#the 'you can stay' was meant to be about the castle but i like it more being vague

[girllblogging777]

hi congrats on 1k!! can i please request a cinnamon tinged tale with mattheo riddle with a scenario where they have a fight and go to bed seperate but they both can’t sleep without each other!!

𝑈𝑁𝑆𝑃𝑂𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝑀𝐼𝑆𝐸𝑆 ˚ ༘✶

↳ bf!mattheo riddle x reader (angst, fluff)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.5k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 :you and your boyfriend can’t sleep without eachother, but you had an argument

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

mattheo’s dorm was unnaturally quiet tonight. no whispers, no soft rustling of sheets, no stolen glances or quiet giggles. just silence, cold and deafening. he laid flat on his back, arms crossed behind his head, his jaw tense as he stared up at the dark ceiling of his room. the argument replaying in his mind on an endless, bitter loop.

he exhaled sharply through his nose. maybe he was an idiot like you had told him. scratch that. he definitely was. your words, heated and full of hurt, had ricocheted off the walls like a spell gone wrong. and instead of deflecting, instead of softening, he’d snapped back with the kind of sharpness he reserved for enemies. not for you. never for you.

but now you were gone. well, not gone-gone, but you weren’t here. you had stormed out of his dorm, muttering something about needing “space.” space. mattheo didn’t even know what to do with space.

his mind wandered to you. where were you now ? back in your own bed, curled up with that damn blanket you refused to replace no matter how many times he teased you about it? where you crying? did you hate him?

the ache in his chest tightened, like a hand gripping his heart. he turned to his side, punching the pillow beneath him in frustration. he needed you, your scent of cinnamon, your quiet murmurs before sleep, the way your hand would instinctively find his beneath the covers. without you, the room felt emptier than it had any right to.

across the castle, you sat cross-legged on your bed, staring out the window. the moon hung low, bathing the grounds in silver light, but your thoughts were anything but serene.

why had you said those things? you hadn’t meant to snap at him. it wasn’t his fault he was reckless, it was just who he was. you knew that, knew it better than anyone. but still, watching him flirt with danger, walking that fine line between thrill and disaster, it drove you insane. you cared too much to stay silent.

you sighed, hugging your knees to your chest. the bed felt too big, too cold without him. even on nights you two argued, you would always ended up tangled together, legs overlapping, breaths mingling. it was impossible to stay away from him and not to break the castle’s rules by sneaking into each other’s rooms past curfew. but tonight, you were alone.

minutes stretched into hours and you kept tossing and turning, thinking about him. at the same moment, mattheo swung his legs out of bed, running a hand through his messy curls. he didn’t care if he’d get caught. he didn’t care if you were still angry. he needed to see you.

suddenly, your bedroom door swung open and you turned around, eyes widening. “mattheo ?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. he stood there, unsure of what to say “i uh… i can’t sleep…”

“neither can i,” you admitted softly, watching him intently.

he stepped closer, his hand twitching at his sides. “i’m sorry, baby. i was a dick. you were just trying to look out for me and i lashed out, it wasn’t fair.”

your heart clenched at his honest words and you looked up at him, “i shouldn’t have pushed you, matt, i just worry about you too much. and sometimes, i feel like i care more about you than you do”

his brows furrowed and he finally reached out, his hand softly brushing against your cheek. “i do care. about me. about us. but i’m just… stupid sometimes.”

you couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh, leaning into his touch. “yup, you are.”

a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “does that mean i’m forgiven ?” you pretended to think a moment before answering, sighing. “only if you stay.”

and he didn’t need to be told twice.

moments later, you two were tangled together in your bed, your head resting on his chest as his fingered traced lazy, absentminded patterns on your back. neither of you spoke at first. the quiet felt sacred, too delicate to shatter. but mattheo couldn’t let it end there, not when he had so much to say.

“i don’t ever wanna go to bed mad at you again.” he murmured, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. his fingers stilled against your back, waiting for your response.

you tilted your head up, your chin resting on his chest as your eyes met his. “me neither,” you whispered back, “i hate how it feels, matt.”

he nodded, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin in the dark. “i know, love,” he admitted, “it feels wrong. everything feels wrong without you. i’m sorry i made you feel like i don’t care.” he paused for a second and you waited, silent.

“i care, baby. i care so much if scares the hell out of me sometimes.”

you could see it in his eyes, the way his walls had crumbled entirely for you and how painful that felt for him. mattheo riddle, who always unshakeably confident, was laying himself bare for you.

“i know,” you said in a steady voice. you reached up, your hand curling around his wrist. “but i’ll keep worrying about you, you know ? that’s not gonna change..”

he chuckled, the sound now and warm in the quiet room. “i figured, love. i don’t deserve you.”

“damn right you don’t,” you teased, your lips twitching into a genuine smile. then your voice softened “ but that doesn’t mean i’m going anywhere.”

the tension in mattheo’s body eased at your words, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you as to shield you from the world. you felt the way his lips brushed against the top of your head, a soft gesture that made your heart flutter.

“i love you,” he said quietly, the words slipping out as naturally as breathing.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as your heart pounded against your chest.

for the first time that night, the heavy weight between you lifted and the two of you stayed like that, your breaths syncing and limbs tangled in complete and utter peace. because no matter how messy you were, how much you clashed or stumbled, you always found your way back to eachother.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : tysm for this amazing idea ! tell me if you wanna be tagged and check out my 1k celebration for more !

@redeemingvillains @leona-hawthorne @shiftingwithmars @tateshifts @rose-of-the-grave @clar2aa @iris-qt @sp7-mr @deadghosy @deadsnakey @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithleah @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @yikesitslush @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf @reidol0gy @kenjikishimotoswifey @2dloveshp @hisparentsgallerryy @riddlesgrl

[moonlight-prose]

STRANGE ADDICTION

➻ 01. BEAUTIFUL DEATH

a/n: i have rewritten this chapter about two times just to get it right. i want it to feel like the show, but also i'm a perfectionist when it comes to posting in a new fandom. this story has been in my head since s1 dropped and well it feels great to finally put it somewhere. even if the love for silco has sorta died down. i've had the most fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

summary: dinner with an old friend leads to revelations about your past. about whether you chose the right path - the future meant for you. or if time indeed stands still beyond what science and magic tells you.

word count: 4.5k+

pairing: silco x f!reader; viktor x f!reader (platonic)

warnings: not explicit, angst, friendships, flashbacks, arguing, hesitation to tell the truth, pining (not by reader), the haunting of past relationships.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The sun beat down harder than ever before. A bright scorching ball of light that seemed intent on searing through the fabric of your gown. Although you weren't entirely opposed, given the weight of the material that clung to your skin.

It seemed that the sun favored topside more than anywhere else. You'd known this for a while, your eyes fixed on the horizon at each turning of the clock. Dusk assumed its duties for the day, bringing forth the moon that hid until the time was right to reveal herself. Flames licked across the sky and suddenly you were a child again. Stunned by the magnificence and beauty of something so normal.

When you were younger you held the belief that only those in the grand city would be able to witness this. To watch as sunset broke along brilliant blue before sinking below—away from the towers of the grand house.

Although the term house felt humble and dishonest given the lavish setting. Castle seemed like a better word. Or kingdom.

Piltover. The land of progress.

How ironic that just below the surface lay the vastness of a city that thrived on the opposite. You felt like royalty amidst the opulence around you. Someone who was crowned long ago by the people who deemed you worthy enough. Yet it wasn't that long ago that you were a young kid vying for a glimpse at a clear sky. Topside rarely accepted those that didn't belong; unsurprising but still a bitter disappointment.

How you managed to trick them—fool their wits—into allowing you access escaped you.

This felt too extravagant. So unlike the person you once knew. It felt fictional. A tale as old as time now finally bestowed upon someone like you.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, eyes wide at the brilliant orange that painted itself over pinks and yellows.

A voice echoed in the distance, someone calling your name, and with a sigh you were pulled away from the ambience of this view. You preferred a chance to stay here but you recognized the lilt of his voice, the familiar drawl of his words. With a sigh you let go of the balcony railing and turned towards the room you were staying in. His room. He offered and gave no room for an argument.

That didn't stop you from trying.

"Dinner is being planned," he announced, balancing his weight on the cane held in his tight grip.

"All this trouble isn't necessary." Pulling the chair by his bed close, you took the opposite one with a grin. "I'm not that important."

He huffed, long and loud enough to keep you quiet. "I don't see you often enough. Dinner is the least I can do."

"Viktor–" His hand went up before you could state your case—the argument ready to fly off the tip of your tongue.

"I've argued with you enough over the years to know when you will start." His smile is warm, an old piece of the past that still resides in the back of your mind.

"I call that an unfair advantage," you muttered.

"I would call it strategy."

"Strategy requires the mind of a politician," you joked. The words rolled out of your mouth with ease as you scrutinized the man before you.

He shrugged. "I've got politician friends."

"Right."

Over the years you often wondered where your paths might cross again. Where on the timeline of your lives Viktor would once more become your ally. You both found one another in your younger years—when things were simpler. The time in your life where you were starting to be recognized for your mind and him with his mind.

Two intellectuals forged in the fires of the Undercity. At one point in your life this might have felt humorous. Almost ironic.

Now you tried to grasp at what kept the two of you together. Especially since your step back away from the atmosphere of progress.

"I–"

"While you are here, would you mind—uh—looking over the research I have accumulated over the years of your absence?" The notebook he draws from the table beside him is crammed with scraps of paper. The binding was ready to burst at the seams. A sight that so utterly and undeniably the young man you met in the Undercity. "I trust your intelligence more than mine sometimes."

You could recall the hours spent pouring over books, each one filled with information you never thought you'd have the opportunity to learn. They brought the both of you closer to something that he felt would do the world some good. Knowledge was power in Piltover—you simply learned to utilize it for your own good. As a way to escape the past you tried your best to ignore.

Flipping to the first bookmarked page, you attempted to discern his writing. At times it was illegible, but you knew it better than yours. After years of looking at the same scratch marks and symbols, you were able to pick through Viktor's work with ease. Your heart stuttered at the research before you—the truth that rang silently in his hopeful expression.

"You want to find a power source?" you exclaimed, glancing up to see his eyes grow apprehensive.

Of course he would be wary about this. Every line scribbled, each night of hard work, all amounted to his life's legacy. The weight of his name was placed on loose pages and ink that bled between the compact journal. Running your finger over the foreign symbols etched onto each page and margin, you felt their power—the meaning behind each mark made.

"Viktor it's..." You wanted to call this emotion pride but the word felt minuscule given how much effort had been put into this. "Magnificent."

He grinned, settling back with a sigh of relief. "My partner Jayce—who you will meet tonight—has made a remarkable discovery."

"Remarkable is putting it lightly," you cut in, absentmindedly following the curve of the largest rune on the page, marking it in your memory.

Ducking his head, you watched his hands clasp together tightly, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of his wrist. "I have to do something...that will help."

That much you could understand.

"Ever since I've known you–" Shifting, you felt the skirt of your gown tug upwards—your leg exposed to the slight chill in the evening air. "You wanted to be remembered as a great scientist. Someone whose mind would be their legacy. I think you're closer to that than you think."

He scoffed. "I only told you that to stop the questions."

"About where you came from? Or something else."

The silence gave you enough of an answer. Explanations of his past came with little to no details. Merely stories that were fleeting, sinking beneath the depths long before you got a chance to figure them out entirely. He remained a mystery to you even now. Although...you couldn't say you were any different.

"Did you ever want that for yourself?" He leaned closer, his gaze attempting to pry beneath the depths of your mind.

"No," you breathed, catching one last glance at the sky. "It has always been better for my name to die with me."

"That I don't believe."

"No?" His eyes burned into the side of your face. A silent plea to finally let him in on the secret. To spill about the past you couldn't even accept for yourself.

Even as the years passed quicker than you could comprehend, Viktor never changed. Despite his age now surfacing across his face, he still felt familiar with each new slight wrinkle and faint mark that hadn't been there before. Beneath the fancy clothing and grim expression, he was still the boy you once knew. The ravenous scientist with a hunger to know more.

A man on a never ending journey for knowledge.

"You're brilliant," he said. "You always have been. I never quite understood why you chose to only be a..."

"A healer?" He nodded. "I didn't fit into Topside as smoothly as you did."

Whether he wished to admit it or not, the turmoil that tore through his body and mind was there. Hiding beneath the surface. Even as he refused to meet your gaze. Time may have intertwined you with him, but his dreams remained different—his hopes were vast enough to drag him away from the life you once knew.

Where he found the grandeur of a scientist working for someone brilliant, you found solace in your small shop surrounded with various concoctions and potions. A space that let you be the person you were always meant to be.

"You're talented enough to make a name for yourself. If you let me talk to the counsel–"

"No." The word sliced the air swiftly, silencing him with the sharp end of a whip.

He froze, drawing you out of the stupor your mind hastened to put you in. Upsetting him was the last thing you wanted, but you knew if he didn't stop now things would already be too late. Viktor had a tendency to escalate matters far more than necessary. It's why you were hesitant to even take his call—to give him leeway back into your life like this.

"Why?" he asked, his brows furrowed and eyes piercing through to the depths of your mind.

The answer lay at the back of your tongue—clear and ready to be pronounced with ease. But saying them out loud felt like a feat you'd never be able to manage.

"There are things in my past that are better left where they are," you replied, brushing off the way he looked at you.

A puzzle yet to be figured out. A math problem that held a solution to fix all that was broken.

But that was the thing...you couldn't be fixed. There remained no potion, no herbal remedy that could heal what had torn you to shreds. Who shattered you beyond repair.

Viktor left to pursue his Topside dreams—his pride in himself larger than anything you'd seen. Yet you remained behind. You stayed in the darkness of the Undercity with the promise to one day find him—to celebrate your dreams together. But that was before the battle plans, before you were recruited to help heal those that couldn't heal themselves. Before...him.

When it came down to it, you found yourself in a life far different from the one you dared to imagine with Viktor. The intention to follow him still existed somewhere as a fading dream that might never come true. But once you grew up, saw the world for how it was, you understood why you would never receive the same welcome he did.

You were a soldier first above it all and that was the one thing he would never know.

The secret you held in the confines of your heart.

"My past is the same as yours," he said. "We come from the same land. Surely if they accepted me, they will do the same for you."

You didn't fall in love with the devil.

The words that would never see the sunlight of Topside.

Reaching forward, you pat his knee in a gesture that offered a friendship despite all the secrets. Viktor would do what he wished; you couldn't stop him. That had always been the way of things since you were younger and so it would remain.

Merely two people who once offered to save one another from the bleak aspect of a future ready to eat you alive. Yet now there you were as adults. Sitting close enough to be friends yet miles a part from where you originally started.

You snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to him with a reluctant smile. The distaste of keeping him in the dark was pungent in your mouth, but this choice wasn't up to you to decide. It was always a mutual agreement between two people that were forced to be parted. He wouldn't speak about what happened and you'd do the same.

You were always meant to become a ghost of the Undercity and he a ghost of Topside.

Two fates that were never to intertwine again.

"Tell me," you said, moving to the still open balcony doors. "What's your partner Jayce like?"

He straightened in the chair, relief crossing his face at the realization that he hadn't offended you by pushing too far.

"You will like him."

"Oh I don't know about that," you drawled, a sly smile crossing your lips. "Don't you recall the night of the dinner party?"

He cringed as the memory of that disastrous debacle came to mind. You got into it with a certain doctor he befriended—a man with an ego large enough to choke the very air out of any room. The night ended with you unceremoniously chucking your drink into the man's face to save yourself the harsh act of slapping him. You refused to see Viktor for weeks—your own self worth having been burnt to the ground and defiled.

