#i'm going to reblog this probably daily over this week

[murkycran]

Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List

Welcome to my Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List! ^_^ This will include romantic, platonic, and/or queerplatonic Radiostatic fics (and admittedly probably a couple of Radiosilence fics, too).

I will keep updating this periodically as I read more fics, so feel free to check back every once and a while! I'll reblog it when I update it, plus make a note with the date at the top. Trust me, this is by no means a complete list; there's fics I still want to add to this that I just haven't gotten to yet. I just decided to go ahead and post it anyways, because if I kept waiting until I ran out of fics to rec I'd probably be working on this forever.

These are not in any particular order; I'm going by both my Bookmarks list on AO3 and my memory of fics I forgot to bookmark. I also tried to make notes on what fics were written before season 1 released, but I might have missed some, so keep that in mind.

Please let me know if any links don't work or are wrong!

✨Before you proceed:✨ read the tags on these fics if you decide to read them. Many of them have heavy material - no surprise given the fandom, but still, felt like this needed said. On that note, there's also fics with explicit material and some fics are straight up PWP. Again, read at your own risk/heed the tags.

Fic Rec List Masterpost

Staticmoth Fic Rec List

Misc. Vox Fic Rec List

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Radio Healed the Video Star by Aspiring_Forest_Witch

Summary: Alastor comes across an unconscious and battered Vox while out on one of his strolls. He feels compelled to bring him back to the hotel.

Notes: 98% of this fic was written before season 1 was released, so keep that in mind, because there's obviously going to be inconsistencies with canon. It's nearly finished (at least according to the author's notes in the latest chapters, I think). I suggest pacing yourself with this one - it's nearly 700k words long. I ruined a good sleep schedule staying up to get through it. (So worth it though.) There are quite a few OCs in later chapters, but they're such good OCs. You fall in love with them just as much as the canon characters, I swear. I would die for Verity and the Trio.

Let's Misbehave by joosymango

Summary: Alastor wins a bet against Vox, now his rival must stop pestering him for two weeks. It should be a pleasant break! So why does he miss the idiot?

Notes: Vaguely inspired by Aspiring_Forest_Witch's Radio Healed the Video Star. Also largely written before season 1 release. First fic I read for the HH fandom. ^_^

Safe with Me Series by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Having only ever set his sights on men who treat women with odious disrespect, Alastor never thought he'd take interest in Vox's turbulent relationship with his fiancé and business partner, Valentino. He decides to lend a helping hand in the hopes of getting Vox out of his sticky situation. After all, what are childhood enemies for?

Unfortunately, neither Alastor nor Vox could've predicted the rollercoaster of unsaid emotions and future horrors that are thrown their way. Will they be able to rely on each other and get by unscathed? Or will destiny have other plans for these two?

[HUMAN AU] [There's art included for the human designs]

Notes: It's so, so good. ;-; Heed the tags. There's a prequel consisting of oneshots, plus a sequel (listed below, bc I can't not put it here)! And there's ART! So much art!

You, My Everything by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Some say that love can conquer all, even in Hell.

Vox begged to differ, and he was damn well sure Alastor did too – or at least he would be, if Alastor hadn’t become one big question mark.

Sequel to Safe with Me.

Notes: Only read if you've read Safe With Me!!! Still pretty early in the story but so good. ;-; The angst, I swear...

You're on the Air by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: A series of short, daily conversations between a radio host and his avid listener, as the two learn more about each other’s lives over the air. Set in the late 90s/early 2000s.

Notes: Same author as Safe with Me, but not set in the same universe! This one is set up in a literal radio show format; almost entirely dialogue-centric.

Of Candied Pine and Cherried Smoke by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Inspired by x_Arcticfox_x’s fanfiction: Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola

After overdosing on them one too many times to curb the steadily weakening suppressants, Vox's body rejects them outright. Now with his scent getting stronger, he finds himself struggling to hide his true status as an Omega. In his desperation, he seeks help from the one person that knows his secret: Alastor.

Notes: Omegaverse. Same author as Safe with Me series and You're on the Air!

Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola by x_Arcticfox_x

Summary: Vox is an omega, that's his biggest secret.

During his life time he hid this fact using suppressants, and counited to in death. One day he runs out of pills and his supplier is out of stock for the time being so Vox is forced to submit to the torture of going through heat for the first time in decades.

Too bad his business partner only see's omega's as mere object's...

But hey, at least Angel found him just in time, right?

Notes: Omegaverse. Currently on hold, but has 14 chapters currently available for reading. :)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor decides that it's time to claim what is rightfully his, consequences be damned.

Notes: It's not porn but it might as well have been for how fucking intense this scene was. 😳

Dripping Pink by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Just before an Overlord meeting, Alastor gets infected by an off-market, highly potent, and incredibly dangerous love potion. Nobody realises until it's too late.

Notes: Simultaneously funny as fuck and erotic as all hell. I suffered from so much secondhand embarrassment on Vox's behalf. It's wonderful. :D

Lucidity's Fog by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Ever since he met Alastor, Vox has been having raunchy dreams about the deer. Those dreams suddenly stop when Alastor disappears. For seven years, he's free of the guilt, of the shame brought on by his unconscious desire.

Until Alastor comes back, and Vox is plagued by a new dream the same day he finds out about the news. This time, however, something is distinctively different about how the deer is acting.

Notes: Author tagged for light angst, but ngl the ending did not feel like 'light' angst to me lol. Hurt in a good way.

Finger Tips and Dotted Lips by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor has sensitive hands; he finds this out at the most inconvenient time possible. Unfortunately, Vox is the one who ends up paying the price for it.

Having to help a seemingly broken Overlord whilst navigating this new discovery proves to be a little more taxing than the Radio Demon could ever have imagined.

Notes: Alastor is such a troll in this omg.

Thawing Out by Seaside_Dreaming

Summary: Seeing a small crack in Vox's screen nags at Alastor more than he likes to admit.

Vox wishes things were better. Sooner or later, Alastor has to come to terms with the fact he has feelings, in general.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. HIGHLY suggest reading the prequel one-shot. It's not necessary to understand the plot here, but you should read it anyway.

Static by passthevoxcord

Summary: Vox creates a new and improved version of himself to please Val, only to be replaced by it. He is left beaten and broken with no one to turn to . . . except maybe his oldest enemy, Alastor.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Hating you feels so good by TwoBitJester

Summary: Vox obsesses over his returned enemy and finds himself a little too wound up

Notes: Very good PWP.

Laced Over Dinner by hazbinhearts

Summary: Vox is persuaded to dress a little differently over dinner for Alastor, but finds it remarkably uncomfortable as the night goes on. Written for VoxWeek21 Day 3: dressing up [appearance, formal, dance].

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Corsets. 😳

Observer by DeviousPossum

Summary: He moved the cursor to click off, when he suddenly heard a very recognizable static laced tone.

Alastor.

Alastor.

What the fuck. Alastor is singing.

Vox unintentionally ran claw marks across his desk, an increasingly common habit for him as of late. He grimaced at his now ruined table and unsuccessfully tried to reel in an inexplicable feeling that could only be described as jealousy.

Notes: Porn with a tiny bit of plot in the first chapter. :3

RadioTV Week 2021 Series by Heliosolar

Summary: Pretty much the title; various prompts.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. All worth reading, though they aren't connected.

Sharkblocking by Anonymous

Summary: Alastor is Vox’s number one rival. Incidentally, though nobody involved is aware of it, Alastor’s number one rival is actually Vox’s pet shark.

In which Alastor is actually a little obsessed back and Vark is the biggest obstacle to Radiostatic short of canon itself.

Notes: VARK!

Control + V by TooManyPsuedonyms

Summary: Vox and Alastor have a... thing. Not quite a relationship, but something. Vox is too scared to define it properly, and Alastor is dead set that Vox will eventually get bored of his lack of reciprocity and move on.

So, Valentino tries to show Vox what he is missing.

... too bad Vox didn't want him like that. ... too bad Alastor didn't know want is a vague word.

Notes: Heed the tags!!! There's currently a sequel; I haven't read it yet, but I definitely plan to. 👀

gift of the magi by vol_ctrl

Summary: "... Although husband and wife are now left with gifts that neither one can use, they realize how far they are willing to go to show their love for each other, and how priceless their love really is ..."

Alastor/Vox established relationship fluff.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Very sweet. ^_^

the lost tape by vol_ctrl

Summary: There's a NEW ambitious media demon in Pentagram City. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, right?

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

12 Days of Yuletide by vol_ctrl

Summary: A parody of the 12 Days of Christmas traditional tune, as can only be done by Vox gifting to his beloved adversary.

Or, a series of letters from the desk of Alastor upon receiving a series of increasingly elaborate gifts from his insufferably modern foil during the holiday season.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Fear makes the heart grow fonder by Graysongirl

Summary: After a bit of inspiration from an unlikely source Vox comes up with the plan that scaring Alastor is the best route to gaining his affections. The haunted house at LuLu World seems like the perfect (safe) environment for a bit of pre-planned scaring...

[Stand-alone staticradio]

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Funny af. "Red! Red!" XD

Cordyceps, King of Ants by spappest

Summary: Vox is tired. Of Valentino. Of Velvette. Of Alastor, and Hell, and everything in between. He can't escape, but he can cut himself off, piece by piece, until he feels nothing at all. Alastor takes exception to this approach and commissions a certain princess of Hell to fix his foe. Now Vox has a hotel of misfits on one side of him, overlords on the other, and Alastor crushing his cage ever smaller.

Clearly, the only way Vox will get any peace and quiet is to just kill God.

Valentino did always tell him that he had no chill.

Notes: Started before season 1 was released. Technically features Staticmoth but it's not the focus as much as Radiostatic (which honestly has a relationship status of ??? not romantic but also not friendship or even strictly enemies...just...Alastor and Vox). O_O I think about this fic on a daily basis.

Russian Roulette by spappest

Summary: Vox and Alastor play a game that Vox is way too excited to lose.

Notes: Started before season 1 release. Take note!!! I'm putting this on the Radiostatic list because it's almost entirely centered on Alastor and Vox's dynamic, but the romantic relationship is Staticmoth. The Staticmoth is just not featured very much.

Vox and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Afterlife by spappest

Summary: Alastor goes into rut.

Vox has a bad time. Then a good time. Then a very bad time. Then a brief vacation. Then a confusing time.

Notes: Background Staticmoth, but Radiostatic is most prominent. Funny af. Alastor and Vox have...a very special relationship. Lol.

Killer Ex by FanGirl48

Summary: Alastor was a serial killer who valued his privacy. So when someone who claims to know what he is tries to barge into his life he can't let them live, his secret must be protected at all cost.

A normally easy task easy task becomes complicated when Alastor's ex-boyfriend is dragged into the whole thing forcing the serial killer to go visit them for the first time in seven years.

Notes: Human AU. Love me some possessive Alastor. <3

Negotiations by FanGirl48

Summary: Vox had no interest in attending a meeting between Heaven and Hell following the failed attack by the Adam and his Exterminators. Alastor's little gremlin caused the mess, so he can go clean it up. Vox had nothing wanted nothing to do with the radio demon, king of hell or heaven.

But that was before Lucifer made the media overlord aware of Valentino's little job offer to his daughter.

Damnit Valentino!

Notes: "And they were roommates!" "Oh my god they were roommates"

Down, Up, and Back Down by CowboyEnthusiast

Summary: Vox dies. Surprisingly no one takes this well.

Or, Vox dies and Alastor tries to drag his soul back from Purgatory.

Notes: Another fic I think about daily... Heavy themes. Heed the tags.

Hold Me Like a Grudge by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor has spent a long time running from Vox. Vox has chased after him almost as long. When suppressants fail throughout the city, they finally collide.

Notes: Omegaverse. Fun fact about this author: all their Radiostatic fic titles are from Fall Out Boy lyrics lol. (I fucking love FOB sue me.) I haven't yet read all of Rachello344's Radiostatic fics, BUT I have them all on my To Read list because I've loved everything I've read of theirs so far lol.

What Makes You So Special? by Rachello344

Summary: With Lucifer’s return to the Pride Ring, the other Deadly Sins were bound to take notice. When Asmodeus stops by the Pride Ring to visit the Morningstars, the Vees are able to make a deal to host a pop-up shop of the incredibly popular Lust Ring establishment, Ozzie’s, bringing it to the Pride Ring for the first time.

When Vox and Alastor both attend the restaurant’s opening night, long repressed sparks fly, forever changing their relationship.

Notes: Because of the pacing of this (sex first romance later), I feel like this is the Radiostatic equivalent of Femalefonzie's Freak-A-Zoid (a really good Staticmoth fic). This is hands down one of the most romantic Radiostatic fics I've read. ^_^

Hold Me Tight (or Don't) by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor and Vox finally come to an understanding, both of each other and of what they each mean to the other. Their relationship evolves accordingly, one concession at a time, until they both get everything they could possibly want: power, companionship, and even love.

Notes: So, so good.

Keep You Like an Oath by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor normally wouldn’t bother with the chore—breaking into V Tower was quite a lot of work, even for him—but he found himself curious about what Vox and his little friends might be working on. Especially since whatever it was had Angel concerned enough to report back to the rest of the hotel about it.

Of course, before he can learn anything, he’ll need to sneak past Vox’s watchful eye…

Notes: God it's just...so good. Read it. Radiostatic reconciliation. One thing I love about Rachello344 writing Radiostatic is Alastor's terms of endearment for Vox. ^_^

To Be Yours by pinegreenapples

Summary: Alastor hears something he hasn't heard in years. He decides to investigate why now, of all times, this frequency has turned back on. Vox is not amused.

Notes: Hurt no comfort. Hurts so good, though. ;-;

oleanders in june by spoondrifts

Summary: It seems like while Alastor was off preying on the self-destructive addictions of desperate sinners, Vox was off getting himself beaten half to death, probably from spouting belligerent nonsense at someone with violent tendencies and a far lower threshold for disrespect than Alastor. Not everyone finds poor Vox’s chatter as charming as he does.

If Vox is unconscious, then Vox is not being entertaining, and Alastor came here to have fun, not play nursemaid.

Or: Drunk on power and itching to cause some mayhem, Alastor hunts down the only person in the city who's always up for anything. Unfortunately, he finds Vox... not exactly in tip-top shape. No matter; he can work with that too.

Notes: ^_^ Very sweet.

equilibrium by curtailed

Summary: Post-Finale. The Hotel finds Alastor right on the front lawn, unconscious and bleeding, still injured from Adam's blade. While he recovers, all of Hell scrambles to find out who his mysterious rescuer is.

Meanwhile, Vox tries not to freak out that he might have accidentally made a soul bond to save that deer asshole's life. All he had wanted to do was to scope out the ruins of Alastor's radio tower. Fuck him for being curious, he supposed.

Notes: This fic has me in a CHOKEHOLD. I love the characterizations so, so much. Manages to fit in humor alongside the angst. One of the best fight scenes I've ever seen put into words. Curtailed really took Vox and Alastor as characters and planned out a cool fucking fight scene using their unique abilities. I automatically love anything tagged with "one fell first but the other fell harder" lol.

candlelight by curtailed

Summary: Despite the #SirRepentious success, Heaven remains skeptical of a sinner's ability to change. Logic gets lost somewhere, and really, what's a better way to show sinners can be marginally less horrible than to stick two Overlords who hate each other in the same living space?

OR

Alastor and Vox play house.

Notes: The comedy of Alastor and Vox being forced to be civil with each other and then unintentionally becoming very domestic together. Lol

wallow by curtailed

Summary: A 2+1 fic. Two times when Alastor and Vox were in a love triangle (hard quote on love, hard quote on triangle), and the one time Alastor had Vox to himself.

Notes: Only 1 (very good) chapter so far, but safe to say pretty heavy already. Heed the tags.

Addicted by Dancingdog

Summary: After the latest argument with Valentino, Vox finds himself at the Hazbin Hotel. An injured Alastor is less-than-pleased to see him, which is understandable considering they are enemies.

But as more and more of Valentino's venom leaves his system, Vox begins to remember his days before V-Tower and he learns exactly why Alastor rejected his offer all those decades ago.

His memories return in fits and spurts - not all of them good. His past with Alastor isn't something he expected and it turns out that he isn't the only one suffering.

Notes: Dude. This fic hurt me. Such good angst.

Radio Made the Video Star Series by songofhell

Summary: Snippets of Vox and Alastor's afterlife, and their journey from strangers to friends to enemies to... something more.

Notes: Pretty much what the series summary says - a series of installments that chronicle the beginning and subsequent evolution of Alastor and Vox's relationship. Very good, has tons of possessive!Alastor, which I die for.

Uneasy by Saezs

Summary: “Something’s wrong with Voxy.”

Velvette’s eyes snapped to the tall moth pimp. “And?” she prompted with a raised eyebrow. As if she needed to deal with two piss babies this close to a show. Valentino shrugged, tapping away on his phone, and walked away to stand threateningly close to her new models. Before she could snap at him, she saw it; his wings were twitching. Barely noticeable to strangers, just under the hum of the building’s lights, he was squeaking with each tap of his fingers. She felt unease and a healthy dose of aggravation swirl in her stomach.

Or: Vox was roofied and sexually assaulted. Velvette tries to be better than her mother. Unexpected connections are formed.

Notes: Heed the tags! Features genderfluid Vox. :)

Five Times Vox and Alastor Danced and One Time They Didn't by Drowsy_Salamander

Summary: “I say, good fellow, what are you doing on the ground like that?”

The voice was perky, cheerful, and bright. It had a crisp mid-Atlantic accent, the kind Vox remembered being all the rage for stage and film performers back when he first entered the broadcast industry. The diction was crystal clear with every sound enunciated separately to maximise clarity, the consonants clicked and the vowels were broad. It was a performer’s voice.

A voice for radio.

Oh shit.

... Five times Vox and Alastor danced and one time Vox and Alastor didn't.

From their first meeting through their friendship, to their enmity and fighting. From infatuation to yearning to animosity. Dancing is a partnership, is it not?

Notes: Each chapter so far has been a different type of dance, which is really neat. Especially chapter 2. ^_^ That said, there's a feeling of impending doom, knowing what happens to their relationship eventually... Not saying that as a deterrent but just a comment on how I felt while reading it lol. It's very sweet, which is why it hurts to think of future chapters. 🙃

Days Long Past by Momo52

Summary: All sinners of hell bore some physical marks of how they lived and died. Some physical manifestations were more obvious while others were subtle. Vox was not an exception to this rule.

While his television head was an obvious indication of his life while on Earth, the mark he bore from his death was far more subdued. Luckily enough, his shame was easily concealed behind a high collar. Unfortunately, he is just as well known in his afterlife as he was in his life. As such, trying to make everyone believe that he is so much stronger than what his death implies is a constant battle. He only wished that he wasn’t the hardest one to convince.

Notes: I think platonic Radiostatic is the endgame here. Still pretty early in the story, but I'm really liking this author's depiction of Vox and Alastor's pasts. Heed the tags. There are heavy subjects such as suicide (very big theme for Vox's pov) and period-typical racism (in Alastor's past) present in the story.

Remote Access by x-UsoTsuki-x (its_not_reael)

Summary: In the aftermath of Alastor and Vox's electrifying on-air showdown, Vox finds himself unusually rattled. His usual suave demeanor is slipping, much to his cohorts' amusement – and concern. Velvet can do little more than roll her eyes at his antics. Valentino, on the other hand, is convinced that all Vox needs to do is get fucked and relax.

or, alternatively...

The tech-savvy overlord manages to snag a virus from a porn site and finds himself in the arms of his worst enemy.

Notes: Fairly certain this is firmly Radiosilence based on the tags (and the direction of the story so far). Very funny, very hot. Vox is pathetic in this one. Lol

Nun-thing Like You've Ever Seen Series by A_Cypress_Coffin

Summary: Alastor, the feared radio demon with more blood on his hands than most of hell combined, wasn't always as we imagine him. There was a time where instead of a dapper suit and smile he donned a simple vow and habit. That didn't last of course, but the journey is quite something.

Notes: This author has a great sense of humor, lmao. I enjoyed the unique headcanons for Alastor's backstory. The tag that hooked me: "Accidentally becoming a better person through bad domming and found family".

Empathia by The_Oblivious_Swallow

Summary: Creating new technology is boring, sex is physically unappealing, the other Vee’s are so annoying, annoying, annoying! Even Vark, his baby, his pride and joy, doesn’t stir the same joy in his heart like he should.

So, Vox had concluded that it had to go. For his sake.

Notes: Contains Staticmoth, but Radiostatic seems like the endgame (I write this as there is one chapter still left). Really interesting idea. I love Vox.exe so much. ;-;

Every Madman Has His Vice by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “What the fuck do you want, Alastor? Was it not enough to kill me all those years ago? Now, you had to go for the people I loved and the only things I had left in this fucking Hellhole?”

“It was my fault,” Alastor whispers as he approaches Vox slowly, as if he was some sort of wounded animal he didn’t want to scare off. His prey. “Vox, I’m sorry. If I had a chance to redo that night, I would never have hurt you to this extent. I’ll never harm you again.”

“That’s seven years too fucking late, Alastor.”

OR: Seven years ago, instead of Alastor disappearing, it was Vox who left instead.

Notes: I’m so fucking here for this AU. Possessive Alastor, Vox helping with the hotel, Husk is still an Overlord, yessss

Metathesiophobia (Fear of Change) by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: There's a lot that can change in seven years.

But never once had Alastor expected for something like this from his old rival and older friend.

Or, Alastor and Vox start to rekindle their old friendship again after a shocking discovery strikes the deer demon.

Notes: QPR Radiostatic with MtF Vox! Contains a smidge of Staticmoth, but it's in the background and not the focus. Very well written.

surimi and venison by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: A series of short drabbles (500+ words) in an interconnected universe (peep the tags, they're still in hell), centering around Alastor and his new pet fish... shark... television thing. Will (hopefully) update 1-2 times a week. Written as my attempt at a Mermay series.

Notes: Like the summary says, Mermay prompts featuring SharkHybrid!Vox, along with Alastor, who literally saw Vox and decided to make him his pet. Lol.

an arm and a leg, my dear, les yeux d'la tête by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “I mean, usually when Val gets mad he gets like, super pissy too an’ starts destroyin’ shit ‘round the set and in his clubs, but like, usually Vox can calm him down. Problem is, where the Hell is that guy? I haven’t seen ‘im round the Tower for like, a month or two now. That ain’t normal.”

“What, so you mean he just up and left?”

“No, but like… he hasn’t been seen ‘in public’ for like, two months now. It’s startin’ to get suspicious. Like, I ‘unno if I’m just paranoid or something, but… Vox is like, the fuckin’ face of Hell’s Entertainment District. When he’s not round for a bit, that’s nothing to worry about on its own… but when he’s not round for a bit an’ Val and Velvette are creeping around, looking for his rival…? I mean… the dots are connecting. If Al did something…”

“If Vox was dead, we would know.” OR: Two months ago, Vox went missing. Right now, it seems as if Alastor has something to hide.

Notes: Vox gets attic-wifed and wears a virgin killer sweater. ^_^

we'll go down together in the ashes of our love by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: Glimpses into the Radio Demon's life as he reluctantly navigates parenthood with his co-parenting partner and the demon princess hoisted onto him by the King and Queen of Hell.

Loosely inspired by Spy X Family.

Notes: CUTE! I love domestic Radiostatic.

What Has Been by Tianren

Summary: Vox has never known peace. From being the son of a egocentric cult leader, to being the boyfriend of a self absorbed abuser. Vox has managed to build a pretty sad life for himself. The only spot of sunshine that had ever blessed his existence was when he met an amateur true crime investigative journalist, with a podcast named, Alastor. The man was his only source of unfiltered news and contact to the world outside his father’s compound. But after Vox finally escaped the cult he waited for Alastor. Waited weeks in their assigned meeting spot just to be forgotten. Vox was convinced he’d stopped waiting for Alastor years ago until he meets the man again seven years later at a hotel. What will reconnecting with his past lead to and will it help him escape the hell he’s built for himself?

Takes place in the late 2000s early 2010s

Trigger warning for religious trauma and abuse as major themes of this story. Will add more warnings if they arise as I go on.

Notes: Really interesting human AU concept!

(Fic rec list to be continued)

#hazbin hotel #radiostatic #voxal #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #fic rec list

[iceunhie]

“and i can go anywhere i want just not home” : genshin men

premise. home is where the heart is—perhaps it's why they feel so empty whenever they're away from you. or, what it's like when they miss you while they're/you're away.

featuring: kazuha, lyney, wanderer, neuvillette.

notes: gn!reader (you/your pronouns), welcome to the depths of my drafts, you can tell where i got lazy and when i got motivated tbh 💀 an attempt at humor (i am unfunny) reblogs are appreciated! like usual, might make a part 2 idk

...alternative title: 3 twinks and a dragon

NEUVILETTE: wait, why's it raining so hard?! 😱 “oh, it's just the monsieur sulking ^^”

neuvilette finds that one of the most inconvenient things granted in his power is the fact that his emotions can be broadcasted live over fontaine at any given moment.

subsequently, it's pouring; buckets of rain that clearly weren't on the daily weather report yesterday. he can see parents ushering children into their homes, the melusines providing umbrellas to those who had the unfortunate problem of not bringing one at the side.

all in all, fontaine is as is, but neuvilette feels even emptier than before.

it's probably because of you. it's definitely because of you. as fleeting as the rain on a summer day, you'd come and went, wishing him well before you'd leave for liyue for a short vacation.

2 weeks....

(the rain showers even more, heavily pouring over the nation.)

his shoulders tighten uncharacteristically, and if you were to see him, you'd tell him he'd resemble a sad fontainian otter with its seashell taken away.

. . . .

BONUS:

"i'm back- GAH! why are the streets flooded?!"

"oh, mx. [name]! welcome back! i'll tell monsieur neuvillette that you're back now!"

two hours later, the sun shines back again as if it hadn't poured consistently during the entire duration of 2 weeks. the people of fontaine rejoice.

KAZUHA: like a bird longing for the sun to shine again (the most normal) 😭

kazuha isn't the type to brood. he isn't, because he knows he has nothing to brood about. well, most of the time, anyway.

this, however, is partly because you're usually with him, you in all your glory, nourishing him with affectionate kisses and letting him feel the breath of fresh air he desperately needs after a long, enduring trip on the crux.

the days you aren't there however are the days he finds himself most appreciative of his reclusive nature. as the rock of the ship against gentle waters make it sway, kazuha thinks of you.

you, you. were you at liyue, doing well as he hopes you always are, trudging away as you work wonders in the kitchen, preparing meals and watching day turn to night, waiting for time to pass, missing him too?

he hopes you are. (he feels like every time you're gone, a part of him can't erase the sense of homesickness. even if liyue wasn't his home, you are the closest to it.)

"you look a bit blue these days, kazuha. missing a certain someone?" a certain captain guffaws, to which the white haired vagrant can only smile to, though the smile betrays his rather dour mood. beidou's tease is only indicative of his longing.

he does miss you. a whole lot. he misses the way you run up to him as he finally steps off the crux's arms, embracing you with fervor and inhaling the cool scent of your hair. only then, kazuha thinks, he could really feel at home. "only a fool wouldn't miss the one they hold most dear to them."

beidou pats him on the back, sympathetic of his plight. he feels a bit embarrassed. beidou always saw through him. "gotta tough it out, kid. just a few more days and we'll be back to liyue in no time."

he wasn't a kid—beidou knows this, but she felt the need to emphasize so, what when kazuha looked akin to a kicked puppy waiting for its owner in the rain. "I'm well aware."

and so she's gone, warbling an old sailor's tune, leaving kazuha to deal with the ache of you behind.

he also misses a lot of things about you whenever you're gone. though temporary as his wanderlust may be, because he promised you—"i will always return to you"—this has brought him to associate everything he sees in your likeness.

is it the poet in him? perhaps. but loving you is as natural as him taking in the sights of nature, as lovely as the moonlit nights he spends, alone, and without you.

tough it out, as beidou says. that's difficult.

watching as the moon seems ever perpetual in the sky, kazuha only hopes he can tough it out well.

(when he comes back, he's thinking of running towards you this time.)

. . . .

"welcome back, kazu-" you don't even make it to the harbor's docks before you're being tackled and literally thrown off your feet. "what the fuck are you doing?!"

or should you say, swept off your feet? you feel every ounce of shame right now, and burying your head in the crook of kazuha's neck. profanity aside, it's hard not to be ashamed when almost every person with a pair of working eyes can see you being carried by your lover.

you can hear the playful whistles and cheers of the crux crew from behind, and beidou's knowing, knowing smile.

"i'm home." kazuha's breath is close to your nape, and you feel the soft press of his lips to your neck. you flush. face him, and you see his dreamy, lovesick eyes.

if he was looking like that, how could you be ashamed? you laugh, even if you see people side eye you into oblivion. brush your noses together, and close your eyes.

"welcome home, kazuha."

he smiles. the day is bright today.

BONUS:

"kazuha?"

"mm, what is it, love?"

"if you do that ever again i will literally drop dead on the floor from the shame, so don't make it a habit."

"haha, i wouldn't dream of it."

(one voyage later, you find out kazuha is a liar.)

LYNEY: 😐 'insufferably insufferable,' given by lynette

if lynette could choose between smelling every perfume in emilie's shop (and put herself through an attack to her very delicate senses) and seeing her brother mope like a deflated balloon over his absence in fontaine, she'd pick the first option.

you are to blame. rather, maybe it's her brother's utter lack of propriety, proclaiming just how much he misses you with almost enough talk to make her want to rip her cat ears out.

or maybe she'd actually claw at him. lyney was just that infuriating. is this what they mean by love changes a person?

(if so, then lynette reckons her twin has changed for the worse.)

okay, she was exaggerating a bit, because she loved you very much and considered you family as well—but she would gladly dropkick lyney any time. they'd been stationed at poisson for a while, set by father. it was cleanup for the remnants of the prophecy, but it provided them sufficient time away from the court of fontaine, away from distractions.

and, in lyney's mind, it also means he's away from you. in lynette's opinion, he should've stayed. that way, she won't get to listen to him prattle on and on about—

"do you think [name] will still love me even if i've been away from them for far too long? ahh, and lynette, these rainbow flowers, do they need a bouquet matching their eyes instead?"

and of course, her brother being the drop-dead love-drunk fool he is (bless your heart for being able to tolerate her sappy and corny brother) has not. stopped. talking. about. you.

you'd probably accept a bouquet with a dead fish in it if it meant lyney gave it to you, but lynette doesn't voice it out. in a corner of her mind, she wonders if she should just actually become a clockwork meka so she could voluntarily tune herself to tune out lyney's voice.

she crosses her arms, putting her (4th) dessert aside. "they'll like anything you give them. and there's no way they'd get sick of you just because we're away for a week, lyney."

her brother sighs, dreamily looking away at the sky. probably thinking about the flutter of your eyelashes and your smile that makes a magician want to bottle it up and never let it show to anyone else—

blergh, she was beginning to let lyney get to her.

"a week is far too long for me." lyney sulks. lynette resists the urge to roll her eyes. you and me both, brother.

"what if they might be in danger somewhere I can't reach?"

but because she's such an amazing sister (factual), she lets go of her temporary reprieve and comforts her utterly hopeless (factual?) brother.

(for your sake too. because lyney has changed. though she may say it's for the worse, that's not true at all. in fact, it's the opposite.)

"relax, lyney." her tone is sincere this time, that in which always gets lyney to look up to her. they're children again, and lynette is facing her older brother, and they're hand in hand together. "[name] will be fine. as long as it's from the heart, you know that they will cherish anything you give them."

because it's you, someone that accepted them, every part of them. lynette doesnt show it much, but it's one of the reasons why she's so fond of you. she grateful, really, that you love her brother.

thankfully, (to her great relief) it seems the hint that you'd rather have him home without anything than not be home at all, has gotten through lyney's mind. he goes silent, and lynette takes it as a successful mission success. another lovesick crisis averted, her brother's relationship with you stabilized.

at last, peace.....

. . . .

"alright then!" lyney says enthusiastically, with an unhappy lynette and a sheepish freminet in tow.

"let's commence operation steal their heart the moment we finish this mission!"

"the what now?"

lynette facepalms. she shouldn't have said anything....

BONUS:

"uh, lynette, what's that?"

"headphones."

"why?"

"....noise cancellation."

freminet looks at lyney, who's pacing around the room, muttering to himself as his grip on the rainbow flower-marcotte bouquet tightens.

"oh." lynette nods at him wearily.

WANDERER: warning! ⚠️do not approach, he bites (scowls) 😨

there are many times when wanderer wants to bash his hat and let it squash the traveller's flying companion, and today was one of those times.

"hey, hat guy! why are you looking even more scary than usual? your scowl can be seen from miles away!"

he can hear her irritatingly cheery voice in the distance, undoubtly exposing him to the eyes of others. damn it.

"paimon, shh...!" aether silently prays to whichever god may hear (hopefully nahida), because for someone so small, wanderer was emitting a very ominous aura not akin to an aura of death.

"quit your nonsense, you-" wanderer barks back, insult at the tip of his tongue, but he tempers his temper (heh), going quiet instead. "forget it. i don't want be pissed off even more from that disgustingly chatty pet of yours."

"what did you just say to me?! urgh, you, you- ugh, paimon can't think of an ugly nickname! help out here, traveller...!"

"i think you should just let it be this time, paimon..."

he ignores the chatter of the two—mortals—thumbing at his vision, and then tenderly at the little doll he's sewed in his likeness, as well as.... your doll.

(you gave it to him once as a keepsake, in exchange for him sewing you the mini him he painstakingly made. when you got your wish, you made the two dolls kiss, saying something so ridiculous as, "that's us now!" his face burned the entire way back home.)

instead, he finds his thoughts lingering to you. you'd seen him off, staying back at sumeru city with nahida as company, leaving him to escort the traveller and paimon to the desert to clear out some ancient ruins. how boring.

you kissed him breathless back there— much to his chagrin at seeing nahida's knowing smile; but he finds himself longing for your voice and your hands in his hair more than ever. at least then he'd be able to solve the ringing in his ears from paimon's voice.

he's long stopped denying his erratic, tumultuous feelings, but he misses you. unbearably, because at least you were better than the two he's forced to babysit accompany.

and he also misses how you would take shelter in his hat in the sweltering desert heat, kissing his cheek when he flew you around to explore the pyramids, and when you would hold his hand as you complained about how long you two would be walking up, all sand and sweaty.

(he'd tease you about leaving you for dead, but was always the first to worry whenever you get dizzy from heat. a walking contradiction, this one.)

"hey, wanderer, you there?"

"you're a little red. are you overheating?woah, so puppets really can do that.... ah, you're spacing out, too!"

ugh. "what am i, a tea kettle?" he scowls, crossing his arms.

he's already counting the days he can finally return to your arms.

paimon stomps her feet at the nonexistent ground, "we're just a tiny bit worried, you know!"

"yeah? well you should do me a favor and shut your mouth a little. otherwise you'll end up overheating from the amount of nonsensical words you spit out."

"this guy's a real piece of work, only being kind to [name], jeez..." to his glee, the pixie mutters angrily. something about being a meanie and insufferable. well deserved.

aether watches the exchange with the soul drained from his body. 800,000 mora, 800,000 mora.....

. . . .

"uh... wanderer?" you chuckle nervously, not knowing where to place your hands as he buries his face head-first into your chest the moment he's home, allowing you to gently caress the soft strands of his hair.

"..."

"so are you gonna talk about it, or?"

"just let me hold you, will you?" he bites, but there's no bite at all. you kiss the top of his head as his ginormous hat is taken off his head completely. he nuzzles deeper into you. "....i missed you."

that shut you up real quick. you try to hide the giddy smile you have, but he lifts his face up to see it anyway.

