tell him he was practically vibrating.

“So where are they?” Tower shrugged.

“We’re not bringing her in until she’s guaranteed full immunity.” Foggy continued and Matt knew his friend was feeling that same surge, given how his heart was steadily beating faster.

No matter how many times they’d defended someone, how many times they went tit for tat against their oppositions in court. It was different when their friends were on the line. It always meant that much more.

“She…” Tower repeated with a nod. “It’s Yersova, isn’t it?”

“Immunity.” Foggy repeated calmly.

“If she’s as involved and knowledgeable as you say, then she’d be in deep shit. She’d lose her position at the FBI and there’d have to be jail time… What about an anonymous witness?”

“That’s hardly ever used in the US.” Foggy replied with furrowed brows.

“I’m sure I can make it work..”

“If you can’t….” Matt tried, waving his hand expectantly.

“How about… No jail time if she just peacefully retires from the FBI.” Tower shrugged.

“She won’t go for that.” Matt countered. “She loves that job.”

“I don’t care. I mean, don’t you guys see that she is just as much to blame as he is?” Tower insisted, pointing to Ray. “She didn’t stop anything either.”

“No, but she warned you from the start, didn’t she?” Matt answered smoothly, to which Tower sighed heavily. “She told you it was a bad idea but you all went along with it anyway.”

The DA cursed quietly before running a frustrated hand down his face. “If she can’t testify anonymously, then I guess she just has to deal with repercussions from the bureau.”

“Thank you. I’m sure we can get her to agree to that.” Foggy nodded with a proud smile before Tower left. He then turned to Matt and patted his friend on the shoulder. “You’re calling her.”

“What?” Matt’s jaw dropped. “She’s not gonna answer me!”

“She’s not gonna answer me!” Foggy reasoned. “And I thought you guys were patching things up. What happened to that?”

“C’mon, man.”

“When has she ever not answered when you called?” Foggy mumbled as he pulled out his phone and dialed Livia, putting it on speaker. “But hey, feels good, right?” He grinned.

“What? Letting Ray serve five years?”

“Any other lawyers, he would’ve gone away a lot longer. But I meant working together, you and me.”

Foggy was so caught up in his own words that he didn’t realize Livia had answered. Even Matt barely heard the shift from dial tone to active call.

“Doing what we’re supposed to be doing the way we’re supposed to be doing it.”

“Yeah..” Matt gave a small chuckle. “It felt good.”

“Right? I miss this. Working together, giving a shit about my clients.”

Livia laughed quietly on the other end of the call.

“Not just billing midtown jackholes in six minute increments.”

“Bet those jackholes pay well though, huh?” Livia laughed through the phone. “Matt make fun of the new shoes yet?”

“No, I was getting to it though.” Matt continued the joke and Foggy mocked the laughter. “I don’t know, Livvy. He might’ve gotten used to the money.”

“It suits him.” She agreed, and Matt knew there was a smile on her face.

“So I’ll get un-used to it.” Foggy countered happily. “We should do this again. All of us.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. We’re not there yet.”

“But we’re getting there.”

Matt let out a small sigh but nodded, begrudgingly agreeing.

“Guys.. As much as I love this reconciliation, did you call me just so I’d be included?” Livia asked with a light chuckle.

“No, actually, we have an update.” Foggy answered. “When do you get off?”

“I can probably leave around three for lunch or just take a half day if I need it. Why?”

“Tower can get the grand jury at four and you can get added to testify.”

There was a brief silence in the conversation, filled with the sounds of shuffling feet as Livia was likely moving further away from her colleagues.

“Okay… What’s at stake for me?”

“You should be able to testify anonymously.” Matt explained. “And then you only have to take whatever backlash comes from the bureau.”

“You mean from Fisk through the bureau.” She scoffed.

“It was either that or an early retirement.” Foggy added. “I think it’s a solid plan, Livia. And I’m pretty sure we’re gonna need you to sell this thing.”

She sighed and allowed a small silence to pass. Matt could only imagine the thoughts running through her head. She had to be worried about repercussions from Fisk. She’d been taunting him, challenging him since she’d met him, and now she’d be taking yet another stand against him. She had to know that every stand was potentially another nail in her coffin.

But how many times had she cheated death? Matt had started to think she was immortal, though not invulnerable. And they both knew Fisk knew what cards to play to expose her vulnerabilities.

Matt hated and loved that he was one of them.

“Okay.” Was all she said. “I’ll meet you guys where I left you and we can head together.”

“No, we should split.” Matt argued.

“No, we just go unmarked. Maybe a couple switches if it gets tense. I’m not losing this like we lost Jasper.”

“I really think-“

“And I think you need to stop questioning me.” She said firmly. “I’ve done stuff like this more than either of you. I think I should- Oh, shit. I gotta go.”

“Wait, Livia.” Foggy tried but she was already gone.

“There you are.” Dex said as he approached you with an unusually welcoming smile. “Who you talking to?”

“Friend from college.” You shrugged and shoved your phone away. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

“You’ll see.” He nodded towards the door and began backing away, turning to walk straight once you began following him.

When you two walked in, you were met with two other agents attempting to maneuver a large white painting with a wooden frame.

Rabbit in a snowstorm.

“I thought she wouldn’t sell…” You spoke softly, in mild disbelief that Fisk’s most sentimental possession that he was denied had found its way back to him. “Something about the Nazis and her family being the rightful owners.”

