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vixstarria · 7 months

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"Where my nice, simple plan fell apart"

This is my take on how Astarion’s romance might have progressed with a silly, chaotic energy bard Tav, who doesn’t really fall for his initial manipulation but rather humours it, throughout Act 1.

There will be more – I want to flesh this out and write more ‘behind the scenes’ moments, and continue this into Acts 2 and 3 (I’m still only at the beginning of Act 2 as I write this!)

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav

Comfort, fluff, budding love, cuddling, humour, no spoilers, non-explicit, light angst

Approximately 2,000 words.

~~~~~

“Let’s find our own little piece of nowhere. Somewhere we can lose ourselves and forget all this madness.”

“Astarion, you insufferable trollop, what piece of cheap pulp did you fish that line from?!” you squeezed your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No, wait, let me guess... Madame Scarlett?”

You watched his face turn from indignation to irritation, to finally settle in a resigned amusement, in a rapid succession.

“My, a fellow connoisseur of the vulgar arts? The Madame’s been dead and out of print for over a century. But yes.”

“A professional interest – a bard must be able to entertain all kinds of audiences, with all kinds of material”

“And would you indulge me with your expertise tonight? But I do much prefer show to tell...”.

This was the beginning. You did end up sleeping with him that night, despite his initial soppy attempt at seduction. And then it happened again another night. And then it kept happening...

You tried to be discreet about it at first, but of course it wasn’t long before the other members of your party noticed your nightly disappearances, and there was no point trying to conceal it.

You were vexed by their reactions – just about everyone found it necessary to at one point pull you aside and express their concerns about the vampire, asking you to be careful. This was, perhaps, justifiable – Astarion was admittedly quite stab-happy and had an inclination for bloodthirst (literally and figuratively). But he was on your side! And damned if you needed anyone’s approval for your choices in whom to bed!

By that point you and Astarion had turned the cliched language of poorly written erotica novels into an inside joke. Casually addressing each other in increasingly mawkish and over-elaborate terms had turned into a game. Once the secret of your escapades was out, you weaponised this game, turning it to deliberately exasperate everyone around you with your antics.

With your shared penchant for dramatic flair the two of you became utterly insufferable.

You would shout corny names at each other across camp:

“Oh precious, it’s your turn to set up the campfire! And no, I don’t care that you won’t be eating with us” you called out as the group stopped for the day to set up camp, but no answer followed. “My silver lynx..? Starry?? Snickerdoodle??”

“Your snickerdoodle wandered off to slaughter another bear!” came an exasperated shout from Wyll.

Strangers weren’t safe from your hijinks either:

“My sun, my beating heart, flame of my loins, ache of my head. All my riches, at your feet”, he declaimed to you in front of a confused and embarrassed vendor, as he rummaged through and shook out his pockets and sleeves, spilling an assortment of semi-precious gems, silver cutlery and somehow even an entire silver tray, pilfered from an abandoned manor you came across earlier.

Just to make the others uncomfortable, you would unceremoniously plop into Astarion’s lap at any given opportunity, including in your morning meetings to establish your itinerary for the day.

One evening, as you all sat around the campfire to enjoy a shared meal, Astarion (who would ordinarily stay away during this time, or sit nearby with a book) sank down next to you, lifted your hand towards his mouth, and nonchalantly sank his fangs into your wrist and began to suck, slurping.

“Oh, so I can’t enjoy a nice meal with everyone else, and have to be excluded? Bigots, the lot of you!” he chided, your blood dripping from his lips, to the sound of everyone’s shouts of shocked revulsion. Surprisingly, this was the closest you’d ever seen Lae’zel come to laughing.

(You and Astarion had arranged this prior, of course. Ever the gentleman, he always asked before he bit.)

Another night, as you were having a quiet chat with Shadowheart at her tent, while everyone else lounged at the fire, she asked: “So what is it like with him, really..? How is he?”

Suddenly finding yourself abashed by this genuinely intimate question, you covered it up with pomp and bravado. Winking at Shadowheart, you stood up, threw your head back and began to orate, making sure your thundering voice would be heard by the fire, which you had been separated from by a distance and some bushes:

“HIS MAGESTIC MANHOOD, WHEN UNSHEATHED, IS AN OBELISC OF MASCULINITY AND GLORY. IT IS A WONDER BIRDS DON’T CRASH INTO IT WHEN IT IS FULLY E- Ow! Who threw that?!”

A projectile salami from your camp supplies came flying from behind the bushes, and slammed into the side of your face.

All hell was breaking loose back at the campfire, as Wyll, Gale and a smug Astarion convulsed and shouted through poorly concealed laughter, blaming each other for the missile, as Karlach shook in hysterics and Lae’zel complimented the mystery thrower’s accuracy.

Gale did look more sheepish than the rest once you started to develop a black eye from the impact, promptly healed by Shadowheart.

What was it like with him?