"i missed you too."

BONUS:

"[name], is that an insect bite on your neck?"

"huh?!"

aether squints at you, "what kind of insect leaves that big of a bite-" his eyes pop out. turns red. "oh."

you look away. one less pure soul in the world.... sorry, aether.

(in a corner of the house of daena, wanderer sneezes.)

more hsr content soon, also for very important reasons: do you think sunday would let you bite the wings by his ears yes or no

© 𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

#mhie's spirals #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #wanderer x reader #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvilette x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x reader #lyney x reader #genshin drabbles

[neptuneiris]

True Intentions | (One-shot)

Be the only one or be an 'sometimes'?

pairing: modern!aemond (best-friend brother) × fem!reader

summary: even knowing his reputation, you've always had a little secret crush on the most popular boy in school, Aemond Targaryen, until it becomes impossible to hide it when your brother Cregan makes friends with him and you begin to see him more frequently.

word count: 9.0k

I'm very excited about this!

I hope you really like it, I loved writing this even though it took me a while, but here it is finally:) comments and reblogs are appreciated beautiful people, thank you so much for reading!❤

warning's: language, slight angst, mention of alys, sexual content, spanking.

You always hated it when your brother Cregan brought his friends over to your house when your parents were away, whether it was to watch soccer games, play video games or have some fun at the pool.

You especially were never the type of sister to bring friends over, rather you were the type of sister who preferred to go to friends' houses, as you never mentioned your house as an option.

It just wasn't comfortable for you.

And apparently it wasn't enough for your brother and his friends to see each other almost daily at school that they also had to go to your house.

But you couldn't really do anything, he's the older brother and it wouldn't make any difference to accuse him to your parents since logically there's nothing wrong with him inviting his friends over, besides they work almost all the time and probably wouldn't make a big deal out of it.

So you can only lock yourself in your room with food as a provision, put on your AirPods and wait for them to leave.

And that's what you do, all the while Cregan and his friends prowl around your house. But you reach your breaking point when again Cregan plans a pool party.

"Are you serious?" you inquire, clearly annoyed, "I swear to God, Cregan, this is not going to happen again."

"Oh come on," he gives you a tired look, tossing balloons and animal inflatables into the pool, "Live a little, sis."

"No! You always do this, the same old shit!"

You reproach him as you follow him back into the house, where at the kitchen island is a stack of beers that he begins to store in the fridge completely disinterested to your clear dissatisfaction with it all, as he just doesn't care.

"Last time everyone was coming into the house like it was nothing to leave the whole floor wet, they also left a mess all over the kitchen, pool and garden," you remind him annoyed, "Not to mention we had complaints from the neighbors for all the fuss you made."

"Fucking Hell, will you relax? I'll take care of everything," he says looking at you wearily, only increasing your anger more, "The guys won't be long and I needed everything to be ready."

"That's what you always say but I'm the one who ends up cleaning everything up in and I'm the one who deals with the neighbors because of you fucking fault!"

"Fine!" he exclaims in exasperation, looking at you, "You have my word, I'll take care of everything this time, yeah?"

He looks at you seriously to get back to dealing with the beers, but you don't believe half a word he says.

"Now do you want to help me turn on the pool lights? Also lock the upstairs doors, just in case."

You slowly shake your head in his direction with your arms crossed with your completely serious and annoyed look in his direction.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

You don't wait for him to say anything back nor do you say anything else, you just annoyingly turn around and walk upstairs to your room, preparing to be another long night confined to your four walls.

And this is what happens every time your parents aren't home, having to put up with the liberties Cregan takes to do whatever he pleases around the house.

It's not until one day when you get home from your music lessons at almost seven o'clock that when you open your front door, you hear a lot of voices and laughter.

During the week he usually doesn't invite anyone over, except for a few times he invites the Velaryon brothers, Jace and Luke, over to play video games after school.

The weekend is when it really bothers you that he throws big parties without your parents knowing.

You close the door hard enough to announce your arrival and look into the living room as you head for the stairs, when then, you see them.

And they see you too.

With handsome faces and infectious smiles, besides their unusually silver hair and blue eyes that steal the breath of every girl in the school, Aegon and Aemond Targaryen, the kings of the whole school and also the most players, are in your living room having a few beers and smoking with Cregan.

And Cregan is the first to react.

"Guys, the lady of the house is here," he says, "So let's take this to the pool, shall we? Before she starts screaming."

You watch him with a completely serious look on your face as you see Aegon let out a small chuckle to himself. And without a word, you avert your gaze and continue on your way to the stairs, feigning disinterest.

And just like all the other girls at your school, you can't help but feel equally captivated and attracted to him, Aemond.

However, you don't leave without one last look at him, Aemond Targaryen.

From your single couch and with a cigarette between his long fingers, gives you back an intense and burning look that makes you feel a strange sensation all over your body.

But it's not something you really go around telling everyone, let alone something you want your brother to know now that he's apparently become friends with him.

However, you should have expected him to notice.

And it happens when Cregan again throws a pool party with all his friends and him too, where you don't confront him much about it like previous times and that's what gets his attention.

"Which of the two is the one you like?"

He asks you suddenly with a curious expression and a hint of suspicion in his voice, making you watch him with confusion on your face.

"What are you talking about?"

Your whole body tenses up completely upon hearing your brother's words and you inevitably start to feel terribly nervous, as well as your heart starts to beat too fast, especially because of his suspicious look on you.

"The Targaryens."

He points at you with his gaze, crossing his arms and looking at you again attentively and suspiciously.

"You haven't caused a scene since the two of them have been coming around often and you certainly don't look upset when it used to be a problem with anyone coming around, so you definitely must like one of the two of them, so tell me, which one?"

But you feign innocence and confusion, only to stare at him with your most incredulous face of all and try to evade him.

"You're talking nonsense."

"Oh, am I?"

"Cregan," you observe him seriously, "Have you ever seen me talk to either of the two of them here or at school?"

"Hmm," he says for a moment, thoughtfully.

Still he doesn't look entirely convinced and analyzes you with a completely intent and penetrating gaze, making you feel more nervous but you control him well.

"Still I find it odd that you don't complain about them when they come."

"Then maybe you should think about the fact that I just got tired of telling you the same old thing over and over again," you persuade the subject, "No matter how many times I complain, you'll still do what you want," you tell him seriously, "Besides, you assume that as if I didn't go to the same school as you and didn't know the Targaryens."

"That's exactly why I'm telling you," he says instantly, just as serious, "Do you think I'd like to see you start dating one of them?"

"And why do you care?"

"Why do I care?" he repeats incredulously, "I'm your brother, of course I care."

"As if I care about the girls you date," you tell him just as incredulously.

"Well, at least I have a good reason here," he insists, "I know them, both," he clarifies, "And I don't want you to get hurt, that's why I'm telling you."

"Stop being ridiculous," you tell him with your clearly annoyed tone, starting to head to your room, "And even if I will start dating one of them, it's none of your business."

You sentence to finally leave him behind, leaving a tension in the kitchen, while inside, you finally stop feeling tense and nervous, but Cregan continues with his suspicion.

He almost had you, almost.

And after that conversation, automatically the Targaryens come to your house more often, even more than usual.

Even after school, Cregan invites them over, the two of them and also the Velaryon brothers, where they all together invade your house and you start to witness the personality of him that he is mostly known for.

And it happens one day you're making yourself food and you hear them all talking from the living room.

"Oh, this fucker is texting Savannah," you hear Aegon's excited and amused voice.

"What!? Savannah Williams!?"

"Yeah, since yesterday. I saw her name on his phone when she texted him."

"So what do you say, dude?"

"Not much, actually," you hear his voice.

"But haven't you gone out with her before?"

"Yeah, but you know, it was casual," he explains, "Just now she told me her parents aren't home."

"Oh dude, if I were you, I wouldn't waste the opportunity," your brother says excitedly.

"But what happened to that girl at the party last week? What was her name? Emily, I think."

"Ah Emily… yeah, we had a thing but it was casual too. We only met once after that party."

"She was so hot, but Savannah is hot too."

"Yeah, I know," you hear his nonchalant voice.

"So will you go see her?"

"Yeah, I think so."

You hear them continue to talk, but you tune out and sneak off to your room unnoticed.

It's not the first time you've witnessed these conversations, though. It also happens when they are in the pool and you find yourself back in the kitchen preparing food.

But you can't concentrate because through the glass of the huge windows you see Aemond's bare chest marked. This is a distraction but you try to ignore it as much as you can, but to no avail.

When then the movement and sound of him emerging from the water catches your attention and that of Cregan and Aegon.

"Where are you going?"

"To Cerelle's," he announces, with his phone in hand and his towel over his shoulder.

"Yo! Cerelle Lannister!?" exclaims Cregan in surprise.

"She's so sexy," Aegon says, grining.

"She told me she's home alone and wants me to come over," he explains, as you watch him quickly move his fingers across his phone screen.

"Good luck, dude!"

Even though you know his reputation and how you are aware of his numerous 'adventures' with other girls, you can't help but feel a knot in your stomach and wonder if he might ever be interested in you.

You feel another pang of disappointment when you hear all this and also when you see how he smiles and starts to make his way over here without taking his eyes off his screen.

This immediately makes you react to quickly go to your room so you don't cross paths with him.

Not in that way, since you really don't want to be another girl on his huge list, but be something more genuine and real to him.

But that's totally ridiculous and impossible.

You tell yourself in disbelief, seeing the reality, as it's clear he's not looking for something serious and you don't want to be a 'one night stand' for him if you'll be ignored, forgotten and to some extent humiliated afterwards.

One day, taking advantage of the fact that Cregan is not at home on the weekend and neither are any of his friends, much less your parents, although that is actually no surprise, you decide to make this day for yourself, relax and enjoy your own company.

You decide to stop paying attention to your phone and with your towel in your arms, you leave your room and go down to the pool.

But just as you finish walking down the stairs and are about to turn down the hallway, the doorbell rings.

You stop with a tired expression as that alone has slightly disturbed the zen zone you now find yourself in, but having no choice, you turn around and head to open the door, thinking it must be Mrs. Arryn to ask you for sugar, as usual.

But when you open the door, it is not Mrs. Arryn, but rather you come face to face with Aemond, taking you by surprise and takes your breath away for a moment.

If he is surprised to see you, he doesn't show it, just raises his eyebrows slightly and you notice how he shamelessly runs his eye up and down you, making you embarrassed and nervous as you remembers your outfit, which is a cute black two-piece bikini.

And you quickly try to cover up a bit with the towel in your hands, although in reality this shouldn't embarrass you, since you're at home and you didn't expect to see him, besides this bikini doesn't leave much to the imagination.

Or so you think.

"Hey."

He says to you dispassionately in greeting mode, with a look that you can't really describe but that makes you feel more nervous and you feel your heart beating too hard.

"Hi," you try not to stutter, "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

Aemond watches you with a little mischievous smile barely visible and a spark of amusement in his eye.

"No worries," he tells you in his soft tone.

"Hum…" you place your confused face, "My brother is not here," you let him know, still finding it strange that he doesn't know that.

"Oh," he is silent for a moment, watching you intently, "He's not?"

You shake your head.

"He said he was going to Alysanne's, but he left hours ago," you explain and he hums in understanding, "Did you tell him you were coming today?"

"No, although I should have, I was just passing through and decided to come," he explains to you as well, shoving his hands into the pockets of his silk jacket, "I left my wallet here last night," he tells you later, getting your attention more, "That's why."

"Oh," is all you say, not knowing what else to say for a few seconds, "Well, I'm not sure what time Cregan will be back. But if you want to go up and get it, I'll be at the pool."

You allow him passage, as it's not as if he's a complete stranger and it's not as if he doesn't hang around here often either, it's as if he and Aegon live here too, being the brothers Cregan wished he had.

"Okay, thanks," he tells you as you step aside and make room for him to come in.

"Just close the door when you leave," you tell him, still feeling your heart beat too fast against your chest.

Aemond turns his gaze back to you, nodding in your direction.

"All right."

You give him a small smile and without saying anything else to him, you walk past him, hurrying to get out of his sight and urgently needing, now more than anything else, to get your whole body into the warm water of the pool that will make you stop feeling so tense.

And this is why you don't feel Aemond's piercing, burning gaze on you as you pull away, admiring your bare skin and having a perfect idea of your naked body to the imagination.

And with that alone, he feels himself getting hard at the sight of your smooth, long legs, as well as getting a good look at that ass of yours jiggling as you pull away.

He wets his lips and with a little grin, finally makes his way to Cregan's room, thinking about little things since you're here alone…. now with him.

Meanwhile you, wanting to forget that Aemond Targaryen is in your house right now, submerge yourself completely in the water, where you immediately feel a sensation of freshness and relief.

The water caresses you and envelops your body completely, while you let out a small sigh of pleasure and begin to get used to the new temperature, letting the revitalizing sensation envelop you completely.

Then you emerge with a slight jump, remove your wet hair stuck to your face and begin to swim elegantly, where your arms and legs move at a steady pace and the water takes you in all directions.

You submerge again for a moment and watch the horizon, as your house is on a hill and you can see the lights of neighborhoods below, being a beautiful sight when the sun sets and also when the sun goes down.

However, again your zen zone is disturbed when you hear the movement of the kitchen glass doors sliding, so you turn around in confusion and again feel all your nervousness wash over you.

Aemond makes his way over here, but what strikes you more than anything else is how he has clothes in his hand and also one of the many clean towels Cregan has in his bathroom.

You look at him confused face and he looks back at you with his intent gaze.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

The words get stuck in your throat, watching him still confused, feeling really very nervous and not understanding what he is doing here since he was supposed to go get his wallet and then leave, while he stands at the edge of the pool, watching you.

"Hum…" you say not really knowing what to say, "Are you going to wait for Cregan?"

He averts his gaze from yours, then drops the towel and clothes on a chair with dispassionate movements, to return his gaze to you.

"Yeah, I can do that too."

"And what are you actually here to do?"

You watch him warily and with a slight distrust, but not in a bad way, it's simply nerves.

He looks at you slightly amused.

"To keep you company, of course. Unless you don't want me to," he hastens to clarify.

And here your dilemma begins.

Being alone here with Aemond, in your house, in your pool, was a scenario you longed for and feared at the same time. You longed for because that's how your mind works when you're attracted to him, but feared since anything could happen.

And knowing his reputation, maybe when the moment happens, if the moment happens at all, you don't know if what will come next will be bad or good.

Also, you don't know if Cregan will arrive at any time or even later, so if he arrives in a couple more minutes and sees you alone here with Aemond, you don't even want to imagine the scandal he will make.

You don't know if Aemond has considered that possibility too but if he has, he doesn't seem to mind.

"So?" he looks at you expectantly.

But you again, can't utter words.

You let out a long breath and swallow hard before responding, trying to hide your excitement and nervousness.

You don't want to look bitter by telling him no, that it will be best for him to leave, but you also can't find another way to politely decline.

And on the other hand… there is that inevitable emotion in your being that begs you to invite him into the pool with you.

"Hum… yeah, sure, if you want," you say acting nonchalant, averting your gaze from him and distracting yourself with the water.

Aemond can't help but put on his smirk again and right in front of you, wanting to give you a show, he takes off his shirt, to which you watch him helplessly out of the corner of your eye and make sure he doesn't catch you admiring the view.

He's wearing that usual silver chain around his neck that makes it stand out against his skin, making him look only even sexier when he doesn't have a shirt on and God, you don't know if you can survive this, thinking it's a bad idea.

Then you watch as he pulls on a pair of Cregan shorts, secures his hair in a low bun and finally steps into the water.

In a nonchalant way you make yourself more towards the shore, unobviously avoiding getting too close to him as he swims towards the center of the pool, making it more impossible for you not to watch him as it's getting dark and the last orange rays of the sun beautifully illuminate his skin that glows slightly from the water and his face.

And then feel his intense gaze on you, while you try to distract yourself with your eyes, trying to focus only on you.

But it is genuinely impossible.

However, he doesn't make any effort to talk and neither do you, which you are grateful for, to continue to feel the calmness and relaxation throughout your body, although it's a little hard for you being here alone with him.

And it's a bit awkward since neither of you are talking, but is there anything to talk about?

He's one of your brother's best friends and you're just the sister, the two of you don't really know each other, so it makes sense. But still you feel the slight tension between the two of you and you don't even know why.

You wonder if he feels the same way too when suddenly his low, amused voice almost makes you startle in your place.

"I've always wondered why you're so quiet when Aegon and I come over."

You look at him with a slightly surprised expression, not expecting that, feeling again how your heart is beating too fast from nerves, for what are you supposed to tell him?

You should tell him that you have a crush on him and that your brother warned you about him?

"I know it's your house and I come with your brother but… you look like you hate me or something."

Oh God.

You think, only making you feel more nervous, especially since it's really impossible not to see a part of his torso and pectorals that looks almost glowing from the water and sunlight, not expecting to hear those words either.

And you force yourself not to turn your back on him anymore to watch him while they talk, adopting a relaxed and confident attitude, just like him, when actually inside you are shaking with nerves.

"You just said yourself, you come with my brother, not me," you say softly.

And while he watches you and listens attentively, he also struggles just like you not to see too much of your breasts confined in that black bikini of yours that makes you look too sexy, especially the way the wet fabric looks and your skin on your chest and collarbone too.

"And I don't hate you," you clarify, slightly amused and absurd, "We just don't talk, that's all."

"Because you haven't given me the chance."

You look at him expectantly.

"I don't remember a single time you ever tried to talk to me."

"That's exactly why," he tells you softly, "Because you run away before I can try."

Now it is you who watches him completely attentively, while you feel your heart beating like crazy and you look away from him for a moment, not knowing what to say or do since he is right, feeling really very nervous, especially when he starts to swim slowly towards you, with a determined look.

And you for insisting, you start to back away, watching his slow and calculated movements with some trepidation, having an idea of what he intends to do and you know it's not a good idea at all.

"See? You're already running away," he points out to you with his amused and satisfied look.

And you don't miss his determined look, how his head is slightly tilted as he continues to slowly advance towards you, with the corners of his lips twisted upwards in a small smile and his blue eye glowing, while his prosthetic eye remains the same as ever.

And you still don't want to agree with him.

"That's not true, I'm not doing anything," you defend yourself in a weak and pathetic attempt.

"Oh no?" he raises his eyebrows expectantly at you.

And you start to lose it all when he's already in front of you, cornering you.

"Aemond," you call him in a sigh in warning mode, fully alert, leaving his name in the air as you become very nervous of his intense, dark gaze on you.

"What's wrong? Are you afraid of me?"

You watch him with a slight expression of surprise and even more nervousness, as you press your lips together and try to say the right words.

"No," you reply softly, "But I know you're no good either," you confess.

And he frowns, watching you interestedly.

"What do you mean?" you are silent for a moment, as you give him a sad look, serious and obvious at the same time.

"We both know what," you tell him softly, without much detail.

And at this, Aemond can't help but feel annoyed, immediately noticing how you clench your jaw and look away from yours for a moment, serious and thoughtful.

You know he shouldn't have to be upset with you for implying a truth you both know, especially him, but still you can't help but hold your breath, hoping that maybe you haven't gone too far.

All the while thinking that maybe you've ruined the first chance you've had to talk to him by telling him that he's no good by reputation, since that's not your concern, but at least you make it clear that that's not what you're looking for now.

"And you don't even want to try?" he asks you quietly, turning his gaze back to you, attentive and completely willing.

You stare at him, completely speechless, as you feel your whole body tense and your eyes are slightly wide open, your lips parted, not having the slightest idea what to say at the same time as a million questions invade your mind.

And just at that moment, Cregan's words come back to your mind.

"I know them, both. And I don't want you to get hurt, that's why I'm telling you."

So you know.

Aemond is not like you and the only thing he wants is to fill his list, no matter with whom, not even if it's the sister of one of his best friends, who are supposed to be 'forbidden', somehow.

And that's why you decide to answer him truthfully, no longer caring if you hurt his feelings, even though you doubt it very much.

Not wanting this to go any further, since you knew all along that letting him stay was a bad idea, you move as fast as your body in the water will let you, walking away, wanting to keep your distance again.

"And be just another girl on your list that you never speak to again and suddenly pretend she doesn't exist anymore? No thanks."

But just as you pass by him, he's faster and you feel his big hand grab your arm and twist you in a demanding motion back towards him, slamming his chest against yours, locking you in his arms, making you gasp in surprise.

His face is above yours, completely close, causing you nerves and you try to free yourself from him, but he doesn't let you, even having that determined, attentive and dark look.

"Do you ever stop running away?" he asks you in a low, husky tone.

"What do you think you're doing?" you hiss nervously.

"You're not even letting me explain."

"There's nothing to explain."

"Oh no?" he asks, "Did I say I only wanted you for one night?"

"That's what you do, Aemond, with every girl," you say absurdly, "Am I suddenly going to be the exception? How am I supposed to believe that?"

However, any further protest gets stuck in your throat as Aemond grabs one hand from your cheek and the other places it on your bare waist, pulling you closer against him in a possessive grip.

And you know you're losing the battle when he brings his face closer to yours, where your noses brush lightly and your breathing becomes more rapid, having no idea what's going on.

But Aemond does.

And as he strokes your soft, wet cheek with his thumb, watching you intently and with understanding, his next words make you reconsider the situation completely.

"You won't be just another girl on the list," he murmurs softly to you, "I won't hurt you. I promise."

You shudder completely at his words, but also at his touch and closeness, being impossible not to look between his violet eye or his full lips, which Aemond notices, also peering between your eyes and lips hungrily.

And you don't even think or discuss it anymore when he leans his face towards you and kisses you with need, without even giving you time to react.

You moan into his mouth in surprise and he pulls you roughly to him, lowering his hands to your body where he makes you wrap your legs around his torso, then makes room between your lips with his tongue, making you gasp.

You immediately bring your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss further, a passionate kiss, where you barely give each other time to breathe properly before desperately bringing your lips together again.

A slight tingle of desire is felt between your legs as you move your body and legs to hold his torso tighter, where you perfectly feel the hardness of his cock under your ass.

You moan as you feel one of his hands grip your thigh and the other caress the skin of one of your ass cheeks, making you gasp against his mouth, closing your eyes in delight as he pulls his lips away from yours and begins to leave soft kisses on your neck.

"I fucking knew it," he murmurs in delight too in his husky voice, running his tongue over your sensitive skin, "I knew you wanted me too."

You squint completely as the hand on your ass reaches lower and nonchalantly rubs his palm over your covered, moist center.

"Aemond," you moan.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, smiling in the middle of your lips as he kisses you again.

But it's there in that moment with his hand caressing you right at your nerve center that your brain for an instant seems to react, realizing what's really going on and you stop kissing him abruptly, watching him in surprise and slight fear as he watches you slightly confused.

"W-we can't," you say in a trembling voice, "We can't do this, t-this is wrong. Cregan—

"We can't do it or we can't do it here?" he inquires expectantly.

You let out a sigh.

"Both," you say with a certain embarrassed tone, "But I'm more worried about Cregan. If he sees us, he'll go crazy."

"Come on, Y/N, you're not a little girl anymore."

"I know but he warned me about you and your brother," you tell him hopelessly, "And you're one of his best friends."

Aemond is silent for a moment, watching you and nothing else, where he is aware and so are you of the hardness in his shorts, while in his thoughts he bets that you too must be spilling your juices between your legs.

Honestly he understands your concern, but he also understands that Cregan is really no one to tell you who you can and can't date, as the decision is totally up to you.

He doesn't want to have problems with him either as he also considers him one of his best friends but you... you simply drove him crazy with seeing you in this black bikini and now he is even more so for you, wanting, needing more of you, no matter the consequences.

"Then we have to be careful and not to say anything to him," he tells you softly, in solution, "Only if you want to," he clarifies, "But if you want to stop now, just tell me and I will, before we take this any further."

But you don't really have to make a decision when you are already here, in his arms, feeling how much he wants you and you also recognizing how much you want to keep touching and kissing him, no matter what.

But he still gives you that option, to make you see that he really doesn't want to hurt you and that he respects your decisions, since you are the one in control of all this and you are the one who puts the stop, at any time.

And when Aemond sees how you are watching him intently, with indecision in your gaze, holding back your true desires, thinking fast, he cocks his head to one side and watches you curiously.

"Or do you really want me as much as I want you, princess?"

Something snaps inside you and not just from hearing that nickname for you, but from having him so fucking close and his lips being a complete invitation to you and in fact all of him.

Soon enough, he is sitting on the edge of the pool and you find yourself sitting on top of him, your arms around his neck as you press yourself against the hardness of his shorts.

So you think no more and again crash your lips against his, resuming what you were doing before, to which Aemond responds with the same rudeness and fervor.

And then without stopping kissing you, he carries you to the edge of the pool along with him.

You move your hips in circles on top of him, rubbing your needy center against his hard cock, while he caresses your thighs, your ass and all the skin he blindly finds without stopping kissing you, feeling his breathing just as ragged as yours.

Then he brings his hands up and starts sliding the strings of your bikini over your shoulders, sending fiery electricity throughout your body.

"What was it you said? That we couldn't do this here?" he murmurs hoarsely against your skin, leaving wet kisses on your collarbone and neck.

You moan, as your bikini top piece is loosened completely by Aemond's fingers and you involuntarily wiggle your hips more intensely.

"You just can't resist, can you?" he asks you amused amidst all the sensuality.

"Shut up," you whine pathetically into his lips.

This time he kisses you again, softly and tenderly, deep, as he with his hand pulls away the piece of your bikini top that covers your breasts, freeing them, causing him to groan at the sight in front of him.

"Fuck," he murmurs, "Such a pretty tits, princess."

He says to you with his eye fully dilated and watching you hungrily, then you moan as he brings his mouth to your hard, wet nipple and begins to caress it with his tongue and lips, sucking on it, while he kneads the other one with his hand.

"Oh yes," you moan, pulling your breasts closer to his face.

You continue to move your hips on top of him, desperate and needy to feel the friction his cock gives you against your swollen clit.

When you least expect it, you begin to approach your limit, as your whole body tenses and his caressing hands only add to the pleasure.

"Mhm," he moans against your hard nipple, then gives the same attention to the other, still kneading them as he pleases.

"Fuck, Aemond, please don't stop," you say under your breath.

But that's exactly what he does, he releases your nipple with a wet sound and captures your lips in a sensual kiss, making you moan and groan at the same time from the attention on your breasts.

You arch your neck and moan, clinging to him completely, needing more of him, driving you completely insane.

And you sigh as he again distributes kisses all over your neck and his teeth grind against your sensitive skin.

You feel the moist heat of his mouth and hands all over your body, as if he wants to mark you with each firm, possessive touch.

"Remember we have to be careful, baby," he suddenly murmurs hoarsely in your ear, feeling his warm breath, "And we don't want your brother to see his innocent little sister getting the fuck of her life if he comes back, do we?"

Despite all the desire you're feeling and you're dripping completely for him, his words reach your brain and scare you a little, so you force yourself to be patient and you both go up to your room.

And soon enough you find yourself lying on your bed, with Aemond on top of you, spreading your legs for him, watching with his dilated eye and gently biting his bottom lip your wet pussy ready for him.

"Seven Hells," he growls, running his fingers all over your entrance, "Look at you, you're dripping, princess."

His cock pulses in pain for release, watching you in complete delight as you moan with every movement of his fingers that collects your juices, spreading them all over your pussy, making you wiggle your hips against his hand.

"Aemond, please," you cry, needing to feel it inside you, now.

"What is it, baby? Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to fuck this pretty pussy hard?"

He teases you, running his fingertips over your hole, making you moan, sigh and groan.

"Please, just fuck me, fuck me with your cock," you implore him.

"Yesah? Is that what you want?"

"Yes, please!"

"Only because you asked nicely."

He joins in, leaving you needy and trembling on your bed, spread wide open for him, watching as he removes his wet shorts and boxers, completely freeing his entire erect, heavy, hot, hard cock, just for you.

Your mouth waters at the sight and he proudly holds it in his hand, turning to make his way back to you, thrilling and scaring you at the same time as you've never had a cock like Aemond's inside you before.

"Do you take control pills? I don't have a condom."

"Yes, I take them, don't worry," you assure him instantly and he grins.

"Eager, huh?"

"Aemond," you groan and moan at the same time.

"Someone's acting like a little brat," he croons, starting to rub the tip of his cock against your pussy, making you shudder and moan, needing him inside you, "Behave yourself, princess. I'll give you exactly what you want."

"Stop teasing," you whine between whimpers.

When suddenly Aemond enters you in a single hard, firm movement that makes you release all the air in your lungs, moaning loudly at the rough intuition as he pulls it all out of you again.

"What did I say? Stop being a little brat and behave yourself," he warns you.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I promise."

You plead desperately and moan as he slams the tip against your pussy, to again enter you fully in a more careful and slower way, letting you feel all of him, making you moan.

"Oh fuck, Aemond," you moan his name, drunk with pleasure, closing your eyes tight.

"Yeah, just like that, squeezing me so fucking good, baby," he murmurs hoarsely in delight.

He leans fully into you, kissing your hot, sweaty skin, just like him, then slides all the way down to your bottom, where you feel every inch of his long, hard cock, moaning into his mouth, as your whole body trembles.

He stops once he's all the way inside you, letting you get used to his size, while you feel him pulsing inside you and all his heat flooding through you.

When he rolls his hips in a grunt and his tip touches exactly your swollen clit in need of release.

His hands run along your waist and thighs as he lifts both of your legs and places them around his torso, feeling him sink more easily inside you.

"You're so hot, baby. So fucking perfect," he growls against your lips, closing his eye and rests his forehead with yours as he begins his swaying hips back and forth.

"You're so deep," you moan, clinging to his back, lightly digging your nails into his pale skin.

This makes Aemond grunt and feel more desperation as he begins to penetrate you with more rhythm, all the way in, with hard movements that hit exactly that spot inside you that makes you squirm beneath him.

"Yes Aemond, right there," you moan.

"Yeah? Do you like it, baby?"

"Yes, fuck, yes."

You both gasp into each other's mouths, where then his dark gaze returns to your features and he watches you intently, never ceasing to slam his hips hard and deep against you.

"You're mine now, you know that, don't you?" he asks you in a low, husky tone.

His words only make you clench tighter around him and you feel yourself slowly reaching your limit, each onslaught sending delicious waves all over your core that soothes your needy pussy.

"Say it," he demands forcefully, only this time to plunge your cock back into your wet pussy with a hard onslaught that knocks the air out of you, "Say you're mine."

"Yes," you gasp, "Yes, Aemond. I am yours," you manage to say it, "I am completely yours."

He smiles complacently and contentedly, never ceasing to move for a moment.

"Yes, you are," he croons, "You. Are. Mine," he rams you hard to the hilt on every accentuation, not giving you time to anticipate it, making you moan loudly in pleasure and pain, "And I don't fucking share."

He brings his lips back to your skin, marking and sucking on your breasts and neck even with his heavy cock inside you, fucking you hard and grunting against your ear telling you how tight you are.

He takes you completely over the edge, where your mind goes blank with each thrust, filling you completely, swelling inside you, as both you and he begin to gasp for breath, but he doesn't slow down or change his pace, continuing to penetrate you and press you against your bed.

Until finally everything inside you explodes, you see stars behind your eyes and Aemond's warm semen fills everything inside you, coming with an almost painful grunt in your ear and with a last strong thrust that leaves you drunk with pleasure and makes you forget everything for a moment.

Things didn't end with Aemond there, not at all.

He was honest with you when he told you that he wouldn't hurt you or make you just another girl on his list, just as he was honest in telling you that you are now his and he doesn't share.

After that day in your room, the little secret affair began.

When Aemond comes to your house along with Aegon, you both behave towards each other as you were before, completely indifferent.

However, you and especially he are not entirely patient, so once you reach your limit, he secretly intercepts you in one of the empty classrooms or labs and you take advantage of that little moment as much as possible.

You don't even speak to each other and avoid as much as possible to look each other, where no one suspects the two of you. And at school it's the same, although especially there you have to be more careful.

Even in the library, you both find a secluded corner between the shelves of books and can't keep your hands off each other, where Aemond makes you come on his fingers and sometimes you also dare to suck his cock, hoping not to be discovered.

As far as you know, he has not been seen with other and his usual girls, since almost all the time the two of you are texting each other and sometimes, when Cregan is not at home, you let him know and he comes as fast as he can, not missing the opportunity.

Already being in the four walls of your room, the two of you can do whatever you want without fear of being discovered, where Aemond fucks you against your mattress in all positions.

And sometimes, when things have not been in favor of either of you, he climbs through your window at midnight and unable to hold back any longer, he fucks you silently, silencing your moans with his mouth, hands or cock, since Cregan's room is at the end of the hallway.

And this lasts for a while, all in secret, where you look for small moments to share intimate moments, hidden caresses and soft whispers in your ear that only you and he can hear.

But of course, the good things can't last forever.

Jason Lannister, a friend of Cregan's, throws a Halloween party at his house and practically the entire school has been invited. So you see this as an opportunity to be able to be with Aemond for a few moments of the party.

Cregan dresses up as a wizard and you choose to dress up as a sexy sailor girl with a skirt that exposes your legs, a simple white blouse, you put on your tie and also your hat, and then you and Cregan head off to the party.

You immediately look for Aemond, but he is nowhere to be seen, even though you meet Aegon and his younger brother, Daeron.

However, not to be obvious, you start pouring yourself drinks and talking to your friends, starting to get into the same mood as everyone else because of the music with twinkling lights and also because of the whole decorated house.

You see Aegon talking to Cassandra Baratheon, dresses up as a vampire and she as an angel, then you see Alysanne talking to your brother, dresses up as a bunny, and then you keep looking around the party, not understanding where Aemond is.

You are about to send him a message, when you look absentmindedly towards the kitchen and then, there he finally is, only he is not alone.

Dresses up as a pirate, Aemond is chatting with his ex-girlfriend, the gorgeous Alys Rivers, dresses up as a witch.

You had been enjoying the party, but your mood inevitably changes and also without being able to help it, you feel a twinge of jealousy all over your insides, watching them intently.

They both talk, she occasionally laughs and places her hand on his chest, playfully smacking it, both of them too close, while you see Aemond's grin on his lips at all times, making the knot of jealousy in your stomach tighter.

And, you mean, you can't even blame him, she's Alys Rivers.

When then at that moment your gaze crosses his casually, who slowly wipes away his smile, but you quickly avert your gaze from him as you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to act nonchalant.

But too late, he's already noticed your annoyed look.

However, you quickly make room with Aegon, Cassandra and Daeron, simply to dissemble in front of them and him as well. Then Cregan and Alysanne join in and of course so does he, but you don't even notice him and continue drinking.

You notice how he wants to approach you slyly on a few occasions, but you don't let him, you continue to laugh with Daeron, ignoring him altogether, not wanting to talk or be with him anymore.

Until the hour starts to get late and taking advantage of the fact that one of your friends is already leaving, you ask her to drop you off at your house and she accepts. You just tell Cregan, who nods and you leave the party with your friend.

And once you get home, you take off your costume, take a shower and get ready to sleep, although you should have expected Aemond to start calling you, but you send it to voicemail.

He calls you a couple of times more where you don't answer and you also get severe messages from him that you don't read, to finally leave your phone on mute and try to sleep.

But you barely last a few minutes with your eyes closed, suddenly you hear some sounds at your window.

You sit up confused in your bed, looking at your window, instantly knowing what it is or rather who it is, since only one person has the habit of doing this and you let out a long resigned breath.

Reluctantly you open your curtains and the window, where the figure of Aemond stands down there, watching you confused and attentive.