“Just took some extra persuasion.” He shrugged.

That sentence didn’t sit right in your stomach as Vanessa joined you.

“This is from Wilson.” Dex told her and you stepped aside to let her stand between you two.

“I was wondering where it had gone.” Vanessa said, looking at the painting she too adored.

“It was home.” You mumbled and wiped a hand down your face to cover it.

“Alivia, wasn’t it?” She smiled at you. “Alivia Vostokoff.”

“Well, no. Yersova, actually.” You admitted.

Her brows raised slightly and she nodded. “Wilson has spoken very highly of you. He respects you a great deal.”

You saw in her eyes a knowing spark. Fisk told her who you were and she was letting you know. She was using her words from the last conversation you had with her as Exodus as a lure to flaunt her knowledge of your truth in front of you.

“The feelings aren’t mutual.” You lifted your chin slightly.

“Tell me, do you still have the painting?”

“Vibrant and loud, but also gentle and vulnerable… Yeah, I do. But it’s not hung anymore. Too many painful memories. The guy I was with when I bought it? We didn’t work out.”

“I see.” She nodded slightly. “Art is wonderful that way, isn’t it? Something so simple-“ She turned to face the large, seemingly blank canvas. “-can be so influential.”

“A bit unnerving as well.”

“As all powerful things are.” She looked over her shoulder to you again. “On either end of the spectrum.”

You looked at the simple painting again and while you remained unimpressed by the creation, your eyes snagged on the new pop of color on the side. A brief splatter of blood that almost no one would notice, but it stood out like neon to you. You then realized that the woman didn’t change her mind. Of course she didn’t. Of course Dex went off and did something terrible to an innocent woman who had suffered her fair share.

“We haven’t formally met yet.” Dex said and took a step to be more in front of Vanessa. Your brows raised slightly but you said nothing. “I’m Agent Poindexter.. Dex. And if you need anything at all, just think of me as the new James Wesley.”

You sucked in a breath between your teeth and tilted your head, earning the attention of both Vanessa and Dex.

“It’s a shame what happened to old Wesley, isn’t it? A whole clip on his chest… And an unrecognizable burn through his sternum. Now, I’d hate to see something like that happen to you.” You said with fake concern lacing your words. It earned you a confused expression that quickly shifted to a glare from your partner.

Vanessa offered you a slight smirk before returning to the previous conversation. “It’s a pleasure to meet you… Vanessa Marianna.” She moved to sit on one of the sofas and Dex shot you a warning look, to which you shrugged.

“I’ve always told Wilson that he has great taste in art.” Dex continued and you rolled your eyes.

“He does love to put beautiful things on display.” She agreed, but there seemed to be something else she was hinting at. “Where’d you find it?”

“Some lady had it. Wilson couldn’t get her to sell it.”

“Well, that must’ve been very disappointing for him. It’s the painting in his collection that means the most to us.”

“I figured as much, so I thought I’d ask her one last time.”

Vanessa scanned the painting again and you saw her attention catch on the slightly bloodied corner as well. You felt a brief uncertainty from her but it shifted to a strange sense of comfort. You wondered if she found peace in violence, in chaos, and maybe that’s why she liked Fisk.

If that was her, a seemingly innocent and unsuspecting woman, what did that mean for you? But when you thought about the violent men you attracted, you were genuinely thankful you were still alive.

The rest of your day was uneventful and you left for lunch right on time. Dex tried to get you to stay, to go with him and “get things back to normal” but you refused. He tried to reason that he was just off from Julie ghosting him and you had half a mind to scream that she was probably dead. Only reasons you didn’t were because you didn’t want to cause a scene when you were drastically outnumbered and if someone threw Matt’s death at you like that, you would’ve gone on a massacre that rivaled your escape from the Red Room.

“Courthouse. No stops.” Matt told the van driver before ushering Ray to the back. You hurried over and watched the relief cross Ray’s face as you got to them. “Nice of you to join us.” Matt smiled gently.

“Yeah, well.” You shrugged with a smile. “It’s not like I have a reason not to.”

“None of this bothers you, does it?” Ray asked a nervous chuckle as you climbed into the back of the van.

“Y’know, with the company of my esteemed attorney here, I have to tell you.” You began dramatically, watching Matt try to hold back a smile. “Rahul Nadeem, I’ve been through so much worse.. Fisk doesn’t scare me.”

“You ever think maybe he should?” He tried as the van took off, just trying to keep his mind distracted so as to not lose his nerve.

You cleared your throat slightly to break up the tension between you all. With a small flick of your fingers, you cleared his uncertainty and let trust fill its place. Trust in you and in Matt. He looked at you and then to Matt, who offered an interested head tilt in return, before he nodded to himself.

“I thought about it… But then who would do this?” You gestured to the van and he broke a small smile.

“You’re nuts, yknow that?” He laughed.

“So I’ve been told.” You nodded with a grin.

After a bit of silence, Ray turned to Matt.

“I’ve gotta ask you something.” He said simply.

“You wanna know about Daredevil.” Matt sighed and you tilted your head, quietly acknowledging that it was a fair thing to wonder.

“I stepped off the path for a few weeks and it destroyed my life… But your life, both of you, you step on and off all the time.”

“It complicates our life, too.” Matt said, seemingly thinking of just how that lifestyle affected him. “Trying to have it both ways.”

