#the first chapter is rarely ever the most exciting part of a story

[crabsnpersimmons]

halfway through chapter 1 i think!

hopefully it'll be ready for after your presentation!

i hope you write (i hope we both write)

[1d1195]

My Friend's Toyota I

🎶 here she is! Based on the song of the same name, by Asiris 💕 I wanted to write this before spring arrived. It's just a few parts (I'm thinking 4 right now) only because the first part got so long 🤭

~8k words

Warnings: college!Harry but otherwise none really. Just wanted to write a cute romantic story. Maybe the tiniest bit of angst (but maybe not in this part just yet). This part is a little ramble-y but I promise it'll come together quick.

But this... angel he had bumped into...

She was going to star in all his fantasies now.

Can’t believe September’s already over / Looked for stars and I found a supernova / praying to God that I can hold her close / ‘Cause I know she’s worried ‘bout the snow / She said “Darling, should I bring a coat?”

Harry thought he was more excited to go to university than anyone had ever been. “For drinking right?” his friends from school asked with a laugh. They chatted about it all the time during the summer before they all left their hometown in favor of the new chapter of their lives. Harry liked drinking, sure. It was fun but he enjoyed hanging out with his friends more. At least when they were in university they wouldn’t be drinking illegally anymore.

But Harry was a bit of a hopeless romantic.

He believed university was the surefire way to meet the love of his life. The person who would knock him off his feet, make his heart grow three sizes too big for his chest, and simply just... feel like he was right where he was supposed to be.

The first semester of university came and went.

Harry didn’t meet the love of his life.

He had Mitch. His roommate and one of his best friends from home. But Mitch was in love with their friend Sarah and unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same way about Mitch as Sarah felt about him. But that was okay. He still had lots of time to find the person that would make his stomach flutter.

But spring semester came and went too.

Harry tried to find her. He went on dates with several women he met in classes and at parties. He heard the whispers and rumors about him. It made him a little sad that some of the women he went out with never corrected the rumors. His longest relationships were no more than a month, but Harry couldn’t help it that he didn’t feel the spark he was looking for and ended things before they really got going.

It was supposed to be all-encompassing. Make him breathless. Knock him to his knees. Maybe he was being ridiculous. At the age of almost twenty he was being unrealistic to want something like that. He was young. There was plenty of time for love.

But was it so bad that he wanted it now?

His dorm room with Mitch was a suite and they each had their own rooms. They decorated the main room with the help of Sarah to make it homey (and also stopped them before they used empty vodka bottles as décor). Their dorm was one of the “party” dorms, but they rarely hosted. Harry and Mitch wanted their place to be a safe place. It rarely saw more than ten people—and that was only when he and Mitch were pre-gaming with other friends to go to a party off campus. Sometimes Harry brought his friends back if they had too much to drink. It made him feel better knowing they were in a safe place. Sarah even brought back a girl that was too drunk to make any good decisions of her own accord. Harry minded over her with worry because the poor thing was all but sobbing as she threw up most of the night and whined about how sad she was.

Harry actually dated her for about a month after—some kind of savior complex that he should have known doomed their relationship from the start.

So, he kept waiting to find the love of his life. But he couldn’t help but feel discouraged as he complained to his mum and Gemma over the summer that he didn’t find her that first year.

“Honey bunny, it’s too early to think like that,” Anne smirked. “You’re so young.”

He shrugged. “I guess. M’jus’... Mitch has Sarah,” he reminded them.

“I know, but...” Gemma smiled sadly at him. “You’re not Mitch. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen.”

Well Harry didn’t meet her the following year either. Twenty came and went. He continued hearing rumors about his body count. The only ones ready to defend him ever was Mitch and Sarah but he simply didn’t care. The girls he met at parties, bars, in class, they all continued to flirt with him and when Harry felt the hope of a spark, he chose to pursue it—not because of the rumors, not because he felt like he had to in order to find the love of his life, simply because he was young and enjoying his life.

But September of his third year.

Oh.

*

Harry was appalled that as a third-year student, any of his major professors deigned to have an eight-AM class. It felt like death as he walked with the throng of people headed to the correct buildings when the sun was barely high in the sky. His eyes felt droopy, and he was certain he yawned the entire walk from dorm room to classroom.

His backpack was slung over his shoulders. He shouldn’t have gone out last night. He wasn’t hungover, but he was just so tired. The chance of meeting the love of his life could have been at that party. That wasn’t an opportunity he was willing to miss.

“I told you,” Mitch muttered to him liking eight-AMs more than the average college student. Get it out of the way. He stuck his foot out causing Mitch to stumble a bit and he smirked with a low chuckle. “Idiot,” Mitch grumbled.

Harry didn’t know what he wanted to do with his degree yet. Another component of divine intervention he was hoping would appear in front of him. Love and career. He hoped the universe would help him figure both out sooner rather than later.

Mitch veered off to his own building and Harry counted down the minutes until he could trek back to his dorm room. Harry was yawning—again—and shook his head trying to perk himself up as he made it to the building where his classroom resided on his schedule.

Harry chose a seat in the back of the room. Put his head on the desk and tried not to think about how his bed might be his real soulmate.

*

Harry was much more awake now that his professor had re-sparked his interest in microeconomics. All his classes were econ-based this year and he was honestly super excited to look at different facets of his major and maybe that was divine intervention. He had four required economic electives: sports, law, history, and statistics. Additionally, he would be taking a math class that was a pre-requisite to the class he needed for next semester. He tried not to think about it too much.

With a pep in his step, he no longer felt like going back to his dorm and sleeping as he told Mitch he would be doing instead of joining him for breakfast. He wanted to go to his next class or the bookstore. He wanted to geek out over the intro lecture he just heard to someone that would care and wouldn’t brush off his nerdiness. What he really wanted was someone to kiss at the end of the day and tell him all about their classes and ask what he wanted to do for dinner—whether it was dining hall food or a date in town.

“Hi Harry,” someone called as he fantasized about his little dream life. He didn’t even see who it was, so he turned to catch a glimpse.

“Hi—” he started to call politely. If it was someone he knew, he didn’t want to be rude. As he turned, he must have shifted into the path of someone else’s walk to class. He bumped into someone with about half of his body. He knocked her phone out of her hand. Also made her stumble off the sidewalk a bit. “Oh, sorry, love,” he said bending for her phone before she could. The water bottle she had tucked in her bag also fell to the ground. “Are you alright?” He was hopeful he didn’t hurt her, but who knows, she could have tweaked her ankle on the edge of the walk and Harry would have felt horrendous for the whole rest of the day.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” her voice was a bit rushed. “I just transferred here this semester, and I’m all turned around and I’m going to be late—”

Harry glanced up at her having gathered her belongings from the dewy grass and finally caught her gaze. She stopped speaking when Harry looked at her. He swore his heart stopped. They were off the sidewalk, now. People were walking quickly to and from their classes. Harry could feel the gaze of people who knew him as he walked by. Trying to figure out who the girl was he was talking to.

Harry knew he hadn’t found the love of his life yet due to lack of connection. They liked Harry well enough, and he honestly was fortunate to have had a few girlfriends who were kind, intelligent, and pretty. Those he had dated the past two years simply didn’t scratch that itch for the fantasy he had: asking about his day, telling him about hers, and what did they want to do for dinner.

But this... angel he had bumped into...

She was going to star in all his fantasies now.

They hadn’t spoken in thirty seconds while Harry dreamed of happily ever after with her. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Where are y’headed?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head rapidly and pulled her phone from his hands. Harry tried to memorize everything about this moment. The concentrated expression on her face while she scanned her phone screen. “Umm... Livingston 210,” she sighed. “Am I going the complete wrong way?” She asked nervously. “God this is so embarrassing. I spent all day yesterday walking around trying to map out my paths and I had to park in a different lot, and I am the worst with maps and directions,” she rambled.

“No, no,” Harry shook his head. “S’this way. Let me walk you,” he offered. “You’re fine,” he promised glancing at his own watch. “You’ll... you’ll be early,” he reassured her.

She blew out a relieved breath. “Really? Don’t you have a class to get to?” She asked. “I don’t want to put you out—”

He shook his head quickly. “No, not... not at all, love,” he murmured. “M’happy t’do it. Got a break before m’next class.”

Her face took on this gorgeous smile that Harry wasn’t sure he would ever be able to forget. The relief was palpable. It seemed almost excessive, like he was a doctor and told her that she wasn’t ill and not that her class was only about a three-minute walk. But Harry adored that smile. The way her eyes lit up along with the curve of her lips. “Thank you, so so much. I’m so nervous and know absolutely no one—except my roommate. But she doesn’t have class until noon. Plus, my transfer credits went in late last week so the schedule I had planned is all different than the one I made in June. I really almost considered just leaving and transferring back—”

He chuckled at her little ramble. He liked it a lot. Way more than he probably should have for having met her only ninety seconds prior. He wondered if she always did that. The need to find out was nearly unbearable. How could he prolong the conversation? How could he get her number in the next two minutes it took her to walk to her class? “C’mon,” he tilted his head toward the direction he had come from.

Was he being ridiculous? Maybe.

But this was what he wanted. The way his heart stopped. He couldn’t ignore that. Was he holding his breath? Was she feeling the same warm tension that was covering his entire body with the need to look at her? This was it. She hadto be it. The love of his life. The first day of third year. His heart felt... whole.

“Oh good, this is familiar,” she sighed with relief. Chuckling, Harry held the building door open for her to pass through. “Do you like candy?” She asked as she entered.

Blinking curiously, Harry wondered if she had some conversation in her head that he wasn’t privy to that resulted in such a question. “M’sorry?”

“Candy?”

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” he smiled at her curiously.

“Okay, I’ll get you candy as a thank you for walking me, then,” she promised with an assured nod of her head.

Harry was floored by her kindness to a stranger. It made him feel so overwhelmed that he ignored how ridiculous it all seemed for him to act like this. So that meant she wanted to see him again. He chuckled. “Y’don’t have t’do that, love. S’not out of m’way,” he reminded her.

“I know... but you don’t know me, and you look important.”

“Look important?” He repeated dumbly and gestured to the stairwell for her to ascend. He followed beside her hoping he didn’t look as creepy as he felt feeling so overwhelmed with how he already felt about her.

“I don’t know, everyone was staring at you while we walked over,” she shrugged.

He smirked. But he was surprised he missed that. Usually, he noticed when people called out to him.  “Everyone?”

She nodded. “I think a few people even did a double take,” she explained. “So, you must be important.”

He rolled his eyes with another little laugh from his lips. “Uh...I don’t think m’important,” he admitted. They stood a few feet away from the door labeled 210. “S’really no trouble. I jus’ left m’eight AM from here,” he promised. “Was jus’ going t’get breakfast. M’happy t’help.”

“Well, thank you. I really appreciate it. I promise I’ll get you candy,” she said glancing at her watch and then the classroom door. “I like to get a good seat for the lecture. I’ll... see you around...?” She waited for him to fill in the missing information.

“Harry,” he said wiping his hand on his leg before holding it out for her to take. The first time he would touch who he was certain was the love of his life.

“Harry,” she repeated, placing her hand in his while introducing herself as well. “I’ll see you around.”

His heart was aching with something that had to be a cross between infatuation and undeniable love. Her hand felt so nice in his and it was just a handshake. Imagining their fingers twined together made him ache with want. “Wait,” he said right as her hand touched the doorknob. “Where’s y’next class?” He asked. She pulled her phone from her pocket and opened her schedule. “Uh... Sawyer,” she said reading off her phone. Harry’s heart leapt. “312.”

He felt tingles all through his body. From fingertip to his stomach, to the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. “Yeah?” He asked rhetorically. The question was more for the universe; it’s way of telling Harry she was here. “I’ll walk you,” he promised. “We’re in the same class.”

She turned her face briefly from him—maybe an effort to hide the blush that was covering her cheeks and making Harry fall even harder for her. “Yeah?” She wondered.

He nodded. “I’ll meet y’at the front of the building when class gets out, yeah?”

She smiled. “Okay, thanks, Harry,” she sighed with relief heading through the doorway. “Enjoy your break,” she called over her shoulder.

Harry floated back down the steps. Honestly, he wanted to wait outside her classroom, but he just met her, and he wanted—no needed—this to work. Wanted it to work more than anything. The smile plastered on his face had his cheeks hurting but he couldn’t stop. He nearly sprinted to the closest dining hall where he told Mitch he would meet him for breakfast.

“Sorry, m’late. I jus’ met the woman m’going t’marry,” his voice was all airy, falling into a seat beside Mitch with a dreamy look on his face.

“Whoa,” Mitch chuckled. “You look sick.”

“I feel sick,” he laid down onto a second chair. Backpack still on. He looked like an idiot, but he couldn’t help it. He was in love.

“Glad you met her, Harry. Finally, right? Can you act like an adult?” Mitch muttered cutting up the waffle he had on his plate. Sitting up he smiled at his friend.

“We have class together next.”

“Isn’t that your math class?” He wondered. He thought about the schedule Harry was insistent about putting on the fridge so they could find each other if needed while at home. For emergencies. But Mitch didn’t understand why the schedule needed to be on the fridge if Harry made him commit it to memory anyway.

“Yeah, so?”

“You hate math.”

“No one likes math,” he grumbled.

“Maybe she does. Maybe she’s not your soulmate.”

“Shut up,” he dropped his bag in his seat and headed to get food. Upon returning with his tray, about three other people said hello to him. One girl stopped him asking if he was coming to her party this weekend and one of the guys that he knew from his pickup soccer games asked if he was available tomorrow night for a game at the rec field. “If she likes math then... jus’ mean she completes me. Still m’soulmate,” he shrugged.

“You got an answer for everything,” Mitch laughed.

*

Harry found her sitting on the barrier wall to the mini garden outside the building. One of her legs stretched along the length of the cement ledge and the other dangled off the side. With the need to get her to class on time, Harry didn’t have time to ogle her at all. But now, as he approached her, he noted she was wearing a pair of jeans and a pair of trainers. Obviously, her worry about being late to class must have meant she considered sprinting if it got late enough. Her T-shirt was this light orange-pink color. Like she was modeling a sunset. She had a book propped on her thigh and she leaned over reading, like she was simultaneously doing yoga while reading.

“Hey,” he called. Her head perked up and she smiled, putting a bookmark in between the pages and swinging her leg over to say hi.

“Hi!” She chirped excitedly. “I was afraid I missed you when I ran back inside.”

Back inside? He frowned. “Did y’class end early?”

“Yeah... almost a half hour ago,” she shrugged hopping off the ledge. “Syllabus and all. Doesn’t happen that often to me—I’m majoring in accounting and finance, so all my classes just jump right into the lectures and lessons. But this is a sociology class that my other school didn’t offer but I have to take here to graduate,” she explained with an eyeroll. “They were insistent.”

“M’sorry y’had to wait,” he frowned.

“Don’t be sorry,” she smiled. “I got to read a bit and—oh!” She twisted her backpack around her body and into the zip pocket. She retrieved whatever item she was looking for and held it out for him to take. “For walking me,” her voice was so sweet.

Harry felt his jaw fall open just a bit as she placed the Twix bar in his hand. “Twix is my favorite, but I got Starbursts too if that’s more your vibe. Reese’s if you like peanut butter. I wanted a variety just in case and it won’t go to waste regardless—”

“Twix is m’favorite, too,” he said turning the bar over in his hands. He looked up at her as if she really was placed right in his path. Fate. Out of nowhere. Like a star exploding out in the universe and dropping this angel in its spot.

She smiled. “Excellent,” she said. “Where’s Sawyer, then?” She asked while zipping her bag again and heading toward the walkway when he walked her to the building earlier. “I want a good seat,” she reminded him. Since she got him his favorite candy bar—and simply because she existed and was without a doubt going to be his favorite, period—he wanted to make sure she got the seat she wanted.

He wanted to make sure she got whatever she wanted.

*

Was it normal to want to hold someone’s hand like this? Harry’s immediate thought was no. It wasn’t normal. Wanting to hold hands with someone the way he was craving to hold her hand had to be the most abnormal thing in existence. Every Tuesday and Thursday for the next three weeks, he waited outside Livingston, watching her descend the front staircase to the main floor. They chatted the entire ten-minute walk to Sawyer where they shared a math class. She insisted on sitting closer to the front than Harry would ever consider but he was immediately enamored with how sweet she was and there was no way he could let someone else sit beside her.

Tuesdays and Thursdays were slowly becoming his favorite days of the week. They were his weekend even with a packed schedule on the two days. Talking to her was everything he had been longing for the last two years of school.

On Sunday, he slept until almost ten-thirty. He was lying in bed while scrolling through his array of social media and other correspondences. He heard the shower running, so either Sarah or Mitch must have been well after a night of drinking.

Three weeks. After three weeks of pining and walking her to and from class, he got an email on a Sunday.

The subject line read: Be-Twix you and me I’m glad we’re friends. He threw himself out of his bed and paced the main room trying to figure out if it was Mitch or Sarah in the shower. He knocked. “Sarah!”

“Sorry, Harry. She’s sleeping,” Mitch called.

He opened the door anyway. “She emailed me.”

“How 2002 of her,” he snorted.

“You’re useless,” Harry grumbled closing the door shut. He truly considered barging into Mitch’s room and waking Sarah for a girl’s opinion but after doing the very same and seeing way more than he was supposed to of his two friends, he opted for figuring it out himself. He vaguely wondered if there was a way to open an email faster. He must have read it a thousand times and it was only four sentences long.

Hi Harry!

I was wondering if you would want to study for our exam together? I like having someone to study with, but if that’s not your vibe I understand :) Let me know either way! This is my number if you would prefer texting.

Harry thought there were no prettier ten numbers than the ones that formed her phone number. He was immediately ready to text her but luckily had the wherewithal of checking the time stamp of the email to see if he was looking desperate but struggling to care. Fortunately, the email was from a little after seven-thirty.

He could have chatted with her for three hours longer if he hadn’t slept so late.

Hi, it’s Harry 😊

Hi! Glad my email didn’t scare you off. My roommate said that my Twix pun was horrendous.

It’s adorable. Thank you for emailing. I’d love to study. I work until five... I can meet you somewhere?

Do you like coffee?

I love coffee 😊

Do you think it will be cold around five? I’m still getting used to the weather around here. I want to bring a coat.

Harry made a mental note to pack an extra sweatshirt in case she got too cold. Can’t hurt to bring one. You never know what the weather will do around here.

*

Forty minutes a week.

Forty blissful, perfect minutes in the month of September had been spent chatting with the stranger that bumped into her on the first day of the fall semester. The sun was warm despite the breeze chilling her skin. It wasn’t nearly enough time but she somehow managed to fall incredibly hard for him anyway.

It was a bit ridiculous.

Her roommate—and only friend—was also a transfer student. However, Allie was much more outgoing than she was. That wasn’t to say she didn’t have fun; it was just different than how Allie enjoyed herself. Allie made friends everywhere she went. Their off-campus but university-owned apartment was always in flux of visitors from her classes, her club tennis team, or just someone she met while eating lunch in the dining hall between classes.

Allie was a good judge of character though, so she never worried about someone of bad rapport traipsing through their place. Also, Allie was always sure to keep everyone away from her room, of course.

But Allie had no problem flopping on her bed around ten in the morning and nosily glancing over her shoulder. She had left her email open anxiously waiting for a reply from the most handsome guy she had ever had the pleasure of meeting. “Be-Twix?! Sweetie, that’s atrocious,” she rolled her eyes. She groaned in response.

“I... I don’t know,” her face felt hot with shame. She really liked Harry. “It seemed like a good idea at the time... maybe that’s why he’s not answering me,” she frowned.

“Maybe he just sleeps like a normal college student and doesn’t wake up at the ass-crack of dawn,” she said knowingly patting her knee reassuringly.

“Have you seen the leaves?” She whispered almost in awe. “I went for a walk to get a bagel and—”

“I’ve seen them,” Allie smiled with a shake of her head at her silly friend. The adoration she had for little things was admirable, sweet, and just... if Harry Styles broke her heart, she would break his face. “I lived here my whole life, remember?”

But she didn’t live here her whole life. So, she was in awe—her first true fall since she was a toddler that she didn’t even remember. There were pictures of her jumping into a pile of leaves with her mom that her dad had just painstakingly raked. The south didn’t have pretty leaves like this in the fall. Palm leaves didn’t change color other than wilting brown when it was too hot. She intended to spend every minute looking at the beautiful hues of orange, red, and yellow so as not to miss the pretty season she hadn’t gotten to enjoy for most of her life.

After another agonizing thirty minutes of waiting for him to respond (and breathing with sweet relief that he did want to see her later) she told Harry that she was worried about it being cold later in the evening. She had grown up closer to the Tropic of Cancer which was now roughly 15 degrees south of her current latitude. She hated the heat; it made her skin feel dirty and oily with sweat all summer long. Her hair was too thick, her skin naturally too warm. Just thinking about her thighs sticking to her leather car seat in July was horrific.

But her parents had grown up and met here on this pretty autumn-picturesque campus. Somewhere not quite freezing (at least not yet, so she had been told) but not quite suffocating with heat like home. They left here when she was two to situate themselves in Hell’s sauna room. After taking the general requirement classes at a state school, she wanted to transfer up north to the university where her parents fell in love. Call her a hopeless romantic, but if she hadn’t found the love of her life amongst the bathing suit, half-clad guys on the beach during the last two spring breaks, then he probably wasn’t in the south. Instead, she hoped she might find him around the ski slopes.

She hadn’t anticipated finding Harry before her first class started.

Forty minutes.

That was how much time Harry generously gave her outside their shared class combined on Tuesday and Thursday each week.

She wanted more. Greedy with want and didn’t know how to do it without tying it to school. Part of her worried because what if he just pitied her and now didn’t know how to get away from her? They had class together; he couldn’t be rude. Even if he didn’t like her the way she was already falling for him, it was very obvious that Harry was a good person.

“Just be careful,” Allie warned lightly. “Harry has a bit of a reputation I hear.”

She frowned and shrugged. She knew what Allie meant. People around her weren’t exactly subtle and while she listened to music in the dining hall while she ate, or studied in the library, or even just read her book. Those around her whispered. They had seen the pair of them walking to class. Apparently, Harry never looked like that before. The whispers included Harry having plenty of girlfriends. Sometimes two or even three at a time. That just seemed ridiculous, and she felt so sad others talked about him behind his back. There were even quiet bets about how long she would last in the list of Styles’ conquests.

So, she understood that Allie was just trying to look out for her. “Well... I like him. He doesn’t have a reputation around me,” she shrugged. Allie frowned for a moment. She was so sweet.

“Just be careful with your heart,” Allie looked at her with a bit of worry in her eye. But her smile was encouraging. “It’s too good for university guys.”

She had only known Allie about three months longer than she had known Harry. They both moved in at the start of the summer, working off campus and getting to know one another as well as the area (not that it helped her directionally illiterate mind). Allie was lovely and all the things she wanted in a college-best-friend that she never really got from commuting to the local college when she lived down south. “I think you would like him.”

“I can like him and still want someone better for you,” she shrugged leaning in the doorway. She didn’t want to taint the image of perfect Harry. But the stories she heard weren’t easy to ignore. She had seen him at parties since her best friend met him on her way to her sociology class. It was hard to miss him. It was like he was the star of every party.

He drank with his friends and girls obsessed over him. To her friend’s nearly naïve point of view, however, Allie hadn’t seen Harry flirt back. He was helpful and kind to those that drank too much; guiding them outside and gently pulling a girl’s hair back for when she threw up in the shrubs. It was endearing in a lot of ways. But she would still kill him if the rumors of a string of girls was true. If her new best friend was just another notch in his belt, Harry was dead. “You are so sweet to believe in the good in everyone. I just don’t want you to be heartbroken if he isn’t as lovely as you think.”

She smirked looking at the emojis and rapid influx of messages Harry was sending her trying to coordinate timing and picking her up, so she didn’t have to walk. “I won’t,” she promised. But she didn’t say that she thought he was better.