"What are you doing?" you reproach him sleepily.

"You're not answering my calls or texts," he tells you with some anger in his tone of voice, "And you ignored me the whole party."

You press your lips together in anger as well.

"It semeed to me like you were too busy," you can't help but say with some bitterness.

He lets out a sigh, lowering his gaze for a moment.

"It's not what you thin—

"No matter. Go home. I want to sleep," you cut him off, intending to turn away from your window.

"I swear to God Y/N, I'm not leaving until you listen to me," he warns you.

"It's after midnight!" you reproach him.

"Open the door," he demands.

"No," you say firmly.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

"I don't care."

"Y/N," he warns you again.

"Stay there all night, I'm not opening for you."

You sentence and finally move away from the window, close it and close your curtains as well.

Feeling no remorse, you settle back into your bed, ready to sleep again, but only a few seconds pass when you hear noise again.

And that's when you realize you should have locked your windows.

You startle and turn your head to watch how Aemond is entering through your windows with the same agility as always, with a serious and threatening look, jumping into your room and you look at him angrily.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"You don't know what you just got yourself into," he says as he makes his way towards you.

"Fuck you," you spit back at him.

"Oh yeah, I just pretend to do that, princess."

"Alys wasn't available at this time that you decided to come and play with me?"

He lets out a long breath, rolling his eye.

"You're getting it all wrong—

"Oh I am?" you inquire, "She's your fucking ex, Aemond. I'm not stupid."

"In fact yes, you are being stupid right now, " he says, coming towards you.

And just before you can escape, he catches you, instantly grabbing you by both wrists, cornering you between him and your bed, climbing on top of you with a mischievous, menacing grin and his pupil fully dilated.

"Let go of me," you gasp, trying to shake him off.

"Listen to me—

"I mean it, get off me and get the fuck out of my house!"

He cocks his head.

"Where did this bratty attitude come from, hm?"

"Aemond," you plead, "Stop it."

"Oh baby," he croons, bringing his lips to your ear, "Can't you see? Can't you see how fucking crazy I am about you?" he murmurs hoarsely.

You try to fight your own urges, telling yourself that you shouldn't let yourself get carried away by him, that he can talk and fuck whoever he wants, while you are only exclusively for him and these are just empty words to convince you.

"Alys and I ended on good terms, we're just friends, it's nothing to worry about," he says earnestly in your ear, as your breath is cut short when you feel his knee make its way between your legs.

"Aemond," you whine.

"But if you want me to stop talking to her, fine, I will," he murmurs in understanding, only to feel his knee press lightly into your pussy, making you moan.

"Oh, A-aemond-" you try to say, feeling so good.

"Yeah, baby? What's wrong? Does it feel good?"

You can't formulate words, especially when he puts more pressure and makes you gasp more, just that making you feel good, only to then feel him drop almost his weight against you and now positioning himself between your legs, he starts rubbing his hard cock inside his pants against you, making you shudder.

Now he gasps along with you, as he lets go of your wrists and slides one of his hands under your shirt, kneading one of your breasts with ease as you sleep without a bra.

You arch your back against him and bite your bottom lip as he begins to leave soft kisses down your neck, never letting go of your touch and never stopping rubbing against you.

"Please, Aemond, please," you beg him, needing him.

He marks the skin of your neck, sucking and sucking, then brings his lips back to your ear.

You bring one of your hands to his face and turn him towards you, kissing him with need and depth where he responds in kind, where you are completely delighted by his caresses and words.

"Now do you get it, princess?" he says hoarsely, "You're the only one who can make me play this fucking game of hide and seek with your brother and everyone else."

He says honestly, making you moan as he puts more pressure on his hips.

"But you know what? I've had enough and I don't fucking care if Cregan bothers or not. I don't give a shit."

And that night Aemond fucks you from behind, hard and fast, while you hold the sheets tightly under you and avoid shushing your sobs and moans too loudly against the pillow, as every time you do, Aemond gives you a hard spank with his hand on one of your ass cheeks as a way of punishment for your bratty attitude earlier.

And he doesn't give you a chance to silence your moans as he gathers all your hair into a fist and makes your back arch, while his other hand takes it to hold your throat firmly and rests his cheek against yours to fuck you with more accessibility, fast and deep, bringing you to the peak several times.

And when it's all over, you melt into the arms of your perfect, official boyfriend.

thank you so much for reading!❤

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond one shot

[shadeysprings]

Eyes of the Devil

—Boss!Andy Barber x Assistant!F!Reader

Summary — Happiness blinds you from the horror that looms around the corner.

Warnings — noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, forced oral (m receiving), betrayal, blackmailing, cumshot to the face and implied kidnapping if you squint. Mean!Andy is present.

Word Count — 2.7K

A/N — My first entry for @thebasementspouses The 12 Men of Christmas Writing Challenge. This is also the first time I'm writing for Andy. And honestly it was hard yet fun ^^ Should you expect more Andy from me in the future? Fuck yeah.

Shoutout to my betas by @vellicore and @lunarbuck. But all mistakes are mine alone.

Gif by @barneswilsonrogers

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Once again, you’re burning the midnight oil.

With the holidays fast approaching, Dolores in accounting has you working double time on filing the pending paperwork that needs to be audited before the year ends. Even so, it’s work you don’t mind—you have nowhere to be and no one to see, your cubicle serving as a fortress, your home away from home. 

“Aren’t you heading out yet?” You look up from your computer to see Mr. Barber smiling down at you, his coat hanging from his arm where the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up his elbows. He already looks run down from the day’s work, yet he still manages to be chipper. 

“Just finishing up on some tasks, Mr. Barber.” You respond with a smile. “I’ll get going as soon as I’m done.”

“Is that the year end report?”

You nod and hold back the sigh that wants to escape. “Dolores doesn’t want to wait until the last minute to finish it so she’s asking for the report 3 weeks in advance.”

“Seems a bit early, don’t you think?” You think he’s talking to you, but his eyes are cast down, his lips twisted in thought. He must have forgotten that he approved her early leave, yet you don’t find it in you to correct him. “Well, you take it easy then. I wouldn’t want you getting too worked up over it.” Your boss says, concern laced in his voice. “Just finish what you can. And if there is anything I can help you with, you just say the word.”

“Don’t worry, Sir. I have everything I need—just have to double check then compile them before sending them off to her.” The assurance you give seems to placate him, and you feel a sense of joy that you see him about to take off. 

Not that you don’t enjoy talking to your boss; he’s the only one, aside from the other department heads, you interact with on a daily basis. But he’s still the CEO, and you can’t help but think about his rank and see him as a superior, even in an informal setting. 

“Very well. I’ll leave you to it.” He says, the smile once more present on his lips. But before he leaves, he adds, “Oh, before I forget,” Mr. Barber places a festive paper bag on top of your desk, one you failed to notice him holding when he passed by your desk. “Merry Christmas.”

A gift. Something you never expected to receive from your boss.

“Oh, you didn’t have to bother, Sir.” You tell him as you stare at the bag in awe. A plain white box is nestled between the sheets of pink and purple paper when you peek inside.

“It’s really no trouble. Just a little something I picked up from my overseas trip last week.” He explains, the smile on his face seemingly growing wider, more playful, something you’ve never seen on him before. “I hope you like it.”

You return his smile. “I’m sure I would, Sir. Thank you.” 

A snow globe. That’s what Mr. Barber gave you. 

But it isn’t just any snow globe, no. It is a limited edition collectible of your favorite cartoon character. You don’t even know how he got his hands on one, with it being sold out within minutes of being released, or how he even knew it was your favorite—probably from the small figurines you keep on your desk—but you feel elated just by looking at it. 

You examine it with excited hands, curious at the button that sits underneath the base. They never advertised it as something electronic. You press the button, and to your surprise, a soft melody plays as the faux snow within blows on its own, making it even more magical than you thought it to be. A tiny blue light at the chest of the character begins  blinking along with the tune, a squeal of glee leaving your lips. 

It has you thinking of buying him a really good present, one of equal value to the one he’s given.

With a smile, you stow away the packaging and set the snow globe on the shelf where you keep the rest of your collection. This one, though, has a special place at the center of all the others, the star of the show as it should be.

You stare at your computer in shock. 

The image of you naked in bed, one hand on your tit, and the other grasping a toy with the other end buried in your cunt with your face twisted in pleasure. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you immediately close the image, looking around to see if anyone witnessed it as well. But no one resides on this side of the floor aside from you and Mr. Barber.

Panic rises in your throat as you try to think who sent it to you. But most importantly, how they got such a picture of you in the privacy of your own home. 

Your computer pings once more, and your stomach turns when you see the same unknown email address pop up from the corner of your screen. You don’t dare open it, too afraid of its contents. Instead, you delete it, even empty out the trash all the same to completely purge it from existence. 

Beads of sweat form at your nape, the beating of your heart growing heavier by the second as the fear continues to bloom in your chest. What do they want? Why are they doing this to me? The thoughts swirl in your head, and all you can think about after is going home to hide. But you can’t; they’ve made it known to you that the place that should be the safest no longer is. They only have footage of you in your room, but it isn’t certain that they don’t have eyes in other parts of your apartment.

“Do you have a moment?”

Mr. Barber’s voice startles you, making you sit up straight  in your seat and look up at him with wide eyes. The smile on his face dwindles and turns into a curious frown, most likely recognizing the trepidation painted on yours.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, worry laced in his voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uhh—yes, Sir. I just—I think my breakfast isn’t sitting well in my stomach.” You lie, but you’d rather let your boss know that you’re about to shit your pants than telling him the truth.

“Maybe some soda would help? Or I think Angie in HR has some medicine you can take.”

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll figure it out.” You tell him, forcing a smile to hopefully stop him from prying any further. “Did you need help with something?”

As if remembering what he came to you for, he says, “Ah, yes. I actually do.” Pulling away from your cubicle, he adds, “I made some changes to my itinerary for my business trip—I was hoping to run them by you.” But there’s still apprehension visible around him as he makes his request known. “Do you have time to come to my office? Or do you want to grab some fresh air first?” 

You want to say yes, to deal with your anonymous harasser head-on, but deep down, you know you can’t. The fear would only grip you tighter and render you useless for the entire day, and the last thing you want is to show your boss an ounce of incompetence and a chance for him to ask what’s running in your head. 

“No.” You respond, already standing from your seat. “I can step out after our discussion.” Grabbing the folder you compiled for his trip and snatching your notepad from your desk, you follow him back to his office.

Work will help you take your mind off of things.

“Lock the door, please.” Mr. Barber instructs, and you do as you’re told. “If you can just take note of the new arrangements I made.” You step over to the side of his desk, taking the sheet of paper he holds out to you.

Yet shock grips you once more when you look down at it, your hands shaking as the sheet he gave you has the image that was sent to you earlier printed on it.

“You—”

“You scream and I’ll send it to the entire office.” Mr. Barber says, his concern from earlier is now gone and replaced with something vile as he looks up at you from where he’s seated. “So be a good girl and kneel.”

You don’t understand what’s happening. How did he get a hold of this picture? Was he sent the same email? Has your harasser already done the unthinkable, and your boss is using it to his advantage? Unless—

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Sweetheart.” From the way he says it, you know it’s a threat, and the one he said earlier circles in your head that you quickly obey, placing the folders in your hands atop his desk and getting down on your knees. You watch him with fear as he rolls his chair closer, trapping you between his thick thighs.

“Sir, what’s g—”

“Did I say you could speak?” Mr. Barber scolds, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forcing you to look up at him, his sapphire eyes looking darker than you recall. “You do what I say when I say and that includes talking, am I clear?” His words weigh heavy in the air, and you can do nothing but nod your head in agreement. “Good girl. We don’t want the entire company receiving such a scandalous Christmas present, do we?”

You shake your head, too afraid to speak, knowing he hasn’t permitted you to do so. 

A sinister smirk forms on his lips, and you keep your eyes on the button of his white shirt when he releases your face. You swallow thickly in fear, already knowing what comes next, what he would have you do as his hands fumble with the buckle of his belt and the zip of his pants. 

He groans low, the sound, although soft, echoing loudly in your ear when he pulls his cock free of its confines. It’s already stiff from what you can see, with precum beading at the tip. You shiver when he places a hand on your shoulder, fingers tapping, caressing the fabric of your chiffon blouse before he wraps them around the back of your neck.

“If you can fuck yourself with that toy, I’m sure you know how to suck a cock.” He utters, his other hand taking his length and tapping the tip gently against your lips. “Think of this as a performance review. You please me well enough, I might just give you a raise.” It’s a challenge, one you know you have no way of winning.

With shaky hands, you take his cock from him and stroke it a few times. Fear envelops you, the small space he’s trapped you in rendering you claustrophobic that you feel the pounding of your chest right at your ears. Slowly, you part your lips and wrap them around the tip, disgust rolling in your stomach as the pad of your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. 

But all of a sudden, he pushes your head down, forcing you to take the entirety of his cock. Tears pool in your eyes when he hits the barrier of your throat, choking around him. You try to pull away, doing your best to breathe through your nose while you push a hand against his stomach and the other slapping onto his thigh. 

You want to pull away, to spit him out and endure the humiliation of having your colleagues see the vulgar image, but Mr. Barber—no! He deserves no respect! But Andy is being forceful, keeping his hand around your nape and holding you down longer. Until finally, he lets go, and you gasp for air as you pull him away from your mouth, spit dripping while you cough profusely from the roughness he’s bestowed.

“Come on, Sweetheart,” He says between chuckles, taking you by the back of your head this time and pushing you back between his thighs. “We’re just getting started.”

He doesn’t even give you enough time to recover from his assault when he drives his cock back into your mouth, the saliva gathered at your tongue serving as lubricant, one he uses to his advantage as he pilots your head up and down against him. 

His groans of pleasure fill the expanse of his office, mixed with your muffled grunts of revulsion and torment. Though you do nothing to fight back, afraid of the consequences you’ll suffer if you do and choose to endure his depravity, to allow him to use you as he so desires.

“Did you like my gift?” He says between shaky breaths. “I knew it was perfect.” 

The snow globe! But why?! Why is he doing this to you?!

Shutting your eyes tight, you do your best to shut him out, to think of someone else, someone from your past who’s receiving the lustful deed of your mouth. But the way he says your name, the ways his voice continues to permeate your senses, makes it all too difficult. That it’s only Andy you feel, Andy who controls. 

Tears stream down your face when he takes hold of your face with both his hands. Instead of guiding your head the way he wishes, he fucks your mouth with reckless thrusts. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I saw you playing with yourself.” He says between grunts. “Couldn’t stop thinking of what else you could do.” Once, twice, several more times, the tip of his cock hits your throat. You stop yourself from gagging, staying strong to please him and deciding to pleasure him, hollowing your cheeks and caressing the veins of his cock with your tongue. 

If he finishes soon, your torment will be done as well. 

Placing your hands over his, you move to your own volition—much to his surprise when you hear the grunt from his chest and the way he frees you from his hold. You take more of him, all of him, one hand reaching to caress his balls while the other strokes what you no longer fit in your mouth. You even moan for added effect to make him believe that you enjoy what he’s thrust you into and that you share in his pleasure—one you can confirm when you feel him throb between your lips.

But once again, he surprises you, gasping when he pushes you off of him, yet his hand returns to the back of your neck, keeping you in place. 

“Open your mouth. Eyes on me.” He commands, and you do as you are told. Sapphires look down on you, even darker than before, and you hang your tongue like a dog while he takes his cock tight in his hand and strokes himself fast. Within seconds, he lets out a garbled grunt, and you close your eyes in horror when hot strings of white shoot out of him and paint your lips as well as your cheeks.

You’re crying once again, confusion swirling in your head. He played you for a fool—infiltrated the safety of your home without even so much as trying, because you let him in. But you fail to understand why. Why he’s treating you this way, why he even thought about treating you like this. 

You think he’s done when he leans back in his seat and loosens his hold on himself. But that’s far from it. Andy chuckles, deep and dark, pressing the tip against his come and smears it over your lips, pushing it once more into your mouth. 

“Swallow.” Another command. “Suck me clean.”

And you do. The warmth of his seed scalding your throat, and you fight the bile that rises in return.

“I already booked your holiday leave,” Andy says breathily with a sinister grin, his thumb rubbing at the back of your neck.

You look at him with wide, fearful and curious eyes. What? Holiday leave? But you never booked one. 

His laughter then fills your ears, seemingly sensing your distress. “It’s the changes to my business trip—you’ll be accompanying me.” He answers, slipping his cock out and taking your chin, rubbing his thumb against your lower lip that’s still sticky with his come. “I need all the time I could get to see if your cunt feels as great as your mouth.”

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber #dark andy barber #eyes of the devil #tbschristmaschallenge #defending jacob #chris evans characters #shadeysprings fics

[silens-oro]

Spoils of War: 7. The Wheel

Aemond Targaryen x F!Targaryen!Reader Minor side relationships with the reader will be present throughout this.

Spoils of War Masterlist Masterlist

Synopsis: The Wheel of War begins to turn.

Word Count: ~18k (absolutely absurd)

General Warning: 18+. POTENTIAL SPOILERS FOR UPCOMING HOTD EPISODES. Targaryen uncle/niece incest (lite, nothing truly weird other than they are both Targaryens), blood, gore, murder, child murder, animal sacrifice (not really but I'm warning still), nudity, ptsd, mention of r*ape (none occurs). Let me know if I've missed any!

AN: This took way longer to finish than I anticipated it would. By the time I finished writing, this chapter was over 20k words. I had to do some major edits, and throw some of the bulk into the next chapter. I've adored the feedback I've received on this story, so please keep sending it in! From this point forward, it is going to get very messy, very quickly. Thank you all for reading! This story is a literal labor of love that has taken many, many weeks of writing DAILY and editing to get to this point. I've never felt the attachment to anything I've written like I feel to this story, so I hope you're all enjoying it as much as I am.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.

A putrid smell hit Aemond’s nostrils as he stepped down the staircase leading to the dungeon. It smelled of death and decay, and was absolutely unmistakable. A stone catapulted to the pit of his stomach, the dread that seeped through him was enough to make him sick if the smell alone didn’t. 

Aemond had been absent for the last week due to princely duties as his grandsire called them. They were nothing more than to show the might of Vhagar to those who toed the line of support to the Green’s cause. Duty was duty, nonetheless, but Aemond could not return to you quick enough. 

The first thought he had as he entered the dungeon was that you perished, by your own hand most likely. His Shadow, as she had done in his absences previous, was supposed to check in on you nightly. By the smell, the decay was days along. His Shadow probably feared what he would do should he find out his beloved had accomplished what he tried so hard to prevent. She was right, of course. No death would be quick enough for her, and he would find her -he promised himself. He’d skin the little wretch alive with his bare hands when he caught her. 

Aemond kept his torch in front of himself to illuminate the stale darkness. A squelching noise was the first sound to meet his keen ears. It was faint, but present. He brought the sleeve of his coat to his nose to alleviate some of the stench that permeated the air. It was sickly sweet and rancid with a copper tinge to it that turned his stomach. His feet moved quickly over the dusty floor to reach your cell.

Aemond saw that the door to the cell was ajar before the rest of the cell came into view. His heart pounded as he stopped at the foot of it. A body, swarmed with devouring rats, was on the floor. Dark, clotted blood surrounded it as the rats munched at what was left of the soft tissue of the person’s legs and innards. The face was covered by your wool blanket, seemingly untouched by the vermin.

As Aemond crouched down with the torch, the rats scurried in all directions -squealing at the intrusion- but a rat with a stump for a paw stood in the furthest corner, watching his every move. 

Aemond quickly tossed the blanket from the body and relief immediately filled him when he saw dark hair in place of Targaryen silver, but that relief quickly turned to rage and anxiety. He stood swiftly, kicking the dirty blanket to the side.

“Idiot girl!” He seethed at the body, breathing heavily. He brought a hand to his head and paced to sooth his growing panic.

His hand ran down his face as he glared at the decaying body of his Shadow with absolute hatred filling his eye. His angular mouth was set in a sneer at the reality that was facing him. So many thoughts and questions swirled through his mind as he tried to piece together what had happened. How did you lure his Shadow into the cell? How did you break free? How did you escape from the dungeon without being seen? 

Aemond’s eyes caught sight of your open shackles and the single key that lay discarded on the ground next to them. His eye narrowed and he looked down at the girl once more. He could see bloody slits in the girl’s shirt where the rats hadn’t chewed through quite yet. 

She had a weapon, he thought. She did not escape on her own. 

The next thought he had was what would happen if you made it out of King’s Landing. Surely you’d return to Dragonstone -back to your father. Ravens would surely descend upon the Keep, alerting his mother of what he had done. That the Princess was alive and had been alive this whole time. Whatever her reaction would be, his grandsire’s would surely be thrice as bad. 

The tendrils of madness scratched at the far corners of his mind as he tried to think five steps ahead. 

If he had stolen you once, he would most assuredly be able to do it again. You were his, after all. 

Aemond loathed the filth of Flea Bottom, and once more he was in search of someone hiding amongst the shit, piss, and rats. He hoped you hadn’t gone too far and that you were still holed up somewhere in the city. If you were, he’d be able to flush you out. 

Though his hood was covering his face, he did not blend in. His face was easily recognizable and it only took one single person to stop him in his tracks. 

“Have you lost something, my Prince?” A woman spoke brazenly as she stepped out of a doorway he passed. Her eyes were reminiscent of a snake’s as they zeroed in on him. Aemond had half a mind to ignore the woman, but something about the way she looked at him let him know she knew exactly who he was looking for.  

“Perhaps.” He did not give the woman more than that. 

“Perhaps,” She mirrored with an arch of her brow. “Is it a bird that has escaped its cage?” She asked coyly. “It…is…a bird you are looking for, my Prince?” Aemond’s eye turned to a slit. 

“A bird?”

“Hm…swore I saw a little wren fly to the ports not six nights past. However, if it is not a wren you are looking for, I apologize for the interruption, my Prince. I wish you luck in your endeavor.” She bowed and turned to recede back into the darkness of the pitiful dwelling, but Aemond was quick to stop her. She turned her chin over her shoulder and raised a sparse brow at him. 

“…What do you know of this…wren?” The woman grinned and nodded for him to follow behind her. Aemond looked around him, deeming the coast clear of any onlookers, and followed her in. 

Aemond returned to the Red Keep after dark with no further luck on your current whereabouts, other than you had fled on a ship in the cover of night with a handful of Northerners. 

The Warden of the North came to fetch his bride, was what the woman told him. The words alone nearly set him into a rage. He was so careful, so very careful to keep your whereabouts a secret, and now it was all for naught. 

Aemond’s anxiety peaked when he entered the Keep as he was met with absolute chaos. Guards were stationed at every entrance, at every staircase. They were stationed at every “secret” entrance and all had their eyes on the lookout. For what, he didn’t know.

“The Queen Dowager requests your presence at once, my Prince.” A guard fetched Aemond as he saw the Prince stride into the Keep. “It is of the utmost urgency.” 

A new mess to clean up, no doubt, he thought to himself with a roll of his eye. He turned on his heel to follow the guard to his mother’s solar where he could hear an awful wailing from within as he turned down the hall. Aemond’s brows furrowed when he opened the door, and his jaw nearly hit the floor at what he saw inside. 

The man who carried you through King’s Landing helped you step off the ship and onto the docks of Dragonstone. Once your feet hit the solid wood, you took a breath to center yourself. It took a moment to stabilize yourself on shaky legs as he held onto your arms. 

“Can you walk?” The man asked, his voice deep and his northern accent thick. Looking up into his dark eyes, you nodded with a grateful smile. 

“Thank you.” You whispered sincerely. Thank you for pulling me out of the dungeon. Thank you for carrying me through King’s Landing. Thank you for delivering me home. 

“You are most welcome, Princess.” For the first time, he gave you a kind smile and a nod. His gaze moved over your head and you turned to follow where he was looking. 

There, at the beginning of the dock, stood your father with Ser Erryk and Ser Lorent. Your father’s hair blew with the breeze and painted a serene portrait of ferocity and stateliness. Your legs were moving towards him before your brain could catch up. Once your eyes connected with his, your father rushed down the docks with long, hurried steps to meet you in the middle. His arms wrapped you in an embrace that you wished to never part from. 

He held you -oh he held you. He squeezed you to him as hard as he could as you sobbed into his chest. His scent that was undeniably home wafted into your senses and it all became too much too soon. Your father’s outward display of affection, in front of such an audience, was a rarity and it told you just how dire your disappearance was to him. 

Your rescuers stayed back to let you have your moment with your father. 

“There are horses and provisions ready for your journey,” Your father motioned to the top of the dunes. “For Lord Stark,” He held a scroll out. 

“Can they not rest here for the night, father?” You questioned. Surely those who risked their necks for you deserved a moment to breathe. 

“We thank you for the extension, my Princess, but we do have a long journey ahead of us. We must reach the North before the worst of winter hits if we are to make the journey in as little time as possible.” The woman spoke as she walked up to take the scroll and secure it in the satchel around her shoulder. 

“This will not be forgotten.” Your father stated, his eyes holding contact with the woman. She merely nodded with a small grin and bowed. The man who carried you followed suit, and the rest of the men on the boat followed silently as they trailed behind.  

“My girl.” Your father spoke in your native tongue as he held your face in his hands, looking you up and down to survey the damage that had been done, noting just how shattered the light in your eyes had become. “What has he done to you?” His voice shook. Never, not once in your life, had you heard his voice tremble. He pulled you into his chest once more.  

You shook your head as you held onto him with everything you had. The warmth of your father’s embrace was a comforting security blanket. Nothing and no one could harm you from within his arms. 

You longed for your bed with each step you took. An awful pain grew in the back of your eyes as you were led through the archway that opened into the Keep. The sights and sounds of the world outside of your cell were overwhelming -even still, weeks later. You rubbed at your eyes as you followed behind your father. The instant change from sunlight to shadow was a relief.

Jaws dropped as you passed by servants and guards. You noted a handmaid scurry to the western wing, no doubt to spread the news of your resurrection. 

You must’ve looked a sight. Dressed in an oversized tunic and trousers that were fastened to your waist with a strand of rope, as well as some boots that were clearly a size too big on your feet. Your clothes alone were well below your station, but they were clean and that was more than you had in that cell for weeks at a time. 

The mess of hair on your head was another story entirely. The salty air and briney water were not kind to it. You hadn’t a clue what your own face looked like. While you had bathed on the small vessel, you did not dare look upon your own reflection in the water. Though the temptation was there, you did not know if your mind could survive looking upon the monster that would surely be looking back. 

Your father led you up to the council chambers. The room, to your surprise, was empty as you entered. Natural light filtered in from the high windows, but that was all that gave life to the otherwise dark room. 

“Sit.” Your father instructed, motioning to the chair at the furthest end of the table. He then nodded to both Queen’s Guards and they set off in opposite directions. A heavy silence overtook the room. Not a single thought flowed through your mind as your father paced for a moment before dropping down into a squat beside your knee. 

His eyes held yours in a hypnotizing stare. “I have never felt more relief than I did when you stepped off that ship, byka hontes.” Birdie. It was a nickname you hadn’t heard since you were a child. Your love for the skies at such a young age had graced you with the moniker by your father and your father alone. 

As you grew older, he began to treat you more and more like a Princess grown and less like the perpetually small child that clinged onto his legs, and the name soon faded into the deep recesses of your mind until it was merely a memory lost to time. 

Daemon’s hands gently held your scabbed wrists, his thumbs rubbing the puffy, pink scars where the scabs had fallen. “Aemond held you in irons?” You nodded, breaking the eye contact between you. 

“He was adamant on keeping me under lock and key…until the war ended, anyway. My shackles would only then be metaphorical.” Your father wanted to tell you he saw this coming -the look in his eyes said as much. As happy as he was to have you within reach once more, it was also in his nature to boast when his warnings were not heeded. Surprising you, he did not so much as utter the words ‘I told you so’. Instead, he decided to speak on something so much worse.

“I am asking this before anyone else enters this room, and it shall never be brought up again if you so wish it, but I must know…” Your eyes turned to look into his once more. “Did Aemond force himself on you?” Your face melted into a look of disgust. 

“My maidenhead is the first thing you question? After all I’ve been through? After all we’ve lost?” Anger began to build. Daemon shook his head, holding a hand out to keep you seated. His brows were furrowed in irritation.

“No, you silly girl.” The term ‘silly girl’ was never used teasingly when he called you it, and it always struck a nerve when he said it. “I worry for you. I don’t give two shits about your maidenhead.” He returned just as angrily. “I wish to know if my daughter was defiled, if there is a chance that you carry that cunt’s seed in your womb. It will be dealt with if he did, rest assured.” Your stomach clenched at the thought. Your anger had passed on to something along the lines of anxiety as you shook your head. 

“He did not, and he would not.” You answered stoically. “Aemond would not force himself on anyone, much less me, father. In that I can promise you. There were plenty of opportunities and not once did he attempt it.” Where Aemond drew the line between what he believed would be acceptable and unacceptable in the eyes of the Seven baffled you as his own morals were so wildly skewed.

“You think he is incapable of such depravity?” The question was asked as if you were stupid, naive. A silly girl.

“I think any man is capable of such depravity, but I know he would not do it, much less do it to me.” You said adamantly. 

“There was also a time when you didn’t think it was in his character to cause you harm, to hold you in chains.” He responded point blank. “And yet your brother is dead, you were taken, and we’ve lost two dragons. Because of him!” He raised his voice. “Tell me once more how well you know him!” Your eyes narrowed and a deep frown sat heavily upon your mouth. You did not blame your father for how he lashed out, not after what he and your mother had surely dealt with -are still dealing with. It still hurt, nonetheless.

“I am not defending him, father. You asked a question and I gave you my answer. You need not remind me of what has been lost. I was there. I saw it. I felt it. I heard it.” You stated defiantly. “I harbor enough guilt in my heart that I do not need to be lectured on it.” You were tired -exhausted- and his line of questioning was beginning to eat away at your patience. 

A gasp from the top of the staircase broke the growing tension. Your father stood upright, but did not move from his place next to you. You also stood in respect to your Queen Mother. She held onto Ser Erryk’s arm to keep herself from teetering over in shock. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked upon you. You noted the look of horror that crossed her face as she got a good look at your own the closer she crept. Her eyes shifted between you and Daemon, then back to you. Ser Erryk assisted her down the stairs and once she reached the bottom, she tore towards you in a flurry. 

Rhaenyra pulled you to her, sobbing into your shoulder as she held you. 

“My child!” She wailed, whispering your name over and over. You held her tightly, anchoring her to the floor in reassurance that you weren’t a figment of her imagination. Your father brought a hand to her back and rubbed soothing circles between her shoulders. She pulled back, looking between you and your father with a thousand questions fluttering within her eyes. “How?” Was the only one that she could physically ask. You looked to your father.

“I would also like to know.” 

Your father had given his own explanation of what transpired. Jace had acquired the likes of your future Lord Husband, Cregan Stark, to locate you based on a feeling in Jace’s gut that you were not dead. That silly, little feeling that Jace held on to, that Cregan Stark believed in, is the reason why you were sat at the Painted Table, free of your shackles and free of Aemond. 

And so, you told your parents everything. Every little detail from your less than pleasant visit to Storm’s End, to Luke’s murder, to your brutal capture and the subsequent death of Maestron. You told them of your time in the pitch black darkness of the abandoned dungeon of the Red Keep, and of Aemond’s shadow. You told them of your hunger strike and how Aemond and his shadow held you down and force fed you until you could not breathe. 

Your father paced back and forth like a caged lion as you retold your tale, and you noted the look of surprise and pride when you mentioned how you tricked Aemond’s Shadow into opening your cell and how she met an end she was worthy of. 

Your mother sat silently with tears of rage falling endlessly as you recounted every detail that had been unknown to them until this very moment.. 

“Did Alicent know you were there?” She questioned, her lips set in a firm line. 

“Aemond made it clear, and he could’ve been lying, but his shadow was the only other person who knew I was down there.” You picked at one of your broken fingernails, hissing when it splintered just a little too far up.

“If there were any families sitting on the fence, they won’t be anymore.” Your father spoke as he stopped to lean on the table. “The true Princess of the Realm held captive in a dungeon by her crazed kinslayer uncle? Their backs will turn on the Greens in an instant.”

“I see you are ever so quick to jump at the opportunity.” Your mother spat. “Can we not have a mere fucking moment to appreciate that our daughter is still with us?” You sat silently, not surprised by your father’s behavior. You’ve seen the best and the worst of him throughout your life. You knew the man inside and out, and you knew he loved you, but he was also a Targaryen Prince and with that came a certain type of tenacity that did not sit well with most.   

“Your Grace,” Ser Erryk interrupted as he came back down the stairs to the first landing. “Apologies for the interruption, but Blood has returned.” 

“Bring him in.” Your father commanded with a nefarious grin. Ser Erryk looked to his Queen, who merely nodded, and he turned to fetch whoever this ‘Blood’ was. “Aemond was stupid enough to draw first blood.” Your father explained after seeing confusion cross your features. “Now his family is feeling what ours has.”

Blood was a tall man, massive, wide, and imposing as he calmly took each step into the council room. His cragged face was adorned with a large scar trailing from his left eyebrow all the way past his jawline. His dark eyes were wide and absolutely terrifying when they met yours. A crooked grin stretched his lips when he saw you shift back in your chair. He had the largest arms you had ever seen on a man and you were certain he could snap your neck in an instant if he so wanted to. There was an air of darkness that shrouded him and the sack he carried over his shoulder. 

Ser Erryk kept a close distance to the man, carefully putting himself in the line of fire should Blood try to make a go at either you or the Queen. His hand never left the hilt of his sword as his eyes watched every move the man made. 

Your father placed a pouch on the Painted Table. The clang it made let you know that there was quite a hefty sum inside. Blood, in turn, swung the sack from over his shoulders and emptied its contents onto the table. An involuntary gasp left you the second two small decomposing heads rolled towards you. Pushing your chair back in a panic, it nearly tipped over had Ser Erryk not been there to catch it. You held a hand to your mouth to stop from dry heaving. 

Blood tossed the empty sack on the table and snatched the pouch of gold. He opened it, looked inside, and made a humming noise in satisfaction at what he saw. 

“Should you need our assistance again, your Grace, you know where to find us.” Your father dismissed the assassin and Ser Erryk followed after him. 

Your mother’s face was stoic and your father looked quite pleased. Your heart hurt for these children, but your mind flashed to Lucerys. He may not have been as young as the two before you, but he was still a child nonetheless. This wouldn’t bring your brother back, but you knew how much this would hurt Helaena, and by extension Aemond and their mother. The corner of your mouth twitched up at the thought. 

Let this be a lesson to them, you thought ruefully, and let them see the headless bodies of those children every time they gazed upon Aemond.   

“A son for a son. A daughter for a daughter.” Your father said simply. You could not break your eyes from the lifeless milky gazes of young Princess Jaehaera and her twin Prince Jaehaerys. This act would surely set the wheel of war into full motion. 

“You’ve done this!” Alicent screamed the moment Aemond entered. Her face was splotched red and her voice was hoarse as she pointed an accusing finger at her son. He looked to the shrouded bodies on the floor and back to her, and in an instant she was on him. 

The slap echoed in the room, and just for good measure, she slapped him again on his opposite cheek. The blows were painful and full of rage he knew was building inside of her. 

“Look at them!” She grabbed Aemond by his wrist and dragged him to the shrouded bodies. She pulled the sheet in a flurry and Aemond felt as if he would throw up in an instant. “Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are dead! Assassinated before our very eyes, Aemond! The heir to the throne, my grandchildren, beheaded because of choices you made! Look at them!” Alicent grabbed Aemond’s chin and tilted his head down so he had to look at them. He felt his eye tear up at the sight of their small bodies. His niece and nephew had adored him, just as he adored them, and now they lay slain before him. His mother was right. 

