#tag team multi chapter

[soundwavemain]

We’ve Still Got Hope

Chapter 1: Waiting

General content warning for descriptions of the dead, people actively dying, and other apocalyptic scenarios.

Casey was used to running all her life. It became a familiar face during an alien apocalypse–turning tail and running like her life depended on it.

Because it did. It does.

Being the only person with, at this point, a decade of formal martial arts training and an extensive understanding of ninjutsu, it surprised no one that Casey turned out to be a natural scout. Her ability to quickly, and more importantly, quietly move through the outside world meant the difference between their survival and termination. She saw the outside more than anyone else on their team. Followed by Leo who refused to be left in the dust even with the responsibility of their world already creasing his brow deep enough to rival Raph’s chasm.

Still, as their resident medic, Leo was more useful in the caves, tending to the injured and ill, than scurrying across the wasteland that they once called home. After liberating a kraang camp, the medical bay–little more than a large cave branching off to the left of the entrance–was at full capacity. It probably wouldn’t empty anytime soon considering Casey’s current mission.

Casey surveyed her surroundings–desolate, bleak nothingness, hollowed-out buildings harboring phantom nightlife–as she darted through the empty city. Her mask’s HUD displayed no live biometrics nearby. She sighed, disengaging her mask despite the multiple Donnie alerts telling her not to. It felt uncomfortable shoving her hair back from its perch atop her head but sometimes Casey found it easier to perform reconnaissance without the distracting pop-ups.

This far from Metro Tower, there weren’t even kraangified humans to worry about striking down. Donnie sent her this way because he got energy readings indicative of a camp jailbreak. He mapped out the general radius of where any survivors would hide. Years of following the genius’ lead meant Casey trusted Donnie’s judgment. Still, that didn’t stop her from grumbling about the lack of activity.

Rotting corpses littered the mapped-out path Casey took. Families, lovers, children–all huddled together in their last moments. It was rare for Casey to find someone completely alone. Usually, one corpse lay not far from another. They died waiting.

Waiting for her to save them. To complete her duties as resident rescuer. To do a damned thing in this apocalypse.

Casey clenched her fists so tight her knuckles went white. She turned from the skyline, trying to shake the vision of all the dead she’s seen over the past eleven years. Raph always reminded her that the lives they did save mattered just as much. And it helped to think of the people she was able to liberate.

But she knew. They all did. No matter how hard they tried, how fast she ran, there was only so much their small team could do to save the vast amount of people under the kraang’s control.

A soft sound brought Casey out of her thoughts. Her mask immediately engaged, snapping onto her face as she braced herself for an attack. She turned this way and that but nothing came at her. Despite the lack of impending doom, Casey remained tense.

Then she heard it again–a whimper. Something so inconsequential that she almost wrote it off as her overactive imagination running on fumes after a three-day scouting mission.  But there it was! Quiet sniffles muffled by something. Casey glanced at the alley below and noticed a dumpster turned over on its side. Down the fire escape, she went until her feet touched the ground.

She approached the dumpster, cautious in case it happened to be a kraangified child. Years of rescues taught her that they seemed to just wallow and cry until they perished, consumed by the alien flesh. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. She hated seeing that more than anything. Something about kids being transformed into something they couldn’t even sustain felt like being stabbed in the heart.

Her brownie troop, all calling out for her. Where was she? They needed her.

The lid opened easily enough. No new grime encrusted its sides since people didn’t use outdoor trash bins anymore. Too exposed. Too risky. Plus, the smell of garbage usually caught the kraangified’s attention, bringing them to its source like bloodhounds.

Once open, though, the dumpster released the pungent odor of a rotting corpse. Casey thanked her paranoia for once since her mask, when engaged, minimized most scents due to its filtration system. She peered inside and saw a dead woman staring back at her, gaze unwavering. The woman seemed calm, almost like she made peace with her untimely demise. Her cheeks were gaunt, any visible skin stretched taut over her bones. Her eyes, sunken in their sockets, bore holes into Casey. She broke contact first and looked down at the woman’s midsection.

There in her hands, impossibly small and sickly pale, laid a baby, its hair ruffled up from resting against its mother’s chest. It didn’t seem to have much baby fat which was unsurprising. What with the state of the world and all. But its eyes, too big for an older kid, pointed to the fact that it couldn't be older than two years. That’s when Casey realized the other scent hanging in the air–shit.

Oh. Donnie owed her big time for this.

Casey had about as much knowledge about children as Dr. Delicate Touch knew about feelings. Which meant absolute jack shit. But, one thing she could surmise from what she knew about apocalyptic landscapes was that they would have company soon. There was no question that she could make it out of there before enemies arrived but what of the kid?

She glanced at the baby whose tiny fist clenched its mother’s shirt like a lifeline. Reaching out for it, the baby turned away. It made another noise, louder this time. First smell, now sound–the kid couldn’t help its case. Casey grabbed the baby from the woman’s hands, prying its fist open. It had a tough grip for a baby. It whined at her, kicking its tiny legs and smacking down its little fists onto her arm as she set it on the ground.

Casey looked around for something to clean the kid. Its mother’s clothes were out of the question. She could practically hear Leo shouting at her about the high bacteria content in unwashed clothes and the rate of infection. That also ruled out the cloth scraps covering the kid. That only left…

Oh, ho ho. Donnie owed her so much.

Trying not to think about it too hard–because if she did, she’d start cussing and more noise was the last thing they needed–Casey removed her sash. It wasn’t ideal. Hell, none of this was ideal. Children were hard to keep around in the apocalypse. Small and defenseless and weak–

Casey found her brownie troop, well-versed in combat enough to take on O’Neil, strewn about Fifth Avenue. Their weapons still clutched in white-knuckled grasps, eyes wide open. Watching.

She discarded the soiled sash and picked up the kid who still fought against her. Her HUD alerted her of enemies slowly making their way toward her location. More pop-ups appeared as she docked her weapon. Donnie’s voice kept saying it was a bad idea to put away her weapon when in pursuit. She dismissed his A.I. The kid kept hitting her chest but she just pressed it closer to her side, holding its bottom so it wouldn’t slip off, and ran.

...

Raph always waited for Casey whenever she went on missions. Call it devotion, call it stupidity, but he felt unsteady without her beside him. In recent years, she was the only one who got to see him laidback, at ease–or, as much calm as they were allowed in post-invasion New York City. Around his brothers and the other members of the resistance, Raph tried to keep up appearances. He knew they needed someone dependable to lead them. To keep them hidden, safe, alive.

So he was sterner than he was in his youth, quieter. Leo once joked that he seemed more like Dad than the rest of them. Raph didn’t know how to feel about it. They lost their father during the invasion and the mere mention of him, even years later, still reopened the wound he desperately kept bandaged up, away from view. Leo hadn’t mentioned the resemblance since then.

Before New York City fell, whenever Raph felt stir-crazy, he would run around until he was so out of breath he had to stop. But now he couldn’t go outside. For their safety, regular outside access was prohibited to anyone who wasn’t fast enough to outrun enemies. That left Casey and Leo free from the ban and Raph stuck inside unless a mission called for his muscle.

It wasn’t like he had anything else to do either. Helping out the injured was the most time-consuming option but his hands were too large to wield precision equipment necessary for surgery which meant he couldn’t help Leo in the medbay. Donnie assisted Leo during medical rushes anyway so Raph stuck to tending superficial wounds.

All that work ended the day before and left Raph bored. No one told him that aside from being absolutely devastating, the apocalypse would be boring. There was only so much to do inside a shallow cave system. After about ten laps around each room, someone usually told him he’d dig a path straight through the rocky floor.

He was considering asking Leo to show him a magic trick when he heard the familiar sounds of Casey cursing. A big smile wormed its way onto his face until he remembered his best friend only cursed upon returning home because they were in trouble. Raph readied his sai. He crept toward the entrance and leaped out, ready to cause hell.

Casey stared at him like he suddenly grew two heads, her arms stretched away from her body. They kept a kicking toddler from hitting her. She scowled at the poor baby, hissing out something that sounded like a curse.

“Case!” Raph exclaimed, cutting her off.

She gave him a look. One that read, “You have no idea what hell I just went through.”

Leo chose that moment to show up from the medbay, hands dripping in water. “Ugh, guys. Who moved the towels?” He looked at Casey and Raph, then the kid. “Huh.” He tilted his head. “What. Is that a baby?”

“No, Blue. It’s a fucking blimp–of course, it’s a baby!” Casey shouted.

The baby stopped moving at Casey’s tone. Their face scrunched up, turning red as fat tears rolled down their cheeks. Casey brought them to her hip so she could cover her ears as the baby started wailing.

“Make it stop!”

Raph rushed to her side, taking the baby away. “They’re not an ‘it’, Case.” He rocked the baby back and forth in his arms, pressing them against his plastron.

A combination of the gentle motion and Raph’s soft cooing forced the baby’s cries to trail off. They looked up at him, big eyes staring at him. They seemed so… small. Especially in Raph’s embrace. He brought a big hand to their face and wiped away their tears. Their fingers grasping his surprised him. They had a strong grip for a baby.

Leo joined him in looking at the baby. “Where’d you find the squirt?”

“Only thing alive I found on my mission,” Casey huffed. Her arms crossed over her chest. It drew Raph’s attention to her midsection where her sash was notably missing. “It was hiding in a dumpster with its mother. Probably waiting for help.”

“Waiting for her,” was left unsaid but Raph knew what she meant. He understood her better than anyone. Her insecurities, her faults.

Casey cried herself to sleep in his arms, begging for her troop to be spared.

Raph walked over to her and gave her the baby. He fixed her arms so she held them securely, cradling their head. With the gentle touches and possibly because they were tuckered from everything that happened, the baby began nodding off. They blinked slowly, head dipping forward so their face pressed against Casey’s collarbone. Raph nudged them so they were more comfortably arranged and smiled.

“You saved them, though. That’s good enough in my book,” he said.

You’re good. You did good.

Leo looked between them. His gaze left a prickly feeling on Raph’s skin but he ignored it. Casey didn’t bother looking up. Her gaze was fixed on the baby in her arms. Proof of what she accomplished. All the answer in this blight of a world that she did something worthwhile.

“Serviceable,” she said, sniffing.

It read, “You can’t touch me.” Unmistakably Casey Jones’ tone of complete indifference. Raph knew better. She was his best friend, after all.

I love you. I love you.

Next Chapter

Art by @fanficmaniatic

#quinn i swear you dont have to reblog this one i just wanna get this in the show's tag #anyways hi rottmnt fandom are you sick of me yet? well you will be :] #yes im still promoting my in progress multi-chapter fic if i stop i'll scream #its the doomed team's trauma and love for junior explained fic that no one asked for!!! #i originally set out for this to be junior centric but now it feels like a spotlight for the team's trauma caused by the invasion #but hey if you like this (and my other writings) please consider reblogging this post and leaving a comment on my fic i truly appreciate it #rottmnt #tmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt fic #tmnt fic #rise casey jones #rise casey jones jr #rise raph #rise leo #junior and his totally normal parents #my writing #anyone new to my blog hii im soundwavemain and i call rottmnt movie casey junior because the ORIGINAL rottmmt casey is cassandra jones #rise cassandra jones #sorry Karday i gotta tag you bestie #tcest dni #<- i will fucking block you get away from me

[momobani]

&TEAM hyung line + fingering

MINORS DNI | smut under cut | 0.5k

a/n: i saw someone say the tags were dry and i took it personally

K

Casually has you sprawled on his lap while he watches something or games but that lil skirt you’re wearing is a lil too short and his hands keep wandering, resting on your ass or playing with your thighs until it becomes you shuffling around and he just has to ask if you want more. You don’t hesitate to say yes and he ends up teasing you over your underwear, trying to get you all nice and worked up for him, maybe even giving your ass a few playful slaps, before pulling your panties to the side and then teasing you some more just cuz he can, before letting one finger dip in and out of your now dripping hole, then adding another when you start grinding back on his hand. In conclusion, K’s a fucking tease, hope that helps.

Fuma

Actually would probably have a whole plan on exactly what he’s going to do - his very own worshipping you itinerary if you will. Elaborately would make out with you first, maybe on the couch, then test the waters and trace his fingers over your heat, just to see how much you want it already, then would move on to peeling your clothes away and spending some time with his head between you legs, his mouth working its magic before his fingers inevitably followed and gently scissored you open for him, his mouth never quite leaving the general vicinity of your cunt. Makes you cum several times and that is all before he even thinks about fucking you. He really doesn’t mind playing a long game, as long as you enjoy every moment of it.

Nicholas

Honestly, would be extreme. Has you stripped and spread open for him in front of your bedroom mirror, sitting in his lap, your back to his chest while he makes you watch him tease your clit while his other hand traces, holds and teases anywhere and everywhere on the surface of your skin, maybe even curling around your throat. You’re grinding down on his lap and into his hand but he doesn’t start fingering you until you’re almost on the verge of tears cuz you want to cum so badly and he just won’t give it to you. Switches between looking like he wants to devour you and smiling sweetly at you in the mirror. The word casual doesn’t exist in his vocabulary.

EJ

Completely spontaneous opportunity that just had to be seized. You’re just grabbing a snack in the kitchen and before you know it, his lips are on yours and his hand is down your pants just cuz. Very messy, desperate and hot. The can’t-stop-even-if-you-hear-someone-coming-down-the hallway type of desperate cuz his fingers just feel too good pumping in and out of your cunt and you beg him not to stop between kisses. Whoever was coming, goes away, and that only spurs him on to finger fuck your pussy until you’re practically mewling. Of course sweet Euijoo just has to indulge you even if it disrupts snack time.

*

a/n: thanks for reading, feedback is always appreciated and i’m open for discussion hehe, i’ve been seeing a gap in the market so to speak in terms of &team tumblr so i’m thinking of filling it up a little. i don’t usually do posts like this, but i really felt like giving it a go. i also have a multi-chapter nicholas fic that i started recently if anyone wants to check it out. stay tuned for more <3

nicho fic

momobani masterlist

#&team #&team smut #andteam #andteam smut #&team k #&team fuma #&team nicholas #&team ej #&team x reader #&team imagines #&team fics #momobani.writes

[tsukimefuku]

✎ᝰ. jujutsu partners au masterlist

mdni | canon divergence | multigenre | nanami x reader x higuruma

cross posting: on ao3 here.

ᝰ summary: ten years after a mission gone bad in which gojo and nanami saved your life, you go — against your will — to work at jujutsu high as a sorcerer. you just never hoped this would elicit working alongside partners, and getting too close to them might turn out messy. this is a sequence of one-shots set in the same canon divergent alternate universe, in which Reader is a sorcerer with a considerably complicated relationship with Jujutsu High.

ᝰ important info: they're all written and posted in a non-linear fashion. To keep some organized way of reading them all, the fics are listed in chronological order. Writing in this is kind of experimental, so writing style might differ from one story to another.

ᝰ a/n: blue for Nanami focused stories | orange for Higuruma focused stories | both for both | stories with other characters have no particular color.

+ Disclaimers

- CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT. Do not proceed unless 18+! - Contains angst, fluff, and slow burn. - There will be more multi chapter short stories. - The one-shots are listed in chronological order. - I write flawed characters — and when I say flawed, I mean FLAWED. They can (and sometimes will) be idiots, assholes, mess up, make mistakes and make up. This is an important one, please don't ignore it. - I called this a love triangle for the sake of simplicity, but it's a V.

+ One-shots, short-stories and drabbles (in chronological order of events)

Stories below will be tagged as follows:

💛 Fluff and/or Comfort | 💔 Angst and/or Hurt | 😂 Crack and/or Comedy | 💋 Romance | 🌶️ Smut and/or clear mentions of | 💥Action and/or canon-typical violence

To be loved is to be changed (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛😂 The day you arrived at Jujutsu High and encountered friends from the past.

These silly little memories (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛😂 You reminisce about the past while chatting with Ijichi and Yuuji.

In my shoes (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💥💔💛 You get severely injured while on one of your first missions with Nanami.

Tea for your thoughts (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛 Soft drabble where you receive tea waking up after a terrible night.

Valentine's Day and dark chocolate (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛 You bought a box of chocolates you don't really like.

Would you let me die? (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 You and Nanami have a significant conversation, and you request something of him.

Driving lesson (Platonic Ijichi & OC/Reader) 💛😂 You asked Ijichi for some driving lessons.

Wardrobe malfunction (Light Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂 Your cursed technique isn't exactly clothing-friendly, and when you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you only had one person you could ask for help.

Photo, motto! (Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi chaotic trio, light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 😂💛 Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi are shocked to learn you have no social media accounts, and decide to change that. However, things don't go as planned.

About witches and villages that hate sorcerers (light/implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💥 What happens when your communication gets cut off during a mission in a village, and everyone knew you went there in the wrong state of mind?

Kikufuku picnic gratitude (Platonic Gojo x OC/Reader) 💛 Your friend Satoru Gojo just had some intense news and needs company.

The search for the man in the black suit (Higuruma & OC/Reader)💥 You were assigned to find and capture Higuruma Hiromi, a curse user sentenced to death by Jujutsu higher ups. You're just not sure if he really deserves to die.

Toxic endeavors (Higuruma & OC/Reader)💥💔 You and Higuruma are on your third mission together, and you save him from getting injured, putting yourself in harm's way as you do so.

Team fighting (light Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛😂 You decided to train team fighting with Higuruma in an unorthodox way.