*

Harry was fifteen minutes late. He blamed the table he was waiting on before he left. They were overbearing and wanted their meal comped—that much was obvious. Looking for the smallest hiccups to rebuke him. Harry begged his manager to seat them in another section. Having waited on them before, but no dice. His heart was in his throat wishing he had time to go home and change but he couldn’t. If he was a moment later, he was sure he was ruining everything.

Unaware of Harry’s worry, she waited patiently on the bench outside the apartment building the university had taken as more dorm suites. She continued reading her book trying not to think about how maybe Harry had better things to do than study for a math class on a Sunday. Especially after work. But he had texted her he was running late, and he was on his way.

She was glad she decided on a coat, it wasn’t freezing, but her thick skin ill-suited for hot weather was already thawing and feeling the chill of the early October weather. She spent an embarrassingly long time sorting through her athleisure wear trying to decide. Something suitable for studying at a coffee shop that wasn’t overstated but not quite sweatpants.

Right when she thought about calling Harry, he appeared in front of the bench. Parking and getting out of his car quickly and hurrying to the passenger side. “I am so sorry,” he said hurriedly dragging a hand through his curls. She admired the motion; enjoying how mussing them didn’t matter much and they fell right back into place. She cleared her throat and shook herself out of her own staring at him.

“For what?”

“M’so late, love. S’rude. M’sorry,” he repeated.

“Oh...it’s...it’s really okay. I was already out here—”

“S’cold,” he frowned eyeing her sweatshirt and the coat at her side.

“I’m okay!” She promised. “Is everything alright?” She asked and stepped toward him putting her hand on his forearm. He thought he might explode at the feeling of her skin on his. It was more intimate than their handshake, and she got the feeling she wanted to twine their fingers together again.

Harry seemed to breathe with a sigh of relief, and he looked at her with this stunned expression. She couldn’t figure out why. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Jus’ felt bad being late.”

“Oh,” she blinked. “That’s okay. I wasn’t in a rush or anything—”

“No, love,” he shook his head. “M’sorry because I wanted t’see you so bad,” he sighed. He ran his hand through his hair again making her heart take off at a speed that had to be unsafe for her health. Almost immediately she felt light-headed. He wanted to see her. He just told her that. There was no hiding it. She could feel that emotion thick in his voice.

“Oh,” she repeated, completely stunned and confused. “Really?” She asked in complete shock.

“Yes, very, very much,” he sighed dreamily.

Her cheeks warmed hotly under his gaze. The pair of them stood there. Staring at one another as if they were statues destined to look at one another for all eternity, frozen in time to capture a moment like theirs. The October air was rapidly cooling, but she couldn’t feel anything but heat. Like she had stepped out of the airport terminal back in the south except this heat was not suffocating. It was so welcoming.

For a few moments they just stood there, her hand touching his forearm, gazing at one another. Part of her thought it would be nice to be a statue on the street. At least if Harry was beside her. Eventually, he shook his head ever so slightly and smirked. “So...coffee?”

She cleared her throat, smiling brightly. “Please.”

*

Just one week later, she was chatting with a friend from her sociology class. The moment he saw Harry, he knew Harry was there waiting for her, just as he had been since they met a month earlier. Harry recognized him from attending many parties that his frat hosted at one of the houses someone had off campus. His eyes seemed a bit surprised to see Harry waiting at the bottom of the steps, doing a double take at him waiting for the girl he was walking with down the steps.

“Hey Harry,” the guy said quietly.

“Hi!” She chirped gleefully. Her excited smile felt like too much on her face, but she had no way of knowing. She also didn’t notice the turmoil the guy felt seeing the competition between himself and Harry. (If she did know, she would flat out tell him there was no competition—other than school, Allie, and work, her mind was all about Harry.)

“Hi,” he said politely with a smile and turned toward the person he actually cared about talking to. “Y’ready for math, love?” He asked gently.

“Always,” she started for the main door. “See you around!” she called sweetly over her shoulder.

*

On Saturday, Allie asked if she wanted to go to a party with her. She was more than happy to stay in and read her book. But she teased her. “Harry might be there,” she winked knowingly.

As much as she didn’t pay any attention to the rumors about Harry, it was hard to fully ignore them the way she wanted to. It wasn’t that she distrusted Harry. No, if anything, she believed in him more than anyone else. But it did sound like Harry had a different party persona. She was not a party person. Honestly, she wanted him to have fun they way he wanted to. Going to a party just because he was there...

“That’s alright, I think—”

“Oh, come on!” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll help you get all dolled up and we’ll just have a couple drinks, and we can leave if you hate it. But if Harry is as smitten as you say he is, I bet he won’t let you leave,” she giggled.

Her face warmed at her friend’s assumption and she tried to picture a scenario in which someone as attractive as Harry would worry about little ole her like that. “Isn’t it cold out?”

“So wear another sweater!” Allie rolled her eyes.

“That’s not very college party of me.”

“Well, I would suggest an alcohol blanket, but I feel like getting you drunk before you even see Harry would be bad.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll make me look pretty?” She asked quietly at her friend in the doorway.

“Prettier,” Allie nodded assuredly.

“Alright,” she sighed. “Let’s go to a party.”

*

Allie’s arm was looped through hers. It was freezing out. But honestly it felt nice. She was just a bit shivery. “I thought you said I could wear another sweater.”

“Sweetie, hiding your assets at a party would be criminal.”

She rolled her eyes with a smirk. They entered the door, dodging the guy standing at the door to keep people in and out very quickly. “Hey Allie,” he said.

She waved in response and headed right inside. She thought maybe it was a good thing Allie told her to skip the sweater. The heat inside the house was nearly as warm and humid as the airport terminal. The air was thick with the sour smell of alcohol, weed, and sweat. “I don’t know how people want to hook up with anybody around here. I can’t think of very many places that are less of an aphrodisiac.”

Allie smirked and pushed the pair of them through a throng of bodies toward the kitchen. She grabbed two red cups from the sleeve of them off the counter and asked the makeshift bartender—surely some poor freshmen pledge—to pour them drinks. Her gut felt a little off about the gesture. “I don’t know, Al,” she whispered softly.

“I’ve had them here before,” Allie promised reassuringly. She still wasn’t thrilled with the idea as she took the cup from her friend.

“Hey Allie!” Someone called. Allie turned, looking over her shoulder as she called back over the pounding music. Meanwhile she looked at the liquid sloshing along with the ice. She thought maybe she should have taken her chances with the jungle juice—no one would be stupid enough to touch that, even if it would end with her throwing it all back up at the end of the night.

The pair of them circled around the house, briefly stopping to watch the end of a rousing game of beer pong. The winning person slammed his beer back, dripping along the sides of his mouth triumphantly which made her smile. Allie rolled her eyes and tugged her out back. A bon fire was in the middle of the yard. Another sober freshman pledge, undoubtedly in charge of standing guard. The music was still loud but way less aggressive outside. There were other large groups of people outside as well chattering and drinking away. Allie worked quick; left her alone by the fire—which she was grateful for since it was warm. When Allie returned, she was already sipping her second drink, holding a third, and dropping her empty cup in the trash bin right near the house. Oof, her head was going to kill tomorrow.

“Harry’s here,” Allie whispered to her as she got close to her again. There was a twinge in her knees, like she might fall at the mere thought of him. It took all her self-restraint to not whip around to catch a glimpse of him. She wasn’t playing hard to get, but this was very much not her scene. She didn’t want to intrude on whatever fun he was having. “You should go say hi,” Allie nudged her.

She smirked, wanting to take a sip of her drink but still feeling hesitant so she just put the cup to her lips, like she was pretending to sip it. “Uh...maybe later. I don’t want to interrupt,” she responded directly in Allie’s ear. The good news was she managed to peek over her shoulder to see him standing a little ways away from the fire. It was too dark to make out any specific features or defining muscles but just the way he stood was hot. She felt insane for thinking such a thing, but it was impossible not to. He was so cute. He had one hand in his front pocket, a drink in the other hand, and just a plaid flannel layered over another plaid flannel. His eyes and smile were lost in the dark, but she could picture it. The light evergreen color that was simply her new favorite color along with the pinkest most adorable lips curling across his face and making dimples in his cheeks that would make the Grand Canyon jealous of their depth.

“I think he would probably die if you interrupted,” she snickered.

Briefly, she entertained the idea. She could ask how Harry was doing on his homework, but that wasn’t the best party talk in the world (even if she did want to know). But she was still a little nervous, especially outside class, their walk, and even their study not-quite date to chat with him about anything. A party was more than likely his element. She could see why. Girls were surrounding him ogling very much the same things that she probably ogled on her way to math class. He was easy to talk to, sweet, and of course very handsome.

She shook her head. “Do they have s’mores?” She asked suddenly.

Allie spit her drink back into her cup and laughed. “Jesus Christ,” Allie rolled her eyes. “No; college-students don’t have s’mores at a party.”

She frowned. “I feel like this party would be a lot better if it did,” she grumbled.

Allie wrapped her arm over her shoulder. “Don’t ever change, please,” she kissed her cheek. She laughed lightly.

“If we had a party with a fire, I promise there would be s’mores,” she was very decisive. “It seems sinful to not have them.”

“Hey, love.”

She felt her whole body stiffen and somehow soften at the same time. They both turned to his voice and now she could see in the firelight, that the red colors of his flannel contrasted so sharply with his eyes. The green seemed to amplify—even in the dark. “Hi, Harry,” she smiled sweetly.

“Didn’t know y’would be here.”

“Yeah...uh... this is my best friend and roommate Allie,” she gestured to the girl beside her. “She invited me,” she explained.

“Hi, Harry,” Allie held her hand out. “Heard lots about you. And seen you around a lot,” she said knowingly.

“Hi, Allie,” he said sweetly shaking her hand politely. “Thanks for bringing her,” he grinned winking at her flirtatiously. “Can I steal her from you?” he asked. “If s’alright with you,” he turned back to her, looking into her eyes so deeply she swore he was reading her mind. Not that there were any other thoughts than Harry, Harry, Harry.

“Listen Harry,” Allie said squaring her shoulders.

“Oh my God, Al,” she shoved her back a bit. “Don’t.”

Harry took a step away and looked back at Allie nervously. “This is my best friend,” Allie said with the third drink doing most of the talking.

“Allie!” She hissed.

“I love her so much,” tipsy-Allie was very loving and adoring. A bit flighty too. If she didn’t have a rush of alcohol spinning her blood quickly through her, she might have been a little less aggressive.

“I see,” Harry smiled. “I will take really good care of her Allie. I promise. Y’have nothing t’worry ‘bout,” he shoved a hand back in his pocket. He looked at her shyly, knowing that Harry was also talking directly to her and not just her tipsy best friend. “I should have asked though,” he said with a smile. “D’you...want t’hang out a bit?” He asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, please.”

“How polite,” Allie snickered. Her smile faded rapidly as she glared back at Harry. If she wasn’t so focused on him, she might have missed the way he gulped nervously. “Don’t break her heart, Harry,” she pointed accusingly at him.

“Allie, enough!” She pressed a hand over her face.

“Don’t leave without me, either. I’ll be with my friends,” she said and flitted away as if there was nothing abnormal about her behavior.

“I’m so sorry about her,” she whispered still with a hand over her face. Harry chuckled and shook his head.

“No, s’okay. S’good she cares ‘bout you so much,” he nodded. “I agree completely,” he assured her. “M’really glad t’see you. I was so surprised and distracted...I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should have asked first t’steal y’away...” he glanced at her full cup. “Don’t like your drink?” He asked.

“Um...no, well. Kind of. I’m a little wary of accepting it from someone I don’t know.”

Harry didn’t try to talk her out of how she felt which made her heart flutter more. “S’a good point...d’you want t’walk to the bar down the road?” He asked.

“I’d have to leave Allie,” she smirked. “Not sure I want to put that on someone else.”

“Hold on,” he said and rushed off to the house. It was only a couple minutes, if that. But he reappeared with a can in his hand. “I pulled it out of the fridge when the kid was turned,” he smirked.

She giggled. “My hero,” she laughed and sipped it without fear.

“So... d’you want t’go...find some place quieter t’talk?”

She glanced at the house. “Is there somewhere to talk?” She asked.

“Yeah... m’friend Niall and his friends are hosting. He’s got a keypad lock on his door, and I know the code t’his bedroom.”

“You always try to get girls into your friend’s room?” She asked quirking an eyebrow at him while sipping her drink. He chuckled and shook his head.

“No, s’nothing like that, love. Jus’ want some privacy.”

“Well, that’s fine by me, even by the fire, it’s chilly out here.”

“You’re cold? Here,” he pulled off the top flannel and draped it on her shoulders then put a hand on her lower back to guide her back toward the house. She could feel the stares of others on them as they meandered back. “S’not even winter yet. S’gonna be tough on your southern blood,” he smiled.

She smiled. “My parents are from here. I think there’s some northerner in me yet. Just got to get it out of hibernation.”

Harry chuckled. “You’ll still need a coat, love,” he promised.

If Harry was going to offer his own clothing to her, she wasn’t sure she’d want to bring her own coat at all.

--

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[mastercucco]

Hateno Boy - Part 1 - Link x Reader

The Calamity is gone, but so is Link’s purpose. He feels completely lost in post-Calamity Hyrule where everyone but him seem to have found their new place.

It certainly doesn’t help his restless nights that you, a young Hylian whom Zelda has hired as the new teacher at Hateno School, are slowly taking up more and more of his headspace with each conversation you two have.

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild / Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link x fem!Reader Raiting: Mature (might go up, might go down, let's see) Contains: feel-good, slow burn romance; platonic Link/Zelda; Link being an angsty retired hero Chapter Index | Read on Ao3 A/N: Very excited to write something possibly disgustingly cute. The story takes place after the events in BotW but before the beginning of TotK. All characters are adults! I hope you enjoy the story! xx

Chapter 1 - Purpose

Contains: Link being an angsty retired hero; Zelda being embarrassed by Link's inability to talk to girls (or other human beings in general) Word count: ~1,3k A/N: Please look past any weird sentences, English isn't my first language :p

A breath of warm air blows from the sea, gentle on skin and smelling of sea salt. The wind hurries over the hills of Necluda, tall grass bowing before it like waves on an emerald green ocean. Once it reaches Link sitting on top of the hills, it gently tugs on his hair and pushes his hood down.

He has been sitting there for quite some time now – so long that the tips of his ears are starting to redden from the wind, as gentle as it is. The sun that was high up when he arrived at the hills, is now hanging low over the horizon. It is soon time for him to go; Zelda asked him in the morning to stop by the school before sundown.

He is alone, as he is on most days nowadays. There isn’t much for him to do: Zelda is busy rebuilding Hateno, the recently finished village school her new pride and joy. And when she isn’t mingling with the villagers, she’s kept busy with her research at the Tech Lab. She doesn’t require an escort anymore, not after Purah hired a young researcher to assist them decipher ancient Zonai texts anyway. The man rarely leaves Zelda’s side when the two of them are together – which is often. Very often.

Link was jealous at first. After all, he is the Princess’ appointed knight, and he is the one who wields the Master Sword, and he is the one who saved Zelda’s life – not some overly excited, self-proclaimed explorer with a stupidly tall frame and an apparent distaste for wearing upper garments that hide his muscles.

Eventually, his jealousy morphed into loneliness – something he did a terrible job of hiding from Zelda. She asked him if he wanted to return to Hyrule Castle to help the Royal Guard in training new soldiers. Link said no, that he likes it here in Hateno.

“I wouldn’t mind if you go,” Zelda said, gently placing her hand on top of his, “I can see how lost you are here.”

Somehow, Zelda seeing straight through his lies and offering him kindness hurt more than her asking Link to leave in the first place. After that, Link couldn’t help but feel even more uncertain and disconnected. Everyone had seemingly moved on, everyone but him. While he still remains close with Zelda, honoring his duty, accompanying her whenever she travels outside of Hateno, even living with her, he knows deep down that she doesn’t need him anymore. The Calamity is gone, and so is his purpose.

The sun hangs low when Link arrives at Hateno School. The sky is flaring in shades of red, reminding Link of a cozy fire under a cooking pot – somewhere he would much prefer to be. The school’s front doors are open, but the playground is silent and the windows are dark, all except one. It has been a while since Link last visited the school. The children adore him, which is exactly why he prefers to stay away. Their looks of admiration and curious questions make him uneasy. Ever since moving to Hateno, all he has wanted is to lay low, going as far as to hide his head-turning Champion’s tunic in the bottom of his drawer. He wanted to throw the tunic away, but Zelda wouldn’t let him.

He can already hear Zelda’s excited chattering when he reaches the open doors and quietly steps inside. Zelda is having an eager conversation with a young Hylian woman – you – whom Link doesn’t remember seeing before. He does remember Zelda telling him about a new teacher she hired a few months back, and he figures it must be you.

You notice Link arriving before Zelda does and give him a polite smile in greeting. Only when he lightly taps on Zelda’s shoulder does she stop talking and turn around.

“Oh, Link,” she smiles. “You have impeccable timing. We were just talking about you!”

Link furrows his brow. Great, just great, he thinks, already feeling the tips of his ears growing warmer.

“Only good things,” you assure with an awkward laugh. “The Princess told me you made the apple pie she brought the other day.”

Link hopes that the dim light of the oil lamps is enough to hide his red ears. He clears his throat, though not even intending to say anything.

“I don’t think you two have met before, have you?” Zelda says, giving Link an encouraging nudge.

Even after all the years spent in royal banquets practicing formal pleasantries with Hyrule’s nobility, Link still feels awkward having to introduce himself. Nonetheless, he extends his hand for a greeting. When you offer him yours, he brings it to his lips and gives your knuckles a polite kiss. Your skin feels soft and pleasant, he thinks, now horribly self-aware of just how sweaty his own palm is.

When he looks back at you, even he can pick up the awkward tension in your smile and words as you introduce yourself. He feels his whole face heat up, not really understanding what he did wrong but knowing he must have, because even Zelda has the same tension in her smile as you do.

“He is very accustomed to his formal greetings from his days at the Castle,” Zelda says with a forced smile and gives Link a look. Only then does he realize that a hand kiss, though adequate in greeting a noble woman, is not something you, a village school teacher, was expecting from a Royal Knight. He would apologize, but his mouth is dry and no words come out.

“And, well, you probably already know of Link,” Zelda breaks the uncomfortable silence after it becomes clear Link isn’t going to introduce himself.

“The Hero of Hyrule,” you say, knowingly. “We have actually met before.”

We have? Link thinks, the heat of embarrassment getting unbearable. All he wants to do is run home and hide under his bed covers for the rest of eternity. This is why he rarely leaves their home or willingly socializes with the villagers. He would cringe if he wasn’t too embarrassed to move his face muscles.

“You have?” asks Zelda out loud, her disapproving eyes boring into Link’s.

“It was years ago,” you are quick to add. “He took refuge in our family home once. I wouldn’t blame him for not remembering.”

Zelda doesn’t appear quite as understanding when she shoots another scolding look at Link, the pink in her own cheeks deepening as well. “Please,” she says as she turns back to you, “accept my apology. Link can be awfully forgetful sometimes.” She gives him a final glare that, at last, makes him drop his head. He’s not sure if dying of embarrassment is a real occurrence, but if it is, then he must be very close to leaving Hyrule for good.

“It’s quite alright, Your Highness,” you say with a slightly uneasy laugh that fails to fully mask your discomfort. “I don’t mind it, really. Like I said, it was years ago.”

There is an uncomfortable silence between the three of you. Then Zelda claps her hands, and the tension breaks like a taut rubber band. Link sighs, relieved.

“Well,” Zelda says, “now that we are done with introductions, perhaps we can show Link the curriculum we’ve been working on? I’m sure he can give us his opinion on the section about monster parts and their usage in elixirs.”

When you turn to look for something from your writing table’s drawers, Link grabs Zelda’s sleeve and gives her a pleading look. Zelda narrows her eyes and shakes her head.

“Do not even think of fleeing” she hisses in his ear before she hurries over to you to help you with a pile of scrolls close to toppling over. Link lets out a silent grunt and looks longingly at the open doors. The sun has gone down, the sky now the same shade as embers cooling down under a cooking pot – somewhere he would much prefer to be.

Chapter 2 - Heromania »

[jinxthejubilee]

Why Must It Hurt, Mother of Mine? ���—————————————————

Summary: An older fem. Yuu comforts Riddle after suffering a nightmare he doesn't want to talk about. (PLATONIC)

[She/Them pronouns for Yuu]

Warning: This story contains minor mentions of abuse and nightmares.

Spoilers: This takes place a few weeks after the events of Chapter 1 for Twisted Wonderland.

An evening at Night Raven College could almost never be described as "peaceful."

For what little time Yuu had spent living in this peculiar new world, she'd gathered that the bustling school of young, eccentric students provided more than enough enthusiasm during the day for it all to bleed over to night.

And yet, here, at the Heartslabyul dorm, home to the order of the Queen of Hearts, there was a noticeable change in the air. No longer was the tense nature of the dorm suffocating its residents in a smothering grip or deafening them with intense wails of anger and frustration as it did the first few weeks of the school year.

All that was felt was the cool, gentle breeze weaving through the open windows. All that could be heard was the gentle sway of the painted trees and their feline companion snoring on the lounge couch.

In spite of this rare moment of tranquility, however, the magicless human was restless. They patiently leaned on the kitchen's island countertop, waiting for the kettle to bubble over the stove across from her.

Ace and Deuce had invited the prefect and Grim over to Heartslabyul to help each other finish their shared homework. To their collective shock, the four of them managed to finish all their respective assignments hours earlier than expected. As it was a Friday night, the group decided to spend the rest of the evening playing card, board, and video games. Eventually, Cater, Trey, and a semi-reluctant Riddle joined in the fun.

It took some time for the ever-austere dormhead to become fully immersed in the late night revelry, but he appeared to have been enjoying himself for the most part, Yuu thought. Except for the countless times Ace had beaten them all in various card games... The prefect could tell it took all within Riddle AND Deuce not to sock the orange-head in the jaw for his smug, victory face.

It had been a few hours since they'd all decided to call it for the night. Or, rather, since Riddle decided to call it a night and had Trey convince the others to follow suit. While Yuu usually maintained a decent sleep schedule, the excitement from earlier had both drained and replenished her energy.

Nothing that a soothing cup of tea couldn't fix. She'd be back on that couch cuddling with Grim in no time...

As she got lost in her thoughts for a moment, she didn't notice a figure slowly stumbling behind her. The figure likely didn't notice her either until Yuu turned around, finally hearing the footsteps, startling both of them.

"Riddle?" The prefect asked, squinting at the now-dimly candle lit figure. "Sheesh, you scared me."

The startled dormhead let his hand fall from his heart in a sigh. "I could say the same thing." He said, his fear quickly melting into exasperated weariness that illuminated more than the candle did. "What in the world are you doing up this late?"

"I could ask the same thing." They joked with a slight smile. She pointed at the kettle behind her. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought some tea could help. Looks like you had the same idea, huh?"

"I... suppose so." He answered quietly.

The poor boy looked like a deer in headlights. Clearly, he had hoped no one would see him in the disheveled state he was in. As the prefect looked him over, she took note of how madly ruffled his hair and clothes were. The way his posture, while expectedly stiff, had an air of fatigue. His eyes and cheeks were stained red but dry.

"In any case," Riddle started as he walked towards the shelves to quickly grab himself a teacup. "We should promptly get back to bed. It isn't proper to be up so late, even if it is a weekend."

He didn't dare look up at her as he prepared his cup beside her.

"Honestly, I insisted that you should've gone back to Ramshackle to sleep on a proper bed rather than the couch." He continued, rambling. "It's no wonder you can't sleep. Not to mention, it will damage your posture. It's bad enough already, and you insist on ruining it further. Rule of the Queen of Hearts #396 states that-!"

"-Riddle." Yuu finished, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. The boy stopped but refused to meet her eyes.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

His lips opened in a barely audible gasp. His eyes widened for a moment, but they just as quickly shut.

He shirked off the hand on his shoulder with his own, though the act lacked its usual force.

"Of course not," he answered weakly. "I simply couldn't sleep, is all."

"Lying isn't your area of expertise, dorm leader." Yuu countered.