“A son for a son. A daughter for a daughter.” Alicent spat, covering her grandchildren once more before they were taken to the Silent Sisters for funeral preparations. Alicent stormed to her chambers and Aemond caught a glimpse of an absolutely devastated Helaena. Aemond felt his breath leave him. 

You were alive and Sweet Jaehaera died for nothing.

Ser Erryk accompanied you to your quarters. At the command of your Queen Mother, the knight was now tasked with being your sworn shield. Gods only knew what Aemond would do now that you were no longer under this thumb, topped with the assassinations of his eldest niece and nephew. Ser Erryk took his place dutifully outside as you entered your chambers, offering his assistance should you need anything. 

Myra, your ever trusted handmaiden, was already inside preparing for your arrival in the short time she was given. Her shining eyes met yours before she bowed her head.

“My Princess.” Myra greeted with a warm smile. “A hot bath is being drawn as we speak.” In her arms was your robe, slippers, and nightgown. It was late in the day and the sun was starting its slow descent towards the horizon, you noted as you looked through the balcony doors. Nodding to Myra, you followed her from your chambers with Ser Erryk trailing closely behind.

You had not truly known what the grave look your mother initially gave you meant until you got your first look at yourself in months when you returned to your chambers after your much needed soak. Myra had made sure the orange blossom oils you loved so much were replenished and waiting for you when you stepped into the tub. 

The scent was soothing.

The flaking scabs around your wrists still ached with each flex of the skin. The puffy, pink scars left behind were a scathing reminder that mocked you day in and day out. The pink rings around your ankles fared much better -they didn’t quite ache as much, nor were the scars terrible. They would fade with time. 

It was your face that haunted your mother. As Myra managed her way through your tangles tenderly, you could only look upon yourself with a heavy frown as you sat in front of the reflecting glass of your dressing table.   

Your once beautiful hair’s ends were split and broken off, giving it a jagged appearance at the ends. Your skin, though it had gained some of its natural color back on your journey back to Dragonstone, was still ashen and malnourished. The circles under your eyes were dark, creating a sunken effect. Cracked were your lips, perpetually it seemed. A deep line split your bottom lip down the middle but it had been that way since the beginning of your captivity, so it no longer really bothered you.  

“The maester will be bringing up salves, my Princess. We will get you back into working order in no time. Don’t you fret.” Myra spoke softly as she caught your lifeless gaze in the mirror. She gave you a reassuring smile and you could only nod. “If I may be so bold,” She looked into your eyes in the mirror. You nodded once more. “You have been missed terribly, my Princess. I am filled with relief that you are alive.” Myra’s earnestness made tears well in your eyes. Myra immediately panicked. “I apologize, my Princess! I did not mean to upset you!” Your hand tugged at her wrist and you pulled her into a hug. 

Myra, though she was your handmaiden, and was a dear friend. She had been by your side since you reached maturity and she was loyal to a fault. 

“My return to Dragonstone has been…overwhelming.” You explained as you pulled away gently. “It lightens my heart to hear your kind words, Myra.” She gave you a sad smile and nodded before continuing to work through your hair. 

By the time Myra was done with you, the sun was just peeking over the water’s edge. Before she took her leave, you requested that she let Ser Erryk know that, with her exception, you did not want to be disturbed. 

You lounged upright upon the cushioned chaise on your balcony. You wrapped yourself in a blanket taken from your bed, breathing in the fresh air with a newfound appreciation. Dragons flew freely in the distance as they entered and exited the many caves and vents of the Dragonmont. 

Your heart ached terribly as you brought your head to your hands and hunched over, allowing the blanket to fully cocoon you. Guilt flowed through your blood with each pump of your heart and it tendriled through you like poison. The cushion beside you dipped and a hand placed itself on your blanketed back. The presence was familiar and comforting, and you immediately tilted your body to rest against them as they held you. Not a single word was spoken between you until darkness began to shroud the island.    

“It seems that I have you to thank for my rescue.” Your voice cracked as you brought your head out of the blanket to finally look upon Jace. He had aged well past his six and ten years since you last saw him, due to stress and grief. A hint of dark stubble had started to grace his jaw. 

“I merely kept hope. It was Lord Stark that devised the plan. It is he who is owed the credit.” Jace sat back in the chaise, pulling you back with him to keep you nestled safely in his side. His hand ran up and down your covered arm. 

“I am…grateful all the same.” You choked out, trying to hold yourself together. You were tired of crying, tired of letting your own grief overtake everything you felt. You wanted to sleep and never open your eyes to the world again.

“Lord Stark accepted the betrothal before you went missing.” Jace spoke softly, looking out over the open ocean. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a beautiful glow over the island and its surrounding waters. “I like to think that it was my shining descriptions of you that sold him on the idea.”

“And it seems that was his stipulation upon my release.” Your tone held a sharpness to it. “I am to go from one man’s prison to the next.” Jace sighed as he pulled from you gently so that you may face one another. “It doesn't matter. I am not the same person I was before. He will soon learn that.” Jace said your name softly.

“You are my sister, and that is enough for him. The North, for all its perceived faults, is not the prison you imagine it to be. You have always trusted my word, so please trust me when I say that if there was ever a man worthy of your hand, it is Cregan Stark.” Jace’s plea was heartfelt, this much you knew. “He has sworn to me that he would treat you with honor and respect. I think you’ll warm up to Winterfell quite quickly, as I did. Cregan will take care of you and you will be safe. This I promise.”

“You seem close…you call him by his first name as if he is blood.” You eyed Jace suspiciously.

“After word reached Winterfell of what happened to you…what happened to Luke…” Jace trailed off. “Lord Stark was supportive while I mourned.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “He was kind enough to host me in Winterfell for a few weeks longer than intended and during that time we came to an agreement, a blood oath of brotherhood. In my heart of hearts I knew you couldn’t be dead. Aemond would sooner turn his sword on himself than kill you, regardless of his mindset. I was certain then, and it turns out that I was right.”

“If only he had done that to begin with and spared us all a world of hurt.” You mumbled, leaning back into Jace. The ebb and flow of the sea filled the silence between you and Jace.  

“Daemon saw to it that Maestron’s skull be reclaimed from the Hook.” Jace spoke softly. “He is resting in the crypts should you wish to see him. We…could not find Arrax.” You wouldn’t, you wanted to say. He’s scattered like ash. Just as Luke is. You kept the words to yourself and let them fester within. 

Just as Luke is. 

Just as you should be. 

Fluorescent yellow flames encircled you, enveloping your being in heat, protection and serenity. The dragonfire did not scorch your skin as it wrapped around each limb, the rays braided through your hair, taking on the glow. Floating, your feet never touched the ground as you drifted higher and higher within the darkness. A deep rumble vibrated through your entire body. It shook the walls of the cavern, causing pebbles to fall around you. 

An eye, vividly chartreuse, appeared from the darkness and floated closer to your face. The size was massive, nearly the size of your head -if not bigger. The slitted pupil contracted as it got closer to the flames around you. The reflection of the ethereal fire bounced off its glossy, rounded surface. 

The eye blinked, the reptilian lids moving both vertically and horizontally, then it distanced itself from you and in its place a muzzle -as black as the darkness around you- came into view. The salivating jaws opened to display endless rows of sharp teeth. You could smell the dragon’s putrid breath, reeking of death and decay.  

Your eyes shot open, a gasp escaped your mouth as the distant sound of a dragon’s roar -mighty in its volume all the way from the Dragonmont- caught your ears. Looking to your open balcony, you felt a pull in your soul you never thought you would feel again in your lifetime. Standing quickly in the candlelit room, the cold stone floor was shocking to the heat of your feet as you walked to the balcony and stood at its ledge. 

This pull felt different than it had with Maestron, but it was familiar enough for you to recognize. 

There was only one dragon alive who was black as coal and had eyes of the brightest green. You were reminded of the same feeling of awe you had as a child when the dragon came to mind. Though you had only set your eyes upon him a handful of times, it was always from a far enough distance that you never got to truly see the intricate details of his powerful body. Your father made it abundantly clear as a young girl that neither you, nor Maestron, were to ever come close to crossing paths with this particular beast. 

“I have never seen a dragon such as him, papa. He is quite beautiful.” Your ten year old self stared in wonder from the shores just outside of Dragonstone’s Keep. There was a gap where one of the last of your front baby teeth had fallen out in recent weeks, and it was visible to your father as your jaw dropped in wonder at the dragon who flew out of the Mont and over the open ocean. 

Two dragonkeepers were behind you and your father, guiding Maestron back to where the other wyrmlings were kept near the Keep. Your wyrmling was not yet big enough to ride, and neither were you ready to ride him, but your father insisted you spend as much time with the dragon as you could so your bond was inseparable by the time you could ride him. 

“Does it have a name, Kepa?” He shook his head. 

“Not as your Maestron does, sweetling. This dragon has only a nickname given to him by the smallfolk of the villages.” Your father explained. “He is a feral dragon, the eldest of the wild bunch if my memory serves me.” 

“Older than Sheepstealer? Grey Ghost?” Your father chuckled. The far more docile wild dragons had alway piqued your interest -the elusive Grey Ghost especially as he liked to stay hidden within the mists of the Mont and surrounding waters. You had seen even less of his appearance than that of the dragon that currently held your attention.

“Yes, even older than Sheepstealer and Grey Ghost, Birdie, and just as they have -he’s been riderless his whole life.” Your eyes didn’t leave the dragon’s obsidian scales until he was so far away, he disappeared into the horizon. 

“Did he not hatch in a crib?” Your confusion brought a grin to your father’s face. 

“No, that is why they are called wild dragons, Birdie. No one really knows for sure where he came from. Some say he was hatched in the Dragonmont. Some even say he was hatched just before Aenar rode Balerion over the seas from Valyria and landed here, but that would make him quite old, wouldn’t it?” He looked down as you nodded. “Most believe he is from a different dragon lineage altogether, which is why he looks so different from the other dragons. I believe this to be true. It could also explain why he acts with hostility towards our Valyrian dragons. He is a mystery, nonetheless, and will remain as such.” Daemon shook his head, his shoulder length hair swayed in the breeze, eyes looking down to lock with yours. “He eats up anyone foolish enough to even step near his nest in the Mont, especially curious little dragonriders. Few have tried to bond with him, and all have failed. Their bones litter his nest, it is said.” You looked upon your father with wide eyes. 

“He eats them?” You asked with a frown. 

“He does.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not a dragonrider yet.” There was relief in your voice.  

“But you will be, Birdie. Be warned, little one. It isn’t just curious little dragonriders he likes to feast on. He will consume anything he comes across. People, animals, other dragons -wyrmlings especially.” You looked over to Maestron’s retreating form in a panic. “That is why we keep them and the newly nested eggs separate from the larger dragons, lest they be feasted on. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”  You shook your head at the thought of Maestron perishing before he could even fly. 

Though, there was something that drew you to the beast in the sky. To be unbonded for so long, living freely to do as he pleased thrilled you. The dragon had quite the reputation. 

Your father squatted down in front of you, his hands holding onto your tiny arms gently. “That is why you must always be cautious in the skies, my Birdie. Dragons such as he will not think twice about swallowing you and your wyrmling whole.” His hand came up to push a bit of hair from your face. “He is nicknamed the Cannibal for a reason.”

“The Cannibal.” You tested the name out, your lips pulling into a grin. “Had Maestron not hatched, I think I would be worthy of riding the Cannibal.” Your father let out a laugh, standing up straight with a groan that only adults seemed to let out when they rested on joints for too long. “Don’t you think, kepa?”

“You do not heed my warnings?” He asked with a raise of a brow. 

“I do! That is why my Maestron will be the most bloodthirsty dragon in the Seven Kingdoms once he is grown, since I cannot ride the fearsome Cannibal! Maestron will be feared by all just as the Cannibal is feared! When I am older, I will be the fiercest dragonrider to exist! None shall cross me or they will perish!” You had your father’s tenacity, his thirst for victory, and for your own reputation. He saw himself fully when he stared down at you. 

“Indeed you shall, for you are my daughter. The Realm will know your name for generations to come, and those who cross you and your mighty Maestron will quake in their boots, I am sure of it.” He smiled genuinely and gave you a pat on your head in affection.

“If my Maestron were to ever fall, I would surely ride the Cannibal.” You had every confidence in the world that your words were true. "I am brave enough."

“Will you now?” His tone was teasing as he lifted your squirming body into his strong arms. Your giggles and screams filled the air as he nibbled at your shoulder playfully. “Such girlish screams from the fiercest dragonrider of the realm.” He tickled you without mercy. “The Cannibal would eat you up as if you were one of those little cakes you sneak from the kitchens when you think no one is watching. One bite and you would be gobbled up.” Your giggles continued to ring through the air until he put you back down on your feet. 

“He is that big?” You were out of breath as you righted yourself in the sand, still smiling goofily up at your father. He looked down at you in adoration. 

You were his everything. 

There was a deep-rooted love he had for you that he never felt so wholly for anyone else in his life. He knew the second you entered the world -screaming and covered in blood- that he would burn kingdoms to the ground, would bring men to their knees, would do anything it took to make sure you prospered in the world he would inevitably leave behind. 

“He is.” Your father leaned down, holding his hand to your tiny, rounded cheek. “Massive, fierce, and just as lethal as Balerion was -though he lacks his size. You must promise me to stay clear of him.”

“I promise, Kepa.” You said sweetly, and you meant it because if this dragon scared your Kepa -a man undeniably invincible in your eyes- then the dragon was not to be trifled with.  

A knock at your door the following morning stilled Myra’s movements as she finished securing the final braid she was working on. 

“Enter.” You called out and the door opened. Baela was the first to enter with Rhaena closely behind. Two servants followed them in, each carrying a tray of assorted foods. 

You stood from your bench, quick to close the distance as you pulled your sisters in close to you. The servants moved past you and out to the balcony where they began to set each little plate onto the stone table. 

It was Rhaena who looked up at you first. She had tears in her eyes and you knew just how much of a toll all of this had taken on her. She was marrying Luke out of duty, but she grew up with him and cared for him in her own way all the same. His loss was taken hard by many. 

You placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then moved to Baela to do the same. 

“I have missed your beautiful faces dearly, my sweet girls.” They both had shining eyes as they returned your smile. 

“We’ve missed you!” Baela spoke as the girls separated themselves from you. “Father has been…”

“-Terrible,” Rhaena interjected, earning a warning look from Baela. 

“He has not been the same. Neither has the Queen.” Baela explained. You nodded solemnly. Not wanting the girls to dwell on such sadness any longer, you quickly changed the subject. 

“I see you’ve brought a little feast with you.” You smiled once more, and they seemed to perk up. “I’m famished. Shall we?” You gestured to the balcony and followed behind them. 

As you sat across from your sisters, your eyes fell to the small pyramid of stacked marzipan cakes, and you were immediately transported back to the cold, dark, stale dungeons with your itchy blanket and your three-pawed rat. You felt sweat drip down the back of your neck and your eye twitched ever so slightly. Rhaena’s voice was nothing more than babbling to your ears -completely unintelligible- until Baela called your name, snapping you out of your trance. 

Your eyes snapped up and both girls were staring at you. 

“My apologies.” You cleared your throat. “I am…still not quite myself. Forgive me.” Your smile did not reach your eyes, but the excuse seemed to quell Rhaena enough that she started chatting once more while adding fruits, cheeses, toasts and jams to her plate. Baela, on the other hand, kept looking at you until you gave her one more unconvincing smile. “Please,” You gestured to the food and began to take little bits here and there to busy your shaking hands. You weren’t really hungry -your appetite not returning in full quite yet- but it was the sight of the cakes that turned your stomach to lead. 

Still, they had made the effort to see you at the first chance they could, and they thought ahead so much as to have the kitchens prepare all of this just for you. You would eat to please them. It was the least you could do. 

“You haven’t touched the marzipan cakes.” Rhaena pointed out midway through the meal. “I know they are your favorite, and I know it is still only the morning,” She shot a glare over to Baela, “but we thought you’d like a little comfort to welcome you home.” A small comfort, Aemond had described them himself. It took every bit of willpower to not upchuck what little you had just consumed. You schooled your face, hoping your absolute dread did not cross your features. Baela watched you carefully. 

“They were Rhaena’s idea.” Baela acquiesced. “I told her it was too early for cakes, but she insisted.” 

Rhaena looked so hopeful that her idea pleased you. You reached your hand over the table and took hers within your palm. You saw both of their eyes glance to your wrist, but neither said anything. You were grateful. 

“Your kindness knows no bounds, Rhaena. What have I done to deserve you? The both of you?” Genuine love and gratitude reflected in your eyes as you looked at the girls. “I am merely saving the cakes for my breakfast dessert. Doesn’t that sound like a treat?“ Rhaena giggled as you looked over at her with a playfully conspiratorial grin. Truthfully, you’d sooner eat a rock than touch those cakes. You didn’t know if you could keep a single bite down even if you wanted to, but that bridge would be crossed when the time came. Until then, you would not dwell on it. 

“You are going easy on me, Ser Erryk. Why? Do you think I am incapable of learning this?” Your tone held a bite to it, frustration lacing your every word. 

“It is not that I think you are incapable, my Princess.” The knight sighed, letting his blunted training sword drop to his side.

“Then what is it?” You demanded. “Why do you balk at the notion of me wielding a blade?”

“It’s just…you have me, my Princess.” He replied. “This is simply not necessary.” You rolled your eyes. 

“You cannot be everywhere, Ser Erryk.” You argued.

“But I will be everywhere you are, my Princess. I am to join you in the North, as my Queen has commanded. Where you go, I will follow. I’ve sworn it to you and to the Queen that I shall be your protector until my very last breath. I do not take my oath lightly.” Erryk’s brows were pinched together. “Perhaps I am not- '' You cut off your knight sternly. You panted heavily as sweat dripped from the sides of your face. 

“-Perhaps if you will not do it, Ser Erryk, I shall find someone who will. Though their skill will not be a match to yours, I am sure.” You sighed as you lessened the space between yourself and the knight. “You do not know what it is like to feel powerless, unable to fend for yourself.” Your head dropped in shame. “Through the entire ordeal with Aemond, from Storm’s End to the dungeons of the Red Keep, I was weak -pitifully weak- and I’ve since vowed to myself that I will never feel defenseless again.” You looked up at him once more. “A war is upon us and even if I were to never meet a battlefield, it would make no difference. I will be prepared. I will learn to wield this blade,” You shook the smallsword in your hand, “-So that I may never endure what I have at the hands of any man, ever again in my life. So again I ask: Will you take this seriously, Ser? Or need I look elsewhere?” Erryk looked at you sternly for a moment, analyzing you before he bowed his head with a heavy sigh.

“I will, my Princess. My apologies.”

Dragon fire blazed across the gray skies and storm clouds swirled overhead. The sounds of battle on the ground below could be heard from so far up in the sky. You could see, though it wasn’t from your own eyes. The world around you was made of color that your eyes would never be able to see. It was a forbidden beauty, not seen by the human eye. Craning your head to the left, you saw onyx wings. The ombré of black to a deep purple within the leathery membranes cast a spark in your mind. 

The Cannibal. 

There was a grip on your mind -or his, you couldn’t differentiate. It was like that of a fist and it clenched firm. The feeling was not painful, but you were all too aware of its unpleasant presence. 

The beast soared lower to the battlefield below, neon flame burst from the Cannibal’s mouth, turning all in his wake to ash and char. The air around you sizzled as he accelerated up into the sky. 

To feel as a dragon feels is overwhelming in every sense of the word. The raw power, the speed, the might -all of it was too much for a mere human to bear.

A young dragon, only just large enough to carry a rider, caught your eye. The beast’s scales were a beautiful cobalt, while the crest and tail were an orange rust. A burst of adrenaline flowed through the Cannibal’s body -your body- as he surged towards the much smaller dragon with a terror-inducing roar. 

A young rider -looking similar in age to Jace- was on its back, and you saw despair shroud over the young man as the Cannibal approached. His Targaryen features were akin to that of the Usurper Aegon’s, and you knew then that this could only be young Daeron. You hoped the fear on Aegon’s own face would look just the same as his youngest brother’s did when he meets his own end. 

When the young man saw the unstoppable mass that was coming for him, he nor his dragon stood a chance -and just as Vhagar had ripped Luke and Arrax from the sky, the Cannibal did the very same. There was no remorse to be had in the bloody wake of war. 

Bloodlust was the only descriptor you could use for the feeling that swept upon the dragon as he swallowed what chunks of flesh remained in mouth. You tasted it as if your own jaws had taken young Daeron’s life, though it did not taste of salt and iron. It was satisfying, delectable. It fueled the dragon’s lust for chaos and ruin, and that is the path he continued on. 

Another mighty roar was let loose from the Cannibal’s maw as he circled the battle overhead, and a deeper roar echoed in the distance in response. 

The Cannibal turned in the open sky quickly to charge in the direction of the dragon who dared call back to him in challenge. 

Your own eyes opened to the darkness that surrounded you before the dragon came into view. You knew who it was, deep in your bones. The monstrous bellows of Vhagar, for as long as she lived, would haunt you.  

Sweat coated your skin, sticking you to your sheets uncomfortably. At some point in the night, you had shucked off your nightgown and now the chill bit at your exposed skin. The cool air hit your bare flesh as it blew in from the open balcony door. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Looking down at your hands, they trembled fiercely. 

A dragon dream. 

This could not be a coincidence, not after the dream you had the previous night. Both were so vibrant, so real. 

You stood from your bed, grabbing the robe that hung on the post next to it. Shrugging it on, you didn’t bother to tie it as you walked to your balcony to look towards the Dragonmont. 

A black mass, visible from where you stood, flew over the village below. 

“You have the advantage of a smaller blade at this close proximity to your opponent.” Ser Erryk grunted as he all but manhandled you towards the rocky alcove behind you on the beach. He had taken your plea to heart, and as happy as you were that he did, it was an embarrassingly humbling experience. 

Your feet tripped through the sand as you tried to simply not lose any ground, but Ser Erryk was unrelenting. 

“The size of your opponent does not matter so long as you know where to place your feet.” With that, you tripped on a rock behind your heel and he used that as an opportunity to push your back against the alcove. His sword’s length lay across your chest to show you what a stupid split second decision will end in. “And now you are dead.” He breathed, inches from your face. 

You panted, becoming increasingly aware of how close Erryk was to you. He removed his sword and looked down at you with a softness in his eyes. 

“Well…” You swallowed. “...at least I’ll have you.” You said, teasingly. He raised a brow at you and released you from his hold, but you caught the tilt of his lips all the same when he turned towards the shore. 

“Again.” Ser Erryk urged, raising his sword once more. 

The biting wind whipped through your hair as the Cannibal flew at break-neck speeds. Viewing through your own eyes this time around, you looked down to your gauntleted hands that tightly held onto the saddlehorn. You could feel as the influence of the dragon flowed through your veins and you truly felt invincible.

Movement below caught your eyes. Vhagar, in all her might, bellowed out a cannon of flame one last time as she plummeted to the waters below with a thundering crash. A tidal wave echoed to the shores, drowning any poor soul who stood too near the water’s edge. You could not believe your eyes. Circling the Cannibal around above, you watched as Vhagar sank to the depths below, steam rising from the waters above her.  

The Cannibal roared in a victorious threat of dominance to any remaining dragons in the sky, friend or foe, now that his largest adversary had perished.  

Arrows flew past you, bouncing off of the Cannibals impenetrable scales and narrowly missing your face by mere inches. The dragon shifted direction to fly higher in the sky to evade any rogue arrows that could potentially hit their targets. 

Gaping wounds were slashed across the Cannibal’s neck and flank -marks made by teeth and claws- but they did not seem to bother him. If anything, they pushed him further to decimate everything and everyone in his path with pure fury. 

You awoke with clarity. It was as if your eyes had been truly opened for the first time and a sense of purpose settled deep in your chest. 

Dressing yourself with haste, you snuck through the secret passages of the Keep. Slinking in the shadows, you bypassed where you knew guards and knights alike would be stationed until you made it outside and to the stables -your face hidden by the hood of your cloak.

The ride to the village took no longer than half an hour by horseback. The moon was bright enough to see the road ahead of you, and Dragonstone was one of the safest places within the realm to wander freely. Even still, your smallsword was tied snuggly to your hip as a precaution. 

Just outside of the village, down the road a ways, was a small homestead surrounded by livestock pens. Goats, cows, horses, pigs, and chickens could be heard now that you’ve seemed to have disturbed the entire yard.

A herd dog -a white, fluffy beast of a thing with a dripping muzzle- barked in alert at your arrival, keeping an eye on you to make sure you did not cause harm to his charges. You kept your distance, giving the dog a wide berth, and stopped your horse just before the gate to the walkway of the home. It was by no means big, maybe a bedroom or two, a living space, and possibly a small area to cook. It was modest, but comfortable. 

Walking up to the door, you pounded three hard knocks onto it that were sure to wake the occupants inside. It took a few moments, but the door opened a crack.

“What do you want?” A man all but growled through the crack in the door.   

“Your goats. I would like to purchase two of them.” You replied sternly.

“Come back at a reasonable hour, girl. I will be selling no goats of mine at this time of night.” The man sneered as he attempted to close the door in your face, but the toe of your boot held it open. You dangled a coin purse in front of the door, jangling the gold pieces inside. The pressure against your foot eased and a haggard, dirty old face filled the small space. 

“You don’t know my price.” He looked at you suspiciously. 

“Your price is my price. I assure you, it is more than you’d ask and more than they’re worth.” You spoke plainly. This seemed to win the man over and he opened the door fully. 

“What are you doing buying goats at the hour of the owl anyway?” The man questioned as he stepped out of the house, closing the door behind him. 

“My business is my own. I’m sure you understand.” You replied, looking at the animals that walked up to their fences curiously. 

“Aye.” He gave you a once over, eyeing you nervously. Your face was shrouded by the hood of your cloak, but a flash of silver hair did catch his eye. The man nodded and led you to the goat pen.

“I’ll take the biggest two you have. Tie them together so they do not wander. My horse is on the road.” With that, you tossed him the pouch and turned to return to your mount. 

You sat patiently upon the horse’s back. It only took the man a few minutes to wrangle the bleating goats. Their incessant chatter only got louder the closer they got to you. 

“For you, miss.” The man handed her the end of the rope. You took it within your gloved hand, tying it to the saddlehorn. 

“I shall return at the same time tomorrow, and every night forward for the foreseeable future. Each night I will need an animal larger than the last. I will pay you fairly, of course.” The man blinked up at you, but nodded nonetheless. 

“Of course.” He mirrored. 

“I do apologize for waking you at such an hour.” You kicked the horse gently to begin trotting. “I hope sleep finds you well, sir. Good night.” With that you continued down the road towards the Dragonmont. 

It was another hour or so before you made it to the base of the Mont. The goats had run alongside you obediently. If anything, they seemed to love the exercise. 

Fleeting happinesses, you supposed. 

You pulled the horse to a stop as the path became too difficult to walk it up safely and tied the horse to a tree that was hidden among the brush so none of the dragons would find an easy meal. The walk back to the Keep on foot was not ideal. 

The path to the western side of the Dragonmont was frequently taken. The gravel was clear of debris and overgrown weeds unlike the eastern path before you. It was daunting, you would not lie, and the darkness did not boost your confidence. 

Steam and smoke billowed into the air high above you. The air smelled of sulfur and a scent that was distinctly dragon. You could hear the chittering of the beasts both wild and bonded as their calls echoed from within the volcano’s passages and vents. 

It hurt your heart to know Maestron’s own distinct call was not among them. It would take time to undo all of the natural reflexes in your mind regarding him that were no longer natural. You had a lifetime with him, so to live with his absence was what you’d imagine it was like to lose a spouse. It was a piece of you, gone.

You held tightly onto the rope and pushed ahead, determined to continue on. It was a long, arduous hike to the back of the eastern side of the Mont. Crags had chipped and fallen onto the path over time, making it difficult terrain for you to cross over at some points, much less with the two goats who did their best to make sure this trek was as difficult as possible for you. 

You wretched little beasts, you thought as you tugged at their rope. You have no idea what awaits you.

By the time you made it relatively close to your endpoint, you were sweating profusely. Your clothes stuck to you uncomfortably and your skin felt clammy in the warm air. The moon was still high in the sky, so you felt like you made pretty good time thus far.      

The closer you got to the cave’s entrance, the more bones littered the ground at your feet. It was a graveyard menagerie, a collection of both animal and human skeletal remains alike. 

Still, you only felt the magic within you grow stronger, pulling you to the darkness ahead. Finding an alcove of stone at the mouth of the cave for protection, you hid and listened. One of the wretched goats let out a bleat and you wanted to wring its neck with your bare hands. 

The sniffing of a dragon’s nostrils could be heard. It was a long-winded sweeping sound that was loud and clear. The beast inside was scenting what dared to lurk outside of his nest. Still, he did not approach and instead waited for you to come to him. He was an ambush predator, your father had explained once, and he loved the thrill of the hunt -especially if the element of surprise was involved. 

“I hold no fear in my heart for you.” You spoke out loud for the dragon to hear, still pushed into the crevice. A deep rumbling vibrated through the pitch black cave, just as it had in your dream. “You called to me, or I called to you. Either way, the call was answered.” 

A deep bellow came from within the cave, echoing into the night. 

“I know that you hold no love for anyone or anything, but I’ve brought you a gift. Accept it and I shall be on my way to return your peace as it was. Tomorrow, I shall be back to do the same, and one day I wish to look upon you as we did within the dream but I will remain patient.” 

You allow the curious goats to wander into the cave, still tied together by their necks with two connecting loops of rope. The clicking of their tiny hooves echoed as they stepped further and further into the cave fearlessly. 

Their incessant bleating was cut short by a burst of flame that shot from the entrance, charring everything in its path. The flames were vibrantly yellow, just as they were in your dream, and they took up the enormity of the cave’s mouth from top to bottom. 

The heat licked at your skin even from where you hid. The tiny hairs on your forearms swayed from the force of the gusts as you brought them up to shield your eyes from the brightness. Your chest buzzed as if a colony of angry bees had nested within it, smashing against your ribs to be let free. 

The visceral sounds of flesh ripping, bones crunching, and entrails sloshing met your ears. 

Good, he had accepted your offering. 

“You are sluggish.” Ser Erryk narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “More so than usual.” He threw in the jab teasingly, but he let you know that he took note of your lack of performance during this training session. 

Your limbs were heavy and sore from your previous lessons, as well as from the trek up and down the side of the Dragonmont, and you swore you would’ve fallen over had the breeze been just slightly more of a gust than it was.

“You forget that I do not have a lifetime of strenuous activity, Ser.” You grumbled crankily as you dropped to the sand to sit for a moment. You did not get back to your chambers until the hour of the nightingale began to approach. It seemed as if you had merely blinked your eyes before Myra entered your chambers so you could prepare for your training session. “I was raised as a soft lady, much to my detriment, and soft ladies do not strain themselves.” Ser Erryk did not look impressed at your whining, but allowed you to take a break nonetheless. “I am adjusting,” You shielded your eyes from the sun with the palm of your hand to look up at him. “And gaining a newfound appreciation for what you do. You make it look effortless.” Erryk dropped to the sand next to you.

“As you’ve said, my Princess, I have a lifetime of honing my skill with a sword. It will come to you in time, but you must be patient and persistent.” Squinting as you stared just a second too long at him, you cracked a smile.

“Perhaps, if you are feeling generous, you could take me on as your squire.” Ser Erryk barked a laugh as he stood back up, dusting the sand off of his trousers before extending a hand to pull you up. 

Just as you promised the farmer, you had returned nightly to collect pigs, sheep, more goats, a mule, and now -on the tenth night- a cow. This time around, you had a companion with you.

Ser Erryk had been tipped off on your nightly excursions outside of the castle walls after interrogating the poor stable boy you had paid off to have your horse saddled and ready for you, and to say it disturbed the knight greatly would be an understatement. It wasn’t until this night that he had finally caught you.

“My Princess, I must insist that you stay within the walls of the Keep.” Erryk’s unmistakable voice stopped you as you pulled the horse from its stall. Turning, you saw that he was waiting for you in the deep shadows of the stables. His eyes held exasperation as he stepped into the moonlight. “For your safety.”

“Insist all you’d like, Ser Erryk.” You inspected the strap of the saddle and loaded yourself onto the horse. Erryk stepped in front of you, making your horse stamp his hoof. “You may join me if it will ease your worries, but I will not be staying put. Stay or follow -it matters not to me, Ser. Either way, I will return before the sun rises.” You finished with a raise of your brow in challenge. He could very well alert the rest of the guards to your presence, thus awakening the whole castle. The last thing you needed was your father breathing down your neck regarding this matter. You did not keep many things from him, but this was something you could not utter a single word to him about until the matter was set in stone.

Erryk insisted on joining you if he could not talk you out of staying put, as was his knightly duty, and so he rode a horse beside you as you came upon the farmer’s homestead. 

Just as he had the eight nights after your initial visit, the farmer was waiting at the gates of his yard, the protective dog sitting by his feet. His tail wagged when he saw you, now familiar with your nightly visits. 

Tied to the fence was a large cow, chewing the grass that grew around the wooden post. Reaching into your cloak, you tossed the purse to the farmer, just as you had every night past. He untied the cow from the fence and tied the rope to your saddle, and off you went without a single word exchanged. 

Ser Erryk watched the exchange curiously, but not as curiously as the man had watched the knight who was very obviously a member of the Queen’s Guard. Still, not a word was spoken as the pair of you made off with your livestock. You were a good ways down the road, nearly halfway to the base of the Mont, when Ser Erryk spoke. 

“You spend your nights buying livestock?” His question held a cheeky tone to it, and you would give it right back to him.

“I do.” You grinned over at him.

“You risk your life out here alone for cows?”

“Risk my life? Hardly, Ser Erryk.” You scoffed. “And it isn’t just for cows. It was also sheep…and goats…and pigs,” You listed. “Oh! And a mule last night.” 

“What do you do with these animals? I did not take you for a farmer.”

“That would be a very silly thing, wouldn’t it?” You humored him. 

“It really would be, Princess.” The conversation died after that and it didn’t take much longer to get to the base of the Dragonmont. Both of you dismounted and hid your horses amongst the trees. Untying the cow, you led her to the eastern path you had traveled many times up to this point. Ser Erryk followed behind you hesitantly.  

“It is not my place to question you, my Princess,” He cleared his throat. “but I must know what we are doing here.” Erryk’s eyes were on a constant swivel as he watched out diligently for danger. 

“We are going up to the Dragonmont, Ser Erryk.” You stated simply as you continued on. It would take about an hour, as you had timed before, to hike up to the cave. With the heifer it may take longer depending on how cooperative she was going to be. 

“I’ve gathered as much, my Princess.” He sighed. “The cow is what I have questions about.” Erryk had a sinking feeling in his gut, but he needed to hear you confirm his suspicions before he acted.

“It is a gift.” You replied cryptically, a grin playing at your lips. Your eyes surveyed the tumultuous ground for anything that would cause you to lose your footing.

“For whom?” Ser Erryk stumbled, quickly righting himself. 

“For what, is the question you should be asking.” You answered cheekily. “This heifer is a gift for the Cannibal, if you must know.” Ser Erryk stopped dead in his tracks, his brows furrowed. 

“You jest.” He spoke, all royal pretenses dropped as he looked at you. His lips were set in a deep frown.