“Does it?” Ray scoffed slightly. “I mean, your friends know who you are, what you do. Your girl-“ He gestured to you. “-is right there with you.”

“My life almost got them killed.” Matt countered. “And not for the first time.”

“Not to mention what I drag them into.” You confessed and gave a small lift of your hand. “Everything he puts at risk, so do I. Problem is that I tend to make more rash decisions because I’m the one who’s stepped off the path… He talks about what he’s done and all this but he’s never gone far from the path, y’know? He’s always just walking next to it and finds his way back. Every time, I still try to do the right thing and stay on the straight and narrow but… There’s blood on my hands, Ray. A lot. And there’s always going to be blood on my hands. But if it keeps my friends safe and it helps someone else sleep at night, if a little girl can go home to her parents instead of becoming something like me, I’ll do it again.. We don’t get it both ways. We each sacrifice a lot because we continue to choose this. We give up certain things and..” Your eyes turned to Matt. “Even certain people.”

“Yeah, I don’t see how we could.” Matt sighed, his head turning to the floor as if disappointed. That feeling flashed, only for a moment, before disappearing and being replaced. You felt bad as you understood it was what you said.

Ray insinuated that you could have the people you loved and the lifestyle you continued to choose. And your words implied that you didn’t believe that or didn’t want it. But it wasn’t that you didn’t want it. It was that, at every opportunity, life seemed to not let you. You didn’t believe you were meant to have everything you wanted, so you sacrificed your relationship with Matt because just having him as a friend was better than him dead.

“You guys already do.” Ray said gently, meeting your eyes and offering a small nod towards Matt to which you frowned slightly. “I messed up, and no matter what happens today, I don’t know if my wife’s ever coming back.”

“She loves you, Ray.” You offered honestly, earning a small smile from him. “You’re the father of her child, for crying out loud. It might take time but you’re not gonna lose her. You won’t lose your family.”

“And your friends, they keep coming back.. How do you hold on to them?”

You turned to Matt and he sighed to himself. You leaned back and crossed your arms with slightly raised brows, interested in what Matt would say.

“It’s not me.. It’s them.” He nodded towards you. “They hold on to me.”

You noticed Matt’s attention shift, but all you could hear was the honking. You pushed yourself up quickly and climbed to a kneel as you ditched your blazer. You reached for your gun as Matt motioned for you to get down. Seconds later, he grabbed Ray and your trio dropped to your stomachs. When the bullets finally stopped, you got up quickly and gripped your weapon. You turned over your shoulder and felt a fading sensation from the front seat.

“Driver’s dead.” You said quickly before waving a hand to Ray’s attention “Get your gun out. Matt?”

“Uh..” Matt said before grabbing your hands and showing where to shoot. “There’s a guy right here.”

“Yersova, we can’t shoot blind.” Ray tried.

“They’re reloading. Fire your weapon!” Matt insisted.

You groaned in mild annoyance and fired two quick shots. Matt gave you a new target and you fired again. Ray took the third so you hopped out of the van.

You felt a hand trying to close around your arm as you landed but you were quick to move out of reach. You kept your gun raised as you crept around the stopped vehicles. You came across a man on the floor, gripping his bleeding leg, so you came up and pressed your foot against the wound. He yelled in pain so you fired a shot through his forehead. A loud shatter drew your attention and you saw Matt diving through the windshield.

You rolled your eyes slightly at his dramatics before meeting with him and Ray.

“We need to stick together.” Matt scolded as he repositioned his glasses.

“If we did what I said, we wouldn’t be here.” You mumbled as you took position in front of them. “Just follow me.”

“Livia, just stop and listen.” He grabbed your arm and yanked your back. You pulled out of his grip and used your other hand to press him back against the nearest car. “Trust me, alright? You two pretend to lead me and do what I say.”

“Мне не нужна твоя помощь.” You sneered, pushing off him and moving forward again. (I don’t need your help.)

You moved to the other side of the cars and got to the side of the next two. While they were distracted firing at Ray, you moved quickly. You ran at them and let yourself collide with the first man, hooking an arm around his shoulders. Using the first man as leverage, you slammed your feet against the second one. The impact made him fall back and hit the back of his head against the car.

As your momentum shifted to push you backwards, you moved your leg until you felt your foot against the car. You hooked the toe of your shoe into the wheel well. That allowed you somewhere to steady yourself and pull, which forced the first man to slam back against the hood. You climbed up so one knee was against his chest as you slammed your gun against his temple.

You watched as Matt and Ray made their way forward but you were distracted by a heavy hit of fear. You quickly looked around the cars before seeing the familiar yellow fog leaking from a sedan a few feet away. At the same time you were making your way to her, one of Fisk’s gunmen was heading that way.

You acted fast, firing a shot into the man’s leg. He buckled almost instantly, which allowed Matt time to pick him up and slam him into the vehicle. You opened her door and got her attention while Matt fell into his helpless blind man routine. Flashing your badge was enough to get her to trust you and run as fast as she could in the other direction.

When you found the guys again, they were stuck in a fistfight on a bus. You climbed to the hood of the closet car, knelt as you lined your shot at the man that had Ray, and fired. The bullet landed in the side of the man’s head, causing him to fall limp. You slid down and hurried across as Matt kicked a man out of the bus. When he tried to get up, you slammed your heel down to finish it.