"I am not-!"

"-Oh, stop being stubborn." Cutting him off, Yuu grabbed the steaming kettle off the stove, turned the knob to turn it off, and delicately poured the water into the equally delicate teacups. She watched in brief satisfaction as the bags expanded; releasing the tea, before mixing them thoroughly with a small spoon.

The prefect slid Riddle's cup across the counter slowly, almost daring him to utter another lie in her presence.

Yuu wasn't entirely surprised. Trey had confided in her a few days prior that Riddle had been suffering from violent nightmares occasionally.

The themes of these dreams varied from his fear and hatred of himself manifesting in another overblot; his mother chastising him for failing to uphold the family legacy; to Trey, Chenya, Cater, and all of Heartslabyul leaving Riddle to perish in some way for all that he put them through.

Sometimes, it was a mix of all three...

She grabbed her cup and took a small sip before continuing. "Look, I know what nightmares look like. Hell knows how many times I've woken up with eye bags so big that I could pack groceries into them. Trust me, no one here's going to shame you for that."

"That's quite easy for you to say, isn't it?" Riddle said, looking down at the floor. His fists were clenched so tight, his knuckles were sure to have whitened.

"I have an example to set in honor of this dorm. It's bad enough that my... incident... was seen by nearly every blasted member of Heartslabyul. If they saw me now, I'd only remind them of how pathetic I was to be brought to such a state."

"Well, I'm not part of Heartslabyul, am I?" Yuu asked. They took a longer sip of their tea. "And even if I was, you know that I wouldn't hold your "incident" against you, right? None of us would. Ace wouldn't have invited you to play with us if he was still angry with you, would he?"

They recalled how Ace playfully taunted Riddle after the latter respectfully declined at first. Yuu didn't miss how quickly the dorm leader's eyes sparked with life at the taunt, like a kindling flame.

He looked so happy. So delightfully overjoyed.

Yet, she could tell he was hesitant to participate. True, that wariness could've been a product of Riddle not quite grasping the games just yet, but something told Yuu that this was different.

And oh, how she hated to be right. It clicked in her head as soon as she saw him again: He felt undeserving of their desire to connect with him.

"No, but..." He attempted.

"Riddle," Yuu insisted gently, "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'm just letting you know that I'm here if you need it. Sometimes, all you need is a shoulder to cry on. I mean, I know I'm not as close to you as Trey is, but he's not the only one who worries about you."

The redhead released his fists and finally lifted his head. Though now his face twisted with guilt, and his eyes threatened to spill more tears.

"I don't wish to burden you, too..."

That broke her.

Yuu placed her cup down on the island and slowly walked towards Riddle. She ignored his asking of what she thought she was doing and quickly wrapped her arms around him. He didn't pull away, so she took it as a sign to press further.

"You could never burden me, Riddle." She tightened her hold for emphasis. "Never."

He didn't return the hug, but she felt his muscles loosen and his head drooped down to her shoulder.

"I got you, Riddle. Just let it out, I won't tell a soul."

Riddle was tired.

He was tired of these nightmares.

He was tired of starting every morning with a bleak reminder of his mistakes.

He was tired of the dread he felt every time he was somehow reminded of his overblot in some way.

He was tired of living in fear of his mother's wrath if she were to discover that he'd strayed from the path set for him. That he had grown distant from her mindset.

He was tired of the constant influx of 'what if' scenarios that played over and over in his mind.

Riddle was tired, and a small part of him despised the fact that Yuu knew that, too.

But another part of him relished the pleasant warmth around him. Yuu was earnest. Inviting. Just like with Trey and Che'nya, he felt safe in a way he could never be with his own family. Perhaps she, too, could be trusted.

Maybe, maybe, just this once...

He didn't know when they began to well up again, but the tears fell in quick succession, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop them.

Riddle returned Yuu's embrace, though, now his body convulsed in her grasp. His fingers dug into her skin as his tears brought a wave of painful sobs. She kept him steady, lest he collapse on the floor.

Their heart ached at the sight, but Yuu knew better than anyone that this needed to happen.

Acknowledging and accepting his emotions was one of the first steps to move forward. To heal.

If he didn't, well... Yuu preferred not to think about the possibility of another overblot...

Neither of them knew how long they stayed in each other's arms.

As the sobs grew quieter, Yuu waited for Riddle to make the first move. After a few seconds more, he released his hold and brought his hands up to his eyes to wipe them.

He was a mess. His eyes were red, once again. His cheeks appeared as if his perfect, almost porcelain skin cracked from the ricochet of hot tears.

Even so, he looked relieved. So, so relieved.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Riddle could hear the smile in her voice.

The prefect grabbed her and Riddle's cups and dumped the now-cold tea into the sink.

"C'mon. I'll put the water on, and you can actually drink your tea this time."

She laughed as he sputtered indignitly at that.

Eventually, the two moved to the couch, cups in hand, discussing Riddle's dream. The dormhead laid bare the heavy weight that sat upon his shoulder earlier that night as soon as they sat down.

To say it was a lot would be an understatement. Tonight brought one of the more extreme nightmares to date, he explained. All three criterion could be checked off the box, and then some. He spared no details.

There may have been a few more tears shed on both sides, but Yuu didn't believe it to be a sad display. This was a breakthrough, and she was honored to witness it.

Riddle Rosehearts, the strict, unyielding dorm leader of Heartslabyul, trusted her.

...He trusted her...

As they both began to tire out, Yuu guided a now-exhausted Riddle back to his room, despite the boy's insistence that he didn't need an escort.

Before he could turn the knob to open his door, he turned his head to look Yuu in the eye.

"Thank you, Yuu. For everything."

She walled towards him to give him one last brief hug for the night.

"Anytime. I mean it. Now, get some sleep."

He nodded, finally opening the door and stepping into his room. As the door slowly closed, Yuu walked in place to mimic her footsteps, pretending to leave the hallway.

After a few minutes, the prefect carefully opened Riddle's door to peek her head inside.

There he was. Neither shaking nor weeping. Not a tear in sight.

Just silence. A beautiful, painless silence.

"Goodnight, Riddle. Sweet dreams."

Author's Note: Wooo! I haven't posted anything writing related in so long! (Help me)

This fic was "requested" by @dolliehina ! This wasn't an ask to me specifically, I just saw someone ask anyone to write Platonic!Fem Yuu comfort Riddle like a mother, and I instinctually jumped on it! I couldn't help myself. So thank you, @dolliehina, for inspiring me to write this!

I think I've gotten a lot better, but I'm still not used to writing full stories. Ironic, since I've had an Ao3 account for almost two years. If any of you guys have any criticisms, please let me know, I appreciate the help! But I hope you all enjoyed this anyway!

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @thefreakandthehair! With thirty-nine works in the Steve/Eddie and Stranger Things tags on Archive of our Own!

In an underdogfics first, we have TWO nominators!

Our first nominator recommends the following works by @thefreakandthehair:

this is my month, I can feel it. october, baby!

never been afraid of any deviation.

scar-crossed lovers.

the answers are all inside of this.

Our second nominator, @sidekick-hero, recommends the following works by @thefreakandthehair:

over the hills and far away

meeting you was coming home.

make no plans and none can be broken.

rounding third, sliding home.

what's mine is yours (to leave or take)

Lex's brain is full of very creative scenarios, reading her writing is like reading an anthology of short stories but it's with all of your favorite characters! You get to see what they'd do in this AU or that AU, I love the exploration. It's like she's made a stew and it's simmering on the stove and you realize you're so hungry for stew as soon as you see it. <3 -- anonymous

Lex writes characters that come to life on the page while you're reading her stories. It makes it so easy to get invested in them, to feel with them and root for them to get their happy ending. She's one of these authors I would follow anywhere, any trope, any setting and universe, I am here for it. So I think more people should get to find her stories and be treated to the magic. -- @sidekick-hero

Below the cut, @thefreakandthehair answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

How can I possibly give just one reason! These two burrowed themselves into my brain like little gerbils with no hope of ever getting them out. I mean, was I supposed to hear ‘dontcha big boy?’ and be normal about it? But in all seriousness, they’re two sides of the same coin and those oppositions in character are super fun to play with!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

It was tough to choose, but friends to lovers keeps coming up!

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

If I have to choose a particular trope, hurt/comfort would be the closest fit, but in the sense of healing past hurts together as a unit.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This question sent me into an existential crisis and the best I could do is narrow it down to three, and even that was nearly impossible. In no particular order: We’ll Know For The First Time by KikiZ; carve your name into my chest by hexiewrites; and more recently, Among the Wildflowers by ParadimeShifts.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Rivals to Lovers in my football AU! I’ve been so excited to get moving on that one.

What is your writing process like?

Oh, I wish I had a better one. I start with a skeleton outline, pop on some music, and then pick and choose which part of the outline sparks joy in that moment. I rarely, if ever, write chronologically so I just write what feels good in the moment and then go back with a scalpel to create connective tissue.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Definitely writing out of order, I think! And if there’s one thing about me, it’s that someone is gonna have an introspective moment looking up at the stars. Someone told me it’s like my calling card and they’re not wrong.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I like a bit of both. I like to post on a schedule for multi-chapter fics but only after it’s either completely done or mostly done so that there’s no pressure to it.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Over The Hills And Far Away incorporated some personal bits of my past that were equal parts cathartic and difficult to write at times, so I’d have to say that one! It’s really satisfying to take experiences that you regret or that didn’t end the way you’d hoped and give them a different ending in fiction.

How did you get the idea for never been afraid of any deviation?

The Eddie Month prompt for that day! Me and my co-mod for the event, nostalgicbones, included Bad Reputation by Joan Jett as a prompt and as I was listening to it, it got me thinking about how Eddie is someone who cares for those in less than ideal situations— maybe even to the point of weaponizing his own bad reputation to protect someone. In this case, that was Steve!

When writing the answers are all inside of this, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to become multiple chapters! That one is part of my So Much For Stardust series (that I haven’t forgotten about, I’ve just been busy with big bangs) so it was based on The Pink Seashell interlude from the album. I still don’t know exactly how a 1-minute interlude turned into a 15k multi-chapter fic, but it was super fun to let go off the rails!

What inspired scar-crossed lovers?

Also a So Much For Stardust series fic, the first one in the series, actually. I heard Heaven, Iowa for the first time and wrote this based on that song in a day. My brain just kept rotating it around like a rotisserie chicken until I wrote it.

What was your favorite part to write from scar-crossed lovers?

This is ironic because I’m not an angst-writer by nature, but writing about the slow deterioration of Eddie’s van as a symbol for the passage of time was really fun to do. Bittersweet, but it was one of those things that I didn’t realize I was doing until I was in the middle of it and once I realized, I just carried it throughout!

How do/did you feel writing never been afraid of any deviation.?

Excited! It was the first time that I wrote pre-s4 steddie (which is wild that in two years, I just wrote that for the first time last fall?) and it was so fun to do!

What was the most difficult part of writing the answers are all inside of this.?

Probably balancing the kids’ voices in the first chapter while still creating tension between Steve and Eddie.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

It isn’t one of the fics listed here, but in no better version I could pretend to be tonight, I loved writing the line “Something about Steve feels like home, and Eddie is only familiar with houses.” Hurt/comfort, my beloved.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’m planning on taking a break from big bangs for a bit to focus on some super neglected WIPs, so there are a few upcoming fics I’m excited about! My Football AU, an ASMR Artist!Eddie x Insomniac!Steve AU, and I’m working on a fic called Pickup Note with sidekick-hero and firefly-party that I cannot wait to dive into fully.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Just thank you so much for all that you do with this blog! The ship truly exploded overnight and there are so many incredible stories that I’ve completely missed just because they’ve fallen through the cracks. I really appreciate what you’re doing here and the undertaking that it’s been!

Thank you to our author, @thefreakandthehair, and our nominators, anonymous and @sidekick-hero! See more of @thefreakandthehair works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader.

Part 10 wooohooo thank you for all your support I appreciate it massively!!! Don’t worry if this story has slowed down a little it’s going to pick right back up (without any spoilers 😉). Also I’m hating using the use of y/n it’s making me cringe, it’s too late to add a name to this character isn’t it 😭😭

Tension still continues between Daniel and her. Neither of their pain seems to be subsiding, and it’s safe to say Max is becoming semi-aware of their situation…

Warnings: talk of alcohol, mentions of a previous panic attack but nothing graphic, maybe some swearing? The next chapter will be HEAVYYYY, spicy, arguments, angst, crying omfg I am excited to write it so stay tuned ����

The first night she’d slept properly was after her panic attack, tiring her to the point of exhaustion as she passed out listening to all the cliche, heartbreak songs, Celine Dion was on the top of her list. The following few nights were hit or miss depending on sleep, luckily, right before Penelope’s 4th birthday party she’d managed to have a good sleep meaning she was pretty much raring to go.

She’d decided there’d be absolutely no tears and awkward interactions between Daniel and her, they’d texted a couple of times when he was checking if she was okay, but that was the extent of it. She couldn’t spend anymore time thinking about the man, nor could he spend any less time thinking about her. She plagued his mind, he felt like he was going absolutely crazy.

Struggling to carry the large bag full of barbies and the dream house she’d bought for the young one, Max ran over in amusement, taking the large present from her grasp. “Hi! Thank you, Max.” She offered him a quick hug. “What have you bought her, a car?!”

“Barbies of course!” “P’s gonna go crazy when she sees this. How are you anyway? Better after the other day?” She laughed out of embarrassment at his question. “I’m completely fine now, sorry I had to run away.” I shook my head. “No it’s fine, as long as you’re okay.” Max wasn’t an idiot, neither was Kelly. Neither was P.

“P was just concerned that’s all.” He patted her back with his free hand as smiled gently. “She’s excited to see you, P!” Max called out. “Look who’s here!”

“I’m excited to see her- oh my god! Is that the birthday girl?!” She fell to her knees at the little one ran into her arms, giddy with her birthday excitement. “Happy birthday, P!” She gave her a squeeze as P jumped back. Daniel watched with a gentle smile, his hand tightening around the grip on his beer bottle as his heart crumbled at the sight.

Meanwhile, she had to yet to see him there. She squealed with excitement, clapping as P did a spin her adorable dress. When she did say her hello’s she was speaking mainly with Kelly and a bunch of women she’d met a handful of times before. She was relieved to see her friends already there, somehow the thought of walking in somewhere was still intimidating to her. Through the whole evening her and Daniel didn’t speak once, they were on the opposite side of the garden all night, she stuck with her friends and he stuck with his. It somehow made Daniel feel more awkward than ever, and he wasn’t sure if it was a conscious effort on her behalf to speak to basically everybody but him. It hurt deep inside of him, it stung at his heart harsher than anything he’d felt before and a weird sickness would fill him every time he thought of how she’d avoided him. Daniel didn’t want it to be like that, if they couldn’t be together then surely they could be as close as they were before?

Daniel would always drive her places, grabbing her smoothies, and they’d always manage to find one another snickering in the most inappropriate moments. She’s sought him out after races where they’d gossip together, giggling at all the influencers there who had no clue what the hell was going on. Daniel never thought he’d miss when they were just friends, but the separation and distance between the pair felt uncomfortably cold. Another person who noticed this was Max. Odd little things had been happening, first y/n runs off crying, then Daniel looks like a sad puppy lingering around. He couldn’t help but recognise how the two didn’t speak, it was insightful, maybe he was looking too hard into it, but to Max it was blatantly obvious they were upset at one another. “You alright?” He approached the Australian man who was just preparing to leave. “Yeah, yeah, had a good time, thanks for the invite man.” Of course Daniel smiled in response.

“Something going on with you and y/n?” Max openly asked, Daniel was stunned, momentarily speechless. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Max blurted out the question quicker than he intended to. “Y/n?” Daniel flinched. “She was just a bit upset the other day, that’s all. I talked to her about it.” He scratched the back of her neck, partly avoiding Max’s question. The Dutchman decided against pressing him on the topic. The slight avoidance of the question struck Max as odd.

“Is she okay?” Daniel went to wince again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure she is.” Although he wasn’t sure at all. She seemed good today, he was glad, but surely if she was over this whole thing she would’ve spoken to him… maybe he should’ve made the first move? Oh god, his mind was overthinking like crazy, even messier with Max’s straightforwardness. That evening it was Daniel’s turn to listen to pathetically cliche heartbreak songs.

A couple days later, after qualifying, she was there again. Daniel had just gained the 6th fastest lap time, however his track time was then deleted for exceeding track limits. It was a nightmare, she found herself going from cheering to stood in disappointment. She knew Daniel wouldn’t be so happy, he’d probably take it on the chin but 6th was incredible, especially to say he was driving a tractor.

That day, her feelings had warmed up to Daniel. It’s like seeing him again at P’s birthday rid some of the anger that contaminated her previously. Once she’d spoken to both Checo and Max, she noticed Daniel lingering not far away, he’d just been talking with her dad once he’d returned over from the Alpha Tauri garage.

He walked so close besides her, and he didn’t even notice her at first, until she stood up from tying her shoe lace and they were all of a sudden face to face. “Hi Daniel.” She borderline squeaked and he felt his stomach knot and flip. “Hey, you alright?” He scanned over her face. She looked good today, not so tired.

“I’m good.” She turned away. “How about you?” Her hand raised to shield the sun from her face, actually looking him dead in the eye now. “Ah, I’m okay.” He seemed to shrug, and for a second it was a little awkward. When she scanned over his face she could feel her stomach flipping.

“You did good today, I mean- I know the whole thing with the track limits happened, but to get initially to 6th is so good.” She spoke, shrugging her shoulders timidly. “Thank you.” His voice was gentle, slightly hoarse, his chest ached so desperately for her, he yearned for her so longingly.

“Red Bull 2024’s looking promising.” She commented light heartedly, even forcing a small breath of laughter as his lips twitched up softly. “Ah, I don’t know.” He dug his foot into the ground as her smile, too, faded and she glanced over him before down to the floor. It was awkward. And it was about to get 10x more awkward when Christian walked over. “What’re you two flirting about?!” Daniel felt breathless at the fathers comment, he was positive his cheeks were already burnt up. “Dad.” She scoffed out a laugh, playfully nudging his arm away. Daniel forced a laugh.

“I’ll see you both later.” He gave Christian a friendly smack on the arm before heading off in the opposite direction and not sparing her another glance. She winced at the action, unknown to the pain that rattled through Daniel’s chest.

“What was that all about?” Christian asked, eyeing up between Daniel and his daughter. Again, she winced, cringing at the thought of having to explain anything.

“I was just speaking to him about the qualifying.” She shrugged, although her tone wasn’t so convincing. “You’re both blushing.” He narrowed his eyes, an amused smile forming on his face. She knew what he’d do, tease her to death, despite being completely blind to everything else that had already happened.

“No im not!” She defended, spluttering and raising a hand to her obviously burning cheek. “Yeah you are! Look I know you might fancy Daniel a little but-“

“Stop, I’m not 12.” She grimaced. “He is a great bloke is Daniel, anyway.” Oh my god. She officially wanted the ground to swallow her up. Not only had her dad said this to her, but he ensured Max Verstappen was in right in the firing point, overhearing all the conversation.

Max oddly looked like he’d seen a ghost, he was slowly puzzling everything together and now he was convinced that y/n and Daniel were secretly doing it behind everybody’s backs. The girl in the hotel room, the ‘discreet’ love bite on her collarbone, the hushed conversations- Max was a genius!

“I knew it!” He stormed over, filled with excitement. As soon as Christian had left the scene, he was bursting to expose the secret he’d discovered. “Know what?!” She turned in surprise.

“You and Daniel, you’re together!” Oh fuck. She felt her eyes bulge and heart begin pounding. “What?! No, no, Max, no we’re not.” His smile faded seeing as how hushed she was being about it. “You’re not?!”

“No! I mean- no…” “But I’ve seen it, I’ve heard you both.” She cringed again at his words and knew there was no denying, she just needed to quieten him.

“No- I mean yes, but we’re not anymore. Please, please don’t say a word.” An odd sense of panic washed through her, Max was stunned, staring back to the anxious looking girl. Her eyes looked the exact same way they did at the race track the other day.

“I-I won’t. Are you ok?” “I’m fine, I am. Just please don’t say anything, you can tell Kelly just not a soul else.” She pleaded, luckily she knew Max was a man of his words. It felt oddly freeing to get the secret off her chest, it’s like it had been waiting to just be blurted out the whole time. Now it really felt real, the whole thing was semi out in the open, did it make her bad to be exposing something she promised to keep secret?? The thought would eat her alive, but so did the secrecy surrounding her, very much, public sadness…

———————————————————————

🫨🫨🫨🫨

@dinodumbass @mccall-muffin @allabouthappiness @benbarneslut @ricciardhoe-3 @headinthecloudssblog

[autistichalsin]

Both Karlach and Halsin are buff capable adults with strong morality, but inside THEY ARE KIDS FULL OF JOY TO BE ALIVE IN THE WORLD FULL OF WONDERS as Oak Father Intended

So strong, so fragile, as life itself LET THEM LOVE LET THEM BE

GOD BUT THIS PART.

They're adults, traumatized, with both having experienced the worst the world can offer, having their freedom and autonomy denied to them, socially isolated. Both have the Outlander background. Both lost their families, both are war veterans.

Yet they both are still so full of love and joy. Halsin is unable to show it the way he wants to when we meet him, while Karlach never wavers from it, yet at the end they're both able to show who they are. How they love LIFE itself more than anything, how they're so full of kindness and compassion and love to protect the weak.

Karlach isn't certain she wants kids at first, but Halsin is- yet when you bring the idea up to her, she warms to it at once. She also teases the idea of getting a "really mean goat." You know who loves all life, all animals? Halsin.

If you bring Karlach to the love dryad and are asked where she'll be in 10 years, you can say "worshipping Selune"; Karlach responds that she's nice, but Karlach is more of a sunshine girl herself.

Sunshine.

What is Halsin's quest about again? Bringing something back to a certain cursed land?

... Right. SUNLIGHT. "If the sun shines on this place once more..."

Sunlight is essential for life. Essential for plants to grow. Halsin wants to infuse life and light back into the Shadow-Cursed Lands, and Karlach alludes to the god of sunlight as being perhaps the only one she'd consider becoming a follower of.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE? If Karlach asks Halsin for stories, he mentions how while everyone wants the most exciting chapters, he spends plenty of time hibernating in bear form. Karlach gets excited, saying "sleep AND adventure! Maybe I'll come back as a bear in some future life!"

IF THAT ISN'T SYMBOLISM, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS!

Both are protective of those who need it most. Both have a great deal of empathy. Karlach is more childish in many ways than Halsin, but this could help him let his playful side out more, while Halsin's maturity could help ground Karlach when she needs it. Karlach is always raring to go for a good fight, never straying from what needs to be done, while Halsin is more pragmatic and able to understand when a fight will accomplish nothing. They offset each other in so many good ways while retaining the same core personality- warm, loving, full of life and care and compassion.

Both are touch-starved; you can see how Halsin reacts to being hugged in the epilogue, stating that he always needs a hug and if he ever refuses one, to assume he's been replaced by a doppelganger, while Karlach went without for TEN YEARS. Both are socially isolated, Halsin having been made a sex slave, lost his family, endured the Shadow Curse, and then forced into a leadership role, while Karlach lost her family too, was dragged into hell to fight for ten years where none of her "comrades" would have been worth talking to, and now faces a terminal illness on top of that.

In all the party banters in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, it's KARLACH who shows the most concern for Halsin's mental state, who is horrified when he talks about what he witnessed and how it still affects him. A soft "poor man" in one, and a "stay strong, bear man, we're still here" in another. Karlach is able to see that just once, Halsin wants to be soothed the way he does for others. And similarly, it's Halsin to tell her he "will not try to soothe her with gilded words" but that he "is still here" for her when Karlach finally realizes the truth of her impending death, because Halsin can see that in that moment, Karlach doesn't want to be told it'll be okay; she wants to be told that she isn't alone, that her presence, for however short a time it'll linger, will be cherished by those close to her. Instinctively, they understand these needs the other has at their worst, darkest moments.

I just love them a lot, okay?