“I’ve never jested in my life, Ser.” You teased, and did not falter in your steps up the inclined overgrown pathway. You did, however, shoot a smirk over your shoulder at the knight. Erryk jogged to catch up with you and stopped in front of you, halting your advances with his hand extended. The cow mooed without a care in the world, dropping its head to chew on a patch of wildflowers on the side of the trail. They were the last living patch of greenery this far up.

“Princess, I cannot allow you to go up there.” Erryk looked distraught, his eyes wide and full of terror. “It would be suicide.”  

“Allow me? Let me make myself abundantly clear -you do not allow me to do anything, Ser Erryk.” You looked up at the knight in challenge. Taking a good look at him in the moonlight, his handsome, angular face was accentuated. He and his brother, though nearly identical, had characteristics that differentiated them. You had always naturally preferred Erryk over Arryk during any of your interactions, and seeing as how Erryk was now sworn to your family -to you- you had instinctually made the right choice. 

Erryk wasn’t the type of handsome that knights like Ser Criston were -prettily handsome- but he was ruggedly handsome all the same. His eyes were bright and his face was expressive, though it was more than just his face that drew you in. He was tall, broad, strong, passionate, loyal to a fault, and absolutely lethal with a sword. Erryk Cargyll was everything a knight should be and you were more than pleased to have him at your side. 

“I apologize, my Princess. I meant no offense. It is only your safety that I must keep as my highest priority.” His head was bowed, though he looked up at you when you responded.

“Duly noted, Ser Erryk.” You took a step closer to the knight. “I’m going to tell you something that only your ears will be privy to, as I know you can be trusted wholly. No one, not even my father, knows what I’ve been doing up here on the Dragonmont.”

“As apprehensive as I am about this, it is an honor to be held in such high regard, my Princess. My ears are yours.” And he meant it -you know he did. Your voice was soft and airy as you spoke. He was the only soul you would dare tell this to, as he would swear his silence if you asked it of him. Your father, for as much as he loved you, would only look at you the way he looked at his brother when he spoke of Aegon’s Dream. That look of disappointment was not something you took lightly, nor could you bear the weight of it and everything that would follow. 

The cow’s rope fell from your hands, though the cow stood as if you were still holding it. You pulled the hood of your cloak off, baring your face to the knight. Your trembling hands clasped his armored ones and held tightly, startling him with your touch. 

“Ten and three nights past, I had my first dream, Erryk. A dream I’ve never experienced before, but I had two more in just as many nights following. They were not the dreams of fantasy, Erryk. All three of them were as Aegon the Conqueror’s dream, of Daenys’ premonitions. My father does not believe them, naturally. He is practical, if he is anything, which is why I have not spoken to him about this, but that is beside the point.” You took another step closer, Erryk’s hands nearly touching your stomach, and you looked up at the tall knight with what some might describe as lucid madness. Your lilac eyes glowed in the moonlight, Erryk noted. 

“My Uncle Viserys used to speak of these dreams. He was adamant that they were the truth. I had heard of them as a child and thought they were merely tales myself. How could something that happened in the land of sleep be real? Now I know. It was real to Aegon. It was real to Daenys. She  prophesied that Valyria would fall, and the line of Targaryen would be demolished. Had Aenar not listened to her, I would not be standing before you, Erryk. The dragons you see today would no longer exist.” Your lashes fluttered as you spoke feverishly and Erryk could only listen on with apprehension continuing to grow within him. “Aegon himself truly believed the fall of man would come to be. He saw it, he felt it.” 

“The fall of man has not happened, Princess.”

“Yet!” You hissed. “It hasn’t happened yet!” You felt Erryk’s fingers tighten around yours to hold you steady. “What I saw and what I felt was real, Erryk. I saw it, I smelled it, I tasted it, I touched it. All of it was real.” Your words sounded more like pleas to the knight to merely believe you. 

“In the first dream, I saw the Cannibal. I was as close to him as I am to you. His fire danced around me as he looked at me and I looked at him, and we understood one another.” Your breathing was erratic, just as your words were. “There was a tendril that pulled us together, connected us in a way that only exists between a rider and a dragon. In the second dream I saw through the Cannibal’s eyes, Erryk. I felt what he felt, I tasted what he tasted. I breathed fire and scorched the earth. Through his eyes, I felt what it was to fly over mountains and oceans -over battlefields and castles. And in the final dream, I saw Vhagar.” Erryk’s brows furrowed as you smiled deliriously. “I saw her! Riding upon the Cannibal’s back I saw her fall to her doom, Erryk.” Manic tears burst forth from your eyes. 

“I was there! I do not know where it was, but she perished.” Your chest heaved. “These dreams cannot be mere coincidence.” Erryk took in your words, his mind spinning frantically as he tried to process his response. You spoke so earnestly, but it was hard for him to believe what you were saying as reality. It may have been your truth, but your current mental state may also be aligned with fiction. 

“May I speak freely, my Princess?” He spoke gently, his thumbs rubbing over the tops of your hands to calm you down.

“Of course.” You breathed, your eyes shining with hope that he’d understand what you were saying.

“...Perhaps…perhaps this is your way of dealing with your grief. So much has happened and you have not had the proper time to process it.” Your stomach dropped and it felt as if you were freefalling from a cliff. Perhaps this is what it would’ve felt like had Aemond let you run off the edge of Massey’s Hook. 

Erryk’s brows were downturned and his eyes shined with pity when you visibly deflated. You pulled your hands from his and crossed your arms over your chest to bring your defenses up.

“I’ve dealt with my grief! I’m still dealing with my grief!” You spat. “They were dragon dreams, Erryk!” You nearly shouted. “I know they were! I have been climbing this trail up and down the Mont, for hours of each way every single night since I had the third dream. I’ve visited the Cannibal every night -this night being the tenth, and I live to tell the tale, Erryk! When has he let anyone step foot near his nest and live? When?” You pushed angrily.

“I…Ido not know what to say, my Princess.” In truth, Ser Erryk had a lot he’d like to say, but he’d also like to keep his head attached to his shoulders. He would also like to not become the next offering to the Cannibal if what you spoke of was genuine truth. He could not make heads nor tails of the situation. You took a step back from Erryk and sighed, picking up the fallen rope within your hands. 

“You insisted on accompanying me, Ser Erryk, but I will not fault you for staying behind while I continue forward. The Cannibal is unpredictable and I cannot promise your safety should you follow.” You said seriously, sniffling as you ran a shaking hand over your face. Erryk looked between you, the cow, and the steaming volcanic vents of the Dragonmont behind you. 

“This dragon calls to me, Erryk.” You whispered. “You may not believe me, nor do you understand it, but I feel it in the furthest depths of my being. It is not the same as my bond with Maestron was, but the magic is there and it will only grow stronger with time should he accept me. The fact that the Cannibal has not ended my existence is encouragement enough. Now,” You gave the cow a pat to its flank as you fixed Erryk with your stare. “You can help me get this beast to the eastern side of the Mont, or you can return to the Keep and carry on with your other duties -whatever they should be at the hour of the wolf.”

“My only duties are with you, Princess.” Ser Erryk said without hesitation. “Day or night, I shall not leave your side.” His eyes held a softness as they looked down at you, but still, he kept his mouth shut. 

“Very well.” You nodded and handed the rope to the knight. Erryk dutifully followed behind you with the cow in tow. 

The familiar boneyard came into view and you stopped Erryk from going forward. 

“It is not much further from here. I must stress to you that whatever you see -whatever you hear- you must remain calm. He will know you are with me. He will catch your scent if he hasn’t already. Stay out of sight and say a quick prayer to the Seven that you make it to see the sunrise, Ser Erryk. Your bravery tonight will not be forgotten.” You smiled softly at him, your palm coming up to rest on his cheek. 

Erryk knew what was at stake. He knew the possibility of neither of you coming out of this alive was high. Still, he followed you to the end as he had sworn he would. An armored finger rested under your chin and tilted your face up just the slightest bit. 

“I shall not leave you, Princess.” He spoke gently. It was a promise that would be kept. He may not have believed you, but still, he’d follow you to your end. You nodded, tears lining your eyes. They sparkled like diamonds in the moonlight, entrancing the knight. 

Erryk could not deny the pull that drew him to you, but even in what he projected was his last hour in this life, he would not allow himself to act rashly for you were his Princess and he had a duty to uphold. If a man could not keep his oath, even with the Stranger looming ever closer, then what was he worth? 

Reputation meant everything, in life and in death. 

“Come.” You whispered, taking the rope from Erryk and leading the cow behind you. A comfortable silence blanketed the pair of you as you walked. Erryk decided, in that moment, that he would allow himself one final comfort in this life. It was bold, but uncompromising. 

He pulled the glove and gauntlet off of his left hand, freeing his fingers from the leather and metal. He grasped your hand tenderly within his own calloused palm, affectionately tangling your more delicate fingers with his. 

You turned to look at Erryk and his profile looked as if it was carved from stone in the glow of the moonlight. The breeze lifted his long hair that rested on his back, swirling it around his shoulders. You squeezed his much larger hand and smiled with a shy dip of your head. Returning the smile, Erryk decided that this would be enough. There were worse ways to leave this life.

Silently you carried on, hand in hand with your knight as you approached the final bend. Erryk could feel the stone tremble beneath his feet and his heart nearly stopped dead in his chest. You gave his hand one last squeeze before releasing it. You ushered him into the alcove that you hid in the first time you came to approach the Cannibal. 

“You will stay here and do not come out unless you are certain I am dead.” Erryk’s jaw dropped in shock. “Do not look at me like that. Please, promise me you will stay put.” Erryk’s jaw clenched, anger and frustration building up inside of him. How could you ask him to do nothing while you faced the most ferocious beast on this island? 

Once more you brought your hand to his bearded cheek. “I believe what I saw, Erryk. I know you don’t, but I truly do. I need you to trust me as I trust you -wholly and without question.” Erryk’s brows furrowed and he held your stare for a few moments before he relented against his better judgment. 

“Okay.” He whispered. “Okay.” You nodded, caressing his jaw for a moment more before leaving him in the alcove. He could see you perfectly through a crack in the stone as you approached the mouth of the cave with the cow in tow. It was the same crack in the slab of stone that you watched through the first night you visited the Cannibal.

Surely this is what it felt like to wait for the swing of the executioner’s sword, Erryk thought to himself. To know you are going to die a gruesome death, but first you had to wait for your turn at the chopping block. 

“Another offering, as I’ve promised.” You called into the darkness, patting the rump of the cow to encourage her to walk forward. The clip-clop of her hooves echoed slowly as she disappeared from view. The deep rumble of the Cannibal’s purr reverberated through Erryk’s own chest as he watched on with baited breath. You moved out of the mouth of the cave and to the side, only separated from Erryk by the slab of stone he peeked through. 

A blinding flash of yellow flame shot through the mouth of the cave. Erryk had to cover his eyes, but you had welcomed the brightness from where you stood with an unhinged smile gracing your face. The flames lasted for five long seconds. You counted it time and time again with each offering you brought, learning more of the dragon with each passing night. That was his preferred roasting time, you figured. 

Darkness encased the cave once more. The tell-tale sounds of bones crunching and flesh tearing met your ears. 

There was a theory you had worked out in your brain that you purposefully failed to share with Erryk. Had you clued him in on what you were here to truly do, he wouldn’t think twice about letting the cow loose and throwing you over his shoulder to return back to the Keep kicking and screaming. 

He wouldn’t understand -not really. He couldn’t. The blood of the dragon did not run through his veins as it did yours.

You didn’t realize it until you were in the safety of the Keep at Dragonstone, but Aemond had fractured something within you. It dwelled in the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind and soul, and what you were about to do would either soder it back together or wipe it from existence entirely. Whatever the outcome, you would be set free. 

Erryk hissed your name directly as you began to disrobe where you stood. Your cloak fell to the ground in a heap. Next you kicked your boots to the left of it.

“What in the Seven are you doing?” Came Erryk’s panicked whisper. Your shirt, breeches, and smallclothes were tossed onto your cloak, and you moved your boots to hold the pile down. “Princess, please!” His gaze turned from you instantly as you stood bare as the day you were born before him. “This is madness.”

“No, Erryk. This is fate.” Your voice was calm as you turned away from him. The air, though warm this close to the volcano, still caused your nipples to peak and goosebumps to form on your naked skin. You freed your hair from the bands that held your braids together, tossing the strips of leather into your boot. 

“In the...off chance…that I do not return…tell my father what has transpired in full truth, and that I am sorry I did not keep my promise.” Erryk grabbed your wrist through the crevice, intent on not letting you go. He adamantly kept his eyes on yours, not daring to let them wander further down. You were not his to gaze freely upon, he chastised himself. And you never would be. He breathed your name once more, causing you to turn back to the knight. There was a deep sadness that swirled in his eyes as he gazed upon your moonlit face.

“Do not do this. I am begging you. If I have to carry you down the Dragonmont myself and tie you to my horse, I’ll do it.” You smiled at Erryk. “Your family has already lost you once. The Realm needs you, Princess. Please think!” Erryk’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes glistened. Stress poured from every feature and there was a slight tremor in the grip he had on you. You rested a hand upon his, gently prying his fingers away.

“This is my destiny, Erryk. This dragon will rid the Realm of all the vile creatures that dwell within it.” Your mind flashed to Aemond and Vhagar, to Aegon and Sunfyre, Daeron and Tessarion, to Alicent and her wretched father.

All would fall to the might of the Cannibal.

You felt it in your bones as you pulled your wrist free from Erryk’s grasp and stepped to the opening of the cave before he could stop you. The deep rumble of the Cannibal’s growl echoed in the cave, and his giant steps shook the Mont from within. Erryk was nearly hyperventilating as he watched. He did not dare blink an eye.

“You feel this.” You spoke freely into the void with a steady voice. It did not shake and there was no fear present. “We are connected. You would not spare me if I didn’t speak the truth.” The Cannibal’s growls only grew deeper, bordering a purr from the massive creature. “Prove to me that this is real, that we are one.” You held your arms wide as you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, face tilted to the sky above. “I welcome you.”

Erryk saw the flames before he could think. Hot, yellow fire shot from the cave as it had with the cow, and now you were fully engulfed. Erryk felt tears fall down the planes of his cheeks, his lips trembling terribly as he watched on as you were consumed by the dragonfire.

Gone. You were gone.

Failure emanated through his core, turning his stomach something fierce and he could do nothing but watch you perish. Erryk’s burning eyes clenched shut. 

He failed you. He failed his Queen. He failed the Realm.   

The continuous dragonfire made his eyes crack open. The flames lasted much longer than they had before and his jaw dropped in wonder.

The heat of the flames was nearly unbearable, but they did not burn your flesh. They felt like the warmest rays of the sun on the hottest summer day as the fire danced and licked your skin. The golden flames sparked and sizzled around you as you held your breath. Your feet left the stone floor for a mere blip of a moment in time and you felt it. Mere inches off the ground, the flames engulfed you fully. 

It was a lifetime within the fire, just as it had been within your dream, and in an instant you were shifted back to darkness. Your feet hit the ground with a slap, your knees wobbled at the force. Looking up, the sharp chartreuse eye of the Cannibal beckoned you forward and your legs moved on their own accord.

Erryk could not breathe as he watched you enter the Cannibal’s nest. You, who had roasted alive within the dragon’s flames mere seconds ago, before his very eyes, was now walking on your own two feet as if he didn’t see what he definitely just saw. He blinked hard, rubbing his eyes.

There wasn’t a single blemish on your skin, not a single burn marred your flesh. You should’ve been dead instantly, reduced to a pile of ash left to blow in the wind. 

At that moment, Erryk did not know what to do -what to think. Was he dead? It was the only semi-rational thought he could come up with. He leaned to the ledge of the cliff and vomited the little contents of his stomach he had left.

The growl of the Cannibal should’ve been terrifying, but you knew in that very moment that he would not kill you. He was just as stunned as you were in the revelation that you uncovered. This dragon was old and no creature had ever lived through his flames. 

Not once. 

Not until now. 

With each step closer, you felt the strength he emanated. Unadulterated raw power flowed through you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes as you stood in the darkness. Bones and the dust of bones that had been stepped on for over a century littered the ground ahead of you. The stench of death and the heady, earthy scent of the dragon hung heavy in the air. 

The light of the moon stopped just ahead of you, but you saw the dragon shift in the darkness, his green eyes glowed from high above. Yellow embers shimmered from his belly, casting a faint glow to the nest from under his black scales, but they only illuminated bright enough to light the stone below him. 

The ground shook beneath your feet as he took long, lumbering steps towards your minuscule frame. You could still feel his flames around you, inside of you, though they weren’t physically there. The Cannibal’s head lowered menacingly and he tilted it to the side to look you over fully with one massive, angry eye. 

“Magnificent.” You whispered. The dragon growled and hummed “Issaros.” Stranger. The name fit him as the dragon himself was synonymous with death. 

Issaros bared his teeth to you, saliva dripping from his maw. The gusts of air from his exhales were like mighty winds from the sea with how close he was. 

“You have been free your whole existence. I do not wish to cage you, to tame you, to bind you to my will. I have great use for you, and you seek death…destruction…flesh.” You could see the interest pique in his eye as he continued to watch you with the threat of his teeth ever present. 

“I will make you an offer: Follow me North and allow me the privilege of riding upon you into battle. In return, I give you the freedom to feast freely upon man and beast alike, but only those I have deemed my enemies. There are plenty, I assure you. You shall never want for blood and flesh again, my friend. After the war is won, you shall return here to the Dragonmont, or any other place you deem worthy to dwell in. You will always have your freedom and regardless of the bond we now share, I will not hold you hostage to me. With this, you have my word.” You stepped closer, bringing a palm up to rest along a spike on his snout. His lips twitched back in warning, but he did not move from you nor did he snap his teeth. Your eyes met his once more.

“Will you accept this?”

Erryk sat outside of the cave in near total silence. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours. He did not know. It wasn’t until the ground beneath him trembled immensely and a black mass exited the cave did he stand. 

Erryk’s hair flew back behind him as the massive dragon flapped his leathery wings and took off into the night sky. He felt the blood drain from his face when he saw a flash of your silver hair upon the Cannibal’s back as he ascended to the stars. 

You spoke truth, Erryk thought as he watched on with mental clarity. The proof was right in front of him and he did not dare blink should this be a figment of his imagination. 

Your head was tilted back and your arms were stretched out to either side of you. The cold wind felt refreshing on your naked flesh as the dragon tore through the sky. 

The deafening roar Issaros let out was bone-chilling and you had never before felt as powerful as you did in that very moment. With this ferocious killing machine beneath you, you would bring death and ruin to Aemond and all he held dear. 

If there was ever a formidable dragon that could battle against the likes of Vhagar, as you had prophesised, it was the dreaded Cannibal. 

What the dragon lacked in size by comparison, he had quadrupled in viciousness, ruthlessness, and cunning. He was a predator through and through, and had no qualms about killing for the sport of it. 

And he deemed you worthy to sit upon him. 

To sit upon a dragon so large was unlike anything you had ever felt. The only other times were when your father had taken you upon Caraxes as a girl, but that had been many years past. This, as an experienced dragon rider, made you feel invincible. 

Issaros screeched at any other dragon who dared to come remotely near him in warning as he glided through the night sky. Most, if not all, knew of his temperament. 

“They are needed.” You called to the dragon. “When this war is over, you may do with them as you wish, but for now they must live.” You felt his irritation, but he heeded your words all the same. 

“If my Maestron were to ever fall, I would surely ride the Cannibal.” It was a prophecy spoken at such a tender age and you didn’t even know it. The words were a fantasy, said in the heat of the moment as a child, but those words had come to pass. Just as Daenys’ prophetic words had come to pass. Just as Aegon’s dream was sure to come to fruition.

The flames of magic flowed through your blood as the Cannibal flew through the skies in a miraculous display. It felt as though your ribs were expanding, like you could take infinite air within your lungs. To feel such an intense connection with such a wild dragon not only mended what Aemond had fractured, but it evolved something else deep within you. 

You wanted blood. 

You wanted retribution. 

You wanted vengeance. 

Erryk’s eyes were wide as he stared openly at you when you exited the cave. Soot painted over your body from the dragon fire and your hair was a mess of tangles from the wind. Streaks of blood littered your nude body from small cuts made by the dragon’s tough scales. 

Erryk quickly removed his cloak when he saw your legs begin to buckle in your delirious steps towards him. When you were clear of the cave’s mouth, he ran to you and swept you into his arms, his warm cloak wrapped around you to preserve your modesty. 

“I need a moment.” You mumbled against his chest. Your hand grasped onto the shoulder strap of his plated armor as he set you in the alcove he had been hidden behind. Erryk made sure his cloak was tightly wrapped around you when you shivered. 

The knight crept over to your discarded belongings to hastily retrieve them. He tried not to jump when he heard the Cannibal’s purr rumble in the darkness, but his heart pounded furiously in his chest as he backed away slowly until he was shielded once more in the alcove. 

Erryk stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you. Sprawled on your back, one arm stretched over your head and the other draped over your stomach. His cloak was pulled up to reveal your legs and covered only your more intimate areas. The ethereal glow of your skin in the moonlight was more than he, a man so strong in his convictions, could handle. 

The scene before him could’ve been a painting, and it would be imprinted on his mind for the rest of his life. You had bewitched him, he thought as his stomach flipped and his heart sang. What he witnessed on this night was more than enough to convince him that you would change the Realm. For better or worse, he could not tell, but he would remain at your side. 

Erryk allowed you a moment’s rest, but the moon was slowly dropping in the sky and the hour of the nightingale would soon be upon you. The lighter it got, the harder it would be to sneak your way back to the stables. 

Erryk turned his back to you so you could sluggishly dress, then he took you in his arms once more to carry you down the Dragonmont. 

Your fluttering eyes met his when he glanced down at you. Your palm came up to rest on his bearded cheek in a sweet caress. 

“Rest, my Princess. I shall wake you when we’ve reached the horses.” 

Days had passed since you took Ser Erryk to the Dragonmont, and he had returned with you every night since. Your trainings had also continued, and just as he promised, you were slowly gaining an understanding of the craft. You were by no means a warrior, but your footwork was improving and you had begun to think on the offense rather than wait to be cornered into defense. 

Since that first night on the Mont, Erryk let his touch linger as he instructed you. He got closer, though it never progressed to anything more. You knew he’d never cross that line, much less put you in such a predicament. Erryk worked his entire life to be at his current station and you would not squander that for him. 

Still, the temptation lit a fire within you with every touch and glance he gave you. The feelings, though they were forbidden, existed all the same. 

At this point in the night Erryk would be waiting for you at the stables, but tonight he was not there by the time you arrived. He’d usually have your horse ready for you, but you didn’t mind saddling it yourself. You were adjusting the straps to the saddle on his borrowed horse when he trotted past you. 

“Ser Erryk!” You called when he didn’t even spare you a glance. He pulled the horse to a stop and turned in your direction. “Where have you been off to?” You questioned in confusion. As far as you knew, he was in his quarters resting before your excursion. 

Erryk looked at you with wide eyes as if he was looking at a ghost. He kept the horse stock still for a moment before dismounting and taking cautious steps closer to you. 

“I had a task set by the Queen, Princess.” You noted that his movements seemed off. His gait held a different stride, and his voice was slightly higher. Brows furrowed, you tilted your head as you continued to analyze him. “I must report back to her at once, Princess.” His tone was impatient and he spoke to you as if you were a stranger. Something must’ve happened for Erryk to be this short with you. 

“In that case, if you do not feel up to the ride, you may stay here. Tonight will be no different than the others.” You offered, knowing he would turn you down. You would give him some time to debrief with your mother and then he would insist on joining you. 

That is…not what happened, much to your surprise. 

“I’m afraid I will not make the ride tonight, Princess.” Odd. “My sincerest apologies.” You gave him a long look, not understanding why he was being so secretive. Relief flashed in his eyes when you nodded and mounted your horse. You tried to not let the flash of hurt you felt cross your features, but you definitely threw him a nasty look. 

“Very well. I shall see you on the morrow.” You tapped the flank of your horse with your heel and turned in the direction of the gates. 

Something rolling in your gut told you to turn back. Erryk’s abnormal behavior did not sit right with you, and you knew back in the stables that you should’ve stayed to push him for further details. Irritated with yourself, you turned your horse around and headed back to the Keep. Issaros would be cross with you, you were sure, but you would address him on your next visit. 

As you got back to the main road, a raven cawed as it flew overhead. Stopping your horse, your head turned to follow the direction it flew in. It was far too late in the night for a raven to fly out of Dragonstone, much less in the direction of- 

Your brain went blank for a moment and realization dawned on you. You kicked your horse sharply and he sprinted into a full gallop to race back to the Keep. 

“It wasn’t Erryk, you fool!” You berated yourself, urging your horse to sprint faster. “It wasn’t Erryk!”

If you weren't simping for Ser Erryk before, you are now. I'm starting a support group.

We're setting things up for absolute mayhem.

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @bellameshipper @praline357 @crazymusicgirl104 @visenyaverse @nina2697 @malfoytargaryen @ana8swift @ladymoon666 @sunmoon-01  @snh96 @louiselouve @neenieweenie @kemillyfreitas

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen #x reader #erryk cargyll x reader #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #ser erryk cargyll

[metaphoricgibberish]

Hi, it’s the annoying Bay Area anon again.

I come with a question more in tune with your blog this time. I’m kind of new to the fandom and was wondering if you could link me to some fic recs. Trying to go through ao3 and tumblr is overwhelming af and I really enjoyed your fics so I’m trusting your judgement lol

if you don't stop calling yourself terrible, undeserving names i will drive out to berkeley right now!

absolutely, of course, i would love to! first and foremost i must mention though, i am a very busy lady and i don't read half the amount of fics i would like to, so this list is just going to be off the top of my head, fics that have stuck with me and/or absolutely wrecked me, but i try to reblog stuff as i read it as well so keep an eye out for that.

Literally anything by @netherfeildren - Vic is an actual genius wordsmith and i worship the ground she walks on probably to a degree that freaks her out. you can't go wrong with any of her fics. Pink and Fear of God are my person favs tho.

Your Summer Dream by @swiftispunk - absolutely incredible, vacation!joel AU that i'm so obsessed with that i check daily like a madwoman for updates.

Lavender and Halcyon by @justagalwhowrites - Lavender is completed and probably thee quintessential Joel fic. Halcyon is a no breakout AU that i just started reading and also check for updates like a woman starved.

everything written by @the-ginger-hedge-witch - her series (which she's turning into a book because she's brilliant) Crush, is what made me start writing my first Javier Peña fic. Highly recommend her Joel boxer AU fic called Breakout.

Rough Day by @no-droids - obviously. this is probably the most famous fanfic the entire pedro fandom has. incredible work, everyone knows that.

Of Constellations & Creeds on AO3 - idk if this author has a tumblr, i read this ages ago and i don't think it was ever finished, but it is so fucking good, Mando a/b/o dynamics. i think about this fic more than i should.

forever is the sweetest con on AO3 - also unsure if this author has a tumblr (please if anyone sees this and knows any of the authors for the fics i've left untagged let me know) but i think i've read this fic like 20 times. reader is the daughter of a prepper, Joel and Tommy stubble into town and he's immediately smitten by her. takes place over several years. angst is so fucking good, and a wonderful payoff.

okay that's all off the top of my head, but there's thousands more that are incredible and amazing. i try to reblog things as i read, so just scroll through my blog for more recs!

hope you're doing well! i know it's quite a dreary week in the bay right now, hoping to see some sun soon!

#fic recs

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 9: Something So Brand New

Summary: Theo makes good on her promise to Loki, and shenanigans ensue.

Author's Notes: So this is a longer chapter than I usually post, but given it all takes place during the span of one evening it didn’t make sense to split into two chapters. If you love Loki/Theo interactions, you’re in for a treat here. There’s also Brodinsons and Wanda/Theo friendship building as well. 

I’m *hoping* to post my next chapter on December 10, but I sense that we’re about to hit a rocky patch at my job as a series of stressors all collide (aka shit’s about to hit the fan), so I’m going to give myself a one week buffer and say that the chapter will be up by no later than December 17th. It’s written, but I’ve found that I like to go back and do an in-depth editing pass before posting that usually takes at least a few hours… Essentially, I would rather underpromise and overdeliver than say I’ll post something and then just… not. 

Oh, and RE: shit hitting the fan at work - I’m not worried about myself amidst the work stuff (I’m not about to lose my job or anything). I'm worried about the students I work with and how they’ll handle everything… And since my job is supporting said students, I imagine I’ll probably have my hands full. I’m intentionally being vague for privacy reasons, and in hopes that it doesn’t blow up so my concern is pointless. 

Completely unrelated, but I saw The Maine live last week and they opened with this song! They put on a great live show. 10/10 do recommend. 

If you enjoy, please reblog!! I'm a lil' blog and reblogs really help me out <3

Content Warnings: Alcohol/Drinking (including getting a bit too drunk). 

Word Count: 9,384

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Dose No. 2 - The Maine

First breath out of a coma Over and over Oh what a lovely view of you  A two step into disorder I stumble forward Towards something so brand new

“Hey, uh - some of us are going to hang out up on the roof tonight. Want to join?” 

Ever since Theo relented to Loki’s begging (and though he wouldn’t admit it, he totally begged her to join them), a foreboding sense of dread hung over Theo like a storm cloud, waiting for this very moment. A night of forced socializing and feigned pleasantries as the other Avengers tried not to make their suspicions about Theo painfully obvious - Theo would rather watch paint dry.

Across the threshold, hope radiated through the smile on Wanda’s face. She stood with hands in hoodie pockets, jeans and birkenstocks completing the Scarlet Witch’s look for that day. The outfit surprised Theo - from observation, Wanda only wore pants when working out, opting for skirts and dresses in daily life. Theo would have confidently bet real money that Wanda didn’t even own a pair of jeans.

Then again, it wasn’t the first time Theo was wrong, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Every possible excuse percolated in Theo’s mind for why she couldn’t join - lying about having plans, claiming she was tired or didn’t feel well, even outright admitting she didn’t want to go – but then Loki’s voice interrupted her thoughts, reminding her about the deal she struck.

And, well, after reading about the aftermath of Ultron and Sokovia, Theo realized they had more in common than she first thought.

“I— yeah, sure.”  Theo swallowed thickly, steeling herself for a miserable evening. She forced a smile at Wanda, praying that the expression didn’t look as uncomfortable as it felt. “I’ll join - let me grab a couple things first.”

Wanda’s face lit up, eyes wide as planets as she processed Theo's answer. “Great! This is going to be awesome! Uh, you should probably grab shoes, and maybe a jacket - it’s still a bit cool out.” She babbled, still gaping at Theo.

Theo held up a finger, stepping away from the door before Wanda could continue. She grabbed a thick sweater to cut the breeze, toed on some sneakers, and plopped a beanie over her hair, pausing in front of a mirror to make sure she didn’t look like a total mess.

Wanda practically bounced down the hall, constantly glancing back to check and make sure Theo hadn’t abandoned her. Theo trailed behind, listening to Wanda recount the construction of the rooftop lounge and how this was the first year they actually could use the space, and how excited they were to finally have a nice, private outdoor space to gather. At best, Theo half-listened along, her pulse quickening with every step closer to their destination. 

As they stepped out onto the rooftop, it actually seemed like the perfect night to enjoy a city skyline and a cold drink.

A fully stocked bar stood along the far end of the roof, while plenty of outdoor seating offered opportunities for everything from lounging around to enjoying a meal. The space even featured a fireplace table and heat lamps for cooler nights, which already had been turned on to cut the chill. True to the Stark aesthetic, all of the furniture came in muted tones and clean lines, sharing design language with the indoor common areas.

The other Avengers had settled in among a series of outdoor sectionals, some standing around the periphery while others gathered near the bar. As they drew closer, Theo realized that the company for the evening consisted of not only Avengers Tower residents, the Avengers who resided elsewhere…

Oh god, when Theo caved to Loki’s request, she had not expected it to play out like this; she thought it would be a movie night, or going out to dinner. Not everyone and their mother staring at her.

As if she sensed Theo’s nervousness, Wanda grabbed Theo’s hand and smiled at her, pulling her towards the larger group.

With every step, Theo braced herself for an icy reception, all the while building up the courage to put on a brave face. She met everyone once, that first day when she was announced as an Avenger - maybe twice, if she counted the briefing that she crashed - so at least there were no new faces.

Small blessings, she supposed.

Wanda didn’t go of Theo’s hand until they reached the edge of the group. It only took Wanda a moment to find Vision, standing behind one of the sectionals as he chatted with Shuri about something very science-y. Vision casually wrapped an arm around her, listening intently to Shuri, who gestured animatedly as she responded. 

Nearby, King T’Challa sat tall, dressed in a hybrid of western and African clothing with shoulders squared back as he conversed with Natasha about the United Nations and Wakanda. He spoke with a measured cadence that indicated he put great thought and intent into his words. On the opposite side of Natasha, Yelena slouched back in her seat, scrolling through her phone while laughing at something on screen. 

Not far from Yelena, Peter Parker told Tony about school and the latest device he was building. His enthusiasm struck Theo, and she caught herself smiling as she noticed the way Peter mirrored Shuri’s animated gestures, hands flailing wildly as he attempted to describe the contraption. Colonel Rhodes listened from the other side of Tony, with open posture and head tilted to the side, nodding along patiently… It was quite the contrast, especially next to the borderline manic tendencies of Tony and Peter’s unbridled enthusiasm. 

Nearby, Bruce spoke with Dr. Stephen Strange - a tall, thin man whose expression was entirely too serious and his posture uncomfortably rigid, which, if Theo thought about it, made sense for a former neurosurgeon. Sharon Carter chatted with Steve, Sam, and Bucky, laughter regularly erupting from the quartet; apparently, they were familiar with each other and had a lot to catch up on. 

Clint looked at home behind the bar with Scott Lang, snippets of conversation about their kids floating over the other conversations as they prepared drinks for everyone and brought them over to the group. 

Loki and Thor sat in deep discussion with the Valkyrie (or, as Loki often called her, Val) about something related to New Asgard; seeing a Valkyrie in a chunky sweater and Timbalands still threw Theo for a loop, but she knew that different people would adapt different aspects of life on Earth. 

Thor noticed Theo standing there, bewildered at the sight of everyone in one location.

“Lady Theo!” Thor exclaimed, standing to greet her. “Welcome to your first family night!”

Wait - did he just say family night?

Theo could practically hear the world screech to a halt as everyone fell silent, gaping at the new addition. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she froze in place, a veritable deer in the headlights.

“Brother—“ Loki hissed, rolling his eyes as he elbowed his brother. “Do not overwhelm her.”

“Uh… hi?” Theo cringed at how pathetic she sounded. “Sorry, didn’t mean to disrupt.”

“No apologies necessary - come, take a seat.“ Loki offered Theo a reassuring smile as he gestured for her to sit next to him. 

“Watch out, the prince is rescuing Rapunzel.” Tony teased, a smirk on his face as he raised a glass to her.

“Watch out everyone, Stark is jealous that a woman is not racing to offer herself up to him,” Loki retorted, sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

Raucous laughter came from Loki’s response; even Theo giggled as she sank into the cushions beside him. Loki, in turn, flashed a smirk and winked at her, before effortlessly folding Theo into the Asgardians’ conversation. Without needing to ask, Scott brought Theo an old fashioned, which caused a rush of gratitude to flood Theo’s veins.

The alcohol wouldn’t have much of an effect on her, but having something to occupy her hands with was always appreciated.

Likewise, the others returned to their conversations. Over time, topics shifted and incorporated other people, slowly snowballing as everyone tuned into the larger discussions.

At one natural lull in conversation, Loki went to refill his drink, leaving a vacant spot beside Theo in the process. He barely made it behind the bar when, with a whoop, Shuri leapt over the sectional and claimed the seat as her own. “Ha ha!” Shuri’s face was smug as she shimmied into the cushion, crossing one leg over the other as she stretched her arms along the back of the seat. “This will make a lovely throne.”