“Oh shit.” Matt groaned.

“What?” Your brows furrowed.

“It’s a cab.”

“Who cares? Just get in. Ray, you drive.”

You climbed into the backseat and shoved your gun back into place. You wiped the blood splatters from your hands and face but could do nothing about the splotches on your clothes.

At least you had evidence of the attack.

Ray made it a quick drive to the courthouse and the three of you were quickly ushered into the building. You met with Foggy and Karen, who didn’t bother to hide their concerned expressions. You offered a small smile for reassurance but that seemed to only deepen Foggy’s frown. Tower rushed your group through the halls, which allowed for Foggy to give a rundown on what would happen next.

“What about my family?” Ray asked, turning to you.

“My guy is taking care of it. They should be out by tonight, early morning at the latest. Karen, can you get the details to Seema?” You leaned around the group to see her on the far end.

“Yeah, yeah I can.” She nodded quickly. 

You pulled a folded envelope from your back pocket and passed it over, with all the details of where they were going and what you were able to give them, along with the number to text her address to once you said it was good. You explained that you’d tell them once you heard back.

“Right after I do this.” She gestured outside.

“Well, wait.” You stepped behind the guys to move closer. “What are you trying to do?”

“Press conference.”

“Are you insane?”

“Look, it’ll keep the majority of eyes off you guys for a minute. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna be pretty interested in what I’m gonna have to say.”

“Karen…”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Be careful.” You sighed and she patted your arm before hurrying off.

Tower led you and Ray into the courtroom and the small room had an entirely different atmosphere. It was suffocatingly tense and the fear hung heavy in the room. You cleared your throat slightly to try and break it up, but it seemed to swell right back together. You tilted your head slightly with a quick brow raise to admit to yourself that it wouldn’t change.

“Before we begin, I should make it known that your petition for an anonymous witness has been declined. Given the severity of this case, any and all federal agents need to be identified and held responsible. Will both witnesses proceed?” The judge explained as you all approached the bench.

Ray’s hand found yours and you shivered slightly. It was no different, to testify anonymously or not. You stood against Fisk before and survived. You took on Dex multiple times and survived. The Hand. Yakuza. Red Room. Billy Russo. You wouldn’t turn and cower because your name was going to be attached to your words.

You would stand against Fisk, mask or no mask and taunt his retaliations yet again.

Let him come. Let him try.

“Yes, I will.” You nodded.

They took Ray’s testimony first while you sat beside Tower. It seemed to drag on, every word raking across your nerves. Your own body felt electric, thrumming heavily with every second that ticked by. At first, you assumed it was your own jitters but you had gone through worse. You were raised to withstand worse, so why were you so rattled?

You realized then it was coming from somewhere else. You turned the jury and saw the faintest buzzing around them. Understandably, it was a huge case to be a part of so it made sense they’ll have some anxiety. But one juror in particular stood out. One seemed to be vibrating in his seat.

Something else was weighing on him.

He looked quickly between you and Ray, fidgeting with his hands as his leg bounced hard enough to rock him in his seat.

Your eyes closed and you sighed to yourself as you understood. Fisk had a man on the grand jury. Nothing you said would matter.

You’d already lost.

[ellekhen]

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 40 - Drawn to You

Chapter Summary: Reunited with the rest of their companions, the adventurers prepare for their journey towards the Shadowlands. Church seems determined to obscure the truth from his friends, but someone sees straight through him. A preoccupied Astarion discovers just one of Church's secrets, and it sets into motion a revelation of his own.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 185K+ words; Chapters 40/54

Excerpt below:

“May I sit here?”

Church startles as he looks up, pleasantly surprised to see the rogue that had crept up soundlessly behind him. 

“Of course,” he smiles. “I love to share a view.”

The elf carefully settles himself beside him. Church wonders if Astarion can hear the thud of his heart, or if the mountain wind somehow manages to drown it out as they take in the view.

The rising sun turns the fog below into waves of gold. Church feels a pang of dread as he remembers the view of the dark shadows stagnant over the Shadowlands — illuminated only in necrotic magic. 

“I’ll miss this, once we get into the Shadowlands,” the tiefling murmurs, gesturing at the sunrise. 

“Yes,” Astarion says absently, fidgeting with his sleeve. And then — 

“Do you have a moment?” he blurts, a stammer in his voice. “I — I think we need to talk.”

“Oh — of course,” Church replies, taken aback. “Are you alright?” 

Another wave of dread washes over him. Gods, his companion knows about the curse and everything the tiefling has been hiding, doesn’t he? But how? Did he spy on him and Gale while they talked and trained last night?

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” Astarion says, strangely flustered. “I just… feel awful.” 

Church blinks at him, his heart sinking. Oh — this is about something else entirely, isn’t it? He feels the harsh burn of guilt at the memory from last night. He hadn’t meant to spurn or insult Astarion. It’s the last thing he wanted to do, really. He had wanted him, but it just didn’t feel right…

“Don’t,” Church insists. “I know we’re not quite… seeing things eye to eye. I’m sorry for pushing you away last night, I was just so tired and—”

“—it’s not that,” Astarion interrupts him hastily. “Not really. Sort of.”

Church takes in his hesitant, torn expression. For a moment Astarion seems to be intent on surveying the view, his hands — anything but the tiefling himself. 

But then his red eyes flick up to meet Church’s, and the tiefling feels a jolt in his heart at how intense they are as they gaze at him. 