Despite the flowery epithets and exaggerated displays of affection you awarded each other in public, in private you had a mutual understanding that it was all frivolous, no strings play. You had a parasite that could turn you into a mind flayer at any given moment, twisting in your brain. Every day bore violent encounters. Since the nautiloid crash, you hadn’t gone a single day without something trying to murder you. You didn’t want to have to worry about anything other than survival, and you took life day by day. Distractions were welcome, but actual romantic attachment would be a burden, you told yourself.

You thought of it as being friends with extended benefits.

You let him feed (well, snack, really) on you, of course. It wasn’t sexual, not since the first night. He used your wrist, so as not to be overwhelmed by the blood flow. He ended the sessions by healing you himself, assisted by a magical trinket he’d picked up somewhere on your journey. You made sure not to let Gale get his hands on that one.

In battles his arrows always picked off foes in your immediate vicinity, before they were directed to other targets. You’ve yelled at him for this, saying you were more than capable of holding your own, whilst you’d lost count of the revivify scrolls you’ve spent on Gale.

“Yes, well, the way the man goes on about his ‘natural talents’ and ‘mastery of the weave’, you’d think he’d put that big wise brain of his to developing a strategy for not getting stabbed so often” - Astarion rolled his eyes. “I’m just encouraging him to improve, really. And besides”, his eyes narrowed, “only I’m allowed to spill your blood, darling”. You frowned at that last bit, as he flashed you a sweet and almost innocent smile, and stalked off.

As for the other ‘benefits’ - the sex was intricate, if somewhat mechanic, almost too skillful on his behalf. Wanting more passion than efficiency, you eventually asked him to talk dirty to you. That made it nearly too intense for you to handle, and seemed to keep him more... personally engaged. During daytime you had to force yourself not to get caught up in flashbacks of his red eyes watching you writhe as he described what he was doing to you, what he was going to do to you, or how you looked while he worked your body.

The night that you, wanting to reciprocate, asked him exactly how he wanted to be pleasured and what he liked was a fiasco. You didn’t understand why. First he said something about being able to please you being his greatest reward and satisfaction (which you immediately shut down). Then he grew flustered and irritated, becoming uncharacteristically at a loss for words. You tried to divert the conversation, but the mood was unsalvageably ruined.

There was one takeaway from that debacle, however. After abandoning the idea of sex for the night, you laid next to each other, talking about nothing in particular: Baldur’s Gate, places you were both familiar with, comforts you were looking forward to having again. At one point he looked at his jacket, which you’d been lying on, and lamented that he couldn’t find any gold thread to fix the embroidery. You laughed and rolled over to give him a hug, and simply never let go. He wordlessly pulled you closer once it was clear you had no intention of leaving. That was the first time that you fell asleep and slept through the night in his arms.

This became somewhat of a ritual, or another game with unspoken rules. Once you were done with each other, you’d pretend to quickly fall asleep with your face nested in the crook of his neck, or to otherwise be too exhausted to get up and make way to your own tent or bedroll. He pretended not to notice the regularity with which this was happening. You pretended not to notice the soft kisses he started leaving on your neck or forehead once he thought you were really asleep. It seemed... important, somehow, that you both pointedly refused to acknowledge any of it. You sensed that otherwise a certain line would be crossed.

Last night, you were too exhausted to even think of anything but sleep by the time everyone started turning in for the night. Yet rest wasn’t even on the horizon for you – you remembered that you’d neglected to clean your weapons and carry out the well overdue maintenance on your equipment, which you did not allow anyone else to touch even when offered. You were planning to venture into the shadow-cursed lands the following day. You couldn’t afford to be sloppy. You begrudgingly set about your tasks. Astarion was as tired as everyone else, you figured it was needless to say you’d spend the night apart. And yet...

“I guess I finally get my bedroll all to myself tonight, how delightful” you heard behind you. “No one to wrap themselves around me, no one nuzzling into my neck... Only free, undisturbed personal space” You heard a hint of dejection beneath the sarcasm, and something in your stomach flipped, giving you pause.

“I’ll come back for a cuddle if you say please” you murmured over your shoulder.

“Never!” he rasped in a perfect imitation of Lae’zel when you asked the same of her before freeing her from a tiefling cage, and disappeared into his tent.

Over an hour later, as you collapsed into your own bedroll, you saw a pair of red eyes staring at you from across the camp, tent flap ajar. You held Astarion’s gaze.

“Please”, he mouthed soundlessly, smiling as he lifted the edge of his blanket.

Within moments, you slipped into his embrace, pressing your lips against his. But his kisses were gentle and feather light, lacking the usual persistent neediness.

You pulled away from him, locking eyes as he softly ran his hand down your cheek, brushing your lower lip with his thumb.

“Gods, you’re beautiful” he breathed.

That night he fell asleep with his head against your chest, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.

Your breath caught in a silent sob as you were overwhelmed by a bittersweet realization of how much you really stood to lose if you failed in the journey still ahead of you. You didn’t think you’d ever felt happier or more miserable before in your life, as you hugged him tighter.