Short story: Right, wrong and the in-between (Nanami, OC/Reader, Higuruma) 💛💔💥 You and Higuruma were assigned to investigate the disappearance of women around Shinjuku. This led to a dicey situation regarding what place Jujutsu sorcerers occupy in this world and what is their role to play when non-sorcerers get involved. Chapters: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Epilogue

Crooked gardening (light/implied Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛 Higuruma keeps thinking about something you have done for him, and takes a walk to clear his mind.

Kindness and sunflowers (light/implied Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛😂💋 You get a drunk Higuruma safely home.

Short story: Colleagues in arms 💥 Nanami and Higuruma are dispatched to exorcize a curse together, having to conciliate their personal issues in order to get the job done. Chapters: Single chapter

Where does your mind drift? (light Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 After you and Nanami get stranded trying to get back to Tokyo, you both end up having a chat about your feelings.

PRIV FOR REWRITE - The event, Part 1 (explicit! Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ You find yourself entangled with Nanami in his apartment, and worry where this might be going.

PRIV FOR REWRITE -The event, Part 2 (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💋 The aftermath of The Event, Part 1. Nanami needs to have a serious talk with you.

The man who played with fire (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ After some drinks by yourself and getting frustrated with someone, you stupidly knock on Higuruma's door to test a theory.

The morning after is still last night (Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋 After last night, you and Higuruma share a brief pillow talk.

What if (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💋 What if the world was more forgiving, and you and Nanami never became jujutsu sorcerers?

Short story: Lover's Pass (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💛💔💥💋 You and Nanami were sent to investigate cursed activity linked to disappearances in the Lover's Pass. Meanwhile, you both still have to deal with the fallout that happened after the last time you were together. Chapters: Single chapter

Bartender confessions (Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔 Nanami is trying to drink himself into oblivion to get his mind off of you.

Tactics (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋🌶️ You and Higuruma finally go on your first not-date when you decide to give him an answer.

Human resources, tasukete! (Gojo / Shoko / Ijichi. Fluff Higuruma x OC/Reader, just crack, honestly) 💛💔😂 You're concerned and decide to ask your friends about Jujutsu High's HR policies regarding romantic relationships.

It takes one to know one (Higuruma x OC/Reader) 💛💋 You and Higuruma decide to make a promise to each other.

Tie me up (explicit! Higuruma x OC/Reader) 😂💋🌶️ After failing to make a romantic dinner, you're very upset. Hiromi volunteers to “help you out” with that frustration.

Tea and coffee (Higuruma x OC/Reader, implied Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💛😂 - You had a sleepless night and needs some caffeine to keep yourself from falling asleep before the day has even begun, so Nanami and Hiromi lend a helping hand.

Short story: Old regrets and guilt ridden pasts 💔💛💋🌶️ After you enter Hiromi's domain and he meets an acquaintance from the past, you both see yourselves confronting ancient ghosts and old regrets. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (10%)

Bread for breakfast (Higuruma x OC/Reader, implied past Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔 - Hiromi decides to walk down to a bakery he likes and have breakfast before heading to Morioka, and ends up bumping into Nanami.

Fixing broken things (implied/soft Nanami x OC/Reader) 💔💛 - After you realize that everything you were taking care of just wound up crooked anyway, you're pissed and needs a helping hand in order to not let the anger get the better of you.

Forgiveness is a collective resource (platonic Gojo & OC/Reader) 💔💛 - As you're telling Gojo about your most recent fallout, he ends up telling you in return the last question Geto posed him before leaving.

The letter (coming soon…) 0%

Bar discoveries (coming soon…) 0%

No more patience behind the wheels (coming soon...) 100%

Unwell (coming soon...) 10%

Books and dinner (coming soon…) 40%

Eulogy for the love remained (coming soon...) 30%

How do you say it? (soon) 0%

In-office nap time (soon) 0%

Something’s off (soon) 0%

+ About and P.A.Q. (Possibly Asked Questions)

Q: How did this come to be? This came into my mind as I was thinking about my Jujutsu Kaisen Original Character, Shiori Yamada. She is from my JJK Canon Compliant fanfic, Sand and Snow. I thought: what if she came to Jujutsu High years after the events of Sand and Snow? And that's where it started.

Q: What's the difference between the short stories and the one-shots? Mostly, I usually have a long or dedicated main plot in my short stories, whereas in the one-shots, what is written is much more focused on an excerpt of the characters' interactions.

Q: what is the best way to read this? I wrote it in a way that basically all one-shots can be read as stand-alone pieces (same for each short story). Just read in the chronological order of events, as listed above.

Q: is it the same f!reader in all of these stories? Yes, it is The reader is based off of my Original Character, Shiori. I didn’t intend to make her a staple, but just liked the character too much to let it slide. I’ll eventually make a reference sheet with her story (as soon as I finish Sand and Snow, to avoid spoilers).

+ Relevant updates + Notes

other updates can be checked on the reblog section

Playlist (a.k.a. stuff I listen to when writing these): ♪ Want me too - Mons Vi / ♪ Heart's a Mess - Gotye / ♪ It's gonna rain - Bonnie Pink / ♪ I love you so - The Walters / ♪ Ichigo Batake de Tsukamaete - Sunny Day Service / ♪ Setsuna - Sunny Day Service / ♪ For Emma - Bon Iver / ♪ Break - alex_g_offline / ♪ My love, mine all mine - Mitski / ♪ Babooshka - Kate Bush / ♪ One last kiss - Hikaru Utada / ♪ Tactics - The Yellow Monkey / ♪ Mr. Deja Vu - Naja / ♪ Stuck on the puzzle - Arctic Monkeys / ♪ We’re all eating each other - Julie Ivy / ♪ Head Over Feet - Alanis Morissette (HiguReader specific) / ♪ Nothing in my way - Keane (NanaReader specific) / ♪ I bet on losing dogs - Mitski / ♪ Chamber of reflection - Your Anxiety Buddy (cover) / ♪ Sunny - Yorushika / ♪ Sayonara Bye Bye - Matsuko Mawatari / ♪ Misery - Maroon 5 / ♪ First love/Late spring - Mitski / ♪ Heart skipped a beat - The XX

ׂ╰┈➤ You can listen to the full playlist here (on YouTube).

Update + Mar 26, 2024

I just decided to list all one-shots and short-stories together. Seemed more simple and efficient.

Update + Mar. 23, 2024

There are some things I want to put here because as an anxious writer, I like when other writers do this.

1. this is my COPIUM from the trauma I have endured during JJK (thanks Gege), so no matter what, THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING for all characters. I just like the bumpy road, makes the happiness at the end feel worthwhile.

2. I decided to one-shot the ending. However, the long fic based off of this universe will probably have a slightly different and bigger one. There are many things (protagonist’s power journey, lore, her backstory, actual big plot that I have planned, etc) that I really want to write on the long fic, and didn’t find a way of doing so in these one-shots and short stories.

3. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but I began cross posting these on AO3. The link is on the top.

4. The Big Sad™ and The Big Feels™ are about to get started. I’ll just finish up some one-shots first and then proceed with them. There will be angst, but a lot of fluff too.

Commentary

Random thoughts and fun facts from the author that absolutely no one asked for but I wanted to write anyway

Themes are... guilt, forgiveness, grief, and life after loss, I guess? Idk, I like writing characters interacting and growing with each other, so I just give them their trauma and let them work through it.

I first got inspired to write HiguReader when I listened to “Loser, Baby” from Hazbin Hotel. They’re both so over Jujutsu High’s shit and vibe on that shared contempt that I just loved the concept of it.

One of my favorite things to do is getting traits from a character and twisting them to be a double edged knife - a quality and a flaw at the same time. Basically, that’s what I did with Nanami’s protective persona, and intend to do (as of writing this on march 24th) with Higuruma’s sense of justice and responsibility.

I was terrified writing my first smut piece (The Man who Played with Fire), and I’m astonished at how well it was received. You guys are the best, seriously.

Nanami’s suffering will end soon (I say as of writing this, march 24th).

I got inspired by some very talented authors on this site to write non-explicit sex scenes, and will try doing it in two or three one-shots, where there is sex involved, but I don’t think smut would fit very well.

Writing smut as a demisexual person is an entire experience, let’s just say that.

From the very beginning, I just found it impossible in my heart to ship or even hint at shipping OC/Reader and Gojo. Also, as a NM person who doesn’t appreciate rigid hierarchy of romantic x platonic relationships, I wanted to write more on becoming friends with Gojo. However, from what I could see when writing these fics and shorts, this will end up mostly in the long fic.

I STRUGGLE with headers so damn much. I don’t like using fanart (shy to ask for permission), and finding good fitting anime frames/manga panels is usually a little difficult without becoming too repetitive. I’ll just try my best making headers for the AU stories moving forward.

I like writing strong, capable, willful female characters who are secure of themselves and have got some rizz iykwim. Dainty female characters are really not my thing when it comes to writing. I’ll eventually try writing more delicate or heart-warming female leads/readers, though, because we should strive to get out of our comfort zone.

Writing in 2nd person is still a challenge for me. I was used to writing in 1st person in a Lispectoresque style when I wrote ten years ago (also, I did it in my native language). “The Letter” will be (or “was”, depending on when you’re reading this) my attempt at transporting my original style of writing into English and reader insert.

#jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #jjk hiromi #hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jjk #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #fuku writes

[princessleechan]

"You're the Man" Profiles #2

Masterlist

⚽synopsis: After your university cut your soccer team to prioritize the men’s team, it’s natural you have a falling out with your then soccer-star-player boyfriend and impersonate your twin brother at the rival university to play on their men’s team. Wait, it’s not? Oh well.

⚽pairing: afab!reader x ot13 (??? Member)

⚽genre: humor, romance, crack, eventual smut

⚽series tags: MDNI, she’s the man au, revenge au???, cross dressing!reader, reader identifies anything but male, sports au, queer themes, university au, love-whatever the fuck kind of shape, tags will vary per chapter

⚽Tag list: @90s-belladonna @the-boy-meets-evil @lirtha97 @hipsdofangirl @justineasian @kwanisms @multi-kpop-fanfics @pantumin @wooahaeproductions @mayashu @shuasdraftsalt @lone-lone-ranger @headlockimnida @horanghaezone @haolistic @porridgesblog @jeonjungkaka @luchiet @ujimatchaaa @skzdesi @cheoliehansolie @vlbii @myghobi @sisterofsomeone @joonsytip @gyublues @alltheshineofthestars-blog @randomworker @isabellah29 @savgogh @too-many-kpop-hubands @kotarousproperty @shingsoluvely @kamabokogonpachro @skittlez-area512 @seccdlurv @chisskaa @mochiteez @theyluvfrankocean @lllucere @thomawifey @middle-of-the-earth @okiedokrie @itsokaytobedumb00 @humankimbap

Seungcheol: The soccer team captain and dad who knows what’s best for his team and is essentially there in place of there coach who never seems to be around. Former MVP until Mingyu joined the team two years later but has never felt any ill will towards him, but will nag at him like a clingy mother. That just meant that Mingyu’s his favorite.

Jeonghan: team member who recently injured his leg and has been indefinitely benched until further notice. Naturally nosy and suspicious as fuck of Y/n for being unrealistically pretty, that’s his job. There has to be something up with you and he’s kind of determined to find out. Emphasis on the kinda. There are still better things to do.

Wonwoo: One of Mingyu’s closest friends and usually the person Mingyu would confide in. Joined the soccer team because Mingyu said it’d be fun so he’s on the team. Has eccentric taste. Currently interested in someone he describes being misunderstood and wishes other people would see her how he sees her.

Soonyoung: team’s defense player, emphasis on player. Has a track record for getting with everyone on the track team and other sports teams on campus while he’s at it, but gets the job done when needed and reliable teammate. Has a particular interest in you, the new guy, and wonders what is it about you that’s different than everyone else on the team. Maybe it's just his hormones talking. He’s just enthusiastic as he would call it.

Joshua: Seungcheol’s secondhand man and if Seungcheol can’t be found for some reason, Josh is your best bet. Can be a little shit instigator and loves having some power but knows how overwhelming the power can be and rather work in the shadows and let Seungcheol do the heavy lifting.

#svthub #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #nana writes #Ytm #seventeen smau #seventeen fake texts #​plc.smaus💕 #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen series

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Sixteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen

AO3 Link

Author's Note: And we're back! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I took some time away. I'm honestly glad I did. TL;DR (or read the update in the previous chapter) I lost my job, things were rough. I'm feeling a lot better now and here we are with the final Aegon birthday chapter! As I stated as well, we'll be moving to something closer to a three week posting schedule for the last few chapters of this fic and continue on that posting schedule for the sequel.

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my eternal love to @vampire-exgirlfriend, whose been my rock. I love you. Please go join her as she finishes up her Aemond fic, They Say I Killed You (Haunt Me Then)!

Warnings: Larys Strong Jumpscare, and MURDER!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Flew Like a Moth to You

Aegon's birthday hunt includes some fantastic girl action and some murder! OH! And Some Jacelaena biting. You love to see it.

Floris Baratheon could not sit still, clutching her bow and quiver, peering out the carriage window as they approached the Kingswood. “A-hunting we shall go, a-hunting we shall go-”

“Hi-Ho the derry-o, a-hunting we shall go,” Abby sang in turn, the song a familiar one from childhood. The Baratheon girl had been quite annoyed that she could not ride a horse the way the other men did, but with the promise that she would not have to sit with her sister in a carriage, she had been content enough.

Abby sat beside Lythene Ryger, who had been quite speechless at the invite to the carriage. Wylla would have normally been with them, but with her soon to be good-sister, Alys Bracken, coming along, she was off playing chaperone and overly curious and mischievous younger sister to Alys and Harrion. Abby was glad she had the opportunity to do so, for her dear friend was giving up much to stay in the south as her Mistress of Keys instead of returning home to the Karhold.

On the other side of Helaena, Margaery Crane of Red Lake sat. Her lush, light brown hair was braided in a crown around her head, and her face was square with large, unnervingly green eyes. Her head was bent towards Helaena’s, threads of evergreen and butter yellow woven in her fingers as she taught the princess how to finger knit. It was an easier pastime during the long carriage ride to the camp than Helaena’s embroidery. Her twin sister, Desmara, sat on Abby’s other side. The only difference between the pair was her dark, chestnut hair and the scar across her full mouth.

“I’m sure if you ask Daeron when he goes out with the party, he’ll retrieve the stag antlers for you,” Helaena said, her eyes focused on the thread between her fingers. “He’ll love the opportunity to prove himself.” Floris rolled her eyes in only the way a girl of one and ten could, her black braid wrapped around her head with stubborn tendrils escaping. She tugged on the ties of her raven black cloak.

“Nay, Your Grace,” she said primly. “I would show my own mettle, and face the stag myself.” Her cheeks were pink all the same. Abby bit her lip to hold back her chuckle, not wanting to tease the girl. She caught Desmara’s own amused look, the scar across her mouth pulling at her own smile.

“Well, I don’t think they’ll let you go hunting the stag, Lady Floris,” she said. Floris looked pleased at the kind address from the elder girl. “But we’ll be going hawking and the spoils are certainly yours. That’s how I obtained the rabbit fur for my gloves.”

“That’s true,” Abby chimed in. “And you are a child of Nightsong, are you not? I’m sure falconry is in your blood.” Floris’ mother was a Caron, with a lineage of fierce warriors nestled in the Dornish Marches. Lady Ellyn Caron had songs sung of her, and how she, in part with other lords of the Stormlands, defeated the Vulture King. It was exactly the kind of family lineage Abby could see Floris idolizing.

Floris nodded seriously, running her fingers along her bow. “This is true. I suppose I should practice.”

“Practice until you come back dragging the stag behind you,” Helaena continued. “My elder sister is said to have taken down a boar with her own hands, only a dagger as a weapon. I think you have that same mettle in you.”

Floris preened, leaning into Helaena’s side to watch the magical weaving of the yarn. Abby’s heart ached with fondness for the girl, pleased that she had been taken on as Helaena’s ward. The girl was not meant to be stuck behind her three eldest sisters. The Smallest Storm would blossom, she hoped, beneath Helaena’s care and attention. It did not go past Abby’s notice of Cassandra’s harsh attentions to her sister. It reminded her of her own sister’s lack of understanding; always critical, always focused on some perception that her behavior would reflect poorly upon her. Floris was exuberant and curious, but she was not into reckless mischief or excessive rudeness.

She’d be good for Helaena. More importantly, had been good for Helaena, who had taken on Margaery Crane as one of her new ladies, and Abby would take Desmara. The Crane twins had endeared themselves quickly, Margaery introducing herself by way of teaching Helaena a new fiber art, and Desmara had gifted Abby a book on Asshai, a knowing wink in her verdant green eyes.

As the carriage pulled into the camp, cheers had already started from the other gathered lords and ladies. “With all that noise, they’re sure to scare away all their quarry,” Abby laughed, peering out the window to look on ahead.

The boys had ridden on horseback, Aegon in the lead on Kostōba, Aemond, Daeron, and Jace on their own horses beside him, with their own small retinue. Their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, was with them, as were a few other lordlings that Abby was unfamiliar with. She spied Alyn Hull’s silver braids from where he was on his own horse, smiling at the sight of the brash young man there within Aegon’s retinue. He had been a true friend to the prince over the years and it was good to see him brought into the fold officially.

Alyn would serve as steward when they departed for Harrenhal, taking on the household duties from Uncle Simon and learning under him. Aegon had been pleased that he’d agreed to the offer, brushing off his mother’s gape mouthed indignation about it. “He’s the reason I still live, Mother,” Aegon had said, unusually mild in the face of Alicent Hightower’s anger that morning as they broke their fast. He’d brushed a kiss against her forehead, and Abby wondered if he had found strength in the security they were building between them, that not even his mother could shake.