"I did not know he was going to insult you the way he had."

Scoffing, you leaned your back against the balcony railing. "You knew he wasn't good."

"Unfortunately that I did know." He stood on shaky legs, the clack of his cane against marble echoing off the walls as he joined you. "I can promise that Jayce is nothing like that."

"I'll determine that for myself." You sighed, glancing up at a darkened sky—the stars shimmering bright enough to rival the moon. "Besides, dinner is just us, right? Not a surprise interview to induct me into your hall of science. Because as flattered as I am–"

His laughter spilled over into your chest as he nudged your shoulder with his. "There will be no inducting. Not if you don't wish for it."

"Good." The clock across the room ticked away with expedited force—as if speeding up the flow of time to get you out of here. Yet you found yourself longing to stay, to remain in this small bubble. "Does he know who I am?"

"He knows what I've told him."

"All good I hope," you humored him, offering a placating smile that could be mistaken for charm. In the hopes that you'd make it through this night unscathed.

"There may have been a few stories." Swatting his shoulder, you ignored the shift he made towards you. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." You clutched the railing behind you until your knuckles hurt, your gut filled with the foreboding dread that came with treading the waters of your past. "I'm perfectly okay," you replied confidently.

Even if the words rang with the transparency of a lie.

Piltover at night held no comparison after witnessing the beauty of sunset. Yet after three glasses of wine and a dinner large enough to feed the village, you felt the thrill of excitement fill your chest at the thought of exploring parts you'd yet to see. Looping your arm around Viktor's you fell into step beside him—mere feet behind Jayce and a woman they introduced as Mel.

Of course, you knew who she was. Everyone in the city knew her name, but for the sake of a peaceful dinner void of any politics, you didn't make that fact obvious.

"It was a nice dinner," you said, the breeze off the water skimming the bare skin of your back.

"We should do it again." His voice remained steady, like a piece of home you never thought you'd get back. His eyes however...screamed something entirely different.

A divot in the road you weren't prepared for—one you didn't see yourself wanting.

"We should," you agreed, finding a spot against the railing. The blue of the ocean gleamed beneath the light of the moon. Truly Piltover at its finest. "Maybe next month?"

The irritated sigh slipped past his lips before he could reign it in, but that was all you needed to understand his intentions. You'd been afraid of this since you came to visit him the very first time. An execrable feeling weighed heavy in your stomach as time went on and his silence prevailed.

He stood beside you now with hope in his heart. The voices of Jayce and Mel faded into the background as they walked further away. And you were left with the friend you never wished to lose—the boy you longed to keep knowing.

"I haven't said—I should have said it already but–"

"Viktor," you interrupted, standing upright.

Suddenly the wine and the excessive amount of food didn't sound like a good idea after all. Your heart pounded against your chest, reverberating through your entire body—each nerve alight and waiting for the worst possible scenario to this outcome. He'd been your oldest friend, someone you counted on when you had no one else and the thought of ruining that left you feeling sick.

Each second he looked at you as if you held all the answers to what he pined for made your heart twist painfully.

With a shaky breath, you finally relented to the truth. "I can't."

"What do you mean?" His cheeks flushed vermilion as he fixed his gaze back to the water.

Shutting your eyes to collect your thoughts carefully, you sighed. "I know what you want me—us—to be and I can't...give that to you."

"Oh."

"I do care for you." Somehow the words echoed with hollow deceit, despite how true they felt in your heart.

"It's because of him."

You reared back, startled. "What?"

His eyes—plagued with sorrow deep enough to slice right through you—met yours waiting for a different answer. An explanation as to where your heart belonged. But you stood as still as stone—unable to form thoughts let alone coherent words. He ripped right down to the bone, pulled at your weak tendons and bit down on frayed nerves.

Yet he wasn't done.

"I'm not oblivious. When you finally came to Piltover you wouldn't tell me about what you did when I wasn't there. I only assumed you had feelings for someone. A man you didn't wish to speak about."

You exhaled slowly—the icy chill of relief swallowing you whole. "Oh...yes I...there was someone."

"Do you still love him?"

Glancing across the water, you glimpsed the bridge standing tall—a beacon of this city's hope for progress. But to your eyes it felt like a separation—a division between the two worlds of your life. One filled with enough pain to leave you staggering where you stool and other...a world of grandeur that overflowed with the option of peace.

At one point you had wanted to watch it burn. His betrayal tainted everything good about that place. A scar carved deep enough to leave an everlasting wound that never healed. You longed to forget it—to rid yourself of the memories he plagued—but you still knew one day...you'd stand upon that same ground again.

"I don't know," you breathed, the past clawing its way up your throat—shoving towards the very front of your mind.

BEFORE

The streets were overrun with people as they moved and flowed like the waves on a shore. You felt shoulders knock into you, exasperated glances thrown your way as you fumbled with the plants still gripped in your hands. They grew at the edge of the bridge—hidden in the shadows as a safeguard from the sun. Dirt packed itself beneath your fingernails, mud coating the thin fabric of your pants from where you dug.

"You should really have that looked at," you grumbled, shoving the plant into your satchel.

Garnering no response, you were left to get lost in your own thoughts. Whether or not he was actually in pain didn't concern you. Not when you had a job given by Vander who insisted you focus solely on healing rather than fighting. It's not as if you entirely disagreed with him—you were more than happy being a healer rather than a soldier—you simply couldn't figure how this would help in the long run.

What exactly were you supposed to do when people acted stubborn and brash?

"What are you writing?" he barked, stopping abruptly. You rammed into him with a sneer.

"Nothing that's of any concern to you." Shoving your pen and notebook into the bag, you watched as he huffed in response, turning away. "I'll tell you again since you seem to be hard of hearing. You should really have your wound–" He stopped, eyes flashing over his shoulder with a glare. “–looked at."

"You sure do talk a lot," he snipped.

"It's a gesture of kindness. You don't have to be an ass about it."

How did you manage to get stuck with this man? You were more than capable of sneaking around the border of Topside without anyone's help. Vander assigning you an escort seemed synonymous with the actions of an older brother being overly protective. Yet you weren't related in any way shape or form—you were simply someone who understood the need for change.

Arguing would get you nowhere and so you did your best to ignore his quick glances. Coming up with a correct judgment for what you found took precedence over the man in front of you.

The heat of the day seeped into your clothes—sticking to your exposed skin—the longer you trekked back. If it were possible to steal some time, you'd search for that small pool you and Viktor used to play at—just to submerge yourself in cold water. But with a guard at your side, you were left with only one option. Dreaming about weather cooler than this.

"You're walking too slow," he called over his shoulder.

The desperation for escape called to you, begged you to leave him behind and go somewhere quiet. But before you could sprint in the opposite direction, he turned. Ignoring him didn't seem to be a well thought out solution, but that never stopped you from trying. Even as he glared at you.

What little sunlight remained began to dip below the horizon—a sight you'd neve grow tired of. If only you had the chance to see it over the ocean with a clear sky above.

"You need that fixed before we return." Avoiding the incensed glare directed your way, you settled on the edge of a wall.

"What I need is for you to keep going. So I can go home."

"Listen—whoever you are—I know that when you return you're going to be questioned about why you're in pain. Either you let me patch up that wound or you get Vander. Your pick."

The arguing ceased with a defiant raise of your brows, lips curling into a sly grin that pinned him where he stood. There really was no other option than submission. What was a quick check before you were on your merry way. Much to your delight, he seemed to come to the same conclusion as he joined you on the wall, undoing his vest with an indignant sigh.

Silence filled the empty space between you. Slipping between the cracks and shadows that cast across his angular face. You'd seen him before on the edge of your vision, leaning against the bar with a book in his face—long fingers trailing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you differed.

Where you wanted to roam, he longed to be back making plans with Vander instead of trapped in the task of guard duty for a healer he'd never met before.

"Who shot you?" The glow of sunset illuminated the pale skin beneath his shirt—a long jagged scar etched into the skin threw you off for a moment as your fingers searched for blood.

The sharp wince in his face said you'd found it. "I couldn't see their face."

Nodding, you moved his hand to keep the fabric up and out of the way. A quick rummage in your bag for the salve you made earlier caught his attention—turquoise gleamed in your peripheral, prying you open with enough ease to jar you down to the bone.

"The bullet only scraped you. This should help close it up by the end of the week." You pressed the dark mixture along his wound, catching the subtle flinch he tried to smother. "Sorry."

"I'm fine," he mumbled in a whispered tone.

"I can fix it up properly when we return. Get you a real bandage to keep it from getting worse."

You nearly missed it. That slow imperceptible grin that curled at the edge of his lips. But your eyes latched onto it like a kid with candy, savoring the quick glimpse of something surreal. It threw you off balance, forced you to reckon with the thought of never knowing him before today.

Ethereal. Empyrean.

He sat before you a stranger with the eyes of a fond ally. A friend you had yet to be properly introduced to. It seemed he harbored the same thought—his mouth forming the question as if it fell right out of your head and into his lap.

"You're a friend of Vander?" Slipping his vest back on, you noticed he left it unbuttoned.

You found you preferred it that way.

"So are you. I've seen you...uh...with him. Around the bar you know."

The quiet echo of the water lapping at rocks and voices in the distance didn't feel bitter, but rather settled the nerves leaping beneath your skin. It was nice to sit there and watch the night sky show itself to the world once again. Eventually you'd be forced to return to a life that teemed with a clear understanding that hung over everyone's heads. There would be a fight. An inevitable battle for what you believed was right.

But for this transcendent moment you basked in the few moments of peace life allotted you.

The calm before the storm.

"I don't know your name," you admitted, turning your head slightly to catch his gaze already faced in your direction. "Vander never told me."

If he caught you in the middle of a blatant lie, he didn't call you on it. You could tell he saw right through you—the glint in his eyes shining brighter than moments before. This wasn't a clarification for Vander's sake or the battle. You wanted to know his name for yourself. A small token of the man you may never interact with again save for tonight.

After a moment his voice came with a soft breath of air. "Silco."

Teeth dug into your lip to keep the blooming smile at bay. "Silco," you said under your breath.

He latched onto it, dug his fingers into the tangible feeling they created in his chest, and felt a smile pulling wider at his own mouth. You said it again, unable to stop yourself as a thrill of excitement fluttered at the base of your stomach. So simple, so smooth off the tip of your tongue. Yet filled with enough power to stir your chest with a feeling you wished to inspect further.

The lilt of it hung in the air as you turned back to the sky with a satisfied hum, relishing in the time you had left with him at your side.

[notasapleasure]

op kindly only screenshotted the tags where it looks like I'm saying because the castles were not designed and built by the welsh (a reasonable interpretation of what the original post said) I don't think the welsh should get a say, even though I go on to mention that I don't think any money from them *should* be going to the parasites in westminster! But hey it's much easier, as I was inferring about nationalist takes like this on tumblr, to make me a colonialist boogie man.

In any case, the deeper thing bugging me that I didn't have the confidence to articulate (*signs tumblr death sentence in triplicate* haha silly me instead thinking it was fair to point out that op made it seem like these buildings, icons of welsh repression, were rather built by the welsh for the welsh) was that I don't know what money you think is going to the crown from this! The famously cash-loaded heritage industry, ah yes, they will surely solve all our financial problems if only we didn't have to send their vast profits to the stinking pigs in crowns...

They are doing their best to keep the buildings up. Guess what? English Heritage also manages stuff owned by the crown. Guess what? In England their public services are also fucked by nearly fifteen fucking years of tory austerity. It's not because of the castles. I'm delighted that visitor numbers are going up for Cadw and I have been to many of the sites they manage and frankly they do a better job than many of the sites in Scotland and England I've been to. I simply do not know where the idea comes from that they're rolling in profits that are being sent abroad to the crown?? If the crown owns these properties still I just rather think your petition should be aiming to bleed the fucking royals dry and make then pay for their upkeep!

Also I still think claiming the Welsh built the castles is absurd. You don't have to have built them to justify them being in Cadw's hands. That is the heart of what annoys me here I think: not the nationalist sentiment but the unnecessary distortion so many nationalist arguments indulge in, which undermines their arguments rather than supporting them, from my perspective (having already said in tags elsewhere that I am agnostic on devolution: it is a decision for the welsh to make not me. If you want my answer about a border poll in NI where I live then you'll have to prove you can be serious about things like pensions and health care provision before we talk about the effects of a snap poll and which way I would vote depending on the wording and the offers made).

MUCH more interesting and alarming from my pov is the money you're paying to the crown for the use of the seabed under your wind farms. If Chuckie boy believes so strongly in green energy why doesn't he do all he can to support the green sector in Wales and waive costs, or even maybe give Wales its own seabed back?

I am absolutely disgusted to learn that crown owns our castles and the profits are sent to Westminster. Wales is struggling, our economy is struggling, our people are struggling, our health services are struggling, and that money could go to the betterment of our lives - instead it goes to England.

despite the fact we maintain the castles and land, we don't own them. they are in OUR country. ownership should belong to us, the people who built them. we maintain them. we work in them. theyre ours and we should be able to use the profits generated by them to help welsh people, not allow the money be funnelled into the monarchy.

the fact the crown owns so much of wales is such an outdated and medieval concept and has no place in modern society.

petition here:

please sign. I am disgusted.

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? PT 1

All I could do was stare at my reflection. This had to be a joke. I was going to wake up in my bed, right this instant.

“FUCK!”

Ok, so, pinching myself hurts. That’s fine. This is like. Some sort of lucid dream. What do they say to do if you’re lucid dreaming? Oh, that’s right, put your finger in your palm, it’ll phase through!

I resist the urge to scream as my finger meets solid flesh.

You see, I’m not in the right body. Or the right world from what I can tell. No, I’m supposed to be back home, waking up in a panic as I realize my alarm didn’t go off cuz my phone died after I stayed up way too late reading manga.

But of course, I’m not late to work, I’m in a lavish bedchamber right out of the latest webcomic I’d been reading! And by the looks of it…. I’m the crown princes crazy fiancé! As much as I love reading about the Isekai trope, I never wanted to be in one! And come on- as the Yandere Villain!? Couldn’t this at least be original? There’s hundred of stories just like “my next life as a villainess,” why couldn’t I be like… a stable hand or something? Ugh. Ok. Think!

I need to get home. Do the protagonists ever get back home in the stories I read? I pace around my room and rack my brain over every webcomic I’ve ever read, every manga I waited in line for, every anime I binged, even the unfinished manhwas! I can’t think of a single fucking one where they get home?

Well this isn’t going to stop me. I have a cat who’s going to absolutely flip if she’s not given fresh kibble in the morning. She has enough in her bowl for another 2 days but she needs it topped off ok! She’s a princess! I can’t be stuck here! Who’s going to throw her pompom toy for her if I’m not there???

What did all these have in common? What’s the barebones trope layout? Ok let’s see

1) person either died or falls asleep and wakes up in a new world…. Check

2) person is the villain!…. Check

3) to avoid the characters terrible death, person tries to change the story, ends up being new protagonist…

Ohhh… hey…. Do these Isekai characters ever just…. Play along? Even the “reincarnated as a baby” ones, they only play along till they’re old enough to try to run away or rework the political structure of the entire city. Maybe that’s it. Make it to the books natural end, and you’ll wake up where you belong. It’s like when you get part of a song stuck in your head. Play the whole song, and it’ll get out.

Ok, I’ve trained most of my adult life for this- I can totally ace this trope! I just have to stalk the crown prince, act totally in love with him, and be a bitch to the female lead. Then my finance will leave me, I’ll do some crazy dramatic act to try to kill the female lead, and then I’ll be exiled or executed, and wake up to feed my cat. How hard can it be?