~~~~~

Next in series

AO3

#astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #fkn Gale #why is it always Gale

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wilwheaton · 10 months

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When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

#tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw exploitation #child actor #still just a geek #lucio fulci #trauma survivor #speaking up for the child who was silenced by his abusers

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kotias · 1 month

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Ineffable Rockstars

Time to properly become creatively feral about the Ineffable Rockstars project with @vavoom-sorted-art, @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist , @daneecastle, @moonyinpisces and Stitcherydoo!

Summary of the story: human!AU, Crowley and Aziraphale are rockstars in their respective groups, Celestial Harmonies and Hell's Rebuke. Word is out that those two groups have bad history together, and therefore the two of them, while shamelessly talking to each other any festival they get to meet at, do have to be careful about being seen together by their own bands.

Summary of this excerpt: Aziraphale explains the story of the two bands to Crowley, who has arrived after everything went down and was kept in the dark by his mates.

Lyrics: written for the purpose of this fic.

Word count of the excerpt: 872 words

Excerpt:

Crowley sat down next to Aziraphale, whose eyes laid probably a second too long on those long fingers, on this chest showing so proudly from behind his open shirt- He coughed and drank a large gulp from the flute, clutching at the glass like a lifeline.

“It’s- it’s alright. Are you feeling comfortable? How was the concert?”

“Hah, acting like I didn’t see you in the audience, are ya?” Crowley asked with a smirk, and Aziraphale looked away, feeling the heat building up on his face.

“Well, we do need to keep it silent, don’t we?” he answered nonetheless with a coy smile, sipping on his drink.

“Why, though? It’s completely beyond me; Bee recruited me right after the split between Celestial Harmonies and Hell’s Rebuke, but there’s always been… you know, a feeling that it didn’t happen for no reason.”

“They haven’t explained it to you?” Crowley shook his head, and Aziraphale sighed. “No wonder you’re lost. Well, to put it simply… Hell’s Rebuke’s members were part of Celestial Harmonies, a few years ago.”

“Yes, I know that-”

“Let me talk, please; I would like to make sure we work with the same information.”

As he began explaining the official history of the two bands, he was cut by a thunder of clapping as the concert was coming to an end, and he and his counterpart felt compelled to stand up and join the applause.

When you reached Summer,

You lost sight of the star lights,

Questions died in your throat,

Cursing a future that is naught

And the night falling upon you

Left you laying awake with open eyes.

After two encore songs and enough clapping to make their hands and wrists sore, Crowley and Aziraphale walked towards another scene and stayed in relative distance, ensuring that they would hear each other. “So, you were saying, Hell’s Rebuke and Celestial Harmonies.”