Despite the stutter of her heart from Shuri startling her, Theo couldn’t help but laugh when she caught T’Challa rolling his eyes at his sister.

“Excuse me, that was my seat!” Loki scowled, gesturing wildly to where he previously sat.

“Not anymore.” Shuri stuck her tongue out at him. “Besides, you speak to Theo all the time. It’s my turn.” 

The latter part of Shuri’s comment nearly made Theo choke on her drink - up until that point, hardly any attention was paid to Theo’s presence. Was that about to change?

“You are lucky I like you, princess,” Loki rolled his eyes, but let out a breathless laugh and shook his head. “Or else I might banish you to an alternate realm.” His threat lacked any teeth; if anything, it came off as a joke. He offered Theo a reassuring glance and the slightest nod, as if encouraging Theo to trust that Shuri wouldn’t make it weird.

Theo masked her nerves with a sip of her cocktail, allowing the notes of smoke and citrus to coat her tongue. 

If Shuri noticed the interaction, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she struck up a conversation about a funny tiktok trend that made her think of Theo, eventually morphing into a conversation about medical technology.

Seat stealing, however, was only the prelude to a series of hijinks during the evening.

It started innocently enough. A few drinks into the evening, Tony entertained the team with one of his tales about inventions gone wrong - this time, DUM-E had sprayed a visiting SHIELD agent with a fire extinguisher instead of the computer that actually caught on fire. 

While he rambled, Wanda glanced over and made eye contact with Theo. Wanda rolled her eyes before mouthing, “Want to see something fun?”

Theo nodded, curious to see what Wanda was going to do. 

A moment later, Tony reached forward to grab his drink and take a sip of it, only to stick his hand through the glass…

Where a nearly empty cocktail previously sat was nothing more than an illusion. 

Theo’s eyes darted to Wanda, who stood behind Tony sipping his drink. Theo had to bite back a laugh as Wanda grimaced and shook her head, not a fan of whatever Tony had in his lowball. 

“What the hell happened to my drink?” Tony whipped around, looking to see if someone had hidden it. His eyes settled on Loki, who glanced around at the others as he held his own drink, casually taking a swig. Either Loki hadn’t noticed, or he was really good at keeping a straight face. 

“Reindeer games, I swear to god-”

“I thought we’d moved past such childish accusations.” Loki cocked an eyebrow at him, unamused. 

“He didn’t move, Stark. Chill.” Bucky defended the Asgardian prince.

“Well someone took it, and it wasn’t Captain Stick-in-the-Mud.” Tony retorted, looking around the group. The glass vanished from Wanda’s hand before Tony could see it, presumably returning to the table where it started. 

“Okay guys, this isn’t funny,” Tony whined, completely oblivious to his beverage’s return to the table. 

To her left, Theo caught Loki taking a large drink of whatever was in his cup to stifle a laugh – he knew exactly what Wanda was up to. 

Just then, Tony turned back around to discover his drink in its original location. He groaned, slouching back in his seat. “Anyone who wants to turn in their cape for stand-up comedy, just let me know.”

As he returned to his story, Wanda winked at Theo before sending her a text message– “So we have a game during family time...” 

Theo stared at the screen for a moment before typing out a reply. “Which is…?”

Wanda’s face lit up as she read the message; a playful smile pulled across her lips as she typed out a reply. “How many pranks can we pull off before one of us starts laughing.”

Suddenly, a message from Loki popped up as well. “The only rule is that no one should be harmed. Otherwise, it’s fair game.”

Oh. Apparently Loki was playing along too.

Another message from Wanda came in: “You want in?”

Tempting, but with her reputation…

“Sounds fun, but not sure…” Theo responded, “I don’t know that the others trust me. Pranking them might make it worse.”

“If anything, they’ll believe I am the perpetrator,” Loki assured her via text message. “My affiliation with mischief and trickery lends itself to suspicion.”

Not only did Loki speak like he just read a thesaurus, but he even texted like it.

Theo stared at the screen for a moment, weighing her options. On one hand, she could stand to loosen up a little and have some fun. On the other hand, pranking someone could go over like a lead balloon if the prank didn’t land well; she needed to be confident that whoever she pranked would not be upset if she partook.

By then, Sam launched into a story about his last trip to see his sister and nephews in Louisiana. Bucky had tagged along, in part because the point of the trip was to fix up the Wilsons’ boat, and Sam knew he’d need an extra set of hands. A pigeon waddled about on the roof, only a few feet from where Sam sat. Sam, however, was oblivious to the bird’s presence; he was too busy mimicking how Bucky stole Sam’s tools to fix a leaky valve instead of simply using his vibranium arm.

After over a month of listening to Julie pine endlessly over Sam and his down to earth personality, ass of a national treasure, and good-natured sense of humor, Theo swore she knew more about Sam than she knew about her own cousin…

An idea sprung to Theo’s mind. She set her glass on the table, casually lowered her hands out of sight, and whispered an incantation. 

“How do you know vibranium would hold up to the steam?” The pigeon asked, cocking its head to the side as it waited for an answer.

Sam nearly leapt out of his seat as his eyes bugged out of his head.

“Wait a minute, wait just a minute – please tell me you all just heard that.” Sam stared at the others as they all gawked at the pigeon. Theo, however, snatched her glass and took a sip of her old fashioned so she didn’t give herself away. “Did that bird just talk?”

“Falcon, I did not realize that your skill set included speaking to birds.” Loki answered without missing a beat. 

Theo nearly spit out her drink as she fought the urge to burst into laughter.  

“Hey, just because I’m called Falcon doesn’t mean I like birds.” Sam argued, a twinkle in his eye as he settled back into his chair. He must have known there was some magic at play; if Theo was lucky, he would not know whose magic created the illusion.

“I want some of whatever he’s drinking,” Theo pointed at Sam, pretending to be oblivious about the use of magic so she did not draw suspicion. “Because that must be some good shit.” 

“No,” Tony replied, “The good shit is the Asgardian stuff.” 

“That stuff will knock you on your ass unless you’re a god,” Sam agreed with a toothy grin and a nod. “Even the super soldiers get drunk on it.”

“Tony, I’m assuming you tried it?” Sharon asked, narrowing her eyes at the billionaire.

“Of course I did,” he scoffed, putting a hand on his chest, “I am a connoisseur - had to see if the hype was true.”

“Until you had the hangover from hell the next day.” Natasha pointed out, a smirk dancing on her lips while she crossed her arms.

“Please,” Tony retorted, “It barely holds a candle to the frat party from hell-”

“-in your second year at MIT.” Rhodes, Sam, and Steve answered simultaneously, all rolling their eyes.

Tony must have told that particular story a time or twenty before.

“Lady Theo,” Thor called from behind the bar. “I’m about to refill my beverage. Would you like to try some Asgardian ale?” 

Theo glanced over at Loki and raised her eyebrows at him, hoping he’d give her some sort of subtle cue about whether it was a good idea; he just smirked at her and winked. 

Not helpful at all.

Then again, the night had gone well up to that point…

“Sure, why not?” Theo replied with a short shrug of her shoulders. She assumed that he’d take a shot glass from the bar and put a little ale in the glass - it may fuck up a normal person, but that was probably only when consumed in large quantities. A small amount of the ale wouldn’t hurt, right?

What she didn’t expect was Thor to bring over a massive mug of ale, filled to the brim. 

“That’s alcohol poisoning about to happen,” Yelena cracked up as she saw the size of the mug. 

Nearby, the Valkyrie cackled. “Thor, remember that Midgardians can’t handle booze like you can.”

“My liver hurts just looking at that.” Bruce commented, letting out a nervous chuckle but shaking his head.

Well, whether she wanted to share or not, the Avengers were going to learn something new about Theo.

“Oh, that’s what healing magic is for. Healing your liver after alcohol damage.” Theo quipped, earning a surprised snort out of Tony. A surge of confidence rushed through her as she winked, glanced at the deep red, clear liquid, then took a drink.

Given the ale’s reputation, Theo expected it to taste like everclear - practically straight ethanol that burned when consumed. However, a delightful, complex blend of flavors - citrus, juniper, and caramel - coated her mouth. Only a hint of hoppy bitterness accompanied, but each flavor in the unlikely combination balanced the others surprisingly well.

Theo smiled and gave Thor a nod of approval. “That’s better than I expected,” she admitted before she took another drink. “I was expecting something that burned my mouth from the alcohol content, but this is downright pleasant.” 

“I bet you twenty bucks you can’t finish that.” Bucky challenged, a smirk spread across his features as he leaned back into his seat. 

Bucky had no idea what he was getting himself into.

“The bet is just that I can’t finish it? That’s boring. Of course I’m going to finish it.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. Sitting up a bit taller, she puffed her chest out in defiance and drank a large swig of ale.

“The real bet would be if she doesn’t throw it up afterwards – just because it goes into her system doesn’t mean she won’t get sick from it.” Steve pointed out, “Not that I think this is a good idea, mind you.” 

Remarks like that were probably how Steve earned the nickname of “Captain Stick-in-the-Mud.” 

Theo whipped out her wallet, throwing a $20 bill down on the table. “Game on. $20 bet that I can drink this and keep it all down.”

Bucky reached across to shake Theo’s hand before putting in his own $20 bill. 

Shuri and Yelena whooped in support, pumping their fists in the air. Bruce sighed as he shook his head and rubbed his temples. Steve rolled his eyes, while Clint smirked and shot Scott a look of well, this should get interesting. Peter’s eyes widened, despite furrowing his brow - he looked like he was worried.

What a sweet, sweet summer child.

Theo took another sip of the ale, then spoke up. “We need some tunes playing. It’s too quiet up here.” 

“Oh! I have some new music we can listen to!” Wanda jumped at the opportunity to hook her phone up to the wireless speakers. “It’s a local band that Vision and I saw last week. Theo, I think you’d like them – they sounded kind of like the music your band played.”

It was hard to imagine Vision at a concert, standing there with relatively stiff posture as other people were grooving to the music… He must have really liked Wanda to let her bring him to concerts. Did he like the same music as her?

Did he even like music?

Did androids have likes and dislikes? Or feelings? How did that work?

That was a rabbit hole to go down another day.

What sounded like some generic indie-pop music started to float through the air, but it was pleasant enough to be good background music. 

Loki sent another message – this time solely to Theo. “Are you truly planning to drink the entire mug?” Theo looked up at him, his eyebrow cocked up with skepticism and his chin dipped as he made eye contact.

“Maybe I am.” Theo replied, smiling at him and winking as his phone buzzed. 

Asgard wasn’t the only realm with particularly strong alcohol, and despite Theo’s small size she was no lightweight.

The group resumed their casual chatter. Wanda, Theo, and Loki continued to cast illusions and mess with the team in subtle ways, oftentimes struggling to maintain a poker face as the rest of the team grew drunker and drunker, and as a result became much easier to mess with. 

Eventually, Thor regaled the team with one of his latest adventures off-planet, voice booming as he gestured grandly about some battle he fought in. As the story started to near its climax, Theo caught the way Loki’s hand moved quietly to his side and twitched as he cast a spell.  

Theo’s eyes darted around as she tried to figure out what changed – it wasn’t until she looked up at Thor that she found her answer: 

Loki transformed Thor’s mug so it was shaped like a giant penis… while Thor drank out of it.

Wanda, who stood beyond Thor’s line of sight, lost it, face beet red and shoulders bouncing as she doubled over in silent laughter.

From what Loki previously shared, Thor reveled in sharing stories where he prevailed as the savior of the day. With that in mind, the choice to make Thor look absolutely ridiculous as he drunkenly extolled his heroism seemed like it was as much a jab at his self-importance as it was just plain old hilarious. Theo hadn’t taken Loki to be one for juvenile humor, but she had to hand it to him – it was well-played.

Even better, Thor didn’t even notice the change – he set the mug down on the table as he continued his story, and later on picked it up to take a swig to wet his throat. 

It didn’t take long before the others started to notice the mug’s new shape. The Valkyrie looked like she about to keel over; her shoulders shook so hard from silent laughter that if Thor turned around he’d know something was off. Natasha had to bite her finger to stop herself from breaking into laughter. Steve and Peter shared wide-eye, startled expressions, leaning away from Thor… who still hadn’t noticed.

The more time that passed without Thor noticing, the funnier the spectacle became.

Finally, Sam finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“Wow Thor, you’re really swallowing that ale like a champ.”

Tony choked, then spat out his drink while the people around him recoiled from the spray. Steve turned downright crimson with secondhand embarrassment, hiding his face behind his hands. 

“Yeah, you’re really gripping the shaft of the mug like it’s your job.” Bucky added, trying and failing to keep a straight face as Thor looked over at Tony and Steve, confused.

Theo’s eyes watered from trying not to laugh, and her jaw hurt from the muscle tension involved with maintaining her poker face.

“Dammit, I’m biting my tongue so hard to stop from laughing that it’s bleeding.” Wanda’s message popped up in the group chat, while Loki still effortlessly maintained a completely straight poker face and relaxed posture. 

“I thought you were a bit too high-brow for a good dick joke…” Theo added, fingers tapping the screen furiously as she replied.

“I know not of what you speak,” Loki answered innocently; he glanced over at Theo and winked, then followed his message with an eggplant emoji. 

Wanda nearly spit out her drink when she got that message.

Thor finally put two-and-two together as he looked down at his mug, then glared at his brother; however, he was laughing despite the glare, giant shoulders bouncing up and down. “Why must you taunt me so?”

“I hold no responsibility for this madness!” Loki protested, though the sparkle in his eyes told Theo that Loki knew he wasn’t going to convince them otherwise. “God of mischief I may be, but I’m hardly the only capable sorcerer on this team.”

“Well Theo’s been too busy downing some Asgardian ale,” Bucky commented, “And Wanda… Wait a minute. Wanda?”

They all turned to look at Wanda, who gave a deer-in-the-headlights expression as she pretended to be horrified. “The fact that you could imagine me doing this is mildly offensive,” she exclaimed, silently glaring at Loki. “Besides, Strange can cast spells too.”

Everyone looked over at Dr. Strange; one unamused eyebrow raise was enough to dispel any thoughts that he’d been the one behind it.

“Let’s be real – Reindeer games would be the one to make that joke.” Tony pointed out, “Which… well played, I’ve gotta say. Not much makes me spit out my drink like that.”

Loki smirked, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “You need to raise your standards, Stark.”

Steve, who was still mostly sober and desperate for a change of topic, looked back at Theo and noticed her nearly empty mug. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about finishing the ale.”

In turn, Theo downed the remaining ale and placed the mug on the table. “Yeah – It was good. But I’ve gotta say, for all the talk about how it will get me drunk, I still feel pretty sober. Are you sure you weren’t messing with me? This isn’t some fraternity-style hazing thing to bring a new team member on board?”

“No, my lady,” Thor confirmed, “That was genuine Asgardian ale. I must say, I’m impressed.”

Theo cast a glance over to Loki before sending a text. “You didn’t mess with this, did you?”

“I would never deny someone the opportunity to get drunk.” Loki looked dead serious as he sent the message, so she took his word for it.

“Well shit,” Bucky replied, his words slurring ever-so-slightly from his own alcohol consumption. “How about double or nothing – we each drink a mug of ale, and whoever is more sober at the end of the night gets $40.”

Steve tried to cut in. “Bucky, no –“

Bucky, yes.

“Deal.” Theo shook his hand again, confident that she was about to become $40 richer. Not only was Bucky already more drunk than her, but the Asgardian ale would only exacerbate the difference in their sobriety levels. 

He probably wouldn’t end up with alcohol poisoning, so it’d be fine. Maybe a hangover, but not alcohol poisoning.

“Now here’s the thing -” Bucky began, “- Before your mug can be refilled, you have to do the Asgardian call for another drink.” 

“Which is…?” Theo arched a wary eyebrow, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

With perfect timing, Thor finished his beverage and demonstrated by throwing his mug down on the ground, shouting “ANOTHER!” as the glass smashed against the concrete and shattered into a million pieces.

Theo gasped and nearly flew out of her seat from the noise, heart pounding in her chest. She looked at the glistening fragments of glass, then up at Thor, then back down at the glass.

.  

Thor failed to stifle his laughter as Loki rolled his eyes in the background; with a flick of his wrist, the shards of glass vanished in a flash of emerald light. 

“Yeah that’s going to be a hard pass from me, dude.” Theo shook her head, stood up and walked over to the bar to refill mug. While she was behind the bar, she also pulled out a fresh mug for Bucky.

“Oh no, you don’t get to pour – we need someone neutral to do it, so we know it hasn’t been messed with!” Bucky called out, shaking his head at her as he moved to join her at the bar.

“Well I can certainly be the judge of that.” Loki volunteered, his voice a cool contrast to the rambunctious shouting and cheering that echoed from the rooftop.

“You’re really letting loose tonight,” Loki’s message appeared on Theo’s phone. “It’s nice to see you relax a bit.” Theo blushed and cracked a sheepish smile.

Loki strolled behind the bar, took both mugs and filled them up. Once satisfied that each mug contained the same amount of ale, he handed one mug to Bucky and the other to Theo. He then filled a mug of his own before returning to the rest of the group.

“As the judge, I reserve all right to document any embarrassing moments for blackmail in the future.” Loki told everyone quite seriously.  Shuri cracked up and added that if Loki didn’t capture the evidence, she certainly would, and with how the Princess of Wakanda held her phone at the ready, Theo fully believed her.. Theo returned to her seat, noticing Shuri had saved her place; Bucky trailed close behind.

“You say that like I’m going to do something embarrassing.” Theo teased, holding her mug up to Bucky and Loki as if to suggest a toast. “To Bucky making one of the dumbest bets he’ll ever make.” 

“To the new girl finally gracing us with her presence,” Bucky replied with a wide grin, “and not realizing she’s about to lose the bet!” 

The rest of the group held up their glasses and clinked them together, after which Bucky managed to drain about a quarter of his mug in one swift drink. 

“I didn’t realize this was a chugging contest.” Bruce commented with a nervous laugh as Bucky set his mug down.

Theo, recognizing that rapid alcohol consumption would not help Bucky in the bet, snickered. “You can’t enjoy it if you chug it, you know that right?”

Bucky offered a coy grin in response, his cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol in his veins.

He really had no idea what he was in for.

And I feel alright (Feel alright) Yeah I feel alright, Alright… I let go This is something spiritual When I say so Give me life, give me love Leveled up on a higher dose No sorrow (baby this is chemical) Hit just like an antidote (can’t come down, down) Adios (give me, yeah give me) Give me life, give me love  Leveled up on a higher dose

This was certainly a different side to Theo than Loki had ever seen.

Her guard wasn’t up in the same way it was at Stark’s party, nor was she silent and reserved, as if it were a mission briefing or meeting. The relaxed, easygoing demeanor that Loki eventually uncovered after multiple interactions made its debut amongst the others, and for the first time since the infamous briefing, it seemed like Theo wasn’t afraid to be the center of attention.

In truth, Theo’s decision to join in the evening’s activities surprised Loki. Though Theo agreed to stop declining the invitations from Maximoff, Loki had expected that this would not be the occasion which Theo relented, as the large group could be rather intimidating. Instead, he anticipated that Theo would wait until she could verify that it would be a small gathering with ample opportunities to depart, should she grow uncomfortable.

Instead, the sight of Theo trailing behind Maximoff as they crossed the rooftop brought the first of many pleasant surprises in the evening. If the expression Theo wore when Thor addressed her provided any indication, Theo had not anticipated such a robust gathering, and for a moment Loki feared she might teleport away from the immense attention suddenly focused on her.

Luckily, that had not been the case. From time to time, Loki caught Theo glancing towards him with a silent question in her eyes, usually as if trying to assess the situation, but as the evening wore on the questioning glances decreased, replaced by smirks and thinly veiled attempts to refrain from laughing at the others. 

Perhaps the greatest surprise in the evening came when Theo agreed to not only try some Asgardian ale, but challenge Barnes to what one might consider a drinking contest with the aforementioned ale. Given Barnes held two significant advantages - his substantially larger size and the physiological changes from the super-soldier serum - the odds seemed stacked against the sorceress. If anything, Loki suspected that hubris fueled Theo’s decision.

However, he was far too curious about the outcome to consider intervening unless things turned sour, and up to that point he saw no cause for concern. Theo seemed fine, continuing to engage in conversation while working through her beverage. Occasionally, Loki caught himself staring at Theo’s petite hands, her dainty fingers wrapped around the massive mug of ale. If he could be honest with himself, The juxtaposition was rather adorable.

Barnes, unsurprisingly, was the first to finish his ale. Theo, however, was not far behind.

“I have a proposition.” Banner spoke up, looking between the empty mugs with a twinkle in his eye. “I think we should give these two a field sobriety test and see who is more sober… For science, of course.”

Loki, unfamiliar with the test Banner mentioned, hesitated. “And what exactly does a Midgardian sobriety test entail?” 

“Oh, it’s easy.” Theo assured him, standing up and stretching both arms overhead. “You just answer some questions and do some basic tasks, like walking in a straight line and balancing on one foot for a while.”

Loki studied Theo with some doubt; when she didn’t notice, he messaged her. “Are you certain it will be so simple?”

Theo typed and sent her reply without even looking at her mobile’s screen. “Bucky’s about to get destroyed.”

Barnes swayed the moment he stood up, nearly tripping over his own feet as he made his way towards the area where they set up the test. He hadn’t even walked half of the line marked out before it became clear as crystal that Barnes was utterly toasted.

Theo, meanwhile, seemed only lightly buzzed. She easily completed the straight line test… while walking on her hands. 

“A woman after my own heart,” Romanoff laughed, clapping as Theo finished the test. “It’s not often we have team members who are able to move like that.”

“Girl, you’ve gotta teach me how to do that,” Shuri exclaimed, “That’s dope as hell!”

Theo gracefully returned to her feet, pausing for just a moment to adjust her clothes before she feigned a curtsy and smirked at Barnes, who simply groaned from where he sat.

From what little Loki knew of Theo’s background, the ability to walk on her hands came as no surprise - she had formal training in acrobatic maneuvers, and her goaltending demonstration highlighted her agility. Yet, she did not seem like the sort who would walk on her hands for fun… Though from what he had seen, she certainly was the sort of person who would do so to prove a point. Quite frankly, It was the kind of thing that Loki might do if he were in her position.

All things considered, it seemed like Theo might share Loki’s penchant for mischief and trickery.

“Normally gods are the only ones who don't get knocked on their ass by Asgardian ale.” Stark commented, brow furrowed and eyes narrow as he studied Theo. 

“Asgard isn’t the only place with abnormally strong liquor,” Theo casually explained, shaking out her shoulders and stretching her neck. “There really are some places with nothing better to do than drown your sorrows!” 

Loki couldn’t help but laugh at her comment, though the choice of words piqued his curiosity. Of course there was the realm she refused to speak of, yet it sounded as if Theo referred to more than one location. Had she visited other realms as well?

Surely, she was exaggerating.

“You’re talking about Michigan, right?” Stark teased.

“No, I’m talking about spending time with you.” Theo deadpanned, winning a lively round of jeers and laughter of the group.

Not done showing off, Theo proceeded to balance on one foot for five minutes while casually discussing the merits of different types of alcohol that she’d encountered and how the Midgardian body metabolized alcohol, far longer than the 30 seconds that were required for a field sobriety test (at least, according to Doctor Banner). Gesturing vivaciously as she spoke, Theo’s eyes lit up with amusement as the others laughed along with her commentary.

As someone who was an expert at embellishing stories, Loki could tell when Theo added flourishes or exaggerated details. However, any talented storyteller understood that the best tales required a bit of panache, and Theo was no exception. While the others may not have noticed, to Loki, it was painfully obvious that Theo knew she was putting on a show. 

“Okay, I think at this point there’s a pretty clear winner.” Rhodes snickered as Barnes laid down on a sofa, complaining about the way the world spun..

Theo happily took the $40 that Barnes previously threw down on the table, smirking as she dramatically tucked it into her wallet.

“Is anyone hungry? I could go for some pizza right about now.” Maximoff asked, looking around at the others.

“FRI, you heard the lady!” Stark lifted his head as he spoke up to no one in particular. “Well… I was actually thinking we could go out for pizza?” Maximoff suggested, shrugging her shoulders as she pointed behind herself towards the elevator.

Frankly, after such lively conversation and company, Loki was nowhere near ready to turn in for the night… Even if “going out” was not his preferred activity, perhaps it was worth accompanying the others on their venture.

“As much as I’d love to, I should probably make sure Bucky gets to bed in one piece.” Rogers replied, his point amplified by Barnes’ unintelligible grumbles.

“Yeah, it’s getting late –” Banner glanced at his watch before he stood up. “I’m ready to call it a night.” 

“I’d join you.” Loki nodded at Maximoff, lightly shrugging his shoulders. 

“Pizza sounds like fun.” Belova pushed herself up from her seat. “I’d go.”

“I’m down!” Shuri added, stretching as she rose to her feed. 

Theo had yet to respond, eyes darting between the others as they responded. She didn’t seem tired, but experience indicated she would not opt-in unless clearly invited to attend 

“The night is young – why not enjoy some excellent company for a little longer?” Turning to Theo, Loki offered a wry smile as he offered a hand to help her up. “Would you care to join? I suspect Maximoff would even let you select the pizza place…” He shot a knowing glance to Maximoff, who grinned and nodded.

“Sure, I suppose I can come along.” Theo perked up, mirroring Loki’s smile as she accepted the gesture, and allowed Loki to pull her to her feet. “I’m not sure what my options are for pizza around here, so I would defer to someone else to choose.”

Loki felt a bit of heat creep up on his cheeks - he ought to have remembered that Theo only recently became a resident of Midtown, so her knowledge of local eateries would be limited at best.

“Oh, there’s lots of great options nearby!” Parker exclaimed, bouncing up from his seat. “My favorite is–”

“She didn’t tell you to pick a place,” Shuri held a hand out to stop him as she smirked.

Parker replied with a pout, crossing his arms to make a point.

“If you tell me what place you want to go to, I’ll suggest it,” Theo winked at the spiderling.

“That’s not how this works!” Shuri protested, turning to Theo and covering her heart with mock offense.

“Okay, okay,” Theo held up her hands, laughing as she shook her head. “Wanda, pick a place since you wanted pizza and I have no idea what’s good around here.”

“I can do that - Vis, you coming?” Maximoff beamed at Vision, reaching for his hand.

“I shall accompany you.”

And off they went, in search of pizza.

Mic check  - say hi to LoLo Goodbye to normal Welcome to your mad world Where you can forget  About your boredom From this day forward Well I will give you love on every level

If anyone had asked Theo that morning how she expected her evening to go, drinking a supersoldier under the table and then going out for pizza at one in the morning with some of the Avengers would not have come to mind. Yet, in another edition of “my life is stranger than fiction,” that was exactly how Theo’s night played out.

The pizza place Wanda recommended was fairly close to Avengers tower - down an alleyway and through a side door, the restaurant sat tucked in the basement of a bar that Theo recognized because she played a couple shows there a while ago.. 

When they first walked in, the atmosphere practically screamed “hole in the wall.” The lights were kept low - low enough that it was easy to hide the dirt permanently coated on the floors. The smell of cheese and cheap beer lingered in the air. Even at the late hour, the place was packed. Perhaps the low light was to their advantage - no one seemed to notice the group of superheroes as they made their entrance, which was a relief. It took Theo back to the midnight hours in Durham. Her friends drunkenly crowded into booths for food after spending the night getting guys to buy out the bar for them. Theo had to play along in those days in order to hide her magic and its effects on her body - however, the lack of drunkenness meant she was still able to recall the exact way the place felt. And this… this felt all too familiar. 

When they found an empty booth, they wasted no time claiming it as their own, even if it meant they had to squish together so everyone fit. With the way they packed themselves together, Theo couldn’t help but notice Loki’s body against hers, steady and firm without encroaching on her personal space. Loki may have been her first friend among the Avengers, but that didn’t mean they were ever quite so close. From Theo’s observations, Loki seemed like he avoided physical contact whenever possible, recoiling from Thor’s touch and carefully distancing himself when anyone else drew near. Really, Theo couldn’t remember ever having made any physical contact with him that wasn’t an accidental brush of the hands when they handed items to each other. 

Despite feeling a bit thrown off by the touch, she wasn’t uncomfortable… If anything, it was actually kind of nice. 

Not that she was going to say anything, because that would absolutely make it weird. 

The effortless, lighthearted conversation that started on the rooftop continued the moment they sat down, even as everyone made quick work of the first round of drinks and the pizza, continuing to the extent that it wasn’t long before they ordered another round of drinks. 

After the waitress delivered the second round of drinks, Wanda swallowed the bite of pizza she had been chewing, then spoke up. 

“Thank you.” Wanda paused, considering her words. “For coming out tonight, that is. This has been fun.” She beamed at Theo. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor. The pigeon was well played.”

Theo blushed, biting back a smile. “Thanks for letting me in on the fun… though I have to say, I think Loki took the trophy home for best prank of the night.”

This time Loki didn’t try to deny it, grinning with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “It is important to remind my brother to stay humble… ‘Tis best to not allow his ego to overtake him. Do you agree?”

Theo let out a laugh, just barely tinged with melancholy as she thought about her sister. “That is part of a sibling’s job description, isn’t it?”

“Am I remembering correctly that you have a sister?” Vision asked Theo. “I recall mention of a sibling in your file, though you’ve not spoken much on the matter.”

Theo flinched, though the motion was barely perceptible. Loki’s eyes flickered over at her - he must have still noticed. 

“I do… but she’s presumed dead, like my parents. We got separated when we ended up in the other realm” Theo shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage, but the way the expressions in the group softened told her that they picked up on her discomfort around the topic. “My Mémère – err, my Grandma – raised me after that, and she raised my younger cousin, Max; he’s practically my younger brother.”

“There’s no reason to be nervous; family is a complicated subject for pretty much everyone on the team.” Wanda assured her.

Theo flashed a thin, yet grateful smile. “Yeah, I gathered that was practically a prerequisite for joining the Avengers.”

Loki snorted at her comment.

Wanda took the opportunity to change the topic, launching into the recap of the last band that she saw in this particular place. Apparently this was one of her favorite spots to go when she wanted to blend in and have some fun, especially since the poor lighting made it hard to be recognized. 

As Wanda spoke, Theo noticed a young couple making out next to a jukebox and couldn’t help but smile at the sight – they may have assumed that the poor lighting obscured them from view, but their affection was sweet. Another wave of nostalgia from her days in Durham washed over Theo.

It occurred to her that everyone in the booth had lived vastly different lives from her own: a literal princess sat next to a kid who grew up in Queens; an orphan sat next to an android, who sat across from a frost giant/literal god, and on Theo’s opposite side was someone who trained to be a spy since before she could walk. However, Theo didn’t feel like a fish out of water. On the contrary, she actually felt like she belonged there, sitting in this cramped booth with six other people who knew what it was like to be different. And the best part was, she didn’t even have to hide what made her unique.

Her heart warmed at the thought.

By the time they finally left the pizza place, it was nearing three in the morning – the sun would rise in a few hours, however Theo was still wide awake. Wanda must have sensed that Theo was still ready for an adventure because she paused outside, looking in the direction opposite the tower.

“So where are we going now?” Theo inquired, looking between the others. 

“Given you have a high alcohol tolerance, I think we should do some bar hopping,” Wanda offered, “This is New York, after all, the city that never sleeps. We might as well make it a proper night out!”

“The princess is out of her tower and there are some fine establishments nearby.” Loki added, a smug expression curling over his lips as he crossed his arms. Shuri cracked up, entirely aware that Loki was referring to Theo and not to her.

“I don’t know why you’re calling me a princess when we have a literal princess with us.” Theo offered a playful scoff in response to his joke, pointing at Shuri. 

“The literal princess had a great time, but she’s gotta go back to Oakland tomorrow.” Shuri smirked and took a bow. “So I’ve gotta call it a night.”

“Yeah, I have a biology exam I need to study for tomorrow, so I should get some sleep.” Peter agreed.

“I head out for a mission bright and early,” Yelena sighed, “So I should probably go too.”

“They may be ditching us, but I’m down to go check out the bars,” Theo offered. “But I hope you don’t make the same mistake Bucky did - that might not go as well, since you aren’t a super soldier.”

Wanda laughed freely, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh no, I’m not about to try and match you drink for drink. Consider this our way of giving you a tour of the neighborhood!”

Vision, of course, was also fine with bar hopping; as long as Wanda was there it seemed like he would be happy. 

After bidding goodnight to Shuri, Peter, and Yelena, the remaining four Avengers departed for the first bar. The cover of night provided protection from the stares that Theo expected to get walking down the street, though it was likely helped by the decrease in people out and about at the odd hour. 

The quartet moved between local bars seamlessly. The sight of the Avengers didn’t draw the looks Theo would have expected most celebrities to draw - the other three, apparently, were regulars. They chatted with other customers and joked around with the bartenders, always making a point to casually slip an introduction to Theo in the mix without making it awkward. More often than not, the other customers would buy a round of drinks for the group as a way of welcoming Theo to the team, and before Theo could respond either Loki or Wanda would accept on her behalf.

If Theo didn’t know better, Loki and Wanda were on a mission to see just how much alcohol it took to get Theo drunk; frankly, as long as Theo wasn’t the one footing the bill, she didn’t mind the opportunity to loosen up a bit.

As the sun crept over the horizon, Theo felt the warm buzz that came with mild inebriation, having consumed enough alcohol to finally overcome her obnoxious tolerance. 

Loki had a slight flush to his cheeks and a hint of glassiness in his eyes – there was no way that he could become intoxicated from what a human would drink alone, but between the Asgardian ale he consumed earlier and the other drinks, he seemed more relaxed than usual. Up until that point, Theo noticed that even when relaxed, Loki always had this air of being immensely composed, but that night it seemed like he let some of that properness fall away and let his guard drop ever-so-slightly.

In contrast, Wanda was comfortably drunk, allowing herself to hiccup and giggle freely while slurring some of her words. Not messy drunk by any means, thanks to Loki and Vision switching out some of her drinks for Shirley Temples when Wanda wasn’t looking (given how easily they managed the feat, Theo guessed it wasn’t the first time they had swapped her drinks so she didn’t get sick). 

Vision was the only one who was sober, but that had to be a normal occurrence… Not shockingly, it was impossible for an artificial intelligence system to process alcohol. Theo found it odd to watch Vision eat and drink like a normal person, since he didn’t actually digest food and that he didn’t even need to eat to function. The sight was even more jarring when he camouflaged himself to appear like a person and not an android, which he did anytime he ventured into public. 

Still, it wasn’t the weirdest thing Theo had ever seen…

With the sun peeking over the horizon, bringing with it the impending arrival of the morning, the group agreed it was time to return to the tower. While there was nothing on their agenda for the day that they had to prepare for, by that time everyone had been awake long enough that they were more than ready for bed. Vision and Wanda led the way, Vision wrapping his arm around Wanda to help her stay steady as she giggled and cooed endlessly at him, utterly lovestruck each time she looked at her partner. 

Behind them, Loki and Theo strolled beside each other in comfortable silence. As they moved, Theo discreetly observed Loki. His normally upright, regal posture had softened. His eyes gazed out into the distance, though it didn’t seem like they had a fixed point of interest. He kept his hands in his pockets, and his expression reserved - just the slightest hint of knitted brows adorned his expression.

The man beside her was different from the Loki that Theo first met, or the Loki she saw earlier in the evening – the sharp, charismatic, and sarcastic prince was replaced by a much quieter, introspective man. Even with the faint warmth of the alcohol in Theo’s system, she could sense storms swirling in his mind that were locked away from public view. She couldn’t help but wonder how often he allowed that side of him to show.