Seeing Aegon’s confidence was intoxicating, so rarely did he come off so sure of himself, and she craved to see more of it. Her teeth scraped her lower lip, belly rolling with heat.

“Good tidings to Prince Aegon, second of his name!” came the booming voice of his Uncle Hobart, leading the call of cheers. “Good tidings to him on his nameday!”

“Good tidings!” came the call of the gathered crowd. “Prince Aegon!”

As Abby settled back in her seat to wait for the footmen, she caught Helaena’s gaze. Anxiety crackled between them, mixed with the joy and love there for Aegon’s nameday. After the hunt, Abby was certain Helaena would cocoon in her chambers, barring the door should anyone try to get her into another crowd. Abby didn’t blame her, and in fact, might even join her for a bit.

The cheers had begun to die down by the time Daeron’s smiling face helped them out of the carriage. Windswept, dark blonde hair fell across his forehead as he bowed. “Allow me, my sister, ladies.”

As he helped Floris from the carriage, their eyes met, both faces going pink at the cheeks, and Abby saw her future good-brother’s hand tighten slightly around the girl’s fingers for the briefest of moments before her feet met the ground and she pulled away, her eyes on her shoes. It was not often that Floris fell quiet and blushed so red, and it did not appear that anyone else had noticed. Daeron clenched his hands to himself and his eyes met hers, his own flush deepening before he quickly hurried away.

The king had stayed behind in the Keep, as did several lords and their families. Lord Grover’s health had also kept him behind. Lord Otto had stayed to facilitate court, leaving the festivities that day in Aegon and the queen’s hands.

Her hands, Abby knew, as young ladies of the noble houses began to approach her and the princess, a few mothers in tow.

“Baela’s a Targaryen too,” Helaena muttered. “Why can’t they flock to her?”

The lady in question had rode on horseback, her red leather jerkin fitted against her lithe form over a gray tunic and black breeches tucked into black polished boots. The rings in her hair glinted in the late morning sun, sparkling as she turned her head with a laugh and dismounted her mare by Jace. Abby shook her head.

“Because they’re afraid she’ll be a bad influence, I’m sure. How are they supposed to get husbands if they dress comfortably?” Abby posited, smoothing her hands over her riding jacket. It was a warm evergreen color, deep azure and crimson soutache snaking over her shoulders like the red and blue forks of the riverlands. The crimson lined wool jacket fell just past her knees, and she wore a pair of warm trousers tucked into polished black boots. Helaena was dressed similarly, her jacket the same shade of deep azure as Abby’s decoration, embroidered with silver dragons with black beaded buttons carved in the shape of dragon head clasps running down the front.

“Hasn’t Mother decided that you should remain here to entertain all those ladies?” Helaena asked, their arms linked as they headed to the main tent. Ahead of them, Alicent Hightower was resplendent in a warm cloak of the deepest verdant green lined in black fur, her gown not one for riding or hunting, but far more comfortable for the outdoors. It lacked excessive ornamentation, the black and green skirts swirling around the tops of her own boots. Her hair was much like Helaena’s, wound in a braided crown about her head. Lady Fossoway was a half step behind her with Ser Criston as they always were, with the rest of the ladies trailing after like a gaggle of geese.

“We’re doing the receiving line,” Abby said, the fingers of her free hand fidgeting against the fall of her jacket. “Aegon’s receiving his gifts and then we’ll have congratulations on the betrothal.” She flexed her fingers, the soft leather of her gloves creaking slightly with the movement. They were lined with soft fur, luxurious, indulgent, and while she was certainly never dressed in rags before, it was rare to accept and let herself have new things when they often felt so unnecessary.

It was a new feeling to be excited about the new clothes that she had, more sumptuous than what would normally be allowed at her station.

Wylla joined them as they passed into the pavilion, warm from the braziers placed strategically about the place, each guarded by a cage of decorative wrought iron to prevent unfortunate accidents. On one end of the great tent, a small dias with a simple, dark wood throne, crested with a dragon, wings spread in welcome.

It was the King’s chair, but the king was not here.

“Are we to accompany you while you receive them?” Wylla asked. Her long hair was bound tightly back and wrapped in a coiling knot along the back of her head. Her padded black jerkin clung to her over a long tunic of gray, black riding trousers tucked into a pair of matching boots. Like Baela, she was dressed for a day in the wilderness without the cumbersome dealing with skirts.

“You look nice,” Abby told her with a small smile. “Not quite the Wildling I heard rumor of,” she teased and Wylla snorted.

“It’s a hunt and the opportunity to ride and get the fresh air. We’ll be going hawking while the men go to shove their pricky things into…” She trailed off with a twist of her mouth, the small scar along her top lip pulling at it. “Men waving around their big pointy things.”

“In a far more acceptable manner than what it implies,” Abby added on, giggling at the silly implications of it all. “And yes, I think you should. We’re receiving gifts, so you best take Desmara and Lythene with you to Lady Fossoway for instruction.”

“And then we’ll go hawking,” Wylla said with a nod.

“I have to stay here,” Abby corrected with a shake of her head. “It is my duty to entertain with her Grace.”

The northerner’s brow furrowed and both of them looked in the direction of the queen, her cloak handed off to a servant while she spoke with Lady Johanna. Wylla shifted beside her and Abby could feel the questions and arguments flitting beneath her friend’s skin. She rested a gloved hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “As I told Aegon, these are some of our new duties, no matter how dull they seem to be. Hopefully there’ll be time for me to go exploring later.” Hopefully. Abby loved exploring the Kingswood, and she’d been looking forward to going hawking, even if she did not particularly hawk herself. However, fun and indulgence could not be had in favor of duty and responsibility.

No matter how much she craved the freedom of it.

Wylla gave her a long look, teeth biting at her lip before she nodded and getured for Lythene and Desmara to follow her. Helaena had already left with Margaery and Floris and Abby was left standing alone, for the moment, amidst the steady flow of nobility pouring in for refreshment and talk. Alone, Abby was relatively unnoticed. Just a small girl in the midst of a crowd, no crown on her head to shout out who she was.

“Abrogail.”

Larys was taller than most people realized, for he did everything he could to make himself small. Few knew that Larys was as tall as Harwin had been, for her elder brother preferred to have such a small cane, to shrink himself into spaces where he could slip in. It was strange, Abby realized, that she had never noticed that it was a trait she shared with him. No desire to be the center of attention, no desire to be noticed, both for their own reasons.

The smile he gave her was an awkward twitch, but Abby noticed that it did reach his eyes, which was a rare thing, and she found herself returning it. Small and shy, perhaps, as if she were still the somewhat muddy little girl she’d been who he’d look at curiously across the breakfast table in the family solar.

He was subdued in a quilted doublet of the same deep azure and brown leather, his cloak a dark green-blue to match, clasped at the shoulder with a firefly broach. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow of his free arm, languidly walking toward a clutch of plump seating not far from the currently empty dais. The smell of cooking food caught on the woodsmoke in the air, and Abby’s stomach rumbled with hunger. They’d only had some fresh bread and cheese on the ride over, and the idea of warm, spiced pumpkin soup and a turkey leg the size of her own face was rather appealing.

“You’ve conducted yourself quite admirably under all the attention as of late, little sister,” Larys complimented, taking a seat on one of the padded benches. She perched beside him, smiling her thanks at the servant who came by with mugs of hot, mulled wine. She inhaled the scent of orange and lemon, the warmth of cinnamon before taking a sip. “Even with your, shall I say, antics at the tourney, they were quite well received.”

“Antics?” she asked lightly, feeling the curl of heat spread across her chest. There was no way for Larys to know what sort of other antics they’d gotten up to. The bite Aegon had left along her shoulder had turned bruised and tender, the imprint of his teeth still deep in her soft flesh. That mark was quite well hidden beneath her jacket and shirt beneath.

Larys only hummed and took a sip of his drink. “The other lords have expressed concern at my choice of husband for you, but I have assured them there is no reason to fret. I simply wanted my sister to be cared for and happy.” He gave her a sidelong look, placid expression barely shifting, his dark eyes large and innocent in his expression. “And everyone can clearly see how happy you two make one another. The queen…” he trailed off with a sigh, “has not quite been pleased but…”

Abby looked down at the deep purple-red wine swirling in the silver goblet. Anxiety prickled through her, confusion at her brother’s attempt, it seemed, to try to bond with her on something more personal. “Her Grace has been very indulgent,” she said softly, mouth twitching into an awkward smile that her brother returned. He inclined his head towards her only just.

“We both understand how passionate the queen’s frustrations can run, little sister,” he said softly, the scent of him cold and clean, like a tomb. Abby blinked, the awkward smile falling from her face. Her throat bobbed, the sting of bile in the back of her throat was almost painful. Had the queen told him what had occurred? Or had Larys, with his strange talents, found out what happened himself. “You will not be her ward for much longer. I imagine, like any mother, she is feeling the maternal ache over the loss of her son to his wife, and the loss of you, who is like a daughter to her.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, busying herself with another sip of wine so she might find the words. They were receiving glances from the bustling court as they found their places, platters and great soup tureens being set out along the tables. Her stomach growled again. “She was quite concerned about… the dishonor I would bring upon the royal family.” Her voice was little more than a shamed whisper and the insinuation was as painful as the day she’d been accused when coupled with Ser Edmund’s harsh words in the gardens. She straightened her shoulders, trying to push past the hurt and shame that lingered still, tilting her chin up, refusing to be cowed. “Apparently some of the other lords are quite concerned about your heir marrying into House Targaryen.” She smiled at the passing servant, plucking a small apple tart off the platter he held. “I have made my own assurances that our children will be raised in the customs of our people, that regardless of dragon blood, we are the Riverlands.” Whether or not Edmund Vance believed her, if he mocked her to those he could find for such statements, well, she could do nothing about that. She could only mind herself.

“It will be a hard road, Abrogail, given that they do not see you as one of them. Lo, they barely see me as one of them, what with all my work here,” Larys said with a nod, looking at the cake he’d plucked for himself. “What matters is that you greatly impressed Lord Tully, and his son has been amenable and welcoming-”

“I may not have grown up in the Riverlands but even I know there’s only so much influence they have,” Abby cut in, chewing her lip after the words tumbled from her, her voice a soft, biting thing. Larys said nothing to that while he chewed on a bite of cake, and she shifted slightly in her seat and took another sip of wine. “It will not be a smooth transition, not for all. A prince? Becoming vassal to a mere lord?”

“Prince Daemon was Lord of Runestone through the dear, late Lady Rhea,” he reminded her after swallowing. “I don’t recall any such problems between him and the Lady Arryn.”

“Jeyne Arryn was kin to his goodsister,” she retorted. She had spent countless hours in the library with Aemond, taking meticulous notes of the lessons the boys had that her and Helaena did not. Part of that involved wiling away a week of stormy, frigid weather, tracing out the family trees of the Great Houses. The Targaryens rarely married out, even before King Jaehaerys, but there had been Aemon and Daella to houses Baratheon and Arryn, and Queen Aemma’s siblings and half-siblings. She’d even traced her own tree: Harwin’s mother, Lysa, had been Lord Elmo’s sister. Larys and Corynna’s mother had been a Frey. Abby’s mother had been a Westerlander, already outside, already suspicious of the clannish houses of her homeland. “And if all the mutterings and murmurings are true, he cared as little and less for them as they did for him.”

She’d heard the rumors of Daemon being responsible for his first wife’s death, and the occasional muttering that he was responsible for Laena Velaryon as well, but in the past few days being with the mercurial Baela, she did not think that was the case. Abby looked back at her brother again, briefly, before smiling in greeting as Lady Redwyne and her sister settled nearby. The queen had sat on the opposite end of the circle of seating, the corral of it split evenly between the pair of them. Her shoulders slumped minutely and she kept her genial smile as the older women settled in.

Laughter caught her attention, Helaena and Baela both with shaking shoulders near the pavilion entrance as other girls joined them. They would be going hawking soon. The sun caught upon Helaena and Baela’s silver heads, giving them a golden shine. A sigh caught in her throat. How nice it would be to join them, to frolic in the lack of responsibility.

Larys shifted, still sitting at her right hand as the rest of the guests filtered in, and her attention drew back to him. “Ah, yes, the princesses and the other ladies are going hawking. Did your grandfather not gift you a new hawk for your engagement?”

Lord Rodrik had indeed. Abby had hawked some when she was a little girl at one of the hunts for Princess Rhaenyra’s nameday, but had never had a one of her own. But Lord Rodrik and her Reyne family were prodigious hawkers and the beautiful Peregrine she’d named Caelus was a little wonder. He’d been trained by her cousin, Emrik, who had fancied himself a falconer, and had sent a kind letter that she was quick to return. Letters had been rare over the years, but there’d always been well wishes and tidings on her nameday.

“He did, and I know we brought him. The queen…” Abby trailed off, her eyes darting to the other side of the tent where Queen Alicent was smiling at the younger Lady Redwyne. “She said that it was our duty to host while Aegon goes hunting. That it’s my duty. To make friends, to comport myself as the future princess.”

“Oh, did she?” Larys asked mildly, cocking his head to the side and leaning on his cane. “Yes, I can see what she would want that. It was, after all, what has been expected of her when she was your age, already with two children. She had far more in common with the matrons of the court at that point. You are here when others who should be are not.”

Rhaenyra should be here. She was the King’s eldest, his heir. Discomfort prickled along Abby’s spine, a latent spike of anger at the woman who had put her family in danger, hurt at how quickly Rhaenyra had moved to Daemon Targaryen after what happened to Harwin. Her fingers curled against her knees before she forced them to relax and stretch. The Crown Princess had always been kind to her, but could Abby even trust that? After what happened at Driftmark, and what happened to her family?

Alone now, save for Larys.

‘Not alone anymore’, she immediately reminded herself, because Aegon was with her now; Helaena and Aemond cared for her too. They too were her family. Not alone, for she had her grandfather and he loved her truly. Yet, she had felt this loneliness for so long. Rhaenyra was not responsible for her loneliness, but in many ways she felt it keenly. It felt as if everything changed because of her.

This marriage, Alicent’s desire for control, Lord Otto’s keen and watchful eye were because of Rhaenyra. Aegon’s pain was because of Rhaenyra.

Her father and brother were dead and gone because of Rhaenyra.

“I am here when others are not,” she said softly, eyes watching those who watched her, her smile flashing as she murmured her greetings as the ladies began to gossip. Larys was murmuring his own greetings to Lord Piper’s wife, complimenting her on the recent betrothal for her son. Abby’s gaze darted towards the front of the tent, where the girls were still gathered as they prepared to go off for their own little adventures.

Alicent Hightower made sure she was there. She made sure that people saw her as queen, someone to be trusted and counted on, someone that could be reached. She was here, as Abby was here.

“If the Targaryens mean to exercise power in our realm, they will be in for a rude awakening.”

Abby was not queen. She wasn’t certain what that future held, but she did know, with certainty, that she was the future Lady of Harrenhal, and that Lythene Ryger, Melony Piper, even Sarra Frey who was lingering nervously with a goblet in hand, they too would be future ladies of houses that she needed to be friends with. Abby could not just rely on the fact that she held the title, not when she did not grow up in her home, not when people like Edmund Vance were so eager to tell her that it didn’t matter, they would see what they wished.

“Lady Sarra,” Abby called, rising with a smile and handing over her goblet. She could feel Alicent’s eyes on her, and that over the other ladies. “I did not have the opportunity to speak with you at the feast last night. Pray, will you join me and the others out hawking?”

Sarra Frey was a tall girl, broad shouldered with high cheekbones and dark hair bound in a twist of three braids down her back. She wore a simple but lovely jacket of deep blue and silver, the colors of her house. At being addressed, she straightened up, green eyes wide with surprise at being noticed. They narrowed slightly, mouth parting before closing. A flush crept across her cheeks.

“I don’t have a hawk with me, Lady Abrogail,” she said softly. At her full height, she was as tall as Aemond, more softly spoken than her severe expression might have said. Abby smiled.

“That is quite fine, there are plenty to go around.” Sarra nodded, handing off her goblet to one of the passing servants and Abby looped her arms through hers and tugged her towards the others. “My legs are exhausted from that carriage ride, shall we go?”

Even Baela’s mask of judgment faded as they walked towards the edge of camp where the Master of the Mews was minding the hawks and preparing to move out further from camp. She was stuck between Helaena and Wylla, the princess’ silver head shining beneath the sun. Lythene was laughing with the Crane twins and even Sarra was pulled into conversation with Zara Celitgar, who was eyeing the tall Frey girl appreciatively.

“Are we not taking a carriage?” Margaery Crane asked as Helaena led the way past the line of them set aside for their later return.

“It is not a far walk,” Abby assured her. “And it’s nice to stretch our legs after all that sitting.” She nodded towards the Master of the Mews and his apprentices carting the hawks ahead of them. Margaery hummed in agreement, confusion placated, and Abby was set to continue onto another subject when there was a commotion from behind them. She looked over her shoulder to see Cassandra Baratheon striding behind them.

“You all left so quickly!” she announced, censure and jovial all rolled into her crisp tone. A slight smirk crossed her sharp features as they approached. Among the three ladies that accompanied her, Lady Elinor kept close at her side. Cassandra’s dark eyes swept over Abby as they drew closer, and she felt picked apart by the gaze, something sharp stabbing between her ribs at the continued haughtiness of the eldest Storm. Abby straightened, offering her own wan smile. Like hell would Cassandra set foot into Harrenhal, but this?