“Ah! Yes; so, this is fairly public knowledge.” Crowley nodded impatiently. “At least, it is not something that we are actively hiding, neither of the two groups; somebody who knows how to Google us would be able to find this information.” Aziraphale frowned, crossing his arms. “Honestly, that is why it concerns me a little that you have not been informed of this; it is a fairly common question that people are trying out on us, asking about the other group to see how we react. Anyways-”

The vendors just a few metres from them had started cooking a few crepes, and Crowley did not miss the eyes darting towards them. “Want some? C’me on, it’s my treat,” he insisted as Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised -and it was obvious that he wasn’t going to refuse such an offer.

“Well, if you insist,” he answered, the corners of his lips curling up and his eyelashes fluttering; Crowley’s heart missed a beat, his fingers pressed against his flute, and he barely managed to keep a groan from reaching out of his mouth.

“You do have to tell me more, though; ‘specially if you think my ignorance could bite me in the ass.”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale’s voice dropped as they reached the line, keeping it to the level of a private conversation. “Bee and Gabriel were… an item.”

“Oh, excellent start. If that’s only the beginning, I might have to stock up on popcorn with that crepe of yours.”

“Heh, well, it might be one of the more interesting aspects of this entire story, so do not keep your expectations too high.”

“No, no, don't kill my hopes, now. Go on, tell me everything, I’m sure it will be full of riveting details, Bee’s never been good at keeping things tidy anyways.”

Aziraphale groaned. “Oh, you should see Gabriel when he gets involved… Ah- one crepe with sugar, thank you,” he said with a bright smile to the vendor. “Alright, so- long story short, the band was originally founded by the two of them; excellent musicians those two are, and the band did have quite the promising future before it. We started having a fairly good reputation.”

“Black coffee and a serving of fries. The name’s been around for a while now, that’s right- I remember seeing it ten years ago on some festival announcements in my city. Cash, thanks.”

“We have, yes. We were very local for a long while, but…”

“What changed?”

“Gabriel and the others were wishing to go professional; Bee and who are now Hell’s Rebuke were not willing to do that.”

“Ah, I see. Well, they didn't change much in that aspect,” Crowley mumbled sourly, extending his arms to grab the crepe and coffee. He gave the dessert over, then took his serving of fries, and they left the vendor’s stand. “Wait, where did you stand? You stayed with Celestial Harmonies, after all.”

“Hm, well…”

That did not sound like somebody who was fully happy to have stayed, Crowley thought, and he crept closer to Aziraphale, nudging him with his elbow. “Come on, spill the beans! Honestly, I’m looking to go in that direction, if there’s anything I should be aware of…”

“Being professional was, and still is, something that I hold dear,” Aziraphale explained, his slow speech feeling heavy, like he was choosing every word carefully.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable rockstars #human AU #fanfiction

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gurugirl · 7 months

Text

The Church Picnic

priest!harry x subby!reader | soft dom!harry x bratty/sub!reader

Summary: Harry's pet is being being a nuisance at the church picnic so he takes matters into his own hands when she can't seem to behave. Roughly based off this request.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, religious mentions, smut, sex in a public place, sub/dom dynamic

Forgive Me, Father masterlist

“I need to be spanked, Father,” Y/n whispered into Harry’s ear as he placed food onto his paper plate.

It was the church’s annual picnic in the big park at the center of town. Most of the congregation was there, as well as people invited to join who might be interested in attending the church. It was a way to attract new church members, as well as something fun and laid back for regular members to enjoy with games, food, and a raffle.

The priest had been making his rounds, talking to everyone, greeting the new faces, and making sure things were running smoothly.

Y/n had helped set up with five other church members. She had gotten there early and helped direct the vendors to where they needed to be and figured out where tables and chairs and games would best be placed.

Harry looked down at Y/n who had her plush bottom lip bit into her mouth and shook his head with a sigh, “When we get home I’ll take care of you.”

She was used to being “taken care of” every morning before their day started. Well, before hers started generally. Harry was an early riser. Often he’d leave just as the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon and jog around the neighborhood for exercise while his pet was still in bed. Sometimes he’d come home and she was awake and waiting for him. Other times she’d still be in bed with blankets wrapped around her body.

Either way, they both got what they needed before they had to get into their tasks for the day.

Except for this morning. Harry had to leave early to go to the church before he could get to the park. He and the elders and leaders had some things to do as well as pray over the event before it began. So not only did he not get to have his regular morning workout, but he also didn’t get to enjoy his pet either.

“I need your hands on me now,” she pushed quietly with her words.

