#took me SO long thanks for being patient!!

[bratbby333]

rough game...c'mere, brat — ryomen sukuna

𓆩♱𓆪 synopsis gamer!bf sukuna loses his game. while he's taking his anger out on you, he goes a little too far. 𓆩♱𓆪 word count 2k 𓆩♱𓆪 cw established relationship, language, choking, use of safe word, rough sex, hints of cnc, degradation, cervix fucking, smut/angst/comfort 𓆩♱𓆪 an from an anon request! sorry it took so long my love...thank you for being patient with me xx not beta read!

nsfw 𓆩♡𓆪 mdni

“Fuck this dumbass shit,” a grating voice broke through your peaceful silence. The clattering sound of a discarded headset and the angry glide of a chair echoed through the hallway, making your shoulders tense. Not even a minute later, Sukuna’s heavy footsteps stomped toward the room, shoving the door open. 

“Rough game?” you inquired, your eyes still focused on your reading. He took quick strides toward you, scowling as he tore your book from your hands. Before you could reprimand him for interrupting your quiet time and discarding your book so haphazardly, his hands were anchored under your armpits and pulling you from your chair. He tossed you onto the bed, your body bouncing against the mattress. Not a single word was exchanged as he clambered on after you, but his hungered eyes scaling up and down your body told you everything you needed to know. 

Shock reverberated through your body at how quickly this was unfolding, but the aggressiveness of his actions paired with the animalistic look on his face sent pangs of desire through your core. It was typical for Sukuna to be irritated after a particularly infuriating game, but not like this. Anticipation swirled through your stomach, excited for what was to come. He fucked you so good when he was pissed.

His hands clawed across your body as he tore your clothes away, his feverish kisses turned into battling tongues and clashing teeth as he leaned over you. He ran two digits between your slit before spitting a fat glob of saliva onto your cunt, thumbing at it as he licked the palm of his free hand, wrapping it around his length. He jerked himself off as he pumped into you, his thick fingers dragging against your g-spot with every plunge. His tongue darted from between his lips, the muscle lapping hungrily at your nipple, sucking harshly before latching on, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub. Your back arched toward him, fully immersed in the shockwaves of desire that coursed through you. With a couple rough rubs of his shaft against your clit, he was sinking deep inside you, bottoming out immediately. 

You had seen him get like this on multiple occasions– he got riled up pretty easily when it came to his games. The fact that you got any sort of foreplay before the main event was a shock to you as his hips rutted against you. But even then, it still wasn’t enough to prepare you for what was in store. Sukuna gave you no time to adjust to his pace as he pummeled your pretty pussy. His thick cock tugged in and out, the less than optimal amount of lubrication making the stretch of his girth borderline unpleasant. But the sensation of his head rubbing against your sweet spot made your tummy churn with lust, your arousal flooding through you, dampening your cunt after a few of his mean strokes. 

He felt your walls flutter around him in an attempt to adjust to the abruptness of his intrusion. He stared down at where your bodies met as he bullied himself deeper, your face twisted as you worked to accommodate him. Small whimpers left your lips as he fucked into you, every brutal rock of his pelvis made the head of his cock carress you in just the right way. Sukuna loved when you struggled to take all of him. Even with the work he did to open you up with his fingers, he knew it wasn’t enough to get you good and ready. But he was hungry, starved even, frustration ripping through him, his carnal urges taking over. This wasn’t enough for him tonight. He needed an outlet to channel his anger into…he needed to break you. 

A dark growl emanated from his sternum as he repositioned, pressing your legs toward your chest. You had just barely gotten used to him before the new angle pushed his cock way deeper than your body wanted to allow, and so soon at that. Something was off today. Your eyes frantically darted across his face as his vicious thrusts began to slam into your womb. Sukuna’s dark, demented expression was bone-chilling. And then it clicked. He didn’t care if it felt good…he was happier when it didn’t, when he was the only one getting off. His ego had taken over. He wanted it to hurt, wanted to take all the rage he felt out on you. And that scared the shit out of you.

"Ahh!...'K-kuna...Sukuna!" you yelped, your palms pressed into his abdomen as his hips ruthlessly slammed into you. His hands pushed into the back of your thighs, your legs shaking from the deep stretch. The thick head of his cock brushed meanly against your cervix with every thrust. 

"Yeah, brat...take that shit, say my fuckin' name," he growled, pressing your legs deeper. One of his hands was planted by the side of your head, the other wrapped around your throat while he leaned his full body weight against the back of your legs, folding you into yourself, the pressure against your ribs coupled with his bruising grip around your windpipe labored your breathing, making your head spin.

"I...can't....h-hurts," you rasped, your voice a broken whisper as his fingers dug even deeper into the sides of your neck. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, slamming himself against you with hungered rage. 

He was so caught up in his own bliss, ignoring your mumbled pleas for relief as he bulldozed into you. He didn’t care. The sadistic chuckle that broke through his chest solidified that fact. His eyes were dark, his brows furrowed deep. He was lost in the sloppy sounds of your pussy sucking him in, spurred on by the whines that seeped through your constricted windpipe as he slammed into the soft wall at the back of your cunt. The rough huffs of your breathing and your fragmented whimpers got him off even more.

“Su..kuna,” you stammered, your words caught in your lungs. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, attempting to pull his fist away, but he wouldn't budge.

You were dazed, your eyes watering from the ache between your legs as you slapped his arm, "W-wait–ahh!– shit…’s too mu..ch." You wedged your arm between the two of you, rubbing quick circles against your clit in hopes to alleviate the burn. 

But his pace was unwavering and your body couldn’t adjust. His eyes were locked on yours, a demented grin on his face as waves of fear raked through your body…an unvoiced message ringing clear between the two of you: He heard you, but he’s not stopping.

He dipped down to suck harshly at the sweet flesh behind your ear, biting at the sensitive skin. “Stay still n take it, brat…let me have this.” His words echoed in your head as he leaned back, straightening the arm that was anchored around your throat as he mercilessly rutted into you, every smack shooting both pain and pleasure through your trembling frame.

The rough plunges of his cock iinn and ooutt of your sticky walls burned so beautifully. As much as you wanted to surrender to the waves of arousal that were threatening your floodgate, it was too much. The discomfort outweighed the enjoyment. Not this time. It was all too much.

“Fu..ck,” you squeaked, your throat raw and face flushed as anxiety gnawed at your spine. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your vision going dark. “R-red,” was all you could manage through the tightness of your throat. Your eyes glazed over, stars visible behind your heavy lids from your depleting supply of oxygen. Your trembling hands clawed up and down his forearms in hopes he’d hear you. But he didn’t. His rhythm persisted, the vulgar sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass drowned out your desperate pleas. He was splitting you in half, every rut of his hips sending you closer to your breaking point.