This she needed to be easy with; this she could allow.

“Of course, Lady Cassandra,” she said. “We would be happy to have you.” Helaena made a soft sound that Abby ignored but felt deeply. Her eyes flitted to Lady Elinor at Cassandra’s shoulder, giving her a warmer look. It was her family’s strawberry wine that had been highly spoken about over the course of the festivities, and Elinor’s responding smile was kinder.

“Congratulations are in order, Lady Abrogail,” Lady Elinor murmured. Cassandra’s eyes tightened, her smile frozen on her face.

“Yes, congratulations on your coming nuptials,” she parroted, smoothing her kidskin gloves over the fall of her woolen hunting jacket. “How comforting it must be to wed one’s childhood playmate. No surprises or excitement to worry about.”

The words were harmless enough, but the barb beneath them was clear. Abby tilted her head slightly, her own smile still on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was Baela who spoke, angling her head between Wylla and Helaena to peer at her cousin.

“Not to mention wedding a childhood playmate means there’s no barrier to intimacy, and no secrets kept,” she said, then bit into the apple she had in hand. “Now let’s fucking move before I start hunting with my bare hands.”

Helaena was meant to be in bed but sleep eluded her. She waved away the maids and headed out into the night toward the great bonfire in the center of camp. There was no danger here, much like there was no need to fear in the Holdfast. Her slippers grew wet after only moments, the night dew soaking into the soft fabric and chilling her toes.

She wanted to dance around the fire, stare into the flames like she heard the Red Priestesses did, and wonder to herself if her dreams would make more sense then. Aemond said she was touched as Daenys was, a gift precious to their Targaryen line. It helped ease the fearful strangeness to know that her strange dreams were not simply the ‘odd workings of an overactive imagination.’ That they did mean something, but what? Helaena was never certain. Sometimes she never knew the outcome, other times they became starkly clear.

‘He’ll have to lose an eye’.

“Would you care for some company?” came a low, curious voice, a slight crack on the last word. She looked over to see Jace lingering at the edge of the firelight, his jerkin long discarded with just his gray linen shirt and trousers, a dark blue cape wrapped around him. The bright flames danced in his lavender eyes, giving them a shade of deep purple-red she found curious indeed. Did her own look the same?

“You’re not gallivanting with the boys?” Helaena asked, not meaning anything by it until the words hung in the air, and Jace’s gaze glanced to what he held in his hands. The only ‘boys’ for him to gallivant with were her brothers. Of course there were other lordlings about, but given that Jace was lingering around the bonfire caused her to wonder if he too liked the quiet.

Or if he were lonely.

“I didn’t want to…” Jace trailed off, rubbing his thumb over whatever he held in his hand. The motion of it reminded her so strongly of Abby, Helaena didn’t know how she was supposed to process it. The curl of unease and her mother’s frustration and anger coated her insides. Her own frustrations, deeply buried but still there, like the ever smoking fires of the Dragonmont, bubbled and burbled in response. The king who loved Jace more, loved him like he loved Rhaenyra more. The blind man who ignored Aemond’s nameday even though it had just happened, who only thought of Aegon’s day because of everything that happened.

The dead look in Mother’s eyes that was more and more frequent, when she stared out the window of her solar, her hands twisted and knotted into her skirts. The things that Sire-Father had done to her for no reason except his own dragon feelings, Helaena thought. His need for more and more, consuming him the way the anger would consume Aemond, and the drink would consume Aegon.

All of them pinned to boards in the king’s Freehold miniature; all of them frozen and set on display in his own gallery, for him to take down from time to time to play with.

The burst of a log in the fire startled her and Helaena realized, uncomfortably, that she’d been staring, vacantly, at Jacaerys, who was watching her, still as water, quiet as an orb weaver. He watched her, the fire throwing orange and red across his fine features, catching at the warm red in his dark, dark hair. His right eye was a sheen of red from the fire, his left cast in shadow. Half fire.

Her right side was chilled, when her left was so warm, mirrors of each other.

Half fire.

Jace held out his hand, palm open, offering to her the smooth stone that he had been fiddling with. The ridges of the sea creature who died in it caught upon the light, throwing its own little shadow as it was unable to in life, living in the sea as it did. Only now, in his hand, had this creature found warmth and light.

Helaena reached for it, her hot fingers scraping against his as she took it, feeling his own hot skin beneath her touch.

Half fire.

‘But I am full flame,’’ Heleane thought, for she was dragonflame and lighthouse flame. Lighting the way with fire in her wake. Jace was fire, yes, but he was river water, the way it rippled through him. Still and steady, but crashing and flooding with the ferocity of a dragon’s power. ‘Would this be what her nieces and nephews be?’ Is this what a union of fire and water entailed? Deadly and quiet, steady when they were full of heat and flame.

She rubbed her thumb over the fossilized creature and it felt pleasant against her skin. Soothing, tactile. Grounding. “Thank you,” she said softly and Jace smiled at her. “Pity it’s not another marchpane tentacle.” He laughed, a soft sound that sounded like water over stones and they came to sit on the bench. She shoved her feet closer to the flame and watched the steam rise from the fabric from how hot it was. There was a few inches between them, the warmth emanating, and they sat together, no words spoken. These were her favorite moments, ones she missed. It scraped at her insides, like pushing dirt away from the stone so she could find the worms beneath. They were the memories of the gardens in childhood, Jace beside her, mud and damp soaked into his knees, helping her push the rock up to find the pill bugs and the beetles and the centipedes in the dark, damp earth.

“It was nice to dance with you at the feast,” he ventured, and Helaena looked at him, the shadow along his jaw where he’d wake up fuzzy and prickly in the morning. She reached up to rub the back of her fingers against his jaw, looking at the slight pout of his mouth, the dark fan of his eyelashes. Freckles faint against his skin.

“You're a good dancer. I should know, I’m a good dancer myself.” She smiled at him and he shook his head, a flush on his face and she felt her own spread across her cheeks. He scraped the toe of his boot in the dirt and she nudged her foot against his. He was familiar, in the way Aemond was, but he was new in the way Warren had been. Someone she knew, but didn’t. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t pushing and probing at her, looking for a bruise to elicit feelings from, or the thrill of a princess. He didn’t look at her like she was odd, or startle at her staring, her distant sight.

Jace was simply patient, and he waited, and did not seek to chatter. It was new, it was old, it was like pressing against the ground and the dirt giving way, a little tunnel inside that one didn’t know was there, and Jace peered in and made his way inside. A dragon roosting in a cave.

His knee bumped against hers and she looked at him, their matching lavender eyes meeting. It was nice, Helaena thought, that they had this piece to share. Like two different butterflies, different colors and different patterns, but the markings were the same. The wings were the same. Simply… different.

“The mint winds and chokes like ivy,” she said, instead of what she meant to say, which was asking him if he would come looking for stag beetles with her the next day. “The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.” She blinked, startled, but the words that she had not known, had not meant to utter, remained heavy between them. “I-.”

He blinked back at her, brow furrowed. “Helaena, are you-”

A horrible scream ripped through camp and for the briefest moment, Helaena thought it might have been a fox shriek. But this was too loud, too close. Another scream, this time two high pitched ones and then a guttural yell. Jace’s hand gripped hers, pulling her to her feet and away from the fire. She tugged at his hold to move towards the commotion, but he tugged her back. “I’m taking you back to your tent, Helaena,” he said firmly. “We don’t know what’s- Ow!”

She had lifted their hands, sinking her teeth into the plump flesh at the back of his thumb so he’d let go and hurried towards the tents without a second glance, knowing that he’d be following her. She gripped her skirts, grateful for the warmth of Jace’s cloak around her shoulders and her heart sank, panic seizing her chest when she realized it was Abrogail’s tent that was the source of the screaming.

Three of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston, were already there, as were the gold cloaks that had been patrolling around the outskirts of camp. Their cloaks reminded her of Sunfyre’s scales in all the torchlight, and half-dressed nobility coming out of their tents, bleary eyed in confusion.

On the ground lay a servant with a blade in his chest, blood burbling from his mouth. Helaena looked at him, wide-eyed, Jace trying to get her to look away, and her gaze went up to Wylla Karstark. The northerner was shaking, gray eyes wide as dinner plates, her hair bound for bed, her dressing gown haphazard and sprayed with blood from where the man must have coughed it at her.

“He-he came in. He was on Abby so quickly-”

“I don’t know where he came from!” Abby’s trembling frame was right behind her, clutching one of the pokers from the tent brazier in her hands, still ready to strike. Her curls were twisted and wrapped around the crown of her head, shivering in the night air in just her own nightgown, sleep mussed and clearly straight from bed. “I don’t…” She gulped. “I don’t think he meant Wylla to b-be there.” Her free hand was gripping the back of Wylla’s dressing gown, and Ser Criston laid a hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“Give me the poker, Lady Abrogail,” he was saying in a calm, steady voice like he did when Helaena was younger, cowering in a corner and unable to flee the commotion. “There’s a girl.”

Harrion Karstark was shouting his sister’s name, just as Uncle Gwayne was calling hers. Helaena turned her head to see him coming up, half dressed with his sword belt slung over his shoulder. He reached for her shoulder, tugging her back. “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, and Helaena stumbled back into Jace as the crowd parted.

Then, Aegon’s shout of, “Abby!” came crashing over the gathering crowd, pushing his way through with Aemond at his back. She caught her younger brother’s frantic look, seeing the worry ease somewhat at the sight of her before going over to the girls. Abby surrendered the brazier poker as Aegon reached her, frantic over the state of her, pulling his cloak off to wrap around her, fear and fury warring on his flushed features. “What happened?”

The man on the ground was rasping, wheezing, but it was hard to tell if he was alive or not, or if this was how his body signaled death.

“This man came to attack Lady Abrogail, Your Grace,” Ser Erryk said. “Lady Wylla got him good.” His twin nudged the attacker with the tip of his boot as Aemond looked at the man, then at Wylla. His face was carved in hard lines, but his gaze was softened.

“Did you throw it?” he asked. “Or did you pounce on him?”

Wylla blinked, her brother’s broad hands holding her shoulders. “I stabbed him.” Her voice was faint and she took the blade handle, clutching it to her. “He… I was putting away our dresses and there was a commotion… I thought…” Wylla’s brow furrowed, shaking her head. “He came in through the flap beside the bed and crawled o-on top of her. Abby screamed and I just…”

Harrion’s hands tightened on his sister’s shoulders and the girl fell silent with a soft squeak. Aemond’s mouth pursed and he knelt beside the man. His hair fell in a curtain, the band of his eye-patch not holding it back from the vantage that Helaena had. He reached down, and twisted the blade, a wet crack sounding in the sudden hushed anticipation. The wheezing sounds the man was making tapered off as Aemond pulled the blade from his body.

It squelched, a gout of blood spraying, and a strange, hissing sound like wind through a crack sounded. Aemond jerked back as some of the blood caught on the ends of his hair and he rose slowly, wiping the blade of the dagger. “Well he’s dead now, Lady Wylla. Your bravery and quick thinking is to be commended. House Karstark should be proud to have such a brave daughter.” He handed her the dagger, hilt towards her. “Keep this close, since you can be well trusted to use it.”

Wylla’s brother held her tightly as the gold cloaks hoisted the dead man between the pair of them, dragging him somewhere.

“I was half asleep,” Abby said. Aegon clutched her to his chest as his gaze swept darkly around, hands rubbing her arms. “At first I th-thought it was Wylla…” Helaena watched Abby’s hand clutch Aegon’s arm tighter, her voice falling silent. Her other hand reached towards Wylla again, the girls clinging tightly to one another.

“How the fuck did that bastard manage to sneak into my lady’s tent?” Aegon demanded, his voice not a shout like Uncle Gwayne’s had been, but more of a warning growl, like Sunfyre. “Where were the patrols, Ser Criston?”

Their mother’s protector - and Helaena realized that Mother was not there and that Ser Criston must have commanded her to stay in her own tent - shifted only slightly. “The patrols largely keep around the outside of camp to keep people from getting in, my Prince. The patrol that was walking through the tents had not made it back around yet.”

Aegon’s jaw ticked, assessing what Ser Criston had said and knowing it to be true. Helaena knew that Aegon and the others had been lingering in Aegon and Aemond’s tent for whatever gossip and giggling boys got up to in the middle of the night.

“Lady Abrogail and Lady Wylla will share my tent,” Helaena broke in, for she was the princess, and her mother was not here. “And we will have extra guards stationed around our tents, so that our Kingsguard are not stretched thin.” She straightened her shoulders and closed the distance between her and the girls. “This is enough horrible commotion for this night, and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for staring so,” she said, frowning at the crowd that had gathered. “These ladies have been terrorized, and you gawk at them. To bed, everyone! Let us gather your things and get you cleaned up.” The last was said to Wylla, who needed a fresh gown and the blood cleaned from her face.

And like the princess she was, she did not wait to be obeyed, reaching for Abby’s hand to pull her toward her tent.

Thank you for being here! If you loved this chapter, please give a reblog and I would adore hearing what you thought about the chapter! What did you think about the Larys and Abby convo? Baela Targaryen continues to be a force to be reckoned with. I for one love the ladies that Helaena and Abby have been gathering around them. Man what was UP with that attack at the end? And also, Jace clearly doesn't mind Helaena biting him. Good.

#hotd fic #hotd oc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fandom #house targaryen fanfic #jacelaena #my fics #oc: abrogail strong #otp: do not go far from me #aegon x abby #abrogon

[icysinner]

hometown hero — chapter three. | plans.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: onyankopon finally lives that dream of playing professional basketball, but through the glitz and glamour, he’s still in love with the girl from his hometown.

𝐍𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: long time coming.. y’all still love me tho right?

tags: @kiwistrawberryx @multi-teez @trpnese @bubbabobabubbles @maliagurl @iheartamora @hayilaawashere @hoohoohope

𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ᥫ᭡ 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 ᥫ᭡ 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀

basketball was never your favorite thing, but onyankopon was by far one of your favorite people. so, if sitting and watching a sport you didn’t understand was what it took to make your friend smile, you’d be more than willing to do it. you’d never been to a real nba game before. sure, you’ve watched ony play a million times throughout the high school basketball seasons, but this time, it felt more real. more serious. you racked your brain a million times over about what you were gonna wear, it wasn’t like you were in the regular crowd, just there to enjoy the show.

“i was tryna give rihanna courtside baddie, you know what i mean?” you said, walking next to tylae and violet as you three went into the vip entrance of the arena. “you look like a basketball wife.” violet said, sharing a look with tylae before they both looked at you. “don’t start that shit.” you said, trying to be as stern as possible but you were still laughing at their comments. “you kinda are a basketball wife, whether you wanna accept it or not.”

“all three of us were invited, this is a group event.” you said, making a motion to the three of you. “well, for one, you’re invited because ony has been trying to pull you since we were fifteen and violet wants to fuck his basketball manager. i’m here as collateral and to drive you all home.” tylae said with an eye roll as the three of you made your way to your seats. they were exactly what you saw on social media, big bright lights beading down onto the court, your seats damn near participating in the game themselves.

you were sitting next to violet, feeling your heartbeat quicken as people started to fill into the arena and before you knew it the game started. your conversation with tylae was cut short as onyankopon caught your eye. it was extremely hard to both deny violet & tylae’s claims that you and ony were into each other and also be into him at the same time. onyankopon was always attractive, but he was much more attractive right now.

he was so focused, he barely even noticed you were there. his mind and body were both completely immersed in the game, and you were enjoying every second of it. violet was watching the game before she turned to look at you, watching your eyes follow onyankopon intently. “for someone who doesn’t understand basketball, you’re very interested.” she said, a smirk on her face as she nudged your arm. “shut up.” you retorted, not taking your eyes off of ony as you smiled.

ϟ

“go, i gotta talk to someone before we leave.” onyankopon said to his teammates as he made his way to the court, where you and the girls were on your way out of the arena. “i know you not leaving me yet.” onyankopon said as he walked up behind you, nearly scaring you out of your shoes. “i thought you left.” opening your arms for a hug that ony accepted immediately. the hug lasted a little longer than your usual hugs, even rocking back and forth as you did it. ony made eye contact with both violet and tylae, who were making childish faces and giving him thumbs up.

“you did good out there, proud of you.” you complimented with a smile, his arm still slung around your shoulder. “thank you, ma. i was puttin’ it on a little extra since you were watching.” ony said, half (maybe one third) joking. “i appreciated the show, was very lucrative and educational.” you joked, looking back at the entrance he came out of and then back up at him, “aren’t you supposed to be with your team? you know i’m not gonna go anywhere, you have plenty of time to talk to me later.” you said, a small frown on your face.

“nah, you good. i told ‘em i had some other plans.” he replied, you giving him a confused expression in return. “plans?” you asked, a quick wave of jealousy coming over you before he went to speak again. “you’re the plans, before you get mad at me.” you were more surprised that he saw right through you than anything, he clocked your feelings before you had the time to think about them yourself.

“how do you make plans with me without telling me?” you asked, pretending to be irritated, knowing you were excited. “i was leaving with violet & ty,” both of their heads perked up from their phones, they shared a look before one of them spoke. “y’all are fine! don’t worry about us, y/n. enjoy your night.” violet said, sending you a smile, feigning her innocence. “thank you, violet. i’ll see y’all later, then.” rolling your eyes at the both of them, but the smile and thank you were genuine. “don’t have too much fun, now.” tylae said, giving ony a thumbs up that could only mean ‘good going, bro’.