Hard. It’s very hard.

Where the hell did he go!? My fiancé, the crown prince Eric, was JUST HERE. I swear! He turned that corner back there and then went down this hall… at least I think it was this hall? Ugh! This is impossible! For someone with such loud shoes and an armed escort, you’d think he’d be easier to follow! Now my feet just hurt. They don’t make these fancy shoes to run around the castle all day. They’re meant to daintily peek from beneath my many skirts as I host a tea party or some shit.

Ok. I’ve got this! I’ll just peek into each room until I find him, maybe I can get a better feel for the layout, or maybe find his office and see if he has a schedule or a day planner or something I can use to make this whole stalking thing easier.

I begin snooping, and it’s a bit of thrill to be honest! Back in my real life, I’m the kind of person to hide a wrapper deep in the trash can if I’m babysitting, sitting on the floor playing a game on my phone after the kid goes to bed rather than “making myself at home” the way the parents insisted as they showed me how to access Netflix. I’ve never been a snooper. Now…. Well. It’s totally on brand for this character! I’m not me, I’m a psycho lovesick fool! I giggle a bit at that as my fingers trail over a shelf of beautiful pottery in some sort of sitting room.

“What’s so amusing dearest?”

I practically screech as my heart leaps to my throat and I whirl around, and see the very person I’d been searching for has snuck up on ME…. That’s so unfair!

“W-what? O-oh! Nothing! I was just- uh, admiring the pottery?”

I stutter out as I try to recall how to act like a human being while simultaneously trying to stop feeling my own pulse in my ears. The idiot has the nerve to LAUGH! Full on snort and everything!

“What are you doing in this wing anyways? Weren’t you meant to be out riding today?”

Shit. I was so busy trying to figure out his schedule, I didn’t consider maybe the body I was shoved into had a schedule of her own. Ok. Play it cool- I’ve got this!

“Yes, well, I decided I wasn’t in the mood and wanted to stay in today instead.”

His brows furrow

“Oh, but you love riding? Are you feeling ill? I can fetch the royal physician for you if you-“

“No! That’s- that’s quite alright! I simply wanted a change of schedule, that is all. Um… what about you? What are your plans for the day?”

He looked a bit surprised at that, and a small smile danced on his lips.

“I was just going to the library to do some paperwork, boring stuff really, and then of course our dinner at its regular time.”

I nod like that means anything to me. Ok think, if I were crazy in love with this man, what would I say?

“Would you like some company? Reading in the library sounds really nice, maybe we could have some tea as well?”

Ok. I’m already fucking this up. He looks confused…. God damnit …. I knew I shouldn’t have skimmed over those early chapters- but the translation was shit ok!?

“Well… I’d actually love that. But are you sure? You haven’t exactly shown interest in reading, and you’ve never requested something like this before…. In fact I don’t think I can recall the last time we’ve interacted outside of dinner or a scheduled social event in… well. Ever.”

Wait…. What? Isn’t my character like goo-goo-ga-ga over him? Are you telling me she never asks to just… spend time with her lover? They only talk during dinner and parties or whatever?

“Of course, I think it’ll be relaxing! Just lead the way!”

My brain is working overtime as I smile politely at him as we reach the library and I pretend to browse for books. I’m missing something here. What is-

Oh. Shit. That’s right. I’m supposed to be really insecure and awkward about him. That’s why she stalks him- she spends all her free time obsessing over this man from the shadows, threatening the competition…. Yet chokes up when it comes to how to act natural. Her inferiority complex is what drives her entire character. And then to him, they’re just two nobles in an arranged marriage who speak on dull subjects like the weather and horse rides…. And who barely interact.

This must have been a real big shake up, she always stays out of sight, they never run into each other by chance. And she certainly never would ask to sit and read with him…. Maybe watch him do his work from a hidden keyhole somewhere, but that’s right…. She IS more of a traditional lady with her hobbies. She was raised to be the perfect noble wife, so naturally, her hobbies include things like dancing, needlepoint, and horse riding. The only studies she’s interested in are etiquette and things that noble ladies are supposed to know.

Well…. Shit. That’s so like me to already have fucked this up. But that’s ok. That’s ok- he’s going to meet the female lead and fall in love and so I just have to be the obstacle they need to overcome. Surely the details don’t matter too much…. It’s my first day in the job ok? Not everyone’s perfect!

I find a book that honestly actually sounds interesting, it’s historical, but it’s giving Hellen of Troy, the closest to a dark romance I think I’ll get from an academic personal library like this. I settle into what looks like the comfiest chair in the central area, and begin reading. The prince and I exist comfortably, the only sound being the scratch of his pen, and the occasional rustle of paper as he flips a document or I finish a page. We continue like this for several hours until he puts down his pen and clears his throat, getting my attention.

“I know it’s a long way from dinner…. But I was thinking I’d grab something light for a mid day meal and then take a walk about the gardens …. Would you care to join me?”

Honestly, some lunch and pretty royal gardens sounds like so much fun, so I agree. As we begin walking, I ponder how I can recover from all this.

You know what.. this can totally still go to plan. This is just me being the evil villain and sinking my claws into him! The female lead will appear, and I’ll reveal my true, nasty side to her! She’ll have to fight to save the prince from his marriage to me!

*insert evil laughter!*

“You’re smiling.”

“W-what?”

“A smile. It suits you. You’ve been doing that a lot today….. I like it.”

Ok and now I’m blushing. I go to reply when I suddenly find myself weightless for a moment, and then hit the ground with a hard thump.

“Ow! What the-!?”

My eyes snap up and glare at this pretty blonde girl who just rammed into me, and sent me flying

“Do you not know how to watch where you’re going!? Owww…. Ugh.”

Ok I’m sorry I’m usually a nice and understanding person but I’ve never been literally knocked over before! Who does that to a person?

Eric helps me to my feet and sends a reproachful glare toward the girl, asking me if I’m alright with most concerned look…. And the girl gasps and says,

“C-crown prince Eric! I apologize! I’d didn’t recognize you!”

She drops into a curtsy and lowers her eyes all demure and modest as if she hadn’t just bulldozed me. I send an incredulous look toward Eric…. She… didn’t see HIM? I’m the one she took out? He gives me an equally puzzled look and so I decide, you know what, fuck it. I’m this evil person in this world…. I need to act like it!

“And not recognizing his highness is an excuse for taking out the princess consort, soon to be crown princess? Are you blind or just daft?”

Oh my god I really just called someone daft! This feels like when you stay up late thinking all the witty comebacks you could’ve used against your high school bullies, except actually using them in the moment!

And Eric is being a sweetie and letting me handle this, waiting expectantly for blondie to answer me, just prompting her,

“Well?”

“Forgive me…. Princess consort…. You are right. My oversight in inexcusable. It appears neither of us were looking where we were going. I hope we can start fresh!”

I scoff- that’s it? Who does this bitch think she is? Yes, I was looking at Eric, but I was going a walking pace, who rounds a corner with so much force that you knock someone over?

Suddenly something clicks- oh shit! This is the female lead!!!! This scene happened in the story, just without the prince here. This is good, that means this is on track. Although I gotta say- I was much more on the female main characters side when reading it. Now, I just feel like she’s one of those mean girls in high school who’s not *technically* doing anything mean. Anyways- what was I supposed to say? That’s right.

“Yes…. Well. I’m sure we won’t be seeing much of each other anyways. If you’ll excuse me-“

Nailed ittttt…. Now her line?

“Well, actually…. My name is Lady Cressida, and I’ll be staying in the place for several months as my father is a foreign ambassador overseeing trade agreements with his highness the king. So I imagine we will be seeing *plenty* of each other. That goes for you too your highness! So please- forgive me, I look forward to getting to know each of you better!”

Oh that’s so cool, seeing her recite the lines from the story. But ok- I have a role to play as well. I scoff and grab Eric’s arm, pulling him behind me as I storm off, playing the part of entitled lover, stuck up and irritated at this ambassadors daughter who DARED to speak to my love.

Yea, this will work, Eric will think Cressida is a genuine sweetie, and see me as being the unreasonable bitch who’s refusing to accept her apology, or apologize for not looking where I was going either. And now I’m manhandling him- totally unlady like. God I’m killing this aren’t I? Minimum wage job and demanding cat, here I come!

What I don’t see, as I lead Eric by the arm, is the cold glare he shoots towards Cressida, before smiling down at our connected hands, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Part 2

[hotwritergf]

Boyfriend!Eddie finds your porn history. Eddie Munson x female reader. Smut. Blurb🍆

Word count- 1.2k

🍆 “Hey baby.. umm I don’t wanna embarrass you..”Eddie was sprawled across the couch, his limbs representing an octopus whilst his curls fell down the arm of the couch. You had let him borrow your laptop, Dustin had split soda over Eddie’s during their latest dnd campaign. He smiles as he notices your wall-paper is a picture of the pair of you, that trip to the forest was one of your favourites.

“Huh?” You spoke, confusion filling the air. You were easily embarrassed so just the thought of being embarrassed made your face flush. “It’s just, I lost my page I was working on so- so I went on the history page to find it again. But I didn’t just find my campaign document, I saw your umm history. Baby I, I don’t want you to be embarrassed I mean we all do it right?” Your face burns under his words, you know exactly what he’s stumbled across.

“Seriously doll, your choices here.. My innocent little girl, isn’t so innocent huh?”He smirks, eyes gazing over your flushed face. You feel stuck to the floor, like any moment now the ground is going to open up and swallow you whole. “Eddie-“ You finally manage to muster up the courage to speak, your words causing your stomach to churn in shyness. “It’s okay. It’s all okay princess. I’m impressed, I mean let’s see here. ‘Blonde babe worships her step-father’s sweaty balls’ Well that’s filthy isn’t it? ‘Anal training’ Oh? You want me to take that other little hole for a test drive? ‘Double penetration mmf threesome.’ Sweet girl I had no idea you could be so kinky! Look at this here. ‘Submissive girl has play time with Daddy.’ Is that me? I’m your daddy?” He teases, his smirk practically audible in his voice as he teases. Your embarrassed self can’t handle much more. He was never meant to see this, these searches they were just late night curiosity. Late night self pleasure when Eddie couldn’t be there with you.

You nod, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Your hands need to be doing something as the anxiety reaches your throat. You swallow it down and gulp in nervousness as Eddie walks towards you. He takes his hand and caresses your face softly. His touch both exhilarating and comforting under the current circumstances. “You weren’t meant to see that.” You swallow the saliva collected in your mouth. “It’s just… porn. For when you’re not here and I- well you know the rest.” You speak so quietly that you could hear a pin drop in the room, the atmosphere was tense but he couldn’t seem more relaxed. Eddie’s smile beams, under the knowledge they were really your searches and you didn’t try and lie your way out of it.

“And are those the sorts of desires my princess has been having on those oh-so-lonely nights where she’s banished to stay in her castle?” He speaks in his dungeon master voice, running his index finger down your throat, smirking as he watches your throat gulp and the goosebumps appearing down your neck and arms. Your feet feel superglued to the floor, stuck in confrontation you can do nothing but stare at the carpet, looking your boyfriend in the eye seems alien in this moment.

“Yes. But don’t think you have to indulge me! If you’re not comfortable we never have to do any of that. I’ll never force you Eds.” You babble, worrying about every word in your speech sounding patronising or rude. You look up to him, doe-eyed with a hint of regret. He smiles, holding the back of your head softly. Cupping your chin with his finger he raises your head to meet him at eye level.

“Oh darling girl. How naive. I would move the heavens and earth for you. You’re asking me to fill both of your holes, let you call me daddy and worship my balls while they’re sweaty? It’s filthy. It’s a little taboo. Perverse maybe. Letting my girl worship me and being able to spoil both of her holes with pleasure? It’s a mere inconvenience, I mean you’re really gonna have to pay me back for this sweetheart you know.” Eddie jokes, speaking in his dungeon master voice again. Knowing that voice always flusters you, as if you needed to be any more flustered.

Staring at the floor, “So you’re okay with it?” You ask earnestly. “More than okay. In fact, come to think of it.. I haven’t showered yet today. Definitely haven’t shaved my balls in ummmm ever? How about you take that pretty face of yours down there and make your daddy feel good?” You needed no further encouragement, you’d already been hiding your arousal from the embarrassment of being found out about your kinks, humiliation being another one.

You unbuckled and shimmied off Eddie’s jeans, palming him through his boxers as he grunts your name and several curse words. He was hard as a rock already, and a small wet patch over his boxers where he’d begun to leak a bead of pre-cum. Instincts took after and you licked up the wet stripe of his underwear, vaguely tasting his salty fluid. With your face so close to his underwear clad genitals, you couldn’t help but breathe in his scent. The odour of sweat and pre-cum mixed together was your perfect aphrodisiac. Nestling your face into his hard on, you inhale all you can of him. Eddie slides off his boxers and takes his cock into his hand, jerking it slowly whilst looking down at you. You look up with ‘fuck me’ eyes and a cheeky smile, removing his hand from his length.

You lean upwards, placing your nose under his cock. His pubes tickle your nose as you lick circles over his fuzzy balls, swallowing the loose hairs that collect on your tongue. “Dirty fucking girl aren’t you? So gross.” Eddie mutters through his teeth biting down on his bottom lip. You smirk, all innocence leaving your body. You steady your hand on the tip of his cock as it begins to leak again, taking one of his balls into your mouth and suckling as if it was a pacifier. You speak as best as you can whilst sucking onto him. The noises you make aren’t translate-able, they’re more-so moans and groans. “Don’t speak with your mouthful angel.” Eddie coos, taking your hair into a ponytail and holding it behind your head. He forces his ball out of your mouth and guides your mouth onto his cock. “M’so close.” He grunts as he fucks your mouth, pulling you backwards and forwards onto his dick so far down your throat that you’re gagging. You slurp up the salvia that begins to dangle from his length. He comes undone in your mouth, emptying the fuzzing balls that were once in your mouth and you taste the liquid that you’ve had a hunger for. A rope of cum hangs from your lip and he wipes it up with his finger, before helping you swallow the last drop from sucking it up off of his finger.

“Thank you daddy.” You look up at Eddie with a shit-eating grin like butter wouldn’t melt. “My good little girl.” He responds, you mentally thank yourself for never clearing your search history. 🍆

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 2: The Neglect

The drive to the airport only made you feel more nervous about living here; you’ve only ever known Goodsprings, a town so small you could see everything in less than an hour, and now here’s a giant city that makes you feel like an ant. Even Vegas seems small to Gotham. And if their size wasn’t bad enough, the buildings’ weird stone creatures looked like they were waiting to fly off and scoop you up.

Luckily, your Daddy’s house is outside the city, surrounded by a wall with large fields behind them. It made you feel a little better that you wouldn’t be surrounded by so many people all the time.

“And here we are, Master Y/N,” Mr. Pennyworth says as he pulls up in front of the massive mansion.

You get out and start to feel even more nervous. This isn’t a house, it’s a castle! Like the ones Momma showed you when she was researching stuff for her books. You’d probably need a map just to find the bathroom!

But, Mr. Pennyworth climbs up the stairs to the front door and you don’t want to make him mad, so you follow behind him. He opens the door and you’re inside a massive room with a giant grand staircase with a long red rug leading up to a second level that you can see leads to other places in the mansion.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Master Y/N. If you’ll follow me to your room, please.”

He leads you to the second level and down a few hallways to a room on the other side of the mansion. As you walk, you can’t help but think that all of Goodsprings could live here and there still be lots of room left.