[enrosadiraanisaaa]

Underground Alliance

.Chapter Two.

Haha, finally back with another chapter! I initially planned to post this on Sept 30th, but got postpone with two family members hospitalized weeks back to back. Finally managed to add the finishing touches and excited to post this chapter.

This story is purely written with RE 2 (Remake) Leon in mind. Yes, my puppy dog boy is all the focus in this one.

Takes place in 1999, Racoon City is not in flames yet!

Yes, I'm terrible at uploading fast, but believe me when I will finish this with the other one!

Loosely based on the first Fast and the Furious movie with real life stories mixed in from my childhood.

I have not decided yet on the rating but expect: Car Sex, Betrayal, Penetrative Sex, Manipulation (sorta), Public Sex, Violence... And more to come!

Summary

After a series of recent hijackings of Umbrella equipment, Leon Kennedy is sent undercover in the street racing scene to find a notorious perpetrator named to be orchestrating these attacks. Leon struggles with his visage as a street racer while upholding his own morals as a police officer. As a young street racer, you aspire to reign and topple the influence of a major corporation that has its clutches on Raccoon City. Yet, plans are thwarted when an ambitious blonde tries to join the ranks of the most skilled racer.

Please enjoy and comment your thoughts~ Anisssa أَنِيْسَة

Midnight Pretender

     All eyes observed in silent awe between the victor and the poor soul about to forfeit his vehicle. For spectators, the sight was nothing new regarding those who challenged the notorious El Jefe, the aftermath of the race providing a performance worth witnessing. When El Jefe crosses that finish line, the contender loses their shit along with their car. So here the people surround the duo under the brink of night to witness this cocky kid surrender a rare car. 

     As the crowd meddles around the two opposing vehicles, the weight of defeat anchors Leon’s feet beside the Skyline. The Supra’s car door widens, and two leather-heeled boots settle on the pavement. Beyond the glimpse of boots, Leon peers at the woman steadily sauntering around the R34. Each step of your heels echoes as you inspect the Skyline, leaving a streak upon the carbon fiber hood with your pointer finger. A pornographic moan emits from your mouth and you bite your bottom cherry-colored lip.

     “Never thought I would ever see one of these in the flesh, only on the front cover page of those Ricer magazines…” Your voice interrupts the silence, flickering your eyes to his blue orbs once you are directly in front of the blonde. Despite the intimidating exterior you parade, Leon heeds your height as he peers down at you. From the tight-laced skirt and fur-lined jacket that hugged your figure, it was evident that you flaunted yourself to an elevated standard compared to the other women here.

         While you stand before the blonde, Leon’s breath stifles as the adrenaline from the race continues to brew within his body. The night air was noticeably brisk, the breeze gently flaring your hair along with it. Never would Leon have suspected El Jefe to be a woman. But those thoughts are temporarily suppressed when he notices your head shake at the sight of him and your lips part to deliver several tsks. If he had not been in this peculiar situation, he would have found your demeanor exotic, not an individual scrutinized before a dubious jury.

      “Every advantage was literally in your hands, yet… you still managed to lose this race. Can’t say I’m not disappointed though…” There was a distinct conviction in your voice, and he finally understood why the people were drawn to the enigmatic facade you presented. El Jefe was their source of light in the night, and they were moths entranced.

      “ I almost had you,” Leon rebuttals immediately, but you can hear the quiver in his voice. 

       “Almost does not win a race. Do you understand these cars are not toys for boys like you?”

       The question lingers, and everyone erupts in “Ooo” and “Dayummm” at the diss you delivered. It's apparent that Leon did not belong there, and you were the one to ensure he understood that notion. Such mockery provokes the blonde to grimace and shift where he stands, although Leon stays in place.

      A grin forms on your lips, yet Leon knows better that the expression was by no means cordial. Almost like a predator stalking prey, your eyes bore into his cobalt blues and you lean your torso to his chest. 

   “What’s your name?”

      The proximity evokes Leon to bend slightly back from your intrusive presence, the heat emitting from your body was somehow enticing in this chilly night. A pink hue blooms on his cheeks while heat consumes his entire face. Leon was stupefied, inhaling your leather and floral mixed scent that he staggered to speak a proper word. With several blinks and an agape mouth, he eventually regains his composure with firm lips.

     “Leon… Leon Santoro.” The name leaves the tip of his tongue like a foreign taste as he unveils his identity before everyone.

     Murmurs resonate across the crowd, and some women develop an interest in the newcomer despite his defeat. However, your eyebrows pique at the articulation of his name, repeating it in a soundless whisper.

    “Hmm? Is that Italian or some shit?” You sneer, retreating your body away from the blonde to return your attention to the R34. “Well, Leon Santoro… you can tell your daddy that you just lost this car.” With a hand on the hood, a handprint manifests on the carbon fiber material as if you were marking territory on the car. 

    Leon’s head shook in opposition to your decree, bewildered at the incivility in your nature. “Wait a damn minute! I’m not handing over this car…” He protested, slamming his hand on the hood of the car beside yours. Several men instantly step closer to the duo in the scenario that Leon becomes physical with you. 

      Although, your raised hand halts their movement as chuckles escape your mouth. Even though Leon was taller, nothing was intimidating about the blond. “So cute… I didn’t know you could bark!” 

  Your hand retracts from the hood of the Skyline. For the time being, there is a need to build distance from Leon. “My dear friend, Julio, did warn you of the conditions of the race. You lost, this car compensates for my time. You don’t deserve this car with the way you manhandle it. Poor ass gear shifting, I would be surprised if you didn’t fuck up the transmission. Now surrender that pink slip…” 

    Patience was visibly waning with how your eyes narrowed and your lips pursed. Leon then notices your arm extend your palm out to him as if you outrightly expect him to hand you the title of the R34 right then and there. Every word spoken was accurate, but Leon was reluctant to admit his prior agreement to the terms. His teeth bit the inside of his cheek while he hesitantly removed his hand from the hood.

    If this was the means to establish a foundation of trust with El Jefe,  Leon needed to keep his cool in front of you. “Fine. You’re right, my apologies. I will hand over the title to you. Oh, but how will I get home from here?” Leon blurts out in amusement, obviously laced with a hint. This insolent asshole had the nerve to plaster a cheeky grin on his face. 

    To his question, you scoff shrugging your shoulders. “That’s something for you to figure out, pretty boy.”

    Pretty boy. That was new among the other annoying nicknames he was bestowed.

    Although a bystander attentive to the police scanner hears the female dispatcher distinctively speak, “Reported street racing East of Circular River along industrial factories…”

    “Shit! Guys! Cops incoming!”  On cue, sirens blared from the distance while red and white lights danced simultaneously on the factory buildings in their attempt to block the racers. The party was over, and everyone dispersed to their respective vehicles in mass panic. Roars of engines and tire screeches deafen over the police sirens as cars drive in all directions to evade arrest. 

      The chaotic scene amplifies with every passing second—a sea of modded cars chased by police vehicles. Even with the impending risk of arrest, your eyes glare at the blonde beside the Skyline. Due to the circumstances, only a bittersweet departure from the vehicle allowed the prospect of fleeing the scene. Sounds of sirens nudge your boots to circle Leon’s car to your Supra, feeling a tinge of panic until you open the driver’s door and secure yourself inside. When the car’s window slips fully down, you offer the blonde one last glare before the Supra veers off in haste. 

     Now alone amidst the mayhem, Leon retreats inside the Skyline and hastily turns the ignition key, restoring life to the machine.  Leon watches in trepidation, witnessing how the Supra interweaves through police cars attempting to block it. Yet, before Leon could comprehend what he perceived, another car suddenly collided with the side of the Supra. Even amongst the overwhelming sounds, tire screeches and glass breaking reach his ears. The Supra skids to the side from the impact, eventually ceasing movements entirely. Despite the other car’s front being mangled, the person reverses and speeds off without regard to the condition of the person inside the Supra. The air hazes when smoke releases from the car.

     A maelstrom of conflicting emotions brews within Leon, a testament when he notices your body slumped against the wheel. He feigned to vanish from the area to avoid blowing his cover or help you. His passion for valuing human life overrides any lingering conflicting thought, eliciting him to simply shift gears and drift near the Supra. You were his mission after all…

   Once Leon bursts the driver’s door open, his eyes glance down at a puddle of leaking oil on the pavement from the Supra and the motionless body in the driver’s seat. The passenger side of the Supra was utterly caved in from the side. “Jefe…” He utters yet no answer is reciprocated from you. His hands reach inside the open window to unlock the driver’s door from inside before nearly ripping it open. Knocked out and unconscious, the blonde was relieved to glimpse breaths from your mouth.

   “Holy fuck…” Leon's breath hitches at the sight of your forehead. Blood seeps from a wide gash, an open wound that he would assume required medical attention. Faint sirens became notable, prompting the Rookie to concentrate on the situation at hand. There was no time, Leon repositioned your limp body on the car seat. His hands grab at your supple flesh to carry you bridal style to the passenger seat of the Skyline. Leon internally thanked the physical training from when he was at the police academy, molding his strength to carry wanted criminals. Once placed on the seat, Leon secured your body with a snap of the seat belt. Fortunately for you both, Leon evades the police and speeds to a nearby park.

    A groan emits from your lips, and your hand ghosts over the searing wound. The sudden noise prompts Leon to momentarily veer his concentration from the road to the woman in the passenger seat.

     “Hey! Are you alright?” 

   Instead of an immediate response, another groan sounds from your lips. “Oh God, please shut up. Your voice is giving me a headache…”

  “Damn, why are you so rude? I’m just wanting to help you,” Leon mutters, letting out a huff as he swerves the Nissan into the dark parking lot of the park. 

   Except for Leon’s car, the area was desolate and lacked light, a perfect location to murder someone. No soul in sight, maybe karma caught up and Leon was sent as your executioner. “Guess we’re here to finish me off? Huh?” You question him in assurance while your eyes examine the wooded area. Raccoon Park.

     Although tempted to respond “yes” to your paranoid antics, Leon held his tongue. “No, you think I saved your ass to bring you here? It would have been easier to have left you for the cops…”

     That fight in you dwindled, thoughts meddling that Leon spared you from the mercy of the police. As much as you desired to continue your banter with the blonde, the principal brought the prospect to mind. Nonetheless, your lips pursed while you maintained an averted gaze from those damn blue eyes.

     “Thank you…” The words of gratitude were whispered under your breath, conceding to his endeavors.

         Without warning, Leon’s fingers suddenly directs your chin to face him, his eyes drawn to inspect the gash on your forehead. “That’s a nasty wound… maybe I should drive you to the hospital. It’s swelling,” He relents, his blue orbs flicking to your eyes. 

      “No thanks,” You retorted, pushing his hand from your chin, and shifting away from him. “I’m starving…” You admit, patting the fabric on your stomach.

     “Jefe… you need medical attention. You were just in a serious car wreck-” Leon proceeds to rant but is cut off by your pointer finger pressed on his lips. 

   “Shhh. Shut up, just drive to the nearest Waffle House… I’m fucking fine, fucking starving,” You attempt to quiet him, gesturing him to drive.

    A huff emits from him, shifting the gear to drive out of the dark parking lot. “God, has anyone ever told you how demanding you are? You should get that checked out,” Leon briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road. 

     Only a chuckle responds to his question, finding amusement in his question. “My whole life…”

     After a while, the grand familiar yellow glow of the Waffle House comes into sight, and Leon parks the Skyline directly in front. Being the gentleman that Leon is, he hastes around the car to the passenger side to open the door for you. 

   “Dude, I'm injured, not fucking crippled!” You seethe, standing from the passenger seat, wincing from the pain with every minimal movement. To spare himself from another quarrel,  Leon steps back to allow room for you to move, combing his hand through his dirty blonde locks. From the way your body stood stiff and the hiss from your mouth, he assumed the impact from the collision afflicted your body. All Leon could do was watch you limp to the restaurant in discomfort since you would protest his offer to help.

    Once inside, Leon strolls behind you until he can accompany you to a booth and sits across. That stench of cigarettes penetrated his senses and wrinkled his nose, causing him to ponder your adamant selection in this restaurant. A waitress introduces herself, handing you and Leon a menu.

     “I know what I want,” You utter to the waitress, tapping on the menu. The waitress nods, pulling out her notepad and pen in preparation to write your order. 

       “I want the All-Star breakfast. Scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and hash browns smothered. Very smothered,” You inform the waitress with a polite smile, the only genuine smile Leon has noticed you dawn. 

     “Do you want anything on your waffle?” The waitress then asks, glancing at your face from her notepad.

    In response, you nod with a cheeky smile, ”Chocolate chips, please.”

    Just nearly an hour ago, Leon was confronted by the most intimidating woman in the racing scene, now eating a chocolate chip-covered waffle before him like a little girl. There with a forkful of eggs and piece of waffle in your mouth, and Leon slumps back against the cushioned backrest of the booth.

   “How come you didn’t get anything?” You inquire, flickering your eyes from the food on your plate to the blond man across the table. “Eating by myself feels weird… And I would have paid for you,” You add, stuffing another forkful in your mouth. 

       Leon’s face burns with a pink hue at the offer, although he held a tinge of suspicion at your generosity. “Uh… It’s a bit too late for me to eat,” He mentions, glancing at the gash on your forehead. “How are you feeling with your- you know,” His hand gestures to his head concerning your wound.

     The fork in your hand tosses a piece of egg on your plate as you contemplate the occurrence of events. “Honestly could be worse… but damn, do you know how many grands I put into that Supra? But that’s okay, the Nissan Skyline is the jack of all trades. Even with stock parts, she can even beat American muscle…” You relent, peering beyond the window to where the Skyline is parked. It was almost perverse as every inch of the car was examined by your gaze. 

    Leon directs his attention to the Skyline parked there in front of the restaurant, relieved they are able to escape the scene alive at least. Although, the indication that you were still expecting to acquire the car, Leon could not help but exhale harshly through his nose. “Actually… I was hoping you would let me keep my car…” Leon trails off, immediately ceasing speaking.

         “Pretty boy, we raced and I won-” You began, using the fork to cut a piece of the waffle, the chocolate obscenely smeared on the plate. “Believe me when I say you’re in my good graces. Most people would have left me to be arrested or hell, die… But you didn’t. Even then, it would be almost a sin for me to let a rare prize slip from my possession. I’m not waiting 25 years, till what…  2023 or 2024 when they’re legal to import. I’ll be in my 40s, and I want to retire with one already under my care…” You justify to Leon, extending the fork across the table to him as a peace offering. His head jolts at the sudden piece of food in front of his face, noticing how the waffle was threatening to slide off.

    “Say ahh,” You part your lips, pressing the fork to his lips until he reluctantly opens his mouth.

     The mixture of chocolate and syrup was overwhelming to his taste buds, but chewed enough to swallow it down. A firm frown lined his lips, unable to tolerate the sweet taste lingering in his mouth. 

   “How about this, Santoro… keep the car tonight. But tomorrow night, I expect it in my garage. We can exchange cars with whatever pick from my collection…” You iterate with a cheeky smirk from his discomfort. Your hand pulls out your wallet from your jacket, tugging out a few $20s to drop on the table before standing from the booth. Leon peers at the few $20 dollar bills piled on the table, bewildered to why you would exceed more than what you needed to pay.

    “Let’s go, Santoro,” You call to him, already on the verge of opening the entrance door. Leon follows suit, politely waving to the waitress and cook behind the counter. The rookie observes how your legs limp to the passenger door, prompting him to sigh. “Hey, I could help you walk…” He blurts out, but instantly regrets his own words as he witnesses the features of your face cringe. 

     “Can you just unlock the damn car? It’s almost 2AM, people start leaving the bars at this time. I need this car in one piece.” Your palm thumps on the top of the Skyline, an apparent contradiction to the blonde. 

       Leon clicks his tongue, strolling to the driver’s side and unlocks the doors. “Am I dropping you off? Where do you live?” He inquires while turning the ignition. The purrs of the engine resonated throughout the entire car, and you swore the vibration stirred something between your thighs. 

     “How else would the fuck I get home? East from here, near downtown off Euston Street,” You answer, settling back on the passenger seat.

        It was enough information for Leon to steer the R34 away from the Waffle House, mindful to avoid the downtown area of Raccoon City. Dead of night, the roads were empty except for the occasional semi truck. Those photos of the injured truck drivers for Umbrella burned in his mind and served as a reminder to his objective. With occasional glances, Leon realized that exhaustion lulled you to sleep. This night proved to have taken an entire toll on your body. Just in mere minutes, the notorious El Jefe dozed off on his passenger set. Steady breaths raised your chest and your eyelashes were prominent. Now with the cards in his play, Leon became aware how you were practically in the palms of his hands on the edge with certainty of obtaining your trust. Only if he could laugh in Eliot’s smug face at this moment. 

       Eventually Leon gradually slows the Skyline when he enters Euston street, speculating which house down the dark street belonged to you. His hand rouses your sleeping form with a gentle shake on the shoulder, observing how your eyelashes flutter. Several grumbles leave your lips, wearily annoyed to be awoken until the familiar surroundings outside the car register within your mind. “We’re here already, huh?” Your voice almost whines.

     “Mhhm,” Leon confirms, waiting for your directive to the house you lived in. 

     “Shit, I’m so tired… Uh, it’s three houses down. One story with a wide white patio and a large magnolia tree in the front lawn,” You point in the distance, prompting the blonde to cautiously drive the car to the matched description lair you call home. Maybe it was the manner you flaunted yourself before everyone earlier at the races, but Leon assumed El Jefe would reside within a luxurious grand mansion. The house was neither extravagant nor impoverished,- just oddly humble.

    Once the Skyline halts along the curve, your hand gravitates to the door handle before whirling to the blonde in the driver’s seat. “I expect this car to be delivered by 6PM tomorrow, before the sun sets. And as agreed, a peek at my collection…” You wink and pull the car lever to open the door. Discomfort was still evident to how your body straightened out of the R34, groans weakly sound. “Wear something nice and casual, not whatever dorkish shit you're wearing. Can’t let people believe I let anyone hang around me,” You taunt with a grin on your face, closing the passenger door and walking around the car to the walkway that leads to the entrance door.  

 When the sight of you disappears behind the door, the rookie releases a staggered breath that has been held in since the arrival at your house. The hooks were in, yet Leon needed to strategize how to reel you in. A rev from the engine soars as Leon U-turns out the street, returning to the main road. Both hands grip the steering wheel, so giddy from how this sole night progressed. Although, the time was entirely late and he would have pair up with Eliot to understand his absence. For what the obstacles were worth, the outcome compelled Leon to appreciate the beauty of the night. Beyond the dark clouds, Leon could glimpse the silver lining of the full moon. If Leon remembered correctly from the morning news, tomorrow night would entail the Wolf’s Moon. There were no goodbyes exchanged, only a demand placed, not a question. 

          And Leon knew he should have not been disappointed by the lack of. 

[byoldervine]

How do you know what writing advice will and won't work for you?

The only real way to know is by trying them out and giving them a reasonable chance to start working, but knowing what kind of writing style you have can help you know where to look

1. Are you a plotter or a pantser? Most writers are some variety of plotter, but that doesn’t mean that they’re on the same level of plotting. Some plotters like a few bullet points of the overall story while others like detailed notes on each chapter and scene. Figure out where you are on that scale

2. Which stage of your WIP are you in? I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again; most writing advice is in relation to editing rather than plotting. This leaves a lot of writers in the earlier stages of their project trying to apply editing tips to a blank page, and it’s no wonder why that rarely ever works out. You can generally leave that kind of advice for after you’ve finished your first draft

3. How consistent can you be? Even people just writing for a bit of fun will benefit from having some level of consistency, even if it’s something small. How often can you write without it feeling like a chore? What time frame can you repeat this in without burning out? I do 1000 words per week, but changing the metrics to anything at all is not only fine but encouraged - all that matters is that you do what you’re happy with without burning yourself out over it

4. Do you write best linearly or non-linearly? The default tends to be to write in order, but for a lot of people that isn’t as helpful. Knowing when to write the exciting part and when to focus on the build up is invaluable, especially when one works better for you than the other

[thevalkyriesshadow]

How did I not realize WIP Wednesdays were a thing??? Soooo

Here's my first WIP Wednesday post! 💖

A snippet from Chapter 4 of Break Bones, Not Hearts:

Azriel did not go into his kitchen with the intent of cutting his hand, but his favorite mug had other plans. He didn’t know whether to be more devastated about his favorite tea cup shattering on the kitchen tile, or the deep cut that was now gushing blood from his palm.  On the bright side, it now presented the opportunity for him to maybe see a certain copper-haired tech. So, one train ride across town later (and passing at least two other hospitals that were perfectly valid options), Azriel was strolling into Velaris University Hospital, clutching a towel to the palm of his hand. He debated for a moment if he should be responsible and get his grievous wound checked out first, then try and find Gwyn, or if he should just head right up to Radiology.

A snippet from Part 2 of my anon whump ask for Azriel breaking a bone (interesting coincidence with my other fic I'm now realizing 😆):

Gwyn didn't leave Azriel’s side.  After she held the shadowsinger's face in her bloody and dirty hands. After their tears mixed together as she cried with her mate…for her mate - she sat back on her heels and placed a hand over his heart, the other his abdomen. Then she prayed.  She bent her head and asked the Mother for Her all consuming love and healing. To bless her with it, fill her so that she could imbue Azriel with everything she was given and more. The healing magic of the Mother thrummed through her veins. A warm pulse that caused the invoking stone resting against her forehead to glow a vibrant blue. 

A snippet from a longer story I'm working on with dragons and a captured Gwyn 😈

It was with Gwyn that Azriel found peace. A home, and he wanted to share that with her - mating bond or no mating bond - because admittedly. He liked Gwyn. No. He loved her. Loved her beyond anything he had ever felt before.  Azriel wanted to spend every waking moment with Gwyn. So tonight - tonight he’d tell her his feelings for her, and hope and pray to the Mother that she felt the same way too.  They bid their friends good night and started walking towards the bridge. “Care for a ride?” His wings stretched and flapped. She smiled and nodded. Placing an arm behind her back, another hooked under her knees, he took off. He noted Gwyn’s unusual silence, “Something on your mind?” She traced a pattern on his shirt with a finger, sending chills across his skin. “Just -.” She glanced up at him, “- thinking about the exciting day we had. I’ve never seen you dance before - outside of court duties. It was highly entertaining.” He chuckled, “Don’t get too used to it. That was a rare moment of weakness.” Gwyn threw her head back laughing, the sound filling Azriel with the most intoxicating feeling. They came down on the training pitch in a swirling spiral. Gwyn straightened her bright teal dress that matched her eyes. The neckline sat just a top her breasts, her freckles fully on display. Her bodice hugged her just right and the skirt flared out slightly at the hips. Images of her twirling around and around during the day’s festivities swam through his head. “So, Shadowsinger, you said earlier you had something you wanted to ask me?” Her head tilted, a smile sat upon her face as she waited for his question. Azriel’s gut clenched with nerves. If he could face legions of armies, he could ask the female before him if he could properly court her. Gwyn’s brows rose the longer Azriel went without speaking, “Az?” He blinked, “Gwyn, I -”  Stairs. His shadows whispered to him. His head whipped around to the stairs that wound up to the training ring. "What is it?” Gwyn asked, bending around him to see. Azriel held up a hand, a command for silence. Maybe it was nothing, but… A scrape of feet, haggard breathing. From the shadows of the archway, Roslin appeared. Gwyn gasped in horror. Roslin was covered in blood, her priestess robes torn and frayed, a sword hung from her exhausted hand. She had one long cut on the side of her face, a bloodied lip, and bruised eye. She got to the top and collapsed. Azriel rushed forward, “Roslin?” He gently picked her up under her arms, Gwyn by his side instantly. “What happened?” She swallowed, “Illyrian warriors. They attacked - “

[wheels-of-despair]

Worth It | Ralph Penbury x You | Masterlist

{<-Previous} [The Dance] {Next->}

Summary: Your mother forces you to go to a Valentine's Day dance with a dull date, but Ralph manages to make your night worthwhile. Words: 2k

Note: This is a new and improved version of a Valentine's Day story that was originally a one-shot, but somehow it grew into a 40k word series containing 20 chapters. This story will not contain smut, but Ralph and I would still prefer it if anyone interacting was a confirmed adult. Please note that Worth It lives on a blog that blocks blank and ageless accounts, so if you are interacting with it, your age needs to be in your bio.