“Ple..ase–unghh…can’t,” tears welled in your eyes as Sukuna smiled down at you. “Too much, huh? Can’t take me like ya used to?” His jaw was tight as he taunted you, his grip around your neck tightening even more as he jostled your head around. Your fearful eyes flipped a switch in his brain as he pulled out and shoved all the way back in, delighted with the way your writhing body attempted to get away from him. His brow arched with amusement as he watched your face contort. This was a game for him. He was getting off on toying with you. A broken scream cut through your lungs while you gasped for air, tears spilling from your eyes.

“Red–fu..uck!–RED!” A perplexed look painted your boyfriend’s face before realization set in. You gasped as his grip loosened and his hips stilled against you. A lingering hint of disappointment flashed through his eyes as he pulled out, pushing himself off you to allow your legs to fall against the bed. You wheezed and coughed, the pulsing ache in your abdomen fully setting in as you worked to regain your composure. 

"You don't have to take this shit out on me all the time, 'Kuna!" You swiped away the spit that was dribbling from the corner of your mouth. "You were too rough this time."

"You've never complained about it before," he huffed with a roll of his eyes, his ignorance sending pangs of anger through your body.

"Can you take me seriously for once in your life? You hurt me, Sukuna." You muscled your body away from him, propping yourself up against the headboard. He stood, circling around to you before taking a seat next to you. You avoided his gaze, your stomach churning and head buzzing while you worked to quell your fear.

He watched as your chest heaved, eyes brimming with tears as you massaged your neck, your body twitching from the throbbing pulse in your abdomen while irritation prickled under your skin at his obvious indifference. Sukuna dipped down fast, catching your fallen tears on his tongue, a smug grin on his face as he pulled your hands away from your throat, holding them against his chest. A groan escaped him at the sight of the purple bruises in the shape of his fingertips decorating the delicate flesh of your throat, the look of your fucked out disposition turning him on once more. “I’ll be gentle…if you wanna try again,” he suggested, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Sukuna,” you warned, shooting daggers toward your pink haired boyfriend. “I’m being serious. It really hurt,” you whined. Your face contorted at his lack of compassion as you rubbed away the trail of spit he had left on your face, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest. He huffed before shifting closer to you. A heavy silence settled in the room as your breathing began to return to normal. 

"I...'m sorry," he grumbled, unsure of how to comfort you. It was the first time you’d ever used your safeword. His face was neutral, but confusion flooded his mind, knowing for certain that he’d been far rougher than that in the past. He thumbed the back of your hands before placing a kiss on each one. “I didn’t mean to hurt you… that bad,” he glanced at your face to make sure that comment didn’t upset you. “I thought you were enjoying it, didn’t know that when you said it hurt you actually meant it.” 

Your head shook side to side. To be fair, you usually said things like that to boost his ego, especially after he lost a game. The dirty talk exchanged between the two of you during one of your sessions was definitely…specific–not for the faint of heart. You sighed deeply as you worked to calm your nerves, the pain in your core subsiding. It was an honest misunderstanding. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long, either. 

“It’s okay,” you conceded, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss on his cheek, before pulling back, a coy smile on your face as you looked up at him. “Just listen to me next time, will ya?” A raspy “mhmm” vibrated through his chest as you curled your body against his. 

“Give me 20 and we can try again…but go easy on me.”

“No promises, doll.”

“Sukuna…”

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚

an took a break from my gamer!bf sukuna series n i forgot how much i enjoyed writing for him. sending a big thank you to the anon who requested this...i hope you enjoy my love.

also!! i'm almost at 500 followers??? thank you guys so much for your support on my writing...i literally cannot believe it! i love y'all sm xx

tag list @anxious-chick @call-memissbrightside @the-weeb-of-the-uchiha @youliveincassisworld

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #gamer!bf sukuna #bratbby333

[lets-try-some-writing]

Okay this is going to be super off topic but I had a random thought for the Mr. Pax au

So you know how June had a crush on Optimus? Imagine if June meets Mr. Pax and has a crush on him. Jack would be mortified and it would definitely make parent/teacher conferences a little bit awkward

Boy oh boy I bet it is awkward.

Previous post here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elita may have been new to Earth, but even she could see the way the human woman stared longingly at her Conjunx. Of course, the one called June was completely unaware of the fact that Mr. Pax the history teacher was in fact Optimus Prime, but for Elita, that made the whole affair more humorous. Optimus had politely refused to acknowledge the occasional comments about Jack's teacher and Elita knew it was not her place to interfere unless things became serious.

She and Optimus spoke about the issue and opted to let it be until it became necessary to dash June's affection. But of course, that time came sooner than expected when the time came for parent teacher conferences not too long after her arrival on Earth.

"Jack is aware of your identity. What do you plan to do?" Elita stood at her Conjunx's side as he worked at the console. He turned away from his work and met her gaze. He smiled faintly and his optics cycled wide like they used to before he became Prime.

"A gentle message will suffice." Optimus's field wrapped around her comfortingly, with the barest hint of mirth. Elita recognized the concoction of emotion and laughed outright as he all but read Optimus's mind.

Orion Pax had not been a comedic character, but he was particularly good at the higher caste surprises that always left a mech gaping. Political intrigue was not something he generally enjoyed, but he was a fantastic player and knew how to put on a show.

"Do you intend to reveal yourself as well?" Grasping Optimus's servo, Elita watched a coy grin play on his features. How long had it been since she'd seen her beloved have any sort of fun?

"Perhaps. It would certainly save us all a few uncomfortable situations." Optimus grinned like he was a young mech again. Elita couldn't help but laugh once more and lean against him. This was going to be amusing.

━━━━━━

Elita waited patiently outside of Optimus's office and listened as he discussed Jack's performance in class. She watched the events playing out on a handheld device the humans called a 'phone' with a slight grin. June Darby was professional throughout most of it, but as the meeting progressed and Jack seemed to shrink in on himself with every passing moment, June finally made her move as she packed up.

"Thank you for your time Mr. Pax. If you don't mind me asking, could I possibly have your number?" Elita had to bite back a laugh as she watched her Conjunx pause in putting Jack's files away. The poor boy in question seemed ready to explode as he caught sight of the glint in Optimus's eyes.

"I am afraid I can't do that." Optimus placed his papers down and Elita took the opportunity to step into the office, the 'phone' put away and out of the view.

"All done love?" Elita was quick to wrap her arms around her Conjunx's shoulders as he sat at his desk, smug as ever. Not that anyone except Elita would notice the possessive nature that remained hidden behind his Primely visage.

June looked like she'd been slapped in the face. Elita couldn't say she blamed the woman. June was familiar with Elita's holoform. In fact, it had been June who helped her design it. The fact that Elita was here and being so openly affectionate with 'Mr. Pax' had to be startling through implication alone.

"As you can see, I am quite taken with my darling wife as you humans say." Jack seemed to have given up on life as June processed the information. There was a brief moment where June seemed to have broken something in her processor before it finally clicked and she gripped the desk in shock.

"OPTIMUS?!?"