“I apologize for the walk, but as Master Wayne and I have been the only two long term residents of the manor, the rooms meant for the family have not been in a suitable state for quite some time. And since it’s been some time since we’ve had guests stay over, the usual guest rooms have been repurposed for storage. I’m working on having one of the family bedrooms ready for you as soon as possible so you’ll be close to your father.”

“It’s alright,” you say, your voice almost a whisper. You really didn’t expect the butler to be so nice to you. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

He frowns a bit, but says nothing before opening the door to reveal a room smaller than your one back home. A bed sits in the far corner of the room with a dresser directly in front of it, a big tv sitting on top of it. There’s a door to the right where you enter the room.

“That door leads to your bathroom, Master Y/N. We have some time before the movers come with your belongings. Would you like to see the rest of the manor?”

“No, thank you. I think I wanna sleep after we put everything up.”

“Of course, you must be exhausted. If you want, I can handle collecting the boxes while you rest. I can leave them outside your door for you to deal with later.”

“I can help, Mr. Pennyworth.”

He seems a little surprised that you insisted on helping, but he says nothing before leading you back outside where a delivery truck stops behind the car. Since all you had was a few cardboard boxes that had nothing but clothes, toys, stuffed animals, books, and decorations, it didn’t take long to bring it all to your room and set everything up. As you look at your new room with all your stuff in it, you can’t help but feel like none of it belongs here.

That you don’t belong here.

“Do you need anything else, Master Y/N? Perhaps something to eat?”

“No thank you, Mr. Pennyworth. I just wanna sleep.”

“Very good. But just know, when you wake up, you will be eating something.”

You just nod and close the door, turning off the lights before crawling into bed. As you get settled, you can’t help but notice how cold the house feels. Yeah, you’re not in Nevada anymore, where it can go over a hundred degrees in the summer, but it’s like the house blocks any kind of heat, leaving only the cold. You close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

You wake up, dreaming of your Momma yelling for you and being in a car when something slams into you, and when you look around your room, you’re greeted by absolute darkness. As if the sun had completely disappeared. You jump out of bed and rush to the light switch, slapping it. When the lights come on, you realize that the lightbulb above you is dim and without the sun, it barely lights up your room. Wanting to be where it’s bright, you run out of your room and down the hall only to find the rest of the house is just as dim as your room, almost like no one in this house likes the light. Your little legs carry you down the same route you took earlier today and fortunately, the foyer is completely lit up by a giant crystal chandelier.

You run down the stairs and into another hall near the staircase. You pass by large room after large room and finally find yourself in a fancy kitchen, Mr. Pennyworth standing in front of a giant refrigerator.

“Master Y/N,” he says. “Are you alright?”

“Yes sir,” you say, not wanting to worry the man.

“But you’re out of breath. And you’re sweating.”

It’s then you notice that your forehead is slick with sweat and your chest is heaving. When you look up at the butler, you can tell he’s obviously worried about you.

“I got scared,” you admit. “I woke up and it was so dark.”

“I would imagine since it’s nighttime.” You jump a little at that. “You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours. I would’ve waken you up, but you looked like you needed the rest.”

“I haven’t slept so good since Momma…” You can’t bring yourself to say it. “Left.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, my boy.” He walks over to you and bends down to your height. “I could tell that you and your Mother were close and losing her so sudden is something no one so young should go through. I know that she can never be replaced, but I promise you that Master Bruce and I will be here for you and will help you with whatever you need.”

You feel the empty feeling that’s been with you since Momma died shrink just a little bit. Maybe you aren’t as alone as you thought.

“Alfred,” a deep voice lungs from behind you. You both look back to see a tall man with black hair and blue eyes standing in the hall. “I’m about to head out.”

“Master Bruce,” Mr. Pennyworth says, standing up. “This is Master Y/N. He’s awoke from his nap just a moment ago.”

You feel your heart stop at the man’s name. This is your Daddy? A million different questions swirled around in your head, like what was he like, what’s his favorite thing to do, did he remember your Momma?

He looks down at you. “Oh,” he says, a blank look on his face. “Hello.” With that, he turns around and begins walking down the hall. “I’ll be in touch, Alfred. From the sound of it, it’s gonna be a busy night.”

You feel your heart split in two at the way he just completely ignored you. Did you do something wrong? But you didn’t even say anything!How can he be bad at you if you haven’t said anything? You do your best to not cry as you look up at Mr. Pennyworth, who’s very angry.

“I’m sorry, Master Y/N. I know he’s throwing himself into his work to deal with Master Jason’s death, but that behavior is absolutely unacceptable. I’ll make sure he apologizes for that in the morning.”

Unfortunately, your Daddy didn’t say he was sorry when you woke up that morning. In fact, he wasn’t there when Mr. Pennyworth brought you down for breakfast, his work said there was someone important at one of his offices outside the country, so he hopped in his plane long before you woke up.

You were hurt, but Mr. Pennyworth said that he’d make sure that when things calmed down, you and your Daddy would have a long talk. You could do nothing but nod, trying not to cry because all you wanted was your Momma to walk through the door and take you back home. You got even more lonely when you started your new school, Gotham Academy, which is where all of Gotham’s rich people send their kids; Goodsprings Elementary wasn’t even half the size of this school and to make things worse, you had no friends here. That’s not to say that people didn’t want to talk to you, somehow news got out that you, the love child between Bruce Wayne and some unknown woman, were attending Gotham Academy, older and younger students shared your the moment you walked through the door. Hearing them ask you about your Momma only made you miss her more, so you stayed quiet.

They found something new to latch on to later in the week when your Daddy adopted Tim Drake, a boy whose parents were just as well known as him; his parents were killed in a plane crash and Daddy took him in. When they found out that the famous Tim Drake was now the adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, you were forgotten about. They asked him what Wayne Manor was like, how’d he feel to be adopted by Bruce Wayne, and other questions you didn’t really understand.

You were excited about Tim joining the family, though; you often wonder what having a brother would be like and you two were very close in age. It would be nice to have someone other than Mr. Pennyworth to talk to. Maybe the two of you could play Pokémon together!

You walked up to him the day Mr. Pennyworth told you that he’d be living at the manor with you, excited to get to know your newest family member, but that excitement quickly died when he took one look at you and walked away, like you weren’t interesting to him. You tried over and over to get him to like you, to get him to play with you, to at least look at you, but he just pushed you away (very harshly). And if things weren’t bad enough, he and Daddy spent every night together, locked away in the library.

It wasn’t fair! You were here first and had yet to talk to him, but Tim gets to spend time with him! And every time you tried to join, they just pushed you away, like you were some kind of fly buzzing around them. When that door closed, you wouldn’t see them until the next morning, so they were probably watching movies in there or something just as fun. You lived with three other people and you somehow felt more alone than ever since Momma died.

You met Dick a year later, around the anniversary of Momma’s death. At first, you were excited because Mr. Pennyworth said he was very friendly and had grown up in a circus before being adopted by Daddy, so he could do all sorts of tricks. Maybe you’d finally have a friend who wasn’t the butler.

Unfortunately, this ended in disappointment, too. Sure, it started off nice, he greeted you warmly (at least more warmly than your Daddy or Tim had) and ruffled your hair. You were so happy, you thought you’d explode. Finally, you had someone that you can spend time with.

“Dick,” your daddy said in his usual tone less voice.

“Sorry, baby bird, gotta go! We’ll hang out soon, though, promise!”

“Soon” never came though. He came over a few times during the day to spend time with Tim, either helping him with homework or taking him to Bat Burger, but never you. He always said that he promised to hang out with Tim and he’d do the same with you, but after the fifth time it happened, you stopped trying. He also spend time with Tim and your Daddy in the library at night, none of them coming out for the rest of the night.

Barbara came into your life little bit after Dick. When you saw her rolling in her wheelchair, you felt bad and offered to push her around. She snapped at you, saying she was fine and didn’t need your help. That was the first, last, and only time you talked to her. When you saw her spending time with your “family” in the library, you weren’t even hurt because you had grown used to it.

Cassandra and Stephanie came in around the same time when you nine. Stephanie was a burst of energy and it actually surprised you; Wayne Manor seemed to cancel out all noise and forced anyone inside it to be silent (at least that how it was for you) and she seemed to be happy to meet you. That lasted all of a week, though, and she quickly lost interest like a puppy that had grown up and was no longer cute to its owners.

Cassandra looked at you once, like he was trying to solve some mystery, and that was it. Alfred told you that she was mute and you did your best to learn ASL to better communicate with her. You picked up some of the basics, but not enough to carry on an actual conversation, so you opted to carry a little notepad with you so she could write things down, but when she kept ignoring you in favor of interacting with the rest of the family, you got the message. And when she and Stephanie spent time with your “family” in the library night after night, you stopped referring to Bruce as your Daddy. It was clear he didn’t want the title.

You had Alfred, anyway. Spending nights baking, helping him with his chores, and talking about your day over tea was enough for you.

Jason came back (from the dead) when you were ten. You met him when you caught him trying to sneak into the mansion through a window instead of coming through the door like a normal person (then again, you’ve long since realized that no one in this place is normal. Except Alfred.). Your meeting ended when he gave you a black eye and told you to stay away from him when all you did was say hi. You cried the entire night because you had school pictures the next day. It was a while before Jason started making regular appearances, but when he did, you weren’t surprised to see him spending nights in the library. When he glared at you, his blue eyes turning green, you asked Alfred to let you eat in your room and the man agreed to bring your meals to you.

When you were fifteen, the last one of join the Wayne Family was your biological brother, Damian. And the day you two met, you became convinced he only existed to make your pathetic life a living hell because the moment Alfred introduced you to him, he pulled an actual sword on you, giving you a small scar on your left cheek. You could do nothing but fall on your ass and look up in horror as this ten-year-old boy from hell raised his sword, spouting some nonsense about him being the “true blood son,” that you were “nothing more than the son of a harlot,” and how he will “be the one to inherit his father’s legacy.” For a moment, you thought you were about to be killed by the little bastard when Bruce appeared from out of nowhere and carried him off, Damian shouting threats and insults at you the entire time.

“Sorry about that, Y/N,” Dick said as he helped you up. “Are you ok?”

“What do you think,” you shouted at him. “That monster just sliced my face with a sword and tried to kill me!”

“Hey, don’t call him a monster,” he responded, give you a look of disappointment. “He had a difficult upbringing and he’s having to get used to Gotham and living with us. You should try to be a good big brother and support him.”

For a moment, you thought you suffered from a stroke and had misheard him, but the look on his face said you heard him correctly.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? He tries to kill me and I’m suppose to just let it go?”

“There’s no need for that kind of language, Y/N.”

You deemed the “conversation” a lost cause and leave, Dick calling out to you before going to the wing that holds the master bedrooms. Fortunately, Bruce kept bringing in other people to be a part of this demented family, so you were stuck with the tiny guest room that didn’t even have a window. But, it was far away from them, so it was a good trade.

After that, it seemed like Damian made it his mission in life to make your life hell. You couldn’t pass by him without him insulting you, hurting you, or bringing up your Momma, which would lead to you crying your eyes out. And when he started collecting pets, he would send them after you, Titus and Alfred the Cat chasing you throughout the manor, forcing you to barricade yourself in your room.

That leads to today: you accidentally dropped your Momma’s pen while walking to the kitchen and unfortunately, Damian was around the corner, watching the entire thing. He was able to move faster than your eyes could follow and before you knew it, he had swooped down and grabbed it just as you were about to. You look up in horror as he stares down at you with his usual smug and condescending expression as he waves the pen around, clearly mocking you.

“Your reflexes are slow and pathetic, inferior. You’re a massive disappointment to the Wayne bloodline.” He stares at the pen with disgust. “While this pen is poorly made and lacks any craftsmanship, it’s still more than a failure like you deserves.”

You stand up to your full height, trying to ignore the burning desire to tackle the little brat and bash his stupid head in. “Give that back to me. Now.” You realize you’re practically grinding your teeth to powder.

“I don’t take orders from you, inferior,” he bites back, his green eyes glaring at you. “You’re far beneath me. I come from two perfect bloodlines and that makes me superior to you by rite of birth. Your whore of a mother somehow managed to slither her way into my father’s bed and bring you into the world. You might have Wayne blood, but your tainted blood dilutes it.” He gets in your personal space nod even when looking up at you, he still tries to assert whatever dominance he thinks he has. “We will never be equals.”

You use this opportunity to grab the arm holding your Momma’s pen. As expected, he does not take kindly to this.

“You dare lay your hands on me,” he screeches, wrenching his hand away.

You don’t know how, but the little shit has impressive strength. Sure, you’re not an athlete (you’ve stayed roughly the same height since you hit puberty and can’t build muscle mass to save your life), but he shouldn’t have this kind of upper body strength! But, you’re determined to reclaim the pen, so you grab his hand with your other one and start pulling with all your might, doing whatever you can to break his grasp of it.

“Let go of me, you filthy interloper!” With a big tug, he breaks your grip and you can only look on in terror as he walks over to the kitchen window. “If you want this pen so much, you can look for it out there!” In a flash, he opens the nearby kitchen window and hurls your pen outside, where a massive downpour drenches the yard.

You can’t help but look on as it flies far from the mansion and out of your field of vision; on the ground, you see a ripple in the middle of the massive lake of rainwater and mud that the storm has created over the last three days of nonstop rain, indicating that your precious pen is now underwater.

In that moment, you feel nothing but immense sadness at your pen’s loss and unbridled rage at the one who did caused it. Every last thing he’s done to you flood your mind and you feel your face becomes incredibly flushed, your vision goes blood red in rage, and hot, angry tears stream from your eyes; before you know it, you’re right behind him, his back still turned to you from throwing your pen.

“You son of a bitch,” you shout at the top of your lungs, causing him to turn his head as you quickly deliver a swift backhand to his left check, the sound of your hand striking him echoing in the kitchen.

You know he shouts something back, but you’re so filled with rage that his words fail to reach your ears. You know he’ll retaliate and probably get in trouble with Bruce and Dick, but you don’t care. You’re pissed off and want nothing more than to inflict even a small amount of pain onto him, so that he’d feel even an ounce of what he’s made you feel since you two met. Using your height advantage, you grab both his shoulders and with all your rage-enhanced strength, you shove him to the floor, loving the sight of him wincing when he lands on his rear, but instead of looking up at you in fear like you wanted, he has a pissed off look.

Realizing that finding your pen is more important than dealing with him, you sprint to the door, throw it open, and dash into the rain, not caring that your clothes were completely soaked after only a few seconds and the wind froze you to the core. All that matters is finding that pen, the only piece of Momma that you were able to take with you, something so precious to her she refused to go anywhere without it.

Except that day, when she was taken from you and your life fell apart.

You wade through the many puddles, your socks providing no support so you stumble and fall, getting even more wet. But you pick yourself up and keep running until your at the puddle far from the house and that’s when you get on your hands and knees and start waving around hoping to touch even a little bit of the metal. You feel nothing, but you don’t let up, moving around the puddle, not caring that you’re getting more and more soaked with every second and that mud is slathered over your arms and legs.

“Come on,” you shout to yourself, getting more and more upset. “Come on, where are you?”

Finally, you feel something small, metallic, and cylindrical. You latch onto it like a lifeline and pull it up so hard the force of it makes you fall on your back, the puddle covering your entire body. You quickly sit up to see Momma’s pen. Wet and covered in mud, sure, but it’s back where it belongs. Now that the urge to find it is over, your senses quickly catch up and your realize your freezing, shivering, and soaked to the bone.

You run back to the mansion and when you close the door, you see that everyone is in the kitchen, all their eyes on you. You look at Bruce and see him mad, you look at Damian and see a shit-eating grin, and you look at Dick and see disapproval.