"Hello! You look simply radiant this morning. I hate to bother you, but I wondered, would you care to attend the Valentine's Day Dance with me?" He spoke so quickly, it took you a moment to process it all.

You'd just stepped outside your front gate, on your way to mail a letter to your aunt, and Ralph Penbury was suddenly right there in front of you, as if he'd been waiting behind a shrub for you to appear.

"Oh, I'm… I'm sorry, Ralph. I wish I could, but someone else is taking me." His face fell and turned red.

"I'm so sorry for bothering you, I hope you have a fabulous time," he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which wasn't much, and then turned on his heel and scurried away.

"Ralph…" you called at his retreating back, wanting to explain. "Ralph!" He pretended not to hear, darting to the other side of the street so fast that you had no hopes of catching him.

You wish he'd asked you three days earlier.

You'd met the Penburys a few years ago. You were slightly older than the twins, but your mothers were part of the same social club, so you often ended up mingling at the events they dragged you to.

Victoria was loud, brash, and unbearable. The most self-centered person you'd ever met. Victoria dominated every conversation, and had no qualms about using her shrill voice to interrupt, should the subject not please her. You'd spent many an event thinking about bludgeoning her to death with various objects in your vicinity. Candlesticks. The base of a festive floral centerpiece. The chair she was sitting in. Her own shoe.

Her brother Ralph, however, fascinated you. Mostly because he hadn't smothered her in her sleep yet. The willpower that must've taken! Ralph was a true gentleman. And he was pretty funny too, on the rare occasion he was able to get a word in. He smiled often, and his eyes would shine with excitement when the conversation turned to something that interested him. (Not that he was ever allowed to chime in.) Sometimes he tried so hard to keep in an outburst, he would literally shake. He reminded you of an excited puppy; sweet, innocent, and in desperate need of someone to play with. If only you could get him away from his sister long enough to get to know him.

On the night of the Valentine's Day dance, your mother flitted and fussed about you more than usual, making sure every last detail of the silky pink dress that she'd commissioned especially for you was absolutely perfect.

You hated it.

The doorbell rang, and your mother clasped her hands and nearly fainted with excitement. You tried very hard not to roll your eyes. Checking that every hair on your head was still perfectly in place, your mother finally gave you a nod of approval, and led the way downstairs to meet Donald Andrews in the entrance hall.

You hated him.

This nightmare was entirely your meddling mother's doing. She'd had a hand in every detail of this night, from the venue her club had booked for the dance, to the boring boy escorting you there, to the shop he'd purchased your flowers from.

You hated her.

He stood there smiling stupidly in his freshly pressed suit, back straight, blonde hair plastered down, holding two matching bouquets: one for you, and one for your mother. He greeted her first, handing her a tacky bouquet with a flourish. She giggled like a schoolgirl.

You hated them both.

You'd suffered through exactly one dance with the most boring boy you'd ever met before retreating to a table and drowning your sorrows in whatever kind of non-alcoholic punch the responsible adults chaperoning this event had provided.

Donald's friends and their dates came to rest at your table between dances. Every single girl asked why you weren't dancing with your dreamy date. You told them you'd twisted your ankle during the first dance. An outright lie, but Donald, ever the boring gentleman, wouldn't dispute it. You glanced at the clock and heaved a sigh.

You passed the evening by discovering creative ways to fold your napkin, ignoring the crowd of Donald's gossiping friends around you until they suddenly fell silent.

You looked up to see what had caught their attention.

Ralph Penbury, dressed in a fancy new suit, was asking a pretty redhead to dance on the other side of the room. He was so excited, or perhaps so nervous, he was shaking. You thought it was adorable. They'd make a cute couple.

The girl threw her head back and laughed, then turned back to her friends. Ralph stood there, looking crushed. You felt your own heart drop, as if you'd been the one on the receiving end of this rejection. What was wrong with her? Could she not see how precious this sweet boy was? Then Donald Andrews and all his idiotic friends roared with laughter, and your sadness turned to rage.

Ralph looked up and saw the table guffawing in his direction, and he froze. You stood up suddenly, knocking your chair over, and started weaving your way through the buffoons. Your elbow caught the back of several heads in your haste to get away from them. You hoped it hurt. Ralph had turned to leave by the time you escaped the tangle of limbs surrounding your table. Dodging dancing couples in the center of the room, you didn't take your eyes off of him.

He was nearly at the exit by the time you caught up with him, still walking slowly with his head down.

"Ralph?" you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face you, eyes brimming with tears. Your heart felt like it could burst.

"Don't pay those idiots any mind," you said gently. "They all share a single brain, and whoever was supposed to have custody of it tonight must've left it at home." He giggles, causing a single tear to spill over. He wipes it away quickly.

"Are you leaving? I was hoping I could ask you for a dance before you go. Or maybe we could go sit outside for a while and cool off?" You may hate these events, but you know he loves them. You wouldn't let those blockheads ruin his Valentine's Day.

"Really?" He sounds hopeful. You smile and nod, waiting for him to make the next move.

He returns your smile and extends his hand. You place your palm in his and give it a squeeze, letting him lead you back onto the dance floor. The song is a slow one, which is nice, because this is the longest you've ever managed to get him alone. You'd never realized how eager you were to talk to him.

A moment of silence passes as you get situated and begin to dance, but it's not an uncomfortable one; just two casual acquaintances getting used to being so close to each other.

"Your date looks angry. Should I have asked his permission?" He asks with a worried glance to his left.

You let out a laugh, a genuine laugh, the first of its kind all day.

"That boy is the dullest creature I have ever encountered." Ralph looks confused, so you continue. "My mother set all this up. That's what I was trying to tell you the day you asked me to come with you. She accepted his invitation on my behalf. Picked out this hideous dress and the torturous shoes that go with it. This is all her doing. If I had my way, I'd be at home, reading in my pajamas."

"Why?"

"Why would I rather be at home reading in my pajamas?"

"Why did she make you come with someone you don't like?"

"I think he's her last hope." You sigh. "You see, Ralph, my mother's greatest fear is not war or famine or even snakes. Her greatest fear is that I wind up a spinster like my Aunt Molly. Who is doing quite well for herself, by the way! Large house all to herself… an impressive library… several cats to choose from when she needs a cuddle…" You trail off and sigh dramatically in the direction of the chandelier, with a dreamy look on your face, hoping you've amused him.

He laughs, the trauma of a few minutes ago already forgotten. He launches into a passionate speech about cats, then dogs, and you wonder if this is the longest he's ever been allowed to speak at once.

You hate dancing almost as much as you hate being dragged to these stupid events. You really do. But here, dancing with Ralph as he chatters away excitedly, it suddenly dawns on you that you're actually enjoying yourself. You're only on your second dance, but somehow, all the pain and suffering and boring gossip about who's wearing what and who'd gained weight that you'd had to endure tonight seemed like a distant memory. This? This made it all worthwhile.

When Ralph finally pauses to take a breath, you seize the opportunity to make a confession.

"I didn't want to come to this… but now, I'm glad I did."

"Why?" he asks, oblivious at the hint you're trying to drop.

"Because I got to dance with you."

Ralph's face turns a deep shade of crimson, and he's unable to control the giggle that bubbles from his throat. You laugh with him, because it's so cute, you can hardly stand it. This is the best dance you've ever been forced to attend. You're so enamored by him, you don't even notice Victoria's shrill laugh cutting through the air, or the blisters forming on your feet from the shoes that were manufactured in Hell.

You suddenly feel a chill run up your spine, and as Ralph turns you on the dance floor, you catch a glimpse of a very red face glowering at you from behind the giant crystal punch bowl.

"Oh, no," you groan. The moment is ruined, the spell is broken.

"What is it?" Ralph asks, on the brink of panic already.

"My mother's spotted us. If she gets any redder, I think her head will explode." Ralph looks worried, like he's going to be in trouble, but it gives you a delightfully devious idea. "I bet if she saw us kiss, it would tip her over the edge. Shall we try?"

Ralph's eyes widen, and he nods feverishly. Smiling, you stand on your tiptoes in your dreadful shoes and capture his lips in a kiss. He doesn't move. You pull back and look up at him, standing completely still with his eyes blank. Is he still breathing? Have you broken him? You'd better check just to be sure. You come back in for one, two, three more short and soft kisses that he happily returns, now that the shock has worn off. Yes, coming out tonight was definitely worth it.

You see your mother advancing out of the corner of your eye.

"Meet me on the bridge in the park tomorrow at noon," you whisper. Ralph gives you a puzzled look. "If you don't see me again, she's killed me, but know that my last night on this earth was worth it." Her claw circles your wrist and tugs you away, steam billowing out of her ears. "It was worth it!" you yell back over your shoulder with a grin.

Ralph stands there, in the middle of the dance floor, watching your mother escort you from the building. He reaches up and touches the lips that had just touched yours. You were right. It was worth it.

Thank You To: @heyndrix, for being my #1 cheerleader, keeping me on track, and not blocking me for the constant teasing. @pollenallergie, for her unwavering enthusiasm. @eddiemunsonsmum for letting me rant and ramble in her general direction. @spookyscarydemonbabe for writing the cutest freakin' Ralph stories that definitely kept my Ralph Juices flowing on lazy writing days.

[bohemian-nights]

Arlī(Anew)Chapter 7

Word Count: ~9,934

Rating: 18+

Warnings⚠️: Uncle/niece incest; violence; blood; minor smut

Description: Love is not a precursor to marriage. Nor is it a requirement. Love matches are rare. Even rarer are those who grow to love one another.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact.

Sorry this took a little longer than expected. The holidays are crazy 🫠

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

—————————————🐉————————————

131 AC- Dragonstone

Marriage is an institution. It is the oldest institution in existence. The very foundation of polite and chivalrous society. It can be characterized by duty, affection, and fidelity though the latter two are rare to find in most unions. Love is not a precursor to marriage. Nor is it a requirement. Love matches are rare. Even rarer are those who grow to love one another.

For those fortunate enough to be born high in society we marry those who we are told to. Duty and love are like oil in water in most unions. Perhaps the institution is kinder to those who are less fortunate. Matrimony can be a joyful gift to those lucky enough to have been blessed by the Maiden, but so few are.

Liberation within its sacred vows is few and far between. This is the case for women especially. A woman is first the property of her father and then later her husband. Devoting her life to both. She lives in service of others. To be a devoted daughter to birth her husband's heirs. When she fails that duty she is shamed. Cast aside if not physically she is mentally iced out. She is looked down upon. Reprimanded for her faults, but when she succeeds she is the embodiment of the mother herself.

Marriage of course has its benefits for women as well as men. It offers the chance for a legacy. A way of serving past death. Cheating the very nature of mortality. Life is fleeting, but we can live from beyond the grave. Through our children, we go on. We endure for them so that we may preserve in some fashion or another. It brings legitimacy to children created within its union. The role of marriage at its heart. We all have our parts to play.

Naerys went into her marriage with the same expectations as most highborn women. She did not ask for much. She knew her duty. She was to bear her husband a male heir and at least a spare. She was to educate her children in the customs of old Valyria. If the Gods willed it she would fill the halls of Dragonstone with plenty of children to go around.

There had been a time when she had seemingly failed this duty, that the princess had thought she would have to share her husband with another, but that time had thankfully passed. Though doubts lingered in the back of her mind, the past was the past. She could not change it. Nor would she wish to. Her deck had been set. The cards had been handed out. She would make the best of the hand that she had been dealt. It had not been a bad hand in the end.

Where the first five years of her marriage had been hectic, full of uncertainty and pain, the past eleven years of Naerys' marriage had been as close to felicity as she had ever reached. Daemon was a loyal and attentive husband. Though he could be hot-headed and brash he was a passionate and devoted man. She could not complain. She had more than she could have ever dreamed of.

Nothing could beat her husband's smile when he was thrilled with her or something else that excited him. The way his violet eyes crinkled up at the corners brought light to his pale face. His boisterous laughter filled her up, warming her up on cold nights as he held her in his arms after a heated round of lovemaking.

Her uncle's consideration of her needs was unparalleled. Over the years he had grown to value her opinion above all others. Seeking her council for decisions or problems that arise with their vessels and Dragonstone’s small folk. The day-to-day of their household was left mostly in Naerys' care. An arrangement that worked out the best for both.

Rarely did Daemon miss their evening rides on Silverwing and Caraxes around their island. Nor the chance to recount each other’s days over a cup of warm mulled wine while they sat by the fire. The Targaryen couple relished the time that they spent in each other’s company. Whether it be sharing a simple meal in their chambers solar, reading texts of various natures to each other, or a shared bath to wash off the stress of the day. Daemon always made time for his little wife no matter how busy their days got.

When Naerys had given birth to Daenys and no sons had followed after she had grown weary, her husband had not seemed to mind that his heir came in the form of a girl. Her strength regrew from his conviction. Their daughter was a blessing from the Gods. A miracle that they cherished above all else. Anyone who asked the Rogue Prince’s true opinion on the issue of his lack of sons would receive a firm challenge. “Why would I wish for sons when I have my little dragon?” They would not make the mistake of questioning the prince again or his daughter's position as his heir.

A sweet sentiment, but Naerys had held out a silent hope that her womb would quicken again the first three years after Aenys birth. That the maesters had been wrong. That she would be able to give her husband a son and heir. Praying to the mother every time she lay with her husband and he released inside her that his seed would take, They had not been. By the fourth year after their son's tragic birth, it became clear that Daenys would remain their sole living child.

Daenys was a vivacious girl with a charming disposition. She excelled in needlepoint, dancing, and court etiquette as well as high Valyrian, literature, and ancient histories. She found politics and sums to be tedious, struggling especially with the latter, but she rarely gave her septa or Maester Orly's much trouble for it. Much to her father's disappointment, and her mother's relief, she did not enjoy swordplay, but she had grown to love archery almost as much as her daily rides upon the slender dragon she had named Moonbeam.

Though the young princess had her mother's looks she had inherited her father’s stubbornness. Preferring to do things as she saw fit though she could be persuaded to see the merits in others' opinions if she was given enough reason to. Daenys was a true daughter of House Targaryen. Every inch the Valyrian beauty, standing tall with her silver curls, honey complexion, and violet eyes she had inherited from her father. Her loveliness only grew with each passing name day. The young princess was shaping up to be a fine lady of impeccable breeding.

While Daenys may not have been an ideal heir due to her sex, no one could doubt her legitimacy or her position as Daemon’s successor. She had no brothers. No other siblings legitimate or otherwise. The young princess was the sole living natural-born child of both of her parents. There could be no question of who would inherit Dragonstone after her father would depart from this earth. This was not the case for her older cousin.

The question of legitimacy was presented with Rhaenyra. The presumed heir to the Iron Throne. The firstborn daughter of the king. Born from Viserys first marriage to his late cousin Aemma. Though Rhaenyra was undoubtedly her father's eldest child, the king had since remarried. Her stepmother had given birth to four children, three of whom were sons. Viserys long hoped for heirs. Their births should have pushed her further down the line of succession except they had not and the crown princess remained heir.

Every heir has certain expectations. The continuation of the family line is one of them. Under threat of disinheritance, Rhaenyra had been married to her Velaryon cousin the late Ser Laenor. In their many moons of marriage, she birthed three sons. The eldest two, Jaecerys and Lucerys, had been named the future heir of the Seven Kingdoms and the future Lord of Tides respectively. In the king's mind, his line and Rhaenyra’s position as the heir appeared secure.

Despite Naerys' cousin claiming each dark-haired pug-nosed son Rhaenyra bore, the question of the legitimacy clung to them. Ser Laenor’s proclivities were well known. Whether the two had tried to work past his urges if the Velaryon heir was truly sterile was not known to the realm at large, but regardless of the finer details, everyone knew who really fathered the realm’s delight’s children. They were unquestionably the baseborn sons of the crown princess sired by her late lover and good brother Ser Harwin Strong.

Lord Corlys and his lady wife Princess Rhaenys said nothing publically to contradict Rhaenyra’s son's parentage for the sake of their granddaughters. The little strong sister twins, Baela and Rhaena were set to marry Jace and Luke. The elder was to be the queen of the seven kingdoms while the younger lady of Driftmark was like her grandmother before her. Privately, it was obvious that Rhaenys was less than enthused at her good daughter's lack of discretion. The fact that she had turned to her late daughter's husband as a means to provide herself with heirs had further soured their relationship.

In the wake of Ser Laenor’s death, Rhaenyra and her children fled from Driftmark. I can not bear to be in the place where my husband has died. I am so alone here uncle. All I have are my sons. An excuse and a plea. It was what she wrote to Daemon. Keeping true to his word that there were to be no more secrets between he and his young niece-wife, the Rogue Prince read over the contents of the letter to Naerys as they were preparing for bed.

When he had finished, Naerys expected her uncle to return to his writing desk. Wasting no time to extend an invitation to Rhaenyra, he kissed the worry lines that had appeared on her forehead and tossed the letter into the fire. Pulling her silver coils back from her little brown face before he bent down to capture her sweet mouth in a kiss. He began to pull the loose tie to her gown to reveal the sheer gown underneath. She shivered in the cool night air that had seeped into their solar, but she did not suffer for long. Warming up under her husband’s amorous attention.

“Ao emagon daorun naejot zūgagon issa dōna riña.” You have nothing to fear, my sweet girl. Naerys' husband wrote back to Rhaenyra in the morning. He offered her their condolences once more, but he did not offer her a place by his side in Dragonstone’s halls.

Not receiving the reply she had hoped for, Rhaenyra and her sons made their way to the Vale. Having heard of her plight Jeyne Arryn, her cousin for her the princess's mother had been an Arryn, and Lady of the Eyrie offered her a place at her hearth.

The Warden of the East was a virtuous woman who held little love for those who sought to usurp a woman’s rightful position in favor of their male relatives. She knew all too well what it was like to be looked down upon for her sex. Her own cousin Ser Arnold Arryn had twice risen against her to claim her Inheritance.

Her opinion remained low among those who sought to replace her cousin as heir due to her sex and her children's questionable legitimacy. She dismissed the claims of Rhaenyra’s son's bastard status as harsh untruths. “Your sons have inherited the Arryn look, my dear princess.”

Lady Jeyne Arryn and the crown princess got on well enough with the exception of one subject. Prince Daemon Targaryen. Lady Arryn's distaste for the Rogue Prince had been well known. She had never held a high opinion of the man, but what little regard she had held vanished after the death of Lady Rhea Royce.

“She believes I killed that unfortunate woman who I happened to have been tied to for her inheritance, little one.” Her husband's first wife was a topic that only came up a handful of times in their marriage. It was for all intents and purposes a cold barren union that had embittered them both. The two had only slept together a handful of times and saw each other with little frequency. A stark contrast to the affections he held for his niece-wife.

Naerys sometimes wondered, mostly to herself, if her uncle had done away with Lady Rhea. True enough, Daemon was away from the Runestone at the untimely death of his first wife, but he hated the woman and he hated that he was not allowed to take another for a wife. He had wasted no time in demanding his baby niece's hand in marriage when she finally succumbed to her injuries. Flying to Driftmark to claim his prize for enduring a frigid marriage bed for so long.

Curiosity got the better of Naerys when she asked in a haze of lust and Dornish Red one night if he had. Daemon laughed before breathing into her ear as he thrust his middle and index fingers into her cunt to prolong her peak. Pulling out his digit from her overspent heat when she began to whimper. Bringing their combined spends to her slightly swollen lips. A love-drunk look overtook her husband's pale face when she eagerly suckled on the pads of his fingers. “If my brother had not let me have a taste of you I would have.”

Naerys had been told that Rhaenyra would hear no ill words against her beloved uncle. “It is not his fault dear cousin. My uncle would have never turned me away had it not been for another who has crawled in his bed and takes joy in whispering fables into his ear.” Lady Jeyne spoke no more on the subject.

The Eyrie for a time became a place of diversion for the crown princess. Her cousin was gracious enough to let her have a run of her own household. Giving her the freedom she so desired as long as she did not interfere in her role as Warden of the East.

Still, life in the Vale grew dull for Rhaenyra. The ancestral seat of House Arryn was beautiful, but a small remote castle. Served the purpose of defense well, but for entertainment, it fell short even in comparison to Dragonstone which sat in half isolation. Guests were few and far between besides the young lady Strong‘s who on occasion would fly upon Baela’s mount Moondancer to visit their betrotheds.

I confess that I have grown weary of this place. Though Lady Arryn is kind, the Eyrie is not home. The crown princess had written once again to their uncle. It was Naerys who extended the offer of a visit to Dragonstone’s shore. It was in part born out of her duty as a mother.

Daenys was fast approaching her fifteenth name day. The young princess was a beauty, an accomplished dragon rider, and possessed an overall sweet disposition. She did not lack for admirers, however, her eyes were firmly set upon her cousin Aemond. A fondness that was returned in kind.

“She’s too infatuated with him.” It was said as Daemon glared at Aemond from the high table as Aemond spun Daenys around the great hall during their nephew's last visit. “And you are encouraging it little one.” The Rogue Prince had tried to separate the two after Prince Aemond had asked for his daughter's hand in marriage. An act that had ended poorly.

“Iksan ojūdan mijegon zirȳla nuncle. Wed zȳhon naejot issa isse se tradition hen īlva lentor.” I am lost without her nuncle. Wed her to me in the tradition of our house. The young prince had promised her parents that he would not remove his future bride from all that she loved. Daenys preferred the quiet tranquility of Dragonstone’s smoky shores. The Red Keep with its gossip and foul air held little appeal for the princess. Aemond truth be told found his father’s court to be tiring. It was no place to raise children. He knew that all too well. This had been the final straw for the princess’s father.

“My dear nephew, I’d sooner wed my daughter to a pig than you. At least then we’d get a meal out of it.” Daemon sniggered at his nephew who had dropped down to his knees with his sword clasped firmly between his hands in a show of fealty. The older prince's face turned to stone as he sneered down at the red faced one eyed prince. Daemon ordered him to take leave from Dragonstone. “Your nursemaid will be missing you.” A pair of guards flanked Aemond on his involuntary march to Vhagar. Taking flight without so much as a being allowed a goodbye to his young love.

Daenys had given her parents the fright of their lives when she flew from Dragonstone in the middle of a storm without so much as a trace. They had begun to expect the worst until a raven arrived from the Red Keep informing Naerys and Daemon of their daughter's whereabouts. The young princess had made the trek in perilous weather, a course of action which her cousin had advised her not to undertake, to entreat upon her uncle’s goodwill. Surely he would force his brother's hand and allow their union to take place.

When the appeal was posed by the young lovers to the dying man he was said to have turned away from his son to gaze upon his young niece with a slight look of confusion. Taking her unblemished hand in his frail one with an apologetic smile on his face. “I do not think that is wise Naerys.”

The broken-hearted young princess was retrieved from the capital with haste by her father and barred from leaving so much as her chambers without the presence of at least one of her maids. Daemon threatened to send for her old septa, but Naerys was able to calm her husband. “It was a mistake. She has learned her lesson kepus.”

Daenys complied with her parents' demands without complaint, but she was a restless girl. Her spirit would rally again. She would not be satisfied until she had gained what she wanted and Aemond was unlikely to give in unless he was told to by the young princess herself. The will of youthful pride and passion could not be underestimated.

It came as no great surprise when Daenys came to her mother begging for her help. “Ziry mazverdagon issa sōpagon muña.” He makes me laugh mother. The young princess broke down into sobs as Naerys stroked her silver curls. “Nyke kostagon daor jikagon va mijegon zirȳla” I can not go on without him.

Daemon had not mellowed much with age. Remaining every bit as stubborn as the Rogue Prince of his youth. He disliked Aemond as a match for his daughter and his opinion of him was unlikely to change, but perhaps if Daenys affections were to transfer to another of another they could move past this. Young love was fickle enough. The first passions of youth could fade just as quickly as they began.

