#this is two months old i just neglected to post it

[filmfuneral]

[the-acid-pear]

Y'know this little throwaway gag is so bizarre to me and I know this game is a bit very different to 2 and 3 but look at Matt's reaction when Jack raids the place in 3:

You'd argue he's simply stopping Jack bc he hates this guy and he also hates this job which Could Be True but i highly doubt bc overall despite his virginity and overall cursed vibe, Matt seems to be a good employee, by all means (I mean, Peter literally gave him a vacation instead of firing him in 2, so that says a lot).

Plus, Dave hates this guy as much as he hates him! He literally always calls him creepy and, AND!

This is the only footage you get of the prize corner in 2. Which is also the first game to show Matt and Dave's disdain for one another, Dave being likely more scared of Matt than Matt will ever be of him.

Which is all very curious. 2 does set a drastic change for Matt too with him going from being just strange to outright creepy, so was the old pizza place closing something that actually affected him or was he consistently that creepy all along? And if the later, did he just start hating Dave after that or did they always have beef and they simply had some sort of arrangement (or even higher word from Steven who tended to let Dave do whatever he wanted in general) that let him do so?

[homesick4la]

intimate — hamzahthefantastic

contains: 18+ content mdni!!!!, oral + fingering (fem receiving), inexperienced reader

summary: you spend a random friday night. exploring physical intimacy with your boyfriend.

a/n: cooked this up at 2 am and wanted to post hi

part 2: closer

you and hamzah had been dating for a couple months-

on one random tuesday evening, you and your best friend had decided to go out to your local karaoke bar. during your cover of carly simon’s you’re so vain, your eyes locked with a pair of big brown eyes from across the room. he had curly hair poking out of a camo hat and a silly shirt on. he’s cute, you thought.

the several shots you had taken throughout the night left you feeling brave. you smiled at him and continued to hold eye contact with the stranger throughout the duration of the song- performing as if it were only you two in the room.

a smile spread across his face and he quickly began mouthing the lyrics back to you. mirroring the emotion you poured into each word. and in that moment, even though he was a stranger at the time, you fell completely head over heels for him.

he approached after you finished the song, applauding you on your performance and introducing himself. you two spent the rest of the night talking. not only was he even more attractive up close- he was hilarious. he understood all of your niche internet references and matched your sarcastic jokes. once the karaoke bar begun closing up, he quickly asked if you’d want to coffee in the morning which you replied with an immediate and over-eager “yes.”

since then the two of you were inseparable. he loved taking you on planned out dates but even more than that, he loved doing mundane life tasks with you. cleaning. grocery shopping. helping you take your laundry down to the local laundry mat. he’d do absolutely anything as long as he got to be around you.

so in many ways, your guys’ relationship resembled an old married couple. the way you bantered back and forth. the way you shared your darkest secrets with one another. the way you could simply never get sick of each other’s presence.

the one thing you two had never truly explored was physical intimacy.

you’d made out of course. and there were definitely times you wanted more. but neither of you had ever initiated anything more.

hamzah had never directly asked, but he figured you didn’t have much experience after you told him you had never had a boyfriend. this was why he was so hesitant to pursue anything further than kissing with you. he would never want you to feel pressured in any way so he decided he’d wait for you to initiate that you wanted more.

it was like any other friday night- the two of you making out on hamzah’s couch, neglecting the movie that took thirty minutes to decide on.

a soft moan escapes your mouth and hamzah allows himself to let his hands slide down your waist to your hips. he grips onto them, pulling you closer than you thought possible.

with his hips pressed against you, you feel just how turned on he is. and god, you feel the same.

you hook a leg around his hips, allowing him to press into you even deeper. you push your hips up and the friction is downright intoxicating.

within seconds, the two of you are grinding together, completely clothed. the kisses getting messier and messier. satisfied sounds coming from the both of you.

hamzah’s hands roam your body, unable to stay still. his hands slide under your large t-shirt as he moves from your mouth to your jaw. his fingers begin tracing the lace of your bra as he kisses alongside your neck.

you guys had never gotten this heated before. the thought of what’s to come makes you nervous. he feels you stiffen under him.

“you okay?” he looks up at you worriedly.

“y-yeah i just, never done this before,” you admit.

“s’okay we won’t do anything you don’t want to do,” he moves his hand, rubbing the side of your waist soothingly. “whenever you tell me to stop, i will.”

“i don’t want to stop,” you confess. he nods before placing his lips back on your neck.

“what have you done before?” he asks between kisses.

“nothing. only kissing.”

hamzah learning that you’d done nothing at all had suprised him a bit.

“really?” he looks at you, “no guy has ever tried anything with you before?”

“no. i guess no guy has ever wanted me like that,” you explain. truly, you had never felt sexy or desirable until meeting hamzah. he was constantly reminding you of just how attractive you were.

“shut up.” he grins like he doesn’t believe you before placing a sweet kiss to your lips. “you’re perfect.” he kisses your cheek gently. “s’beautiful,” his lips move to your jaw once again.

“and so fucking sexy.” his low voice vibrates against the skin on your neck. “and i want you like that.”

you feel his fingers play with the edge of your t-shirt. he glances up to you as he starts to pull up the fabric- asking permission. you nod in response.

he runs his hands over your lacy bralette. you arch your back, allowing him to unclip and completely remove your bra, leaving you in a small pair of black lacy boy shorts.

you feel vulnerable- nervous.

but he’s staring at you as if this is the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

he kisses you. placing one hand on your breast. the other cupping the side of your face, tilting your head back so he can deepen your kiss. his fingers work your nipple before being replaced by his mouth.

then he moves towards your stomach, kissing his way down. you spread you legs automatically, giving him more room to work his way down your torso. the thin fabric of your boy shorts getting wetter and wetter by the second.

he stops right before your boy shorts, hooking his fingers at the band of them.

“this okay?” he asks, his big brown eyes looking up at you.

“yeah, keep going.” you nod and shift your hips closer toward him, feeling needy.

just like that, your lacy shorts are being thrown to the side. hamzah’s hands go to the inside of your thighs, spreading you wider before placing sweet kisses on both inner thighs.

his sweet kisses are replaced by his tongue running up the inside of your thigh. he’s taking his time but god the anticipation is killing you.

you whimper and his tongue is immediately running up and down your folds and then circling your clit slowly. your hands hold onto his dark curls, earning a deep groan from him.

he continues to suck on your clit in a way that makes you feel like your floating. and you simply cannot contain the satisfied moans leaving your throat.

he lifts his mouth up and the loss of contact makes you want to cry until you see his hand moving up your thigh.

the pad of his thumb presses your clit, making slow circles.

“do you ever touch yourself like this?” he asks, his voice confident and curious.

“y-yeah.” you answer, barely able to get words out.

“yeah?” he grins, “what do you think about, baby?”

the sound of his voice makes the knot in your stomach grow stronger.

“this,” you admit, “i- think about you t-touching me like this.”

he slips a finger inside you. a devilish smile on his face.

“i think about you too.” he slides a second finger in. “i’ve thought about this so many times.”

“thought about how wet you’d get for me. how pretty you’d look when i make you come..”

he cuts himself off, his mouth now occupied with completely devouring your core. his two fingers still pumping in and out of you at a pace that makes you see stars.

“want you..to come..all over my fingers.” he says breathlessly.

all you can do is let out a shuddered sigh in response. you’re so close. his fingers increase in pace, perfectly coordinating with his tongue. you tug on his hair, needing to grasp onto something.

“hamzah,” you whimper. “hamzah, i’m going to-“

you don’t even get to finish your sentence before you cry out. pleasure flooding over your entire body in a way it never has. a way much more intense than anything you’d done on your own.

he removes his fingers and brings his hand towards your face.

“open your mouth,” he says, looking up at you. “want you to know how fucking good you taste, pretty girl.”

you taste his fingers in your mouth, sucking them clean before releasing them.

he grins at you before pressing his mouth to yours, kissing you gently.

he pulls away, tracing his fingers up and down one of your arms soothingly.

“feel good?” he questions.

“so good,” you laugh, still catching your breath after your orgasm.

he kisses your temple before pulling you up, positioning you two upright on the couch once again with his arm around your waist.

“so should we restart this movie- because it was actually really good before you started distracting me.”, you tease.

“girl, don’t even.” he responds, pulling you closer towards him and holding up the remote to rewind the movie.

a/n: guys i have never written any sort of smut so sorry if this awful and too long and boring… might delete this after like a day…lol but i will write more if u guys want… tehe… k bye muah

p.s. there is a fly in my room and it’s 3:30 am and i can’t sleep and all i can hear is the goddamn fly buzzing around me

[sheep-from-rad]

How would the batfamily react if they found out that the singer/influencer reader was dating one of the villains?, imagine the reader has friends with benefits from the villains

(What kind of jokes do you like?)

Batman is so scary, even bullets are afraid to hit him. That's why they aimed for his parents. (sorry)

anon 🦌

Note: 🦌anon please send more jokes. After the Solmare announcement regarding the Obey me series, I am one push away from drinking every wine in my fridge.I’m gonna need more jokes (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) I don't give permission to have my fics posted to other sites, copied, or fed to AI. Thank you.

Masterlist 

divider by: @strangergraphics-archive and @strangergraphics. Please do support them ♡

You heard that? That’s the collective sign of every Batfamily member sighing in disappointment and collective glare towards Bruce. Like father like child, of all genes to be inherit you inherited his taste (ಠ_ಠ). Getting entangled with a villain is not something new in the Batfamily because they are either related to one (Cassandra, Stephanie, Damian) or romantically involved with one (Bruce with Talia, Poison Ivy, Catwoman and sometimes Harley. Dick with Catwoman II. And Jason with… you know what let’s not talk about Talia and Jason. That one is weird on all levels). 

If you’re romantically involved with someone who does not know Batman’s real identity then it’s not much of a problem. The family is just going to visit said enemy and scar them for the rest of their mortal life. It will be so bad they will just quit being a villain and leave Gotham all together. If you’re romantically involved with someone who knows Batman’s real identity, then it will be a chaotic event. Bruce is already fighting villains and now he’s fighting his blood pressure too. 

Riddler would be so smug about it. He would rub it in every Batfamily member’s face and would constantly drop your name in fights like ‘How would they react if you hurt me?’ or ‘Oh they will be mad if I come back bruised!’. Riddler would be so insufferable like the madman he is. If you’re dating Harvey Dent, you’re technically dating two persons (in most media depictions, Harvey is the same age as Bruce so let’s go with that one). His incorruptible part is basically filling every space that Bruce neglected to fill. He’ll teach you about legals and laws, tell you stories about their days and he protects you from those who dare to come close. His corrupted part, Two face, is kind of mean. He will never miss the chance to remind you of the potential parental issues you have. 

Headcanon that Harley will make it her mini mission to keep you away from Joker because let’s face it, Joker will not love you. He will only use you and break you like how he did to Harley. 

Honestly, it doesn’t matter if the relationship you have is good or bad. To the family it’s a parasite that needs to be terminated immediately before it grows. You’re grounded. You’re not allowed to go out alone. If you don’t live in the estate anymore, you will just randomly find your apartment sold to someone else and you’ll be taken back to the estate. No metahumans in Gotham rule but Damian already has the permission from Bruce to have the Titans stay for a while as reinforcements. Even Jason is patrolling more and everyday now he will make a report to the estate. 

During those days they were full on babying you to the point of infantilization. They’ll give you ‘the talk’ especially if you’re in a friends with benefits relationship with a villain and sometimes they’ll go so far into showing you every other person they had been with. They are not above poisoning the relationship too. They’ll show you expertly doctored photos showing their ‘infidelity’. Guilt trip you into reading old cases and gaslight you. You’re not in love with them, you were just manipulated into thinking that you are. 

But of course, what is a Wayne if not stubborn? Month of being grounded and being in heavy watch and you’re done. You already have their shifts memorized down to who checks on you at night. After hours once you’re certain that everyone is now asleep or busy on their patrols (or finished checking your room), you start acting out the plan of running away. You passed each security detail without triggering them, passed every room without alerting anyone, and passed Titus without waking him up. However before you can even reached the doorknob, you heard Dick and Jason behind you:

“Looks like someone took lessons from Catwoman” 

“You know we saw your lover today. We were going to let them go but I guess no one’s picking you up anymore” 

The next time you wake up, you are greeted by the fresh warm breeze and the sound of water hitting the shore. As you descended down the stairs, news about a villain going missing was on the headlines along with the date on the screen saying ‘Thursday’. It has been three days since you got caught by Jason and Dick and Tim just entered the door carrying take outs from Mad Yak cafe. You’re in Happy Harbor, far away from Gotham and your lover is missing. Was the no kill rule violated? You can only pray it’s not.

[zarla-s]

I figured I might as well make a second post with bot news since the other one was getting kind of long, haha. Anyway, if you're just tuning in, the situation is that Team Fortress 2 was neglected for years and got infested with aimbots that made the game unplayable. Abruptly with no warning about two months ago, they all disappeared. Valve, the company that made TF2, finally got off their butt and did a lot of work banning and deleting the bothosters, enough so that it's been botfree for way longer than anyone expected! That doesn't mean they're gone forever though, so I've been keeping an eye on things for when the shoe drops. Make sure to enjoy this bot-free period while it lasts! We don't know when they'll come back...

So, what's the news? There have been scattered reports of bots as usual, although one actually was accompanied with an actual video of a Sniperbot with the name killtf2 doing annoying bot things, which is a bit worrying, but it was only one bot. I also saw a vid of a Widowmaker spinning just like the aimbot Snipers do. Maybe that's always been a thing in Overwatch, I don't know, but it's the first time I saw it and it definitely reminds me of the TF2 bots.

The oddest thing so far have been fake servers masquerading as well-known community servers that are filled with aimbots. One such set of servers is skial, so the bothosters set up their own fake skial servers to trick people into joining, where they're running a bunch of aimbots. Presumably this is to test any new botting software they have, or try to figure out exactly how Valve is detecting them so they can get around it. Whatever the reason, it's not good. There are a whole bunch of them in the video acting just like the old ones used to act. This is in a community server, so there's less oversight from Valve about what goes on in there, but either way, don't like it! Do not like it!!

I've still been checking in-game every now and then and haven't seen any bots, and no one I asked has seen any either, but I'm wary... how long can the defenses hold out...

[obsessiveloveistheonlylove]

Hey, I've read your last yandere Bruce, neglected fam reader and it gave me an idea. What if instead of the reader wasting all that money or luxury, she saved most of it in a closed account and when Bruce bought the apartment she made him sign it in her name as a plan to when the right time comes or if she needs to, she will sell the apartment and use all the money she saved to leave to start over in another country. Imagine Bruce finding out when she reaches the point where she put her apartment for sale, or better, actually selling it to a friend or someone they know and actually leaving.

Yan!batfam with neglected!sister reader leaving the state/country

Anon your mind is fucking golden! I also thought of the reader having the apartment signed in her name just because Bruce wanted her to feel comfortable but I love the layers this adds.

Hopefully these couple of hcs are good enough while I work on pt 2. Also if anyone else has any questions about any other scenarios or certain characters feel free to send them in I'll try to respond whenever I have time and I write for any gender reader.