Yeah, waiting around had been worth it.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #jack darby #june darby #elita one #teacher au #mr pax and his darling wife are at it again #oplita #optimus x elita

[dumbseee]

prom queen, part two.

part one.

genre: fluff!

warnings: bad english/grammar :p / idk if it’s really good tbh but i wanted to post the last part because i know some people are waiting for it shsjskks <333

taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @tr-mha-fan <3

_

"what’s taking them so damn long…" bakugo sighed, slouching on the couch, hands in his pockets while he was eyeing the corridor for any signs of the girls of class 1-a. they all decided to get ready together in mina’s room and of course, took the longest time. "just be patient, bro! the wait will be worth it." kirishima winked at his friend while elbowing him in the ribs, making the blond bark at him. "i can’t wait to see them in their beautiful and short dresses." mineta almost drooled over sero, who was sitting next to him, the boy winced and pushed the grape boy away. bakugo’s ears perked up at his words. "i bet momo and y/n will look the best, they’re the sexiest girls of-…" he couldn’t even finish his sentence since bakugo sent him flying away with one blast. "kacchan!" midoriya jumped out of his seat, startled since he was sitting near the two. "he better keep y/n’s name out of his dirty mouth." he mumbled, glaring the spot mineta was sitting on a few seconds ago.

"sorry for keeping you waiting guys!" momo’s voice echoed in the living room, and slowly they all arrived, dressed in beautiful and fancy clothes, hair and makeup done. each girl, who had a partner, went straight to them, while the ones without one would just go to their friends. "you look so cool jiro!" kaminari basically had stars in his eyes while he was looking at jiro, who couldn’t stop blushing. "wow ochaco! you look splendid in that dress! it’s the one we picked out?" midoriya was smiling widely at his friend, the brunette stuttered an answer but nodded furiously. "you look really nice, momo." todoroki smiled at momo, she nodded and played with her hair. "same goes to you, todoroki."

you smiled, seeing all your friends being happy and ready to have fun. you felt a small tap on your shoulder, when you turned around and saw bakugo standing in front of you, a hand hiding in his back and a faint pink color decorating his cheeks, you smiled widely at him. "bakugo! you look good in that suit." you eyed him from head to toe and the blonde thought he was going to explode on the spot. he was burning up inside and he couldn’t stop from blushing at your compliment, he cleared his throat and shoved a freshly brought bouquet of red roses. he couldn’t look at you, so he looked at the ground. "i knew the dress would look good on you, but you exceeded my expectations." he finally locked eyes with you and your smiled slowly faded, bakugo was complimenting you, he brought you flowers and he brought you the dress you were wearing right now.

it was the night when he told you go to to prom with him, you had returned to your dorm only to find a huge box sitting on your bed. a small note was left on top of it and said, "mina told me you were still looking for a dress. i hope you’ll like it, pretty girl." was this a dream? bakugo katsuki, your longtime crush was really being this sweet to you? you fell asleep that night, with a huge smile on your face.

"thanks again, bakugo. this is literally my dream dress." you smiled, turning around, making the dress fly around your waist. bakugo watched you with a small smile on his lips. "i want you to call me katsuki." he offered you his arm for you to grab and you two left the dorms alongside the others to join the rest of the students, in the ballroom. your classmates, watching in awe how the two most oblivious person they know, finally getting together.

#katsuki bakugo mha #bnha bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #bakugou x fem!reader #mha x you #mha fluff #mha x reader #mha masterlist #mha fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia

[klutzyroses]

Sorry to bother I adored your panuck attack headcanons and was wondering plesse van you do it for the other suitor as well ? 🙏 Thank you Have a wonderful day 😍

I wasn't entirely sure which suitors you wanted in particular so I picked 4. Have a wonderful day~

IkeVamp HCs: Panic Attack pt.2

Suitors: Arthur, Isaac, Comte, Vlad

Arthur

As frivolous as one may have the impression he is, when the time really calls for it, he will step up.

When the woman started to get anxious, he picked up on it immediately. Being as observant as he was, he noticed the telltale signs.

Jittery movements, agitated breathing, flushed face, all the signs of an incoming breakdown. The mystery author has had anxious patients before, it was nothing all that foreign to him.

Stopping a panic attack as it begins is no easy feat, so he knows its better to either prevent it, or damage control.

He would gently guide her away and sit her on his lap, rubbing her arms as he whispered soothingly to her.

"Let's breathe luv. Deep breaths, there you, my darling..."

He cupped her face and encouraged her to focus on him. When she calmed, he praised her and made sure she was alright, having her drink something warm and keeping an eye on her mood afterwards.

He would basically be the best comfort.

Isaac

Okay...he is a bit hopeless here at first...

He genuinely felt at a loss when she started to hyperventilate and quivering, behaving like a cornered animal ready to attack and defend herself.

To be honest, he had half the mind to find Napoleon, he always knew what to do but...

He couldn't allow another man to take care of his woman.

So, to the best of his ability, he tried to handle the situation himself. He took her to his room and sat alone with her, holding her hand. He hoped the quiet place would sooth her frayed nerves, drawing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

He kept this up until her hand tightened around his, indicating she was regaining her control.

"Are you...okay now?"

He hesitated to tell her that seeing her like that had been scary, he had thought for a moment she was having a heart attack.

From then on, he would be just a tad more wary about things that could frighten or unsettle her.

Comte

He had seen so many tragedies, disasters, horrors that had jaded him to that sort of anxiety, to the point he nearly forgets that his cherie was not quite of the same metal.

When she started to fall apart, he reacted immediately, taking her in his arms when her legs gave out, shielding her in his embrace.

He had her listen to his calming voice, tenderly brushing her hair from her face as he pressed his forehead to hers, bring one of her hands to his lips.

His eyes never left her teary, wide ones as his presence started to ease her anxiety. Her vulnerability both hurt and touched him at once, feeling a surge of protectiveness.

"Mon diamant, your tears make my heart ache, tell me what can I do for you?"

Once he had her breathing calmly, he asked her if she wanted to leave, quick to comply when she says she does, cradling her to him as he wrapped her in his coat. As soon as they were at home, he has Sebastian make her a relaxing tea.

He would not leave her side until he knew she was completely at ease again.

Vlad

If he were to be honest, he himself was no longer familiar with the concept of panic and anxiety. Perhaps, after living so long, through the things he had, he was numb to that sort of thing.

That didn't mean that he wasn't quick to react when his love started to succumb to fear.

Trembling, whimpering, labored breathing, erratic movement.

Behavior that reminded him that his beloved was just a human being. She seemed to fragile and breakable.

Leaning down to her, he brushes her forehead, using his abilities to fill her mind with pleasant sceneries, flowery meadows and mesmerizing lakes, anywhere to take her mind away from what so frayed her nerves.

When she was calmer, he pressed his lips on her forehead.

"I am here, my flower, don't be afraid."

He would shower her with love long after the attack passed, simply because he felt she needed that extra bit of doting.