Harry turned from the table of food and began to walk away. He knew what she was doing. She often got like this. He imagined she was asking to be spanked because she she hadn't been given proper attention that morning. Or maybe she simply wanted a spanking and probably an orgasm. Either way, Harry couldn’t think about it too much because he was among his members and other leaders of the church.

Y/n casually followed behind him. Not bothering to try and keep up with his long-legged strides because she knew he was headed to a picnic table to sit and eat. She was confident that she was going to get her way.

Harry slid into the bench of the picnic table at the end across from Mr. and Mrs. Jeralds.

She slowed her steps when she saw who was next to.

The Jeralds.

She’d been avoiding them since the night after the prayer meeting when she was sure that they’d been caught with Harry calling her a good girl. So far nothing had come of that little oversight. The Jeralds either hadn’t actually heard or seen anything (in which case Y/n was relieved but perplexed because Harry had been so obvious with his hands on her neck, the way he’d been stood so close, and the words he spoke) or maybe… they just decided to not tell anyone. Y/n figured it was the latter because she’d seen the looks from Mrs. Jeralds’ end and noticed how her demeanor had changed around both herself and the priest. Wondered if Mr. Jeralds had told her to keep quiet and not cause a scene.

Walking behind the Jeralds she kept her eyes on Harry to get his attention. When he looked up at her she tilted her head toward the pavilion and raised her brows at him. But he didn’t budge. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. And she, of course, wouldn't make this easy for him either.

He watched her pout and cross her arms over her chest as she sulked away. He was sure she wasn’t done with her little show. Would probably have to really keep her in check in front of everyone. He could tell she was in a mood. Though, he trusted she wouldn’t do anything to out their little secret she could get bratty with him.

Not long after Harry had finished his lunch he spotted Y/n talking to a young man who he’d never had the pleasure of meeting. So he approached the pair, not because he was jealous, but because he wanted to greet the new face.

Shaking the guy’s hand and introducing himself he learned that the man was Mrs. Jeralds’ cousin. The one she wanted Y/n to meet. He frowned at his pet as she put her hand on the young man’s shoulder, “And he’s working at that place downtown, Debrille,” she turned to look back at the guy, “You’ve gotta be so smart to be working there, Austin.” She spoke and Harry knew she was trying to make him jealous.

He watched the two talk for a moment, his pet’s hand never leaving the guy’s shoulder before interrupting, “It was nice to meet you, Austin. Y/n, I think Cheryl was asking for you back there. You should go see if she needs help.” He lied. A small little fib to get Y/n to move away from the handsome young man. He was not jealous of course. Just annoyed.

Y/n huffed and rolled her eyes at the priest (not within eyeshot of anyone) but deep down she was patting herself on the back for a job well done. She was wearing away at him.

After Y/n had helped the kids with the one-foot race and pairing them up she saw Harry speaking with an older gentleman and even though she knew it would be rude to interrupt she couldn’t help herself as her dirty thoughts and her needs were outweighing her good senses.

“Father, I need to ask you something if you don’t mind. It’s urgent.”

Harry squinted down at her and looked back to the man, excusing himself from their conversation. He followed her to a spot that she felt was private and looked up at him with eyes that told him what she wanted before she even said it. She knew when she rounded her eyes and made her voice breathy he had a hard time resisting her, “Father… I know you’re busy but the pavilion has a clean family bathroom with lots of space and a big bench. And I need you so bad. I’m not gonna be able to wait. Please.”

Harry looked around him and back down at his pet, “I told you to be patient.”

She shook her head, “I can’t be. I’m gonna explode. If you knew how wet I was right now… oh god…” she quietly moaned and lifted her fingers up to her neck where her pretty gold choker was, “I’m about to just go in there and take care of myself. It’ll only take five minutes. Less probably.”

Harry took a deep breath and shook his head, “You’re being a brat. You know I can’t–“

“You’ve fucked me in the rectory and in the confession box at the church before. Why not here?”

Harry clenched his jaw. She was trying his patience.

“Because if anyone sees us leaving the bathroom or going in together… and I because I said.”

She pouted smoothed her hands down her dress, “Gonna go in and take care of myself then,” she turned to walk away but Harry grasped the back of her arm, stopping her from taking another step.

“Fine. Go in and lock it behind yourself. I’ll be in there in five minutes with one knock at the door. You better not touch yourself either.”