“Did you slap Damian when all he did was ask you for a pen,” Bruce asks.

That little shit’s convinced them this is all your fault. Of course, you should’ve known that he’d make you the bad guy and deflect any blame on his part.

“He didn’t ’ask,’ he took—“

“But you did slap him over a pen,” Bruce cuts you off.

“Yes, but—“

“Wow, I’ve done some petty shit, but this beats all,” Jason mocks, acting like this was some show and not you being ganged up on.

“That’s so uncalled for, Y/N,” Dick chides you. “There’s no need for you put your hands on Damian, especially for something so small.”

Your breath hitches and all you want is for the floor to open up and swallow you whole. They say nothing to you and ignore your existence for years and now, the one time they notice and speak to you, it’s to do this?

“Master Bruce,” Alfred interjects. “You’re not being fair. I believe that pen—“

“Alfred, it doesn’t matter what’s so special about the damn thing, it’s just a pen.” He holds his hand out to you. “Give it to me. Damian asked for it and after what you just did, he’s going to get it.”

You see Damian’s grin grow and your rage comes back.

“Hell no,” you mutter, slipping it into your pocket. You see everyone’s eyes widen while Bruce’s frown gets more intense at your defiance.

“What did you just say?”

You can tell he’s pissed at you defying him. Oh well, you’ve already dug your grave, what’s adding a few more feet to it gonna do?

“I said hell no!”

“Oh, man,” Jason cackles. “You done fucked up, kid!”

“Go to your room,” Bruce says with clenched teeth. “You’re grounded.”

You quickly leave the room, wanting to put as much room between them and you as possible. As you leave, you hear them talking about you, asking what’s wrong with you, how childish you are, and other stuff you really don’t want to hear right now. When you close your door behind you, the dam breaks and you fall to your knees, letting out a wail and allowing tears to stream from your eyes like a waterfall. The last time you cried this hard was when you were told Momma had died and it’s in this moment you wish you had been in the car with her now more than ever.

A knock at the door brings you back to your harsh and uncaring reality.

“Master Y/N,” Alfred calls from the other side. “May I come in?” You get up and open the door. “Oh, my dear boy.”

You allow him to come in and he closes the door behind him before bringing you into a tight hug, which is when you resume your crying.

“I hate them,” you shout in between sobs. “I hate them all!”

“I know,” he says. “I tried to tell them after you left the room, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“Alfred,” you say, pulling yourself together enough to talk coherently. “When I turn eighteen, I’m going back to Goodsprings.”

He pulls away and looks at you. “I understand why you feel that way, but it’s been ten years since you left, Master Y/N. If you go back there, you’ll be alone.”

“I’m alone here, Alfred!” You pull away from him. “Ever since I came here, they’ve made it clear that I’m unwelcome here! That I don’t belong here! At least back home, I’ll be surrounded by memories of Momma.”

“But this has been your home for ten years.”

“This isn’t my home, Alfred. It never was and it never will be.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it. Instead, he pulls you back into another hug. “I understand. I’ll miss you dearly, but if going back will make you happy, I’ll wish you all the best.”

You can do nothing but cry. You’ll miss Alfred, the only good thing to come out of going to live in this godforsaken city and this manor from hell, but when you need to get out of here. The sooner you leave Gotham and get back to Goodsprings, the better you’ll be.

A/N: thank you all so much for the likes and comments on chapter one! I really didn’t think that so many people would like it, but here we are! I hope you all continue to enjoy this series!

Tag list: @minkyungseokie @solelifauna @nosyrobin

[dipperscavern]

thinkin’ about (fem implied) targaryen!reader introducing cregan to their dragon (silverwing) for the first time

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

though you and cregan had been married for a few moons now, he had always preferred to leave the dragon-taming to you. dragons were formidable beasts, able to wipe out populations with a single breath of fire. truthfully, he had always been weary of them. he preferred for them to stay down south, because capable of a warrior & protector cregan is, there was nothing he could do to tame the temperaments of fire made flesh.

he had no qualms about silverwing specifically — a seemingly calm and gentle beast, who had done cregan the favor of sticking to her cave, unless to hunt or stretch her wings between your visits. while not fully capable of understanding, he thought of the targaryens ancestral connection to their dragons something akin to the starks and their direwolves.

he would watch with bated breaths as you and her took to the skies, becoming one in the art of wings, not words. he would exhale with relief each time you landed unscathed, and waited for you to depart from your dragon before approaching. and thus, you had fallen into routine. cregan stuck to his castle, silverwing stuck to her cave, and that was that.

until you started showing interest in introducing one to the other. the increased mention of your dragon in various conversations, occasionally flying over winterfell itself, when you had not dared such an endeavor before. cregan caught onto your idea long before you actually brought it up, and had been mentally preparing for the conversation he had no doubt would ensue. one fateful night, on the walk to your shared chambers after supper, ensue it did.

“Husband..” you began. “Wife,” was the response you got.

“I’ve been thinking,” you say, gaze flickering to cregans face in uncertainty. he hums, waiting for you to continue. “and it would greatly please me to have your company on the morrow. Whilst I see Silverwing.”

cregan keeps his gaze trained ahead, and you can almost see the gears in his head moving. he speaks, tone not with malice — only interrogative. “You would have me face the she-dragon?”

“Not face, my love. Only… greet.” you see the upward tug of cregans lips that tell you he doesn’t think that much of a difference.

you exhale through your nose, a twinge of annoyance seeping through you. though you can’t blame his hesitance (most men cower at the sight of dragons), you can’t help but feel like as he denies silverwing, he denies you. doesn’t he know you are one and the same?

“I only meant,” cregan says, “that dragons are… formidable creatures.” he’s careful with his words, he knows you view silverwing as an extension of yourself. “To displease a dragon is an err only men now with the gods have made.”

“Silverwing is most temperamental, and you would be safe in my company.” you assure, and you truly mean it. on dragonstone, silverwing is regarded as the gentlest of them all. “I only wish as I embrace Northern culture that you familiarize with mine own.”

cregan hums, knowing you have the right of this situation. marriage is about compromise, and you’ve been steadfast in your assimilation of his culture. you were married in the sight of his gods, you moved to his home, left your family… cregan is aware of the sacrifices you’ve made, indeed. he will meet you in the middle.

“On the morrow, then.”

out of his peripheral, he can see the instant smile that spreads on your face. it tugs on his (thought to be cold) heartstrings, and once you stop at the heavy wooden door, you stand on your tip-toes — pressing a kiss to his cheek. he bends to aid you.

it’s safe to say when morn comes, your mood is most chipper.

you and cregan had decided to do your dragon-embracing in the early morning, hours away from meetings or duties, time carved out where you can simply be. be with one another, silverwing, and if cregan is lucky, the gods. you can almost hear the silent prayers echoing from his mind as you make your way up the hill and to your dragons home.

you register the uncertainty in his gaze, and how his eyes flicker around the stone walls of the cavern entrance. you know you ask much, for him to saunter into the dragons den, but you’re grateful for his effort. excitement bubbles in your stomach at the prospect of seeing your dragon, and introducing her to the one you love.

you’ve not gone far in when you decide to halt (for cregans sake), you’re far enough in to be blocked by the wind, but close enough to the exit to soothe cregans nerves. cregans more than happy to allow you to take the lead, paying attention to your every move. you send him a smile, he attempts to return it.

you dislodge from cregans side, stepping forward as to be the first one silverwing sees. you have brought in tow a stranger, after all.

“Naejot Māzīs, Gēltīkun.” come forth, silverwing.

seconds pass, before you hear a low rumbling, accompanied by the sound of rocks moving — and the sound of something moving. something big.

cregan looks around, waiting to see her emerge, but he underestimates the dragons’ ability to cling to the shadows. had it already seen him, before he even knew it was there?

before he can finish his thoughts of curiosity about the stealth of dragons, the head of one slowly reveals itself, moving into the light, and cregan swallows. her gaze flickers to him only briefly, registering him in the least possible amount, before returning to & staying on you. you reach a hand up and out to her, and she lowers her head to you. cregan sees the brief close of her eyes, one touch from you being all it takes. targaryens, he thinks. targaryens indeed.

you step to silverwing, moving to run your hand from her nose up the expanse of her cheek, and cregan sees her lower her head almost fully to the ground. a part of him almost finds it cute. her lips split as a low rumble escapes her mouth, unlike the noises cregan hears her emit when you both are in the skies. even though cregan knows as much about dragons as you do about the witches of asshai, he would venture as far to say it didn’t sound like a displeased growl. more of an unsure-curiosity-filled-question-mark. still, you don’t take any chances.

“Lykirī.” you mutter, be calm. “Ziry iksos daor se qrinuntys, mērī issa valzȳrys.” he is not the enemy, only my husband.

steam blows from her nostrils in an almost sigh, lighter-toned noises echoing from her throat when you finish speaking. she makes you smile, hands still pressed against the hot, scaled skin of the dragon you share a soul with.

cregan knows not what you said in your ancient tongue, but it seems more than efficient in guiding silverwing toward the acceptance of cregans presence. she is cool-tempered, as you said. he remembers what feels like so long ago that he encountered your brother jacaerys’s dragon, vermax. an ill-tempered beast, he was — cregan would say. though he can’t blame it all on vermax entirely, dragons don’t like the cold.

once you’ve roamed your hands across silverwings neck, drinking her in, you beckon him over. “Come, Cregan.”

you could have went to him and came back to silverwing, but truthfully, you challenge him in a silent test of bravery. will he trust you, as you’ve trusted him?

cregans gaze moves from you, to your dragon — where it stays. he’s cautious, but you can’t fault him for that, and he eventually begins to step forward.

silverwing keeps her gaze trained on cregan, keeping herself unusually still as he approaches. you can’t claim to know the heart of a dragon, but your intuition tells you it’s her gentle nature — she doesn’t want to scare him. you amuse yourself with the thought of meleys or vermax in silverwings current place. meleys’ intimidating horns moving as she tilts her head to the side, challenging anyone to step forward (that isn’t rhaenys), or the light snap of vermax’s jaws as he enjoys toying with the man, watching them jump back from the prospect of his teeth.

when he’s a breath away from her, you decide to take pity, and move from silverwings side. now it is you and cregan, looking into her eyes in a silent understanding.

you slide your hand over his own, and move it up to touch her snout. she could pull away, or leave you a widow, but she doesn’t. she even moves a hair forward, nudging herself into cregans hand. the surprise in his face is palpable.

“She’s warm.” he says.

you nod. “In more ways than one, yes.”

you stand there for minutes, cregan lightly stroking silverwing, and her enjoying the attention. only when cregan himself removes his hand do you pull away.

“As much as I have… thoroughly enjoyed this,” he says, looking at silverwing as if she can speak english. “I think I’ve exercised bravery more than enough, this morn. Winterfell awaits.”

you sigh at the prospect of leaving your dragon and facing your duties. “That it does.”

cregan looks at you, secretly admiring your features. it is one thing to cautiously approach a dragon, and make it out alive. it’s another to slide on its back, and a different thing entirely to speak its language. he can’t deny the certain aura he feels, gazing at your silvery-hair, knowing you share the feature with all of your ancestors.

“Will you join me, or should I expect to return alone, cold and wifeless?” he asks, a smirk breaking its way through his usually-hardened exterior in light of his sarcasm. it makes you smile, so it was well worth it.

“Freezing and lonely, for now.” you say, brushing your cloak aside to show him a glint of your riding attire. the sight of it only etched love in cregans pupils as he reaches out for you, and connects his lips to yours. the kiss is briefer than you both would have liked, but duty unfortunately calls. once you break apart, he looks at silverwing, and with a quick nod of his head, turns to exit the den he’s grown to appreciate.

cregans approaching winterfells gates when he hears the whoosh of wings, and looks up just in time to see a familiar pair fly over him & winterfells walls. the men around him duck, your laugh and silverwings screech intertwining into a euphony fit only for the gods to hear — and as cregan watches you dance with the clouds, he remembers the feeling of dragon-scaled warmth under his palm.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

[vwoop-prince]

YJ S3 Dick, still in the midst of his fever dream, hides underneath the 'souvenir' instead of behind some boxes, and accidentally opens the airlock trying to take care of the Parademons. The others get it to close... but not before Nightwing is thrown into space.

There, he stares at the ship holding his friends and mentors. There, he wishes more than anything that he can, somehow, survive. There, he tries to live, if only so his family don't have to bury him like Jason.

There, Nightwing dies, wanting to save everyone, even with the cold seeping into his bones far too quickly for a regular section of space.

Then, Dick opens his eyes to... Earth? There's a little house, and grass, and trees, but there's a bubble of green over it all. Outside of that green was an entire castle, one that looked like it should have far more support beams than it does for even a hope that it stays standing.

And the sky was swirling shades of that same green. It makes him think of Lazarus.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day." He whips his head behind him, a bit too fast for Earth's atmosphere, but it doesn't hurt him. Past the bubble of green was a blue-skinned adult in purple robes, the insides of a grandfather-clock fitted inside their torso, and a black staff with a stopwatch on its top. Beside them was a man with snow white hair, glowing green eyes, a crown of frozen fire dancing above his head, and the most galaxy-like cloak Dick's ever seen clasped to his shoulders. He's wearing... a hazmat suit? Maybe? The twinkling stars and odd lighting of wherever he is were giving him a bit of a headache.

But in front of those two, within this bubble, was...

"DICK!" Wally shouted with unrestrained glee, a blur overtaking his spot for barely a heartbeat before Dick's stuck in a crushing hug that he reciprocates once his brain stops feeling like its melting.

He doesn't know how long it took for them to calm down, but the man with the crown spoke up after a time, as Wally was still wiping their faces free of tears. "Welcome to the Infinite Realms, Nightwing." Dick barely even registered that he was still wearing his suit, but now it felt suffocating. "I suppose you're the one Clockwork was holding out for; There shouldn't've been enough Ectoplasm around you to form a Ghost, and your physical body's still in space. I can see why you like this one, though, Clockie," he states flippantly, turning to his companion. Almost like he didn't expect Dick to pay too close attention to what he was saying.

"Either way, there's two options for you." The man didn't let Dick swallow his tears and question anything. Dick's not sure if he's grateful or not. "First: Stay in the Realms permanently. You'll see Kid Flash whenever you want and learn to be a Ghost with the denizens of the Realms. Maybe find your parents."

"But..." Dick pulls away from Wally, keeping him at arms length, eyes flitting between them. The two outside the bubble were distinctly... ghost-like, so the mentions of 'Ghosts' make sense. But Wally looked... alive. A bit pale, a bit thin... but alive. Dick can't see any of his own skin to see if it was blue or tinted that way, but the Nightwing symbol on his chest kept flickering between its own blue and this 'Realms' green. "But--What about the others? What about you? Why can't you come home?" The last two, he focuses on Wally, because now he can feel a heartbeat beneath his gloves. Wally's alive. He's alive.

His friend just shrugs. "Something about their portals not fit for the living? I'm meant to wait for someone to figure out a permanent portal, but they won't tell me how long that'll take." Wally glares at the... 'Ghosts'? There was a heat to it, but it also seemed like this was a well-worn argument.

"The permanent portal was always an 'if', Wallace West. And that is entirely dependent on if Richard Grayson takes the second option," the clock Ghost--Clockwork?--speaks up. But instead of the adult Dick was expecting, there was an elderly Ghost in their place. Still with the time motif. Was that... more literal than Dick took it?