“Look,” Astarion says, gesturing animatedly as he finds his words, “I had a plan. A nice, simple plan! Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me…”

He titters nervously, and Church realizes that none of this comes as a surprise, honestly…

“It was easy!” Astarion says, before frowning to himself. “Instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in! All you had to do… was fall for it.” 

His voice quavers under Church’s gaze. 

“And all I had to do was… not fall for you.” He scoffs unhappily. “Which is where my nice, simple plan… fell apart.” 

Church doesn’t dare move a muscle, blink an eye, or utter a word as he sits there — hand clenched white-knuckled upon his journal, utterly entranced by the nervous elf before him. He’s never seen Astarion so small and shaken outside of the time the tiefling had been brought back from the dead, or when the elf spoke to him after defeating Auntie Ethel.

But this time, the elf gazes at him with an awe Church has never thought would ever be directed towards him.

“You… you’re incredible,” Astarion confesses breathlessly. “You deserve something real.” 

His eyes… they don’t leave Church’s as they implore him to hear him, to see him, to understand that…

“I… want us to be something real.”

Church blinks, scarcely believing not just his ears, but his eyes. Astarion looks almost scared, but not in the way that often precedes the elf lashing out with spite. He looks warily upon the tiefling as he willingly sheds the prickly armor around his vulnerable soul, trusting Church as he hands him the figurative blade. 

The idea of it terrifies the tiefling as much as it flatters him. He starts to speak, but stops himself as he forces himself to look away from the elf — blinking the sun from his eyes. 

He can’t help but hear the nasty voice in his head, twisting the words the elf had just spoken so earnestly to him…

…it was all an act. He lied to you. He used you…!

“So was it not real, for you?” Church murmurs in an attempt to drown the voice out. “Did… any of our time together — the nights, the days — mean anything to you?”

Astarion bristles. “Of course they did! That’s the problem, or…” he hesitates, “...part of it.” 

He flounders for a moment, stammering over his words as they come. 

“Being close to someone — any kind of intimacy — was something I performed to lure people back… for him,” he explains darkly. “Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. It still brings up those feelings of disgust… and loathing.”

It certainly explains a lot, but Church can’t push away the guilt inside of him as he thinks of every compromising moment of supposed pleasure they spent together.

…of course you disgusted him. He didn’t want you — you wanted him. And you used him so selfishly…

“I’m so sorry,” Church babbles in his alarm. “If… if I knew…”

“Don’t be silly,” Astarion interrupts him quickly. “It wasn’t your fault. Any of it. You couldn’t have known when I was just… throwing myself at you.”

He sighs.

“The truth is, I don’t know how to be with someone,” he says, glancing regretfully at Church. “...no matter how much I’d like to.”

Start from the beginning!

[dent-de-leon]

Hey Leo, do you think if Gustav found out about Molly/Kingsley being reborn versions of Lucien, who was murdered, he'd suddenly become terrified of Tealeaves?

Not because of anything they've actually done, but because if one reborn murdered soul found him once..... who's to say that more won't follow?

And who's to say they won't have a more personal score to settle with him?

Oh, that's interesting! I feel like Molly's fondness for his circus family still bleeds into Kingsley, still affects him once he starts getting those memories back. I think Gustav will always mean something to him, even if he might not want to admit it at first. And on Gustav's end, I think he had enough love for Molly--and guilt over his death--that he would happily take in any incarnation of Tealeaf.

The only one that would have anything against Gustav is Lucien, I think. And...I don't really think he would even find him too threatening, because he was willing to risk taking Molly in in the first place.

I would not at all be surprised if Gustav knew the Tavelles, or at least had heard of them. They're both from Shadycreek, and there are only so many people in the Run who are entertainers and showmen. A family of purple tieflings that would sing and dance and put on little plays? I feel like that's something that's hard not to notice, and I can imagine Gustav seeing their caravan pass by from time to time.

And given that they all got caught up in a bargain with a hag from the Savalirwoods, that this little family of tiefling performers ended up all dying, their caravan set on fire--the horror of the fact that they resurrected their own son as an undead puppet before that...I feel like Gustav had to have at least heard stories of this bard-like tiefling family that all died horribly--or just vanished--right there in Shadycreek.

And then he sees this purple tiefling wandering around the Savalirwoods over a decade later, "Empty" and alone and looking so terribly haunted...? I do wonder if Gustav recognized him in that moment, saw this soft, heartbroken tiefling and remembered some of the horror stories about the Tavelles.

Of course, I could just be reading too much into it. But, whether Gustav had ever heard of Lucien before or if he had no idea where Molly came from, the comic still portrays him as taking a dangerous risk in letting this stranger into their camp. Accepting him at once and offering him shelter. He just didn't have the heart to turn Molly away, and I think that would hold true for any incarnation of Tealeaf he ever met. "What are we, if not a home for broken things?"

I also think to this day he still regrets Molly's death, and if he ever found out that that shard of his soul lived on, then...I think he'd want to find him again, try to reach out and check in. He was the closest thing Molly ever had to a parent, and then he dies so young, so tragically--and Gustav could do nothing to stop it. For him, Molly is, “A brief star burning very bright, but twice as short...It's a shame. He was a good one.” Another one of his regrets. And if he could reunite with him in this new life, try to make amends in some way--I'm sure he'd want that.