Her pout instantly lifted as she smiled, “Ooh… thank you, Father!”

Harry didn’t know why he was giving in but he knew she wasn’t going to stop and if he knew that she was in that bathroom touching herself he’d have been a mess watching the pavilion until she emerged. He’d give her what she wanted but it wouldn’t be without consequences later.

When Y/n heard one knock on the door she hopped up from the bench and slowly opened the door for her lover.

Harry stepped in, closing and locking the door behind him.

“4 minutes is all you get. You better come in less. And later, you’ll be paying for this behavior. You are not getting off scot-free.”

Clapping her hands together she turned around before lifting her dress and pulling her panties down, “Spank me and fill me. Please, Father.”

Harry rolled his eyes but the reality was he was already hard thinking about how risky they were being and seeing her bare bottom, bruised and marked from his hands and the various paddles and instruments he’d used on her, he was aching to put himself out his own misery.

He guided her to the bench with his hands at her round bottom and swiftly undid his pants, pulling his cock out and then swatted her bum with a harsh smack.

She moaned and lifted one knee up to the bench, keeping her other foot flat on the floor, and leaned over to put her hands on the wall. With the slight spread of her thighs and the way she’d lifted her leg, he could see she was indeed already completely wet for him. Just as she said.

Harry gave her another heavy-handed smack before taking his cock in his hand and pressed it through her already-slick pussy lips, “Such a nasty thing. Walking around during a church function with your panties all wet for the priest.” And without further ado, he drove himself into her sodden cunt, dipping himself in nearly to the hilt. Her cheek smushed into the wall as she quietly gasped with a smile on her face.

Giving her bottom a few more slaps he slowly began to pull back before he thrust back in, this time until his hips were firm against her bottom, and she groaned lowly, “Yes, Father. I’ve been so nasty imagining your cock drilling into me and making me whole all morning long.”

Harry began to fuck into her pussy in quick and hard thrusts, his hand landing over her plump and marked bottom repeatedly with loud smacks.

He knew he could come in under four minutes if necessary. He just wasn’t so sure she could.

“Better come fast because I’m gonna finish and leave you here without an orgasm if you don’t. Either way, your punishment tonight will not be kind, pet.” He spoke as he slowed his thrusts and tugged her hair in his hand, yanking her neck back in the process.

Her fingers found her clit at his warning and he continued his punishing plunges. He was glad it was so loud outside because the sounds coming from inside the bathroom were lewd and sinful. Skin wetly smacking and hushed moans and gasps, Harry’s occasional grunt.

Harry’s thighs began to tremble as he pumped himself in and out quickly. He adjusted his cadence to slow down so he could really feel her pussy gripping every inch of him tightly and coating the length of his cock. He felt his balls tighten up against his body and Y/n could hear the moan falling from his chest, getting louder. She knew her priest was about to come.

“Give me your come, Father. Fuck it all into my pussy. Want all your creamy come inside of me,” she moaned her words as her fingers slid quickly over her clit and she felt the tingle of her orgasm approach.

“Fuck, pet! Fuck…” Harry panted as his cock throbbed and he watched the spectacle of his cock disappearing into his pet’s little wet pussy over and over again. He kept his hand in her hair, gripping hard as he had her face pushed into the wall.

When her stance stiffened and he felt her squeezing and pulsing around him he knew she was coming. Her mouth was dropped open, not a sound coming out, as he poured into her, rocking his hips into hers and then pressing in so his balls were tucked against her. He let go of her hair and held her bottom, draining himself into her and gasping as he did so.

When he’d recovered he issued her two more swats to each cheek and carefully pulled himself out so he didn’t drip his come or her arousal onto his pants.

She kept herself leaning against the wall as she caught her breath, ass still on display.

Harry watched his come leak from her and drip down her thighs. He leaned over her back and spoke darkly into her ear, “Clean yourself up and get back out there to help. You are not getting off easy with this behavior.” Another harsh swat to her bottom and he left her there in the family bathroom against the wall on the bench.

She smiled. She always got her way. And getting her way also included a severe punishment for being naughty. Exactly what she wanted. She had her priest wrapped around her finger.