"Yes, the second option..." The crowned man glares daggers at Clockwork. The temperature dips below comfortable. Dick tries to blink the spaceship and stars out of his sight, withdrawing his arms from Wally to try and warm himself. Tries to remember he's not in space. "The second option is that you return to your body... changed. You'll be able to protect Earth better, stay with your alive family, save the Lost Ones... for a price."

Dick doesn't know if he should ignore the plural in 'Lost Ones'. He doesn't know if he's reading too much into how, in this Realm, apparently only his parents were able to be found. Where's Jason? He doesn't dare hope, but...

"What's the price?"

The man smiles and a ring of blue forms around his waist. It splits in two and travels up and down his body, replacing the cloak and whatever clothes he was actually wearing with a NASA shirt, worn jeans, and red sneakers actually duct taped together. The blue tint to his otherwise tan skin fades completely. His hair turns black. His eyes turn blue.

He was like a taller, slightly slimmer, way hotter version of Bruce.

The man walks through the bubble, but doesn't disturb the grass beneath his feet. "You become the Ghost King's vassal." Dick flinches away and almost hides behind Wally. "Not my idea! But, well... it is either this, or your permanent death."

"What does becoming a vassal do to him?" Wally asks, gently trying to stop Dick from breaking his ribs with how tightly he was hugging himself. Does he even have ribs?

"He gains my powers. Ice, electricity, invisibility, intangibility, flight... He becomes a Halfa. He becomes what I was, in life. Just... needing to make offerings to me, now and then. Something like that, at least. I give him powers, he gives me a chunk of, I don't know, chocolate once a week. Like a warlock."

Wally keeps talking to the man, keeps getting information that he knows he should pay attention to, but something in his chest screams to accept this deal, and he can't focus on anything else.

Nightwing can protect. He can return to life and go back to Blüdhaven, be the Vigilante they need. He can visit Gotham every now and then, help with cases and stop criminals from harming others. He can see his brother. He can see his friends. He can eat Alfred's cookies, and have little get-togethers with Babs and the Team--hell, he can argue with Bruce.

And all he has to do is... give an offering to this guy? The Ghost King? Every once in a while?

"There's no other price?" The King turns his attention to Dick. His eyes had shifted to a blue-green that almost hypnotize him. The green swirls, the blue forms and melts like snowflakes, and he can't look away.

He takes another step forward and Wally steps to the side. There was familiarity between them. Wally deferred to him. Dick can't quite tell why. Though, with how Wally hasn't once looked at Clockwork, maybe it's because he's... grounded? Are all speedsters in trouble with, what, the Ghost of Time? That... actually makes perfect sense.

"I'll be honest, Nightwing: You've impressed me." The weight behind the King's words lifts the ones that've been on his shoulders since he was nine. "You remind me of myself. Maybe, if I wasn't a Halfa... If I had a mentor... I could've been like you.

"Despite Clockwork's insistence over the years that I get back in touch with the living, I've held off. When he eventually suggested that I help create another Halfa, I locked him in his tower for twenty years. I didn't want anyone to go through what I had. But, now... I see that you won't. You can't. Even if you hide this deal--our shared powers... You'll still have people by your side. Strong people. Smart people. You can already handle yourself. And I'd love to see what you can do--who you can save--with my help."

There was maybe two inches between their faces when the King finishes speaking. Dick roves his eyes across the other's face, trying to find the common and familiar ticks that show lies and deceit and manipulation. All he finds is sincerity and genuine care.

Wally plays with his fingers from the corner of his eye, gaze hopeful as he looks between the two of them. Wally, who was alive and breathing and able to leave if he accepts. Eventually. Somehow.

Dick Grayson sends a quiet apology to his parents and hopes they will forgive him for being a little bit selfish.

"I accept."

He flings his eyes open. Above him, domino mask too wobbly to be properly secured anymore, was Robin crying and begging him to wake up. His hands were sloppily placed over his heart. Batman was trying to drag him away, the firm set of his jaw screaming grief.

Nightwing gasps once he registers his lungs burning.

There's a large cacophony of noise, multiple bright suits and people hounding over him, and the distinct artificial taste of slightly-too-much oxygen that the ship with the Parademons had. That he flew out of and died. He was still too cold.

Someone moves their arm beneath his knees and shoulder and Dick passes out.

(Dick 'Nightwing' Grayson dies in space. Ghost King Danny Phantom likes this too-human Hero. They split their souls in half, take one piece of the others, and all they know is that Phantom is now Nightwing's Patron Deity. Danny uses ice, for electricity killed him. Dick uses electricity, for ice killed him. They are opposites, and yet so incredibly similar. Clockwork was looking forward to when Danny starts putting off his paperwork to hang out with his new 'friend'.)

[alexsshittyworld]

"Alicent is such a boy mom !!"

Meanwhile she walks around that castle calling Helaena her dearest love, spends most of her time with her, listens to her talk about her insects even though she doesn’t like them, didn’t give herself time to grieve her grandson because she was worried about Helaena being able to grieve, put herself between Helaena and Aemond because she would let him burn down the seven kingdoms if it meant he stayed away from her (also one of the only times we’ve seen her fight back against one of the men in her life) and is ready to sacrifice her sons if she can take her daughter and granddaughter and disappear forever.

Alicent "girl mom" Hightower, I see you and I love you.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Anyone else come to some wildly different conclusion on Ghibli movies with age?

Kiki's Delivery Service: Kid: Being a witch is so cool! Adult: Growing up and growing apart from the life you had before is a natural progression of life. You aren't losing the old parts of yourself, just finding new pieces that were there all along. Life is about changing, you'll never stay stagnant.

Ponyo: Kid: She's such a cute fish, you should always follow your dreams! Adult: Leaving home will not take you away from your family. Even when you're miles away and you feel like you're in different worlds your family will still be there, encouraging you. Parents are meant to let go of their kids at some point.

Howl's Moving Castle: Kid: Sophie's a big sister like me! I want to a princess in a magic castle. Adult (I've also read the book): Sometimes you don't find your place in this world, you make one. The people that come along with you will see you through every ugly part of yourself and you would do the same for them. Chase after that shooting star.

Spirited Away: Kid: What just happened... Adult: SHIT HAPPENS! And it sucks, life sucks but you keep going. You can cry along the way. You are being so fucking brave for even going on this hellish journey we call life. It's okay. You're okay.

[felassan]

More on the Varric deaths stuff, two, as well as on DAII Exalted March and DA:I -

"This expansion was going to be called Exalted March, and here, Varric was going to finally step out from the interrogation room so we could play in the present day, so to speak. It was also here that Varric - in a climactic confrontation new villain Corypheus, introduced in Legacy - was going to die. "So what I wanted to do with the expansion was: there's a lot of stuff we cut and I really wanted to put a bowtie on the Dragon Age 2 story," former lead writer David Gaider told me earlier this year while chatting about the creation of the Dragon Age world for a piece about maps. "It had the confrontation with Corypheus and the whole thing. We'd introduced him in a DLC, which I didn't want to do, but we did it, so I wanted to sort of tie that off. And I wanted to kill Varric because he was the viewpoint character and I'm like, 'This is his story, it needs to end with his death.' "He was the unreliable narrator, right?" he added. "I felt like it had to end with him. So we had this great moment where Corypheus is using the Red Lyrium and it's growing out of control, but [Varric is] a dwarf so he's a little bit immune, so he's able to do the Wrath of Khan Spock thing and get in close and destroy it. And he gets Corypheus enough so the party can take him out, but then he's dying from Red Lyrium poisoning so there's this nice moment with him and Hawke as Hawke says goodbye. And with his death, the story ends. And I felt that's appropriate for Dragon Age 2's arc." Exalted March, however, was never released. BioWare cancelled Exalted March to refocus the studio on new game Dragon Age: Inquisition and the move to new engine Frostbite. The expansion was "cannibalised", as Gaider put it, talking to me, and expanded to become Inquisition. Which is how Corypheus suddenly became the main villain in Inquisition, and how Varric managed to stay alive. It didn't stop Gaider trying to kill him again, though. "I tried to kill him in Inquisition," he told me. "I think mainly because I didn't get to do it in [DA2]. And everyone was like, 'But the Inquisitor isn't Hawke! It lacks the same meaning.' And I was like, 'Yeah, I guess you're right.'" Still, it was a difficult thing to let go of. "I was a little bit upset," he said, "and I remember I went and said - because they wanted to start work on Dragon Age 3 immediately - 'Well, you can make me do that, yes, and I will just be the guy in the meetings doing this [he makes a standoffish posture]. Or you can let me go home for a month or so, get this out of my system and grieve, and I will come back. And I swear, when I come back, I will be ready to go.'" He was true to his word, but he still wasn't entirely done trying to kill Varric. In March last year, Gaider revealed there were once plans for Corypheus to attack the Inquisition's mountain castle base, Skyhold. "The threat of Corypheus after Haven was never truly realised," Gaider tweeted. "An attack on Skyhold would have upped the ante. Maybe I could have killed someone finally... but instead, Corypheus remained a remote villain you chased but were rarely chased by. "By the way," he then added, "if you're wondering who I would have killed in Skyhold, given the chance, the answer is obviously Varric. That dwarf was meant to die in the (cancelled) DA2 expansion and escaped his fate despite having been in my crosshairs ever since." Varric survived again. "After Dragon Age Inquisition came out I'd already left the Dragon Age team," he told me."

[source]

what I'm reading, if I understood it right, is that Varric has survived death at least 3 times thus far.. (；・∀・)

[chvoswxtch]

secrets

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: in the aftermath of your fight with frank, you get more than one unexpected visitor.

warnings: swearing, lots & lots & lots of angst

word count: 4.4k

a/n: it's getting juicyyyy. friendly reminder y'all voted for a double drop this week, so chapter twenty one is coming this friday. enjoy. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“You keep frownin’ like that, you’re gonna get wrinkles.”

Lifting your focused gaze from your computer screen to the source of a familiar voice, the creases etched along your forehead deepened at the sight of Billy standing in your office doorway, leaning against the frame with his hands tucked into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit pants and that signature vain smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too, darlin’.”

Billy let out a dry chuckle, crossing the threshold over towards your desk in just a few quick strides. Leaning over your desk, Billy stretched his hand out to brush his thumb along the space between your eyebrows, effectively smoothing out the crinkles of concentration coupled with confusion. The gesture caught you off guard, and you blinked a few times in surprise as Billy unbuttoned the middle button on his dark gray suit jacket before sitting down in the chair in front of your desk.

“There, that’s better. Now, how ‘bout you at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, that same smirk still gracing the edge of his lips in a silent tease. Looking over at him, it occurred to you that there always seemed to be some hint of mischief lingering in his deep espresso tinted eyes. Leaning back in your chair and folding your arms over your chest, you gave him a pointed look.

“What can I do for you, Billy?”

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine today.”

“I could be worse, if you’d like.”

Billy’s lips split into a full blown grin, and he let out an amused chuckle at the sass dripping from your dry reply.

“Nah, I’ve seen you pissed. I’d prefer to stay on your good side, sweetheart. You wanna tell me what’s got you in such a pleasant mood this mornin’?”

Being around Billy just made you think about Frank, and thinking about Frank only reminded you of the fact that the two of you weren’t in a good place right now. He swore to you the night you confronted him that he was going to wrap this job up as quickly as he could, but that meant he had to devote all of his time to it, which resulted in him being around even less than he had been last month. 

Two weeks had passed since you’d last seen Frank in person. When you woke up in his bed the morning after you’d shown up at his apartment to confront him, he was already gone. He’d left a note on his pillow saying that he would call you soon, but that call didn’t come for four days, and neither one of you had much to say. You thought hearing his voice after being apart for a while would make you feel better about the whole situation, grant you some sense of relief or jumpstart a spark of acceptance you couldn’t find beforehand, but it only made you even more pissed off about what was happening.

And then the call you had with him two days ago really set you off.

Frank had been trying to keep the conversation light, and there was an apologetic tone to his gruff voice, but you couldn’t bite your tongue. The more you sat alone with the vague explanation he had given you, the more his promise of reassurance felt like fraud. You drew blood first, like you always did, but after a round of back and forth passive aggressive exchanges, Frank lost his own temper and went on the defense.

“For Christ’s sake, what else you want me to say, huh? How many other ways I gotta apologize?”

“We shouldn’t even be in this situation right now, Frank-”

“Yeah, well we are, and you’re gonna have to find a way to deal with it cause it ain’t changin’ any goddamn time soon.”

Frank’s aggressive retort only incensed you further. The stress of the current job combined with the growing rift between the two of you eroded his patience into raw frustration, and you were matching his verbal lashes blow for blow.

“Just deal with it? Just deal with you being away and hiding things from me?”

“That’s the job sometimes, alright? You know first hand the kinda shit I gotta do. You know what my world’s like. I told you I was gonna do what I could to get this handled as soon as possible-”

“But this isn’t your normal job, Frank! Stop using that as a fucking excuse. You’ve never had to disappear to God only knows where before, and you’ve never kept secrets from me-”

“Oh for fucks sake. You think that’s what I’m doin’? Makin’ excuses? That’s bullshit and you know it. I told you what I could-”

“And that’s supposed to be enough?“

“It was enough for Maria.”

Those five simple words stunned you silent. They struck a nerve you didn’t even know existed, and Frank, blinded by his aggravation, just kept hacking away at it with his verbal arsenal.

“Ya’know, she never gave me this much fuckin’ shit, and she had to deal with way worse than you. I was away from her and the kids for months at a time, couldn’t tell her a goddamn thing ‘bout what I was really doin’, and she was never on my ass the way you are right now-”

“I’m not her, Frank!”

The only sounds on the line were yours and Frank’s labored breathing, shallow and heavy from yelling and exhausting your vexed emotions on one another. For several moments, neither of you spoke a word, until finally you broke the silence by gritting your teeth and delivering one last blow.

“You know what, don’t fucking call me again until this shit is over.”

Frank, being the stubborn ass that he was, hadn’t attempted to contact you to smooth things over or to apologize. It infuriated you, but in the same breath, you didn’t want to speak to him right now. 

Still, it wasn’t fair of you to take your sour mood out on Billy. He hadn’t done anything wrong. You were upset with Frank, not him. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you slowly dragged your palm down your face before leaning back in your chair. You hadn’t noticed how stiffly you’d been sitting until you felt a dull ache in your lower back.

“I…sorry. There’s just…a lot going on right now. I’m spread kinda thin so, I’m…a bit on edge.”

“A bit?”

When you shot him an unamused look, Billy let out a light chuckle and held up his hands in a show of faux surrender.

“Alright, alright. I didn’t come to here to fuck with ya. I actually came to ask a favor.”

An expression of surprise swiftly coveted your features. What could you possibly have to offer Billy Russo?

“A favor?”

Billy leaned back in the chair, adjusting the lapels of his suit before crossing his left leg over his right knee, placing his elbows on the arm rests. Maybe it was because your office was familiar to him, or maybe it was because he was so rich he felt like he owned everything, but Billy had a way of being able to make himself comfortable no matter what setting he was in. Fixing his deep brown eyes on you, that signature smirk of his graced his lips once again when he caught your look of intrigue and confusion.

“As you know, Anvil has a government contract with Homeland Security. It was a big deal for the company, and it’s proven to be a damn good business investment. As a matter of fact, it’s been so successful, that I’ve been meetin’ with a few other branches negotiatin’ another expansion, and recently closed a deal with the CIA.”

“Don’t government contracts kinda defeat the whole private military operation thing?”

“I didn’t hear you complainin’ when that Homeland contract brought you to me.”

Rolling your eyes at the smugness in his voice, you reached for the nearly empty iced coffee sitting on your desk.

“It wasn’t a complaint.”