When they arrived at the tower and made their way up to the residential floors, Theo couldn’t help but notice the way that Loki held the elevator door for her, and how he placed his hand on the small of her back as she passed by. It must have been the way that Loki was raised that made him do those things - as a prince, he must have been taught these types of gestures as a part of proper etiquette - but the feeling of his touch lingered long after his hand left her back.

No one else was around, which meant that it was either too early for the others to be up, or those who were already awake were off doing something else. Those moments of stillness were rare in the tower, and after a long but fun night out, Theo was grateful for the peace and quiet. Up ahead, Wanda giggled and squealed as Vision patiently coaxed her towards their suite. It didn’t take long for them to disappear behind the door, leaving Loki and Theo to themselves. The pair’s comfortable silence continued as they made their way down the hall, pausing outside the door to Theo’s suite.

“This was a lot of fun,” Theo commented to Loki, a shy smile on her lips as she took hold of the door handle, but refrained from opening the door.

“Indeed,” he nodded, sticking his hands back in his pockets and shifting his weight back onto his heels as he gave her a nervous smile. “I’m glad you’ve come out of your shell a bit more – it is nice to spend time with you.” 

They both stood there, biting back smiles as they looked into each other’s eyes. In the peace of the tower and the sun rising, there was almost a special sort of peace that fell between them - a moment frozen in time.

Eventually though, that moment had to end.

Theo cleared her throat, a rising heat now present on her cheeks. “Well, I should probably…” Theo trailed off, gesturing that she was going to head inside. “Uh, good night Loki.”

“Right,” Loki blushed, looking away as he dipped his head. “Good night Theo.” 

Theo found herself reflecting on the night as she got ready for bed. Yes, Loki, the little bastard was right - the Avengers, for all their initial assumptions and hesitations, genuinely did want to be her friend.

And despite every reason why Theo shouldn’t want to, at the end of the day… She wanted to be their friend too. 

I let go (I let go) This is something spiritual (something spiritual) A vibrant soul (a vibrant soul) Give me life, give me love Got me hooked on a higher dose No sorrow (baby this is chemical) Hit just like an antidote (can’t come down, down) Adios (give me, yeah give me) Give me life, give me love  Leveled up on a higher dose

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki x oc #loki x ofc #when everything's made to be broken #wemtbb #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #slow burn #fluff #friends to lovers #marvel #mcu #brodinsons #wanda maximoff #thor #mcu thor

[ghostherlig]

gothic western au drabble

i entirely blame @shinshoyu for this (i saw the tags on your reblog, lmk if you want me to untag you <3)- you've infected my brain with this so now it's coming out!! please enjoy johnny with a southern accent torturing kenshi <333

Kenshi didn't know what was happening anymore-

At first, he had let Johnny tag along under the pretense that the actor would probably be tired and exhausted after the first week and just give up and go home.

But Johnny had stayed after the first week.

And the second....

And the third.

In fact, a month in and Johnny was still here, here currently being Madam Bo's Saloon.

Kenshi was nursing a cup of whiskey-tea, a Madam Bo special that had just started to get around town.

But, Johnny had been adamant about sticking around after seeing some of the action that Kenshi had to deal with on the weekly, sometimes daily.

Despite how capable Kenshi had proven himself to be, six shooter or not, Johnny almost seemed possessed by some outside force to keep Kenshi safe.

It was... weird.

"You alright, darlin'?" Johnny's smooth voice came from his left, and Kenshi turned to face him, swirling the tea in his glass.

"Peachy, Cage. Just thinking." Kenshi answered, tipping his head forward so his black pinched-front hat covered his face, hopefully concealing the flush that took over his cheekbones.

"Well, that's never a good sign," Johnny's teasing drawl hit Kenshi's ears, the slight concern there making Kenshi's heart stutter, "What's got you twisted up, babydoll?"

Kenshi didn't think he could survive the night like this.

"Just... thought you'd be gone by now. I'm content with you here, believe me, but... you didn't seem the type for so much action." Kenshi replied, and Johnny made a few faces ranging from surprise to 'really?' to understanding.

"I suppose so, though I guess I'm a little concerned about your thought process." Johnny admitted, and Kenshi raised a brow, looking up so the light could hit his face.

"What about it?" He poked, taking another sip of his tea.

"Do you think I'm travelling with you just for the adventure?" Johnny asked, and Kenshi almost spit out his tea, sputtering for a moment, Johnny's large hands patting his back to help him breathe again.

"Sorry-" Kenshi coughed, Johnny shaking his head.

"Focus on breathin', sugar, take your time," He drawled, a chuckle caught in his words.

Kenshi really didn't think he'd survive the night like this.

"I'm fine, Johnny," Kenshi sighed, the actor removing his hand from Kenshi's back and leaning back in his barstool.

He was waiting for Kenshi to answer him.

"I did. At first. That was the understanding we started this arrangement with," Kenshi started, and Johnny's brows furrowed, his mouth about to open, but Kenshi held his hand up.

"But, after recent... events," Kenshi stressed, thinking back to when Johnny had shown off his own shooting skills, the actor apparently also incredibly skilled with a rifle, "I think there are new reasons for you to stick around." Johnny's concerned brows turned up again, a smile taking over his face, his bare face beaming in the light of the bar.

"And those new reasons are?" He poked, leaning against the bar now, crowding into Kenshi's space.

Usually, the marksman would lean back, put some space between them... but Johnny's warmth was like a blanket, and Kenshi couldn't find it in himself to move.

"This might be presumptuous," Kenshi started, but Johnny just smiled a little wider.

"Try me, darlin'," He drawled, the deeper edge of his voice cutting into the pet name. Kenshi almost shivered.

"Me." The marksman answered, ducking his head again.

Johnny was apparently having none of it, his hand coming to tilt Kenshi's chin back up.

"No need to be so shy, sugar, you hit the nail on the head." Johnny smirked, and Kenshi didn't think he'd ever been looked at the way Johnny was looking at him now.

In the low light of the bar, eyes glowing like honey mead in the evening sun, emotions bare for all to see, his gaze softer than the early winter snow.

"Cut that out," Kenshi huffed, turning back to his drink, throwing it back and holding his hat, tilting it forward to hide his face again.

Johnny laughed, something boisterous and loud and oh so sweet.

"Sorry, babydoll," He smiled, nudging Kenshi with his elbow as he stood, "I'll save it for the next time we're alone." He winked, and Kenshi sighed as he walked away, his face ablaze after Johnny's relentless teasing.

Yeah. He wouldn't survive tonight.

#drabbles by greg #johnshi #johnny cage #kenshi takahashi #gothic western au #yall dont understand how much i love them #it's unreal #my writing

[babygirldabi]

Runaway Part 3

CW: This part is NOT smut, sorry to all my lovely horndogs, but I needed to throw some plot in there at some point, murder, guns, weapons in general, some sexual harrassment, a little teeny tiny bit of fluff, I think that's it. Fair warning I didn't do a ton of editing bc this took a lot of brain space THAT I DO NOT HAVE THIS WEEK, Definitely working on a Part 4 and probably 5 because I know where I wanna go with this now. As always, thanks for reading.

Remember that I will tag you if you want to be notified about new chapters!

Tags: @kierewrites (because you left SUCH A NICE COMMENT LAST TIME), @blahblahblahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Part 3

As you wake up, Dabi sits on the edge of the bed and goes over the plan with you.

It’s a simple transport; the Doctor needs the League to pick up some mysterious package and deliver it to his own personal Headquarters; something about strengthening the League’s Nomus. Dabi doesn’t share the details, and you don’t ask. The less you know the better. 

 “We have two vehicles, Spinner is gonna drive us, Toga, Twice and Compress will serve as the distraction in the other car, and you and I are going to handle the actual delivery.” He smiles as your eyes widen at this bit of information. 

“That’s- uh, kind of a really big test for a first mission, isn’t it?” You stutter, feeling overwhelmed. Dabi watches you squirm and smiles wider. 

“You and I have strong Quirks. If it comes down to fighting, Shig wants the strongest ones around the actual package to protect it." He doesn't mention that he specifically asked Shig to let him work with you directly. "You’ll be fine.”

"Why are we doing this during the day?" You inquire. "Isn't nighttime easier?"

"During the day there's more traffic. It's easier to blend in, follow the daily commute," Dabi explains. "We're less likely to get noticed if we're just part of the crowd." You nod. It makes sense.

“Is Shigaraki coming?” You turn and rifle through the clothes that Toga has lent you, trying to find something nondescript, forgettable. 

“No. We don’t want him near this one in case something goes wrong.” He doesn’t sound concerned. “Wear the black jeans and the black tank top,” Dabi orders, rising from the bed to glance down at the stack with you. “Nothing flashy.”

“Of course,” you murmur, picking up the specific items and turning towards the bed to dress. 

“You’ll have a hat and a mask, too, to hide your face. We don’t want anyone recognizing the latest ex-Hero hanging out with the League.” Dabi turns towards the door. “meet me at the bar when you’re ready. I’m gonna go check in with the others.” He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer, just leaves.

You scowl as you dress. For all his attentions last night, Dabi is back to being cold. He’s also being helpful, you muse, but it’s not the same. Last night you were the remedy for his nightmares, the distraction that grounded him. Today, you’re just the new hire. You finish pulling on the clothes and check your reflection in the mirror. You look like any regular civilian; forgettable, vague. Exactly what I want to be. You scowl at your reflection, then turn on your heel and head towards the main room. 

 Dabi is leaning against the bar, head leaned close to Spinner’s as they trace the route on a large map and mutter together. Toga skips over to take your hand, beaming. “Happy first mission!” She crows, practically dancing with excitement. “How do you feel?”

You can’t help but smile at her as she swings your hands gently together. “I'm fine. A little nervous,” you admit, and in your peripheral you see Dabi’s blue eyes flash up to your face before settling down to the map again. 

 “Don’t be nervous, this is routine,” Twice advises, before his left eye starts promptly twitching. “We’re so screwed!”

“Ignore him. He’s jumpy before missions," Toga giggles, then releases your hand to go stand by Dabi’s shoulder. “Compress is getting the car. We should be ready in a couple minutes.”

“Alright. Rookie’s with me and Spinner. Toga, you, Twice and Compress will be driving the distraction vehicle. Stay close to us and don’t fall behind until it's time to split off. Everybody look fuckin’ sharp.” 

 Thirty seconds later, the sound of an engine running approaches headquarters. A faint beeping prompts you and the rest of the group out the door, single file. 

 Just outside, in the late morning sun, a shiny red sports car twinkles, idling by the sidewalk. Compress waves from the driver's seat. Twice nods to you and Dabi and climbs into the car. Toga hangs back for a quick second to squeeze your hand. “You’re gonna be fine,” she whispers, then skips towards the car. As her door swings shut, you swallow hard and turn to look up at Dabi, who’s scanning the streets coolly. 

“Where did Spinner go-?” You start to ask, just as a big, gray, nondescript van pulls up, goes around the sports car, and parallel parks just in front of it. 

“There’s our ride,” Dabi responds vaguely, then jerks his head in the direction of the van. “C’mon.” He walks briskly, not waiting for you to keep up. You scurry after him. Suddenly, he stops and turns, causing you to almost bump into his back. “Oh-here.” He digs into the large pocket of his coat and withdraws a plain black facemask and a blue baseball cap. “Put these on.”

You obey swiftly, tucking your long hair behind your ears and arranging the rest of your disguise carefully. When you’re done, you look back up at him. 

“Good?” You ask. 

“Good.” There’s something strange in Dabi’s voice, some feeling you can’t quite decipher, before he breaks away and turns back to the van. “Hurry up. We ain’t got all day, doll.”

You roll your eyes but follow him, letting him open up the back door to the van and climbing in, settling down in the spacious second row. Dabi slams the door behind you and goes around, jumping into the passenger seat. 

Spinner is waiting, eyes focused, his claws clenched on the steering wheel. 

“Good to go, Lizard,” Dabi drawls, throwing his feet up on the dash. “Let’s get this over with.”

 You watch the route carefully as Spinner drives, several blocks up, two rights, one left, and across a bridge to the other side of the city. The drive doesn’t talk long, maybe twenty minutes, half an hour, before you pull up to the gates of an industrial park. The guard at the gate waits for Spinner to roll down his window, looking bored. 

“What’s your business here?” He demands, but even his voice is listless, flat. 

“We’re here to make a delivery to the Doctor,” Spinner responds sharply. “You gonna let us in, or what?”

The guard’s eyes widen and he seems to jump to life. “Oh yes-yes, sir!” His hand slaps a button, causing the gates to creak open. “Apologies. You know where to go-?”

“Yeah, we got it,” Spinner bites, and the van drives through the gates seamlessly. 

Dabi has been staring out the windshield the whole time, lost in thought, but as Spinner navigates the van through the industrial park, he turns to look at you. “How ya feelin’, Rookie?” His smirk is wide. 

Your chin jerks up in defiance. “I’m fine,” you snap back, causing his smile to spread wider. “Good girl,” he mouths at you, and your cheeks heat up as he turns to face forward again.

Cocky bastard. 

The van stops in front of a huge, gray warehouse. Spinner throws the van in park and jumps out, Dabi following suit without a word. You scramble across the seat to jump out the side door and catch up with them. You glance over your shoulder, surprised to see that the sports car carrying the others is nowhere to be seen. “Where’s everyone else?” You wonder out loud. 

Dabi strolls on, not bothering to turn around as he answers you. “They’re doing what they’re supposed to do; being a distraction.”

Spinner coughs a laugh and you decide you’d rather not know what the other half of the team is doing right now. 

 A man is waiting on the side of the warehouse, a baggy black hoodie covering most of his features. He shuffles forward, hands in pockets as your small trio approaches him. 

“You with the League?” he mutters, keeping his face down except to chance an occasional glance up. 

“Yeah. Sorry, we didn’t bring our business cards,” Dabi bites out, causing the man to shuffle his feet. “Is the package ready or not? We don’t exactly have time to chit chat.”

“Yes sir. Here.” The man pulls a flat package out of his pocket- no bigger than a large jewelry box, and hands it off to Dabi. “Does the Doctor need anything else from us?”

“We’ll be in touch.” Dabi flashes a vaguely threatening smile before turning on his heel and leading you back to the van. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man glance curiously up at you before returning his gaze to the pavement. 

 You do your best to walk coolly back to the van after Spinner and Dabi, fully aware that your heart is thumping so loudly in your chest that you’re concerned the others might hear it. For a second, you have to take a step back and take a look at your current life; you are committing crime with the League of Villains. This is not where you thought you’d end up. Oddly enough, you’re more comfortable with this crowd than you ever were as a Hero, even on patrols. The thought sticks with you as your climb back into the van and settle into the same seat as before. Dabi shuts his door and glances back at you. 

“See, not bad. Halfway done.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, buckling and leaning back in your seat. 

“You did good keeping your cool,” Spinner remarks, as the van chugs back to life and he shifts into drive. “Not bad for an ex-Hero.”

You blink in surprise; this might be the first time Spinner’s actually spoken to you. “Oh. Thanks.”

 Spinner chooses to ignore this and go back to silence, which is fine. Dabi gives you one last look before turning forward himself. In the silence, you gaze out the window and watch as you depart the industrial back and get back on the road. 

The Doctor’s headquarters are a bit of a longer drive; about an hour outside of the city. You watch as the urban settings change into suburban ones; sidewalks and payphones changing to trees and small family homes, before the van moves further into the outskirts of suburbia and heads up a small mountain road. After a couple bumpy miles, you pull up to a plain, nondescript house; a very heavily guarded one. Villains of all shapes and sizes stand at every inch of the perimeter; some smoking, some talking amongst themselves, some playing cards. All stand to attention as the van pulls up, shuffling their weapons or flexing their muscles intimidatingly. One of them, heavily muscled and holding a weapon- is that a fucking machine gun?- approaches the van first, right at the top of the drive. He holds his hand out, motioning for Spinner to pull to a stop, and then approaches the window. 

“Name and business,” he says brusquely, the minute the window is down. Dabi leans across Spinner to answer just as brusquely. “We’re with the League, here to make a delivery to the doctor, on Shigaraki’s orders.”

The villain steps back to mutter something into the earpiece he’s wearing. He waits a second, listening, then nods. “Proceed. Park to the left.” 

Spinner drives the van the remainder of the way up the drive, parking in the designated spot to the left of the house. You follow Dabi and Spinner out of the vehicle silently, ignoring the chills that go through you as you glance around and see that every Villain in the yard is watching your group with narrowed eyes and scowls. One of them steps forward, indicating that he’s an escort. “You can follow me.”

Dabi leads the group behind the escort, glancing back at you. You fall into step behind Spinner, keeping your eyes straight forward as you walk. 

As it turns out, the house is set up like a business; you walk through the front door to the waiting room, where a receptionist sits behind a glass cubicle- probably bullet proof, you muse, as the door swings shut behind you. The escort stands off to the side as Dabi approaches the glass. The receptionist looks up, smiling brightly after her eyes travel up and down Dabi’s body. “Can I help you?” She chirps, annoyingly perky. 

Dabi doesn’t smile back. “Here to see the Doctor. I’ve got a delivery.”

The receptionist nods, tapping rapidly on her keyboard and skimming the computer screen. “Ah, there you are- you’re with the League?”

“Yep.”

“Alright. Just one minute.” The receptionist picks up the phone, punching a few buttons, then waits as the other end presumably rings. You watch her eyes light up as whoever’s on the other end answers. “Doctor, the League is here with something for you. Shall I bring it back?”

She listens again, then nods. “Understood, sir.” Hanging up, she looks back up at Dabi. “The Doctor would like to see you directly. If you’ll just follow me-” She stands up to scurry around and open a locked door beside the window. 

You follow Dabi and Spinner through the door, but at the last second, the receptionist grabs your wrist, holding you back. Instinctively, you go to jerk away, but her hold only tightens. Confused, you glance at her. 

Her smile is candy-sweet, the opposite of the vice-like grip she has on your wrist. “Sorry, dear. The Doctor asked for Dabi and Spinner specifically. You’ll have to wait out here.”

Panicking, you look at Dabi, who has stopped beside Spinner and is watching this all go down. You watch as he considers all of this, then looks at you. “Stay here. We’ll be right back.”

 You swallow hard, dread creeping up your throat at the thought of sitting in this waiting room, alone with strangers- Villains you don’t know- without the people you’re comfortable with. You nod anyway, wanting to show Dabi that you can follow orders, and allow the receptionist to tug you back into the waiting room. 

She smiles again, a fake sweet smile. “You can sit down, dear. I’m sure it won’t be long.” With that, she slams the door in your face.

Rejected, you turn and head back into the corner of the office with the chairs, sinking into one and turning your gaze to your lap. Your legs are pressed tightly together, betraying your attempt to hide your anxiety, and your fists are balled against your knees, the knuckles turning white. You flex your hands, forcing them to smooth out, and cross your legs, glancing around furtively. The escort is still standing by the door, hands wrapped around his weapon, observing you watchfully. The receptionist has returned to her work, typing rapidly away at her keyboard, a self-satisfied smirk resting at corners of her mouth. In front of you is a low table with stacks of magazines on it. 

What is this, a Doctor’s office? You think, before realizing that, technically, it is. With a sigh you reach forward, grabbing the first magazine you reach and opening it in your lap, just to have something to do. You pay no attention to the articles or pictures as you flip through, your eyes glazed over as your anxiety gets worse with each passing second your accomplices aren’t back.

What the hell could they possibly be doing back there? What is taking so long? 

Oh, god. What if something went wrong?

You get stuck on this horrifying thought, trying your best to keep a casual look on your face as your mind goes a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how to escape if you get stuck here. A loud voice makes you jump.

“And who do we have here?” Another large man, one that you didn’t notice coming inside because your brain was having an anxiety spiral, plops down in the chair next to you, eyeing you like a meal. 

“I-I’m with the League,” you say shortly, avoiding eye contact as you rifle busily through the magazine in your lap. 

“Never seen a League Member who wasn’t welcome back to see the Doctor.” The man lets out a loud, booming laugh. You barely manage to keep from jumping out of your skin. “You new or somethin’?”

“Yeah. A new recruit.” 

“Interesting. A new recruit that we haven’t heard of yet. Usually Shigaraki tells the Doctor everything, as soon as it happens.” He scratches his scruff lazily. “Why are you wearin’ all that? Everybody out there thinks you’re real cute, only we can’t see your face.” Unbelievably, his hand reaches out as if to pull your mask down. You recoil sharply, slapping his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me!” Your voice comes out strong, biting. The man looks surprised, and then perturbed. Desperately, you glance around the room for backup; the secretary is ignoring the situation, probably used to this Villain harassing guests, while the escort stands by the door, watching in amusement. You're not gonna find any help here, you realize.

“Apparently you don’t know the rules around here, sweetheart. When you’re on our property, we’re in charge.” His voice is loud, threatening. “Take this shit off.”

A small struggle ensues; you go to slap the man's hand again and he seizes your wrist in a bruising hold, lifting you out of your chair. You struggle to get free, spitting curses and insults at him, while he attempts to hold you with one hand and pull your mask down with the other, crooning, "c'mon, sweetheart, don't be like that- just a peek- Ouch! You little fuckin' bitch-" as you punch him in the ear as hard as you could with your free hand. He drops you almost immediately and you fall to the floor with an oof, glaring up at him as he rubs his ear in annoyance and leans down to seize you again. "You little fucking cunt-"

“If you touch our rookie one more time, I’m gonna burn you to fucking bits.” The relief that runs through you at the sound of Dabi’s voice is embarrassing. You whip around from your place on the floor to see him and Spinner standing in front of you. Dabi’s eyes gleam wickedly. 

The Villian scoffs, standing up to flex his muscles at Dabi. He’s at least six inches taller and smirks down at him threateningly. 

“You wanna take me on, you fuckin’ punk? You tryin’ to threaten me?”

“Oh, it’s not a threat,” Dabi smiles. “It’s a promise. You don’t fucking touch her.” He turns to you. “We’re done here. Let’s go.” 

Scrambling up from the floor in relief, you try not to make your fear too obvious as you hurry around the edge of the wooden table and go right to Dabi’s side. He takes your arm, leading you outside in front of the escort, Spinner following silently behind you. 

Dabi all but pulls you to the van, throwing the door open. “Get in and stay in. Lock the door,” he says hurriedly, under his breath, and you don’t understand until after he slams the door shut and turns to face the Villain who has followed you outside, his weapon cocked and pointing at Dabi as he storms towards him. Horrified, you slam your hand down on the lock button. You can’t hear what he’s yelling at Dabi, but whatever it is gets cut short as Dabi lifts a palm and blasts him with a nonstop wave of blue fire. You jump in your seat and shriek as you watch the Villain try to run, screaming all the while, before collapsing to the ground, blue flames still licking at his skin. The other Villains around the yard watch in fury and horror before trying to rush forward. Spinner reaches Dabi’s side, both of them tensed to fight. 

“Hold on, hold on,” you hear from around the building, before an old, short man comes around the corner, hands in the air. He takes in the scene; his charred and smoking former employee, his enraged guards, and Dabi and Spinner, tensed by the van. 

“Everything alright?” the old man asks cheerfully, as if everything is normal. “Sorry, Doc. It couldn’t be avoided,” Dabi answers him, still tensed. 

Oh, so this is the Doctor. 

The Doctor considers this before shrugging. “That one was giving me some trouble, anyway. Apologies for the hubbub, Dabi. On your way. Give Shigaraki my best.” 

“Will do,” Dabi answers casually now, dropping his arms and strolling around the side of the van as Spinner quickly gets into the driver’s seat. As the door opens, you hear the Doctor addressing the other guards in the yard. “Stand down. Back to work, unless you want to join your friend here.”

Neither Dabi or Spinner even look at you until the van is safely down the driveway and speeding back along the main road. You’re too scared to speak, still shaking and trying to pretend that you’re not. You think you might be in shock- even as a Hero, witnessing murders was a rare and unfortunate thing. It makes you all too aware of the situation you’re in, how badly it can turn, what could happen to you if you disobey the League. 

It’s fucking terrifying. 

About a mile down the road, Dabi finally turns to look at you. “Are you okay?” He asks, in the same gentle voice he usually saves for Toga. Spinner picks up on this, glancing at him, wide-eyed, before turning back to the road. Dabi’s eyes don’t leave yours as you scramble for an answer. 

“Not really,” You finally croak, squeezing your hands together. Dabi reaches back and tucks a loose hair behind your ear. 

“I’m sorry it happened like that.” That’s all he says, giving you one last sober look before turning back to the front seat. 

“Thank you,” You finally say. Dabi nods, still facing forward. Spinner’s eyes dart from Dabi to you in the rearview mirror, but he stays silent, focusing on the drive. Following their lead, you turn back to the window, staring blankly at the scenery for the next hour before the streets become familiar again. 

When the van pulls up the headquarters, you’re surprised to see that the sports car is also already back. As you open the front door, Toga rushes out and hugs you. “Welcome back! How did it go?” 

“Uh-” you glance at Dabi behind you, Spinner just over his shoulder. “It was-”

“It was fine. Y/n did good.” Dabi doesn’t bother taking his coat or boots off, heading directly up the stairs. “I need to go check in with Shig. Then we’ll figure dinner out.” He glances at you. “Drink some water,” he instructs, before clomping up the stairs to Shig’s room. 

You stare after him, then notice that Toga is staring at you. 

“He killed someone in front of you. Right?” 

You gape at her, allowing her to take your hand and lead you to the couch. “How did you know?” 

“Because the first time he did it in front of me, I went into shock and he made me drink water for like, twenty minutes after I came out of it.” She smiles, a little sadly. “It’s scary.”

“Yeah,” is all you can think to say. Toga thinks for a minute and then jumps up, shaking her head. “Anyway, I’ll get you some water and then you can tell me everything about your first mission!”

 You spend the next forty minutes recounting everything to Toga, who’s curled up next to you on the couch, as you slowly sip your water. Eventually you feel more grounded, more present, between the water and the warmth of the room, the comfort of the couch. Toga listens, wide-eyed, beaming and nodding as you finish explaining the day's events. “Except for the murder part, it sounds like a really good first mission,” she says bluntly, and to your surprise, a giggle escapes your mouth. She looks at you in surprise as you begin to laugh harder. 

“What?” 

“‘Except for the murder part.’” You’re wheezing now, tilting off the couch at the surreality of the day. Toga can’t help but join in, the two of you collapsing on each other in a fit of hysterical giggles. 

That’s how Dabi finds you as he descends the stairs; you and Toga clinging to each other and laughing so hard that you both have tears rolling down your faces. Something in his chest swells. He’s never heard you laugh before, he realizes. Your laugh is sweet and bubbly, and he wants to hear more of it, but there’s business to be done. 

“Y/n.” You glance up, brushing the tears from your cheeks as you look at him. “Shig wants to see you upstairs.”

Oh, Jesus. You glance at Toga, who looks equally nervous and excited, and nudges you off the couch. You stand and join Dabi at the stairs, following him up. He leads you down a short hallway, knocking on one of the bedroom doors. “Shig. I’ve got y/n.”

“Come in,” Shig calls from behind the door. You tense, not knowing what to expect, but when the door swings open, Shig is seated in a beanbag chair, focusing on a video game. 

You internally breathe a sigh of relief. Okay, so maybe you’re not about to get whacked. 

“Shig. Focus.” Dabi sounds exasperated. Shigaraki hits the pause button before standing and turning to face you. 

“Dabi says you did well on the mission.”

You swallow hard. “I tried.”

“It was your first one. It didn’t need to be perfect. I’m interested in your story, y/n. From Hero to Villain in three days.” His eyes narrow at you, his head tilting slightly. “You really want to do this?”

You take a deep breath, gazing at the floor as you try to gather your thoughts neatly. “Being a Hero didn’t do anything for me. It’s only now that I’ve started working with you all that i realize how fucked up the Hero Commision is. I was a child. I was being trained to be a soldier. THey don’t care about your well-being. They don’t care about your health. They just want your Quirk power. That’s not a society I want for anyone, anymore. So, if working with the League can help shake the system a little bit, I’m here to help.” You chance a look up at him. “Let me help.” It comes out as a plea, soft and sincere. Shigaraki stares at you for a few long seconds, and then nods. 

“Welcome to the League, y/n.”

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #touya x you #dabi x you #mha smut #mha fanfiction

[ridestomars]

… but like a fairy reader with any of them would be funny. In my opinion Nancy would find it so cool but she wouldn’t be weird about it. Robin would ramble on and on about it and just go into like a lesbian panic if you showed her your wings. Steve would be funny about it and a little uneducated and compare you to like Tinkerbell. Eddie would like fawn over your wings and just want to touch them and call them pretty because he is actually so sweet and soft. … just my thoughts hehe 🤣😂👀😁🧚

this is absolutely perfect.

i feel like nancy would be the only one who's actually cool about the whole thing. like, she'd probably find it crazy at first (but would never show that to you, of course), so it would take a bit of getting used to but even then, she'd always treat you normally because you're her friend, after all. i also feel like she'd be the best to talk about human traditions or "technicalities" (if that makes sense), since she's the only one who actually has the patience to sit down with you to talk about those "boring" subjects like history. also, i definitely see her going shopping with fairy! and would spend the whole time encouraging you to try all kinds of styles, and then she'd teach you how to style your hair the way you like it and to do your makeup!

robin wants to know every little detail of your life, and i'm not even kidding. like, her idea of a perfect day with you is: you both hanging out in a quiet place and asking you about everything fairy-related (that she can think of). i feel like she would love to do little arts and crafts with you, like making rings out of twigs or nice colorful paintings. i picture robin as a cinephile, so i definitely see her taking you to the movies almost daily. or renting some cool movies for you to watch together on your sleepovers – that would vary a lot, like, she would go from a 40s hitchcock movie to revenge of the nerds in a second. and she'd also explain to you everything she knows about movies, and would even get her mom's old super 8 camera to record videos of you two together.

and poor stevie wouldn't have a clue of what's going on and would just roll with the punches, really. but the face he makes when you show him your wings for the first time was priceless; the type of memory that when it comes to mind just makes you giggle by yourself. but he would love to spend time with you, always asking the most senseless questions – that would often end up with nancy smacking him on the arm. but i feel like he would be your hawkins guide, showing you around town like a pro. it's like he's a walking map, almost, because he knows everything and everyone, even the most hidden parts of town... and he makes sure to show you everything.

eddie would be a bit intimidating at first, but he would warm up to you really quickly. and once you become friends, he's willing to show you everything music-related that you've been missing. because not only you would marathon mtv programs like crazy, but he would gift you records almost every week. if we're talking about my eddie au, then i just know that this boy would be so jealous of your friendship with the other three. like, he's so immature about it but it's just so cute :( because he says shit to you like "this is so unfair! i met you first! you should be spending time with me!", with those puppy dog eyes that just make you melt.

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED! main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve, nancy and eddie.

#LIVING FOR FAIRY!READER #not proofread #liv answers anon #nancy wheeler x reader #robin buckley x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #fairy!reader #nancy wheeler x fairy!reader #robin buckley x fairy!reader #steve harrington x fairy!reader #eddie munson x fairy!reader #nancy x fairy!reader #robin x fairy!reader #steve x fairy!reader #eddie x fairy!reader #liv talks about nancy #liv talks about robin #liv talks about eddie #liv talks about stevie

[silverskull]

I'll Always Be

(long notes ahead - it's the last day of Chenford Week!)

Chenford Week 2023

Day 7: Free Day

Inspired by a quote and a song & Chenford + that UC life.

This was originally going to be my Day 6 fic, but I really liked how it turned out, and it had the emotional punch I wanted to end my Chenford Week contribution with, so I did a swaperoo.

The song that inspired me was Lover Please Stay - Nothing But Thieves and the quote below is from Steve Goodier:

As much as I enjoy romance, it’s commitment that I need the most. I need to know a love I can depend on, a love that says, “I will be with you through it all. I love you. And I will love you even when you may not be all that lovable, for sometimes I'm not very lovable either. You can count on me - always." - Steve Goodier

I would highly recommend you listen to Consolations of Philosophy - Max Richter (Black Mirror, Nosedive) while you read this. It's got the painful but hopeful undercurrent I felt while writing this.

And lastly, Thank You for Chenford Week, to the organisers, the creators and participants, and most of all - you - the people who read and reblog and leave comments and generally keep the encouragement train chugging along. You have no idea how much your kindness and enthusiasm means to me when I see it. My thanks, as always, to Amanda, for being a listening ear and an eager cheerleader whenever I needed it. 💖

Full fic below the cut (3,800) or here on AO3.

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The Teska case was just the beginning.

Of course it was. He knew it would be.

Lucy was so good, that soon other stations started requesting her services.

It started with Noah Foster, something small, up in Victorville. Tim had no reason to be there, and besides, she’d be going under with Noah. Tim trusted Noah.

Or, at least, Tim trusted Lucy.

So he waited in Mid-Wilshire, biding his time with drug seizures and cartel deconstruction, celebrating the wins by sharing his steak with Kojo and, at the weekends, taking Tamara out for whatever weird popup restaurant took her fancy.

Noah’s handler emailed him daily. All fine, no updates. It wasn’t very informative, but he hung onto the first two words for dear life.

One day, the email was late, and he allowed an hour, then two to pass, and was pacing in the tiny path of his office, his thumb hovering over the call button, when the phone sprang to life in his hands. All fine, takedown has begun. Sry for delay.

She was home within the week, and though he’d been on the phone with her almost every hour since she’d dropped her cover, there was nothing like being able to hold her in his arms. She completed her debrief in Victorville so she could go straight home to him, and despite all the promises he’d made on the phone, he found all he wanted to do was squeeze her into him, meld their bodies together right there where they stood in the living room, until she was part of him and he’d never have to let her go again.

***

Three weeks with Noah paled in comparison to a month and a half under, somewhere out between Hollenbeck and Monterey Park.

It was too high-level for him to get away with being her handler again, and his only consolation was that this time, instead, it was Nyla. He could accost her for updates whenever he wanted (even though she’d literally set her phone to forward texts from Lucy’s UC number to his), and whenever there was movement, she’d call him over to observe.

He wasn’t going to say anything, but watching Lucy on the screen probably didn’t make it any easier. At least when she was in Victorville, he knew so little about what was going on, that his mind would spin from one crazy possibility to another with no coherent thought. This time, knowing what she was getting into, seeing footage from the hidden cameras of the squat houses and factories she was spending her days in, it sent his imagination into overdrive; picking one link from what he’d seen and tangling himself up in a chain of morbid scenarios.

He was staying in Lucy’s apartment this time - closer to the station, and with traces of her scent in every corner. Tamara came back from college for a week, and it was good for him. They watched movies and went for a hike - things they’d have done anyway if Lucy was there. She made Lucy’s sleepy tea for him and, somehow, it helped. The herb and camomile taste on his tongue, Lucy’s pillow under his nose, Tamara humming along to her earbuds out in the living room. 

He woke one night to a panicked call from Nyla, his legs engaging auto-pilot and dragging him down to his truck in his pyjamas before he had even unscrambled her words.

“There’s been a shoot-out! We’ve lost contact! Lucy’s hurt!”

They were gathered around the monitors on Nyla’s desk, nothing to do but wait for a signal from Hollenbeck Division that they were clear to move out. Harper replayed the footage for him: a night-vision camera in the corner of a meth lab, flashing between light and dark as gunfire sprayed throughout the room. Lucy flew into the frame, throwing her body over a young man crouched behind some pallets, and he could see her shirt rip when the bullet hit, billowing out from her and knocking the two of them over. Something hit the camera then, and it fell, giving one spinning whirl of frantic black and white spirals before cutting out altogether.