“It is good to be among family again uncle.” In the fortnight that Rhaenyra and her sons stayed in Dragonstone’s stone halls she had made herself quite at home. Taking up residence in the Sea Dragon tower, far enough away from Naerys and her family’s residence in the Stone Drum, the princess, and her children were given free roam of the place.

Naerys was reminded of the early days of her marriage when Rhaenyra had been a constant presence in their home, though to her relief her husband did not seem half as interested in his niece this time around. He in fact had left the entertainment of the crown princess to Naerys. “You brought her here little one.” Daemon had told her with a teasing smirk when she had grumbled about her cousin's ways. Having to sit through sewing circles, dinners, and gatherings with a pinched-faced Rhaenyra had been a less than joyous experience, but for Daenys she endured it.

“Joffrey has grown so very fond of Daenys.” The three Targaryens peered down from the courtyard rafters to gaze upon their children in the training yard below. Rhaenyra and Naerys stood on opposite sides of Daemon who had pulled Naerys hand in his. A sight that had drawn the older princess’s attention as revulsion was written clearly across her pale face.

The Rogue Prince echoed the crown princess’s sentiments as he continued to draw circles with his thumb into the back of his wife’s hand. “It is truly a shame that she has no brothers.” It is a shame that your wife has given you no sons. Naerys stifled, but that did not go unnoticed by Daemon.

“As it is a shame that you had no daughters.” The crown princess’s lilac eyes brightened for a moment before her uncle continued on. “Or silver-haired sons.” Rhaenyra gave a tight-lipped smile before making her excuses. Leaving back for the safety of her guest chambers in Sea Dragon tower.

That night Naerys confessed her plan to her husband. Joffrey had not been her first choice for her daughter's potential betrothed, but she had run out of options. Daenys had found fault with every boy she had tried to thrust their daughter's way. He is too dull mother or he is too arrogant or I hate his laugh. While Rhaenyra’s youngest son was a well-mannered boy, she did not know how much longer she could take from her cousin's leering presence.

“Send them away.” Daemon had laughed lightly as he pulled her into his lap. Placing his forehead to hers. “Īlva byka zaldrīzes does daor raqagon joffrey isse bona ñuhoso nor does ziry ūndegon zȳhon hae mirros tolī than nykeā mandia. Ziry jorrāelagon daor dīnagon nykeā bastard.” Our little dragon does not like Joffrey in that way nor does he see her as anything more than a sister. She need not marry a bastard.

Naerys had dreaded telling her cousin to leave from Dragonstone’s shores. She had never been good at confrontation. Preferring to avoid it at all costs. The princess had found silence to be the best course of action when dealing with something or someone unpleasant. In the end, there had been no need for her anguish over the issue.

Two ravens arrived at Dragonstone. The first from Driftmark. The second from King's Landing. Both told the same tale. Lord Corlys Velaryon had fallen ill. A fever. Sudden and unexpected.

The Velaryon lord could not leave his bed. His wife Princess Rhaenys and their eldest granddaughter, Lady Baela, worked tirelessly to nurse him back to health. Rhaena spent most of her days praying for her grandfather's recovery in Hide Tide’s sept. It was when his condition took a turn for the worst that his brother chose to strike. The balance that they had crafted was steadily collapsing.

Ser Vaemond had always held firm to the belief that it was he and not Rhaenyra’s sons who was the rightful heir of the Driftwood Throne. He was Lord Corlys’ only living brother. He was the commander of house Velaryon’s navy. He was a true Velaryon with the undiluted blood of old Valyria running through his.

Though he had some minor disagreements with his nephews all had been in agreement that Lucerys Velaryon and his brothers were really bastards born of Strong seed. They were unfit to rule over them as the Lord of the Tides nor would they suffer through the embarrassment of house Velaryon being headed by a bastard welp of a whore. The Velaryon men had put aside their differences in support of their uncle's claim. It was with one unifying mind that Ser Vaemond, his sons, and his five nephews set sail for the Red Keep.

Naerys had always suspected that Ser Vaemond and Ser Otto Hightower had struck up a bargain with one another. They had a common enemy. The Driftwood Throne and the Iron Throne could be theirs respectively if Rhaenyra’s heirs were officially declared illegitimate. Aemond’s letter to Daenys all, but confirmed their unspoken agreement.

Tell your mother not to worry sweetling. My grandsire will be proceeding over Ser Vaemond’s petition. The king is too ill to leave his bed. Mother believes that we have worn him out from our little ambush. Naerys doubted that her uncle had been informed of the events that were transpiring around him.

Rhaenyra had been unfortunately present when Daenys had been made to read the letter aloud when they broke their fast. “I beg you uncle if you had or still have any love for me please save my boys.” With tears streaming down her face she implored Daemon to see to her children's “safety.” The crown princess’s sons were sweet true enough, but there was not enough sentiment to warrant defensive action. Their lives were not forfeit if they were publicly declared bastards.

Daemon agreed to it. “I would want Viserys to do the same for Daenys' little one.” His simple reply when his wife had asked why. Naerys did not object. If it gave her husband piece of mind that he had done what he could for his great nephews and their mother she would not dare try to sway or guilt him into changing his mind.

It had been suggested by Rhaenyra that she stay within the confines of Dragonstone when they were gearing up to leave for the Red Keep. “We will not be very long dear cousin.” She took all too much pleasure in ordering her around as she moved to smooth down imaginary lines on their uncle's riding leathers.

“My wife could talk some sense into him niece.” Daemon flicked Rhaenyra’s hand away. Naerys knew that her husband could care less for the fate of Ser Vaemond or his kin. However, he was not unaware of his niece-wife’s sentiments. For all his faults the Velaryon knight had been true to Naerys. She could not remember her father, but she could recall every instance that Vaemomd had tried to serve in his absence. She had to try to save him from his own self if she could. Naerys did not spare her aunt another look as she climbed upon Silverwing’s back and took to the skies.

The Dragonstone party arrived in Kings Landing well before Ser Vaemond and Alicent had been the ones to welcome them when they had arrived in the courtyard of the Red Keep. The queen gave a curt greeting to her good daughter before pulling Naerys to the side reiterating what her son had written in his letter. “The king is ill. We do what we can, but it is in the Mother's hands. My father will be the one to make the final verdict.”

Rhaenyra demanded to be taken to see her father almost immediately once the children had left to find some amusement. “I wish to see him.” Naerys could not blame her. If she was in her position she would request the same. The crown princess's visits to her father in the ten years since she had left had been minimal. The Red Keep of her youth was gone. The emblems and regalia of house Targaryen had been replaced mostly by the religious doctrine of the Seven. One was hard-pressed to recognize the castle.

Rhaenyra tried to leave Naerys waiting in the solar outside of the king's bed chambers, but Daemon chastised the crown princess with a frown upon his brow. “She is my wife Rhaenyra.” With a glare thrown in her cousin's direction, she conceded, not even bothering to hide distaste at being reminded of her position in comparison to the Lady of Dragonstone.

True enough the king was confined to his sick bed. The room was kept cool and the shudders were drawn so as to keep the sunlight from streaming in. A gauze covered half his face and the half that was exposed was gaunt and pocket marked with sores.

Viserys had not even recognized his own daughter until she had identified herself. “I am here with Daemon father.” Naerys ignored the omission as Daemon took her small hand in his. As he gazed down at his elder brother she was reminded of the worried look he wore during Aenys birth all those moons ago. The king seemed to come alive upon seeing his daughter and brother's faces together no doubt, but It was not long before a coughing fit overtook him. They left him to the care of maesters then.

Rhaenyra tried to collapse into Daemon when they exited the king's bed chambers. Feigning fatigue and exhaustion as she tried to push aside Naerys hand so that she may be encircled in their uncle’s arms, but the man brushed her off. The crown princess had to grab hold of a nearby chair to keep from falling. Turning to his wife he gave her hand a squeeze and placed a kiss on her soft cheek. “I’ll check on our daughter.” The man still looked like a lost boy as he made his way to search for their daughter. Daenys would set him to rights or at least provide him with enough of a distraction so as to keep his mind off of his brother.

The rest of the day leading up to the petitions passed by slowly. Princess Rhaenys, Lady Baela, and Lady Rhaena arrived not long after the Dragonstone party. While Naerys was glad to see her aunt and little cousin it was not their arrival that she anxiously waited upon. It was not until well in the afternoon that Ser Vaemond and his party finally arrived. At the Lady of Dragonstone’s behest, the queen had brought the Velaryon knight to his niece's guest chambers after she and her father briefly spoke with him. A courtesy that she would not forget.

“You are a Targaryen niece, this does not concern you.” Ser Vaemond tried to dismiss Naerys fears, but she would not let him. She had no dragon dreams, but something told her that this would not end well. The Stranger encircled the Red Keep. The princess could feel that it was not for the ailing king. “I have already received a lecture from one woman of your house. I will not listen to another.” Rhaenys was well-meaning, but she was not a Velaryon. Her interest lay with her blood the Lady Strongs. She would support the bastard's claim as long as her granddaughters sat beside them.

“Was my mother, your sister not a lady of house Velaryon? Was my grandmother, your aunt, not a lady of house Velaryon as well?” Naerys may have the blood of the dragon, but she was just as much if not more so a Velaryon. “Se uēpa, se drēje, se nēdenka.” The old, the true, the brave. House Velaryon’s words. Words she carried in her heart alongside Fire and blood.

“I am your blood. I beseech you uncle. Do not do this.” Naerys would not see the ruin of her mother's house due to her uncle’s ego. This scheme all hinged upon a delicate balance that could topple over at any moment. A set of what-ifs that could turn against him as quickly as they had turned for him. Rhaenyra may be a woman with bastards for heirs, but she was not without her allies. All it took would be a word or two in her favor and Ser Vaemond would be done for.

The Velaryon commanders' friends were few and far between. Ser Otto was loyal to what would put him closer to the crown. The shrewd hand of the king would abandon her uncle without so much as blinking the moment it no longer served him to be his ally. The queen had been kind to her, but her kindness only extended so far. Her interest lay with her children.If she thought that lending her hand would endanger their position or herself she too would turn her back on Ser Vaemond.

Daemon would not speak in support of Ser Vaemond. To do that would mean that he had abandoned Rhaenyra and her cause. He would not defend her Velaryon uncle unless Naerys were to somehow tie her fate to his. Her husband would stop her before it came to that. If Lord Corlys were to recover, there was no telling what he might do to his brother upon finding out that he had “usurped” his chosen heir. It was not too late to turn back, but time was running out.

“It is for house Velaryon that I do this niece.” Ser Vaemond made his way to the door, but his violet eyes softened. A rare moment for the proud man. Naerys was reminded of when she had been a girl. A distant memory of her letting her cry into his arms during her mother’s funeral played back in her head. “Nyke would dōrī deny bona ao issi aōha muñnykeā’s tala. Gaomagon daor ivestragī aōla forget bona.” I would never deny that you are your mother’s daughter. Do not let yourself forget that.

Ser Vaemond was lost to her as he left her chambers with a sad smile, clearing his throat before softly closing the heavy oak door. His fate lay with fickle Gods who had hardly been known to show mercy. Naerys crumbled to her knees as she let herself give in to her emotions.

The petition had been surprisingly short, but the ramifications were not so. Naerys was made to stand near Rhaenyra and her sons. The pale woman ambushed her on the way to the Great Hall. She reached out a hand out to grab hold of her forearm. “I need your strength aunt.”

Wearing a smile as her claws dug into her cousin's skin the crown princess dragged her across the Red Keep as if she were her lap dog. By the time they made it to where Daemon and Daenys stood on the opposite side of the queen and her three eldest children in the throne room Naerys felt her arm go numb from the pain.

Rhaenyra only let go of her grip when Daemon barked at her to release his niece-wife. Taking hold of her forearm to soothe the blotchy brown skin. “Look what you've done.” It looked worse than it felt, but Naerys was likely to be left with a dark bruise by morning. The crown princess apologized, stumbling over her words under her uncle’s dark stare. She was spared the worst of the Rogue Prince’s anger when Ser Otto called for the petitions to begin.

Ser Vaemond was called first to speak. Blood was his argument. Blood is what it all came down to. His blood was pure. The blood of the seas, the blood of old Valyria. He was his brother's rightful heir, not some bastard boy with no blood ties to House Velaryon.

Rhaenyra tried to cut the Velaryon knight off. Reminding the court that Luke was the son of Ser Laenor Velaryon. Lord Corlys' only son. He was a Velaryon just as much as his great uncle. His claim was the true one, but he was a Velaryon in name only. The queen reminded her that she would have her chance to speak. The crown princess quieted with a glower at Ser Vaemond who sported a self-assured smirk across his dark brow, but it was she who the Gods shined upon.

The king was announced not a moment after Rhaenyra began her defense of her son. The throne room went silent. The chamber's occupants and petitioners stood in shock as they gazed upon their ailing king. Even the crown princess looked surprised at her father's sudden appearance.

In the light of the throne room, Viserys looked worse than he had in his shrouded bed chambers. He wore a golden mask strapped to his frail wispy head in replace of the gauze that had covered the decaying side of his face. He stood low with the help of his cane hobbling over to the throne. A startled Ser Otto had no choice, but to hand judgment over to the king.

All attempts at assistance were shooed away until Viserys dropped his crown. Daemon swooped in to aid his brother up the steps leading to the Iron throne. Placing his crown upon his head when he finally sat upon that infernal chair. The brothers exchanged a look before her husband made his way back to where they stood. Naerys knew that all was lost for her uncle.

The king had more of his wit than he appeared. From where he stood Driftmarks succession was settled. Naerys glanced over to see Alicent’s face mirroring her own unease. The princess went to clutch at her daughter who returned her grip with a comforting squeeze.

The king called upon Rhaenys to speak. She was the only one who knew what her husband wanted. She would speak for the dying man. All eyes turned to her. It would be on her word that would deal the final blow.

She might have been swayed to support her good-brother had not Viserys arrived. The queen that never was would not have protested too much had Ser Vaemond offered her one of his eldest grandsons for Lady Baela. As long as her granddaughters, her blood, was not cheated of their inheritance she would not have cared who sat claimed the title of Lord of the Tides. It is what Naerys would do, but the king had arrived.

It came as no great surprise when Rhaenys reiterated her and her husband's support of Lucerys' claim. Calling the boy Ser Laenor’s true-born son. Reminding the court that her granddaughters were to wed Rhaenyra’s sons. Lord Corlys’ blood would appear to sit upon the Driftwood Throne twice over. The matter was once again settled with Viserys reaffirming his grandson’s position as heir of Driftmark upon his grandfather’s death.

Or at least it would have been settled had Naerys uncle been able to put aside his vanity. Ser Vaemond could have walked, but he would not give in so easily. He would not allow anyone, especially a king who championed his daughter at the expense of his own sons, to dictate the fate of House Velaryon. His sons and nephews echoed his protestations.

Naerys tried to go to her uncle, but Daemon grabbed her uninjured arm. Pulling her into her before bending down and whispering into her ear. “Bisa iksos daor ao vīlībagon byka mēre.” This is not your fight little one.

The king warned Ser Vaemond. Reminding him that Lucerys was the grandson of a king. His grandson. The Velaryon knight should have remembered his place as the second son of a second house of Valyria, but he still would not fold. The Velaryons may not have dragons, but they had the blood of old Valyria flowing through their veins as well. They had survived centuries of trials and were stronger for it. They would not be brought low if Vaemond Velaryon had anything to say about it.

“Her children are BASTARDS!” Shock once again rained across the throne room as Ser Vaemond roared the accusation at Rhaenyra and her sons. The color had drained from the crown prince's face as she scowled at the Velaryon knight. Naerys felt her heart quicken as she squirmed in Daemon's hold. “And she is a whore!” Time seemed to speed up and slow down. Everything happened all at once

The king called for Ser Vaemond’s tongue. His daughter for his head. It was Rhaenyra who got her wish. Calling upon Daemon to carry out the sentence. The Rogue Prince glared at her as his wife clutched onto the arms he had wrapped around her. He turned both her and Daenys into his chest so that they would not see the Kingsguard who struck off the Velaryon knight's head. A clean break. The great hall's occupants flinched away from the blood spray. Naerys felt her own blood rush through her ears as she turned back around to face what was left of her uncle and the court.

Ser Vaemond’s sons, Daeron and Daemion stood frozen in shock. Ser Otto and Alicent, who had done the same as Daemon in shielding Helaena, looked horrified at the sight of the severed head which had landed a few feet away from them. Aegon had turned his head to avoid staring at the headless knight's body. The warm pool of blood nearly touched his boots. His brother wore a startled expression on his pale face, but he was not able to turn his silver head away from what was once Vaemond’s head before it and the rest of his remains were gathered to be fed to Syrax.

The hall descended into chaos as protests from Naerys' Velaryon cousins were shouted out at the king and Rhaenyra. Ser Maltine and Ser Rhogar, the oldest of the lot, led the charge. Their uncle was a knight of house Velaryon. He deserved a proper trial not whatever this farce had been.

Ser Vaemond had been guilty of nothing except daring to speak the truth and claiming what was rightfully his. The princess’s sons were bastards. Everyone could see that with their dark hair and pug noses. There was not a drop of Velaryon blood in them. No dark Valyrian gentility or grace that those of house Velaryon possessed. They looked more Strong than their true-born lady sisters. Rhaenys clutched both her granddaughters closer to her then. Staring down her good nephews with a stone face. Daring them to speak another word on Baela or Rhaena.

There were no other words to be spoken. At least not by Naerys' cousins. The five Velaryon brothers were seized by members of the Kingsguard. One by one Viserys ordered their tongues to be cut out. No one uttered a word in their favor. Not even Daeron and Daemion who still stood paralyzed from their father's beheading. Their shock no doubt spared them from joining in their cousin's fates.

For the second time within the span of less the posturing of the overly ambitious could have ended there, but when one feels above even the Gods it is hard to stop them. Viserys was on the verge of dismissing the court when Rhaenyra chose to strike.

“My aunt should be questioned, your grace.” Rhaenyra moved over to position herself at the foot of her father's throne. Bending her head slightly in a mockery of fear as her voice trembled with what Naerys supposed was her best attempt at unshed tears. She should have anticipated that her cousin would not miss the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

“For what reason, niece.” Daemon spat the words at Rhaenyra. Viserys echoed his inquiry. Standing up as best as he could to gaze down at his brother and daughter. “What crime has my wife committed?” The crown princess did not flinch as her uncle moved his hand to Dark Sister as he walked toward her with a dark glimmer. One could hear a needle drop as the hall held its breath.

“For conspiring with the late Ser Vaemond to usurp my son's rightful place as heir to the Driftwood Throne.” Penitent was not a look that suited her cousin. It merely came off as posturing. Naerys held her tongue. She would not let pride be her downfall as it had her uncle. She would not let her words be used against her though she did not hide her disdain at the show her cousin was putting on. Not even the king appeared to believe his daughter's tale. Only a fool would believe her accusations. She would let her be her own destruction

“You were there when your daughter received that letter uncle.” Rhaenyra turned her lilac gaze towards her second-born half-brother briefly before turning her attention back to her uncle. Reaching out a hand to calm him. To make him see her reason, but Daemon was not moved.

“You saw how she reacted.” Daenys stirred at the mention of herself and the attacks on her mother's character, but Naerys stayed her daughter. Rhaenyra wanted a reaction from them. The younger princess would not allow her cousin to gain one up on her.

“A frightened niece concerned for her uncle’s safety, that is what you saw. I would expect you to know the sentiment well.” Daemon's grip tightened on his sword. Twisting it slightly within his grasp. “Ser Vaemond raised her since she was a girl. Have you forgotten that? It was not an attack on you and your sons and you know that Rhaenyra.”

“She has forgotten her place uncle!” Naerys did not have to wait long for her cousin to spiral. Her patience had one out in the face of Rhaenyra’s petulance. “Questioning the legitimacy of Luke means to question the legitimacy of his brother, the future king! To question my right to my father's throne. She knows the truth!”

The emotion was thick in Rhaenyra’s voice though Naerys doubted that it came from a place of true sorrow. “She stands to gain everything from this and yet you defend her!” Daemon. It always came back to her husband. Her cousin would never leave her alone as long as her husband remained outside of her hold, but her threats and schemes would only work if the man himself willingly went along with them.

“What do you stand to gain from this Rhaenyra?” Daemon sneered down at his niece. Luring over her as his violet eyes blazed with barely contained fury. Some members of the Kingsguard went to unsheathe their swords in defense of their princess, but Viserys ordered them to hold their ground. “Everything you have ever wanted I imagine. You truly do not see yourself. Be careful what you sow sweet niece.”

“Enough of this!” The king bellowed, standing up from his throne with as much celerity as he could manage in his poor condition. Weariness was evident on his cadaverous face. “You all will cease your bickering at once. The matter is dealt with. There will be no more talk of this. Naerys has committed no crimes except that of acting like a frightened child.”

Viserys turned his attention to his young niece and grandson. “Your daughter is still in need of a husband brother as is Joffrey in need of a wife Rhaenyra.” Daenys paled. Her mother had to tighten her grip on her so that she would not collapse under the weight that was yet to come. From the corner of her eye Naerys spied Aemond stiffening at his father's words. His pale eye landed on Rhaenyra’s son who shifted under his young uncle's glower.

The king seemed to miss the rage upon his second son as he managed a half smile showing off an assortment of rotting and missing teeth in his gummy mouth. “Have them wed after Lucerys and Rhaena.” With that, he dismissed the court. Inviting, or ordering, his family to a private dinner in his apartments so that they may finally put to rest the last of the bad blood that lay between them over good food, drink, and merriment.

Naerys had not realized she had held her breath until they had left the stifling walls of the Red Keep's great hall. The princess tried to catch the eye of her late uncle’s sons, but they remained in a daze as they headed for their fleet that would take them back to Driftmark’s shores with their now silent cousins. Rhaenys and her granddaughters trailed after them, no doubt sending them off before they would ready for tonight’s feast. Daemon ushered her and Daenys back to their chambers before they could be ambushed by either Aemond or Rhaenyra.

The first held his sister's hand as he turned his head towards their daughter's departing figure. His mother and grandsire trying to gain his attention. The latter stood with her sons flanked by two members of her father's Kingsguard. No doubt the king put them there as an act of caution. Her eyes darted with want between her uncle and irritation at her cousin.

“I will not marry him. I will not. I shall not.” Daenys repeated. Her violet eyes watered over as she turned her gaze toward where she had last seen her one-eyed prince. The willowy princess had to be held by both of her parents lest she bolt off. “Gaomagon daor mazverdagon issa dīnagon zirȳla kepa.” Do not make me marry him father. Daemon shushed their daughter. It was not a discussion they would have in front of prying eyes within the king's halls.

Naerys had wanted to leave the Red Keep. “I can not stay here. I wish to go home kepus. Now.” The princess did not care if she sounded like a child. She did not want to be here where she was picked apart or where her daughter was made to play along with petty ruses. Where Rhaenyra watched her as if she was the prey waiting to be slaughtered.

Her husband simply gave her a sad smile pulling her silver coils back from her brown face to place a kiss of placation on her forehead. Daemon promised that they would leave in the morning. It was better to indulge the dying man than to make an enemy of him on his deathbed.

They would sort out the issue of Daenys betrothal once they were within the safety of their own stone walls. After all, it was likely that his brother would die before she would be forced to marry Rhaenyra’s bastard. Naerys would have protested had she not seen the rage still in her uncle's eyes. He was not so easy to forgive her cousin's games at court.

Dinner that evening was a strange affair. The tension and disquietude from the petition proceedings had yet dissipated. The Stranger still clung to the foul air of the Red Keep. It was as if a pot had been left on the fire too long and its contents would boil over at any moment. Burning all those who happened to be within reach.

All were in attendance, except Rhaenys. Her granddaughters apologized for their grandmother’s absence. Claiming that the older princess was fatigued from the stress of the journey as well as the care of her husband.