🌸

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp comte #ikevamp vlad #ikemen vampire headcanons #ikemen vampire hcs

[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

Tumblr Masterpost

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

[higgity-diggity-dummy]

These Strings That Bind Us

first chapter; previous chapter

So this is the first chapter of this fic that I’ve posted since a few of my irl friends have started following me and now they get to see the crazed fanfiction maniac I am and I don’t know if they’re ready.

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chapter 3:

Nico scanned the room he was left in. He knew logically that he was safe. That he was allowed to be… gay. And that the people that just overheard his conversation with Percy likely didn’t hate him for it.

They probably do hate you though. Even you can’t like yourself.

He just… didn’t like that knowledge to be floating around. 

It was then, after observing all the sleeping and uninterested patients that he saw the face of a particular blonde peering through a corner. 

“Hey. Sunshine. I see you.” Nico said trying to mask his worry. 

How long had he been there?

Will exhaled a laugh. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… stalk…? I was going to check up on you but you were talking with Percy and I did to want to interrupt.”

“How much did you overhear?” Nico asked, deciding to cut to the point. 

Will turned pinker. “Nothing! I swear I wasn’t trying to listen into your conversation. I was just watching,” he said getting redder. “I mean-! I wasn’t like ‘watching’ watching. But I was also not listening. I was just waiting for an opening is all. So I could check up on you. Because that’s what I’m here to do right now. Check up on you that is.”

Will snapped his mouth shut, trying to stop the word-vomit from getting worse. He had a flight-or-flight look in his eyes, as if how Nico responded would be the deciding factor in how this interaction went. He wished Will hadn’t stopped. He couldn’t pin down the exact reason why he liked hearing that incoherent mess of speech, but he did. It took a bit longer for him to realize that while he was brain was occupied by the rambling of the boy across from him, it was too full to waste energy on worrying. 

Nico tried -really tried- to think of something comforting or cringe-reducing to say but he could help it when a laugh slipped out. 

And another. And one more. And five seconds later he was miserably failing to stifle his giggles with his left hand. 

“Wha-“ Will started. “What is it? Are you ok?Did one of my siblings but you on laughing gas or something? It was Kayla wasn’t it?!”

This made Nico laugh even harder. “Oh gods no. You’re just really weird. In a good way. You kept on saying more and it made it get worse and worse.” He laughed again. “Thank you for that. Holy hades I needed a good laugh.”

Will didn’t even flinch when Nico described his little speech as pathetic. If anything, it seemed to make him more confident. Composed. “Well I’m glad you feel joy at my expense,” he said rolling his eyes. “And you have a pretty laugh too. I like hearing it.” He smiled at Nico, his gaze moving to the glow between them. 

Oh right. 

Stop getting comfortable. Especially with him. 

Nico shifted in his seat, moving so his arms are crossed with his left ring-finger covered by his arm. He failed to avert his gaze from Will’s disappointed eyes. 

See? Even if it weren’t wrong, you could never be with him. You fail everybody, and Will is no different. 

A few beats of silence. 

“So uh… checkup?” Nico suggested. 

“Yes! Right. Let me just…” he trailed off. Something about clipboards and procedures that Nico did not have to energy nor interest to pay attention to. 

Will got the information he needed. Apparently a lot of Nico’s story was already in the documents.

“Like I said: I know your history,” Will stated with faux-intimidation. Nico rolled his eyes. 

When they got to the physical checkup Nico started getting jittery. He felt awkward saying something to Will about it, but he really didn’t like being touched so much. Especially because Will’s hands were so… methodical. It was bringing him back. 

To the times of your torment? Good. Revel in it. In the feeling of pain. Relive it all. Maybe if you look tortured enough somebody will even pity you. Why do you think you want that so badly? You know how hard it is to be yourself. Trying to share that burden with somebody else is plain selfish. 

Will noticed. Probably. He didn’t point it out, but he tried to lighten the mood, albeit with terrible references to things Nico did not have the current cultural knowledge to understand. 

Something about Nico being “Mr. Perfectly Fine” when asked about he was feeling. Or responding to Nico’s remarks about his werewolf scratches with saying, “oh! ‘Tis but a flesh wound I see!” (He seemed really proud of himself with that one). And he kept calling Nico a “padawan”?  What even was that?

Yet, despite the utter confusion that had overtaken Nico, it was a good distraction. Will had or hadn’t brought a laugh out of him a couple of times. Nico was or was not starting to feel a lot more comfortable, especially with Will around. 