#aot #nya writes #aot x black reader #attack on titan #aot x reader #black writblr #aot fanfiction #onyankopon fanfic #onyankopon fluff #snk onyankopon #hometown hero #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon snk #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon series #onyankopon x black reader #aot x poc!reader #aot x black y/n #aot series

[zukkabigbang2024]

❁ZUKKA BIG BANG 2024❀

💙Schedule:

-Sign ups: Feb 6- Feb 25

-Writers Submit Ideas/ Summaries: Feb 26- Mar 3

-Claiming Day: Mar 5

-Check-in #1: Sat Apr 6

-Check-in #2: Sat May 4

-Check-in #3: Sat Jun 1

-Final Drafts due: Sat Jun 29

-Posting Period (subject to change): Aug 1- 14

❤️Rules:

All works must be tagged correctly (nsfw, triggers, warnings, etc.)

No harmful content: no racism (including whitewashing), homophobia, transphobia, sexism, etc. This does not include works that apply these themes as issues in their worldbuilding, e.g. a work that has a character struggling with internalized homophobia but does not itself support it would be allowed. 

All NSFW content must be between adults only. No sexualization of minors or relationships between adults and minors will be allowed. No pedophilia or incest. 

You must be 18+ to submit/ work on a NSFW piece. 

Multi-chapter is allowed; the first chapter must be posted by your posting date. 

Minimum word count: 5,000 (but you are welcome to go over that if you would like).

All art must have an image description. 

Do your best to adhere to the schedule. Please communicate with your team and the mods if you are struggling or need any extensions!

#zukka #zukka big bang #zukka fanfic #zukka fanart #atla #atla events #zukka events

[aziraphales-library]

hello! i just recently read the rainbow road series and its absolutely amazing would definitely recommend it to anyone :) it's about crowley (AJ) and aziraphale (ezira) both being f1 drivers and it's been so fun to read so i'm wondering if you know other fics with these two involved in some sports as athletes or something??

thank you!!

Hi. We have a #sports tag. Here are more to add...

Holy Warrior by AlwaysDoe (M)

When a rookie introduces himself with a bang at AJ’s Boxing Gym, owner Crowley is reluctant to invest in him as the potential champion they so badly need. As it turns out, stepping into the ring isn’t nearly as terrifying as trying to fight your own feelings.

Big Wave by snae_b (E)

Aziraphale has been champing at the bit to ride the big waves off the coast of Nazaré. It’s a shame that when the opportunity finally arises, it means teaming up with his nemesis. And that in this tiny seaside town, there are only so many available hotel rooms...

To be Your Prince by Phoenix_Soar (T)

It was their shared dream to stand together on the Olympic podium, as figure skaters, rivals, best friends. But a twist of fate has Aziraphale and Crowley pursuing different paths, the former as a Singles skater and the other an Ice Dancer. It wouldn’t be so terrible, Aziraphale thinks, if he didn’t have to watch Crowley skate with someone else day after day. Someone that isn’t him, and to know he’ll never get to be with Crowley like that, in front of the whole world. (Figure skating AU)

Upon This Rock by Eowyn1846 (M)

Crowley and Aziraphale meet as teenagers participating in a youth curling league. Years after losing touch when Crowley's family moves away, the two former friends are reunited at a major tournament...as competitors on two very cut-throat teams, whose captains seem willing to win at any cost, even to the detriment of the sport.

Angels on High by Santillatron (M)

Aziraphale takes up a new sport. It's all going rather well until he inadvertently takes the top spot on the leader board and ends up accidentally starting a feud with the previous holder of the title. The man is arrogant, rude, and seems to think Aziraphale has somehow targeted him specifically. Not the kind of man Aziraphale wants to get to know at all, really.

Strike Three: You're in Love by AnnaTheHank (E)

The company baseball league was the last place Crowley wanted to be. But after meeting one of the opposing team's catchers, Aziraphale, he's a little more commited to the idea. A happy little low-stakes AU in which Crowley and Aziraphale awkwardly flirt at the plate and have some fun off the field.

And the first fic in the series you mentioned, which we have recommended before...

Sit Tight, Take Hold by nieded (E)

The summer of 2022, Ezira Phale is a rookie Formula 1 driver out to prove he's one of the best racecar drivers in the world, but everything gets turned upside down when he falls in love with his real-life idol, AJ Crowley. Or: The one where Crowley does not go too fast for Aziraphale. _____ This story uses a multi-media format with CSS and HTML. It's best read using the workskin so please make sure that you are enabling user workskins. If you do not want to use the workskin, I will also be posting a .pdf of each chapter and a final .pdf once everything is posted! I’m not so cool as to know how to do podcasts, manips, and videos, but this will feature scripts, news articles, text messages, tumblr, and race programming! So strap in and put your seatbelt on! This is going to be one fast ride of romance, competition, and over-indulgence.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #sports #adult omens #mod d

[etherealspacejelly]

Lay All Your Love On Me - Chapter 1

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Multi

Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series

Relationships:

James T. Kirk/Reader, Spock (Star Trek)/Reader, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Reader, James T. Kirk & Reader, Spock (Star Trek) & Reader, Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Reader, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock

Characters:

Spock (Star Trek), James T. Kirk, Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Reader, You

Additional Tags:

Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Leonard "Bones" McCoy Needs a Hug, Spock Needs a Hug (Star Trek), James T. Kirk Needs a Hug, They all get one, Touch-Starved, Reader-Insert, Beta Read by My Friend

Summary:

Your attempt to convince Bones to take better care of himself leads to the touch-starved triumvirate discovering that you are a very good hugger, and you are more than happy to provide them with the attention they so desperately need. Several cuddle sessions later, the three of them team up to return the favour.

There is no use of Y/N. Gender-neutral pronouns are used, and there is no physical description of you. Can be read as either romantic or platonic.

Is this another incredibly self-indulgent cuddle fic? Yes. Yes, it is.

Will be releasing a new chapter every day! (4 total)

#star trek #star trek tos #fanfic #fanfiction #star trek fanfiction #reader insert #kirk x reader #bones x reader #spock x reader

[f1ot3fest]

Prompts open October 15-21 | Fic due December 16 | Reveals December 17

Access the AO3 collection (sign-ups closed until October 15)

Calendar, rules and FAQ under the cut:

Rules:

1. Post prompts when sign-ups open to inspire yourself and others. Include OT3+ pairings, scenarios, vibes--whatever you like. Prompts can be general or specific. You can also include "do not wants"--pairings, characters or themes that you do not want your prompt to be filled with. Prompts should be anonymous.

2. Claim one or multiple prompts that you might like to fill.

3. Write your fic.

4. Post to the collection on or before the due date. All fic must be archive-locked and tagged appropriately.

FAQ:

Q: What does "OT3+" even mean? A: An "OT3" is any pairing with three characters (ex. Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg/Sebastian Vettel). "OT3+" means your pairing must contain at least three characters, but can contain as many as you want.

Q: How long does my fic have to be? A: Minimum 1500 words, but as long as you want.

Q: Can I submit multi-chapter fic? A: Yes! You can submit completed or incomplete multi-chapter fic on the posting deadline. You are welcome to continue posting chapters after the deadline.

Q: Is it okay if I post prompts but don't end up submitting fic? A: Yes! I invite everyone to submit fic inspired by prompts, but simply prompting your favourite OT3 is a welcome contribution.

Q: Can I claim more than one prompt? What if I don't end up writing anything for the prompt? A: You can claim multiple prompts. If you don't end up filling one or any, there are zero consequences. Prompts are for inspiration only, and no one should necessarily expect that their prompt will be filled.

Q: Can I claim my own prompt? A: Yes! You may prompt yourself or write "Prompt for [insert author name]" and claim it.

Q: Can I change aspects of the prompt? A: You can change subtle aspects and add your own elements, but please respect the prompter's desired pairings, characters and "do not wants". You are always welcome to prompt yourself.

Q: Can I include drivers from other racing series, WAGs, non-driver team personnel or friends of drivers? A: Yes! I only ask that all fic be archive-locked.

Q: Can I write about squicky themes? A: Yes! Please tag and use warnings appropriately. Use your best judgement.

Q: How do I post my work to the collection? A: Follow this guide. Your fic won't show up until the collection is "revealed" on the reveal date.

Q: I have more questions--where can I find answers? A: You can send a message or an ask to @sionisjaune or @f1ot3fest on Tumblr, or email [email protected]

#thank you for everybody’s interest… i already have an idea in mind but i’m so ready to be inspired by prompts #prompts are still 2 weeks away but i will post a reminder when they open! #ot3+ fest

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

a run down would be appreciated😭😭 and i sure hope coffee at midnight is a happy fic bc that one i did start reading and its my current obsession, i wont be able to take it if something bad happens to my babies

I won't spoil Coffee at Midnight, but I'm glad you're loving it!!

My other fics, though, I'm going to try and put into categories.

The Multichaps

A Fine Line will take you through every emotion. It's smutty and angsty and stressful but it has a happy ending!

illicit affairs is an ongoing multi-chap that's nowhere near finished. emily and aaron sleep together before her first day on the job, when neither knows who the other is. the affair they begin has consequences for years to come.

touchy subject is complete and is an emotional journey. a teenage emily aborted aaron's baby without telling him, and deals with the consequences of that decision in the decades that come after.

impact married Hotchniss are in a car accident that leaves emily in a coma.

the price we pay. I'll start by telling you that Emily's dead. that's not a spoiler, i literally tell you in the comments. this fic sees JJ try to come to terms with her death and her unresolved feelings for Emily at the same time.

Nodus Tollens is annoyingly incomplete. A complicated fic based on the Arizona-Callie-Mark triangle n Greys.

The One-Shots

The Five Stages of Grief are a Myth is a journey, but it does have a happy ending!

phantasmogoria - emily struggles with the trauma of having spent seven months in isolation, with only her own mind for company. hotch is her lifeline.

found family is a cute little fic i wrote for the 'accidental baby acquisition' tag for criminal minds week 2023. the team find a baby.

built a home and watched it burn may or may not stay an angsty one-shot. it's the first chapter of an unfinished fic i took down a while ago, in which emily and aaron are getting divorced.

Eulogy is an angsty af one-shot of JJ and Hotch telling Emily about the Paris plan.

You'll Always Be My Person is angsty Jemily fluff that I woudn't say has a happy ending, but it's sweet and short.

Habits is a cute little Jemily drabble.

in love with you is Emily POV Jemily angst.

twelve things that didn't break aaron hotchner and the one that almost did is Hotch angst with a happy Hotchniss ending.

The States Game is a cutie team fic based on That Friends Episode.

The Smutty One-Shots

Heat is the only 'only one bed' fic i've ever written. it's just pure, unadulterated, shameless, steamy Hotchniss smut.

every lover's game is what happens after you send the girl you fancy in to flirt with a creepy guy called Viper. it's pure filth. it's great. probably my favourite filth i've written. you're welcome.

trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat is angsty Hotchniss smut. like I earned the angsty smut tag on this one.

when it rains, it pours - more angsty Hotchniss smut. back from Paris, emily is struggling. then comes a storm.

Coming Home is wholesome Jemily smut.

Stress Relief and Debriefing are just pure Emily/Luke smut.

Hotchner's Future Au (in chronological order)

technically these all have a happy ending because emily and hotch are married and trying to cope with parenting x

nature vs nurture after having her first child, emily struggles with her mother's first visit and her criticisms.

a good cat never goes far - proceed with caution if you love Sergio. that's all i'll say. but also read it because i'm proud of it <3

the last first day - emily struggles with her last baby starting school

good intentions, bad excecution - livvy hotchner is a menace, but she's also a great big sister.

red-handed the kids catch emily and aaron in a...compromising position. based on a request to write a hotchners future au fic inspired by the modern family episode 'caught in the act'

my mama's in the kitchen worrying about me - emily struggles with having a teenage daughter who's exactly like her.

Good Crazy - jack announces that he and his girlfriend are expecting. emily and aaron temporarily lose their minds, but what's new?

#all of my fics #my writing #ask #steph speaks #nonny

[princessleechan]

"You're the Man" Profiles #3

Masterlist

⚽synopsis: After your university cut your soccer team to prioritize the men’s team, it’s natural you have a falling out with your then soccer-star-player boyfriend and impersonate your twin brother at the rival university to play on their men’s team. Wait, it’s not? Oh well.

⚽pairing: afab!reader x ot13 (??? Member)

⚽genre: humor, romance, crack, eventual smut

⚽series tags: MDNI, she’s the man au, revenge au???, cross dressing!reader, reader identifies anything but male, sports au, queer themes, university au, love-whatever the fuck kind of shape, tags will vary per chapter

⚽Tag list: @90s-belladonna @the-boy-meets-evil @lirtha97 @hipsdofangirl @justineasian @kwanisms @multi-kpop-fanfics @pantumin @wooahaeproductions @mayashu @shuasdraftsalt @lone-lone-ranger @headlockimnida @horanghaezone @haolistic @porridgesblog @jeonjungkaka @luchiet @ujimatchaaa @skzdesi @cheoliehansolie @vlbii @myghobi @sisterofsomeone @joonsytip @gyublues @alltheshineofthestars-blog @randomworker @isabellah29 @savgogh @too-many-kpop-hubands @kotarousproperty @shingsoluvely @kamabokogonpachro @skittlez-area512 @seccdlurv @chisskaa @mochiteez @theyluvfrankocean @lllucere @thomawifey @middle-of-the-earth @okiedokrie @itsokaytobedumb00 @humankimbap

Minghao: Friend of Y/n that helps them with their entire makeover and confidant. Usually is on the other end hearing your complaints and worries about this experience but it’s ok, he’s an artist. He has trust in his work.

Jun: Team member and one big ball of sunshine. Nice guy that’s just happy to be part of the team. Tries to keep the energy positive and a great distraction when conflict arises.

Jihoon: Team member that’s sympathetic towards Y/n for thinking they’re in the same situation. Gives unnecessary advice about being a short king and taking life by the balls. Things will get better lol.

Seungkwan: One of the new players on the team that accelerated to first string. Started the group chat of new players in the hope of making new friends.

Vernon: One of the new players on the team that plays second string. Needed a sports elective and accidentally joined the team but much more interested in the drama in the soccer team rather than the sport.

Chan: Youngest of the new addition of players and plays second string along with you. Wanted to expand his skill set and add some new moves under his belt as a dancer.

#svthub #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen #seventeen smau #seventeen fake texts #seventeen x reader #​plc.smaus💕 #seventeen series #choi seungcheol #yoon jeonghan #joshua hong #wen junhui #kwon soonyoung #lee jihoon #xu minghao #lee seokmin #kim mingyu #boo seungkwan #chwe hansol #nana writes #lee Chan #YTM

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter One

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

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Author's Note: After a lot of encouragement, I will be posting chapters in their entirety here and on AO3. Many many huge thanks to @acrossthesestars for being my co-pilot, and for holding my hand through writing this story. Thank you to everyone who has reblogged and commented. Your words mean the world to me.

CHAPTER ONE - THE WEIGHT THAT BROUGHT US HERE

Alicent watched the lords of the council settle into their seats, placing their markers in the proper place. Lord Tyland Lannister took his seat at the opposite end of the magnificent table, Lord Lyman Beesbury to his right. Maester Mellos and then Lord Larys at her own left hand. Jasper Wylde sat beside her father’s usual place at the right hand. The power of the realm all concentrated right in this room. They prayed to the Crone for guidance and wisdom at the beginning of every meeting, a practice that had thankfully not reached the ears of the king, as he’d been cloistered in his rooms since his illness had taken more of his body. It was one thing to allow her Faith to grace their dinner table. It was a whole other to have the Faith find its place at the Small Council. While his signature still graced the decrees, and his decisions still paramount for he was the King, Viserys had left the dealings of the realm to them. It was for the best - Viserys’ mind was giving way to his illness and the less seen, the better. Alicent didn’t know what she preferred: her husband demeaning her and neglecting her children, or him calling her Aemma when she came to care for him at night.

She grazed her fingers over the polished black marble ball in front of her as Maester Mellos began rattling off the never ending fighting between the Brackens and Blackwoods that not even the Father bearing down from the heavens himself could stop. They continued to tear themselves apart as if they would win all the gold in Casterly Rock for the longest, most ridiculous spat that the Tullys were no longer capable of handling. Sometimes she wished she could just drag charcoal lines along the map, piece off the floodplains to the north and the west and the mountains, let the other kingdoms take their pieces.

“Begs the question if perhaps it isn’t time to elect a new Lord Paramount to bring them to heel,” Lord Wylde harrumphed in his self-important way. The man was well and agreeable enough, Alicent thought, but every time he spoke, she missed Lyonel Strong. None of his proposals contained this ‘begging the question’ sort of nonsense, and none of Wylde’s attempts had any of the late Lord Strong’s well thought out solutions and easy friendliness.

“Unless grievous injustice is done, we cannot normally strip the title of Lord Paramount, but their inability to bring either house to heel since given the title is threatening the stability of the realm. Blackwoods own more land than the Tullys, and now we have reports they’ve gone undermining one another’s orchards, and putting others at risk.” Jasper turned his gaze to Larys, who had not spoken since the prayer. “Strong, your holding is Harrenhal. What do you have to say about this matter?”