Viserys called for his family to put aside their grievances for his sake. Pulling off his golden mask so that they may gaze upon his true form. Naerys did her best to hide her revulsion at the sight. She had to grab a hold of her husband who sat to her right to regain her composure. Her uncle had become a walking corpse. The king's right eye was lost. The cavernous tissue of his socket stood in its place. One could see straight clear into his corroded mouth from the flesh and muscle that had long since wasted away. Her uncle would not be among them for much longer.

A mummery of goodwill was exchanged between the factions of Viserys family. First between Alicent and Rhaenyra who toasted to one another and their respective houses. After a minor scuffle over a pass made at Lady Baela by Aegon, Jace toasted his uncle's good health. Recollecting their misspent youths with hope for friendship between them in the future. Alicent’s eldest grumbled in agreement.

Helaena toasted to her little cousin's future marriages.“It isn’t so bad, mostly. He just ignores you. Except sometimes when he’s drunk!” The only sincerity among the farcicality. A round of chortles passed between her grandsire and Daemon. The rest of the guests in attendance wore a mixture of confusion, embarrassment, and horror at the princess’s speech.

The mood lightened for a time. Though Naerys remained disillusioned with all that was around. She would not celebrate after all she had witnessed. Shoving the food pushed in front of her aside. Daemon’s eyes softened, but he did not say anything. Merely taking her hand in his to caress the back of it. She could not eat with a heavy half frightened heart.

The king called for music. Dancing commenced with Jace asking for Helaena’s hand which she eagerly accepted. Her husband was more interested in the wine in his cup than his wife who was led across the king's solar by their nephew. Joffrey looked as if he might follow his elder brother's lead with his newly betrothed, but when his eyes met his one-eyed uncle's glare he thought better of it.

All too soon Visery was taken ill by his exertion after the day’s events. Not a moment after he was carried off to bed a pig was placed in front of Aemond. What possessed him Naerys did not know, but Luke laughed at the sight of his uncle’s irritation. Old wounds had reopened. The merriment and masquerading stopped. The pot finally boiled over.

The one-eyed prince called for a final tribute. Raising his glass, an action that his elder brother readily copied, to toast to his nephew's health, before drawling on. “Come, let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.” Daenys let out a little giggle though thankfully Naerys did not think that anyone heard apart from herself. The air became thick with apprehension. Jace dared him to repeat his words, but Aemond was not intimidated by the younger prince. “Do you not think yourself Strong?”

A brawl ensued between the Strong boys and their uncles. Jace threw the first punch, though Aemond did not so much as stumble from it. The dark-haired prince slid across the floor from his uncle’s shove in retaliation. Luke made to get up from his chair, but he was pushed down by Aegon into a serving platter.

Joffrey was to join his brothers, but Daenys held his hand to keep him from the fray. The self-willed Baela had to be held back by her own twin sister Rhaena. Guards had to restrain Jace and Luke as Alicent chastised her son for his lack of restraint, but that did not stop his taunts.

The children had to be sent to their rooms. Aemond would not leave for his own quarters until Daemon made his way over to him. Whispering something unintelligible in Valyrian to his nephew with a slight smirk on his pale brow. The younger prince backed down with a huff of annoyance. Leaving from his father's solar with a lurching gait.

Alicent looked, but Daemon wasted no time in grabbing hold of his wife’s hand. “We are leaving little one.” Her husband bent down to give her a small smile. Naerys felt lighter as he led her back to their own chambers. Imagining the smoky shores of her birth. They should have left Rhaenyra to defend herself, but it mattered not now.

“Uncle.” Rhaenyra called out running after them. One could never get rid of her. She was like a rat clinging to a scrap of wood after a shipwreck. “My father is ill. He needs you. He needs us.” With each word, she sounded more out of breath than the last. “ We can not leave now!”

“Do not worry niece.” Daemon had not slowed his stride as he brought them to a brisk pace. His long legs did most of the work for his wife whose short legs could not keep up. Rhaenyra had height on Naerys but she had grown soft in the belly after Joffrey's birth. She easily grew breathless at their speed. “We will be leaving, not you. You may stay here with Viserys if you like. I think it would do him some good. The Gods know what that Hightower woman has done to him.”

“This den of vipers.” They had finally come to a stop at their guest chamber doors. Rhaenyra wasted no time yanking Naerys' bruised arm to pull her away from their uncle. The younger princess let out a hiss of pain, but she did not notice nor care. Her lilac eyes were overtaken by desperation when she tried to turn Daemon to face her. Rhaenyra failed to take note of the dark look growing on his face or the tick of nerve on the unscathed side of his neck as she continued on.

“You would leave me here? You saw what happened today. They will never stop coming for me uncle. Not unless I give them an heir of unquestionable Valyrian blood. Not unless I have your—” Naerys froze when Daemon gave in to his baser nature. His eyes had blackened over as he reached out a large hand to grab hold of her cousin's neck. Pinning her to the oak door of their chamber. Rhaenyra’s hands flew up to protect herself, but it was too late.

“Yes, Rhaenyra I would leave you here in a den of vipers where you accused my wife of treason.” Rhaenyra clawed at their uncle's hand as his grip tightened. The princess's sputtering coughs bounced off the keeps stone walls. Her face was turning a light shade of blue from the lack of oxygen. “I would leave you here when you continue to make a mockery of yourself at my Naerys expense. At the expense of my marriage.”

Naerys thanked the Gods that there were no guards within earshot as Rhaenyra’s choking grew louder. Thanking the Mother that her husband did not have Dark Sister with him either. She shuddered at the thought of what he might have done with it. “Heavy lies the head that wears the crown Rhaenyra. One could so easily topple under all that weight.” The younger princess remained stock still at her uncle's actions until she realized what he still might be capable of even without his sword.

“Stop.” Naerys cried out. The emotions of the day crashed around her as her pleads began in earnest. “Please kepus, stop. Please. Please stop. Daemon stop!” Rhaenyra may have a childish fixation on her husband, but she did not deserve to be harmed for it. Not at the hands of their uncle who had been in part responsible for her delusions, but she was not so instant either.

“Find someone else to give you your heir's niece.” The Rogue Prince finally released her at the sound of his name on his wife’s lips. His eyes returned back to their violet shade. As he took hold of Naerys hand Rhaenyra fell to the stone floor in a coughing heap. Her throat likely burned as she tried to regain control of her breathing. A red Daemon-shaped handprint graced her pale neck. Though it looked painful, the bruise would likely be no worse than the one she had inflicted upon her cousin-aunt before Ser Vaemond’s fateful petition.

“Do you not think I have not tried?” Rhaenyra crooked out. The whites of her eyes were as red as her neck. Tears bumbled at the surface as she let out a snort. The crown princess turned her bloodshot eyes towards the younger princess with venom, but only briefly before she landed her cloudy gaze on her cousin's husband.

“Even with Harwin. I couldn’t see any man but you. Ao lua īlva hen īlva biarves kepus.” You keep us from our happiness uncle. What pity she had for Rhaenyra disappeared. Naerys let her husband tug her inside with him before shutting the door to their chambers. Leaving her cousin to her misery.

Ao3 Link:

Tags: @misssilencewritewell @parizparis @thanyatargaryen @i-love-morally-gray-characters @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @bubblebuttwade @beggarsnotchoosey @m-indkiller @pearlstiare @green-lxght @lazypinkpig @mvrylee

[heyiwrotesomethings]

She’s The Housekeeper Prt9: Bond

Yor Briar/ Forger x She/ Her Reader

A/N: Prt8 Alright, here is the last part for the foreseeable future. The first chapter of this story is still my most popular post to date, and it’s so cool to see 800+ notes on something I’ve written. If you managed to stick with me for this long, thank you for your time and support💜! Word Count: ~5,800

Anya ate her breakfast with an extra vigor that morning because today would be the day Loid would take her to the pet shop to find a cute little dog to take home! She inhaled her food so fast, she nearly choked.

“Hey, careful!” (Y/n) cautioned as she pushed Anya’s glass of water closer to her for the little girl to gulp down, “I know you’re excited, but let’s try to avoid having to go to the hospital instead.”

“The dogs aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. You can take your time.” Loid reminded.

“I’m just as excited to look around as you are Miss Anya!” Yor beamed as she put down the burnt omurice she had made, “but please do be careful.”

Anya downed the water and though she was still eating rather quickly, she was pacing herself better than she had a few moments ago.

“Anya is ready to go now!” She declared, sliding off of her chair to fetch her coat.

“Anya, we’re still eating.” Loid called after her, but Anya kept moving, pulling her coat from the rack. Loid sat back in his chair, letting Anya wait by the door. “Are you joining us, (Y/n)? It shouldn’t take terribly long.”

“I wouldn’t mind tagging along.” (Y/n) decided. Maybe she could influence the decision made of what dog they got. Something that was already house trained would be ideal. One that rarely shedded would also be preferable.

“This is going to be so much fun.” Yor hummed, between bite of crispy rice and egg. She offered (Y/n) a bite, and of course (Y/n) had to take it.

“Definitely an improvement over the last one, well done my dear.” (Y/n) praised before downing her water in just a few gulps.

The food really was one of Yor’s better attempts. It was still vile, but (Y/n) didn’t feel like she was in danger of throwing up. (Y/n) wasn’t absolutely insane like Yor’s dear brother Yuri, if Yor’s food made her feel ill, she would simply excuse herself to the bathroom to take care of it, not smile and try to clear the plate faster than she could vomit. (Y/n) shuddered at the memory. The Briar siblings were not normal.

“Woof! Woof! Woof!” Anya chanted from the hallway. She simply couldn’t wait any longer, they were wasting precious daylight!

“Let us do the dishes at least, then we will go, Anya. Be patient.” Loid began gathering plates while (Y/n) and Yor went to the sink to wash and dry.

Anya felt like she could explode from the anticipation, but finally all three adults had put away the dishes and put on their coats and they were heading out the door.

“Woof! Woof! Woof!” She barked again, swinging Yor’s hand in hers. “Papa,” she asked, turning back to look at Loid, “Do doggies like peanuts?”

“You probably shouldn’t give them too many. It might not be good for them.” He replied, making Anya pout.

“That leaves more peanuts for you, Miss Anya.” (Y/n) provided helpfully, making her smile again.

“Oh, is this the shop right there?” Yor asked.

“That’s it.” Loid confirmed, going ahead of them to open the door for everyone.

Inside were the most fucked up looking dogs that (Y/n) had ever seen. Anya looked severely unsettled and (Y/n) couldn’t say she blamed her.

“Is… is that one flexing?” She asked Yor in a concerned whisper.

“What do you think, Anya?” Loid smiled, “Do you like any of these dogs?”

“No.” Anya wasted no time saying.

“R-really?” Loid’s eye twitched.

“Are you really surprised, Loid? I mean, look at them.” (Y/n) shuddered.

She did have a point… Guess they would have to go to the shelter event instead. A person caught his eye from the back room, flashing him a signal. Now really wasn’t a good time, but if Handler was calling, it must be important.

“Augh!” Loid cried out, clutching his stomach.

“Loid? What’s wrong?” (Y/n) asked, startled by the outburst.

“I, I need to use the restroom! You all can go, I’ll meet you at the shelter.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? We can wait.” Yor offered.

“Papa takes a long time when he goes to the shitter to shit, so we should probably go.” Anya bluntly explained.

“I see…” Yor blushed.

“Eugh, Miss Anya, we didn’t need to know that.” (Y/n) shivered in disgust, “Also, watch your language.”

“Yes, watch your mouth young lady.” Loid echoed before running off to deal with his… ‘problem’.

“Well, guess we should get going then.” (Y/n) decided.

“Yes!” Anya skipped to the door with (Y/n) and Yor following close behind.

Before long, the sidewalks became more congested and the unmistakable sounds of animals flooded the air.

“So this is the adoption event. Wow, it’s even bigger than I imagined!” Yor gushed.

“Yeah, it seems like Loid should’ve brought us here first.” (Y/n) observed.

Puppies, kittens and bunnies! They seemed to have every furry household pet under the sun! Anya ran haphazardly to look into every crate and enclosure she could find.

“Don’t run around Miss Anya, you’ll get lost!” Yor warned.

“Promise us you won’t leave this area with the dogs, okay?” (Y/n) asked.

“Okay…” Anya deflated a bit, but that was fine, there were so many cute doggies to look at and she would get to take one of them home!

The trio walked up to an enclosure together and Yor squeaked with excitement, grabbing (Y/n) by the arm and shaking her around.

“Look at that dachshund’s cute little legs!” She cooed, making (Y/n) smile.

Anya was overwhelmed by all the cuteness. She couldn’t possibly choose just one. They were all so sweet! Standing by the window, something large and white caught her eye, and she turned to see it more clearly, feeling a possible connection with whatever that may be.

(Y/n) and Yor were going over their top picks when one of the ladies working the event approached them offering assistance. (Y/n) and Yor took up the conversation, distracting them from Anya’s sudden disappearance.

“Are there any breeds that are easier to clean up after?” (Y/n) asked.

“Poodles rarely shed, so cleaning up after them is a breeze.” The friendly lady shared.

“You don’t say.” (Y/n) perked up, making Yor smile.

“Or there are smaller breeds, Shih Tzus are very friendly.”

While (Y/n) and Yor were engrossed with the woman’s abundant information, they failed to notice Anya slink outside to follow the shady man and the big white dog she had seen through the window. By the time they had stopped talking with the woman and thanked her for her suggestions, Anya appeared to be long gone. (Y/n) looked up to find her in the crowd, but could not see her anywhere within the dog section and her heart began to rise to her throat.

“Yor,” (Y/n) alerted, grabbing her partner’s arm, anxiety already slipping into her tone, “Do you know where Anya is?”

Yor snapped to attention, scanning all around, a familiar sense of dread pooling in her stomach. She did not like the trend that seemed to be forming every time she let Anya out of her sight or reach for but a few minutes every time they went out in public.

“I- I don’t—“ Yor swallowed thickly, her feet traveled on autopilot, “Miss Anya? Where did you go?!” She called out, a static buzzing growing steadily between her ears.

“I’ll look for her in the kitten section!” (Y/n) yelled after her before running off in a different direction, but she was not heard.

Between the two of them, they must have asked everyone in the event hall if they had seen the little girl, each growing more and more desperate with every shake of a head they received.

Upon getting her latest negative sighting, Yor felt unshed tears burning the corners of her eyes. This was the aquarium all over again, but worse! She turned, expecting to see (Y/n) there, ready to give her a hug and to let her know everything would be alright, but of course she wasn’t there.

Yor had already been so tense and her brain had been so focused on looking for Anya, she had somehow lost her dear (Y/n) along the way! Now she began to really freak out, completely overwhelmed by the crowded venue and the noise pitching around and within her.

Something in her that was already tense, snapped and she jumped up, kicked off of a nearby pillar, and expertly braced herself on the ceiling so she could search from above. Her breathing uneven, she drowned out the noise of the crowd below. She didn’t see Anya. Anya wasn’t there, not even a trace, and that terrified her.

What if she had been eaten by a dog?! No, Yor managed to stop that train of thought. That was unlikely. Someone would surely have noticed something like that. But what if she had been kidnapped again like when they had gone to the aquarium, or when they had gone grocery shopping! What if (Y/n) had been taken too!

An awful image of her beloved and her adopted daughter being carted away by despicable men to be married off to even more vile and cruel men consumed her vision, but then she found a small light, a familiar splash of color, she saw (Y/n) in one of the far corners of the venue, a strange man looming over her.

Without another second of delay, she skillfully swung from the pipes above and dove between them from the ceiling, startling the man enough to make him yelp. Yor prepared to uppercut him into the sun next, to see what kind of sound that would make, but instead (Y/n)’s hand quickly shot out to grasp her bicep and pull her back. Confused, Yor allowed her.

“Where the hell did you come from lady?” The man blinked, bug-eyed, mouth agape.

“She’s the mother. As you can see, she’s worried sick. If you see her little girl, please do not hesitate to let us know.” (Y/n) beseeched, pulling Yor back a bit more to try to knock her out of whatever murder-y thoughts were fogging up her mind.

“Yeah… of course.” The man gave them a weird look then began walking briskly away.

(Y/n) turned to hold both of Yor’s biceps, pressing her thumbs into the fabric of her coat’s sleeves to try to put pressure on the tense muscles beneath.

“Hey, try to breathe, okay? What’s the matter? Besides the obvious.” She cooed.

Yor sobbed, slamming her head hard against (Y/n)’s chest, making a deep thunk sound that rattled (Y/n)’s insides.

“Oof!” (Y/n) winced, but held Yor all the same, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“I- I can’t find Miss Anya! A-and I thought you had gotten taken too!”

“Honey,” (Y/n) murmured, giving a, ‘mind your own business’ smile to anyone who dared curiously look their way, “I told you I would look for Anya over here. You must not have heard me.”

“I guess not.” She sniffed.

“I’m okay. Now take some deep breaths. It’s clear that Anya isn’t in here, we need to go find her, but we can’t be snapping the neck of anyone whose just going about their day.”

Yor made a pitiful sound, but cut herself off halfway through, almost knocking heads with (Y/n) from how quickly she brought her head up.

“What…!” (Y/n) began to ask, but she heard it then too, that sounded like Anya outside!

And she was outside! They could see her through the window! She was barreling down the street… on top of a big, fluffy white dog.

Yor took (Y/n)’s hand and began sprinting in the direction the dog had ran off in. It was a brutal pace, one that (Y/n) couldn’t keep up with and when she tried to communicate to Yor that she would catch up. Yor was having none of it and scooped (Y/n) up into her arms, making quite the spectacle as they zoomed around the people walking by. It hardly mattered to Yor. She wasn’t going to risk losing (Y/n) for real by leaving her behind.

“Down that alley!” (Y/n) pointed.

“Right!”

(Y/n) braced herself, this was the side of her career that she was not trained for, but when they saw a strange man reaching for Anya in the alley, she still let Yor take her by the arms and spin her at a dizzying pace before finally being launched towards Anya.

(Y/n) sailed over the shocked kidnapper’s head, took hold of Anya’s hands, and catapulted her into the air. While Anya was airborne, (Y/n) sprung off of her hands when she hit the ground and flipped into an upright standing position just in time to catch Anya and see Yor smash her foot into the kidnapper’s face.

Yor fell into place beside (Y/n) so that Anya was between them, protected on either side. Anya couldn’t have looked more relieved to see them, looking between them with visible awe and joy.

“You won’t get away with this, Mr. Perverted Kidnapper,” Yor spoke in a measured tone, glaring at the remaining man who had his jaw hanging open, “It is much too early for Miss Anya to get married!”

“Married?” (Y/n) cocked her head to the side. Just what kind of scenarios was Yor imagining?

The gravity of the situation seemed to catch up to Anya then, because she began to cry, grasping onto the coats of both women she wailed,

“Mama! I was so scared!”

“Don’t worry, you’re all right now.” Yor comforted.

“We’ve got you.” (Y/n) assured, wiping Anya’s tears.

Kieth clenched his teeth. Which one was the mother? Ah, it didn’t matter. They’d all have to die if he was going to succeed in his plans.

“Dog! Rip their throats out!” He commanded.

The German Shepherd beside him began to approach, snarling, but then Yor gave one of her most terrifying expressions to date and growled right back with startling ferocity. The dog whimpered pathetically and turned tail, running out of the alley as fast as he could.

“Coward!” Kieth yelled after him.

“Bwah! Mama, I’m scared!” Anya bawled, hiding her face in (Y/n)’s coat, keeping Yor out of her sight.

“Hm? But you’re safe now?” Yor frowned, perhaps not realizing just how frightening her face had been jus a moment before.

“Don’t worry Anya, if that man thinks he can take you from us he has another thing coming!” (Y/n) promised, her mind filled with thoughts of fire and acid.

Yeah, Anya was glad to have those two on her side because they were honestly terrifying.

Voices began to be heard near the mouth of the alley and Keith cursed. All that noise had alerted people from the street, and now they were coming to investigate!

“Come on, come on you stupid mutt!” He hissed at the remaining dog, the big and fluffy white one. He tugged and tugged at the dog’s leash, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Damn worthless beast!” He kicked the dog in anger and fled the scene empty handed.

“He’s getting away!” Yor groaned, but she stood firmly at (Y/n)’s side. There was already one kidnapper she needed to properly detain and she didn’t want to leave (Y/n) and Anya for even a second.

Just how long is Loid going to stay in the bathroom? She mourned internally. His stomach was probably revolting from the breakfast she had made!

“Mr. Dog are you okay?” Anya asked, running up the the dog once (Y/n) put her down.

“Ah, careful Miss Anya! You shouldn’t run up to dogs you don’t know.” (Y/n) warned, trying to stop Anya from going any further.

“Mr. Doggie is no stranger. He saved Anya.” Anya put her hands over her heart, looking over to the dog with gratitude.

“Where did this dog come from, Miss Anya?” Yor asked.

Anya took a deep breath, that question required a very big answer.

“Terrorist bomb dogs?!” Yor blanched.

(Y/n) got on her knees and thoroughly searched the fluffy dog for bombs. Thankfully, there weren’t any. She sighed in relief and gave Yor a shaky thumbs up.

“Anya is sorry for running off without permission…” Anya mumbled, grabbing the hem of her coat between her fingers while she kept her eyes firmly on the ground.

“We’re just glad that you are safe.” (Y/n) knelt to the ground to hug Anya.

“We were so worried about you.” Yor chimed, following her partner to the ground.

“But expect a stern talking to when we get home.” (Y/n) warned.

Anya pouted, but nodded in acceptance and the three, plus the dog, walked out of the alley, tied up kidnapper dragging behind Yor.

They called the police on a nearby public phone to explain the situation, during which Anya suddenly grew restless, shaking the dog.

“Anya don’t be rough with the doggie.” Yor scolded lightly before her attention was brought back to the receptionist on the phone.

“Mama, Mama, sorry, Anya just remembered something. Papa forgot to take toilet paper with him to the potty!” The little girl yelled out of the blue.

“Huh?”

“What?”

(Y/n) and Yor stared on, frozen, as Anya leapt onto the dog’s back and urged him into a run.

“He might be in trouble so I have to go get some from home!”

“Anya, wait!” Yor called, reaching out the hand that wasn’t currently cradling the receiver.

“She’s running off again!” (Y/n) yelled in disbelief, finally sprinting after the blob of pink and white as they rounded the corner.

“W-wait! What about the police?” Yor called after her.

“We told them all we could! Just hang up and leave that guy there, he won’t wake up anytime soon! Let’s go before we lose Anya again!”

“Ah, okay!” Yor rose the receiver back to her ear, “I’m leaving the kidnapper by this phone booth! I have to go now, bye!” She hung up the phone and caught up with (Y/n) before she rounded the corner.

They searched every block, every street within half a mile. (Y/n) finally came to a stop, resting heavily on the guardrail of the bridge they had been speed-walking across.

“Darling, are you alright?” Yor’s voice was laced with worry. She could tell that (Y/n) was breathing quite hard.

“I’ll be okay, I just need a minute.” She wheezed. God, cardio sucks.

While (Y/n) tried not to keel over on the bridge, Yor paced back and forth. The only trace that she had been running at all was the light layer of sweat on her rosy face.

“What if she gets found by the terrorists again? I can’t let that happen!” Yor fretted.

“Maybe she went back to the pet shelter?” (Y/n) suggested between breaths. “At the very least, maybe Loid is finally there?”

Before Yor could speak, a loud honk of a horn and a sharp squeal of tires interrupted her. The scent of burnt rubber permeated the air. Looking down from the bridge, the women saw a car speeding recklessly down the road.

The light caught the windshield just right, allowing Yor to see an unwelcomingly familiar face. The other man who tried to kidnap Anya!

“Him again? How dare he try to take Miss Anya and run away! You won’t get away this time!” She declared, then jumped off of the bridge.

“Yor!” (Y/n) yelled. She tried to reach out for her, but she was too slow. Her hands snapped right to her eyes. Covering them from whatever was about to happen. “Pleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleasebeokay—“

An awful crashing noise reverberated within (Y/n)’s ears and she cautiously lifted her face from her hands. Below, she could see that Yor looked unscathed, thank the stars, but the car looked as if it had been t-boned before crashing into a lamppost.