And the string they shared absolutely was not glowing more warmly with each passing moment they spent together.  Of course not. Never. 

~~~

After that checkup, Nico offered to help around the infirmary. He did this, of course, hoping that his complete lack of any medical knowledge and “aura of death” would be enough for Will to refuse the offer.

He did not. 

Figures. 

What Will did do however, was introduce anyone and everyone imaginable to Nico. Whether that be random patients, his siblings, his Roman siblings that he (being the social-magnet-golden-retriever that he was) had gotten close with after the war, or some poor soul that happened to be within the vicinity of the two of them. It was weird. Nico didn’t know how to feel. Nobody had treated him like a person they could show others to. He was usually hidden away. Chose to keep himself hidden away. 

Nico was starting to like being seen though. It helped that Will was there too. Unlocking the prison of isolation Nico had made for himself and dragging him into interactions when they were in the middle of filing paperwork. When he introduced Nico to a new person, he almost sounded proud. Like knowing Nico was something they could envy about Will. 

“Oh hey [person] have you met my friend Nico?” Will would say. “Yeah he’s the coolest kid in camp! Go on Nico say hi,” pride radiating from his voice. “We met a few days ago when he almost stabbed me haha. He really saved my skin out there. Even if he was seconds away from passing out while doing it.”

Nico would never admit it, but he kind of liked the attention Will was giving him. It was as if Will’s words of affirmation were able to fight off the self-doubt demons would otherwise occupy much of Nico’s thoughts. 

Not only that, but he also liked meeting people. 

Yes. Him. Nico di Angelo. The son of Hades. Well known social recluse. Enjoying the communion of others. 

Was that new? He thought he was an introvert to the core. The idea of people was supposed to make him want to hide under a rock a perish. Was it just that he was so much of a social outcast that he fooled himself into thinking that?

Dear gods, he was not going to spend the time going down that rabbit hole any further. 

Nico felt a tug on his string finger. Will had started doing that in order to touch Nico without touching him. Nico hadn’t decided yet how he felt about it. Well, his heart obviously had, but he’s choosing to ignore that stubborn organ in all matters pertaining to Will. He looked up, slowly bringing himself back to reality. 

Back to the storage/office room they were (as Will had put it) “chillin’” in. Back to the smell of antiseptic spray and old files. Back to the blonde idiot staring into his soul, seemingly trying to solve a puzzle. 

“…what?” Nico broke the silence. 

Will stared for a beat longer. “You were staring off into space for a while. Are you ok?”

He thought for a moment too long. 

“Yes,” was the response Nico decided on. 

Will stared even deeper with a curious look. “…ok… sure. What were you thinking about then?”

Nico was just about to bark out a basic response of “oh nothing”, or something like that, but he stopped himself. He didn’t need to hold himself back. Not when Will was looking at him in that eager and open way that he does. 

“I was thinking about how much in my life has changed,” since you entered into it, “in the past few days.”

Maybe he didn’t say the whole truth, but Will was enough to make him no outright lie. 

“Really?” Will backed off some, face turning from questioning frown to genuine smile. “How so?”

Oh. So this was gonna be some cheesy heart-to-heart, was it? Nico was not opposed to that idea. He looked back up at Will’s bright expectant eyes. 

He actually rather liked the idea.

He talked to Will. He was trying to keep it short (Will was always busy) but the more he talked, the more they kept talking. And talking. And talking. Somehow they moved from life the last few days to life in the past few years. Family, in all possible definitions of the word. Friends, in all their shades, hues, and complexities. Enemies, in all their surprising humanity. 

Will’s voice changed depending on what he was saying. He slurred together his words when they were talking about old interests. He would pause or stutter when they transitioned to deep topics, and slowed down when they got comfortable there. His voice got all jittery and slightly more high pitched when he was excited about something. 

And the way he listened… the way it felt like he hung onto every word Nico said like it was written in scripture…

Nico kept wondering when Will would leave. He would find some excuse about having to check up on a patient, or outright say he didn’t want to stay there. 

Wouldn’t want to stay with you. Why would anyone want to spend time with you. You’re boring him and he will leave you—

But Will hasn’t left. How long has they been there? They sat down on a nearby desk a while ago. Will was still with him. 

Will, talking about his mom and how much he misses her. Will, listening to Nico’s stories of his childhood in Italy. Will, leaning into the beats of silence that would occasionally fall between them with a rare comfort. Will, inching closer to Nico with each passing second. Will, making their string glow impossibly brighter with the effect he had on Nico. Will, coiling the string around his fingers until there was no space between his and Nico’s hands. Will, cutting himself off mid-sentence just to graze Nico’s hand. 

Will. Will. Will. 

How long had it been? It was dark outside. Not that Nico cared. In the moment all that Nico cared about was right by his side, chatting animatedly, listening with care, leaning against Nico as he got more tired. Nico couldn’t imagine falling asleep now. His heart was beating so fast one would think he was about to be killed by some monster. 

For some reason this moment felt more important than any of those past life-or-death experiences. He was safe. Nobody was in danger. But all those times he was fighting to live. Now he’s living to be alive. 

With Will. 

He looked over at the boy now resting on his shoulder and smiles. His mouth slightly open and he’s just barely snoring. It’s adorable. Nico’s heart warms with affection. 

Affection. He liked using that word in this moment. He smiled. 

He liked using that word for Will. 