Larys’ manner did not fool Alicent, but it worked wonders, as always, on Jasper. “This quarrel of theirs has lasted as long as the dynasty and longer still. King Jaehaerys brokered peace, and we cannot ascertain what sparked it again.” From the nervous licking of his lips to the fidgeting of his hands, he was a master at seeming far less dangerous than he truly was. “You might seek instead the opinion of my dearest uncle Simon. He is the castellan and knows both it and the Riverlands far better than I do, as I’ve been here during most of this recent infighting. ”

Wylde humphed, twitching his nose in such a way that his bushy mustache reminded Alicent of a walrus she’d seen at Driftmark. She dug her nails into her palm to hold back her laugh. “Should we offer the Tullys more incentive?” Wylde blustered, reaching for a solution that he could take credit for.

“Incentive for not letting their bannerman destroy harvests?” Tyland Lannister snorted, reclined in his chair as if he were the one running the meeting. “That’s their duty. If they can’t do it, then there’s a bigger issue to deal with.”

“Perhaps a betrothal,” Lord Beesbury spoke up, his eyes darting from Larys’ to hers. Alicent straightened, watching the man try to figure out how to present his own suggestion. “The Tullys are proud, and the Riverlands command a great host when they come together. Lord Tully’s great-grandson is around Princess Helaena’s age. It would be a show of friendship and goodwill.”

“A show of a dragon is what you mean, isn’t it?” Her father’s voice cut in smoothly, but she could see the annoyance in his eyes at the prospect of Helaena being sent to the Riverlands. She did not want her sweet girl sent so far away either, but his words hurt in their easy protectiveness of her daughter, when they had never done for herself.

“Dragons are a statement, my Lord Hand. If not the princess, perhaps… Lord Strong, your youngest sister is not yet married,” Beesbury continued, flush with ideas. Was Rhaenyra feeding them to him?

“If Grover Tully, or whomever is handling their seat, cannot bring them to heel, we should have the Lords Bracken and Blackwood come and explain themselves to the crown,” she cut in before Beesbury could really get his momentum going. Heads turned to look at her, and Alicent looked to the Grand Maester. “Send ravens today. By the moon’s turn, I want them before the Iron Throne explaining themselves.” There was a curl of satisfaction on her lips as the aging Mellos gestured to his assistant. “We should also have Lord Tully, or his son, also come to answer. I know Lord Grover has been recently ill,” she continued. Authority and compassion were the balance she must always strike, so that her decisions could not be questioned, her judgment nothing but sound. She was the Mother of the Realm after all.

“Well said, your Grace,” Larys said softly, that shadow blink of a smile on his face. Lord Beesbury’s suggestions were easily dismissed.

Tension knotted between her shoulder blades, and she shifted in her chair to relieve the pain. She drummed her fingers on the armrest of the chair as her father’s warning spun dizzily through her thoughts.

Either you prepare Aegon to rule, or you cleave to Rhaenyra and pray for her mercy.

That morning, Ser Criston found the boy who might be king passed out in the stables with his cock in hand; at least her father hadn’t found out. Alicent felt nauseated at the idea of sacrificing a girl barely younger than she’d been in an attempt to corral her son into leadership.

The doors of the chamber opened. Ser Harrold Westerling entered the room with the head dragonkeeper, Arryx, following behind. Her father rose not in a show of respect for the Kingsguard Commander, but some show of power - the unyielding stone and height of the tower that would not bow to neither wind nor storm.

“Forgive my tardiness, your Grace, my lords.”

Her father waved a hand and sat back down. “We were told that you were attending to an urgent matter, Lord Commander.”

Ser Harrold clasped his arm across his chest and bowed to her. “This morning, I was alerted to events that transpired last night inside of the dragonpit. Keeper Arryx wanted to speak of the matter to you personally.” Ser Harrold stepped back to allow the aging keeper to take the floor. Alicent gave her own nod to the man as he rose from his prostration.

“Dreamfyre has laid another clutch of eggs. Only three, your Grace, and she will let no one near them. Vhagar has been circling,” Arryx said.

Alicent frowned. Dreamfyre had not laid a clutch in several years now, and Vhagar rarely came to the pit. She was too old, too large, with little desire to be kept with her smaller brethren. The horrific beast preferred a rocky outcropping far out into the bay.

Aemond had given her a quizzical look when she’d brought it up once, when he was still bedridden and recovering from his mutilation. Her sweet boy was now strung through with a confidence that she’d never seen ignite within him when he had both eyes. The dangerous glint that confidence took as he’d grown older was also new.

She’s protecting what is hers, mother. We both are, he’d said.

“I have spoken with the Commander of the City Watch, your Grace, to ensure that those in the areas closest to the pit keep their distance unless absolutely necessary. It has allowed us to take stock of the current state of those neighborhoods.” Ser Harrold turned to look at Ser Otto. “A full report will be on your desk.”

Her father nodded, and Ser Harrold looked once more to the keeper.

Arryx shifted on his feet, and Alicent watched his eyes flick to the Grand Maester with an expression that she could not discern. The Citadel and the Hightowers have always stood side by side for the betterment of the realm, Alicent, and you’ll continue to foster that friendship, won’t you?

“Five of the kitlings have also died, your Grace. They were unbonded, brought from Dragonstone before…”

Before Daemon had come back.

“How many dragons does this put us at?” Her father’s deceptively mild tone was the opposite of his glee when Aemond had claimed Vhagar. The numbers requested were ones he’d calculated in his head, monthly, since he’d come back.

“Claimed, my lord?” Arryx asked, pausing momentarily. “Eleven, throughout the family. Lady Rhaena’s dragon hatched, but it was born twisted and sickly and did not last. I have not received word otherwise of any intention for Lady Rhaena to come and try to claim another dragon.”

Half of the dragons were claimed. Alicent watched her father drum his fingers along the table. Identifying the pattern took only a moment. He was counting.

Specifically, the dragons that were on their side.

“I want reports of the necropsies upon their completion,” her father said with a narrowed and assessing look, disturbed by the news. “The last thing we need is some strange illness to rip through all of them.”

Alicent chewed on the inside of her lip and watched the shining outline of the seven-pointed star beaming down on the table.

“Syrax is almost big enough for two riders now. Will you come touch the clouds with me, Alicent? Please?” Rhaenyra had always begged, mouth close to her ear, hands stroking her arms, her wounded and bloody fingers.

The joyful look that Aegon once gave her now reserved for a beast: “I’ve never known love until Sunfyre, mother. It’s like the world has color now that we’re together.”

“Dreamfyre keeps me tethered to the ground even as I fly in my dreams. She’s the only anchor I have,” said Helaena, who would withdraw from her touch as if it were a sting from a bee.

Little Daeron and his dragon clutched in his arms: “I can’t leave Tessarion behind, mother! I won’t know how to be happy without her!”

Dragons had robbed Alicent of everything.

“Thank you, Arryx. I will speak to the children and see what Prince Aemond might do about Vhagar.” The idea of her sweet, once immaculate and tender-hearted child being near that twisted, hoary thing still terrified her, no matter how gently reassuring Aemond could be.

Arryx did not move to leave just yet. “Forgive me, your Grace, but Vhagar is no Vermithor or Sunfyre: she is old and willful, and although she is bonded with our prince, I would suggest caution. He is… young, and Vhagar was forged in the fires of battle.”

He bowed once more before taking his leave.

Even in indescribable pain, in the face of his own father’s disregard and disdain, Aemond sought to soothe her. “Do not mourn me, mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

What else would her father do to get more dragons on their side?

Nervous tension pulsed in the silence left when the doors closed behind the dragonkeeper, filled only by the soft creak of the Kingsguard’s mail and the gentle clink of the chain around Grand Maester Mellos’ neck as he shifted in his chair, barely audible. The enduring mystery and curiosity of dragons was a specter of The Stranger above them all. Alicent had heard her kingly husband remind Rhaenyra repeatedly: Dragons were not pets. The bond with them should not blind their riders to the power that thrummed ancient and thick in their veins.

She breathed slowly, letting the quiet ease, refusing to meet anyone else’s eyes as the tumult of feelings inside of her crashed upon the jagged edges of her broken ribs. This was the right choice. Her babies were only half-Targaryen, and Rhaenyra’s bastards were the same, whether she’d ever admit to it or not.

Everyone in the room had grown up with the stories that the Conquerors spread when they forged the throne: The Valyrian blood magic that had made them dragonriders was only to be found in their Targaryen blood. That bloodline needed to remain pure. Yet, Rhaena’s pure Valyrian blood did not save her first dragon from being born sickly and dying quickly, while Aemond - Targaryen only by half - bonded with Vhagar, the most powerful beast in the world.

There were no further reasons to believe the Targaryens were gods after all, and above the realm they had conquered.

The great chair of the King creaked as she slowly rose, taking in the council before her. There were no Targaryens in this room, even if she had birthed her own clutch of half-dragons. Alicent bore this task without joy or fanfare. It was a duty to be endured for the good of her family, for the good of her realm.

She stood with her hands folded in front of her, the image of the Mother of the Realm. Alicent had done this once before, when she had declared that she was standing in an official capacity for her husband.

“My lords of the council,” She hedged a glance at her father before moving her gaze to each man at the table. Ladies of the realm should be on the council. “It is with great joy and love that the King and myself, with Lord Larys Strong, announce to the small council that we have arranged the betrothal of our son, Prince Aegon Targaryen, and Lady Abrogail Strong.”

Each of the lords straightened in their chairs. Lord Beesbury frowned and glanced away from her. The uncertain and uncomfortable shifting in his chair belied the embarrassment he was attempting to hide. Alicent felt no need to point it out. It was a fine idea that he’d presented and not his fault he did not know what had already been decided. Even if he was Rhaenyra’s lapdog, Alicent would be the better person, and not rub his face in it.

The congratulations buzzed in her ears as she sat back down in her chair, and beneath the table, she tore at the skin along her left thumbnail. The pain was as dull as the congratulations in her ears. Her father’s voice was distant, jovial even.

They hadn’t even told Aegon and Abrogail yet. She remembered standing in the same position, knowing what was coming, knowing what it would destroy and desperately hoping that it might not.

I have decided to take a new wife. I intend to marry Lady Alicent Hightower before Spring’s end.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Rhaenyra forgive me forgivemeforgiveme.

“A feast is in order to announce Prince Aegon and Lady Abrogail’s betrothal,” Tyland’s jovial tone broke the silence. His suggestion—or statement, depending on how Alicent took it—was not one that she’d expected when she sat down in Viserys’ chair, but welcomed the confirmation of his support.

Meanwhile, Larys’s expression gave nothing away. He simply inclined his head in agreement.

Her son — her trueborn son — for all his faults, deserved to be celebrated. She was happy she didn’t have to fight for this. It was Mellos who spoke next: “Given the last wedding that was celebrated within these halls, it would be a reassuring gesture to the Lords of the Realm if they were given the opportunity, and for us to show unity within House Targaryen. With the Prince’s nameday in a few moons, perhaps we can celebrate with a tournament.”

Alicent’s eyes cut to her father, who smiled lightly, nodding in agreement but careful not to say a word, allowing the Maester to be responsible for the idea.

“Even better,” Tyland raised his goblet in agreement. “We haven’t had a proper celebration in years. What better occasion? Lord Rickard Reyne will be overjoyed to hear the honor bestowed on his granddaughter.” He looked over at her father. “I take it you’ll be writing to him, Lord Hand?”

The last time Alicent had seen her uncle Lord Rickard had been at her mother’s funeral: now no longer the worst day of her life, but the memory that was still seared into her mind. She recalled Lord Reyne as a stoic man, but he’d been kind to her in her grief. Alicent hoped the years had not taken that away from him, but they likely had.

Time always stole away kindness.

Lord Beesbury looked pensive. Alicent could practically hear the man pushing house markers along the map in his head as the conversation continued. “Was Princess Rhaenyra involved in such a discussion?”

“The Princess Rhaenyra has continued to seclude herself and,” he paused, his gaze heavy and considering as he took in those around the table. “Her second husband, Daemon Targaryen, at Dragonstone. Neither has she come to the small council as her status allows, nor has she engaged with matters of the realm that her being heir gives her right to,” her father said smoothly, and he was right. “The king still grieves his daughter’s choices, and she has yet to amend with him. I agree with Lord Lannister and our Grand Maester. This would show the strength and unity and willingness of House Targaryen to bond and celebrate with the realm.”

Beesbury gave a humorless chuckle. “And nothing to do with presenting Prince Aegon formally.” As a contender. As a choice - that was left unsaid.

Alicent felt a surge of anger inside of her, instinct compelling her to protect her children and pull the wool Viserys and Rhaenyra spun from Beesbury’s eyes so he could see the truths they refused to acknowledge.

Not long after Aemond had been born, Lord Lyonel had enlisted her in trying to get Viserys to hold another declaration to follow Rhaenyra, if she was truly his desired heir even with two healthy boys of his blood. The King had originally chosen Rhaenyra because of the loss of Baelon and Aemma. Everyone wanted to keep Daemon off the throne, lest he became another Maegor the Cruel… and now, he was to be Rhaenyra’s consort, and Viserys still would do nothing. Alicent refused to believe that Rhaenyra would kill her half-siblings, that she would kill Alicent’s children for whatever love had been there. Every dark, curly haired little boy caused her to fear not what Rhaenyra would decide, but what others would encourage her to do. Her father had not been wrong - her sons would be beacons of rebellion, damned by the man who had so desperately craved a son, yet now ignored. How bitter a pill.

Daemon terrified her. They should all be terrified of him. Daemon now had Rhaenyra’s ear and her heart and her body. Daemon was not one to hesitate if something stood in his way.

Did you fuck Daemon Targaryen in a pleasure house? Targaryens have such queer customs.

“Prince Aegon is eight and ten, an accomplished dragonrider, ah…” Mellos trailed off, and the uncertainty on his face clawed at Alicent’s insides. Failure was acid in her throat.

Either you prepare Aegon…

That boy who would be king had groped six serving girls at the last feast before drinking and whoring his way through the Street of Silk.

“My sister and heir is of unimpeachable character,” Larys’ quiet voice carried within the room. “As a child, Abrogail was a playmate of Prince Aegon and his siblings, and she has become a beloved ward of Queen Alicent, who has done a remarkable job of raising her after the deaths of our parents. I would consider her to be a prime example of all our realm offers to a family that has, if I may be candid, gone to great lengths to keep to their own since the conquest. Wouldn’t you agree, Grand Maester?”

That poor girl she’d now chained to him was a picture of the Maiden. It had taken everything to ensure that her father waited for it. She would not have another bride offered to the throne before she was of age, while her father wanted nothing more than for Aegon to grow up.

Tension crept back into the room at Larys’ words. Nobody would think to utter these thoughts had Viserys been sitting there. Mellos cleared his throat and avoided her father’s gaze to adjust the heavy chain around his neck. The title of Grand Maester had been his even before Viserys’ reign, and he was possibly the closest representative that was not her to speak to Viserys’ mind.

“I would agree, Lord Strong. Perhaps even exploring the eventuality of wedding Prince Aegon’s children to Prince Jacaerys’ would… reassure Princess Rhaenyra. She once suggested a betrothal between Princess Helaena and-”

“We already have other candidates in mind for my daughter,” Alicent cut in immediately. She wouldn’t say anything about Jace’s children and future grandchildren. She refused to entertain the idea that Helaena would marry Rhaneyra’s son to cover her indignity and insult to everything that she had been given and born into. “We have time before the wedding,” she said with a gentler tone. “A year should be more than enough to introduce them to the realm and start introducing Prince Aegon to newer responsibilities befitting his station.”

That was time enough to beat her son into someone who could be King.

Morning light streamed through the gauzy, sage curtains of the princess’ room. Abrogail licked the honey clinging to her fingers as she moved towards the washbasin, abandoning half-eaten bread and cold cuts of meat at the table. Helaena also ignored their meal as she lingered at the only window that could give her a good view of the Dragonpit. Vhagar had been on the prowl that morning, unusually territorial, and the change in the dragon’s temperament had entranced the friend whom she called sister. She jumped when Abby ventured near her, eyes wide and body tense as a startled cat, so the redhead pivoted in the opposite direction in order to retrieve Helaena’s bodice. Normally, she did not wear one unless the Queen noticed, but on days when her mind drifted, the structure of the garment seemed to keep Helaena focused on the moment instead of her dreams. The princess was somewhere else in her thoughts, mechanically holding up her arms to have the bodice slipped over her shift.

“I’m going to tighten the laces now, alright, Helaena?” Abrogail told the princess as she always did, walking through the process so she wasn’t surprised by anything.

Helaena gave no verbal indication that she was listening, but Abby noticed her pale blonde head bob in acceptance. Slowly, she began straightening the garment, mindful of keeping her touch on the lacing and the chemise from pulling and pinching uncomfortably and defeating the purpose.

“Pink and red, he might be dead. Blue and black, no coming back,” Helaena murmured. Her gaze drifted to Myrella Penrose, who approached with a yellow, diamond patterned dress for inspection. “I don’t want my scales to be so bright.” Helaena’s voice did not rise from her quiet tone, and her gaze flitted away.

“How about the new one from Sevenmas?” Abby offered brightly before Myrella’s face could twist into the uncertain and disturbed look it took whenever Helaena drifted. “The ocean blue one with the beading. That’ll be nice to feel, right, Helaena?”

The princess tilted her head about, humming. “Yes, that would be.” She threaded her fingers together, pressing in so the knuckles would crack. Myrella visibly winced at the sound, but Abby just shook her head and carefully tucked the laces into the bodice. “The perfect hug,” came the breathless statement, before Helaena’s bright lavender eyes finally focused away from whatever she was tracking to turn around and look towards her. Abby took the dress from Myrella and offered her cousin a smile as she held it up. She was used to Helaena’s inquisitive gazes, as if she was a bug under the pretty Maester’s glass Aemond had gifted his sister. “Do you need them, too?”