Given Gustav's philosophy of taking in "broken" souls--while the rest of the camp chide him for taking too many risks because of how soft he is--I can definitely see him welcoming Kingsley back with open arms. King also mentioned wanting to retrace his steps with Nein, to "go and visit and learn." Beau even asks Molly, "Don’t you want to see Gustav now that you’ve paid off his debt?” during that final Cognouza fight, and it definitely has an effect on him. I can see Kingsley wanting to reunite with him and the other circus folk sometime in the future, once he feels ready to face the past.

I think the only thing Gustav would ever have to fear is...the possibility that Tealeaf finds out he was willingly giving victims to Kylre, entirely complicit in it. I think it would've broken Molly's heart to see that the closest thing to a parental figure he ever had--one of the kind circus folk who gave him a home and shaped his core morals--was leading others to their deaths behind his back. (And the parallels to his parents bringing victims to a hag and Gustav's deal with a demon is just...chilling--)

"Things came back quick, and the circus helped--they were good people. They did a lot for me, and joy can fill an awful lot in a person's life...I stayed with that circus for two years. I know how people treat each other, it's important." Gustav even gave Molly his name.

I don't know that Mollymauk would've been able to forgive that kind of betrayal--especially since he was only alive for two brief--mostly happy--years, and the whole concept of betrayal is something he's never really personally experienced. Especially if Lestera died as a result of Kylre feeding on her. Which, isn't explicitly stated or anything in the comic, but...we know he was eating older folk, and Lestera seemed perfectly fine and healthy before dropping dead suddenly right before Molly was meant to meet her.

And from the way Taliesin looks so hurt when he starts to realize that Kylre has been eating people who came to the circus? The way he just stops and goes, "Oh...Oh no..." I do wonder if a part of that was him realizing that...maybe that's what happened to Lestera. After all, we know he was feeding on Toya too. The fact that we get a panel of the rest of the circus folk mourning Lestera at her funeral--with the exception of Gustav--also seems like a deliberate choice. We never get to see his face. I wouldn't be surprised if her death was something else he was wracked with guilt over, another reason he wanted to stay in that cell.

And given how Kingsley started asking about, "a beautiful woman in a red coat" as soon as he woke up, seemed so disappointed when he couldn't find her...I think once he realizes Lestera is gone, that's still going to really hurt. And if he finds out it was someone he used to be close to that caused her death? I could see that causing some bad blood between them.

Either way, I think it would still be good for them to meet. To have that closure--and perhaps a part of Gustav also wants to confess everything to someone from the circus, admit what was really going on after it's haunted him all this time. I don't know that Tealeaf would forgive him, or whether he'd feel too distanced from it all, but. I think it's still a conversation that would heal them both to finally have.

I think Gustav would be so moved and relieved to see Tealeaf alive again for the first time, overjoyed at the chance for a reunion. Either that, or...I wonder if he looks at this lost soul he couldn't save, who was so full of joy and life, fiercely loyal and protective--with so much love to give, so compassionate--and. I wonder if a part of him sees King as a ghost come back to haunt him for all he's done--

[aquadestinyswriting]

The Portal Dilemma

Summary: Selene and Edwin receive a letter that has them scratching their heads at first, only to realise that it's an invitation back to Fangthane. Sadly, said invitation comes with some caveats that neither are too happy about.

Words: 923

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @flashfictionfridayofficial @sparrow-orion-writes-orion-writes,@warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @blind-the-winds, @thesorcerersapprentice,@writeblrcafe, @ashiru, @writeblrcafe

Warnings: None

Notes: For Flash Fiction Friday's 'Portal Fiction' prompt. Set a few months after the end of the Destiny's New Servants campaign.

Toreguarde lay in partial ruin. The area around where the wizard's tower had once stood was still buried under tens of feet of hardened ash and volcanic rubble, but the cleanup was likely to take at least another half year to be completed anyway. The rest of the city, however, was well on its way to being restored. Life was finally beginning to return to some sort of normality.

Edwin turned the letter he'd just been handed by the courier over in his hands, wondering why he and Selene would be receiving a letter from the Cathedral of Kherillim in Fangthane, of all places. He walked into the kitchen of the home he now shared with the former Grand Magus,

"Do we know anyone that works in the cathedral in Fangthane?" He asked, placing the unopened letter on the table in front of Selene, who was blearily sipping on a fresh mug of bloc coffee. The wizard blinked, picking up the heavy parchment. After a long moment, she slowly nodded,

"We do." She murmured slowly, "But why on Titan's green earth is Meredith writing to us and not Elowyn?" She asked, making sure that the envelope did indeed have their names on it. Edwin shrugged,

"Only one way to find out." He said, gesturing at the letter. Selene cracked the seal, pulled out the parchment inside and read the message aloud for Edwin's benefit;

Dear Abouna Goodwin and Head Librarian Frigidwake,

I hope this message finds you both well and that repairs to the damage that Toreguarde received during Ragnarok are being swiftly repaired.

I understand that you are both close friends of Moradin's Champion, Dar Ivan Jaegersson, so it will please you to hear that word has reached the Cathedral of his return to Mechanus following the events of Ragnarok. While I know that Toreguarde is still officially written into the Fangthane Book of Grudges, I'm writing to extend you both a personal invitation back to the mount so that he may be reunited with both his family and your good selves. Please do feel free to drag Dar Ivan back to Toreguarde to pay off his Plot Hook bar tab during his visit, I'm sure Orrock will be more than happy to finally have it settled.