~~~

The Apollo Cabin did not cut him any slack when he brought a sleeping Will back in a bridal carry late into the night.

~~~

“Hey! It’s Mr. Perfectly Fine!” Will exclaimed to his siblings when Nico had entered the infirmary office. 

Nico had caught a glimpse of Will hunched over his desk, with an exhausted expression written on his face just as Nico had walked in. It seemed like he was talking to his siblings, Kayla and Austin, about how he can “totally handle all this work” and that he’s “not burnt out”. They however, were willing to drop that conversation to snicker at Nico regarding whatever it was Will had just said. 

“Seriously? You have no other jokes,” Nico retorted. “What is that referencing? I’m convinced you’re making it up at this point.”

“Oh please, at this point it’s your fault for not being a part of the Taylor Nation,” Kayla chimed in. 

“I’ve been here for two days!”

Kayla crossed her arms. “That’s two whole days of Taylor Swift that you could have been listening to.”

Nico rolled his eyes and looked to Austin, the one person left who hadn’t taken a side against him.

“What?” He responded. “They’re right. All the effort you’ve made to avoid Taylor Swift is really some Kanye behavior.”

Nico hated his past self. Why did he decide to start hanging out with the Apollo Cabin? They were one mess of snarky comebacks joined together by their obsession over various musicians. 

“I’ve been helping out! Would you really rather have me be wasting oxygen while listening to Swift?” Nico asked the cohesive mass. 

“Yes!” They all shouted in (a partially harmonized) unison. 

Nico groaned and sat on the chair he had placed next to Will’s desk the last time he was in this office. He’s only been here for three days and yet he has a spot for him. Next to Will. 

The siblings talked about some infirmary stuff. Work schedules, post-war stuff, some new Roman ailments they learned about. Nico tuned it out, picking at his hangnails. 

Some time later, the door Nico had just come through slammed open with an uninterested Drew Tanaka on the other end. 

“Hey shitheads! I need drugs!” She said. 

Nico raised an eyebrow at her and turned to look at Will, hoping he would translate. 

Without looking up from his desk, Will rolled his eyes and said, “Sweet baby Zeus, can’t you just say ibuprofen like a normal person?”

He pushed back on his chair to get up, but Kayla pushed him right back. 

“Nuh-uh. I’ve got this. You stay here and take a break with your,” she looked at Nico, “dude-best-friend.” She winked at him.  

She headed out the door, with Drew on her heels. 

The three left in the room looked at each other. A silent conversation played out between Will and Austin that lasted for much longer than a silent conversation has any right to last. Nico was glad to not be involved in it, whatever it was. 

Austin sighed. “I guess I’ll go with them to make sure they don’t blow anything up.” 

“Again,” Will added. 

With a quick finger-gun-snap to his brother, Austin left. 

The door creaked it as it closed. 

“Wait,” Nico put his elbows on the desk. “How many explosions have they caused?” He thought for a second. “How do they even cause explosions to happen?”

He waits for a second more. Will is writing something down. Nico probably shouldn’t have interrupted by talking. He needed to be more conscious about his actions. Especially now that he is friends with Will. What was it Kayla said? “Dude-best-friend”? Yeah. He needed to be a better dude-best-friend. Not that they were “best friends”. It was probably just some slang or something. If they were even considered to be best-

Thunk. 

Will face-planted onto his desk. 

“Shit.” How long had he been working? “Are you ok?” 

Will held up a hand to give a thumbs-up before dropping it back down to his desk. Will started snoring. 

Nico knew there was a right way to react to this. Will probably had the answer for him. But Nico couldn’t find it in himself to do anything but stare. Stare and think. Like he was moving in slow motion but the rest of the world wasn’t kind enough to take note.

Was this normal for Will? Did he just collapse at his desk from time to time? No. He was always preaching his gospel of “taking care of yourself” and whatnot. This had to be a one-off thing. 

He’s probably fine, right? Sure, he’s probably a little bit burnt out, but it’s not life and death or anything. 

Yeah good idea. Bury your problems. Maybe one day you’ll share a grave with them.

How could he even think like that? “Not life and death,” so many things are not life and death but they are still worth worrying about. 

Nico is a terrible friend. He needs to be worrying more about Will. Will needs help. 

And how the hell do you expect to help him? Name one time you weren’t a burden to somebody. Every time you try to do something it fails. Just stop. 

Gods. He was pathetic. His friend was passed out in front of him, and he was standing there, frozen. He should do something. He needed to do something. He just. He- he had to-

You always let people down. You’re too pitiful to help anyone. 

No! He could help! 

Will laid there fully unaware of the warfare happening in Nico’s mind. Someone looking in would likely find his state of rest to look peaceful. He was just a tired kid doctor in a tiny room filled with papers and files. 

Outside that room was a couple of teenagers bickering about ibuprofen and explosives. It was a conversation severely lacking in context for the onlookers not in said conversation. 

Even further beyond there were children doing dangerous and mundane activities. Somewhere a kid first encountered a monster. A man proposed to his girlfriend to the joy of an entire restaurant. A man proposed to his boyfriend to the shock, disgust, and joy of a small park. A child wrote a letter that never got read to her father fighting in a war. A species that was never discovered went extinct. A group of teenagers got high on the roof of a parking lot. A tired mother decided to quit smoking for the third time that year. A grandparent met their first grandson. 

And back in that small room with too much paper and a sleeping boy, a damaged kid sees nothing but the worst of it. 

Nico’s mind is a tunnel with no light at the end; flashing horrors crowding it out and letting no logic or hope in. 

This was life-or-death. If Nico didn’t do something, he would be responsible for whatever happened to Will. 

Will would know what to do. If Nico just knew Will better. If he just payed a bit more attention while Will worked. He must have been a terrible friend, having not cared enough to know how to handle this. 

Finally, something you’re right about. 

Gods! How could he even be drowning in this self pity now? Will needed help. He needed… caffeine? An intervention? He needed something and Nico needed to help. He could help. He needed to help. He needed-

His hand met a warmth. He looked down to see his and Will’s hands touching. Nico didn’t know when he started reaching for his hand. He let it sit there for a few beats of tense, heavy, warm silence. 

His fingers moved without his consent to gently coil their string. 

People say that, for soulmates, strings are able to pass emotions. The way one touches their string and the feeling they have while holding it are felt by the person on the other side. 

Nico could… send some comfort? The thoughts would have made him laugh in any other circumstance. Him. Being the bringer of comfort. But in this instance, he could. There wasn’t anything else he coulddo. 

No you cannot. You will lead yourself to heartbreak. 

Will groaned. Nico flinched. 

His hand twitched to reach out. To let Will know that “I’m here”. That “you can talk to me”. 

You can’t do that. 

He couldn’t do that though. 

You don’t know how to comfort people. 

He didn’t even know how to comfort people. 

Just look in front of you, you let this happen under your watch. 

He’d let this happen. 

And here you are thinking to yourself instead of doing anything. 

Gods! He just needed to focus. Think of some solution.

Just think! Just think! Just think! Just-

A door opened and Nico’s throat dropped, feeling like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have done. Which was stupid. He knew that. 

He uselessly held his hands up and backed up, turning to the door. His body was frozen as thoughts of the thousands of ways the next few seconds could go all competed for his attention. He was a deer in the headlights, weakly looking past the person who was on the other end of the door. They looked at the scene in the room and raised an eyebrow.

“Nico? What happened?” Austin asked. 

Austin! Thank the gods! He can-

“Help.” Nico creaked. “I don’t know what happened. Will, he…” Nico cut himself off. His throat was so choked up it was barely letting him say anything. It hurt. He didn’t realize he was this close to tears. 

Fucking baby. 

Austin rushed to his brother’s side and after a few moments sighed a breath of relief. “He’s fine. Just exhausted.” He took a few moments to give Nico a worried look. “Are you fine?”

Nico couldn’t respond. His body was still in fight-or-flight mode. He could only hear the pounding of his heartbeat, so strong it was like it was coming directly from his ears. There was to much happening. He just needed to calm down. He also had to respond. He had to look normal. He had to help with- 

“Everything is fine.” The mantra he repeated in his mind. “He’s just exhausted. He’s ok. I’m ok.” 