Word count ; 1073

Unedited

___

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ bruce is not happy with this turn of events at all. He wasn't expecting nor did he sense that this was going to happen, you didn't post about it or even reference moving on any of your social media apps which he lovingly stalks watches over to make sure you are content with your life and also because he likes seeing you happy and enjoying all the things he got you. And it hurts him a little that you didn't even say something to him … he knows you don't owe him that, not when your relationship is still in a fragile state but he's trying.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ he only figures out after someone in the fam(most likely dick) broke in dropped by your apartment and likely scared one of your friends shitless.. obviously both parties are shocked but your friend more so as they don't know who the hell just broke into their house, dick is shocked when this random person claims that he's trespassing in their home. After that awkward situation dick immediately reports back to Bruce about this over the comms and with some digging from Tim they're able to find out that you had sold the house and the exact date that you had, approximately a month ago. That sends off alarm bells for the entire batfam, where are you now?! It takes an hour or so of searching to find out exactly where you moved and when they do they can't decide what to do with the information.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Alfred is the voice of reason in this family, he discourages the batboys from immediately doing everything in their power to bring you home, he advocated for you to live wherever you choose and says that it's your life and that the family cannot choose for you. Alfred loves you dearly you are basically his child he views you the way he views Bruce. He may be a yandere but he's a selfless one he truly only has your best interest in mind. His words are like a slap of reality for some of the Batfam mainly Tim, Steph and Jason all three of then become a lot more hesitant to go through with their plans to bring you home on the other hand dick, bruce, and damian are adamant that you aren't safe unless they can be nearby.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Nobody can come to a decision the night they find out and so they decide to sleep on it until they can come to an agreement the manor will be tense for a week or two at most before they spring into action, they will all eventually cave to their selfish needs even if some feel guilty for doing it. Alfred will sigh disappointedly but ultimately allow them to go through with their plans he only hopes you can forgive him for not doing more

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you on the other hand will be left unaware to all that's going down you'd gotten a new phone and lived in a whole new state maybe even country! They couldn't bother you here. You were happier than you have been for a long time. Even if you missed your old friends you still tried to keep in touch over the phone.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ as for why you did this? It's likely the other batboys' faults, Bruce is annoying but he's not nearly as demanding of your time as the others, namely dick. Dick is insanely clingy once you're on his radar and he becomes aware of how much his neglect affected you mentally. The guilt for him was all consuming when he found out how much he hurt you and that he neglected you for quite literally no reason, you just didn't matter to him at the time. the thought now makes him sick, of course you matter, what the hell was his problem!! Dick would have constantly broke your boundaries by hugging and touching and cuddling you he feels like he needs to make it up to you by being a good big brother, even if that's not what you need anymore after all it's far too late you're already an adult but he refuses to see it that way you're still his baby sister. He inserts himself into your life constantly and even if he'll pay for things he'll only do so under the circumstances that the money be spent ‘together’ like sure he'll take you to that fancy restaurant but it's going to be made into a sister-brother bonding moment, like yeah he'll let you use his card to go shopping but only if he's going with you. Even if you don't use him for money he will still find ways to insert himself into your life. He's overwhelmingly intense and his behavior mixed with the other overbearing members in the batfam plus the added overwhelming feelings of having people who ignored you all your life suddenly want your time and attention is probably why you felt like you had to leave.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you won't be gone for more than a month or two before your dragged back to Gotham and back to your family, only this time you've got a metaphorical collar around your neck as now you're likely brought back to the manor always under surveillance and on the off chance you're still allowed to own your own apartment again just know it will be heavily bugged along with your phone courtesy of Tim even if he feels bad about invading your privacy he knows they need to see your texts to make sure you're not planning to leave Gotham again. Oh and now the bat members will each take turn patrolling your house and following you from the shadows to make sure you're safe.

___

All in all I'd say you'll have your fun for a little while but ultimately you'll just drive them deeper in their obsession and they will likely kidnap and bring you home.

[emacrow]

Danny's pov aka 3 months and 24 days ago before Jazz visited by creator/emacrow

Danny was not panicking. No, he wasn't as he stared up at the foggy smug that covered the sky in Gotham city.

That fancy apartment that Sam assigned him to stay for his collage life, got destroyed during a bomb/hostage by some clown wannabe who fought a liminal in a furry costume during his school time.

Along with his collection of accurate space related merchandise he had in that apartment got destroyed except for the mini projector tucker made him of the stars that he kept in him chest, intangible for now with his thermos filled with ectoplasm and his wallet.

The only available place at the moment was a rundown back alley apartment in the darker part of Gotham, a red flag for neglected health department, with the mold on the wall, three bat hanging on the ceiling, but that wasn't the worse of it.

It was the kid's crying or getting yelled at by drunken parents in the neighbors apartment as the walls were too thin that Danny could practice heard all four story apartments.

Danny's hands tighten so hard in the a fist to push down the growing length of his fingers nearly shifting in ghost form of claws.

"Remember jazz advice, I can do this. I'm the one in control, not my obsessions. I can do this, I'd beaten Dan for spirit sake, I can do this."

Unfortunately that mental strain of control lasted for 4 days straight.

The sound of smack made Danny's teeth gritted so hard as his head nearly whiplash, eyes glowing neon blue toward the sound of a little toddler crying out loud as the snapped bit of control of his obsessions rear its terrifying head.

3 days, of walking through this Damn shitty apartment seeing kids cautious huddle walking or limping around with bruises that he could see with, was torture on his protection obsession.

He could help them, save the day like he used to, beat some scummy bastardly asshole with a inch of their life and ripe off their arm off that dare beat their own flesh and blood and tear their thro-

Danny shook his head from the invasive thoughts out of pure panic, biting his lips til it bleed red.

"Im in control, not my obsessions, I'm in control, not them, I'm in contro-

....

....

.....

.....

.....

He was groaning into his hands, peeking between his eyes, to see the two sibling, 5 year old Denis and Diani looking at him with sparkling puppy eyes, gorging themselves on the freshly made mac and cheese covered in cooked mini cut sausages with a side of chicken nuggets and fries, a freshly deinfected sippy with fruit juice in the table in his apartment.

He slipped up. It was just a tiny slip of control. They were starving for god sake with how malnourished they look.

This is going to be a one-time thing, and the first thing he is doing is child support services in the morning.

....

...

..

.

Ok he might have gone overboard in two months

Previous post link here<-

[emmaofnormandy]

Imagine Aegon is the father of your children… to whom you are the greatest defender. (Part II)

Warnings: this time we have drama, angst, but fluffy like usual. Maybe some smut. Long post.

@dracaryxzs tagging you once more, hope you like it!

***

• The Last Feast.

You are present at your father’s last dinner. Despite detesting the circumstances, you put an effort at your husband’s request, as much as either of you are uncomfortable with this growing awkwardness—thanks to your father’s preference over Rhaenyra and your mother’s likewise neglect.

Not to mention the Strong bastards who tease your lover endlessly—as well as your younger brother Aemond. You recollect how, when you were ten and two summers, you hit Jacaerys in his face and kicked Lucerys’ belly after their bullying over your family.

“You have no idea whom you are messing with, boys. I may be kind, I may be sweet, but I am as dragon as either of you are. If yet one may say so… considering there’s nothing Valyrian on you.”

Words—and deeds—that earned Aemond’s respect and Aegon’s admiration. Today you wish you had better control of your temper, perhaps being more diplomatic, but you’d still stand up for Aegon nonetheless.

“You look thoughtful today”, you hear Aegon telling you. “I think it’s too early for you to join this bloody dinner. You have been just churched, Y/N.”

You smile, letting memories of a distant past fade when Aegon comes at you, holding you from behind as your ladies have just finished dressing you and brushing your long silver locks.

Today you opt to wear your two-sided braided hair and a long, silk green gown which may reinforce your curves. His hands are precisely there as his eyes stare at your reflection in the mirror of your privy quarters.

About a month and half ago, you gave birth to your fifth child—and you’re already the mother of Aegon, Alysanne, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera—whom you named Baelor after your grandsire. To the surprise of many, you are not only as fertile as your sisters and mother, but just as strong.

Even though ladies are strongly recommended to avoid events after this period of churching—where they go through the process of getting cleansed carnally and spiritually under the Septs of the Seven—you care very little about such rules, specially when your sire father is about to depart this world—something that gives you mixed feelings.

“I am as good as before”, you turn at him with a smile on your lips. “I may look tired but that is because I had to wake early to feed Baelor.”

Aegon chuckles lightly.

“…all the whilst our dearest Jaehaera was found sneaking under our blanket.”

You laugh heartily.

“She seems to take after you, I’m afraid. Are you ready to put some reins in her, Aegon?”

To which your husband scoffs.

“Please. I’m here to protect and spoil my princesses. Yourself included, dear”, and saying so, he presses a kiss on your cheek. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

You spot a glint of mischief behind his eyes; it already makes your intimate parts ache for him. You gently put two fingers over his lips and bite yours when he takes to his mouth, sucking each without parting gazes.

“Mm. Someone’s not been churched enough, I see.”, Aegon teases you, now going to press you against the wall.

“My darling, you best not ruin me for the feast. We are awaited”, you try your best not to give him, but what power do you have when he, taller than you, towers over you and starts to lift the skirt of your gowns…

“Oh there you are!”, you and Aegon almost jump out the moment you hear Helaena’s voice. “Alysanne and I were looking for you!”

Suddenly the seven year old princess with short curly hair and eyes that resemble her parents shows up dressing a gown that is very similar to her aunt’s.

“Papa! Mama! Aunt Laena did my dress, look! I’ve been looking for you in order to show you it!”, she steps up proudly under Helaena’s fond gaze and clapping hands.

You are quickly straightening yourself when Aegon promptly goes to one knee to match his daughter’s height and speak as if nothing was going on before their… sudden arrival.

“You look gorgeous as ever, Alys! Beautiful like your mama!”, he beams at her, before lifting his daughter and holding her tight.

“Weeee!”, Alysanne giggles. “You can still carry me! Look, aunt Laena! Look how strong my papa is!”

Helaena is all smiles at the scene. You join her side, adding a teasing comment:

“It appears your father is still strong, uh? Here I was thinking otherwise.”

Aegon rolls eyes at you, but Alysanne points out her tongue in turn.

“There is none as strong as my papa!”

“That’s my girl!”, he kisses her cheek, spinning her around a little more before downing her at last. “Now, you best go to see your grandsire. Where is Egg? And your twins?”

“Egg has joined Maekar”, she tells him in reference to Helaena and Aemond’s oldest son. “They are insufferable.”

Helaena chuckles lightly.

“Best mates, as they should.”

“As for me… at least I have Rhae to be friends with”, and that being said the princess runs after her cousin, Maekar’s own twin, both born in the same year as Alysanne’s.

“You should be more careful, leaving the door unlocked”, says Helaena, amused.

And she turns before either of you could form a proper answer. You sigh and as you link your arm with Aegon’s, you say:

“She is not wrong, you know.”

“Where can I be faulted if these kids are growing too fast these days”, grumbles Aegon.

You poke his side playfully.

“The joke’s on you for being careless and leaving the door open.”

Aegon chuckles, pressing another kiss on your cheeks before going to the king’s privy quarters where a family reunion is expected.

*

You are sitting opposite Aemond and Helaena, next to your husband on the left side of the table. You are making sure your children are behaving well at the same time instructing your maids what to do in case they get…bored.

Whilst you do so, Aegon avoids Rhaenyra’s gaze, who sits on the opposite right of the table, with her own offspring. Trying to sweep away the taste of bad blood, he rather focuses in his own children.

The sight of his growing family brings a relief to his wounded pride. For years, longing for something his father and mother lacked in providing, seems to have been filled with your love and these of his children.

When seeing how Egg is looking for him and, once finding his gaze, smiles in search of approval, Aegon forgets his haunted memoirs and gives his boy and heir a positive sign with his thumb up.

It’s how happy Egg is that makes Aegon believe that he’s overcome his broken heart. By how proud his son looks just after being acknowledged by Aegon makes him think that… had only his father done that for years, one small gesture such as this, well… wouldn’t things be different?

Looking now at his daughter, Princess Alysanne. She’s every inch his own and Aegon takes pride in his eldest girl. She is sweet tempered and talkative—oh doesn’t she like to talk? Aegon observes how she and her cousin, Princess Rhaella, engage in some serious conversation which the prince supposes to be about dragons.

He does approve how they are bonding. And when his gaze meets Aemond’s, the eldest of the two realizes this is a better out coming than both of them expected—considering their upbringing. Aemond, of his part, gives a small smirk, considering he is proud too of his children.

And then… there are the twins, of course, and the newly born son who’s not present. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys are not gloomy nor moody, simply the mirror of Aegon’s domestic joy.

This picture of the family he never had that is now his new reality makes him at peace with his parents… even if at times, such as now, he is remembered of everything he didn’t have.

“I would like to make a toast”, says King Viserys, and his voice drags Aegon out of his particular bliss. “My family reunited here. Everyone together as it should, the perfect reflection of how peaceful our realm is.”

All eyes are set on the dying king. The evidence is clear and you cannot help yourself wondering… how all would’ve been different had he acknowledged Aegon’s inheritance. When casting a quick look at your sister Rhaenyra, you realize that she’s never wanted the high prize.

“Mama”, your daughter’s hand pushing your sleeve draws you out of your thoughts.

“What is it, sweetling?”

“Will the dragons die?”

You furrow your eyebrows, ignoring Helaena’s curious gaze at the sight of you two.

“Why would you ask this question?”

Alysanne hesitates, suddenly realizing this may not be the most proper place to speak. But since the music is now playing and the babbling is loud, you encourage her to speak her mind.

“I… I had a nightmare again.”

“With what, my dove? You will claim your dragon, eventually”, you assure her.

“I know I will, but this isn’t it. I am talking about a red dragon being smashed. It looked terrifying to watch.”

Back then, you do not comprehend what red dragon is your daughter speaking of: neither you nor Aegon’s dragons possess red scales. Before you could find a way to assure your daughter this is nothing but a bad dream, a sound takes you out of your thoughts.

“I’d like to make a toast for these… Strong boys.”

Your eyes go wide at Aemond’s bluntness. Helaena is too surprised, and you two share a meaningful, confident look. Both of you take your children out of the dining table, sensing trouble is coming out.

Later, you come back to rush Aegon out of this mess.

“I was handling just well”, he tells you prideful.

Indeed, to your relief he bears no black eye. But by how Rhaenyra looks angry, you know enmity is official.

You hold her stare as you stroke your husband’s face.

“I know. Who could beat you, anyway? You did nothing wrong.”

And by saying that, you kiss his lips, finding home in his embrace.

***

• A Storm Of Iron Blades.

Later that night, there is nothing to occupy your thoughts. With your children asleep and your churching period finally at end, you gladly resume your activities.

And your favorite one is riding your husband, of course.

“Aegon!”, you cry out his name, searching for support against the wall as his hands hold firmly your hips whilst his tongue does wonderfulness in you. “Oh Gods!”

And you move your hips gracefully, smirking at the sight of subduing such a prideful prince, yours to be king.