“A hug?” Abby frowned.

“Scales - armor to protect you,” she clarified. Helaena held her arms up to slide the dress over her head, and Abby left her to do the little buttons down the front herself. “Or would you prefer a pretty carapace? Silver and reds, greens and blue. Pinks and black and gold.”

Abby laughed at the idea of being covered in so many colors, and Helaena even returned the smile as she finished her buttons. It was a good sign, and the tingle of worry that had been crawling up and down along her spine immediately eased. “To be decorated in so many colors? That would make for lovely armor.”

Helaena’s mood was improving, which meant that when the Queen finally came in, she wouldn’t immediately launch into fretting and worrying about the princess being in ‘one of her episodes.’ Abby knew the Queen did not mean it badly, but it still made her uncomfortable. Were her mother still there, she would say something if Abby expressed her concern. She was alone here now, and things were as different as the day and night.

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Alicent who entered. Helaena’s little smile turned bright and beaming: “Aemond!”

At four and ten, the boy was steadily growing with each passing turn of the moon. While bypassing Abrogail in height was no difficult feat, he now stood as tall as his sister and mother. Prince Aegon was the next family member he was bound to outgrow, and the Queen had already tasked her with ordering clothes to be made ready for when Aemond shot up again. Lord Otto towered over most, and he japed that Aemond might make it where Aegon had failed to surpass him.

Hearing Helaena’s joyous declaration, Abby caught a spray of pink blooming on his pale cheeks, and Aemond reached up to adjust the soft leather strap of his eyepatch. The scar no longer looked angry, but it was prominent; a ridge of thick skin that was only just smoothing out with time. The prince held a jar carefully in his hands. He took several steps before Abby clucked her tongue at him the way she would at her own cat, though Theraxis had not joined her that morning in Helaena’s room. Earlier, a maid brought along with their meals news that the cat was gallivanting in the discarded feathers while the scullery maids plucked chickens.

“Your mother will be up any minute. She said she doesn’t want to catch you in here anymore,” Abby warned with an arched brow. There was no censure in her teasing tone. Aemond was nearly her own little brother, although much was changing as they left their childhoods behind.

“She won’t be here for him,” Helaena said in a voice far more present than it had been before, Aemond’s very presence pulling her back down to earth and away from the clouds. “What did you bring me?” Even though her buttons were only half-done, Helaena rushed across the room to Aemond with her arms outstretched and fingers wiggling. “Oh! It’s beautiful! Abby! Look!” She held up the jar filled with little sticks and leaves – a fat blue and yellow cocoon precariously hanging from one forked stick inside. “I wonder if it belongs to the ones I released last year.”

“You’ll be the mother of all the moths and butterflies in the Red Keep,” Aemond said softly, so softly that Abby could hardly hear him despite standing close by.

Abrogail moved away from the siblings, smiling at Myrella and leading the woman to the opened door. “Thank you for your help this morning. I believe the Queen will need you more today. Let her know we’ll be going to the gardens later, if you please.” Lately, the Queen had been sending the Penrose woman to help Abby tend to the princess’ needs. It had made her nervous. When she asked the Queen if she was being replaced, the words stuck to her throat. Her Grace had been adamant that it was not the case at all, that it was only so Abrogail could learn from her in preparation for her own running of a household, and give Helaena time to get used to someone else helping her.

Another part of Abby wondered if the Queen knew Aemond was still coming to visit in the morning. Or worse, that Uncle Otto was spying. Abby was protective of her friends, her kin. They were siblings bonded through the years of fights in the mud and pranks and stories in the nursery. Bonds such as theirs were not so easily broken; they only changed as time passed, as things happened, like Aemond losing an eye.

Myrella Penrose gave her a tight smile and left down the hall. Abby watched her go, lingering in the door as Aemond and Helaena whispered in the room. Her friend’s quiet giggles were a rare sound, and Abby would do anything to protect those moments for her, for them both. She tugged at the embroidered cuffs of her dark blue-gray dress, thumbs brushing the little weirwood leaves sewn in delicate scarlet thread. Little golden dragons danced through them as a symbol of her ties with the family. Aegon had picked the golden thread, predictable as ever, when she’d asked his opinion.

She thought of the embroidered knot Helaena had been making – silver and green, tangling with red and black and gold. There were so many twists, but Helaena assured her that there was a rhyme to it, a dance with complicated steps. Aemond’s soft laugh cracked a bit, and Abby bit her lower lip to hide her giggle at the sound. She turned her head, and while she couldn’t quite make them out, she could see their shadows along the stone floor. They stood close together, heads bowed over something - maybe the jar, she couldn’t tell.

Heavy and purposeful footsteps echoed down the hall. Abby’s head snapped up from where she stood within the doorway, not immediately visible. She strained to identify the cadence, and her stomach twisted when she did.

“It’s him,” she hissed, glancing wide-eyed over her shoulder. Aemond’s head was close to Helaena’s with her hands resting on his shoulders. At Abby’s raised alarm, her fingers twisted in his dark green doublet and yanked him towards the partition, shoving him behind it. Abby snatched the jar with the precious cocoon inside and tucked it on the bookshelf behind the embroidered manticore Helaena had just finished. Otto Hightower’s footsteps were not alone, although the Hightower guards did not enter the Princess’ room when he swept in. Abby immediately dropped into a curtsy, a murmur of, “Lord Uncle.” Helaena bobbed slightly, twisting back and forth a bit. “Good morning, grandfather,” she said, bounding up to press a kiss on his cheek. If Otto had any weakness, it would be his unparalleled love and favoritism of his granddaughter. It was hard to tell how much Helaena enjoyed her grandfather’s attention and how much was one of her games, but whatever it was, it worked.

“Good morning, sweet girl. You look lovely today.” Otto’s voice was fond, his smile more gentle than he seemed capable of. He was an intimidating man. Abby had received nothing but kindness and vague disinterest, but he still made her nervous. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to borrow your cousin.” She felt her cheeks color as Otto’s gaze moved to her. Her mouth dried as her nerves returned to where they’d been when standing before the Queen, wondering if she was being replaced. Perhaps Larys was sending her back to Harrenhal or her sister was demanding she go to her in Casterly Rock.

Helaena smiled at her, though, with her hands folded across her stomach. “I’ll help you with your carapace later,” she reassured her. “You won’t be without armor.”

Closing the door behind them, the Hightower guards followed a few paces behind as Abby fell in step with him.

“Is everything alright?” she asked as they went left instead of right, towards the Hand’s tower. It had been years since she’d walked this path that had been as familiar to her as the gardens of the Red Keep. Her eyes glanced for the loose stone at the corner of the step, where she’d stow secret messages in the little hollow behind it. Had she left a note there? Was there perhaps a mystery one waiting for her?

“It is. And I hope you have been well yourself.” Lord Otto looked down at her gently, and she nodded. “The Queen says you pray often in the Sept?”

A prompt. A strange one, but a prompt all the same. She swallowed past her dry mouth and put a smile on her face. “Yes, I enjoy the quiet, and it helps me feel closer to my parents.” And brother, but she was careful not to mention Harwin around anyone but a handful. “It’s especially nice when her Grace joins me. It’s almost like I have my mother back.” No one could replace her mother, but the Queen had been there for as long as she could remember, and sometimes, when she tilted her head a certain way and the light caught in Queen Alicent’s auburn curls, she could pretend her mother was there once more.

“Her Grace speaks highly of you – how good you are with Princess Helaena, well behaved and polite. She said that you and the princess have made things for the poor children of the city. A very kind and admirable pursuit for you both. Your father would be very proud.”

“Thank you.” Abby wasn’t sure what else to say or what he was getting at as they began climbing the winding staircase. The familiarity of it hit her like a scent memory - one sudden and revealing of long-forgotten feelings. “I do my best to follow the Queen’s guidance and reflect well on my position within the family and her example.”

“Good. Very good.” She wasn’t sure if it was something she was supposed to reply to, so she hedged her bets and remained quiet. Her palms were sweating, and she discreetly wiped them on her skirt as she held the fabric. “I’ve noticed that you and Prince Aegon do not spend as much time together as you used to.”

Aegon? Why was she being asked about Aegon? Her stomach twisted, and she felt a prickle of heat along the back of her neck. It was true: they didn’t spend as much time together, but they hadn’t for years now, not since she spent more of her time with Helaena and… Aegon? Well, Aegon had been withdrawing slowly but surely for so long, like fraying threads at the seams. She’d be lying if she claimed to not miss him, because she did. She missed the happier boy he’d been, who did not constantly ply himself with drink and was more mercurial than a wild dragon.

Abrogail would also be lying if she claimed they saw little of one another, or spent no time at all because that was untrue as well. Until the past few moons, she’d gather lunch for the two of them when he finally rose well past noon, and he’d take her flying wherever he and Sunfyre desired to go. It had been something quiet and cherished, simply the three of them away from everything. Until Aegon had gotten in the tavern brawl all that time ago. Until Aegon started avoiding her. Until he barely acknowledged her at meals that he decided to join, even when he sat beside her. There was no way that Otto Hightower would not be aware of that, and she would not hedge around it. It wasn’t like anything untoward was happening.

“Not as much, but that is a natural casualty of leaving behind childhood. He found me earlier this week because it seemed there was a lack of honey cakes in the kitchen and I was the first to be interrogated.” There was a note of amusement in her voice, and Abby smiled in memory of his indignation and how silly he looked when she shoved honey cake into his mouth to stop his ranting. “He occasionally accompanies me in the Sept to pray. It’s incredibly kind of him to do so.”

She mounted a few more steps before realizing that Lord Hightower had paused. She turned to look at him. Morning light streaked through the narrow, delicate paned windows, casting shadow and illuminating dust in the air. He stared up at her, and with a few steps between them, she stood at his height. It was the first time she’d ever met her uncle’s eyes. Unlike her own unreadable brother, Otto’s face was not so impassive. He looked intrigued by her admission. Abby’s hands wound into her skirt so as not to fidget.

“He was not inappropriate, if that is your concern, my lord. Prince Aegon behaved with due respect.” To defend Aegon was second nature to her, and she would do so towards arguably the most powerful man in the realm if it meant to spare Aegon more shame and ire when, for once, he’d done nothing wrong. Which was true. Aegon hadn’t said a single thing. He knelt beside her, lighting candles, and simply stayed with her while she prayed for her family. He hadn’t even put a hand of comfort on her shoulder. She felt that was worth mentioning, given his current proclivities. She would not deny his vices, but she would not break confidence, and she would let no one, especially Lord Otto, think any worse of him if she could help it.

“Very good.” It took everything in her to keep the bewilderment off her face as she tried to understand what exactly he was trying to figure out. Otto resumed their progress, although now he rested a heavy hand between her shoulder blades like a father guiding a child. “So, you have no current complications with him?”

Complications? Did he think she’d lifted her skirts for Aegon? It wasn’t like she’d never thought of kissing him on those lazy afternoons when they’d lay in the grass and stare at the sky somewhere in the Kingswood with Sunfyre sunning himself like a cat. Of course she’d thought about kissing him, especially when he was at his most melancholy, with tears pooling in his eyes, making them pinker than normal. A kiss beyond the games children play, a kiss to comfort an angry prince in the firelight’s glow, his tears coursing down his cheeks with each snip of her embroidery scissors that sent locks of moonlight hair to the ground.

He’d never touched her more than a handhold, and far less than she touched him in her casual affections.

“No. No complications,” she confirmed.

They reached the landing, and Abby ran her hand over the stone dragon curled up in eternal sleep at the top of the stairs. Her fingers scratched along the smooth curve of its head the way she’d done every morning when she visited her father. She felt her uncle’s gaze on her, and she drew her hand away, hurrying to follow him into his office with her cheeks burning beneath her freckles, relieved only just by his vaguely amused expression.

The room was darker than it had been before. Gone were the stacks of books with various slips of paper sticking out haphazardly, or Theraxis lounging lazily along the cool stone floor by the door with his fluffy tail, sending motes of dust into the air. She instinctively clutched her skirt on the right to pull them away, so used to a giant paw the size of her hand grabbing at the fluttering fabric. But Theraxis was not there. The crumbling tome about the Andal invasion was absent from where it once rested on the side table. Instead, Larys stood by the fire with his back to her, as did the Queen, her lovely green dress covering her from neck to wrist with a golden pattern woven in the fabric that caught the firelight. Her face pinched in the way it did when she was uncertain and trying not to pick at her nails.

Abby noticed, of course. It usually meant that someone was about to get yelled at or she would send them away with the other ladies.

The figure in the chair slouched so far down that his silver head nearly vanished behind the back of it. At the clearing of Lord Otto’s throat, Aegon jerked up. His whole body held so much tension that it made Abby’s own hurt just by looking at him. He peered over his shoulder at them with glossy, red-rimmed eyes that give him a strange, ethereal sort of gaze, skin pale enough to prominently display the flushed pink mottling of a strike against his right cheek. He looked stuffy and uncomfortable in his dark green doublet, his fingers absently tugging at the buttons and collar. As his gaze focused, his eyes widened and darted from the uncertainty she knew was on her own face to his grandfather behind her.

The thud as Otto shut the door reverberated through her, and she and Aegon both flinched at the sound. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby could see the Queen flinch as well. Larys, as always, looked unphased. The heavy hand on her back pushed her towards the empty chair closer to the fire, and she had no time to bob a curtsy; courtesies stuck like toffee in her mouth.

The chairs once held the delicately embroidered pillows her mother made. She would curl up with them and read aloud from the books scattered around while her papa worked. He would-

“Queen Alicent and Lord Larys have received several letters expressing interest in you, Abrogail,” Otto said, walking behind his desk. She dug her thumbnail into the pad of her middle finger, and she saw Aegon’s booted foot twitch on the flagstone – a rocking motion from the ball of his foot to his heel before slapping it back down beneath the desk. Wood crackled in the fireplace. “Lord Farman is looking for a wife for his eldest, and Faircastle would be close to your sister.”

He plucked a scroll from the basket as he spoke, and Abby felt her stomach churn with nerves as a red heat clawed along her throat. She did not venture a look at Aegon, save for the foot he kept rocking back, the heel he repeatedly ground into the floor. He’d not gone back to slouching. He could be indolent and rude when he wanted, but not even Aegon dared to in his grandfather’s presence. Abby didn’t understand what this was about, or why Aegon was here.

“Edmund Vance, the heir to House Vance, recently lost his wife. A good man, and part of the Riverlands although a small seat. Or, if you married Jesper Celtigar, the heir of Crackclaw, you’d be able to remain in King’s Landing.”

Otto Hightower produced scroll after scroll and Abrogail felt the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks, confusion keeping her words locked away. How was she supposed to react to all of this? What was he trying to say? Were all these marriage proposals meant to make her feel better about herself? No, that was too odd to contemplate.

Why was Aegon here?

“Lord Grover has also written of his interest in you for his grandson. A Paramount seat would let you be close to your home at Harrenhal, and he already has an heir. He would take good care of you, and your children would have every opportunity.” Another scroll plucked from the basket. “It would bring Harrenhal into their holdings. Is that not correct, Lord Larys?”

Right. Harrenhal.

A woman’s lot is to only be worth what she could bring to the table.

Her brother was a man of few words, and he inclined his head with a shadow of a smile flickering across his face. Abby looked at the queen to find that her face was pinching harder. In the interim, Queen Alicent stepped away from the fire and moved instead to the desk with the gentle swoosh of her skirts gliding across the stone. She cleared her throat, a smile fighting its way on her face.

“All the offers were wonderful for you, my sweet girl, but none seemed right.” The Queen reached out to tuck a copper curl behind her ear, and Abby could not tell if this was supposed to be comforting to her or if the Queen sought comfort in the action for herself. Her lungs felt constricted, and it finally dawned on her.

Oh.

The sole of Aegon’s boot continued to drag across the stone in both a nervous fidget and to keep himself from slouching down even further into the chair. The only reason she could hear it was because of how focused she’d been on it, but now blood rushed into her head and Abby broke eye contact with her cousin to look down in her lap.

“What does seem right is for you and Aegon to be married, after your nameday. You’ll be eight and ten, and the pair of you will go to live at Harrenhal, and make your home there.”

Oh.

“Are you fucking serious?” Aegon’s voice was a hoarse, disused rasp from a night with endless drink. When she looked at him again, she noticed that his hair was still damp, and that beads of water from the wet ends had soaked little spots into the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t looking at her, but up at his mother, and then, incredulously, across the desk at his grandfather.

Otto’s face remained impassive following his grandson’s outburst. Abby wanted to grab Aegon and drag him out of the way of whatever was about to come out of the Hand’s mouth, as if the words would physically harm him.

The silence lengthened. Another log popped in the fireplace.

“He speaks.” The amusement in Otto’s voice caused Aegon to draw back further into his chair before he finally turned to look at her. His eyes were so red-rimmed, and his sullen face was so terribly pale that the pink-lilac of his eyes stood out ethereally, inhumanly like the drawing of a fae folk from a book she had as a child - wild and cornered. He’d bitten his pouty, chapped lips bloody.

Aegon searched her face for an answer to a question that she did not know. The only thing Abrogail could do was give him the gentle, reassuring smile she’d given him countless times before. It was what she did in this world: comfort her loved ones in any way possible, even as she needed to bury her own feelings on the matter. Feelings that, in this particular case, she couldn’t even begin untangling in the moment.