“Anvil is more than personal protection, darlin’. It’s also convoy security, tactical operations, tailored training, and more. Most of our military contracts are outside of the U.S, so havin’ two on American soil is a huge deal.”

“If you’re trying to sell me on investing, I hate to break it to you, but I think the number currently reflecting in my bank account would make you cry.”

Billy let out a deep chuckle at that, his lips stretching open into a tooth bearing grin. Giving a faint shake of his head, he ran his right hand along the top of his head, smoothing his perfectly styled raven hair back into place.

“That’s not what I’m askin’.”

“Then how do I come into this, exactly?”

“The news hasn’t hit the media yet. Anvil’s hosting a Veteran’s Charity Ball this Saturday night, and I’m gonna make the announcement then. That, pretty girl, is where you come into play. I’d like you to personally cover the story.”

Looking across your desk at Billy, you could see by the look on his face that he was serious about wanting you to cover the piece. A slight furrow nestled between your brows at the idea.

“Why me?”

Billy cocked his head to the side, a sparkle of mirth in his eyes and a sly smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“Why would I ask anyone else? You know me, you know the company-”

“Which is kind of conflict of interest-”

“I already cleared it with your editor. You bein’ under the protection of Anvil is classified through Homeland, and since we’re a private company like you mentioned, our records ain’t public. Besides, your editor seemed pretty confident you could write without bias. Look, I want you on this. I’ve read the work of some of the other journalists here, and I gotta tell ya, even if I didn’t know ya, I still woulda picked you.”

Hearing that Billy had already talked to Ellison about this was a surprise to you because Ellison hadn’t mentioned it at all to you. When had Billy talked to him about this? Why hadn’t Ellison told you? Perplexity shrouded your features as you looked over at Billy.

“Ellison didn’t say anything-”

“I asked him not to. I wanted to ask you first, in person. He gave it the green light, but ultimately, it’s up to you if you wanna do it.”

Being kept in the dark seemed to be a recurring theme in your life lately that you weren’t happy with, and it stirred up dull embers of irritation from your fight with Frank. A part of you didn’t want to do it purely out of immature spite, since Billy indirectly had a hand in creating the chasm currently deepening between you and Frank. But that wasn’t fair to Billy. You owed him your life as much as you did Frank and Dinah. Billy played a vital part in keeping you safe and protected from the Defenders of Freedom, and recording Steven’s confession ended up being the smoking gun in proving his involvement.

After a moment of silent contemplation, you let out a light exhale through your lips.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t get too excited, now. It’s only a fancy party with an extensive open bar and catering from all of the best restaurants in the city.”

Trying to fight the smile that threatened to escape across your lips, you looked over at Billy and arched one of your brows.

“Are you trying to bribe me to write you a good article, Mr. Russo?”

“Is it workin’?”

Billy’s mouth was stretched in a wide, wolfish grin, showcasing the top row of his dazzling pearly white teeth. His dark brows were raised slightly up his forehead, and he had that familiar devilish twinkle in his eyes. Giving a soft shake of your head with a dry laugh, you crossed your arms over your chest and relaxed back in your chair.

“What time?”

“Starts at seven, I’ll send a car for ya ‘round six-thirty.”

“You don’t have to do that, I can take a cab-”

“C’mon, you’re doin’ me a favor.”

“Hey, I never agreed to write a good article. I might make you look terrible, just for the fun of it.”

Returning your teasing smile with an amused grin, Billy chuckled with a shake of his head. As he stood up and fixed his maroon tie, he motioned towards your office door with his head.

“Alright, c’mon.”

Staring up at him with a puzzled expression, you let out a soft laugh while he buttoned the middle button of his suit jacket.

“What?”

“I’m takin’ your bratty ass to lunch. Maybe after some food you’ll be a bit nicer.”

Making a show of rolling your eyes in faux exasperation, you stood from your chair and locked your computer before closing your notebook.

“No promises.”

“Well in my experience, you’re more tolerable when you’re fed.”

“Keep talking. Your article is getting worse and worse.”

“I’m sure a few glasses of expensive champagne will fix that.”

Billy turned to take a step towards the door and then abruptly paused, turning back to look at you with another teasing grin.

“Oh, and do me another favor, would ya? See if you can get Frankie to drag his ass out and make an appearance. I think he’s forgotten how to use his phone.”

The mention of Frank’s name instantly tarnished the light hearted mood Billy’s banter had put you in. Letting out a dry scoff, you slipped your phone into your purse and pulled the straps over your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath. That job you and Madani have him working has not only turned him into a ghost, but also a complete dick. I’ll let you deal with him.”

Tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, you started to round your desk when you looked up and caught the expression on Billy’s face, and it made you stop in your tracks. His sharp features were suddenly void of their usual playful warmth, and there was no charming smirk etched onto his mouth. His lips were set in a firm line, outlining his chiseled jaw that was covered in a perfectly trimmed dark beard, and his dark brown eyes looked nearly obsidian. 

“The job with Madani?”

There was a faint serrated edge to his tone when he spoke, but you didn’t miss it. Billy’s stare was intense, and you realized he probably thought that you knew something you shouldn’t. Crossing your arms over your chest, you let an irritated exhale escape through your nose as your gaze drifted towards the window of your office.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t tell me anything. Not where he was going, not what he was doing, nothing. So whatever top secret thing you two have him doing, it’s still top secret, alright?”

There was a long pause of silence, and your annoyance started to fade into a feeling of perplexity when you looked back at him and saw a look in Billy’s eyes that you didn’t know how to read. There was a sudden coldness to him, and an emotion you couldn’t decode hidden in his steely gaze. The tense quietness in your office sent an uneasy shiver down your spine, but then it was like a switch was suddenly flipped, and Billy reverted back to the version of him you’re familiar with.

He plastered that charming smirk on his lips again, but you noticed this time, it wasn’t accompanied by the usual mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Trouble in paradise?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you dropped your gaze down to the floor for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t like being lied to, or kept in the dark. I know your line of work is…complicated, I just…I thought Frank and I didn’t have any secrets between us.”

“Sometimes lyin’ and keepin’ somethin’ hidden is the only way to protect someone from the pain of the truth.”

Lifting your head, you met Billy’s intense gaze with an incredulous and inquisitive look.

“You really believe that?”

“Trust me, some secrets are better left buried, darlin’.”

»»———　　———««

The following evening when you came home from work, all you wanted was a long soak in a hot bath and an entire bottle of wine. The stress of the last two weeks wasn’t just taking a toll on you emotionally, it was also physically manifesting in your body. Closing the front door behind you, the lock sounded with a click when you twisted the oval knob, and you lazily tossed your keys onto the side table in the entryway before carelessly tossing your purse onto it as well. 

Coming around the corner into your living room, you nearly had a heart attack when you were suddenly met with the sight of a large figure sitting at your dining table, waiting in the dark. Clutching at your chest in panic and jumping nearly two feet in the air, your voice came out in a shrill shriek.

“Jesus Christ, Frank!”

Frank didn’t physically react to your outburst. He sat as still as a statue in one of the chairs, slightly hunched over with his thighs spread wide, his forearms resting just a few inches above his knees. A bit of dark stubble coated his cheeks and sharp jawline, and his grown out hair was a tousled mess of ebony waves resting against his forehead instead of being pushed back in their usual style.

The swift scare of Frank’s intrusion, his silent treatment, and the lingering resentment you’d been harboring for the past two weeks had you glaring at him.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

His deep brown eyes were fixated on you and his plump lips were set in a stubborn line. Frank’s rugged features were even more pronounced in his resting semi-permanent broody expression. Wordlessly, he lifted one of his large hands, showcasing a set of keys on a ring pinched between his thumb and index finger. One of which, belonged to your front door. 

After everything that had happened at your last place, you couldn’t stay there anymore. You’d quickly moved into a new place that happened to be closer to the Bulletin, and as far as you knew no one had died in it, and there weren’t lingering bullet holes under the paint. Frank had helped you move and set up your security system for you again. You’d forgotten that you’d given him a spare key so he could get in while you were at work.

When you crossed your arms over your chest in a defensive stance, Frank caught the pissed off look on your face, and when you opened your mouth to lash out at him, he quickly cut you off with his rough voice before you could get a word out.

“Said not to call. Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout comin’ to see ya.”

The snippiness of his comment made you narrow your eyes in his direction. Clenching your jaw, you pursed your lips tightly as your face contorted into a portrait of annoyance. You were about to snap back at him when you noticed out of the corner of your eye that there was a packed bag sitting on the dining table next to him.

It was yours.

Eyes flickering between your bag and Frank, you stared at him in a mixture of irritation and confusion.

“What the hell is that for?”

“I gotta leave town for a bit. I told ya I’d make sure you were taken care of while I was gone, so you’re gonna stay with a friend of mine.”

“And you didn’t think to ask me if that was something I even wanted to do?”

“It ain’t up for discussion.”

Frank hadn’t been this cold towards you since the early days of when he was your bodyguard. For a moment your exasperation evaporated, wondering if things between the two of you were worse than you thought. Picking up on the slight change in your body language and facial expression, Frank let out a deep exhale through his large nose and slowly stood up from the chair.

“I can’t do what I need to do if I’m worryin’ ‘bout you bein’ alone here, alright? It’s just for a few days.”

“Frank, I’m not in any danger anymore. No one is actively trying to kill me. If you’re that worried about me being alone, Billy can stop by-”

“No.”

The aggressive tone of Frank’s voice and the roughness of his tone caught you off guard. Frank glanced away from you, his eyes darting around your living room for a few seconds before they finally returned to you. His left hand was tightly grasped in a fist, but on his right, his index and middle finger twitched. A sharp exhale escaped his large nose, and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip quickly before he spoke again.

“Look you wanna be pissed at me, be pissed at me, but don’t put yourself at risk cause of it. Maybe you’re right, yeah? Maybe you ain’t a target no more. But I’d rather know you were safe than have to deal with the fact later on that I shoulda done more. I ain’t takin’ that risk again.”

It was like a light bulb went off in your head when he spoke that last sentence. In the midst of your own tangled mess of selfish feelings, you hadn’t once stopped to think about how Frank felt about all of this. A sinking feeling of remorse settled in your stomach hearing the frustration but also the lingering pain in his voice when he spoke. 

I ain’t takin’ that risk again.

He’d had his entire family ripped away from him in one single moment, right in front of his eyes, of course he was fucking paranoid. From your perspective, Steven was facing life in prison, and all the remaining members of the Defenders of Freedom were gonna rot with him, so you didn’t think you had anything to be worried about.

But Frank saw danger everywhere. He anticipated it. He planned for it. And that’s what he was doing right now. 

Frank was doing the exact same thing he’d been doing every single day since he met you: keeping you safe.

Letting out a deep sigh, you looked down at the floor for a moment to gather your irrational thoughts and rein in your impulsive emotions. When you raised your head, your eyes flickered from the packed bag sitting on your dining table back to Frank’s unrelenting stare. Running one of your hands stressfully through the roots of your hair, you made a faint gesture of throwing your hands up in concession.

“Alright, well if you’re not leaving me with Billy, I’m assuming you’re not taking me to Madani either. So, does Matt know I’m coming?”

Frank’s steely expression crumbled at the mention of Matt’s name. He pulled a face like you’d just asked a ridiculous question, a furrow of annoyance and confusion settling between his thick brows.

“You think I’d leave you with him?”

Letting out a dry scoff void of humor, you rolled your eyes with a shake of your head and folded your arms across your chest.

“Just because he’s blind-”

“It ain’t got shit to do with him bein’ blind.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I don’t trust him to keep his fuckin’ hands to himself, and I ain’t lettin’ him pull that ‘poor blind orphan’ shit on you.”

A look of surprise crossed your face as your brows lifted slightly up your forehead, and it took every ounce of self control not to laugh or show any indication of amusement. Frank wouldn’t leave you in Matt’s care because he was worried he would…hit on you?

Letting out a grunt, Frank grabbed the handles of your bag in his left hand and swiped it off the table.

“He’s too preoccupied at night anyway.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Bein’ the goddamn Devil. C’mon.”

When Frank walked past you towards your front door, you turned around to watch him, narrowing your eyes in irritation.

“Can you at least tell me who you’ve employed to babysit me then?”

Frank paused at your front door, which he took up the entire frame of, and his head dropped between his shoulders for a moment. You could hear him audibly voice his frustration with your attitude when he let out another sharp exhale before turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“A friend of mine.”

“Yeah, you said that. A friend of yours, that you’ve never mentioned before. Do I have to have some kind of top secret security clearance for you to tell me their name?”

There was a scowl on Frank’s face as he glowered at you, turning around to face you fully. He dropped your bag on the floor with a light thud, scrunching up his face for a moment as he inhaled sharply through his large nose, cocking his head to the side.

“Christ. This what you wanna do right now, huh?”

Returning his glare with just as much vehemence, you let out a dry and humorless laugh as you gestured around loosely.

“No, Frank. This isn’t what I want-”

“Look you wanna keep bustin’ my goddamn balls, fine. But do it from the truck, yeah? You can antagonize me with your bullshit all you want while I drive, but we got somewhere to be.”

Clenching your jaw, your hands balled into frustrated fists at your sides. For a moment the two of you were locked in some kind of silent staring contest. You were so sick of every conversation with Frank lately turning into an argument that ended with the two of you at each other’s throats. You didn’t have the patience to combat his stubborn dedication to being a self righteous asshole. Gritting your teeth, you stormed forward and grabbed your own bag as you brushed past him out your front door, swearing under your breath.

“Dick.”

Frank pursed his full lips and nodded his head, turning around to follow you after forcefully shutting your front door behind himself.

“Yeah yeah, get in the goddamn truck.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[solkara]

❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐄𝐘𝐄 , alicent hightower and rhaenyra targaryen ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , being blind was a blessing and a curse that you had to navigate from a young age but you were lucky to have two friend's willing to do anything for you

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , alicent hightower x fem! blind! reader x rhaenyra targaryen

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , this was actually meant to be a one and done this but I think I'm gonna make it a two part so I can write it to the best of my ability without being rushed !!

house of the dragon masterlist , next part

⌗ you weren't always blind. you had your sight till you were age ten. when an assassination attempt gone wrong left you blinded. and since that day people only looked at you for what you had lost. not for what you had left. all they seven kingdoms saw a poor fragile high born girl with no sight.

⌗ but your best friends rhaenyra and alicent didn't. they saw you as more than your blindness. and dare you say they were the reason you had gotten though some of the darkest moments in your life. going out of their way to include you in everything they did.

⌗ walking hand and hand with you through the castle. reading your favourite stories. telling you the lastest court gossip. and showering you with gifts when your spirits were low. the greatest gift they ever gave you besides their friendship was your cane.

⌗ made of snow-white wood with a silver ornament on top of your house crest. over time you learn how to see without actually seeing. by tapping or banging your cane you would listen to the vibrations and gauge how near or far everything in the room was. and over time you got use to the darkness. finding a strange comfort in it.

⌗ life was good. you had everything you needed. but there was one thing that gnawed at you. something you craved that you knew you would never get. marriage. as being blind made you damaged goods and their for unwedable. meaning you would never have a family of your own.

⌗ your best friends noticing your sadness asked you what was wrong. as they watched you break down into tears and sniffles. the two held you as your tears fell. and once you were calm enough they began soothing you insecurities. "one day the seven shall grant you your wish" "you will make an amazing mother"

⌗ but deep down the two knew that they were far too in love with you to allow you to be wed off to a man. that most definitely did not deserve you. not like they did. and gradually over time their beautiful friendship bloomed into a beautiful romance.