You arch your back, smirking wide as he slaps your hips, hair now a complete puddle of mess as you come undone.

Your husband drinks every juice you give him, such is his thirst. But domineering he still is as, restless like usual, he flips positions and is now thrusting right into you.

“We are conceiving again”, he whispers against your hot skin, turning you around so your face can be seen. Aegon wraps a hand around your neck all the whilst he pulls your hair the way you like him to.

“One more child?”, you moan loud, burying your nails against his skin as you two move as one.

“I told you we are making this a grand family”, he thrusts harder, pleased to earn a louder moan this time.

Matching his hips with yours, Aegon knows you delegate him control. Every time you come after churching, you settle under him, legs firmly tied around his waist… and when you try to swap, oh snap! He got you there.

“Kiss me!”, you demand him. “Now!”

Aegon gladly complies to your commands, pursuing your lips desperately so. In a crazy demonstration of how your connection works, both of you reach climax at the same time.

As he lies his head at your left breast, Aegon strokes your cheek and says:

“Thank you.”

“What for?”, you ask him surprised.

“For giving me what I was refused: a family.”

You peck his lips, cuddling onto him.

“I love you, Aegon. I hope you know I’d do anything for you. Anything at all.”

As he looks up at him, Aegon knows the veracity of these words. And when he kisses you, the prince fears for them at the same.

*

Little Egg comes early next morning to get his father’s attention. You realize they are very close, which makes your chest swell with pride. It’s you who welcome your eldest when door opens and you are still breastfeeding baby Baelor, despite Aegon’s protest that you should be doing so in your bed not on your feet.

“Darling! What is it?”, you smile brightly at him.

Despite the nickname, Little Egg is hardly little now. He’s grown quite fast for his age and will most likely to be very tall in his early adulthood. His hair is long now, emulating his father’s.

“I want to see my lord father.”

Thankfully, Aegon has just left his privy quarters when his son’s voice reach him.

“What’s lord for? Father is just fine”, Aegon pulls a grimace at the formality.

Little Egg chuckles.

“My lady grandmother told me I should be mindful of my manners.”

“Who cares about what that old woman says?”, and here he ignores your weak protest at how your mother is addressed. “Come here, won’t you hug me properly?”

As you sit to finish feeding your baby and hold him close, you delight at the scene of Little Egg running to the arms of Aegon, chuckling as he is spinning around before putting down.

“A egg has hatched”, says your brave little boy. “I reclaimed it as mine.”

“Well, of course it’s yours!”, says Aegon, admired. “We put that egg with you since you were born. You slept it tightly with it!”

Little Egg blushes at his remark.

“Well, either way, it’s born! And it’s mine!”

“Fantastic! What’s the name of it?”

“I thought about something to honor your dragon, papa, since it’s golden with details in silver. So I figured to call it Goldenfyre.”

You swear you thought Aegon’d burst into tears. You too think some tears come from your eyes, aware of how important this is to your husband. A moment once stolen in his childhood, but somehow regained to compose his son’s.

“Will you show me Goldenfyre?”, Aegon smiles proudly at his boy.

“Yes”, Little Egg smiles timidly, but you spot pride in his eyes. “And after that I want to show mummy too.”

“Of course my dearest”, you tell him just as delighted.

“I also saved an egg to Baelor”, he tells you proudly when coming at you to earn a motherly kiss you give him.

“That’s my boy. Remember, this is your brother whom you shall always protect.”

Very serious, says your small version of your husband:

“I will not fail in this duty, mother.”

“I know you won’t.”

As you look up, finding Aegon as tearful as you, contentment finds solace in this new home, built over a wrecked one. Perhaps the Gods could be good, after all.

*

Not everything is about family, however. You need a moment to fly with Dreamfyre again and are about to do so with your youngster one when the Queen comes after you with a grave expression.

“Where is Aegon?”

“Greetings to you too, mother”, you do not mind the disdain in your tongue. “He’s with his son. Something you could have done too if you had the time.”

Alicent looks at her daughter as if she somehow wished you were like Helaena: quieter and serene, even though you are more than aware how your younger sister is also estranged with the Queen. Not that you have been very wayward, you have rarely been at her presence… is all.

Old wounds takes time to heal.

“This is not the moment nor the time to point out my wrongs. I know you will not understand the sacrifices I’ve made for this family, but I need you to summon Aegon.”

“Can you not do this yourself since you have sacrificed so much for us?”

Alicent sighs. At times she finds hard to look at you, and you know that is because you resemble Aegon.

“Your father…”

Now she has your attention. You think wise to give your maid your Baelor.

“Yes?”

What you find in your mother’s eyes knocks your pride down.

“Your father has… departed this world.”

In other words, you know you should be prepared to war. And how strange it is when for the first time in a long while you and the queen find comfort in each other with a hesitant embrace.

Outside, you could hear the lightenings.

***

You are flying Dreamfyre when clouds start to rumble. Your dragon turns her head to give you a look as if she’s sensing your intimate thoughts. Amidst the announce of a storm sun is starting to rise in the horizon and you should go back… but you are reluctant. So she knows where to take you.

To your surprise, though, you find him there. In the very spot where everything began. Has it almost been ten years since you and him professed feelings for each other? It certainly doesn’t feel like it.

“Egg”, you call him affectionately. “I wasn’t expecting to seeing you here.”

Aegon looks distraught, a view that much plagues your heart. You take his side and hold his hand.

“War is coming. She’s not going to accept I am our father’s heir.”

“We can do this”, you tell him firmly. To his surprise, you are determined to go to the end of it. “I know my place, but you must know yours. Father has determined as tradition has that a male heir is to sit upon the iron throne. This happens to be you.”

“I wasn’t prepared for the role”, Aegon admits in one of his rare displays of weakness.

You cup his cheeks with both hands and make him look at you. Aegon finds comfort in you, solace for his insecurities, which you know so well. What’s more is that you never left him.

You stayed.

“Circumstances are better teachers than theories. I can help you with that, though. I am not made of silk or dragon blood”, you flash him a side smirk. “I have a brain sharp as sword.”

“Y/N… I never underestimated you. We…”, and here he whispers. “We both know you’d be a better queen.”

You chuckle quietly, rubbing your nose against his. Rain starts to fall but you both seem immune to it.

“Shush. I know my place, husband. You will be a great king.”

As if convinced by your arguments, Aegon rests his head against your shoulder, and you rock him gently, stroking his silver locks.

“We are doing this for our children.” He tells you firmly, regaining his composure.

Hands intertwined, eyes locked. Mutual communication.

“My Visenya”, Aegon smiles, besotted.

“My Conqueror”, you beam at him.

And all is sealed with a kiss.

*

The green council is gathering and in the meantime you spend your time with your sister and your children.

“We must be wary”, whispers Helaena to you.

You cast her a knowing look.

“Can we prevent it to happen?”

“I don’t think so. The crown has a price to pay.”

“I shall do it so”, you tell her firmly.

And then the conversation breaks suddenly.

“Mama”, says Alysanne, running to her side. “Will papa get burnt?”

Never before you detested these dreams your daughter and sister share.

“No”, you assure her firmly, giving a side glance at Helaena, who’s holding her own children protectively. “Nothing bad will happen to him. This I vow.”

To the rest of the day, despite not contenting yourself with embroidery, you settle with the role of mother just fine. But as rain gets heavier outside, you know another will come eventually: that of a wife ready to fight for her husband.

Later that evening, as you watch the children playing with their father and you rock young Baelor against your chest, Aegon tells you the plans of his coronation.

Alysanne and Little Egg are almost fighting over who climbs faster in his father’s shoulders and when he turns at them with that smile you love and says:

“Hey. What did I say?”

“One at time”, grumbles Little Egg. “But I am the heir, therefore…”

“Heir you are, but you must not forget your manners, my son. Ladies first, or has chivalry died?”, and here you try to hide away your amusement.

“Fine. You go, sister.”

Alysanne puts out a tongue, but she too earns a reprehension of her father.

“Now, now, this is not the way, Lys.”

“Sorry”, she puts out a face that makes her irresistibly cute. Aegon chuckles and kisses her temple before putting her over his shoulders. “Weee! I’m flying!”

Aegon makes a noise that you suppose to emulate a dragon’s. The whole scene is adorable and gets your children’s attention. Soon he does the same to everyone—but Baelor, who’s asleep.

“Very well. Your father is tired, he’s done for the night. It’s late and you should be put in bed.”

“Papa”, says Jaehaera, putting his sleeve.

“Yes, daughter?”

“Can you tell us a story before we go to bed?”

“Yes!”, Alysanne runs to her sister’s side and the boys too, despite them pretending to lack interest, which amuses you.

“It’s your day, honey”, you tell him in between giggles. “I’m already occupied here.”

Aegon rolls his eyes as if he doesn’t want this arduous task. However, he makes sure to get the four children to put in your bed before getting to such a mission.

First, he gets Alysanne and Little Egg under blankets before putting the twins on his knees. Second… he makes sure to get their attention.

“Now listen up. Do you want to hear a story about a dragon princess who saved her dragon prince?”

“Hear! Hear!”, Little Egg cries out. “Ladies and gentlemen, no bard nor storyteller can match our dad!”

Aegon blushes.

“Why thank you for the praise, son. So I guess this is a yes?”

“Of course! There is romance too so we are all very pleased”, says a very romantic Alysanne.

You watch as your husband is set loose to your children. He likes the attention, but more so… he likes being their father.

If we were peasants, we’d be a merrier family.

Sweeping away these melancholic thoughts that make reference to an inevitable upcoming war, you focus on how happy he looks when the burden of wearing a crown is not smashing over him.

How loved he is when surrounded by these innocent toddlers who want to please him—and Aegon is eager to please them too.

You are teary at the scene. Alysanne is watching attentively as her father tells in his own your love story behind a great deal of creativity and fantasy, which makes you chuckle quietly. Jaehaera and her twin brother are not too far behind. These youngsters who like to make your quarters a mess are unusually quiet, captivated by their father’s voice, eyeing him with the most genuine devotion of a children.

Eventually though as the story comes to an end, they are all snoring.

“Well, my king. Our bed is full”, you laugh quietly as you put asleep Baelor carefully in his cradle.

Aegon smiles, moving to where you are and putting you against his arms.

“Thank you for giving me these beautiful children. I cannot believe I am this blessed.”

“How could it be otherwise? Oh Aegon, I love you.”

You spot some tears forming behind his eyes. He clears his throat, still uncomfortable with his own sentiments. Nevertheless he says:

“And I love you, my preciosity. You are my moon and stars.”

“And you are my sun and universe.”

This evening ends well. And you kiss him in turn.

*

But even sun sets in paradise. You are outdoors with Helaena, two maids and your children when Aemond comes in.

By the looks on his face nothing good is coming. You prepare for the bad news.

“What is it?”

Aemond cannot look at you, but it’s Helaena, who runs to his encounter, who casts a look at you and says:

“War has found its home. We best be prepared to fight it.”

Like a premonition, heavy rain starts to fall. You touch your hip, feeling that dagger you keep hidden underneath your silk gown.

“Well… Let war come. It will end with fire and blood”, you whisper to yourself before going back inside with the toddlers.

***

• A Dragon for A Dragon: The Cause Must Be Avenged.

You are by your husband’s side when the crown is put atop his head and Aegon raises his sword, applauded under the cheerful voices of “Long May Live King Aegon!”

It’s at you he looks for when his smug smirk curls on his lips. You nod approvingly, pride sparkling in your eyes.

Later that day, when council is opened, you are with the children when your husband summoned you. To a general surprise, Aegon wants his wife to be present at his council.

“My lady Y/N is as competent as my brother, Aemond”, he nods at his one-eyed sibling, who gives you a quick, indecipherable gaze. “That is my decision.”

“It is as it is”, says Otto in a dismissive tone. “We need to ponder what to do to counter Rhaenyra’s actions. She’s not inclined to peace.”

“We ought to do what it takes to preserve my crown”, muses Aegon. “Who are our allies?”

Someone starts to list them. You watch Aegon’s reaction, furrowing his eyebrows as he ponders what to do with the information.

“If I may speak”, says Aemond after some babbling dies. “I suggest we take Harrenhal. It’s my understanding the Blacks are heading its way there.”

“We use our dragons before they do. But if they are armed…”, you muse in almost in an inaudible suggestion.

Aegon shoots you a glance.

“Don’t.”

You sigh heavily, but don’t argue.

“I can go.”

“But we need Vhagar”, says Aegon. “Perhaps we can do without a dragon.”

“That is impossible. We are talking about a war of dragons, Your Grace”, says Otto, somewhat impossible. “We must preserve the dragons until we cannot. There’s no need to be in such a hurry. We will come out with a defense tactic.”

“Who’s the one intending to claim Harrenhal?”, you ask suddenly.

Ser Otto gives you a quizzical look, but it’s Aemond who answers you.

“Our uncle, Daemon Targaryen.”

“He’s the right hand of Rhaenyra”, you think out loud, not minding to call her a sister when Helaena does this role a lot better. “What about the other’s?”

“You are not considering getting into this fight, are you?”, to your surprise its Queen Alicent who voices out a general preoccupation.

“Visenya did so, my mother. Whilst I perform my duties accordingly, I shall stand for my husband’s right to wear his crown”, you flash him a smile and are pleased to see him regaining confidence.

“Your loyalty is touching, dear”, says Otto genuinely caring, for you and Helaena are his favourite grandchildren. “However, what military expertise do you have?”

“I am a great dragon rider and I could use this well”, you don’t find prudent to share that you’ve been taking sword lessons for a while. And by the looks Aegon gives you, you know he knows. “I could beat Baela, though.”

“This isn’t about vengeance. It’s about war.”

“War is founded upon vengeance, grandsire”, you speak gently. “Let it be said. A dragon for a dragon, my Aegon shall be avenged.”

That said you recline back to your chair, pleased to leave everyone in the room astonished with this side of yours few—except Aegon, Aemond and Helaena— are familiar with.

*

“You must stay for the children”, says Aegon. He’s walking from one side to the other, in evident display of nervousness.

It’s just the two of you in the council room this afternoon.

“I cannot handle the possibility of…”

He leaves his fears unspoken and it’s when you walk to where he is and holds his face with your hands.

“We are in this together, whether you like it or not. Your birth right will not be stolen from you. As our children’s…”, you smile at him, fondly. “We will wage this war, but with no need to be cruel.”

Aegon rests his forehead against yours, nodding in an agreement. It’s when he pursuits your lips and you let him lead the way. Suddenly, the kiss evolves and you are gladly lying against the table as he moves over you.

Every issue is kept drowned when the needs of flesh overcomes each. Aegon needs you as much as he needs you. Here comes that boy, starving for affection, that you know.

You gasp as his callous hands run over your thighs, lifting the skirts of your gown as his lips brush against your neck, biting your neck, leaving traces of bruises.

“Aegon”, you moan out his name in response of his eager fingers digging to your core. “Oh Gods!”

His eyes look for yours and when finding yours, your hands hold his hair, pulling him over you.

“My husband”, you gasp, moving your hips against his skillful hands, and soon you take your seat at the edge of the table.