I am obligated to inform you that the invitation is conditional. His Majesty and several remaining members of the High Council wish to ask you both some questions regarding the rooms you found beneath the Cathedral upon returning from Mechanus the first time. While Dar Alexis did inform the Council of some of what was down there, the Cathedral feels that having the opinion of more learned individuals who were also present would be for the benefit of the stability of the Church. 

Please inform me if you wish to accept the invitation at your earliest convenience via a Scry. I look forward to hearing from you.

Best wishes 

High Inquisitor Meredith Bloodvein.

P.S Please return the enclosed ring to Snotgrut. If he wants to keep tabs on me, he needs to do it the hard way!

Selene looked up at Edwin, torn between elation and trepidation,

"What do you think?" She asked, "On the one hand I'd love nothing more than to actually catch up with Ivan and meet this family of his. On the other…" she trailed off with an uncertain noise in her throat. Edwin nodded, running a hand over his beard,

"No, I can't say I'm very keen on being interrogated about the portal and the adjacent areas either." He admitted, "Still, the Council is aware of their existence, perhaps our perspectives will help settle matters regarding the implications for good." He suggested. "It might at least prevent another Firetome from taking advantage of any lingering uncertainties." He added. Selene sighed,

"I suppose." She murmured, "I'll see what extra information I can dig up about the planes and their relationship with each other. I can't answer anything about the theology, and I'm not about to try, but that… projection did look similar enough to diagrams I've seen elsewhere of the outer planes." 

"Let me guess, you're only in so you drag Ivan back here by the ear to pay off that bar tab aren't you?" Edwin chuckled. Selene threw up a hand in exasperation,

"If he hadn't gone sauntering off to bloody Mechanus instead of going to Fangthane then I wouldn't have to!" She snapped, "Orrock's been hanging that tab over my head for nearly a decade, I think Mr Moradin's Champion owes me that much." She ranted. Edwin nodded patiently, walked around the table, planted a kiss on Selene's cheek and teased the letter from her grasp,

"Alright, well why don't you return Snotgrut's ring to him along with the High Inquisitor's implied threats while I get that Scry sorted out." he said, "Then we can discuss what we can, or want to, tell the Fangthane Council about the portal rooms."

Selene rolled her eyes but shrugged,

"Alright, fine. I doubt Snotgrut will actually care very much about any threats Meredith wants to send him, but it'll give me something to do." She agreed. The wizard held out her hand, using a Mage Hand to grab her staff and cloak before Teleporting out of the kitchen with a puff of sulphurous smoke. Edwin huffed an annoyed sigh, waving the smoke out of his face,

"New house rule: no teleporting from the kitchen table." He muttered before gathering up the abandoned dishes and putting Selene's untouched breakfast in the pantry.

[dawnedon]

flashback :)

Send ‘Flashback’ to see one of my muse’s old memories | accepting

You awoke to the sound of beeping. You nearly forgot where you were, until you opened your eyes. Greeted by the same white walls and sterile smell, you finally gather your bearings after a fitful night of rest... if you could even call it that.

Today, it was also your twelfth birthday.

A deep ache settled in your chest where your healing wound lay beneath layers upon layers of bandages. You're not sure if the ache is from real, legitimate pain, or... something else. Your find yourself reaching for your phone, holding some silly hope in your heart of your mother reaching out. Of your mother finally coming to her senses, and realizing how serious you are as far as your goals go.

A region that you fought for, a region you died for and would do so again and again, with no hesitation. A region you wished to lead someday, as its Champion. Your mother's pride - her ego - was far too big for that. Perhaps that was where you got it from, too. There was the feeling of disappointment as you looked through your texts, unable to help yourself. Of course Barry had sent his birthday wishes to you at midnight on the dot, and Cynthia had sent hers earlier in the morning.

You set your phone aside, gently hugging your arms to yourself. There was a permeating emptiness you felt, bleeding out from your chest and consuming you whole. It'd been over two weeks since you'd been admitted to the hospital. Both you and Emperor had been rushed to emergency surgery after escaping the clutches of the Distortion World. The state of your partner had been far worse than yours, taking a brunt of the Aura Sphere that Giratina had unleashed.

There were updates on his condition, sometimes. He was stable and recovering, just as you were, but you hadn't been able to reunite with him yet. Cynthia did her best to visit you when she wasn't busy putting the pieces back together after Galactic's tear through Sinnoh. Some of the Gym Leaders made time to visit too - a beautiful bouquet from Gardenia rest on the table next to you, still vibrant and full of life, for now. They still had their own jobs and duties to uphold, however. You knew that, and you understood it. It was something you'd never hold against any of them.

Sometimes, you found yourself hoping your mother would walk through that door. It always came back around to her. Perhaps it was because your heart, and your mind, were still fragile after your dive into the Distortion World. Perhaps it was because, just once, you wanted to feel maternal love from the one person that should love you unconditionally. Any normal parent would be beside themselves if their child suffered as you had. What would your father think of this, you wonder? You blink hard, fighting away the tears you felt burning in your eyes.

And then, the door opens.

You move carefully to sit up, trying to look and act as if you weren't about to cry. There's a shred of hope in your heart, but the sight before you was one you hadn't expected.