“Well, that makes us luckier than most, doesn’t it?” Abby cleared her throat and turned the smile onto the others in the room. She reached up to grasp the Queen’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze before she burst into a million pieces. Whether it was her, or the Queen, that might burst, she could not say. “We are fortunate to know one another so well and to be of an age. I thank you Lord Hightower, your Grace.” She looked at Larys, who remained silent in his observations, as always – an owl in a tree, eyes taking in everything. “Thank you, brother, for looking out for me.”

She felt Aegon’s eyes continue to pin on her. She looked back at him.

The wild and anxious expression was still on his face, and instinct compelled her, as it often did, to reach out her hand to take his - but he surprised her by beating her to it. His skin felt like fire engulfing her frigid hand and his fingers tangled with hers with easy familiarity. Before she could register what was happening, Aegon’s chair was already scraping across the floor and he pulled her from her chair with the momentum of jumping from his own. There was no pause in his movement as he dragged her to the door.

“How very fortunate we are.” A laugh bubbled from Aegon’s chest. It was a joyless sound when he laughed in the presence of his mother and grandsire. It was edged with the familiar mania; Aegon laughed when he was afraid, when he was anxious, when he was trying not to scream as his world was coming apart, or the laughter and joy on the back of Sunfyre. He tilted his head to stare up at the ceiling before throwing a look over his shoulder at the three across the room. “How very lucky we are.”

Aegon’s hand was clammy around hers, his grip bordering on painful. He yanked the door open with a protesting whine of the latch. Abby heard the Queen calling after him, but Aegon’s strides were purposeful as they ate up the ground to get away. Only the grip of their hands kept her from being left behind in the claustrophobic room where their future was being decided for them.

It might have been the second bravest thing she’d ever witnessed from him.

[Chapter Two]

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon x abby #fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #my fics

[darklinaserver]

Welcome to the Darklina Server’s next event: March Mania!

For the month of March, we’re doing a fun competition to create some amazing fanworks & see how many each ‘team’ can gather, with themes running the gamut of the Grishaverse. Anyone who loves Darklina can participate!

Rules:

Each creation MUST use the TOPIC of the team card and one of the secondary elements. For instance, a work supporting Fated Red must feature desire or lust, and either a motif of the color red or the topic of fate. A work for Imperial Purple must feature two thrones, and either a motif of the color purple or a throne room. You are welcome to use every component on the team card as part of the piece you make!

You can enter as many times as you want, for as many different teams as you choose. You aren't locked into a single team!

If posting to AO3, MUST be submitted to the collection by 11:59 PM, March 30th, 2024, Eastern Standard Time

The winning ‘team’ will be determined by how many creations each team has accrued during the month of March. All the fanworks for the winning team will have a special feature on our blog here

FAQ

Yes! You can enter as many fanworks as you want!

Yes! You can hop from team to team! You can switch it up for each fanwork

Yes! You can use the same topic or team over and over. You do not have to switch it up for each fanwork

Yes! Off-server fans can enter their works into the event as well!

Yes! You can submit a single entry to two teams IF it satisfies requirements for both teams. Example, if you are making something for Ravkan Blue and Os Alta Black, you MUST feature both a corruption arc and politics, but better.

Yes! You can make artwork, gifsets, moodboards, playlists, poems, drabbles, full blown novels, etc for this event! The more the merrier!

Yes! A visual creator may use a fic posted for this event as inspiration for their own creation!

Yes! You can start submitting starting March 1st!

Yes! You can collaborate and co-create with others for this event; however, if your group only uploads one work that only counts as one entry

Yes! You can make multi-chapter works for this which feature multiple teams, but you MUST add each team you’re supporting to the tags. If you do not add the team to the tags, some of your team entries may not be counted.

TAGS AND COLLECTIONS

Collection link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DarklinaServerMarchMania2024/profile

Tags: Darklina Server March Mania 2024 ; DarklinaMarchMania2024 ; Team Os Alta Black ; Team Imperial Purple ; Team Ravkan Blue ; Team Elizaveta Green ; Team Shu Han Gold ; Team Fated Red ; Team Ketterdam Brown

Team Requirement Plain Text:

Os Alta Black Topic: Corruption Arc Secondary Element: Black motif or Os Alta

Imperial Purple Topic: Two Thrones on that Dais Secondary Element: Purple motif or Throne Room

Ravkan Blue Topic: Politics, but Better Secondary Element: Blue motif or Ravka

Elizaveta Green Topic: Back to Life Secondary Element: Green motif or the Saints

Shu Han Gold Topic: Alina's Heritage Secondary Element: Gold motif or Shu Han

Fated Red Topic: Desire or Lust Secondary Element: Red motif or Fate

Ketterdam Brown Topic: Money, Crime, Betrayal Secondary Element: Brown motif or Ketterdam

#darklina #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the darkling #shadow and bone #grishaverse #events #marchmania #DarklinaMarchMania2024

[yujeong]

Favourite Underrated Ship? Simple answer: Every single Pete rarepair! -> PorschePete? Iconic! Brilliant! Phenomenal! Most people love "best friends who kiss", I love "secret third thing". However one enjoys them, though, they're delicious to consume😌 (You might think it's not an underrated ship, but I'd like to inform you that it has, in fact, less than 100 fics on Ao3, so it very much is in my book. I'm happy to have contributed to it by posting two of them, but I'd love it if there were more. Hopefully, I'll get inspired anew one day.) -> KinnPete? Oh please, the power dynamics make me giggle like a 10 year old girl playing with Barbie dolls. Such glorious toxicity, such perfect ways Kinn could use and abuse Pete to his benefit, either with or without knowing he's doing it. You can do so much with them, either pre, during or post canon and I get so excited thinking about it. (This one has less than 50(!) fics posted, so I'm super thankful to the few authors who have gifted me some amazing works. Sharing my personal favourite because it deserves to be cherished 🥹) -> ArmPete? Do I even need to sell this one? It can do fluff, it can do angst, it can do smut, it can do it all. My personal favourite flavour of it is Arm having unrequited feelings for Pete because it's just so deliciously angsty 😇 I love me some pain, I can't help it. (This one doesn't have any fics to its name, besides one in Chinese. I'm devastated. I did personally have an idea for a multi-chaptered fic with 3k words already written, but if I manage to focus on it properly one day, it'll end up being a simple one-shot.) -> KimPete? Oh, you mean the ship I got so obsessed over I wrote 25k words of them platonically bonding, while having Kim think to himself more than once how pretty Pete is? You mean the ship that shares so many similarities with VegasPete, while still having its own identity based on the differences between Kim and Vegas? You mean the love of my life? (Again, fics for this one are almost non-existent, which is a shame, but understandable. One day, I'll manage to enrich the tag. One day.) -> TankhunPete? Take KinnPete's fucked up power imbalance and twist it in a more peculiar direction. What you get is this ship, which makes me so uncomfortable but so, so intrigued. (Incredibly underrated with how few fics it has, but a special thanks to this one for altering my brain chemistry when I first read it.) -> BigPete? Rivals who might engage in hate sex from time to time? Pals who share the same fate and understand it and bond over it? Pick your poison and roll with it, because it's delicious either way. I'm personally team "They hate each other" because it's more fun that way 😉 (Almost nothing here again, which is a shame, but again understandable. I had forgotten they shared 2 lines of dialogue together in the show, I deadass thought they never talked to each other, which was great for me lol. Here's one fic written by the same person who wrote the KinnPete one, in case you'd like something cool to read.) -> TayPete? This one's for pure aesthetic reasons because have you seen Tay, have you seen Tay at the auction, have you imagined Pete and Tay fucking at the auction, because I surely have 🙂 It's such a gorgeous image, I lose focus for a hot minute when it comes to me. (This one's tricky, because most people write Vegas/Pete/Tay, which is a glorious choice and I support it, and my talented friend is writing a very good VPT fic, but I'd love it if there were more fics that focus on these two only. They're too powerful, I can't get enough.) I think those are all the ones I'm personally obsessed with. All I have to say is, Pete deserves all the beautiful men and what they'd like to do with him ❤️

#kpanniversary2024 #underrated ships #I have *opinions* about this #this is just a summary #give Pete all the gorgeous men pls #he deserves it #*I* deserve it #do let me know if I've forgotten any ship #it's important to remember them all #for science #pete saengtham #kinnporsche the series

[itwoodbeprefect]

Fic Writing Review 2023 🌈

i wanted to take a moment to reflect on the past year and bring it to a nice close, so i took to tumblr search and google to see if there was some sort of tag game going around. i frankensteined this list of questions from a few different versions of what was probably originally the same thing, but the nature of The Website of course makes it impossible to locate an original, so this is me just sort of, well, joining the fun by starting a parallel thread.

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Words and Fics (on ao3) 📚

words posted: 73,947, but this is a little deceptive because all the words for A flip-flop state of mind currently get counted for 2023, so it's probably something closer to 45-50k

fics posted: 21, which will eventually go down to 19 when i update the two multi-chapter works and they get sorted into the new year

first fic: Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream Throuple [Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948)]

last fic: Bases loaded, do your dance [h50]

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Ships and Fandoms ⚓

ao3 tells me the following:

Starsky & Hutch (8)

Hawaii Five-0 (2010) (7)

Ted Lasso (TV) (2)

Stargate Atlantis (1)

Hard Core Logo (1996) (1)

Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948) (1)

Top Gun (Movies) (1)

and for each of those it's probably the ship you most expect if you know the thing (and the way fandom works), except maybe ted lasso (both fics are keeley/roy/jamie) and sga (a gen team fic, no ships).

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Top 5 Fics by Kudos 🏆

no big surprises here. ted lasso was easily the biggest fandom i've written for this year (not to mention that these two fics had the good fortune of being posted very soon after the finale), followed by h50 long before s&h comes on the scene:

How To Build A Triangle (or accidentally fall headlong into one, or whatever the fuck) [ted lasso]

Honey honey, how you thrill me (Honey honey, nearly kill me) [ted lasso]

A flip-flop state of mind [h50]

Oh, kiss me like the final meal (Yeah, kiss me like we die tonight) [h50]

Something old, something new [h50]

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Top 5 Favorite Fics 💖

these are in no particular order!

3 AM, the time when most people die - this is a hard core logo (1996 canadian movie) fic which just kind of Happened, and it hung around on ao3 for a solid few days in a 0 kudos 10 hits sort of state, which had me giggling every time i thought about it. 2023 goal of writing for me, myself & i achieved (0 kudos on a fic)! ✅ (that said, it does also bring me great joy to see that the number is upwards of zero now. lovely to see an obscure thing find its audience. <3)

Your hands in my back pockets - a starsky/hutch fic, and in some ways the opposite to the previous one. i had a "this is alright" sort of feeling about it when i hit post, and the (lovely! very flattering!) way people responded to it surprised me somewhat. reading it back now, i don't know what bothered me about it at first - it's nice, it flows, it's all good! plus, i really like the title. it's a good s/h title.

POV: It’s a lovely day, you’re sipping a refreshing cold drink on your 70s apartment balcony, and the upstairs neighbor who always waters the sago palm outside your front door when you forget about it has that one friend over and his windows wide open. - this is a starsky/hutch all dialogue fic, and it was just plain fun! very easy to write, thankfully not hard to read, and the title is completely ridiculous in a way that still gives me a kick.

How To Build A Triangle (or accidentally fall headlong into one, or whatever the fuck) - can't not mention this one, i think. it's the roy/jamie/keeley ted lasso fic i wrote in record time (for me), and i had a blast doing that and i think that's palpable in the end result. i have warm memories of this!

Oh, kiss me like the final meal (Yeah, kiss me like we die tonight) - h50! steve/danny! they'd gotten swamped by all the starsky/hutch in 2022, but they made a minor comeback this past year. and again, this fic was just plain fun - a scene that really needed the mcdanno rewrite, and i'm glad it happened, and that it decided to flow so smoothly it grew twice as long as intended. the gag with the gun is still good, the banter works, and i like "it tastes like a laugh".

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Fandom Fic Events 🤝

my knee-jerk first thought was none, which would have been a blatant lie for this year! i wrote a fic for the SHareCon (starsky/hutch con) zine, which is currently still zine-only but will appear on ao3 at some point in the future, and i also wrote something for this year's Starsky & Hutch Advent Calendar, which can be found here (which will also lead you to all the other lovely advent calendar gifts of 2023 and previous years!). neither of these things would have happened if starsky & hutch fandom hadn't been such a warm, welcoming, unbelievably well-organized space. <3

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Projects for 2024 👀

oh god. oh god i have so many things on the grill.

the end of 2023 was a stretch of time where i did write some, and at times even a very decent amount, but nothing seemed to be getting finished - which was annoying for a bit, and then sort of petered out into oh well. it'll happen, eventually, when it wants to. which means that currently i have a whole bunch of nearly finished things for a whole bunch of fandoms:

bad buddy - should this be top of the list? who knows. but oh, i need to write something for this - i have to, i need to, you know. it's just that it's turning out to be more of a challenge than most new things i start writing for, because i do feel i have a reasonable grip on the characters, but the fact that it's a thai series which i'm only consuming through fan-generated subtitles is clashing with some of the fundamentals of how i usually write fic, as it turns out. usually i watch a thing and then mimic character voices to write a section of (probably mostly, maybe only) dialogue, which then gets filled out with descriptions and an actual setting later on. the problem with bad buddy is that i love, love subtitles, and i love, love the people who write them, but they do (understandably! naturally!) lead to some very clunky english at times, and i just can't write things like "are you chickened out, fierce eyes". i cannot. which means i need to half-invent the right english character voice (and how that blends with the little i know of thai speaking patterns and customs), which takes away the thing i usually lean on way more heavily than i previously realized i did, so. it's a journey! it's an experiment! i'm learning things! i'm making choices! and i'm pumped about it but it's also REALLY slowing down the bad buddy fic production.

starsky & hutch - many things are happening! many many! they're just happening slowly. there's one particular fic about starsky and hutch comfortably out at a party and hutch fielding questions about names which has been 98% done for a month or two, but i need one (1) more connective paragraph to wrap things up, and apparently i'm in no hurry. and i love that for me, at the same time as i'm tempted to flick my brain and go Do It. Just Do It. oh god, and then there's a much older comedy fic stuck in close to the same situation only there it's 95% and the missing part is the end, which is at least a little more serious, and there are. i think literally a dozen probably. things that are cooking, bubbling, making interesting little noises. it's yet to be seen which of those turn out tasty.

h50 - there are some shorter wips here that have great potential to go somewhere, but mostly i want to finally (finally!) wrap up a flip-flop state of mind, which only needs finishing touches (albeit a bunch of them) on the final chapter, and then maybe 200 more words for the short epilogue to round things out. i had somewhat hoped to get that done before the new year, but it didn't work out that way, and i'm at peace with it - the longer this fic takes, the more comical my initial estimate of "i can probably get this done within the month" becomes. and after that's done, i can refocus my energy on Sweet like a chic-a-cherry cola, another ill-fated plan which i Will see through (while also enjoying myself), dammit, but i think for that one i'll need to pre-write the whole thing before i start posting again or i'll just keep going in circles.

nashville - it's been a while since my rewatch, so i'm not sure it will ever really come together, but i have a fun little 5+1 will/gunnar thing which lives half in a google docs file and half in my heart. could be nice!

sga - there's One Fic that's near done and has a few turns of phrase in it that keep making me go "oh, this might be worth finishing, actually" every time i return to it, but i think i'll need to let that happen a few more times before we actually get there. there's also a light and comedy-ish aro/ace john fic (heavily featuring john&rodney and john&team) on a low boil. i think that one might need to wait for me to rewatch the show at some point so i'm correctly immersed in the Vibes of it all, but it's very dear to me, so it still gets a permanent In Progress label.

due south - there's one particular thing that i might get back to? maybe. it could happen. @redgoldblue's dedicated live reporting on their due south watch, as well as their ds fic, did stir something in my brain.

other - there's literally two paragraphs of hard core logo fic kicking around in my notes which might turn into something some day. (when i started writing 3AM those new words were intended to blend with the two existing paragraphs, but they never did.) there's some ted lasso that can still be considered wip, but my ted lasso fic moment burned bright and short, it seems, though it's nice to know the framework is there if i ever do a rewatch. oh man, and there's a weird homoerotic over the top (because that's what this canon is) tango & cash wip which i hope will make it across the finish line some day, but i wouldn't be surprised if in the end that's, like. coming to an ao3 page near you soon! in 2026.

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Tagging ✨

tag any number of people you want as far as i'm concerned (which can be zero! that's a valid number), but i haven't spotted this going around in my fandom circles yet, so i'll shoot for some good coverage: @redgoldblue @luredin @actingcamplibrarian @stephmcx @pterawaters @the-arya-silvertongue @logicgunn @incognito-insomniac @dedkake @spaceradars @spurious @sparrowsarus @flownwrong @theroseandthebeast @jimmyandthegiraffes @soleadita @ivycross @murphyhatesme @bgharison @thekristen999 @cowandcalf @msbeeinmybonnet @ruztyryan and you, reading this. i fully tagged myself to do this, so please don't feel shy about doing the same! i really do want to read your answers, if you feel like giving them.

obviously there's no pressure, and also feel free to modify this any way you want! give different stats, list top 5 by hits instead of kudos, name just one favorite fic, add in fics you only posted to tumblr rather than ao3, skip a category or invent a new one or throw the whole thing out and only reflect on a single piece of writing in more detail - it's all fair game, as long as it suits you.

#biggest regret is probably that neither flip-flop OR any of the bad buddy fic got finished before dec 31st #but that's okay. there'll be another dec 31st. we've got time! #* #tag stuff