“No”, he groans against your ear when perceiving your intentions. “Just sing out to me…”

But you answer to none—despite gladly obeying him in all when it’s due—so you smirk rebelliously when your hand finds the path to his pants.

“Come here… Let’s do it together”, and you whisper in his ear. “Remember when you taught me?”

Aegon closes his eyes, already unbearably aroused by your words. You bite his earlobe, moaning softly as you speak unspeakable things, caressing his manhood until it pumps against your palm.

“Fuck”, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. “Fuck, Y/Nickname…”

“Yes, baby. Together. We are always together…”

And when he rises his eyes and bites your bottom lip… well, he replaces his hand with something else and it takes little time until you reach climax.

Together.

As it has always been.

“I love you”, you mumble in his ear.

“I love you”, he whispers back.

***

“A king cannot be so until he leads his soldiers”, says Aegon before the council.

To a general astonishment, this is Aegon announcing his preparations to war.

“A king delegates others of his trust for a good reason, Aegon”, your mother snaps at him. “Do not play the reckless…”

“I think it’s funny”, you muse out loud, attracting the council’s gaze—with particular notice to a smirking Aegon, aware of how subtle your temper works, and for which he’s grateful. “How so many of you planned to make the transition to this new reign in a peaceful form, and yet when it is more than clear that war is inevitable… you stop the king to do what’s must. War should have been prevented many moons ago, but this is not the time to live based on “what ifs”. If diplomacy is not the answer…”

You stand, and you swear you detect an approval smirk from Aemond himself.

“…then fire is.”

“May I suggest a fare point that could be turned to our advantage?”, and here Aemond speaks in turn.

“Well, it appears I speak to deaf ears”, grumbles Otto Hightower.

“Listen to Aemond, grandsire. We are not as impulsive as you judge”, you speak softly.

After a moment of silence, the Hand of the king reluctantly lets Aemond speak, of which your brother is thankful for. And you take your seat next to your mother.

What happens next, however, will test the stability of your husband’s cause.

*

“Baela has been spotted flying near Storm’s End”, you are glancing through the window when you hear Aemond’s whispering to his brother. “She’s sent there in order to bring Baratheons to Rhaenyra’s side.”

“And what do we know about their position?”, inquires Aegon.

As the two men speak, your eyes concentrate at what happens at the yard. Unaware of a grave event that is to mark their father’s reign, Little Egg and Alysanne are playing with Maekar and Rhaella in complete synchrony. You feel a fang of guilt for not spending time with them, but you convince yourself this will pass. After all, you cannot neglect the role of wife. When you told Aegon you’d do anything for him, you meant every word.

“Y/N”, Aegon comes at you, hands resting over your waist. He knows what afflicts you. “When I told you to stay, I’ve meant it.”

He turns you at him, sensing your tears as if he senses his own. You cannot repress all this stress that you’ve been going through. You simply… cannot. And he’s there to hold you, to pick your pieces up.

“You don’t have to be strong the entire time”, he whispers to you, cupping your cheeks and fighting away your fears. “Look at me. I demand it as your king.”

You chuckle lightly, but when you raise your gaze, you know you are the one exposed for the very first time. And Aegon appreciates it.

“This is often the reversed role, is it not? It’s usually me asking for comfort and not the other way around”, and here he wipes the tears off your eyes. “Your unending loyalty to me, regardless of my vices and countless flaws, is a very endearing gift. We have fragilities and they do not make us weak. It makes us… humans, I think. Not a word I think of often, but here’s a brilliant learning you’ve taught me.”

And he proceeds:

“I honestly did not wish our family ripped apart like that, more than aware knowing how a war between kin displeases the deities. But what else can I do? This is not about us, but about our children’s future. I want our five, and hopefully six, toddlers to grow strong and with a prospective future”, he smiles when he manages to get something out of your sadness. “I lament it mostly deep that I’ve brought such misfortune to our family. I wish it was otherwise, that you were proud of me…”

“I am proud of you”, you cut him. “Aegon, I could not look elsewhere and choose someone else to be espoused to. As much as I get along with Aemond, this isn’t the man I love. Who did I come up to this world with? You, Aegon Targaryen. I weep because I want to give you the peace you deserved. I witnessed all these wounds and…”

Aegon swallows his own tears, knowing today you are the one who needs comforts. He comes to realize that, being this stronghold for so long, you too had your own wounds, your own pieces to get.

Oh my darling, Y/N. We are their creatures, are we not?

“You are my sun and stars”, he mumbles. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself, Y/N. We are healing together, won’t we? This is us against the world, my lovely wife.”

Lifting your chin, he presses a soft kiss over your eyes and says:

“You gave me everything I was refused in these years. You gave me love when I had none, you restored me trust when I lacked in; you granted me happiness when I was unworthy it. You make my days a lot better.”

A pause comes where a comfortable silence hangs in between. You rest your forehead against his, breathing in his silence.

“If we came to this world together…”, you whisper secretively.

“…then it is only natural that we leave it together”, Aegon vows it with a smile on his lips.

The decision is done and the pact is made.

***

You see Aegon flying high with Sunfyre and a bad feeling consumes you. Aemond is there too, so he’s going to Vhagar when you stop him.

“Nay”, you tell him firmly. “Leave this to me.”

You are not wearing your court garments, but prepared to go to war. Underneath green and silk, with some adjustments, you are dressing hauberk with two sharp blades carefully guarded. Your long silver hair is tied in a perfectly braid.

“Today we don’t spot Alyssa”, says Otto, concerned about your bold attitude, narrowing his eyes as you mount Dreamfyre and fly high. “But Visenya Targaryen has come to us.”

A remark that would later echo through generations of poets.

*

What you and Aegon agreed was to inspire soldiers in order to go to local Y/C and there make it a stronghold to his cause. However, spies delivered news that Baela Targaryen is preparing to wage war… with her grandmother, Rhaenys.

Yet, who’s coming is Rhaenys’s red dragon, Meleys. Suddenly you are remembered of your daughter’s dreams and her fear in losing her father.

In order to try to prevent agony making a nest in your heart, in barely gritted teeth you command Dreamfyre to fly above skies—as high as possible without, however, missing Aegon’s position. After that, you promised yourself to fly to Baela’s encounter: there is an unknown bad blood that you find urgent to resolve at last.

In the meantime, though, this isn’t about you, but your king, your lover, your brother, father of your children. This isn’t about a crown, but the legacy of your family—misadjusted they may be, but it’s still the one you are part of.

Grey clouds begin to assemble, but Dreamfyre flies as if it’s in her natural environment. She knows your thoughts and sentiments, she’s prepared to fight even if for a while she hasn’t been part of any of the kind.

But she can fiery.

“Baby girl, be careful. Meleys can be…”

Your words die in your throat when you see fire coming from the old red dragon. Suddenly, Dreamfyre takes a deep dive and gives such a strong bite against Meleys, getting her off guard. Part of the flames may get to you, and you think you hear Aegon screaming your name—you’re fueled with adrenaline, and you cannot stop.

All you know is that, moved by your sentiments, Dreamfyre does drag Meleys down. And it only comes to an end when both rider and creature fall down.

An explosion is heard and felt. You are flying high, Dreamfyre’s sound coming as if echoing your silent mixed feelings. Now adrenaline comes to pass, you realize part of your arm is burnt—and it hurts like hell.

“Are you well, D?”, you ask your dragon, more concerned about her than to your own wounds, in spite of the unspeakable pain.

As if to nod that she is doing perfectly well, Dreamfyre turns her head. It’s when Aegon comes at you.

“My wife!”, and when you turn at him you spot concern in his eyes.

“I told you”, and suddenly weakness comes to shake your senses. “I’d do anything… anything… for…”

And why do words die in your mouth and everything is dark? You have no idea, but you swear that you hear Aegon yelling as your eyes close.

***

• The Aftermath.

In a twist of events, Aegon II refuses to leave your bed until you open your eyes. Nothing can take his mind off you, therefore all matters are placed for now in the hands of Otto Hightower.

Your children have momentarily been put under the care of their aunt Helaena, for so distressed is the king that he cannot fail his children now.

But gods be good and you recover your strength. To your surprise, Aegon is next to your side.

“How… What…”

“My beloved wife”, Aegon smiles warmly when seeing you well and safe, mostly important: alive. “My greatest defensor. Imprudent and reckless, but possessor of the sweetest heart I know.”

He kisses you carefully, as if he’s afraid of losing you.

“What happened? Did we win? How’s Dreamfyre?”

“Calm yourself, love. Rest”, says your husband in most affectionate tone, though firm. “Dreamfyre suffered little damaged in comparison to your broken and burnt right arm and neck. Good grief, woman. It was supposed to be me.”

“No”, you breathe out of relief. “Not you. Never.”

Carefully you lean to his side, not minding the slight pain given just by a slight move. You caress his face, seeing his concern, the fear of losing you… that you risked your life for him, something none has ever done for him…

“I love you”, he whispers like the needy boy he is. “Don’t leave me, Y/N.”

“I love you too, my king”, you brush your lips against his, fingers intertwining together. “We promised to leave this world the same we walked in here, didn’t we?”

Aegon half smiles at you.

Even though the battle is won, the war hasn’t ended yet.

*

With you regaining your strength, domestic life—where the king’s and yours are concerned—goes back to what it was before your accident.

“Papa, is mama well?”, Jaehaera asks him, eyes tearful.

She’s clinging onto him as he rocks her in his arm. This afternoon you are resting and he’s decided that he needs a break of governing for a moment as well.

Under his watchful gaze, Alysanne is working in her embroidery and Jaehaerys is playing toys with his eldest brother.

“She is resting, my love. But I assure you”, and here he pauses to kiss his daughter’s cheek, earning him a beam that breaks his inner walls, “that she is well. Your mama is as dragon as you.”

“I am a dragon because of her”, Jaehaera corrects him, which makes Aegon chuckle.

Oh aren’t you adorable? How could I father such a pure child? And how… how else does she love me so?

In order to avoid the depth of such thoughts, Aegon limits himself in kissing his daughter’s forehead. Then he drives his fatherly gaze to his offspring.

“What are you seeing there, Alys? Let me see.”

Alysanne is blushing before her father’s attention. Very pompously, she takes her embroidery work so he can take a look.

“Aunt Helaena has taught me how to use the needle properly. I was struggling with the smaller ones”, she admits somewhat shyly so. “So here’s a green dragon. I want to mark in my gown your coat of arms, papa.”

Aegon swallows before the sight of his daughter, whose eyes show an eagerness to please him—a feeling he knows so well, but unlike Alysanne’s case, he was never corresponded. Precisely why the king beams and says:

“I am very proud of your skills, Alys. I am unworthy of such an honor”, says he with a wide smile.

In this sacred moment with his daughters so close, Aegon doesn’t see you come by. You are leaning against the wall, pleased to find your family in complete harmony.

Your boys, getting along… Jaehaerys trying to impress a very serious Little Aegon in his building, earning an eventual smile of his older brother’s approval. All the whilst Jaehaera sleeps in her father’s lap and Jaehaera is blushing pleasantly at the praises she receives him.

It makes you think of your own scars. How many times you tried to please your father and all you got was dismissive waves, distant conversations and comparisons to Rhaenyra?

Containing a sigh, you know how all of this is nothing to what you have now, but it’s pointless to deny these scars. They make you who you are, as it’s Aegon’s case.

Both of you are everything your parents were not. When Aegon looks at you with a smile on his lips, you smile too because you know you succeeded at it.

**

Despite the gleeful scenarios, war is still going. You are barely recovered when there are news of Baela flying to take y/c, a very important spot for the cause she defends.

You are listening to the Green Council’s strategies when you find Aemond and Aegon’s gaze on you. You lower yourself, but you know why they are concerned about you.

When defending Aemond so many moons ago, it was Baela who hit you hard. Even though you managed to knock her down, your fury was such that left the boys open mouthed by then.

A grudge that you were never able to overcome. A wound that time didn’t heal.

But the opportunity comes just fine.

“I can patrol skies”, you announce casually.

“I forbid you, Y/N”, Aegon is the first to protest. “There is no need to…”

“Y/C stays close to King’s Landing”, you muse, trying to remain calm.

“She’s not daring to come nearby when Vhagar is here”, interferes Aemond.

Both of you exchange looks. You bite down your lips, saying no more. However… opportunity to fight for your husband is coming once more, and yet at what cost?

Days go by when it’s decided that Aemond shall take Harrenhal on behalf of the Crown. This comes after Rhaenyra suffers another blow: her son Jacaerys was defeated once for all in an encounter against Aegon himself.

“I’m proud of you”, you smile the brightest as you two parade at the capital. “A great victor, that you are!”

Aegon flushes at your compliments. This day you and him ride splendid horses before all, richly dressed in order to reinforce signs that the civil war is coming to an end.

“As I am”, he takes your hand to his lips, not minding the courtly rules where public display of affection is concerned. “My greatest defensor. I am nothing without you, Y/N.”

Despite taking pride in this acknowledgment, you play the humble.

“My king, this is untrue. I only do what I am asked of: to daily submit my will to yours, to provide you heirs, to pledge for the safety of our subjects during this rebellion”, you smile at him for, despite the embellishment of your words, you speak such with your heart.

“My queen, blessed by the divine with the utmost caring for this one who gives you word; your unending loyalty and wisdom beyond your years played a great part in the conduct of the affairs of this realm. Whether I wage wars, whether I bring peace to our subjects it is in you and in the beautiful children you provided me that I think of.”

In silence, when he squeezes your hand and nods at you, you know what he means. And as you smile timidly and play the humble queen, he knows what you speak too.

In your own ways, underneath this public exhibition, one tells the other:

I love you.

‘Tis enough to make the people rejoice and praise for the health of King Aegon the Wise and Good Queen Y/N of House Targaryen.

***

• Epilogue.

War had its costs. But it eventually came to an end. Upon its twilight, revenge bled two broken houses of one dynasty for the last time. Aegon met his sister, Rhaenyra, just after you defeated Baela at the Battle of Stormlands, which would later be sang by bards how ‘two damsels, misled by the ambitions of men, took their dragons to a deadly feast and thus they danced’ until ‘the lady Baena was stabbed in the heart by a very bold move of Queen Y/N’.

Some of superstitious folks believed to have seen in you the ghost of Queen Visenya.

You brought a victory to your cause, but got yourself a broken arm. Dreamfyre was hurt too, but not injured enough to impede her to fly with you over the lands of the Baratheons, who welcomed you.

In the meantime this happened, Daemon Targaryen was defeated and Aemond conquered it all. Daemon’s lover, the witch queen of the place, Alys Rivers, attempted to transfer her affections to his nephew—unsuccessfully so. It was rumored that he said the following words:

“Mine heart knoweth no lady that is not mine damsel, Helaena.”

What was her destiny after these words were professed? The chroniclers could not tell. She vanished and many attributed to Lord Aemond her death.

Whatever the truth, Lady Helaena and her offspring moved with Silverwing to meet her husband, ignoring his orders that she should not do so until he sent for her. Apparently she knew what the outcome was going to be.

As for the battle between Rhaenyra and her brother for the throne, Rhaenyra was defeated. However, it was you who interfered on behalf of the kingdom to impede her death.