⌗ with soft touches and gentle kisses. late night conversations about the future ahead of them. but all that came crashing down when alicent married viserys. rhaenyra was incensed and you were confused. how could this have happened? while you tried to hear alicent out the targaryen wouldn't listen to a word of it. dragging you away so you wouldn't have to either.

⌗ and so began the tug of war over you. with neither the hightower and targaryen willing to give up. though your time was mostly monopolised by rhaenyra. with the white-haired girl rarely ever leaving your side. spending countless nights in your room. but alicent still managed to find ways to see you. and though you still couldn't forgive her fully for betraying your trust. you did try your best to be there for her.

⌗ you were there when she gave birth to all her children. a comforting hand as she screamed and writhed in pain. stroking her hair and kissing her hand. whispering words of comfort in an attempt to soothe the girl who you still had so much love for. but that became so much more difficult once rhaenyra started having children.

⌗ that was when alicent's resentment how come she was being punished for doing her duty. while rhaenyra could bear bastard children and go unpunished. she got everything. the love of her father. the title of heir. you. oh how she hated how she had gotten you. how she manipulated you into staying by her side with her and her bastard children.

⌗ the hightower couldn't understand how you could still stand beside her. after she willingly betrayed you for another man and bore his children. unlike alicent who never wanted to have viserys children but had to out of duty. though she never really saw her children as viserys. as in her mind they were yours and hers.

⌗ and she was tired of you being taken away from her. so tonight she was going to do something about him. so under the cover of night she went to see you. slipping into your room she watched as you lay peacefully in bed. you looked so peaceful in nothing but a white silk nightgown. approaching the bed alicent slipped under the covers with you.

⌗ her hands immediately began exploring the body she had been denied for so long. closing her eyes alicent couldn't help but bury her nose in your hair. inhaling that comforting scent that seamlessly brought her comfort. wishing for nothing more than to drown in it. but as the hightower allowed herself to get lost in the touch smell and taste of you against her lips and body she hadn't noticed that you had started to stir in you sleep. "nyra?" you said in a hushed mumble.

⌗ alicent said nothing in response. as she silently lulled you back to sleep. seething that you called out of rhaenyra and not her. as the auburn continued to touch and kiss you as you slept she failed to realise that another figure had entered the room. and had left just as quickly. but all alicent saw was a sliver of white hair.

⌗ and by the time the next morning had came alicent was still laying next to you. but left before you woke up. as she walked back to her room with a pep in her step she bumped into the last person she wanted to see rhaenyra who smirked at her like she had been blessed by the gods. and a few moments later she found out why. as the good mood alicent hightower came crashing down.

⌗ you were leaving with rhaenyra and her family to dragonstone. and there was nothing she could do about it. alicent cried for hours after hearing the news. even going as far as to get on her hands and knees in front of you in an attempt to get you to stay. but to no avail. as once again rhaenyra had gotten what she wanted.

anon , Could I request (if it's alright with you ofc ) Blind Reader X Rhaenyra and Alicent (or one of them ) OR Visenya and Rhaenys . Readers blindness is due to R saving them ? Now, reader is a strategist or hand on the council ? If the idea is okay with you ofc , anything you wish 🙂

[cassie48]

𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗲𝗻

King Hal x fem reader.

A/N: In which the king isn’t happy with how his wife, the queen is treated.

(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(

You were chosen to be queen. Hal himself wanted you. But, in some ways, a lot of ways actually, you felt you weren’t meant to be a queen. You were very quiet and innocent, to scared to correct someone or stand up for yourself.

Now, Hal was always there to stand up for you, he was really very protective of you. He threatened men that mocked you, and declared to the people of England that you were his wife, and that they must accept that.

On this particular day, you were sat on a bench in a secluded area of the gardens, hiding from everyone, crying. Earlier that day there had been an incident, leading you to hide away from your husband and those he would send to look for you.

You had been on a stroll, earlier that day. You often went on strolls when Hal would have meetings. On this particular morning, you bumped into a man that served Paul. He was a sort of advisor and helped him stay in order. George, was his name.

You had never really warmed to him, as he constantly made you uncomfortable. He would send you odd looks, when Hal wasn’t looking, sometimes in places that no man but Hal should be looking.

“Sorry George” You said looking at the ground.

“Oh it’s fine your majesty, it’s my fault” he said with a disgusting smirk.

“Do you know where Hal is?” Your sweet voice said, wanting to see your husband.

“He’s busy right now” he told you.

You nodded turning to continue on your walk, when his voice continued.

“I could accompany you, you know” George said not even bothering to address you respectfully.

“Oh, it’s fine, really” you said going to turn.

“Are you sure, I’d like to” he said, clearly wanting you to agree to go with him.

“No really, it would be…improper” you said, with a polite smile, trying to leave.

But, to your shock, he grabbed your upper arm roughly, tracing his finger over your body.

“From what I’ve heard, you’re quite the improper girl” he whispered, his fingers sickly travelling all over you.

“W-What?” You said your voice trembling, pulling back slightly, but it didn’t work.

“The men talk, say that you’ve been quite 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳” he said with a menacing smile.

This was when you lost it, you stared to ball your eyes out, ripping yourself away from his hold, running off to hide in the gardens, crying as you did, that’s where you found the little bench.

(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.O)(O.

At that same time, Paul was leaving his meeting room, going to see you in your chambers. This was a daily routine for him, he truly loved him.

But a scowl made its way on his face when you weren’t there. “Where is the queen?” He yelled at the servants in the room.

“We, aren’t sure, your majesty” a man answered staring at the ground in fear.

“Is it not your job to take care of her when I’m not?” He yelled rage dripping from his voice as he grew more worried.

“Find her” he demanded with a cold voice.

They all scrambled, running in all directions to search for you, fearing for their lives if they didn’t.

Around an hour later, there was still no sign of you, Hal was getting very impatient. So he went to look for you himself.

He knew your favourite places in the castle and he knew one of which was the gardens, so he made his way there. He had searched almost all the gardens, until her heard a soft crying.

Hal eventually found you on that bench, as soon as he saw you, he was 𝘔𝘢𝘥.

“My love? What’s wrong?” He asked as he sat on the bench too, placing you on his lap.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, continuing to cry loudly into his chest.

“Are you hurt?” He asked with a concerned look on his face.

You nodded your head no and hugged onto him tighter, as the tears fell down your face.

“Love, you have to tell me what’s wrong, so I can fix it” he said kissing your head.

“It was…g-george” you cried.

“What about 𝘎𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦?” He said, his face suddenly becoming cold.

“He, he said I was an improper lady! And h-he was touching me Hal” you hiccuped.

Hals phase froze in anger and shock. George was in the room when Hal first threatened everyone about going near his wife. He made it very clear she was to be shown respect. George was one of his most trusted men. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

“I’ll deal with him, this won’t happen again” he said kissing your hand.

You eventually lifted your head from his chest, as he wiped your tears from your cheeks.

“C-Can we go for a walk?” Your gentle voice asked.

“Of course, anything for you” Hal answered lifting her off his lap onto the ground, and taking her hand in his.

They walked the grounds talking about everything and anything, happy to be in each others company.

You hugged his side, yawning, suddenly becoming very tired.

“Do you want to retire” he said, his arm around your waist.

You only nodded in response, and you both headed back to your chambers.

He ordered the maids to run a bath for you, before kissing you softly, telling you he had something to take care of, and he’d be back later.

Around one hour later, you lay in the bath, the bubbles covering your naked body, and your eyes closed, enjoying the heat.

The door swung open to reveal your husband once more, but this time with blood on his hands.

“Hal?” Your little voice squeaked.

“It’s not my blood, I only took care of something that needed to be handled” he said sitting beside you, and giving you a kiss on the forehead.

You nodded, your eyes heavy as you leaned into his touch. You yearned to be in bed.

Hal caught onto this, and ordered the maids to help you prepare for bed, and get into your nightdress.

“What did you do to him, George I mean” you whispered, playing with your fingers.

Hal smiled before saying “I taught him a lesson” and giving you a long kiss, and bidding you goodnight.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭,

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯.

A/n

I hope you all enjoyed, I’ve been wanting to write for Hal for some time now so finally I did!!

[p0orbaby]

Could you write something about reader having surgery? Leah worrying about her & getting super stressed out x

-

Leah’s pacing. Of course she is. She’s wearing the trainers that squeak on the hospital floor, the ones you begged her to throw away three months ago. “They’ve got character,” she said then, like that was a reasonable argument for keeping footwear that sounded like an off-brand comedy gag every time she took a step. Now, the sound feels like a metronome for her anxiety.

She’s also muttering under her breath, something about waiting rooms being designed to drive people mad. “Why is there always a random fish tank?” she asks no one in particular, gesturing at the gurgling monstrosity in the corner. “Like, is that meant to be calming? Watching a clownfish swim into a plastic castle?”

Kim, who you bullied into babysitting Leah while you’re in surgery, hums noncommittally and sips her tea. It’s the worst thing she could’ve done because it prompts Leah to snap, “You’re too calm. Why are you so calm?”

“Because it’s a routine procedure,” Kim replies, her tone so even it borders on condescending. “She’ll be fine, Leah”

But Leah doesn’t look convinced. She crosses her arms, leans against the wall, then decides against it and resumes pacing. “Routine doesn’t mean risk-free,” she mutters. “What if they mix up her file with someone else’s? What if they give her a kidney transplant instead of fixing her knee?”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” Kim asks, barely suppressing a laugh.

Leah whirls around. “Anything’s possible, Kim. Hospitals are chaos. I’ve read articles”

Kim just shakes her head and goes back to scrolling her phone, clearly regretting agreeing to this.

Leah’s still fidgeting when the surgeon finally appears. The man is smiling, calm and professional, but she doesn’t let her guard down. Not even when he says, “The operation went smoothly. She’s in recovery now”

“Define smoothly,” Leah demands, squinting at him like he’s lying. “No complications? No close calls? You didn’t drop anything inside her, did you?”

“Leah!” Kim hisses, mortified.

The surgeon, to his credit, only blinks. “She’s fine,” he repeats, clearly accustomed to this brand of hysteria. “You can see her shortly”

Leah doesn’t wait. She marches down the hall like she’s storming the pitch, the squeaking of her trainers echoing behind her.

When she reaches your room, you’re half-conscious, propped up in bed with a silly-looking hospital gown that does nothing for your dignity. Your eyes flutter open at the sound of her trainers, and you manage a groggy smile.

“You’re here,” you mumble, your voice sluggish from the anaesthetic.

“Of course I’m here,” Leah says, pulling a chair up to your bedside. “How do you feel? Do you need water? Ice? A lawyer in case something went wrong?”

You blink at her, too out of it to process her rambling. “I think they gave me morphine. I feel amazing”

Leah exhales sharply, her hands twitching like she wants to touch you but isn’t sure where. “Good. That’s good. You look… fine. A bit pale. But fine”

“Thanks,” you slur. “You look sexy”

She finally smiles, though it’s small and a little wobbly. “You scared the hell out of me, you know”

You try to reach for her hand but miss by a mile. “Sorry. Love you”

Her expression softens, and she takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “Love you too. Just… don’t ever make me do this again, yeah?”

“No promises,” you mumble, already drifting back to sleep.

Leah stays by your side the entire time, even when the nurse comes in and politely asks her to stop squeaking her trainers against the floor.

[yeokii]

SAND CASTLES AND FIRST LOVES — PARK SUNGHOON

synopsis . a day at the beach was for relaxing and also apparently for meeting your first love?

psh : new kid! sunghoon x fmr O.8K — fluff, crack ❨ warnings ❩ 🫧 teeth rotting fluff I PUKED. 𓍼 note — chat can u tell im tweakinh┆(bookshelf)

The sun iced your hands as you squinted your eyes under the hot weather. It was perfect. All you could do was sit down and relax and just babysit your sister? Right? It couldn't be that hard to watch over a five year old.

But one small thing you quite forgot was how hyper that little brat could be. Now you were stuck in being the little devil's assistant in help make her numerous sandcastles.

"Y/n! Don't you think that one is a bit crooked?" Your little sister pointed at the sand castle that you just made.

You dramatically sighed at your sister's remarks, "Jeez, wouldn't hurt for a compliment."

"Crooked towers don't get compliments!" Your sister huffed, "Now get to work." She said and continued making more sand castles, filling the mold with the damp sand sitting on the land.

You oughta throw her into the ocean if you could, but you stayed calm and followed the boss's orders.

Just as it started to get calm with no more snarky remarks from your little sister and calm waves crashing the sand near you, you were towered by a tall, slim figure.

Before you could even let out a warning, one of your precious sandcastles were toppled down by the boy's feet. Your sister didn't seem to care as she continued to make more sand figures to compliment her sandy mansion, but that was the one that you were most proud of so you knew you had to give him a piece of your mind.

"Hey! Watch it!" You stood up to face the rude boy, your hands on resting at your hips.

The boy turned around and you realised that it was the new kid in your school. Sunghoon looked youthful and charming as ever, his dark hair was slightly tousled from the breeze.

But the thing that caught your attention the most was the genuine look in his eyes, "I'm really sorry about that." He said, looking at the destroyed sandcastle.

"Oh— no it's fine!" You awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of your head after resizing you just screamed at the cutest boy you met.

"No really," He smiled sincerely. "Let me fix it." He knelt down, ready to fix the structure of the sandcastle.

"You don't have to do that you know," You giggled, kneeling down to his level. "I've seen you around..."

He furrowed his eyebrows and shot his eyes at you.

"Oh no! Not like that." You laughed once again. "I meant at school. New kid, yeah?"

He chuckled with you, nodding his head. "How come I've never seen your pretty face around?"

Oh jeez.

You blushed at his flirty remark, shrugging your shoulders not really knowing what to say.

"Hey! Stop flirting and get back to making the sandcastles. New kid, quick!" The little devil sassed, making your eyes widened.

"Shut up!" You whisper-screamed at her and looked back at Sunghoon with a sheepish smile, "Sorry about her. She gets a bit bossy sometimes."

"No she's right." He laughed, "Sorry miss, I'll get straight onto it." He said, trying to fix the sandcastle as quick as possible which made a snicker escape from you.

Sunghoon looked back up at you, finding your giggles really cute. The way your hair ever so slightly brushed against your face due to the light breeze and the sun slightly reflecting in your eyes, making it twinkle just might've been the cherry onto to make his heart skip a beat.

Gosh, you looked really pretty.

He was in a daze watching you make some sandcastles, craving out the minute details onto it with a slight smile fixed onto your face. He slowly panned it to your little sister staring dead straight at him.

Sunghoon went right back to the sandcastle he was fixing, clearing his throat hoping your little sister would be a little less intimidating.

"There, all done." He smiled, while getting back up.

"Hmm, good job new kid." Your little sister crossed her arms together. "It's better than Y/n's" She giggled, making you glare at her.

"Thank you though," You thanked him once again.

"No it's my fault." He brushed it off, "How about I make it up to you? What about some ice cream?"

You smiled at the request, "Of course, I'd love to."

"Me too." Your sister butted in as she walking closer to Sunghoon making him giggle.

"Sure princess." Sunghoon said, ruffled her hair and looked back at you. His warm brown eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

As you three walked away to head to an ice cream stand, Sunghoon stayed close by your side. He knew he didn't need to say nothing more; the look in his eyes said it all. And as your arm gently brushed against his, you suddenly became aware of how close you were.

And that today might be the day you would never forget, the summer leaving a fresh stain in your mind—the summer where you met your first love.

tags . @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @redm4ri @hanniluvi @haechansbbg @taejaysreads @shinunoga-iie-wa @teddywonss @naespas @isoobie @dimplewonie @jennaissantes @aishigrey