He didn’t want to leave, but Nyla suggested that he’d be more useful in his uniform than his pyjamas, and he sprinted to the locker room to change out. He was just tightening the belt on his pants when she burst in through the door, yelling at him that Hollenbeck had finally called for backup. He’d grabbed his duty belt and bodycam, requisitioning Officer Jan and his already-stocked shop, and finished dressing in the passenger’s seat as they sped down the I-10.

It took less than thirty minutes to get to the scene, but it felt like hours, his skin crawling and his muscles cramping with anxiety. Jan wisely stayed silent, his eyes on the road, following the line of shops ahead of them.

She was shot.

She was shot.

She. was. shot.

They’d been lucky so far, and it might have been naïve to imagine such luck would hold out forever, but he knew her better than his own hands, and she could talk her way out of any situation. Why did she run into this fray? Why did she risk her life for some random kid?

It didn’t matter that he didn’t know the boy. He knew the answer: She was Lucy. She was a good person, and she was in this job to help people.

The vehicles ahead of them pulled into a parking lot, and Tim was out almost before Jan had put the shop in park. Ambulances and cruisers littered the area, and he could see a short line of handcuffed suspects, bloody and dishevelled, waiting to be loaded off to lockup.

“Bradford!”

Nyla was running towards him, an unfamiliar man at her side - no, not unfamiliar; he was Lucy’s handler.

“She’s okay, Tim. She’s okay.”

They directed him to an ambulance, and he jogged over, yanking the door open before the EMTs could stop him, and there she was.

Sitting on the stretcher, a medic wrapping thick gauze around her upper arm, and before he could think, she was in his arms, her good hand stroking through his hair and down his back, whispering a steady stream of reassurances into his ear.

A flesh wound. A small chip in her humerus. Surgery to remove the bullet and bandage up the tear. A few weeks of physio and reintegration therapy (for her and him). Slow and steady return to normal work operations.

She needed more than twenty-four hours this time. So did he.

But they managed.

They pulled through.

***

She graduated to P3. Passed the Detective’s exam (her second attempt) a month later.

Moved out from Grey and over to Carradine, and suddenly she was practically her own boss. Picking and choosing from the cream of the caseloads, fending off offers from other departments and divisions. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Nyla stood beside him in the breakroom, watching through the window as Lucy gave a talk to a unit from West Valley in the briefing room. They had their own UCs in play, but when she’d declined their offer to enter the field, they jumped at the chance to hear her speak instead.

“That’s my girl,” Nyla said, folding her arms and smirking like a proud mother hen.

“That’s literally my girl,” Tim grouched, gripping his duty belt and stamping his foot petulantly.

There were multiple short-terms after that. A week here, two or three there. Nyla or Angela always took point, their trio as smooth as a well-oiled machine. They kept him looped in, set up small meet points where possible. Just about refrained from calling them ‘conjugal visits’ - to his face at least.

And they carried on.

***

He brought up the topic of kids first.

Something about grandchildren; linked it back to her joke from their early date nights. Tried to make it sound as unrehearsed as possible.

She smiled, curled closer into him, tickled her fingers under his jaw.

Saw right through his ruse.

“I can’t go undercover if I’m pregnant. I won’t. So… not yet, okay?”

He pulled her in close, pressing kisses into the crown of her head.

She was right there in his arms, and he was already missing her.

***

Her longest assignment wasn’t even planned.

It was another of her ‘two-to-three week’ stints, and (as always) he was willing to believe the lie.

He should have sounded the alarm.

Going into month four, she was no nearer to upending the operation, and she was contacting Nyla less and less often. They were clear on their objectives, and she’d unearthed the names of most of the main players, but as she wove herself in closer to the command structure, the more time they gave it, the better the opportunity for a takedown grew.

All the same, he could see that it made Angela uneasy.

Nyla was better at disguising it, but she’d chewed through every pen on her desk at that point, and Officer Francis in Stationery Supplies refused to give her any more.

He’d only met with Lucy three times - barely even once a month.

It would start with a hug, him trying to see through her eyes, into her soul, to check that she was still the same. She was usually more physical, latching herself onto him and pulling at his clothes until he gave in and let her have what she wanted.

It seemed like them, as they lay there afterwards. It was their skin, their sweat, their smell… But it felt like they were only playing a part. She was sweet and gentle, smiling up at him and brushing her fingers along his neck and collar bones. He was calm and steady, relaying innocuous news about the children they knew, or Kojo’s new buddies at the dog park. 

He wanted to stop her, wade in and beg her to drop out. Ask her to come back with him and leave this life behind. Run, run away, far away, before it was too late.

The only thing that stopped was her steady reassurance.

“I’ve got this, Tim. You know I do. You trained me.”

He laughed at that. He’d given her a real-life interpretation of the rule book, backed her up the first times she ever encountered basic situations.

This? This skillset she’d developed and become discreetly famous for?

This was all her.

She was more talented than anyone he’d ever known.

So he trusted her.

And he let her go at the end of each of their nights together.

***

The showdown came almost unexpectedly.

Lucy barely had time to forewarn Harper and Lopez, and suddenly he was on the response team coordinating with Patrol and SWAT and Metro. Even Garza and his people from the FBI dropped in, lured by the promise of a tri-state takedown.

One week after her warning, they descended on the warehouses. Armoured vehicles and helicopters, sirens and bullhorns and ambulances all converging in the same square mile.

He hadn’t seen her for over a month at that stage. Six months - plus - undercover. 

Nyla intervened to arrest her when he stalled. Lucy had emerged from the warehouse like a wraith, dirty, with her clothes torn and her shoes scuffed. There were bags under her eyes and she’d gotten thin - thin to the point of boniness. Her face was drawn, and there was no recognition in her eyes.

Harper packed her into a shop and drove them straight to St Stephens.

He’d stayed with Grey and Carradine, mentally reeling and allowing the other two men to issue the orders. Grey could see right through him, and Carradine knew enough to give him space. Gil had eventually returned from the warehouse and, on seeing Tim, offered to take command of the Metro unit. Grey had agreed with the idea, and shuffled Tim over to Nolan, ordering him to drive straight to the hospital.

Incredibly, Nolan was silent, offering only one small encouragement before he put the shop in drive.

“She’s still Lucy. She’s still our Lucy.”

It may have been as much for his own benefit as Tim’s, but Tim clung to it, repeating it over and over again, mantra-like, in his head as they neared the hospital.

She’s still Lucy.

She’s still Lucy.

She’s still Lucy.

***

Nyla met them at the hospital doors.

“She’s dehydrated and exhausted. Definitely malnourished. They’ve got her on an I/V and bloodwork report is underway.” She held out a hand to stop him, her fingers firm against his chest. “Be careful with her, Tim.”

He tiptoed up to her room, hovering in the shadows beyond the window in her door before he entered. She was framed in the glass, portrait-mode, surrounded by wires and tubes. They’d changed her into a hospital gown, and it drowned her, the fabric pooling in deep folds around her tiny body. Her skin was still dirty, her eyes glazed and far away. 

Even her fingers were still, sitting in her lap like wilted flowers.

He knocked softly, pushing the door open and meeting her eyes as she looked up at him.

His words lodged in his throat at her expressionless gaze, and he nearly stumbled as he forced himself to walk to her bedside. Her eyes were dry, but he could feel his own welling up, and he turned to look for a chair, clearing his throat and giving himself a moment to swallow the tears.

“Tim.”

He almost tripped again, turning and falling back into the chair in his hurry to respond to her. She unfolded one small hand, holding it palm-up on the bedspread for him to take. He did so without looking, wrapping it in both of his and drawing it up to his lips. 

“I don’t want to do it any more. UC. I’m out. I’m done.”

He tightened his grip on her hand, the tears returning and falling on their joined fingers as he nodded, slowly at first, and then more emphatically, his tears tracing streaky paths along the dirt worn into her knuckles.

***

It had taken much longer for her to come back to herself this time.

Her psychologist praised her, and he knew in his heart that her methods were good, but she’d still get that faraway look that frightened him sometimes, zoning off in the middle of a movie, or when they went on walks around the neighbourhood with Kojo.

Being active drew her back into herself. Taking sunset hikes, camping beside running water, even the rhumba class that Tamara had signed them up for at the community centre.

Carradine signed her off as ‘fit for duty’ within a few weeks.

Harper and Lopez were diligent, assigning her to cases that had nothing even remotely to do with her UC stint, and ensuring that one or other of them was always with her in her first few months back. Nolan and Thorsen played their usual selves, laid back and calm, throwing around silly jokes that soon got her laughing again.

Genny took her out almost every week. She didn’t know the details of the case, but she’d missed her confidant, so it was good for both of them to have some non-cop heart-to-hearts.

And Tim was always there.

Beside her, or in the next room, or at the other end of the phone.

She slowly got used to talking to him again. Started dropping tidbits from her op when they were alone together. Phoned him up when her breath started to get shallow. Dug her nails into his muscles and tried to crawl into his flesh at night.

After the first month back, her nightmares got bad.

The psychologist said it was a good sign; that she was comfortable enough to switch off completely in her sleep and work through the issues haunting her subconscious.

Soon, he was the one with bags under his eyes.

He’d wake up, her fingers scrabbling at his chest or his face, her breath hitching in panicked sobs, and he couldn’t tell if she was back in the barrel or undercover, but he’d soothe her, smoothing her hair away from her face and talking to her in a low murmur until she either woke up, or gasped and settled back into sleep.

The times she woke, the look in her eyes scared him. Far away and lost; a frightened creature rather than his Lucy.

Once she knew him again, she’d crawl into his chest, tap tap tapping at his heart to make sure it was real, and he’d keep rubbing her back and whispering in her ear until her breathing steadied and she’d fallen into slumber again.

Slowly, she changed.

Her laugh came easier, her eyes grew brighter, and her cheeks filled out into the smiling dimples he’d missed so much. 

She grew more affectionate, reaching for his hand, or bumping him with her shoulder when they were out together. More like her old self.

One day he caught her humming in the kitchen, dusting off the glasses on the high shelf. She’d decided to have a party and invite their friends, and he was willing to do anything - anything she asked. Even suffer an evening of Nolan and Bailey yammering on endlessly about their honeymoon.

It all went surprisingly smoothly, only one averted panic attack in the bedroom, which Harper and Lopez easily covered for.

After that, it was like she’d broken the ice, and she started doing the things she loved once more: going for coffees with the rookies at the station (“Everyone needs a mentor, Tim!”) or signing them both up for yoga retreats at the weekends (“We need a detox from tacos, come on!”).

Soon she started broaching narcotics cases again, dipping her toes into cartel infiltration from the safer side of the desk. Her therapist was on call, but she found she was able to take it, handing over to Harper only once or twice when the memories bubbled too close to the surface.

Within the year, he felt like she was truly back to herself. A little layer of darkness, ringed into the story of her life like circles on a tree, but she’d survived and grown, and so had he, tangling the branches of his life ever closer with hers.

One morning, with Kojo still at Genny’s, he took her for a hike. She muttered and complained - too dark, too early, too far away - but she dressed in her hiking gear and knotted her hair into a bun on the top of her head, following him out to the truck with her backpack and dozing in the passenger’s seat while he drove.

Runyon Canyon wasn’t far, but in the early morning darkness it seemed more ominous than he’d have liked. She didn’t complain however, realising his plan was to arrive at the overlook by sunrise, and he rattled his backpack at her with a smile, indicating that breakfast was inside once they stopped.

It was a climb they’d done often before, and she held his hand for most of it, only letting go when the trail became too narrow and they had to take turns leading or following.

The view at the top was spectacular.

They arrived just as the sun was spreading its rays across the city, golden tendrils reaching through the sandy dunes of the mountains to their left, through the concrete spread of the city and all the way out to the sparkling ocean glinting on the horizon. She shaded her eyes and gazed out, enraptured.

“Wow.”

It took her a moment to realise he wasn’t beside her, and when she turned around, she almost tripped over a root below her feet, her breath leaving her in a gasp when she saw him kneeling with the ring.

He rose to catch her, drawing her onto steadier ground and laughing self-consciously at his own embarrassment.

“It doesn’t mean we have to get married. We can decide all of that later.” He still held the small jewellery box between them, and she took it from him, her bun tickling his nose as she gazed down at it. “I just want you to know… I choose you. Every time. Over and over. Always.”

She flicked her eyes up to him, settling her hips into the circle of his hands.

“You do?”

“I do.” He kissed her. “If you’ll have me.”

She tugged the ring out, dropping the box into the large pockets of his shorts, and testing it against the tip of her ring finger.

“Let me.” He took her hand in his, reaching for the ring before she pulled it back abruptly.

“No, Tim. I have to say something first.”

He swallowed, not trusting his voice and nodding at her instead.

“I… I love you,” she said, pulling his knuckles to her lips and kissing them, fixing him in place with a steady gaze. “You don’t have to do this just because you feel some obligation, or you’re worried I’ll disappear into UC again.”

He shook his head, but she was still talking and he closed his mouth quickly.

“I got what I wanted from that life. I excelled at it. But it’s not going to define me. I still want you; you, and me, and the future we talked about together.” Her eyes got shy and she bit her lip, and he bumped his nose against hers to get her to continue. “But I want that whether we’re married or not; with or without a ring. As long as I’ve got you.”

And he couldn’t resist kissing her again, the sun rising up the mountain and setting off flashes of fireworks behind his closed eyes. She was warm in his arms, and soft, and dappled with the golden dust of the desert.

“You’ve always got me.”

She grinned at him then, her nose scrunching up in excitement as she handed him back the ring, and he couldn’t help but copy her, his cheeks aching with the force of his smile.

It fit her finger perfectly, an equal partner to her moonstone ring.

As they ate their breakfast in the warming light of morning, she held her hand up to the sunshine, leaning into his shoulder and letting the glinting stones spread shards of light across their faces.

Right now he felt bliss, and he knew she did too.

But he didn’t want ‘bliss’ forever.

He wanted her.

Him and her.

Them.

With all their fights and lies and secrets. With all their jokes and pranks and laughter.

The good and the bad. The dark times and the light. Their past and their present and their future.

He wanted all of it, and he knew she did too.

All of it.

Always.

#chenfordweek23 #chenford fic #chenford #my fic

[fereldanwench]

I'm going to be obnoxious and presumptuous and tell everyone how to live their lives because I feel like the Cyberpunk 2077 fandom* has an endemic problem with this self-imposed expectation to post new ~*content*~ on a regular basis that is just not sustainable for like 95% of us. And as someone who has also, unfortunately, grappled with that anxiety even though I know it's silly, I feel compelled to tell everyone (myself included) to stop doing that to themselves and slow the fuck down.

(*Probably other fandoms, too--I have many, many Thoughts™ on how ~*content creator*~ culture has had detrimental effects on fandom on the whole, but that's a broader topic for another time.)

Participating in fandom is a hobby, not a grind. No one is going to be upset with you for letting your queue run out or missing a themed day. Nobody expects anyone to have multiple original posts on a daily basis. Your friends aren't going to forget you if you need to take a break. There is absolutely no reason to feel guilty or stressed because a real-life obligation has to take priority over a hobby.

Recognize the ebb and flow of your creativity so you don't burn yourself out. Give yourself the time and space to work on long projects and learn new skills, even if that can't come with regular updates. Let yourself be in the moment while you create. Savor your art--Stop asking yourself "What do I post next?" immediately after you finish a project. Take pride and joy in the work you've already made without wondering how you can make your next post even better.

Understand your limitations and accept that others might not have the same limitations you have. Someone who is single and unemployed is going to have more time to dedicate to learning virtual photography than someone with a family and a full-time job. Someone with chronic fatigue is going to have a harder time churning out fic than someone without that condition. Don't compare your output to someone else's. We all have different creative processes, different backgrounds and skills, and different demands on our time and energy.

What works for me to break out of this mindset might not work for everyone, but these are the 3 main things I find helpful to keep me from succumbing to the darkness:

Intentionally break a streak Have you been posting every single Thirsty Thursday for the past 6 months but are having a hard time keeping up currently and feeling stressed about breaking the streak? BREAK IT. Skip one. Even if you have a post, schedule it for the following week. It'll feel wrong at first, but on Friday you'll realize it didn't matter, your friends are still here, and you will no longer be beholden to this inconsequential posting requirement that exists only in your head.

Revisit old posts/drafts/WIPs/outtakes Go through your old stuff! Let yourself enjoy what you made in the past. Reblog it so new friends and followers can see it. Remember what it was like to work on it and the sense of accomplishment when you finished it and what you learned from it. You might even get a bonus and find yourself inspired to revisit an idea or create a new take on it.

It's an obnoxious cliche at this point, but yes: touch grass Online fandom spaces have been a cornerstone of my social and creative circles for over two decades, so I am not by any means suggesting that there is no value in spending a lot of time here. But you absolutely need to take breaks from your devices and reconnect with the physical world or you will go nuts. Go for a walk, spend a day outside with friends or your pets, pick up a tangible craft like coloring books or journaling--Just find something to get you away from your computer and phone.

tl;dr - Creating in fandom should be fun and enjoyable and a reprieve from all of this shit, not an extension of it. There's absolutely no reason to put this burden on yourself to be some superfan posting new work 37 times a week. If you're in the zone and you've got that flow, roll with it, of course, but don't feel like it always has to be like that because it won't be. And that is completely fine.

#t: wench.txt

[vampire-eros]

hi please read this and don't tag it with blockable tags bc this begging post is REALLY really cheap i promise

Hi, I really didn't want to e-beg on tumblr unless things got REALLY desperate but I don't have enough karma on reddit to beg there bc I almost never use it 💔 So I'm going to beg here. Because things got really desperate <:)

I don't have enough money to get medication for my serial urinary infections.

It causes me extremely consuming urethral pain and discomfort daily if unmedicated and is practically impossible for me to treat by hand.

The sensations can last hours and even days. Can you imagine pain and discomfort deep in your pee-hole? Trying to CHUG water and change your underwear twice a day to prevent it? Do you cringe even at the thought? Please help me if that is the case.

If this is spread enough, I might be able to meet the quota if 3 people chip in 1 SINGULAR DOLLAR. $1.

Got a friend with 3 bucks? Please send it to them bc I REALLY don't want this embarrassment to prevent me from leaving the bathroom several hours a day again. Not even for a week. This kind of thing has left me sobbing just from the feeling alone.

^ This is the money that I have right now and I need $27.72 in my account to make a payment, which makes the quota $13.69 total.

If the quota is met to the dot, I will pay for the medication and then immediately fall completely broke until I get allowance from my landlord aunt and uncle. Which, I have no idea when that's going to come in. It usually comes in at around the end of the month! I don't have any bills to pay yet, so I'll be fine being broke for a little bit, just not broke with pee-pee pain.

𝓟𝖆𝖞𝖕𝖆𝖑 is my only payment method right now, I would try signing up for other payment services but I'm also lacking ADHD medication until further notice, so we'll have to see.

Here is the link

I also have other stuff going on like trying to get employed and move out of my parent's mold-damaged house with weak and broken utilities, and seeing my significant other -- so if you can chip in any extra or notably over the quota, DM me with proof of payment and I will draw a cute little sketch for you!

If you chip in enough (like $10 or $20) I'll even draw a crude nude for you if you like. Just as a heads up, please avoid micromanaging during commissions bc I will probably start crying out of stress - It's why I generally don't do commissions.

Examples of my art can be found on @vampire-erosart but I can't guarantee it'll be as professional because my brain is starving for dopamine and I am at least a level 3/10 of discomfort at all times because i am almost completely unmedicated <3

Anyone who abuses the knowledge of my deadname will be publicly shamed, so that everyone else can block you as well!

Please reblog this so that many people can chip in with just dirty pennies a day to help your friendly neighborhood sexy vampire! :)

edit: no more please! my costs for medication is covered 😊

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

I posted 3,298 times in 2022

That's 2,152 more posts than 2021!

2,719 posts created (82%)

579 posts reblogged (18%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sugaaz

@millenialfanfictionaddiction

@darkcloakedinfinitevoid

@we-are-so-close

@rae-is-typing

I tagged 2,816 of my posts in 2022

Only 15% of my posts had no tags

#my lovely bbys - 2,369 posts

#live action headcannons 🤣 - 396 posts

#gen z anon - 344 posts

#maycat - 193 posts

#haikyu! - 180 posts

#tendou anon - 179 posts

#haikyuu!! - 173 posts

#haikyuu - 155 posts

#haikyū!! - 152 posts

#haikyu - 134 posts

Longest Tag: 70 characters

#but i probably know more about them then they know about themselves 🤣

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

🦊 Being Inarizaki's Manager 🦊

Manager Being s Foreign Exchange Student

Inarizaki x foreign manager (English as a 1st language)

Warnings: Swearing

AN: This is an Anon request! Update: my neck is slowly healing but I'm managing to write 1/2 headcannons a day! I'm thankfully about a week ahead so I'm hoping this gives me enough time to heal and keep ahead!

🌠 Please Like, Reblog and/or Share to help support my writing 🌠

Ok I just imagine being a foreign exchange student would be scary enough

But like being a foreign exchange student, managing the boys volleyball team AND attending Inarizaki 👀

Oof 😬

First off, Aran and Kita are so accepting

Aran definitely questions why you came to Inarizaki of all places 😅

Kita is totally one of those people that the school places new students with

Like he can walk backwards and direct attention to things without even a second thought 🙌🏻

I forgot to mention that this is your third year, which thank god 🙏🏻

Imagine if Atsumu had gotten ahold of you first 😅

Anyways, Kita begins to show you the lay of the land

Basic customs and etiquette that is practiced daily in school and in Japan

It's all very interesting!

Where you come from is very different from your new surroundings and a bit intimidating honestly

Kita will introduce you to Michinari and Omimi next

He's slowly integrating you yn 😊

Michinari is super interested in comparing cultural differences

Please he watches public television daily and his favorite shows are the travel shows ✋️

Omimi is more interested in you personally

Your likes? Dislikes? How you ended up here?

It's honestly a great introduction to high-school in a different country

Unfortunately for you YN, you can't have nice things 🙃

Now you are pretty fluent in Japanese but let's just say English is your first language

You have a basic knowledge and understanding down but it's different in practice

See the full post

687 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

#4

UPDATED: VISUAL CHAT ADDED 🙌🏻

Team Japan's Group Chat: Someone's Following Me

A/N: I promise I'm going to learn how to do text and social media posts 😅 when I reopen requests, there will be a text or headcannon option! Just bare with me, I still hear the dial tone internet connection in my head daily 🤣

YN: Guys 👀 hey can someone come get me?

Yaku: what's wrong YN?

YN: So I just left the coffee shop and there's someone following me

Komori: what coffee shop?

Atsumu: Bokuto, Hinata and I are already in the car!

Sakusa: You don't even know where she is!

Ushiwaka: are you on a public street YN?

Aran: YN you can FaceTime us if you need too

Iwaizumi: if anyone messes with my girl istg!

Sakusa: hold up 🤚🏻your girl?

Hinata: just about to say that 🤨

Iwaizumi: I said what I said 😐

YN: Jesus christ I'm over here trying to dodge a potential kidnapper and you are arguing over me

Kageyama: if we don't save YN now she'll probably go missing

Habuka: RIP YN

YN: WTFUDUCJSJDHDB KAGS 😭😭😭😭😭😭 Hakuba 😫😫😫😫😫😫

Kageyama: what? Haven't you ever seen Law and Order: SVU

Yaku: I mean, he has a point YN

Hoshiumi: what did I miss?

Komori: YN's got a creeper following her, iwaizumi said she's "his" girl and Kageyama is convinced YN's going to be the next victim of a serial killer

Atsumu: seriously Hoshiumi keep up

Hoshiumi: I hate it here 😒

Hyakuzawa: did we all just forget YN's in danger??

Yaku: oh yeah...

Aran: YN, are you near a police station?

Ushiwaka: if you need help, just scream YN

Bokuto: YN WHERE ARE YOU

See the full post

715 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

#3

🦅Being Shiratorizawa's Manager 🦅

Our Adorable Manager Falls Asleep on Ushijima

Ushijima Wakatoshi featuring Shiratorizawa x GN manager

Warnings: Swearing, fluff

AN: This is an Anon request and THE LAST REQUEST!!! It's taken 2 months but here we are 👏🏻 I'm going to be opening requests for chats scenarios and headcannons in June so be on the look out!

Please Like, Reblog and/or Share to help support my writing 🌠

First off, can we just talk about how big this man is ✋️

Seriously, he's 6'3" and like bulky

Yet he just glides thought the air like a freaking flying squirrel

I mean, COME ON 👇🏻

See the full post

800 notes - Posted May 26, 2022

#2

🦊Being Inarizaki's Manager 🦊

😍Miss Manager is Adorable 😍

Inarizaki x Female Manager

Warnings: Swearing, fluff

AN: This is a request from @times-new-roman-in-pastel! This was requested in addition!

🌠 Please Like, Reblog and/or Share to help support my writing 🌠

How does one describe Inarizaki 🤔

Hmm words like scary, intimidating and strong come to mind

The essence of a power house

Plus Atsumu 😅

Please I'm barely starting and I can't resist 🤣

Let's be honest, they are blunt, loud, outspoken and super intimidating

Kita says whatever is on his mind, Atsumu and Osamu have no filters

Suna is essentially the Tsukishima of Inarizaki

Omimi is just like Ushijima 😐

There is literally nothing soft about Inarizaki

That is 👀 until they met you 🥰🌈🌸

Being a new student at Inarizaki is hard on its own, but when you are the most adorable, softest human on earth 🥺

Well it's extremely difficult

Their uniforms are dark colors mixed with some white

Nit really your style but thankfully there is some room to accessorize 💅🏼

Some adorable tights with hearts or bows

A colorful hair ribbon 🎀

Maybe a colorful necklace or undershirt 😍

Sorry YN but you stick out like a sore thumb

But hey, sticky out isn't all bad right?

Definitely not 🤩

You get alot of attention for both females and males in your class as well as above and below you

You're a second year- forgot to mention that 🙃

See the full post

809 notes - Posted May 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

🦊Being Inarizaki's Manager 🦊

Inarizaki 2nd Years

Being Protective of Miss Manager

See the full post

852 notes - Posted April 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[waryfalcon]

Hi! My name is Jazz. Diane Duane reblogged my post about top surgery last week, and you reblogged it from her with a very kind offer of advice and information -- which I super appreciate, thank you. :) And I will now proceed to take you up on that offer.

I'd like to ask: if you had to buy a compression garment to wear while you were healing, where did you get it? Did you have to buy any additional medical supplies like...I don't know, gauze or anything? How much could you move your elbows out to the side while healing? (I've been trying to practice having "t-rex arms", and it's taught me that apparently I'm very expansive in my elbow movements...) And how long was it before you could reach and stoop again in the course of your daily routine, like to empty a dishwasher and other simple things?

Also, if you have any more "things I wish I had known/someone had told me" I will VERY gladly accept them. Your tip about roomy button-up shirts, for example, was great.

Thank you again!! It was super nice of you to offer this. And congrats on your own not-long-ago top surgery!

Hi, Jazz! I'm glad to help. I know it can feel so dang overwhelming! Feel free to hit me up with any other questions or if any of my answers were confusing. (ASDF I meant to reply privately and forgot. If you want me to kill this and message the info to you, let me know!)

Compression Garments

The first one you receive you will wake up in after surgery. I personally got a second. You could get a nice one, I woke up in a Marena Full Vest, but I opted for a $25 snap up half compression vest I found on Amazon with decent reviews because I didn't think about wanting the second and couldn't get a half vest from Marena which was what I wanted in a timely fashion. Note on sizing, I got a men's medium in the Marena but a large in the other and both fit the same.

Then after I could get a binder on over my head I switched to mostly using one of my old binders, this was probably 4 weeks in. I think I wore it something like 6-8 weeks, much of that time was both awake and asleep. They will have recommendations for times in your recovery packet. If they don't some surgeon's list their tips on compression vest time on their websites.

**Note: If you could use a US men's medium and have an address you are comfortable with an internet stranger shipping something, I can send you the Marena and cheaper vest I got both.

Additional Medical Supplies

Pre-Surgery: Hibiclens soap. You should be able to find this at local stores, but def look in the aisle location stuff. I found it was next to wound care stuff. The surgeon will probably give you instructions on how many showers to take with it etc, but I cannot stress enough, do not use it on your face. I didn’t make that mistake, but it was stressed to me hard enough to know that no one would want to.

All general recovery things they will give you to take home with you after surgery/after your follow up visits.

A roll of silicone tape kinda like this stuff. Whether your doctor recommends it, I found it was amazing for softening the scars. Also it is apparently convenient for when you reach the point you can submerge. My surgeon told me it would adequately protect the scars from sunlight if I wanted to go swimming (He told me to go hit the beach during our first cold snap in October, we are 10 hrs away from the nearest beach. I might have laughed at him.) I cut it in half down the length of it and used thinner strips, I found that was plenty to cover the scars and meant I didn't use it near as fast.

If you don't have ibuprofen, get that. I didn't need a lot of pain meds but everyone is different and it's better to have and not need than need and not have. They gave me hydrocodone/acetaminophen tabs and told me I could alternate with an NSAID like ibuprofen if I needed meds more frequently than I could take those. 

Both a small bottle of stool softener and a small bottle of regular laxative. You may only need the stool softener, I started with it and it was not enough. I only needed them once, but I definitely needed the laxative. The combo of the anesthesia and the hydrocodone was tough.

If you have drains (most common) then a small cup or two for draining/measuring. Something like this maybe. I ended up having my friend who stayed to help me out like SCROUNGING to find old ones from nyquil bottles because you can't find them in physical stores on their own very easily. If you have those, just save a couple. If you wanna throw them away after each use, well -waves vaguely at the link- a set like that would be handy.

Range of Motion/Recovery Time

Every recovery is different. I was never at full T-rex arms, but I definitely was not at full ranger of motion for about a month. Every surgeon recommends things a bit differently too. Definitely try and get help that first week with store runs if you realize you need something, grabbing food/making food so you aren't stuck ordering delivery a bunch. Set things you know you'll want to reach on lower cabinet shelves/flat out on the counter. Even if it messes up your sense of order, you can fix it later, reaching above your head or too far side to side is TOUGH. And I definitely did not do as good a job of this as I thought and had to get help getting stuff accessible. As far as reaching down, I didn't notice an issue there at all. But I mostly crouch on my knees when doing that anyway. Assume it will be about impossible week 1 and tough through week 2, getting easier faster than you should do it after that.

My surgeon recommended I not go back to work for 3 weeks, but I did some work from home that third week. When I went back the weight restriction was 10 lbs for another 2 or so weeks. 10 lbs is a lot lighter than you think. (My very young 11lb cat QUICKLY realized I couldn't pick him up off of things and took advantage so hard, luckily I had help to retrieve him that first week when I couldn't even shove him off things)

My surgeon insisted I walk around at least 3 times the day of surgery(to avoid possible blood clots in the legs) and walk around some each day after. But at least 2 of my friends had surgeon's who insisted on complete bed rest the first week. The friend who stayed with me spent half the time staring at me incredulously because I was constantly having to force myself not to try to do more than I could and the last time they did this, the person spent the whole time in bed/was in a lot more pain/etc (which is why I note very strongly that every recovery is different). Meanwhile day 1 something about the anesthesia/pain med combo? I was WIRED. I couldn't sit still or sleep. I paced and chatted at a mile a minute until after 2am. (Given that, I am very lucky I was not stuck on bed rest. I would have SCREAMED)

Other Things it would have been nice to know

I had the stitches that dissolve over time. They do this at different rates. It can sting quite a bit actually. A lot of first aid creams have something numbing. It won't hurt to use them after initial recovery, because when I say at different rates I mean I didn't start having the stinging until after a month. I found I mostly had issues with the nipple grafts, not the main incision, but just on one side. Also? Don't worry too much about bits of what looks like puss. That is normal when they break down slowly, it's most likely not an infection. Basically, ask the nurse during a follow up if you have any concerns, but don't worry about it too much.

If you are a side sleeper, you will probably try to do that sooner than you can comfortably. I would suggest maybe to have a body pillow to either side to sandwich yourself and block turning. This didn't happen for me until I started recovering, but yeah, I definitely did not have a safe guard in place for when it did and that was painful/also difficult to get up from without trying to support too much of my own weight.

Remember that suggestion of a friend? I knew it in advance, but I really didn't know how much I'd ask of them. The one who went to the hospital with me had to pick up my prescriptions after I had the surgery. The one who stayed with me had to get me the laxatives and the the bigger shirts/make food runs/get stuff down for me I didn't realize I'd have trouble reaching/wrangle the cat. Just so many errands.

#medical #long post

[morroodle]

Morrotober Overview

October is over and morrotober is done! I actually made it all the way through without missing a single day (I swapped 2 days because I have a terrible concept of time but that dosent count). I'm so proud of myself. I've tried an October drawing challenge year after year but I always gave up and burned out after the first week so this is a huge accomplishment.

I'm not quite sure what made this year different but there are a few things I think might have helped:

Morro is my blorbo and ninjago is my hyperfixation. I'm already obsessed and thinking about it daily so this wasnt too different

I gave myself flexibility. Even though I ended up doing one for every day I never was going to force myself to do so, I had the freedom to skip a day if I didn't want to do it.

Flexibility pt. 2: I didn't make a full drawing every day. I allowed myself to put in as much or as little effort as I wanted which removed some of the pressure and worked better with my schedule

Now for some fun stuff! A recap of the art I made this month and my thoughts on some of the peices.

My favorite peice: day 29 - au/the movie

This was so much fun and I'm so happy with how it turned out. I couldn't decide on one au to draw since I have so many and keep making them so I just did a bunch! (Copy paste my best friend) I've had a bunch of ideas for designs bounching around for a while and getting to draw a handful of them with less effort than a full drawing which is great for my mental health. Honestly I liked making this and the results so much that I'm probably gonna do more of these with more designs.

Least favorite: day 1 - torment/chains

A dissapointing start to the challenge but luckily things only went uphill from here. The reason i dont like it is because this is one of those instances where the idea I have in my head is above my skill level. Additionally this is one of the ones that took the longest which is extra dissapointing considering I don't even like the result. I am proud of the hands though!

Most effort: day 14 - crew

I am NOT used to doing more than like 2 characters in one drawing and this was a challenge. Figuring out a pose for all of them was hard and I had to get creative with Wrayth cause he came last. I originally wanted to put a ghost dragon behind them too but that was just more effort and time than I had. Funny story about this one actually! I completed the base sketch for 3/5 of the characters but then my computer got fucky and I had to restart it. I saved the drawing but when I tried to open it I got the dreaded clip studio Unsupported File Format and had to restart ;-; I spent like half an hour trying to restore but had to give up in the end and restart.

Least effort: day 23 - memories

Little guy. Tiny dude. Took like 5 minutes and I love it. I didn't realize just how small I made him until I got a reblog saying they couldn't find him.

Most popular: day 5 - rope

Would have liked for some of my other drawings to get some of the attention this one got but honestly I'm not suprised it got so popular. It's a masterpiece.

Least popular: day 12 - underwater/submarine

Guess people don't want morro to be destinkified

Extra: day 6 - skeleton

This dude literally showed up on google?? I made that???? The funny part is the link dosent even lead to my blog or tumblr

Additional notes: wait what am I supposed to do now?? I think I forgot how to have free time?? For an entire month it's just been school eat sleep and morrotober but now it's over I don't know what to do with myself. A

Did I enjoy this? Yes. Will I do it again next year? Who fucking knows. Anyway back to my normal bs

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago morro #morro #morrotober #art