An agreement was arranged: Rhaenyra, albeit reluctantly, renounced her rights to the throne and agreed to wed her sons to you and Aegon’s daughters, as well as to wed her daughters to your sons. Peace was finally sealed and she was left to live in Dragonstone.

Once reunited, in the present day this feud is now a page in history. You are enjoying better days, ruling behind the scenes as Aegon conducts the realm with a wit that surprised most.

“He is a good king”, you tell your mother in a day where, to a general surprise, Aegon brokered a peace treaty with the Dornish. “Why it surprises you goes beyond my comprehension.”

Today you are dressing a long green, silk gown with reinforces your curves; your silver locks are carefully braided under a hair net that reminds Alicent of the days the dowager queen used to wear it herself. Besides the ravishing look, you wear the jewels Aegon recently gifted you: a pair of emerald earrings and a gold necklace.

“He was hardly the most devoted to studies, is all”, so your mother tells you.

It is a curious contrast how, after many years, you and her found a way to overcome parental issues. But even now, you find difficult to accept some of the critics she at times weaves to her eldest boy.

“Please, it was only lack of proper encouragement”, you roll your eyes as a response.

“I see I cannot make a comment about my son when I’m with you. Let us change topics”, and here she smiles. “I heard you are carrying another child.”

“Well, what can I say? Aegon makes it difficult not to engage in marital affairs”, you giggle maliciously.

Upon which Queen Alicent scoffs, feigning offense.

“To hear these words from the Good Queen Y/N?!”

“Why, I am not complaining. Pretty much otherwise.”

In between chuckles, you move to the gardens where the dowager queen finds all her grandchildren playing together.

Aemond, recently acknowledged as Hand of the King, is talking to Aegon, probably something about the affairs of the realm—judging by their serious countenance. But the one eyed prince is also attentive to his wife, Helaena, who’s teaching the now ten year old Alysanne to improve the girl’s skills, joined by their daughter Rhaella, same age as her cousin. As well as how Maekar and Little Egg—as Aegon’s heir will be always known—are talking nonsenses of their age.

The little ones are not too far behind. Aegon is holding three year old Baelor as he talks to his brother, but is in a position where he can watch over the young toddlers. It does not go unnoticed by all how Jaehaera tries to be friends with another Aegon, Rhaenyra’s son, who was sent with Viserys to be educated at court. Aegon doesn’t look very pleased, but young Viserys is too busy playing with cousins Jaehaerys and Aerys.

When seeing you with their mother coming at the happy meeting, Aegon soon excuses himself to greet you.

“My mother”, he pays the due respects to Queen Alicent, and then doing the same to you. “My lovely wife.”

“Aegon my darling”, and here you pick the chubby baby out of his arms. “Baelor, did you miss mama? Or were you too spoiled by daddy?”

Aegon gives you a smug grin.

“Well, isn’t this why I’m their father in the first place?”

“Not to overindulge, my love.” But not even you believe in what you are saying.

Soon, Helaena and Aemond join the three of you.

“Together at last”, and not to a general surprise Helaena greets you with a warm smile and her own way in showing her affection to you.

“Greetings to you too, my dearest. I was having a moment with our mother. She has some news to share”, you flash the dowager queen a mischievous smirk, pleased to find her blushing.

“Oh…”

“Shh, don’t ruin the surprise.”

To which Aemond confides a whisper to Aegon:

“As if it’s a surprise to know what she’s yet to tell.”

“It did take more years than we’ve judged”, the elder of the two agrees, struggling to muffle a chuckle.

“Well, I was worried… due to the recent events that concerned us all, that…” the Queen doesn’t really know how to put it.

But Helaena makes it easy for all of you.

“If you are happy, then we are happy for you.”

“You deserve it, mother”, you echo your sister’s support.

“But I…”

“Do not protest. We’ve always seen Ser Criston as the father we didn’t have”, says Aegon.

“He did indeed raise us, though”, so Aemond points the obvious.

“I appreciate your support. Then I think we should invite Ser Criston to join us.”

“Later, perhaps”, says Aegon, mirroring that old mischievous spirit that characterized his youth. “I need a moment with my wife and my children if you excuse me.”

“Oh yes, the family man”, teases Aemond discreetly before getting a punch in his arm.

This afternoon, all parts well and in restored peace as it should have been the way it started long time ago.

***

Aegon has just flew with Sunfyre and Little Egg with his own dragon. It’s a good time to do so and represents a unique moment between father and son.

When looking at this growing boy, who’s about to rise to Prince of Dragonstone in due time, Aegon struggles to see he’s no longer that toddler easily impressed with Sunfyre and his first time flying high.

“You are looking at me in a funny way”, says his son as they land and go back to their quarters. “Do you have news to share? Or is it the way I conduct…?”

“No, no. Not at all”, and here he pulls Egg under his arm, ruffling his hair and pleased to get him some chuckles. “I was just noticing that you are growing to a fine man and I am not ready to let that go yet.”

“You sound like mom”, and so typically he pulls a grimace.

“Your mother loves you as much as I do. One day you’ll have children of your own and you’ll see what I mean. As for news, did I tell you that your grandmother secretly remarried and believed no one would suspect she did so?”

The fourteen year old boy laughed loud. A sound that somehow is almost equal to his. Aemond smiles.

“No! I cannot believe my ears! Was she espoused by Ser Criston? But that man…”

“Shush. He’s your grandsire now.”

But the idea brings the two to joint laughters.

*

Aegon is all smiles when he’s with his girls too. After spending a while hearing Jaehaerys’s proudly progress in his studies, a deed that does impress him, he’s doting on his princesses too. You are already pompously dressed for the dinner when you find your husband hearing Jaehaera’s recent claimant in her dragon which she named Moonfyre because of the curious mix of silver and red scales.

A deed that did impress her elder sister and father.

“I know we have a great bond”, says the seven year old excitedly. “But…”

“But you are likely the youngest of our dynasty to have ridden a dragon! And all by yourself!”, and here Aegon cannot help himself and fuss over Jaehaera, who blushes pleasantly. “My little girl is getting me some headache in the future, I can already foresee it!”

“Well, she has so much of her father to be blamed on it”, you smile at him.

What a scene. Aegon joins you, not the king circumstances made him, but the grown man you loved since you could remember. When he tangles you in his arms and doesn’t mind being affective to you—“uuuuuugh” would tease the boys and even Jaehaera makes a grimace—, you know those wounds took time to heal.

Love prevailed over all.

As you’ve always believed it.

*

King Aegon II and his Good Queen Y/N of House Targaryen were found dead in an embrace that would be turned into marble. Theirs is one of the longest reign, despite the early years of civil war.

Aegon II is succeeded to his eldest son, Aegon III, married to Rhaena Targaryen, daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. Aegon’s Hand was his long time loyal cousin, Maekar, who wedded his sister Rhaella.

No more turmoils to be seen… for a long while. Dragons did die, as foreseen by Alysanne, who became Princess of Dorne in due time, but they also survived and prospered.

[postmortemnivis]

could be read as a part two of this post

“when i met you,” price started, “you were a mess of a man.”

simon grunted in response, his arms crossed over his chest almost as if he wanted to protect, shield himself from price’s words. each cut deeper than knives, aiming straight for the strong walls he’d built around his heart, the ones that only you had been able to tear down.

a mess of a man. he knew it, he didn’t need to hear about it too.

“at first, i honestly didn’t think you were going to ever become someone.” the older man admitted.

johnny’s laughter could be heard from the living room, where he and kyle were chatting about god knows what, probably the last poor girl johnny shagged in a bathroom stall at a pub the previous night.

“you didn’t?”

price shook his head. “as i said, a mess of a man, simon.”

a mess of a man. simon knew himself, he knew he was no saint, no good: he was a murdered, the angel of death that could be seen in the middle of the field, his dark glow foretelling the end of anyone who found himself in the middle of his bloody path. his hands were stained with the blood of many, the same hands he refused to touch you with; the only thing that kept him sane was knowing he wasn’t ghost, ghost’s crimes were shielded from simon by his black gloves and balaclava.

simon looked at price as his hand rested on his shoulder. he remembered what it felt to be neglected by his own father, and price knew it. price always seemed to know everything about his boys, he could see right through him. what simon needed was guidance, and price would’ve given it to him.

“nothing to be ashamed of,” he continued, “most of you boys are, you seek for something more. think of johnny, he enlisted when he was sixteen. you enlisted the day of your eighteenth birthday. we all know that if you’re a responsible man you don’t run to the army. we’re all crazy, messed up men.”

price also knew they were reckless, a suicidal loyalty bound to him. after all, their job attracted the beasts, the outcasts, the sadists, the worst of society.

simon rolled his eyes when price referred to them as boys. the man was less than ten years younger than simon, but he still felt the paternal pressure and instinct to protect the boys. his boys.

“wha’ made you change your mind?”

price motioned simon to move further into the kitchen, away from the people that were invited to his house.

“her.”

your voice echoed as you walked out of the bathroom, letting johnny finally hold his little niece. gary was walking behind you with the brightest smile on his face. gaz made a comment about how the three weeks old baby looked just like you, with simon’s dark eyes and pale blonde hair. if only he knew you helped simon dye it every month and a half, him sat on the edge of the bathtub and you standing between his thighs, his hands firm on your waist as he—for once—looked up at you instead the other way round.

you agreed with a chuckle, looking around for simon.

“look a’ the lassie, she’s already an uncles gal!” johnny’s laughter filled the flat. from the corner of his eyes, simon could see the person he’d grown to call his brother hold his newborn daughter.

“her?” he looked at you, the softest and most subtle smile crawling on his scarred face. simon struggled to hold back his smirk.

price nodded. “i remember we all could tell that you met someone. you’d become less… rigid. you’d smile more, were more clement with the recruits.”

“she changed me.” simon shrugged, attempting to hide the smile that would try to crawl on his face anytime he’d think about you. even after years, between a marriage and now a child, his eyes would light up at your thought alone. that’s the impact, the effect you had on him.

“that’s good, simon.” price spoke. “we’re all happy you’re doing better. we remember how you used to-”

“okay, got the message.” simon interrupted him. “loud an’ clear, john.”

his life before you seemed so distant and he almost couldn’t remember of a time where you weren’t by his side yet. like a far away dream, closer to a nightmare than a dream, but still something that didn’t look like the life he was living now. he didn’t need to remember a bit of it, what was the use? he had you now, everything before the day you met didn’t matter anymore, it didn’t exist anymore.

price sighed, looking to the ceiling as he tried to find something in his pocket. “coming outside for a smoke?”

simon shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “nah, capt. quit a while ago.”

it’d been months since you’d showed him the pregnancy test that shook his whole world. he’d fallen to his knees in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by worried recruits, johnny immediately sprinting close enough to check whether his lieutenant was okay but far enough to give you two privacy.

“promise me ‘m not dreamin’.” he murmured, pulling you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, hiding his face in your chest.

you brushed his short blond hair back, biting your lip as you smiled. you could feel your eyes tingling, tears threatening to spill at any given minute. “you’re not, si. we’re gonna be parents.”

you chuckled, leaning down to kiss his head and felt your white work shirt getting wet by his tears. you looked around at the faces of the confused recruits, and you smiled, because you knew you were the only person who’d ever truly know how the scary lieutenant, the ghost, really was.

“we are.” he whispered before kissing your still flat stomach, getting back up and giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “thank you.”

in the nine months he’d been taking care of you like a person on their deathbed—really not necessary, si, i can still do the dishes by myself—he’d stopped smoking, and treated himself to just one beer every first sunday of the month.

he had worked on himself, hard.

for you and for your daughter. he wanted to be a better person, a good man. he wanted to be nothing like his father, that having haunted and scared him for so long and being the main reason he always tried to postpone having children, what truly held him back,, but he tried to be a better man.

that was what distinguished him from his father, he tried to be better.

leaving the military was sure next, after fixing the downstairs bathroom faucet and oil the doorknob of the closet. he wondered how the boys would take it, but in the end he didn’t really care, he knew they’d understand.

“quit.” price repeated, eyebrows raised as he put his lighter back in pocket. he wasn’t a social smoker, but knew better than to smoke near a baby, even if he would’ve excused himself to the balcony.

simon smiled as he heard you scold johnny for throwing the little girl in the air. “what if you drop her?”

“ah wid never, lass.” he reassured you, laughing at the slap he got on his scruff.

“you’re a good man, simon.” prices hand found its way on simon’s shoulder again. “you went through a lot, but you’re still fighting for a good cause, you didn’t let it change you. that’s what makes you a good man.”

simon was about to deny, say he wasn’t, he was the worst man there was, but then you walked into the kitchen, all smiles.

“hey si.” you smiled. “baby’s hungry.”

simon immediately stretched out his arms to hold the baby, a bottle already in his hands as soon as those words left your plush lips, your lashes batting up at him.

you wrapped your arms around one of his strong biceps and smiled up at him and then at price.

“cute, isn’t she?”

“is indeed.” john nodded, smiling under his thick moustache.

before he decided to leave the kitchen to leave you three some privacy and join the boys in the living room, where johnny had apparently put on a rugby match—“scotland-wales, for fucks sake, lad!”—he shot simon one final knowing glance.

simon returned the look, your eyes too focused on the little girl in her charcoal grey onesies to notice.

“you okay, si?” you whispered, but your husband's eyes were unfocused, staring off into space as price’s words kept replaying in his head like a broken record.

he nodded, kissing your forehead almost instinctively. “yes, love.”

you smiled up at him and then at your daughter, simon’s mind travelling an hundred miles an hour, waiting to crash on itself and get brought back to reality. price’s words echoed in the background of his brain, quieter each second that passed.

a good man.

tagging who asked:

@mr-sol @v1x3n @m4dyy @softangelheart @redzluvvesage @nittoka

[dee-the-red-witch]

SPOOKY SEASON PINNED

Because who knows if I'll have time to update this thing in October.

Hi. I'm Denice. Normally there'd be a big spiel about how I'm a 40-something year old trans lesbian who does a fuck of a lot of stuff. Or the books I have coming out later this year. Or the leather, tattoos, etc. That said, this isn't the time, because I'm stuck in the middle of what I'm calling

OPERATION GTFO

I'm getting my ass out of a relationship and household that went from tense and neglectful over the last ten years to toxic and abusive in the last two. And I need help doing it. And it's all on a freaking doomsday clock because the lease here ends at the end of this month, and so help me, I'm not signing another under these conditions. And of course, to make things more complicated, I have my gcs and ffs surgeries coming up at the end of november. So I have to have all this settled by then. Real Final Girl Transition moments here, and so help me, if I have to, I'm crawling out of the house by the end. So, yeah, needing help. I need to get an apartment, probably secure it by prepaying a few month's extra rent (because my credit got fucked with my legal transition and my rental history got fucked by my ex) , and get my hands on shit like basic furniture, because right now if I moved tomorrow, I'd be sleeping on a couple of floor blankets in the new place. All of which means money and a lot of it. I know I posted about this earlier, but, well, new month. Right now, I'm at about 550 of what needs to be 5-8 thousand. And seriously anything helps here. You can donate at http://paypal.me/tormentedartifacts

Or if you want to get something awesome in return (THAT WILL LIKELY NOT BE SHIPPING UNTIL AFTER JANUARY), there's http://tormentedartifacts.com

If you want to just donate on the gender surgery side of things, there's also my gfm: https://www.gofundme.com/f/dees-gender-confirmation-surgery-fund

But if you can donate anything on any end of this, even if it's just a few bucks, it helps a lot. It gets me thorough this. It gets me to a place where I can heal from all this. Where I won't be needing help so freaking much. I just need to get out, first.