No you’re not. No he’s not. 

Austin just confirmed that there was nothing to worry about.

You just don’t care enough about Will to keep worrying for him. 

“I’m ok,” he finally responded, voice even more shaky. 

Austin made a doubtful look and walked over to a shelf, pulling out some ball. He handed it to Nico, placing it in a hand he had not realized was shaking until then. He squeezed it and it was cushiony, but firm. 

“Breathe with me,” Austin said simply. 

And they breathed together. Slowly in.  Holding it. Slowly out. Holding it. 

After a minute or so he asked “would you mind if I brought Kayla here too?”

Shrugging, Nico lied. “I don’t mind. I’m fine really.” Although he didn’t know why he was still trying. 

“No, you’re not.”

Austin steps out of the room and sticks his head out the door, peering down the corridor. “Kayla!”

Nico heard a muffled, “What?! I’m busy!”

Again shouting back, “Just come over here please!”

Some shuffling. Some footsteps. “What’s up?”

Austin stepped aside and let her view the scene. Her eyes softened and she walked over towards where Nico stayed standing. 

“Oh Gods Nico, what’s wrong?” She asked him. 

He tried for a dry laugh. “Nononono I’m fine. I was just a little-“ he choked. He hopelessly tried to steady his voice. “Just a little worried for Will is all.”

Kayla’s eyes immediately went wide with panic at the mention of his brother’s name. “What happened? Is he ok?” She looked over to his desk. 

Austin stepped up to his sister, putting a hand on her arm. “He’s alright Kay. Just a little exhausted,” he said. They looked like they were having a silent conversation for a moment after that ended when they both looked back at Nico. 

“Do you want to sit and talk for a bit?” Austin eventually asked. 

“It doesn’t have to be about anything important,” Kayla added. “Or anything at all. Like, if you need silence with company we got you. Or silence without company. Or company without silence. Or any other combination. Or some other secret option. Or-“

“Company without silence is just the first choice you said,” Austin interrupted

Kayla thought for a second. “It is, isn’t it? It feels like there should be more combinations of those words though.”

“No company with no silence.”

“Ok but does that actually make any sense? Unless you talk to yourself professionally you wouldn’t be alone and without silence.”

“I would say that I can be alone without silence. I’m an interesting guy, I have fun talking to myself.”

“Yeah well, you’re just lonely so-“

A laugh escaped from Nico. They both looked at him. 

“Sorry,” he said, for once with a steady voice. “The way you guys talk to each other is really funny to watch.” It reminded him of how he was with Bianca when they were younger. They used to argue all the time, sometimes escalating into screaming matches. Their mother would always step in and say something wise and meaningful that completely went over Nico and his sister’s heads. If Bianca were both alive now, would it be like this? Would their arguments not be out of malice but sibling love? What would that have looked like with them?

Kayla rested an arm on her brother’s shoulder as he looked at her with fake disgust. “We are, aren’t we?” She asked him. 

“I really don’t think you’re ‘funny’. If anything funny looking.”

Kayla walked over to a circular table and sat down. “Oh please. I’m the hottest sibling. No contest.”

Austin followed her, taking a seat for himself. “If that’s what you want to believe, I will let you continue living with that lie.”

Kayla scoffed and looked back at Nico. “Wanna join the order of the round table?”

Yes. 

“I uh… Are you sure it won’t get in the way of,” he waved his hand around at the general vicinity, “infirmary duties?”

“Not really,” Austin answers. “We did rounds this morning and everybody just needs more time to heal with the meds and magic,” which he embellished with spirit fingers, “and we already gave them their afternoon doses. Unless there’s some random emergency-“

“Or Drew comes back demanding drugs again,” Kayla added. 

“Or that, then we’re just chilling.”

Nico wanted to say yes.

Don’t fool yourself kid. They don’t want you there. You’re just being a burden. They seem to be having a great time without-

Nico squeezed the ball. He moved to the table. He smiled and they smiled back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author’s Note:

thank you so much for reading!! To that one person who commented on my last fic saying they needed more: thank you specificially. And I’m sorry specifically for you because the wait for the next one is going to be worse than a cartoon hiatus. Tho I’m actually going to be spending that time writing instead of feeling guilty for not writing to that’s a win. also I have an Ao3 now so that’s cool

#solangelo #pjo #nico di angelo #percy jackson #will solace #solangelo fics

[gotchibam]

Commissioned piece for Griffin!

Check out my commissions page if you want one! ✨

#artists on tumblr #pokemon #slakoth #slowpoke #commissions #commissioned piece #gotchibam arts #sorry this took so long!! #thank u for being patient w/ me ;w;

[thewastelandlosers]

Your art style is super cute, I love Jeremy he's so silly. If you're open for requests could you please draw Lily Bowen or Arcade Gannon from Fo:NV? Thank you and have a lovely day/night!

Decided to go for both Lily and Arcade! Also thank you so much <3 Arcade got in trouble for being a smarty-ass and so got put on Bighorner helper duty

#thank you so much for being patient ;w; took me way to long to get this done lol #decided to add in a lil mean boi in the corner uwu #fallout nv #fallout nv art #arcade gannon #lily bowen #fallout arcade #fallout lily #fallout fanart #fallout nv fanart

[burst-of-iridescent]

so i just went through your entire anti-lok tag and everything you said in it was SO WELL WRITTEN. i wanted to ask if you might have any analyses or anything (or just good old rants! we love being bryke haters) - about something that i noticed, which is this sort of... ATLA/TLOK dichotomy between how all aang's villains seem to be focused on gaining power/dominating the world or whatever, but the villains in TLOK seem to revolve around very pointed targeting of korra and specifically stripping her of her agency/bodily autonomy, but i don't know how to expand on that point.

(idk just. TLOK has a whole list of scenes that make me VIOLENTLY uncomfortable in a way even the worst of ATLA doesn't? and i thought you might have some input to share about it, if you don't mind me asking)

thank you sm!! i'm glad you enjoy my lok and bryke salt <33

i know what you mean, because it's something that struck me when i was watching lok as well. korra's villains are far more personal to her (particularly in what they do to her, or want from her) than azula or ozai or even zhao ever were to aang, and while that isn't necessarily a bad thing (in fact it can often be good to have a personal relationship between your hero and villain; just look at how much more impactful and meaningful zuko and azula's arc was compared to aang and ozai's), there is a way to do it right and that was... not what bryke did.

we didn't need to see korra brutally bloodbent and stripped of her bending, or brutally attacked by unalaq, or brutally tortured by the red lotus or - you got it - brutally beaten up by kuvira (over and over again, might i add). i'm not saying that violence never has its place in storytelling, but it needs to have an actual purpose that's not just shock value. atla, for instance, knew when and how to utilise violence: the sight of gyatso's skeleton in the southern air temple, aang's murder by azula, even katara bloodbending... the violence in all of those scenes was necessary either to communicate vital information to the audience, or drive home the emotive and narrative significance of the moment, or both.

in lok though, bryke hardly, if ever, achieved either of these objectives - especially because it was mainly only ever korra who got the brunt of the violence. no other character is repeatedly targeted and assaulted and violated even half as much as korra is, even when they're facing the same antagonists. tenzin's fight against the red lotus in book 3 gets a tasteful pan to black (one of the few times i think bryke did use violence purposefully; knowing what not to show is just as important as knowing what to show, and leaving the audience with the dread of tenzin's fate was actually sadder and more terrifying than letting us see what happened to him) but korra's agonizing torture at the hands of the red lotus is so long and drawn-out that it begins to veer into torture porn.

imo, this can probably be attributed to two things: 1) bry.ke thinking trauma = character development because they don't know how else to write a good character arc (and they still somehow fucked it up - i will never forgive them for making korra thank zaheer, of all people, for helping her overcome her trauma, like what the absolute fuck bry.ke), and 2) they wanted lok to be "more mature" than atla, which shows both that they fundamentally didn't understand atla, or what constitutes good storytelling, and also that someone desperately needs to tell them that simply upping the violence and hamfistedly handling "complex" topics does not maturity make.