(Y/n) hobbled down the hill to meet Yor on the street and flung her arms around her, a gesture that was always eagerly returned.

“Are you hurt?”

“Nope!” Yor smiled, “Kicking the car did make my leg feel a little tingly though.”

“My indestructible tank, I love you.” (Y/n) sighed, looking back at the crushed car. “We’ll have to call the police… again.”

They quickly relayed the location of the car and hung up before the responder could ask any follow-up questions. Then they were off to continue their search for Anya.

It was near sunset when they saw Loid walking down the sidewalk towards them. They opened their mouths in a rush to tell him that Anya had run off on a dog, but said girl and dog appeared from the alley between them and they instead slumped over each other in relief.

“What are you three doing here?” Loid asked, “I’m surprised to find you so far from the shelter.”

“Anya was coming to give papa toilet paper.”

“Ah.”

“She ran off on us. Twice.” (Y/n) informed, resting most of her weight against Yor. Now that Anya was with them once more, the exhaustion of running around all day was really starting to get to her.

“Did she now…” Loid looked down at Anya disapprovingly, finally truly noticing the dog beside her. “And who is the dog?

“That is actually quite the story.” Yor rubbed at her cheek with a sheepish smile and retold the events of the day. (Y/n) would occasionally chime in, but ultimately she was too tired to try to censor anything Yor was saying. Somewhere in her brain she knew they probably shouldn’t talking about taking down terrorists without much trouble, but again she was too tired to care.

“I’m sorry all that happened while I was in the bathroom.” Loid finally said, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“Yeah, you were gone all day. Have you considered seeing a doctor, because that is not at all normal.” (Y/n) spoke in a teasing tone, but there was a notable hint of concern in the way her eyebrows scrunched together.

“It was probably because of what I made for breakfast.” Yor bemoaned.

“It has to be something else. The rest of us survived.”

Loid, wanting to put his day long trip to the ‘bathroom’ behind him, began to address Anya and her penchant for running off.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not run off on your own. You could have been seriously hurt!” He yelled, making Anya flinch.

“Anya is sorry!” She sniffled, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Loid immediately softened, falling to one knee before her, “I’m sorry for yelling. I was just worried. You aren’t hurt at all though, right?”

Anya shook her head, putting a hand on the fluffy dog beside her. The fur nearly swallowed up her hand.

“Mr. Dog protected me.”

Loid smiled at the dog, petting him gently, “Thank you.”

“Excuse us,”

The family turned to see a woman and a man in suits approaching them from across the street,

“We’re investigating an incident near City Center. We understand that this was one of the dogs involved in the incident.” The woman said. “Please hand him over to us. He’ll be in good hands.”

“Of course. Thank you.” Loid tipped his hat, motioning them towards the dog.

“Now we can go back to looking for a puppy!” Yor beamed excitedly.

“Is the shelter even still open?” (Y/n) almost hoped it wasn’t. She wanted to shower and then spend the next several days in bed. She was already dreading how sore she was going to be tomorrow.

“Come on, Anya. Let’s go take a look.” Loid reached for her hand, but Anya pulled away.

“No! Anya wants Mr. Dog!” She said, stepping between the officers and the dog.

Loid shook his head. “He was owned by bad guys.”

“He saved Anya!” The esper refuted.

“You said you wanted a small dog.” Loid crossed his arms, peering down at his fickle adopted daughter.

“But Anya wants Mr. Dog now, it’s okay that he is big!” Anya continued to argue, hugging the dog close.

“Anya please,” Loid pinched the bridge of his nose, “Stop being so difficult.”

“If papa doesn’t let me have Mr. Dog, Anya will go bad and stop going to school!” Anya’s lip wobbled and then she began to cry.

“Wh— what are you saying?!” Loid sputtered.

“It’s okay, Miss Anya! Please don’t cry!” Yor beseeched.

“There are a lot of nice dogs in the world! I’m sure you’ll find another who is just as sweet…” (Y/n) attempted to console, but she knew that trying to get Anya to change her mind would be impossible at this point. She did just spend the whole day with this dog after all.

“Very well.” The woman conceded, leaving Loid particularly surprised.

“What?!”

The woman chuckled, then couched in front of Anya, a bittersweet smile on her lips.

“The dog itself didn’t cause any harm. If you promise to take good care of him, he’s yours, but we will need to keep him for the night to check his health first.” She explained softly.

“Are you protecting the other doggies too?”

“They are sleeping in the softest of beds and eating warm, yummy food.” She nodded.

“Thank you very much, important lady.”

The woman’s smile tugged a little further, “You’re welcome.” She stood back to her full height, turning to Loid. “We shall make contact with you tomorrow.“

“Thank you. Sorry for the trouble.” Loid bowed his head.

“No trouble at all. Have a good night.”

And so they began their trek home. Anya and Yor were particularly pleased with themselves because of the parts they played in saving the city from terrorists. (Y/n) and Loid on the other hand were exhausted.

“Why do you look like that?” (Y/n) had asked him pointedly. “I know it isn’t easy being… ill, all day, but I’ve been running around the city for hours and I still look better than you.”

“Do you really want to know?” Loid asked with a wry smile, his eye twitching in aggravation. If only they knew what he had really been up to all day!

“No.” (Y/n) shook her head quickly, “No, I really don’t want to know. Forget I said anything.”

After a night of the deepest sleep that any of them had ever experienced, morning soon came, and with it, a large and fluffy white dog.

“So curious!” Yor giggled, watching the dog sniff around the living room.

“Anya wants to stay home to play with Mr. dog today.” Anya said hugging the dog tightly.

“I believe the deal was that you wouldn’t stop going to school if you got this dog.” Loid said after spitting his toothpaste in the sink. “Get ready for school.”

“Does Anya at least get a Stella for helping stop the bad guys?” She asked. That would help put her in a better mood about going to school.

“I’m afraid not, Anya. No one is supposed to know about what was going to happen because it would just cause fear and panic. You have to keep it to yourself or the police might need to come and take you away.”

“Shock!” Anya flinched. She couldn’t let that happen, but it certainly was a disappointment that she couldn’t tell anyone.

“Loid!” (Y/n) gasped from the other room, “Don’t phrase it like that, you’ll scare her!”

Loid rolled his eyes at his reflection in the mirror and Anya began getting ready to go to school, pouting all the while.

“Have a good day at school Miss Anya!” Yor waved. “(Y/n) and I will take good care of Mr. Doggie while you’re away.”

“I’ll do my best.” (Y/n) called from the couch. Even raising her hand to wave goodbye to Anya hurt. Her whole body felt stiff and sore from the whole ordeal yesterday while it appeared to be just another normal day for Yor.

Anya and Loid said their goodbyes and then it was just (Y/n), Yor and the curious new addition to the family.

“Yor, darling, would you make me some ice packs.” (Y/n) groaned while she moved to lay flat on the couch.

“Of course! My poor, sore heart!” Yor cooed. She cupped (Y/n)’s cheek and leaned down to kiss her forehead before heading to the kitchen.

While (Y/n) waited for Yor’s return, the dog took notice of her and began to lumber up to her.

“Hello, getting used to your new home?” (Y/n) asked him.

The dog sniffed her hand, then slowly hoisted himself up onto his hind legs by placing his front paws on the edge of the couch.

“Ah, wait. No, don’t come up here— dog! No! Down! Oof!”

(Y/n) couldn’t stop the dog from laying flat across her sore body. It was a warm, and an almost comforting weight, but in the state (Y/n) was in currently, she didn’t find it entirely enjoyable, but it was kind of cute.

“Honey, did you say something…?” Yor walked back into the room, her arms filled with industrial bags of ice that she got from who-knows-where. Her eyes fell on the dog and she pouted, “That was going to be my spot, Mr. Doggie.”

“Yor, help me get him off. He’s too heavy.”

Yor did as she was asked, dragging the dog back to the floor.

“I apologize, Mr. Doggie, but (Y/n) is sore from running around yesterday. Surely you understand.” Yor then promptly dropped the giant bags of ice onto (Y/n)’s body.

“Not quite what I had in mind, but thah, thank you.” (Y/n) shivered.

The dog was undeterred by the upheaval and soon climbed his way back onto the couch, sinking between the bags of ice.

“My, perhaps he is sore too!” Yor observed. “Poor thing.”

(Y/n) sighed. She couldn’t find it within herself to make Yor push the dog away a second time. Perhaps she should feel special because the dog seemed to like her already, but her body was not appreciative of the extra pressure at this time.

“Would it help for me to massage your calves?” Yor asked thoughtfully. “Mr. Dog isn’t covering those up.”

(Y/n) mulled it over. Typically, a massage from Yor would be nice as long as she didn’t push too hard.

“I think that sounds nice, just be gentle please.”

“I will, I promise!”

And she really was. Yor did a great job, so wonderful in fact, that the combination of the frigid melting ice, the warm, weighted blanket of a dog, and the soothing massage knocked (Y/n) right out.

She was rudely awakened hours later when the dog clumsily leapt off of her to jump into Anya’s arms when she got home from school.

“Welcome home!” Yor smiled, clasping her hands to rest them against her cheek, “Oh my, such good friends already! He must have missed you!”

“Save me! He’s eating me!” Anya gasped while the dog slobbered all over her.

“He seems to have a lot of pent up energy. We should take him for a walk.” Loid suggested. He looked over to (Y/n) laid limply across the couch and smirked, “Care to join us, (Y/n)?”

“Not today.” (Y/n) deadpanned, ever so slowly lifting herself into a sitting position. “You all go on ahead. I’ll start getting dinner ready.”

“Are you sure? I could stay an help.” Yor volunteered.

“I’ll be fine,” (Y/n) assured, “Go have fun at the dog park.”

(Y/n) shuffled through the kitchen like an old woman, slowly preparing dinner. Though she could be prideful at times, she was actually surprised that she had dinner mostly completed before the Forger’s returned home.

“I hope they haven’t ran into anymore trouble.” She murmured to herself as she finished setting the table. She walked to the armchair this time around when she finished her self imposed task. She hissed through clenched teeth as she lowered herself into the plush chair.

She then decided she would never run again, maybe never even walk. She didn’t care if it would look strange, she was going to have Yor carry her everywhere from now on and if she knew anything about her love, she would be happy to do it too.

Finally, the front door opened and the Forger’s piled inside.

Anya ran up to (Y/n) all excited, “Mama, I know what to name Mr. Dog!”

“Do you? What is it?” (Y/n) thought Mr. Dog was the name already, but she was curious to hear what else Anya had come up with.

“Wait just a minute!” Anya asked.

She bounced excitedly when Loid came back from the short trip to his room, a black ribbon of fabric in hand. He deftly tied the fabric around the dog’s neck and once he stepped away, (Y/n) saw he had looped it into a bow tie.

“Behold!” Anya flung her arms out in the direction of the dog happily thumping his tail against the floor. “Bond!”

“Oh, like Bondman.” Loid understood. “That should work just fine.”

“Boof!” Bond leapt at Anya, sending her to the floor in a flurry of licks and wiggly wags that made Anya laugh.

“He seems to like it.” (Y/n) smiled fondly.

“They’re so cute!” Yor cooed.

“Come, Bond! Let me show you around the hideout!”

“Anya, it’s dinner time. And don’t forget you need to study. afterwards.” Loid warned.

“Anya will study later, promise.”

Loid’s eye twitched, but he relented.

After dinner, Anya fed Bond. She filled his bowl to the brim and watched him begin to chow down.

“Try not to give him too much.” Loid cautioned as he walked by, a towel under his arm. “I’m going to take my bath now, but I expect you to be studying by the time I’m done.”

Anya pouted and Loid walked to the bathroom. Curious, Anya took a kibble from Bond’s bowl and nearly popped it into her mouth before (Y/n) called out her name.

“Miss Anya, please don’t eat anything meant for a dog.” (Y/n) shivered in disgust as she scrubbed the dishes nearby.

“I know it must look tempting, but take it from me, it is not as good as it looks.” Yor helpfully added.

“I don’t want to know if that is coming from a place of experience or not.” (Y/n) said, but the shy laugh Yor gave was damning.

Soon after he finished his meal, Bond began to wiggle uncomfortably and Anya took notice.

“Need to go potty? Here, I’ll show you where to go.” Anya led him to a wide tub lined with newspaper. “When nobody can take you outside, you go in here. If you go anywhere else, mama will get mad cause she like things tidy.”

After business was taken care of, Anya and Bond played all over the apartment. (Y/n) wanted to remind Anya about her studies, but she couldn’t bear to break up the fun. It was Bond’s first day home, and Anya hardly got to see him before she had to go to school. A little more playtime couldn’t hurt.

(Y/n) and Yor watched them play, losing track of time. And when Loid returned from his bath, they showed him the cute little girl and her dog curled up together and fast asleep.

The studying could wait until tomorrow, Loid supposed.

[moonsidesong]

just caught up with Your Turn To Die and absolutely adored it the whole way through. it goes unbelievably hard. calling it Danganronpa But Good feels like an insult. but like... yeah what if danganronpa was good? or rather. game that makes me wish danganronpa was good.

it really keeps you on your toes the Entire time, which is why i ended up saving like......... every five to ten minutes, most times. i would say the only slower part is the minigames during chapter 2? but, i thought those were fun, and they were still broken up by plot important stuff, so i really didnt mind.

ive heard the game had a soundtrack release on CD a few years ago, but i cant seem to find much information about it? much less any resell listings. how sad... i love cd...

i wanna talk more in depth from here on out so spoilers under the cut! warning thoughts very disjointed. and i havent seen absolutely Everything the game has to offer yet (havent done any of the side stories, we'll do them soon probably) so if my takes are disproven by anything ive yet to see please do not tell me htank you

first off OHHH MY GODDDD THIS GAME IS SO MUCH LESS CREEPY ABOUT THE MINORS AND ITS SUCH A BREATH OF FRESH AIR COMPARED TO DANGANRONPA. its not perfect, of course, i do not entirely love the jokes(???) about keiji (known grown adult man) going on dates with sara (known teenage girl), but like, this game does not make me feel gross all the time? thank u nankidai for not making your teacher character with a close relationship with one of his former students a groomer! the bare minimum! im gonna hit kodaka with a stick this should not be a point in the game's favor.

anyway! ended chapter 2 with Reko and Sou (shin) alive, ended chapter 3 having lost Reko .. . :( shes my favorite... i was so sad... ranmaru we're not friends anymore/.... you suck... you killed my best girl... we um, did make a grand total of 175 save files though, so at some point me and the friend i played with are gonna go back and scrub through anything and everything that we missed. maybe after we do the side stories though, not sure yet. reko yabusame i swear to god i will crawl into the screen and kill ranmaru myself for you. i will save you. i love you so much mwah

for years ive only known midori as The Guy That Kids On Danganronpa Discourse Instagram Put Overdramatic Yet Also Somehow Extremely Haphazard Trigger Warnings on every post that included him, so i was really excited to meet him. and boy he did not disappoint this guys NUTS!!! HES CRAZAY!!!!!!!! he has such a perfectly striking look about him. i love how he almost never stops looking straight at you, and how his suit is stark black so it obscures a lot of his shape when he's in the dark, its so cool. they absolutely nailed the atmosphere whenever you're around this guy.

but the first jumpscare when he like reaches out at you from the coffin just kinda made me laugh. me when i get you

also, if you're this far in to care about my opinions on games you probably know that i am Known Danganronpa V3 Hater. i think in particular Kokichi Ouma is way too good of a character for how dogwater the game's actual plot is, and Shin Tsukimi, while not being the same, obviously, scratches that itch of a guy trapped in a death game that spends all his time lying and living under a persona because he's afraid of dying perfectly While Being In A Game That Doesnt Make Me Feel Like Eating Sheet Metal . i love this dude and his ugly several clashing colors outfit. he wants my ass like mega dead right now but thats not important surely

also, i think its sweet that joe and sara are just best friends and they rarely ever even entertain the idea that they had romantic feelings for each other. i think its extra sweet and tragic that joe was able to tell sara he loved her in the end, meaning it as his best friend. and the way the game completely ceases showing you flashbacks of him after that point and just lets the image of the hallucinations replace his actual memory overtime is so good and haunting. this doubled down by the way her memory of him is completely locked up as soon as she starts trying to actually remember the way he really was, its so good.

i think thats all i have to say for now, but umm!!! really really good im excited to go back and fill in the gaps i missed. especially regarding kanna becasue i have a lot of theories about her that i hope im on the right track about #lol. but even if i dont i want to see her i miss her. yaay!!! i love when video games are good. i love you video games.

ill probably make more posts down the line with more thoughts after i let them marinade in my brain for a while... mostly when i have thoughts ive been sending them to the friend im playing with so we can discuss theories together LOL

[crowns-of-violets-and-roses]

The Saint of Bright Doors

Fetter has been raised from birth to commit the five unforgivable sins set out in his messianic father's religion, to culminate with patricide. After being trained for this throughout childhood his mother sends him out into the world as a teenager to fulfill the mission she has set him. This is all largely backstory, dispensed of in just two short chapters. The bulk of the story follows Fetter after he has abandoned following his mother's instruction as an aimless 23 year old (by his best estimate at least) in the city of Luriat.

Fetter now has a therapist (who he has been seeing "ever since he learned what a therapist was") and a boyfriend, attends a support group for unchosen ones and helps new immigrants adjust to living in the city.

Taken out of context a lot of elements of the books sounds like they're from a novel that's doing self conscious genre commentary or is even verging on parody but the book is really nothing like that. It's a unique fantasy world that is genuinely fantastical. I find that modern settings with a high level of magic often struggle to convey a sense of wonder and this was a welcome exception to that.

It's possible it's just drawing inspiration from books I'm not familiar with but the setting felt fresh and original.

The prose is enjoyable. It occasionally tries a little too hard to be clever but that's a rare problem and for the most part it's a joy to read. In particular Chandrasekera is very skilled at shifting registers; there are moments that in the hands of a less skilled would play as comedic juxtaposition (either intentionally or worse unintentionally) but his writing makes it seem natural

As the book continues Fetter gets involved with political radicals, goes undercover as a researcher, reconnects with his dying mother and gets drawn back into his past. The book becomes more plot heavy as it continues and it's not entirely to it's benefit. It's most often at it's strongest when focusing on individual in the course of ordinary life (or well ordinary by the standards of this world).

We learn more about the history of the world and Fetter's parents throughout the story and these parts have some of the best writing in the book. One chapter is taken up by Fetter's Mother, Mother-of-Glory, relating the story of how Fetter got his name and it's one of my favourite sections of the book.

Throughout the book caste and class and the experience and perception of immigrants are constant factors which are never far from the surface.

The book does weaken towards the end. Fetter leaves and returns to Luriat and after his return it somehow feels simultaneously both unfocused and too tightly focused. Towards the very end the narrative distances itself from Fetter and we're disconnected from his inner thoughts. I understand why Chandrasekera made this choice but it's something difficult to execute after following Fetter so intimately up until then and I don't know that it is entirely successful. The latter chapters would have benefited from more room to breathe.

There's no real way she could have appeared for more than the brief period that she did but Ordinary was great and I would have loved to see more of her.

The Saint of Bright Doors is Chandrasekera's debut novel and it is impressive for a first book. As much as I thoroughly enjoyed it, I'm even more excited to see what he'll write in the future.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: blipblot! @blipblot has 20 fics in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and 19 of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @blipblot:

Do You Have a Mirror in Your Pocket?

A Lick and a Promise

I'd Build a Home with You

"Their work is always so incredible and fun and they’re just so talented!! And they’ve got so many fics out, and each one is just wonderful — especially their most recent big bang fic, A Lick And A Promise. The worldbuilding is breathtaking, the characterisations are flawless, and it’s so full of love and passion, it’s just all around a perfect fic ❤️" -- anonymous

Below the cut, @blipblot answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I absolutely adore the chemistry that Steve and Eddie have together. Their stories build off of each other so well! The different aspects between being popular and unpopular, growing up rich and growing up poor, alongside the benefits and downfalls of both of those lifestyles and how they impact each other is something I love writing. They’re fantastic narrative foils for one another.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I have tons but I would say idiots to lovers and enemies to lovers are some of my favorites. I love watching Steve and Eddie figure their shit out while also falling in love, it gets me every time.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Is unconditional love a trope? I just love writing stories that focus on love, whether that’s brotherly love, romantic love, platonic love, it doesn’t really matter to me. I get the most enjoyment writing when I’m writing about how all these different types of love affect our lives for the better and for the worse!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There’s so many to choose from! Right now I’d say at the top of my list is gayjinkies phenomenal ‘I’m a lover, boy’, if you haven't read it please go check it out and send my love to them if you do!

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

This is such an excellent question, I’m not sure! I just finished my first Historical AU, I’ve written Fantasy and In Universe so I guess the next one I’d like to tackle would be a Modern AU. I think that sounds like an absolute hoot, I’m brainstorming ideas for one as we speak!

What is your writing process like?

It’s so chaotic, it’s ridiculous. I normally just write down everything that comes to mind in the moment and then slowly whittle it into something more legible bit by bit. It is very rarely in order and I very rarely know how it’s going to end but that’s part of the fun!

Do you have any writing quirks?

Quirks, I’m not sure! I feel like I’m known for how I write dialogue but anything more specific I’m not sure I’d be able to pick up on. Maybe pillow fights, I feel like those end up in my fics more often than not somehow.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

In a perfect world, I’d prefer to post when finished but I write pretty slowly so I hate not having anything posted for months at a time. That being said, my posting schedule is nearly nonexistent as well. I just post when I have enough free time to finish a chapter!

Which fic are you most proud of?

I would say Put the Lights Out and Cry. It’s the first one I’ve ever written and looking back on it now makes me really proud that I decided to take that leap of faith and post it. It’s not perfect and there are things I wish I could go back and change but at the end of the day writing it and seeing everyone’s responses to it were incredibly rewarding and I feel so lucky that I got to share my goofy diner au with everyone.

How did you get the idea for I'd Build a Home with You?

It was for the Omegaverse Valentines Day Exchange event so I was sent a few tag ideas from the lovely MysteriousMidnight and let those stew in my brain for a while. I really struggled at first to come up with something but eventually everything sort of clicked into place plotwise.

When writing I'd Build a Home with You, what was something you didn’t expect?

Oh god, for it to be so long! It was all supposed to stay in the school building but that didn’t work out with the plot I had in mind. But once I mulled it over for a bit I just kept writing until the ending felt natural. I’d say it worked out alright in the end!

What inspired A Lick and a Promise?

Watching old Westerns with my partner! It was right around the time that the first Big Bang was happening that I came up with the idea and I slowly added stuff to it in my mind until the next Big Bang came around and I thought, why not give it a shot?

What was your favorite part to write from A Lick and a Promise?

The dialogue between Steve and Eddie at any given point. I LOVED writing them bicker and tease each other while also learning more about one another. Writing dialogue is often my favorite part of writing in general but for this fic it all came so naturally that it was a joy to see how it all came out.

How do/did you feel writing Do You Have a Mirror in Your Pocket??

It was a lot of fun! Writing Steve still in high school isn’t something I do often so that was a fun challenge in itself, figuring out how to write him with where he was on his self discovery journey, not absolutely reformed but not totally at the beginning of that journey either.

What was the most difficult part of writing Do You Have a Mirror in Your Pocket??

I really wanted to find the balance between writing Steve being humbled without going too overboard with it so I sort of struggled with that. I wanted it to be realistic without humiliating the poor guy too badly. Good thing Eddie was there to help out in the end!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

The one that’s coming to mind now is one from A Lick and a Promise, “Death may be in front of him, but Steve Harrington is standing beside him. He can’t ask for much more than that.” I’m pretty proud of how that came out.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Right now my plan is to finish up Cosa Nostra, my Mob AU, and then *finally* finish the last two chapters of the sister fic to Put the Lights Out and Cry which is titled In the Alley if you want more of that universe in particular!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I wanted to thank the moderators that work on the Steddieunderdog blog for all the amazing work they do sharing work that deserves more attention! Y’all are the bees knees and I’m so thankful for the work you guys have done for the fandom <3 

Thank you to our author, @blipblot, and our anonymous nominator! See more of blipblot's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!