And reblogging and sharing this everywhere you can ALSO helps a ton, so please, do that too.

[sashaisready]

Since You've Been Gone: Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Masterlist

After a regrettable first meeting in the cemetery, you discover that you have something in common with a certain member of the Avengers. Unfortunately, you can't choose your neighbours, even in death.

(Setting is approx. post TFATWS)

Hi, I'm back! I have no idea where this came from, or where it's going! So apologies as updates may not be consistent while I figure it out. Warnings for death of parents, grief, mentions of cemetery/graves - please tread carefully if these are triggers for you.

🍂

It was a chilly Autumn day, but not unbearable. Your coat could more than handle the frigid breeze. You squinted at the headstone as you crouched on your knees, angling your head to make sure you hadn’t left any streaks or marks from the polish. Satisfied with your performance, you trimmed a few of the roses that were leaning against it before standing and taking a step back to admire your handiwork.

Immaculate as always, so neat you could almost be fooled into thinking you weren’t even outside. You could hear your parents’ voices in your head now, joking about being able to keep their graves far cleaner that you ever managed your bedroom to be, their frequent nags falling on deaf adolescent ears.

You smiled sadly as you looked at the intricately engraved text below their names on the shared stone:

Beloved parents taken too soon,

Waiting in heaven to be reunited with their only daughter

You’d never really like that phrasing; it was a little too whimsical for your tastes – especially all these years later. But a recently orphaned teenager wasn’t exactly an expert in choosing the best headstone wording. You’d been more than happy to let your aunt and the funeral home lead the way, too paralysed by grief to make even the smallest decisions in the hellscape that was death admin.

Still, you’d never want to upset your aunt by getting it changed, there’s a lot of strange emotion tied up in grief even when time has passed, and that mourning teen has become an adult. And it wasn’t like new headstones were cheap anyway…

As you packed up your cleaning kit your attention was drawn to the two graves next to your parents’ - George and Winnifred Barnes. They had both passed several decades earlier, long before your parents were buried next to them. They had died only a few months apart according to the text…maybe they’d couldn’t survive without each other.

It was easy to infer that they no longer had anyone left earthside. The graves had been long untouched, unkempt, and overgrown, the inscriptions getting harder to read – and you’d never seen any evidence of a visitor in all your time coming here. Except of course when the cemetery staff did one of their occasional mass clean-ups of the neglected graves.

About a year ago, you’d started tending to them alongside your parents. You weren’t sure why, it just seemed like the right thing to do. They were neighbours after all. And you’d want someone to do the same for your mum and dad if you weren’t around.

You’d cleaned their stones, wiped away the grime and given them a decent polish. You’d trimmed back the weeds and laid fresh flowers. The first time took a while, but after you’d got them to a reasonable standard it was all pretty easy to maintain.

You’d often wondered who they were. What they were like. The dates suggested they’d died of old age, a luxury your parents didn’t have. Were they kind? Funny? What hobbies did they have? They were around during the war, that must’ve been tough. You knew from the inscriptions that they had children who would’ve been over hundred by now. Maybe no grandchildren which is why nobody came by to see them anymore. It made you feel sad, how we could all be just a few generations away from being forgotten entirely. At least you could try to remember them.

You gave their graves a quick once over, took away the dead flowers and added some fresh roses in their place.

“Well, I’m done,” you said aloud, “see you soon, mum and dad. And you too, George and Winnifred. Sleep well”.

You sighed, walking back to your car and back to your life. You knew all too well that the dead may be still, but the world continues around them.

🍂

A week later you were back at the cemetery with your cleaning kit slung over your back, your arms full of fresh flowers.

“Afternoon, mum and dad,” you said as you placed your kit and flowers down and pulled out the foam pad that you used to kneel on, “and you, George and Winnifred”.

“Work has been kicking my ass this week,” you sighed as you got to work on your parents’ stone. “There’s only so much I can take of Brock’s moaning about the numbers…it’s getting harder not to smash my keyboard over his head – yeah I know, violence isn’t the answer, blah-blah-blah…”

You worked diligently, chatting away as you went through your maintenance tasks. It was nice, talking to them like this. You could say anything, really. No judgements, no admonishment, just silent acceptance of everything you told them. It was a bit like therapy for you. You often imagined your parents were sitting behind you as you spoke, just out of sight.

You liked to use old newspaper to buff up the marble. As you gathered your things together, you glanced at some of the headlines from the copy you’d brought with you. Lots of dreary grimness unfortunately. There was also a longread feature on the Avengers and where they were now, their photographs lined up across the top of the page. It was sad that a few of them were dead now, or at least no longer here. You felt a pang of sadness for their loved ones – you knew what that was like.

You didn’t know all the details of The Avengers and their associates, but like everyone else you knew the basics. It was a strange time, just a decade or so ago nobody had ever thought superheroes really existed…but then all of these ‘enhanced’ people started crawling out of the woodwork, revealing weapons and technology that previously had only existed in sci-fi movies. It was hard to believe, really.

You scanned the newspaper page, looking at the pictures for a few moments. You took your time studying their faces before sighing and placing it back down.

“All done…now let’s help out George and Winnie over here, looks like you guys need some new flowers…and all that heavy rain we’ve been having has really done a number on your stones…let me just-”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the gruff voice behind you demanded, causing you such a shock that you nearly joined your parents.

You spun your body away from the graves, horrified to see a man looming over you as you stared at him open-mouthed in surprise. You hadn’t heard him approach, not quite understanding how you hadn’t noticed him coming at all…

“I said what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he repeated to you, his blue eyes alight with anger.

He was big. Bigger than you. Even under his coat you could see his broad shoulders. A mop of dark hair framed his face, most likely quite an attractive face when it wasn’t pulled into a furious sneer like it was now. He wore black gloves as he pointed at you accusingly. The fact that you were kneeling on the ground while he stood towering at his full height had not gone unnoticed by you.

There was something strangely familiar about him, but you couldn’t place it. Did he shop at the same market as you? You couldn’t quite…

“I’m…I’m just-” you spluttered as you fumbled for the words, still caught in your surprise and the fact that this normally serene time had been interrupted by a stranger yelling at you…

“Get away from there!” he snarled.

You quickly realised he was talking about the Barnes’ graves. You bounced backwards, landing painfully on your ass in your desperation to do what he said. He had a chilling air of authority that you didn’t want to screw with. You weren’t trying to piss off an angry man while you were out here all alone…

“I was just tidying them up,” you managed weakly as you sat up and clutched at the flowers.

“Nobody asked you to,” he scoffed in response as he leaned over and ran a gloved finger over Winnifred’s inscription, “you shouldn’t be clambering all over graves of people you don’t know”.

You frowned as the initial shock of the encounter wore off, now annoyed now at his abrupt rudeness towards you when you only had good intentions.

“Oh, and you know them, do you?” you snapped back sharply as your felt your emotions surge and your eyes water, your cheeks hot with mortification, “well, nobody has been to visit those graves in years so-”

“Yeah, actually I do know them - I’m their son,” he spat furiously.

Your head bounced back in surprise and confusion. You curled your lip and frowned at his strange claim, he appeared to be his mid-to-late 30s at most – many years away from the very elderly man he’d need to be for that to be true.

What was his goal here, exactly?

Was this guy just looking to start an argument and decided you’d be his target? Spouting off nonsense about random graves just to mess with you?

And where did you know him from?

Despite your survival instincts, you couldn’t help but fight back. You didn’t appreciate being messed with at the best of times, let alone when you were only here to visit your deceased loved ones. Who came to a graveyard to fuck with people? And yell at them?!

“Huh? Son?” you scoffed with derision and jabbed a finger towards the inscriptions about their children, “well, that can’t be true as that would mean their kids would have to be over a hundred…and how many one-hundred-year-olds look like you…?”

“I’m 107 years old, actually,” he said venomously. He sounded utterly sincere despite the ludicrousness of his claim. His face was sullen, his eyes piercing.

You ignored the shudder that threatened to roll through you in response. It was a strangely familiar expression on his face.

Where had you seen that look?

“Oh, yeah! You’re 107…Sure!” you laughed sarcastically. “You just have the greatest plastic surgeon of all time, in fact there’s a bunch of centenarians wandering around looking thirt-”

You trailed off as a wave of recognition suddenly hit you and the penny dropped. Oh. Oh.

He wasn’t from the market…

It was him.

Your eyes panned down to the crumpled newspaper lying next to you. The same man’s face scrutinised you from the page, an exact mirror image of the brooding 3D version in front of you. A little older now, but still unmistakably the same man.

Oh!

Now you remembered that same picture on the news. Read about the terrible things he’d done before when he was under hypnosis. For the Nazis? The Soviets? Both? Flashes of recollection hit you at once, disjointed and scattered.

It wasn’t really him doing all of it, it was a mind control thing, they’d said. He was like the Captain…the first one from the 40s. Kept young…somehow. He had a robot arm. Then there was the big government pardon after he’d helped to save the world. The deep dive the New York Times had done on his assassin past. What had they said he was called? Iceman? Winter? Winter hitman?

The Winter Soldier.

Barton? Baines? No, Barnes.

Barnes.

As in…son of Winnifred and George?

Ah.

He must’ve seen your train of thought written all over your face as he nodded solemnly at you.

“Yeah. It’s me. And I only found their resting place a few weeks ago,” he said with disdain.

You got to your feet, taking a few cautious steps backwards. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You didn’t need to be a jerk - I’ve just been coming here for years, and I’d never seen…”

You trailed off, he didn’t care. His focus was on the graves, one gloved hand gripping the top of his father’s stone as he peered down at the grass below.

You turned to leave, giving him his privacy, “I’m sorry for your loss,” you mumbled quietly as you picked up your kit.

You started to head back to your car, then turned to face him again after a couple of steps. You warily moved back towards him and leaned over, placing a single flower between the feet of his parents’ graves. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t pick it up and throw it back in your face, either.

As you walked away, you thought you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

🍂

Another week passed and you were back at the cemetery once more, working the usual routine and doing your best to forget what had happened the last time you were here. Upsetting a war veteran slash Avengers superhero by accusing him of not being his parents’ child was impressively incompetent, even by your standards. But in your defence, he did just start yelling at you out of nowhere. And you were only trying to help. And he was a literal defiance of nature, time, and aging…

But then again, people weren’t always their best selves in a cemetery. It wasn’t exactly Happy Hour over here. And you’d probably freak out too if you caught a stranger tinkering around with the resting place of your parents. The parents who died of old age while you were cryogenically frozen and a prisoner in your own body…

You’d done a little more reading up on him, James Buchanan Barnes. ‘Bucky’. The man behind the scary winter soldier mask. The older images of him in his combat gear were chilling, as were the alleged stats of his kills, but mainly you just felt immense empathy for a man out of time. A man who had lost his youth, a limb, his autonomy, and everybody he once knew from his old life.

You tried to put it out of your mind, catching your parents up on what they’d missed and pretty-ing things up a little around their plot. You didn’t touch the Barnes’ this time, just gave them a little wave and concentrated on your own flesh and blood.

You were a million miles away, lost in the quiet fog that often seemed to overtake you when you were working in the cemetery. It was peaceful, really. This was the one place you could switch your brain off and quiet the chatter of your head, just concentrate on the tasks you knew so well by now that your hands did them on muscle memory alone.

You were just adjusting the newest flowers when a voice interrupted you.

“Hey,” it said.

It startled you as you were still in your own world and hadn’t heard anyone else approach. You whirled around slightly panicked as a pair of eyes the colour of sapphires met yours.

It was him again.

“Oh, hello,” you replied quietly.

He stared over at you, wrapped up in his coat as he was last time. His stare was still intense despite appearing much calmer than when you first met him. He wore black pants and boots, his hands tucked away into his pockets, a dark backpack slung over his shoulder. His face was more relaxed than it was during your first encounter. His blue eyes were just as arresting, but the absence of anger made them sparkle rather than burn. He had a soft dusting of stubble across his taut jawline, his dark hair was pulled back behind his head as he absent-mindedly ran a hand over it. He was…

…hot?

Fuck.

He nodded at you in acknowledgement and moved to George and Winnifred’s plot, kneeling in front of their stones. He pulled a candle out from his backpack and lit it with a lighter, placing it between where his parents lay.

You turned away sharply, not wanting to look like you were intruding during what was clearly a private moment of mourning. You focused on your own parents’ graves, clipping back the flowers as quietly as possible.

The two of you continued doing your own thing, the awkwardness thick in the air. You remembered how furious he’d been with you last time. You considered saying something, trying to explain that you were only trying to maintain the graves, but you didn’t want to provide any more ammunition for potential anger. Instead, you continued your routine in silence, keeping your eyes down.

After you finished you packed up your stuff and cleared your throat, ‘uh, bye,” you said quietly to him as you hurried down the path and back towards your car. He didn’t respond, but looked up at you as you passed, studying you intently.

[mamirhodessxox]

Request for Cody 💜

Cody is on the road a lot and a workaholic, to the point he neglects his wife in a way. He misses date nights, family dinners and a birthday party to the point reader files for divorce. Cody then tries to get his family back. ( 3 year old son Silas , 9 month old daughter Brielle )

Before You Leave Me

Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader

Desc: Cody has seemed to be more focused in his work life than his own personal home life which leaves Y/N in a conflicted decision that he refuses to accept.

Contents: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of divorce, light false accusations of cheating , use of foul language, arguing, Happy endings :)

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts-deactivated2 @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @jeysbvck

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Being married to Cody was not easy, especially if you were head over heels for the man, You thought that if he settled down, had children, etc, he would be less of a workaholic but boy were you wrong. He was on the road 24/7 You & the kids barely got to see him, You both were parents of 2, a 3 year old son named Silas & your new 9 month old daughter Brielle, He missed out on a lot within MONTHS.

Cody was a man who brought food on the table, he was man of the house but because of his absence it was leaving your song with many questions such as “Why didn’t daddy come to my birthday party?” Or “Why wasn’t daddy here for Christmas?” These were questions you had no idea how to answer to the poor kid other than “Daddy was busy” which was a bullshit answer, He should never be too busy to miss out on his sons 2nd birthday but once the 3rd birthday hit you were sick of it and his false promises. This made you order divorce papers before the birthday as a just incase moment if he didn’t show up to his sons party within a few weeks.

2 weeks prior to Silas’ 3rd birthday you two had argued over work and by the end of that shit show he promised with his entire soul he would be there for his sons 3rd birthday, but ultimately he couldn’t make it because of his schedule. This was becoming a regular habit almost every year, Cody missed out on your guys’ dates, holidays, birthday’s & anniversary..but this was the final straw.

It was the day of your son’s birthday and you waited in the backyard watching your toddler run around with his friends while other parents attempted asking you on where your husband was. You held Brielle in your arms checking your phone every few hours but got no updates from Cody.