(given the way bryke has written women, i also have to side-eye the fact that the strong-willed, independent, brown female protagonist is beaten and battered and torn down far more than the peaceful, affable light-skinned male protagonist ever is, even during an actual war.)

and of course, contrary to what our dear bryke probably expected, simply brutalizing korra season after season in the name of shock value and development did not, to anyone else's surprise, make lok the better show in the end.

#anti lok #anti bryke #apologies for how long it took me to get to this ask! thank you for being so patient <3 #as an aside i see your tags and comments on my posts a lot and i always love reading them #please feel free to let me know more of your thoughts anytime! <3

[robanilla-arts]

gwuh,,, fairy ccinomare,,, fluffy fairy ccino/latte and passive nightmare being snuggled by the fluffy boy 🥺

-saccharo

Hey bud. I know you probably won't see this anymore, but on the off chance you do, I hope you're doing alright. Thank you for sharing your joy with me. Every time I see a sea slug on my dash, I keep wanting to send it to you...

It was nice knowing you 💛

#robanilla-arts #my art #i love them your honor #rob answers #saccharo #sacchar111ne #rare pair #? kinda... #latte (ccino sans) #passive nightmare sans #i really hope you're okay #i know you deleted all your socials. but on the off chance you're peaking back in at some point... #i saved the dress reference for your fairy au and used it for latte's dress here #very cute #the wings took me longer than they should have lmao #sorry it took so long #I have a weird thing where like. i have to go in order #but the goal IS to get through the entire ask box #its going to happen. thank you all for being patient with me ^^

[nitroish]

yet another commission for the wonderful @destructokats , based directly on a chapter from their fic ! <- link directs to the chapter in question

#linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu legend #commission #2022 art tag #2023 art tag #tw blood #started this months ago in 2022 and just finished it now in 2023 . thank you kat for being so patient with me #ignore the writing where i took notes of the commission information #i forgot to hide it before saving how embarrassing JSFHGDG #the drawing took ten minutes to load into tumblr via my computer cos bad wifi is a curse so i dont feel like . redoing that actually #they were so kind as to let me use my legend design for this piece #and it Will happen again #as long as they are welcome to it #id bite the shit out of legend too but poor wars . poor fucking warriors . the poor thing . . . #read the fic to find out why hes so pitiful

[vaporvipermedia]

I'm here to ask about the girlies. How do you think they would get along with Yuuta? >:3

Damn…I guess Yuuta has three sisters now lmao

Yuuta & Mitzy

[Dynamic]: The youngest sibling who adores attention and the elder who continually gives it to them. They both boost each other's egos. Whether it's complimenting their style or simply feeling confident that day. I can picture these two chatting about someone they don't like at the same time. And they would do it...ACCURATELY. If someone gets on their nerves that day, they are spilling to each other immediately. Over text or call it does not matter.😭

Actually, Mitzy would probably run over to Ramshackle to go and gossip. Out of breath and everything saying “Bitch you would not believe what just happened.”

And start ranting that whole night with the prefect.

Unfortunately, Yuuta will also be subjected to Mitzy’s fashion and makeup styling. Poor thang…consider yourself yassified.

Inside her journal, Mitzy would have an astrology-themed page spread for Yuuta. Everything is star-themed, including the glitter. All to express her feelings for a friend of hers. 

Yuuta & Grace

[Dynamic]: The eldest who checks up on the middle child whenever they look lonely or left out. To be honest, Yuuta would be the perfect person to help hone Grace’s potion making. I can see them doing experiment tests in an empty alchemy room to do some good practice. Grace would be flipping through an ingredient book holding a beaker with shaky meanwhile Yuuta is next to a fire extinguisher if anything happens.

Although Yuuta is supportive of Grace, the possibility of her experiment going wrong is very high. But hey they’re still cheering from the sidelines!

In conclusion, these two should have a friend picnic with a tarot themed tea set [or a bunny tea set if Leona gave her the idea. Probably saying that “Oh yeah they would love that.” With the most fakest smile in existence to trick Grace into buying it 💀]

Yuuta & Coco

[Dynamic]: The two eldest that bond over being older and are both chill as fuck. Since both Yuuta and Coco are into herbalism I can see them being medicine making buddies together. [My brain just had a cursed image of Coco and Yuuta cooking meth like Walter and Jessie…I’m so sorry.💀] Taking care of the people they love most by healing them. Their simple way of showing affection to others.

In a way, Coco would be very trusting of Yuuta. So much that she’ll just ask them to just keep an eye on her sisters to make sure they don’t end up in a heap load of trouble.

Coco: Hey, can you watch the girls real quick?

Yuuta: Yeah sure I don’t mind-

Mitzy: MY COMPACT WENT MISSING! WHO WENT THROUGH MY STUFF!?

Grace: I ACCIDENTALLY CREATED AN  ARMY OF TINY SLUDGE MONSTERS IN THE ALCHEMY ROOM!

Yuuta: Uhh actually I think I’m going to be busy…wait huh? Coco, where did you go!?

She disappeared

The girl loves her sisters but she has her limits. Good Luck Yuuta!

#sorry this took so long #thank you for being patient with me! #twst oc #oc #yuuta midori #twst mitzy #twst grace #twst coco #LAST ASK COMPLETE LETS GO! #the sirens #oc interaction #viper answers

[go6jo]

Hiii, I really love your writing style and my fav is Geto and im libra sun and moon and aquarius rising

the sight of you in suguru’s bed is an unfamiliar yet thrilling one - he remembers imagining what you’d look like lying on his sheets, the image of you stuck inside his head, a picture perfect scenario that didnt exist beyond the realm of his imagination, like a mirage.

“suguru, look at the colours” seated on the edge of the bed, you point towards the window of his bedroom into the 6 a.m sky, the rising sun painting it in the most beautiful colours. you hadn’t slept, none of you could - not with the excitement of two lovers sharing a bed for the first time.

his eyes bore into the exposed skin of your back and reality reveals itself to be so much better than what he’d dreamed of. he’d been a fool to think that the you of his dreams could ever compare to the real you. the you that he can touch. the you that he can feel - the you that he can love on.

he lets his gaze roam down the length of your neck, the slope of your delicate shoulder then lower to the heavenly curve where your waist meets your hips. he wants to reach out to touch it.

“suguru?” you look behind you to find a lovestruck man, laying in bed with his hair sprawled on his pillow, a fond smile on his face. you wonder if he even listened. “don’t look at me, look at the sky.”

“i can watch the sunrise whenever i want” he sits up to bury his face in the crook of your neck, arms circling your waist in the process. “its not everyday that i get to see you like this, though.”

and he could look outside, he would. but he can’t seem to look away when everything he has ever wanted is sitting pretty in bed with him.

#this took me so long i hope you get to see this sweet anon <3 #thank you for being so patient !!

[reanimated-owl-moved]

Henlo! :} could I request 🌹 for my oc Vivienne you don’t have to though. I just wish to hear people’s thoughts c:

🌹 = my opinion on your character

((It seems pretty clear to me that you put a lot of effort into their design! The coloring reminds me of a snowy owl (I don’t know if that was your intention but I just. know a lot about birds) :}

I also did look around your tag for them- I think their backstory (from what I gathered at least, so perhaps I’m wrong) is tragic, but interesting nonetheless. They’re a pretty cool character :)

#ooc #asks #((sorry it took me so long to get to this;; thank you for being patient!!

[gotchibam]

Commissioned piece for mihai!

#artists on tumblr #pokemon #espeon #commissions #commissioned piece #gotchibam arts #thank you sm for being patient w/ me!! ;w; #sorry this took so long ;_; #currently trying my best to finish the last 4 commissions!

[jazhand]

1, 6, 9 and 15 for the interview with Josephine? ✨

1. Please state your full name and occupation. - “My name’s Josephine Williams, I’m a farmer and an adventurer.” 6. Are you introverted or extroverted? Why? - “I’d say I’m pretty extroverted.  I mean, I like people.  I like having some quiet time too, though, so maybe i’m a little introverted.  But for the most part I’m extroverted.” 9. What’s your greatest achievement? Why do you consider this your greatest achievement? - “Probably getting Shane to go to therapy.  As far as tangible good for another person, that’s gotta be pretty damn close to the top of the list, so I’d probably consider it my greatest achievement for that reason.” 15. Who is the most important person in your life? Why? - “Probably my husband, Lance.  I mean, he’s my husband, so of course… But there are other important people in my life, and he knows that.  He doesn’t get jealous or anything, we trust each other.”

#farmer josephine #i'm sorry this took me so long to get to #thank you for being patient <3