"Emperor!" You all but gasp. The steadfast Empoleon was accompanied by one of the nurses, a large Blissey next to him to help support him. If it weren't for the various tubes and wires connecting you to an ungodly amount of machines, you would have leapt from the bed then and there to go to him.

"Good morning, Miss Hara, please pardon the intrusion." The nurse would greet with a small bow. "Emperor was very insistent on being up and about today - and we think he's at a good enough point in his recovery to be mobile again." The Blissey next to her nods along with the nurse's words. "He can't be out for too long, unfortunately, but... we thought it would be good to start small with regaining some of his mobility."

You feel your bottom lip wobbling, and a rising lump in your throat as the Empoleon slowly made his way to your side. "... Thank you," you manage to choke out, feeling that damnable emptiness in your chest finally fill, "this- means a lot to me. Thank you." You say, in earnest, dipping your head in a bow.

There's a warm smile on the nurse's face, an unfathomable amount of kindness held in her eyes. "Of course, Miss Hara. Please call us back whenever you're ready, and we'll get Emperor back to his room." The duo dip out of your room, closing the door quietly behind them.

You're quick to lift yourself from the bed, shaking lightly from the effort. "Emperor," you sob, tearful eyes looking over the bandages that covered his own chest (it was exactly the same as yours), "I'm glad you're okay- I...I'm sorry-"

You throw your arms around the Empoleon, large tears slipping off his hydrophobic feathers. The embrace was returned the best it could be, from a being that had flippers instead of hands and arms. Your starter, your partner, your best friend.... he was alive, and he was as okay as he could be. Maybe you didn't need your mother after all. You never had relied on her in the first place, through no choice of your own. Maybe, just maybe, the only thing you really needed was your team.

Finally, finally, if only for a little while, you felt whole again.

[hawthornsword]

Today on Bad Batch! (2x12):

Crosshair:

Audience:

I guess it's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder, because I was honestly prepared to completely dislike Crosshair and settle in to him being a villain, but then we have seen so little of him that I was getting antsy like, "Where is he?! What's he doing?! What's he thinking?! I need to know!" And then I squealed with delight when the episode started with him.

Nolan: exists

Me: Can we kill him?

Yay new named clone boys!!! (They are just resting safely. They are perfectly fine.) Mayday has a fuckin presence, no? (*swoons a little*) Maybe just a personal preference, but I am digging all the bearded boys. Yes. Good.

"no point carrying dead weight."

"remind me not to die on your watch."

*Crosshair realizing maybe this is why people don't like him and that maybe his batch were a lot more tolerant of his behavior than most and maybe he took that for granted, and he is desperately lonely and seeking connection and has finally realized that he is the one pushing everyone away. 😭😭😭

Oh hey, the huddling for warmth trope, that's usually used for like, romantic confession- Oh, my god I'm dying, my heart. The absolute tenderness. This may be the best huddling for warmth scene I've ever seen. Good job animators! I'm just -

Mayday protected Crosshair and treated him as a brother even though Crosshair was prickly, just like Cody did, and he's finally got it through his thick head that he doesn't belong with the empire, he belongs to the empire - he's just equipment to them - and that belonging with his brothers who actually care about him is worth so much more than than any false sense of grand purpose the empire might temporarily give him. Personal connection will always trump ideaogical bullshit.

And I suspect the thing about Crosshair is that once he commits to something, he's committed. That's it. Now that he knows the truth in his heart, nothing will stop him from acting on it. So he doesn't go subtle, like Cody slipping out in the night. He goes out guns blazing, killing that worthless empire motherfucker, because that's The Bad "when have we ever cared about orders? Batch Way.

That was so satisfying.

I am also glad we are going to pretty much immediately get back to whatever the heck is going on at Mount Tantis. Hemlock is creepy af, I love it. I really want to know what they plan to do to Crosshair tho???? They don't need him to make more clones, they're phasing them out, so what, clones are just convenient for shits-and-giggles experimentation? Like, they've got cloning down. And yeah, we know from Mandalorian/sequels Palps is trying to do Force sensitive cloning, but they don't need Crosshair for that, unless they've already got force sensitive dna and they're gonna shoot it into him to see what happens??? I somehow doubt that they'd risk a force sensitive supersoldier though, so I bet it's something else.

Predictions/wishlist for the rest of the season: I'm guessing Omega will get captured soon and then Crosshair will be like, "okay, let's bust out of this joint baby sis!" And Taun We will probably get killed helping them escape, then the Batch and Rex and Echo and Gregor will arrive, and I hope Omega (and Wrecker and Tech) will be like, "We can't leave the Zillow Beast! It's just a baby! The last of it's kind! Treated awfully just like us! (Big tooka eyes)" and Hunter will be like, "okay fine, we can rescue the beast." And Crosshair and Echo and Rex especially will be like, "wtf, force preserve us Hunter, you can't be serious right now - she makes big tooka eyes once and you do whatever she wants?!?!?! (Because Rex and Echo have experience denying Ahsoka's cuteness, so they have learned already that no good comes from indulging the chaos babies.) And then Omega and Crosshair befriend and get to ride the Zillow beast while it squashes all the imps as it escapes and then they find a nice uninhabited planet to drop it off, and the Batch is reunited and we get a happy ending of the season (and after credits hemlock escapes to be creepy again later, obv).

Meanwhile,

I still need to know where Cody is. Please.