And then night time struck. You set Brielle in her crib and pranced into your son’s room to tuck him in bed “Mommy?” You heard the 3 year old chirp out as he sat criss crossed in his bed with a moping expression “Yes sweetheart?” Silas frowned when you got to his level “Where’s daddy? He promised.” Your heart broke in half as your son asked where his father’s presence was, you shrugged and frowned before kissing the top of his head “Daddy got caught up in work sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he huffed and turned to his side once you finished tucking him in you had snuck into the bedroom that used to be shared with you & cody, you kneeled down to the height of your bedside table taking out the papers you had waiting for this very moment & began signing away what you possibly could on your side of the divorce & proceeded to walk downstairs with them and set them down on the kitchen counter next to the pen you had used consenting to the divorce.

around 2:30 in the morning you heard the door open & close in a quiet manner followed by a heavy sigh & luggage being set onto the ground which made you sit up from the couch, Cody looked over towards your direction and smiled lightly before taking notice at the irritated look on your face “You missed his party.” He heard you speak up and stop in his tracks before you stood up “Sweetheart there was problems with the bu-“ “You said that for our anniversary, his 2nd birthday, Christmas, Halloween, the excuse is getting outdated Cody.” He frowned and your words knowing you were right, “Well I’m here no-“ you shook your head while walking past your husband and booking it to the kitchen “I’m tired of this Cody. I love you & you know I do hut it kills me when our son is walking around with a hurt heart whenever he sees another child with a present father, he asks me almost 12 times a day where his daddy is or why didn’t you come to his birthday party. Hell he even requested to have a cake dedicated to yo-“ “Y/N I work like hell to put food on the table and keep a roof under your head!” You widened your eyes and glared “Quite honestly Cody I’d rather fucking starve to death if it meant my son & daughter’s father was present in their life! I’m sick of having all of the neighborhood moms gossiping about our marriage & I’m sick of you not being here for your kids & wife!.”

Cody frowned and tried approaching you but looked down at the counters for a split second and saw papers “What the hell is this?” You shrugged before rummaging through the fridge before pulling out a bottle of wine & pouring the red liquid into a glass “Divorce papers Cody. This marriage clearly isn’t working and I’d rather put it to an end now before it gets worse. You’re 4 steps away from having an affair with another woman with how far away you’ve been from your family so I’d rather prevent you betraying our marriage. I’m mainly doing it for the kid-“ “Y/N I would never cheat on you what the hell are you talking about?!”

You frowned setting down the glass & leaned against the counter behind you with crossed arms “You were nearly late when I gave birth to Brielle, You didn’t show up last Christmas or the Christmas before, You didn’t show up to your sons 3rd and 2nd birthday all for a fucking job that involves you getting punched everyday for a check. You forgot about our anniversary, I didn’t want to do this Cody but this marriage isn’t working, If I stayed any longer nothing would change, I have tried like hell to get you to be here for our family but your too focused on a paycheck then us.” You didn’t notice a tear roll down your face until it dropped onto your arm. Cody frowned & approached your carefully and shook his head “I’m not accepting those damn papers sweetheart, You know I won’t, I’m not leaving you or this fam-“ “You already have, You missed out on Brielle crawling for the first time, You missed out on your son joining the little leagues soccer team and getting a score, You even missed out on be finding out I was pregnant with Brielle Cody. How am I supposed to believe you when you haven’t been here to prove me anything?”

He shook his head and stepped closer towards you and tangled his fingers within your hair and wiped off your face with his free hand “Let me make it right sweetness, let me prove you wrong, I’ll do anything in my power to prevent this from happening, I’ll take time off, I’ll quit anything you want just say the word but goddamnit your not leaving me.” He crouched onto his knees in front of you and kissed your legs gently and gripped at the summer dress he gifted you that was hugging your body in the right ways, You’d never seen Cody beg on his knees before, especially for you to stay with him “Cody I want nothing from you, I don’t want child support from thi-“ “Y/N your not fucking divorcing me, I won’t allow it to happen & if you think for a millisecond in that beautiful goddamn brain of yours that I will then you are extremely mistaken.”

Your fingers ran through his hair as he stared up at you before kissing your stomach down your thigh to your leg before holding your hand and kissing the ring he placed on your dainty finger when you both were wedded. “Cody I can’t keep doing this anymore, You keep making false promises that I know I can no longer believe.” He frowned and gripped at your hips slightly while he shook his head non stop “Y/N I will never ever miss out on another holiday, anniversary, or birthday, it breaks me knowing you expect me to betray our marriage I will do anything in my power to prevent you from leaving me even if it means I quit my job baby.”

You frowned and thought about his words before hesitantly nodding your head which made his stand on his feet and holding your face in the palms of his hands “I promise I will never miss another important day ever again angel.” He mumbled before pulling her into a gentle kiss “I love you..” You muttered against his mouth before pulling away “I-I’m really sorry for pulling the whole divorce thing..” he shook his head and pulled you into a large hug “Don’t apologize sweetheart, I understand your frustrations & more than that but you also know by now that You’re not leaving me that easily” you smiled sadly against his shoulder and pull away while he gently grabbed ahold of your hand and placed a kiss on your wedding ring “Why don’t you go and get some rest alright? I’ll take control of everything tomorrow & I’ll empty out my schedule, go get some sleep alright?”

You held onto his hand and nodded hesitantly before pull away making your way upstairs to the bedroom you two would share, Cody stood in the kitchen & sighed running his hand down his jaw & glared over at the divorce papers before snatching them off of the counter & ripping them to shreds before dumping the pieces of paper in the trash before he went upstairs moments later.

The next morning you woke up to his side of the bed quite cold and empty which made you frown “Cody?” You tried calling out but you soon heard the giggles of Silas souring throughout downstairs which immediately pulled you into relief before climbing out of bed & making your way downstairs & seeing Cody serving a birthday breakfast to Silas which brought a warm smile on your face before approaching him “Morning sweetheart.” He hummed out before pushing a mug filled with coffee towards you which you took into your hands “Morning love” you walked past Silas who was eating the pancakes Cody made him & pressed a kiss into his head before doing the same with Brielle who was in a high chair.

You sat on the couch and looked over towards the kitchen once more & smiled to yourself as Cody kept to his word on being more present for you & the kids, You were immediately happy with the fact he fought for you to not go through with the divorce & ultimately proved his promises too you.

mamirhodessxox’s Masterlist

[cursed-peanut]

A/N: Hello everyone! My name is Peanut and this is my first post on this account! I’ve posted online before but it’s been a few years since then so I might not be the best 😭 Please forgive me. For my first post, I decided to write some yummy angst 😋 I hope you enjoy and consider following me if you enjoyed this.

— Peanut <33

————————————

I hate you, Toji Fushiguro || Toji Fushiguro x Reader & Megumi Fushiguro + Reader Drabble

Summary: You are the only stable and constant parental figure Megumi has ever had and he hates that his deadbeat dad has you rapped around his finger despite Toji clearly showing he only wants you late at night for the sake of his own pleasure.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: ANGST, unrequited love, absent parents, swearing, GN! Reader, hints at spoilers for season 2 JJK??, not proofread, possible spelling and mistakes, lmk if I missed anything.

————————————

Megumi doesn’t know his mother, he was never given the chance to meet her. But he’s okay with that because you fill her absent role.

You were originally just someone Toji used to hookup with every now and then, so naturally you had bumped into Megumi a few times. You were kind and caring every time, however these moments weren’t what made you replace her role.

No, that came much later when you found out Toji would sometimes leave Megumi and his sister Tsumiki alone months on end.

You couldn’t sit by and watch that, so you stepped in and stayed at the Fushiguro’s flat and took care of them. Looked after them. You were more than a parental figure to him, you were his parent. Fuck Toji and his absent ass, at least his mother had the excuse of being dead. Toji however just seemingly up and left one day.

Sure, maybe he comes home every so often, but it’s never for long and he’s only either arguing with you or he’s staring at you intensely, his eyes full of lust. Then on the contrary, there’s you. You are always there. A stable and constant figure in his life other than his sister.

Now it’s common knowledge that Megumi is very mature for his age, so while it shouldn’t shock you, it comes as a surprise when one day he tells you;

“Stop hoping dad will fall for you. We both know he’s not going to. He’s too stuck in his own mind to be able to love someone else.”

You swallow thickly. What is up with this six year old? How long has Toji neglected him for him to mature this quickly? You stop preparing dinner and move over to the young boy, crouching to his level and placing your hands on both of his shoulders, offering a warm smile.

“Don’t worry about it ‘gumi-chan. Even if your dad doesn’t love me back, that’s never going to stop me from caring for you and Tsumiki, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Megumi is relieved to hear this, but he’s still worried about you. You’re hurting yourself by hoping Toji cares to one day love you.

“I…Okay.”

And that was the end of that conversation…until it wasn’t.

Later that year, a strange white haired man with black sunglasses came to their flat telling him he came to take him in. Before he could reject this weird man, you came out of the flat asking who he was. Turns out he’s called Gojo Satoru and he came with news about Toji.

At this you immediately invited him in, offering him something to drink, he says a glass of water will do fine. Once you give him his glass, he tells you Megumi should probably not be here for this conversation.

After Megumi’s allowed back into the main living space, he knows something has happened to Toji. Your head is hung low and your cheeks are damp with red eyes, clearly you’ve been crying. You wipe your face and beckon him over.

“Megumi, come here.”

He walks over to your place at the kitchen table and takes the seat next to you.

“This kind man here has an offer for us. We can either stay here and in two years time we join the Zen’in Clan, or we go with this man and live with him. You will need to train to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer once you’re older if we decide to go with him, so I thought I’d ask you-“

“If we stay here and join the Zen’in Clan, will you and Tsumiki be happy? They’re wealthy, right? We’d be okay financially-“

“I’m sorry to interrupt, however,”

You and Megumi turn to Gojo.

“If you want your sister and mentor to be happy, I can guarantee you they will be far from it if you join the Zen’in Clan. Trust me.”

“…well then, let’s go with him if he’s our best option.”

You smile at him and side hug him, placing a soft kiss on the crown of his head.

“Alright. Explain to Tsumiki and pack your things. I’ll come help you and Tsumiki in a second.”

Megumi slips out of his chair to head back to his room. Once you hear the soft click of Megumi’s door, your face drops as you place your face in your hands. You laugh bittersweetly.

“He really knows how to fuck things over, huh?… Did he really not say anything about me to you?”

“I’m sorry Mx. L/N, not a peep. If I knew you were in the picture, I would’ve knocked instead of talking to him directly first.”

You quietly hum to your self, whispering:

“Who would’ve thought I should’ve taken the advice of a six year old?”

The little six year old in question is on the other side of his bedroom door, listening to the conversation through the thin wood. So he was right, something did happen to Toji. He had warned you to let go of Toji. He knew one day Toji would hurt you one final time. Leaving you completely broken. Despite knowing this, he was seething inside and out. No one should make you feel like this. Especially not his sorry excuse of a father who only gave you the time of day when he wanted some pleasure.

He hates Toji Fushiguro. He hates him for never being around for his family. He hates him for neglecting him and Tsumiki to the point where they can’t even remember what he looks like. He hates him for a plethora of reasons, the list could go on. But, above all, he hates Toji Fushiguro for using you. He grits his teeth and clenches his fists. Just thinking about that despicable man makes blood boil.

“I hate you, Toji Fushiguro.”

————————————

Please don’t copy or take as your own. Likes and reposts are appreciated!

[yinyuedijun]

KITCHEN | excerpt

1.7k word snippet of a sakura/fem!reader/suo fic, which is a prequel to sincerity! I'm only posting this excerpt because it's context for the deranged suo fic I'm about to post on sunday. if u choose to read I hope u enjoy <3

tags for this scene: hurt/comfort, non-explicit references to physical abuse experienced by reader and child neglect experienced by sakura. set post-canon – everyone is 18-19 years old. thank you to @/cafekitsune for the divider!

Sakura had always found your relationship with Suo strange. It's unsettling for him to witness, and sometimes he feels like he'd rather not see it at all.

It isn't as if Sakura dislikes either of you (even though Suo routinely lies to him for no reason), and it isn't as if he finds you individually uncomfortable to be around. It's just that whenever you're together—and you're almost always together on their days off—Sakura finds the two of you embarrassing.

You're just so damn touchy around each other.

Sakura swears that every other couple he's seen is less openly intimate than the two of you, though theoretically you're only friends. Theoretically. In reality, anyone with eyes would doubt that. Every time Sakura glances at the two of you, you're holding onto Suo by the arm as you lean in to tell him to some private joke, or you're swatting Suo’s hand away from your face as he teases you relentlessly, or Suo’s got a hand on your lower back as he guides you around the latest poor fucker who was stupid enough to harass you—usually knocked out cold, on the ground, courtesy of said martial artist.

All this touching is already bad enough, but coupled with Suo’s habit of flirting with you for fun—an activity that he seems to treat as a bloodsport—Sakura’s about ready to run every time he has to suffer being in the same room with the two of you.

(He once did try to sneak out the backdoor of Pothos after seeing Suo wipe a crumb away from the corner of your mouth, his thumb gliding fully, sensually, and unnecessarily along your bottom lip. Tragically, Sakura was spotted by Tsugeura, who dragged him back to the table and proceeded to broadcast his embarrassment to the entire cafe. Ah—so it's one of Sakura's virtues to be private about displays of affection! he’d proclaimed.

Suo then turned to you and said, with a smile so sly that it made Sakura want to crawl underneath the table, I guess I'm not a very virtuous man around you, to which you breezily shot back, Are you virtuous around anyone? But from your expression, Sakura could tell you wanted to hide under the table too.)

He can’t wrap his mind around it, actually—how often the two of you touch each other. The affection that each movement holds. He can't imagine someone putting their hands on him the way that you put your hands on Suo. For Sakura, being touched usually entails getting punched in the jaw or kicked in the face, or having his back slapped in laughter by Umemiya, or carrying Granny on his back when she doesn't feel like walking. But all of that feels different from the ways in which you touch Suo, and the ways in which Suo touches you. Or at least Sakura guesses it feels different—he wouldn't actually know himself.

But he can think of one memory where he knows for sure it was.

It happened several months back, maybe even a year ago now. It was, for sure, before you turned eighteen. It was a quiet night, and he and Nirei were on patrol, and it was so fucking humid that if it weren't for his duties, he'd have left his uniform at home. But the symbol of the Furin jacket was too important to give up, so he suffered with it on.

The two of them ran into you while they were passing through his neighbourhood—what a funny coincidence! you said. Nirei greeted you with a smile, but stopped abruptly when he noticed you were limping. Sakura paused as well. You’re generally not clumsy to injure yourself so severely, and Suo instinctively protects you from all other threats of physical harm. It's hardwired into him in the way that it is for a human being to breathe air. But there you were, with a noticeable limp and nasty discolouration on your cheek.

“Whoa,” Sakura blurted out, “what happened to your face?”

Nirei winced. “Sakura,” he scolded, “try to be a little more tactful, won't you?” And this would normally be the kind of interaction between them that would make you laugh, but you only looked down at your ankle. Sakura wondered if it was broken or sprained. He couldn't easily tell because it was covered, and he noticed then that for some reason, you were wearing jeans—a crazy decision, given the heat.

“No, it's fine,” you eventually replied. “I was sparring with Suo, and I lost pretty badly.” You smiled at them, and it was surprisingly convincing. “I'm super out of practice, you know. Our master would be so disappointed in me.”

Sakura turned to Suo, mouth agape. He couldn't imagine a world in which Suo lacked enough control in a fight to seriously hurt his opponent without intending it—and he’d never intend to hurt you. “For real?”

Suo looked at him for a moment, neither smiling nor nodding, then looked away.

“Sakura,” he said, “do you have a compress and bandages at home? The convenience store is closed, and so’s the pharmacy. I've got some at home, but it's pretty far, and she's in a lot of pain.”

Sakura's place was at the time barren and lacking in most of the essentials for human life, but he did have an endless supply of ice, compresses, and bandages. So the four of you went up to his apartment—Nirei and Suo supporting you as you hobbled up the stairs—where they then dealt with your injuries. Nirei searched furiously for potential diagnoses for your ankle (probably a sprain) and looked up the symptoms of a concussion (you likely didn't have one), while Sakura pushed a bottle of water and numerous painkillers into your hands. He squinted at your injuries, trying to imagine which movements Suo must have used to hurt you like that.

Suo, himself, gave attention to nothing but you. He didn't respond to Nirei who kept on fretting that you should go to a hospital, nor to Sakura who said multiple times that you should change into shorts—because if you sprained your ankle, then you should probably check the rest of your leg for injuries too. He didn't even react when Sakura said your story sounded like bullshit, or when Nirei quietly asked if this was something that Bofurin could help with.

It was like the two of them weren't even there. Like the entire world was irrelevant to Suo other than you.

Sakura studied him closely, trying to suss out hints for whatever happened. He watched as Suo held an ice pack to the bruise on your face, as his fingers ghosted over your other cheek. You didn't swat his hand away, for once. Then he asked you quietly where else you were hurt, and you whispered something into his ear, as if you were telling him one of your inside jokes. But Suo grimaced instead of laughing, and Sakura thought to himself that he'd never seen Suo look so bleak before. Nor so angry.

And when Suo knelt down to wrap a compress around your ankle, telling you that things would be okay as you wiped tears from your eyes, the thought struck Sakura that Suo never acted like this when he patched up his injuries. Nor Nirei’s. Nor Kiryu’s, or Sugishita's, or Tsugeura’s.

Suo handled you in a way that he had never handled anyone else, and also in a way that Sakura would probably not have known how to do for you. Sakura had only sprained his ankle once in his life, back when he was a kid and lost constantly in fights. No one asked him where it hurt, and no one applied a compress to his injury, and he didn't cry at the time because he knew that no one would hold his face and tell him it was okay. So until that moment, Sakura had had no fucking clue you were supposed to do any of those things for an injured person. Even with the guys in Bofurin, all he ever did was throw them a compress and an ice pack before grousing at them: If you're gonna pick a fight you can't win, at least call us first.

Not exactly words to offer to someone who was crying like you were.

So Sakura did nothing, knowing that he couldn't help. You were so fragile, and Sakura was shit at handling fragile things. But Suo was good at it, so Sakura let him take care of you, and Nirei did too, relenting in his questions. He only offered to call a cab—not to take you to the hospital, but over to Suo’s.

Suo gratefully accepted.

Nirei hung back afterwards, and the two of them talked about useless crap for a little bit before Nirei finally bit the bullet.

“Did they say where they had come from, before Suo brought her here?” he asked.

“No,” Sakura replied. “Why?”

Sakura wasn't stupid. He knew very well the kind of injuries that Suo left in a sparring match, and he knew even better all the signs of an actual beating. He knew there weren't many things that Bofurin couldn't help with, in a town like Makochi. Still, he asked, and he let Nirei answer—because he didn’t want to be the one to voice it, and because he wanted to be wrong. But if Nirei said it, then it must be true, and they would have no choice but to face it.

“I'm just trying to figure out,” he said quietly, “if it was her boyfriend or her parents who’ve been hitting her.”

“Her parents,” Sakura stated, because he also knew very well the signs of a shit home life.

He’s never heard from you or Suo exactly what happened, but he's pretty sure he guessed right. You never went home after that. You started living with Suo and his master, which you constantly reminded Suo would be a temporary arrangement, and which Suo constantly reminded you could easily be made permanent. You ignored him and dropped out of school anyway. Found a job in the red light district. Started eyeing the empty apartment next to Sakura’s, asked him numerous times about rent and utilities. Sakura didn't like answering you—said over and over that it would be better for you to stay with Suo—but he told you everything anyway. He understood why you had to find your own place. He understood it because he had to do it too.

After you turned eighteen, you started making money as a hostess and moved in next door.

I hope this wasn't too weird to read out of context rip. anyway. yakuza au sequel coming up on sunday hopefully LOL

[muzansfangs]

Coitus interrupted.

Starring: Giyuu Tomioka x f!reader; Kyojuro Rengoku x f!reader;

Warnings: nsfw, language, oral sex (reader receiving), oral sex (Giyuu receiving), mention to death, depression and alcoholism in Rengoku’s part, modern au, accidental voyeurism, humping;

Format: short imagine;

Plot: you and your boyfriend were having a steamy make out session, but one thing leads to another and you found yourselves moaning each others name. Everything was great, until someone interrupted you. Will it kill the mood, or ignite a devious spark within them?

Author note: Hi there! I have decided to do a re-make of a drabble posted on my old wattpad account, because I have realized that, although I am a huge Rengoku simp, I have not posted anything about him. Shame on me. As you may have noticed, I have already posted a “Coitus interrupted” about Muzan, Douma and Kokushibo because an anon had requested it. I am now serving you with some Hashira contents because why not :)

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Kyojuro Rengoku.

Spending the night with your boyfriend and his little brother meant only one thing: a good, tasty dinner and a warmth shower of love and affection from the Rengoku brothers. Since their mother had tragically passed away, Shinjuro had fallen into a dark loop of depression and alcoholism. He barely took care of the house and Senjuro depended solely on his older brother and you.

Sometimes, when you two took him out for a stroll at the park, people asked if he was your kid and that made your heart explode with joy. You deeply cared about the younger Rengoku and you would have done anything in your power to help your beloved boyfriend in being a parental figure for him. Kyojuro was literally the sun incarnated. He was a caring boyfriend, an amazing friend and the shoulder you could cry on every single time you needed someone to rely on.

Being there for him and his family was truly the least you could do.

Falling in love with him had been easy. You were catastrophically in love with him and, when he had asked you to be his wife a few months ago, you did not have to think twice before accepting his proposal.

Now, it was a hot summer night and you had just successfully put Senjuro to sleep. He was, apparently, full of energy that evening and, after a delicious dinner the three of you had cooked without setting the house ablaze, you and your soon to be husband could finally have the time to enjoy your intimacy in the privacy of his bedroom. Life had been a little chaotic, as of late, and making some spare time to relax and indulge into something more than just ferven kisses shared in the shadows was truly rare.

As soon as you two entered Kyojuro’s bedroom, your back hit the soft mattress of his bed and the air was temporary knocked out of your lungs for the impact. His bright eyes bored into yours as he captured your lips in a tender, but hungry kiss. You could tell he was starving, but so were you and the way you returned the kiss with equal passion spoke volumes.

He peppered your cheeks in kisses, his body hovering over yours as he made sure not to crash you with the weight of his muscular body “Can I taste you? — he lowly said, as his nose brushed against yours — I skipped the dessert just for you, little flame”.

His usual booming tone was long gone and you knew exactly what he meant by that.

As you nodded your head and spread your legs wider for granting more access to him, Kyojuro smiled softly and curled the skirt of your dress up your thighs. He did not ever bother to tug your panties down, he did not want to waste any precious time, after all. Therefore, pushing the thin and now soaked fabric to the side, he delved into your heat.

He slowly began to kiss his way up to your core and you left out soft moans, your half-lidded eyes glancing down at your man and the erotic vision he was providing you. There was not a single inch of your thighs he neglected. Your hand snapped down, fisting his soft blonde locks gently, as you tried to hold back your moans.

You were too lost into your pleasure and Kyojuro was too focused on you, his deft tongue about to reach your aching spot, to hear someone unlock the front door and drag his feet along the floor. When you eventually heard someone scoffing, and your eyes flicked up to see a disgusted Shinjuro on the threshold, it was too late. Your boyfriend whipped his head towards the door and his father did not lose his chace to torment him again.

“Argh, at least, I hope you got talent in that!” Shinjuro commented, shutting the door closed behind him as he left.

You gaped in shock and Kyojuro shrugged, smiling at you softly, before making you forget that little inconvenience.

“I won’t let him ruin our moment” he whispered to you and he actually stack up to his oath.

Giyuu Tomioka.

You had thought that inviting your boyfriend over to celebrate your birthday together was a good idea. It was the first time you finally had the chance to have him sleep over without your boisterous family around to interrupt your moments of intimacy. Giyuu, naturally, obliged your request and by the time you were done with your make-up and hair, the door bell rang.

“Saying that you are breath-taking is an understatement…” he had barely murmured, handing you a small bouquet of red roses as you opened the door for him.

Your reserved and stoic boyfriend always found a way to leave you speechless and his small, loving gestures made butterflies flutter in your stomach. The night had just begun and you were confident about a glorious, positive outcome as it unraveled under your eyes. The attentions, the sweet words and kisses and even the shiny pendant he had gifted you with were small steps that inevitably led you to one result: a passionate make-out session on the sofa.

You had been kissing for a while, your lipstick staining the white collar of his shirt, along with his thin lips and Giyuu had boldly made you sit on his lap. Your hair were disheveled at this point, but you could not care less. Teasingly, you started to grind down on him and the Giyuu dropped his usual façade. You could feel his bulge pressing against your thigh and you decided to properly thank him for the special treatment he had gifted you with all night long.

Low and deep grunts of pleasure fell from his lips as you repeated the action a few more times, before aiming to the second step.

You hastily dropped to your knees, your hands reaching up to unbuckle his belt to give him a good blow job, as your boyfriend eyed you in awe. His lips were slightly parted as you unzipped his pants amd freed his erection. Your tongue swirled around the pinkish tip to give him a taste of what was about to come, when the door flew open and a familiar voice resounded in the room “Happy birth—” Uzui said, cutting himself off.

You blushed furiously and Giyuu hastily grabbed a pillow to cover himself. Humiliating, it was so humiliating. Your brother was absolutely shocked and your boyfriend was probably about to faint.

You three stayed silent for a minute straight, none of you dared to talk, until Uzui cleared his throat and took his leave “Woah! Are you two... Please, go ahead! See you later!”.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! The satisfaction of getting another draft out of my way is incredible. I’ll do my best to take care of some requests and then start my birthday event! Stay tuned! As per usual, thank you so much for supporting this blog. Likes, comments and re-posts are truly appreciated!

Until next,

x o x o

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 1st: Parents | Runaway - Sword | Youthful cw: allusions to neglectful and alcoholic parent, police, incarceration [happy ending promised, as always!] read on ao3 | link to series on ao3

Eddie runs away from home for the last time when he’s thirteen years old. 

The ground beneath his feet is barely visible, barely felt against the worn soles of his too-small sneakers as he runs through the familiar trails of Hawkins’ forest. He’s run away before, usually sneaking out in the middle of the night when he hears the tell-tale silence of his father falling into a drunken stupor on the couch, but this time feels different. This time, he’s actually running, no backpack or hastily thrown together bag of essentials to weigh him down. 

He hadn’t had time, not with so many police cars showing up at once. 

His breath comes in quick bursts, just enough oxygen to carry him off the beaten path onto a path only he knows. It comes without markers or posts. Why would there be signs here? No one else needs the most direct route between Clyde Munson and Wayne Munson’s homes. A 10-minute run, quicker if he sprints like he is now, connects two different worlds and only one feels safe. 

Uncle Wayne has, for much of Eddie’s life, been home. He’s lived with him on and off for a few months at a time, sometimes after dear old dad had been hauled away by Officer Hopper again and other times, when he’d simply run away and his dad couldn’t be bothered to track him down. Eddie spent nearly a year with his Uncle Wayne after his mom died, a wonderful year where Eddie experienced an actual parent and got to figure out things he actually enjoys– fantasy books, D&D, music with intense virtuosity and aggressive guitar lines. He never should’ve gone back, but the guilt ate at him. Maybe it’ll be different, he’d thought at the time. Maybe he’ll care now. 

The fact that he’s running through the woods at full speed away from what could only be defined as a fucking siege with his dad at the center is all the answer he needs. There’s nothing he can do to help his dad– there’s nothing he should do, because he’s a kid at the end of the day and he never should’ve been put in this situation to begin with. 

Eddie shakes his head as he runs, shaking the thoughts from his brain as he hears the familiar, comforting sounds of people talking in the distance. He barrels through the tree-line into one of his Uncle’s neighbors who steadies him by the shoulders, checks him over quickly to find nothing physically wrong. 

“You alright, son? Looks like you seen a ghost.” 

Nope, just a nightmare, he thinks.

Eddie shakes his head and looks around frantically for Wayne, out of breath. “No, no, I’m– I’m fine. Is Uncle Wayne home?” 

“Eddie?” As though summoned, Wayne appears in the doorway of his own trailer a few lots down. Eddie shrugs out of the neighbor’s touch and runs toward the voice, the one that makes his brain slow down from the spinning wheel it’s been on since the first fist pounded on his dad’s door. 

“Wayne, thank God, thank fuck,” Eddie mutters as he runs into him, hugging him unabashedly around the middle. His fingers dig tightly into Wayne’s back, clutching the fabric of his familiar flannel and grounding himself as Wayne hugs him back. 

“I’m uh, I’m glad to see you, too, kid. Everything alright?” Wayne tone is questioning, rightfully so. He doesn’t know yet that Clyde’s been arrested and likely won’t get out this time, or that Eddie’s here to stay. 

Hours later though, after Eddie’s shared his side of the story and Wayne’s made him a mug of his famous hot chocolate, the police arrive. Officer Hopper assures Eddie that he’s in no trouble, that he didn’t need to run, that he’ll never need to run from Clyde again. 

“I know you’ve got a lot of your stuff still at the house. You got family around to stay with?” Officer Hopper asks, looking at Eddie but clearly asking Wayne. 

“‘Course he does, he’s here, ain’t he?” Wayne nods at Officer Hopper and Eddie catches the interaction. “My old van ain’t much– she needs some work– but should be enough to get us back and forth with your stuff, Ed.” 

The van is more than enough for the barebones possessions Eddie cares to bring: an old acoustic guitar that belonged to his mom, a worn paperback copy of The Fellowship of the Ring gifted to him by Wayne, and some clothes and odds and ends. 

Years later, after he runs again and somehow lives to tell the tale, he returns to what still stands of the trailer with Wayne. Most of their belongings are either destroyed or damaged beyond repair but it doesn't matter to Eddie. 

Home was never the trailer he ran to– just the family inside of it.