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cecilxa · 1 year

Text

lasting childhood dream/sweetly shared future

summary: ever since you were little, alhaitham knew what he wanted.

contents: childhood friends!au, fluff, ambiguous relationship at the end (although implied romantic), gn!reader (they/them pronouns used), soft soft alhaitham

cw: food

wc: 1k

a/n: so so sorry for the slow updates :') things will (hopefully !) be picking up momentum again 🤞

“Hey, Haitham.”

Your high-pitched voice calls out to him. He chooses to ignore it.

“Hey! Haitham! Are you purposely ignoring me cause you wanna read? Again?”

A crease forms at his eyebrows–an action that a nine-year-old should never have gotten used to as often as he did–and his hands tighten around the pages of his book. You always did this. Nearly every day, you would choose to sit next to him. He can’t even remember when it started, but soon enough, you had proclaimed him your ‘best friend for life’.

For a child prodigy like Alhaitham, it’s extraordinary how he has no idea why you’ve chosen him to be your designated play partner. You don’t even play like the other kids. He just sits there, reading his book, and you sit there with him, chatting incessantly about whatever it is you want–not like he cares, anyway. (It was food on Monday, an interesting flower you found on Tuesday, and food again on Wednesday.)

He’s never asked you why, and you’ve stuck with him long enough for him to be satisfied with not knowing. It’s not like he’s not curious; he just finds his books more interesting.

“Well, since you’re not answering, I guess I’ll just find someone else to play with!”

You harrumph, turning your head away. However, since you don’t make any move to physically get up, Alhaitham doesn’t look up from the slightly-yellowed pages that he hasn't noticed he's crinkling.

But then, the unthinkable happens. Legs that were previously lounging beside him begin to unfold and rise, a shadow forming over his head. It takes him the time for you to fully stand up for him to comprehend what was happening. His crease deepens further.

“Wait.”

On instinct, one of his hands that was holding onto his book clasps onto yours, his head bowed down. His fringe hides his face, which, for once–however annoying it may be–he’s grateful for, as it means you can’t see the blush readily spreading across his cheeks. Pretending to be more interested in dragon fights and swordsmanship, he all but whispers.

“Stay. I like it better when you’re here.”

Your eyes lighten up, and a large smile breaks out across your face.

“I like it when you’re with me too! And I wasn’t actually gonna leave you. I just wanted to get us some sweets!”

“Oh.”

If he wasn’t already thankful for his fringe, he definitely is now, what with the embarrassment he’s being forced to endure. You can still probably see his ears, which he can feel burning up. Not replying, he lets go of your hand–almost abruptly–and lets you skip away to the local sweets vendor that always exudes a sugary smell.

He watches you all the way. The sun’s shining brightly on your skin, making it glow. Your toothy grin still pervades his mind, and he can feel the blush on his cheeks that never seems to go away whenever you’re around. Or maybe that’s the heat. But then why is his heart doing backflips? And why do those backflips increase in speed when he looks down at the hand that was held in yours? He thinks that they fit perfectly, like two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, and (as much as he doesn’t want to admit it) that he wants you to be around him.

“Stupid thoughts. I only tolerate them because they’re my only friend.”

He chooses to ignore the other thought that his heart seems to tell.

“They’re my only friend. But I don’t mind, because I really only care about them.”

After a few minutes, you come back with that same toothy grin, carrying an assortment of sweet treats for the both of you to devour in only a few seconds. They all blend together into a saccharine scent.

“Look, try this one, Haitham! The person said it was a new flavour!”

He accepts it immediately, taking it gently from your hand and putting it into his mouth. It explodes with flavour–nutty and aromatic, nothing like the sugary syrup of the others. A small and satisfied smile creeps onto his face, his eyes failing to hide his delight. It does get stuck, however, as he tries to get parts of it dislodged from the gaps in his teeth. A giggle interrupts him.

“Haitham, you look really funny! Y’know, I want to have a sweet shop when we’re grown up so that I can make all the sweets you want! Then we can have fun together even when we have to do grown-up, boring stuff.”

You remember to be considerate, and turn to him.

“What about you, Haitham? What do you wanna be when you’re grown up?”

–

Alhaitham doesn’t remember exactly what he said after. Probably a scholar. All he can remember is younger him staring blatantly, mouth gaping open at your questioning eyes, and his heart pounding at your mention of ‘we’. The realisation that you felt the same way as him left him astounded. In that moment, he felt something bloom in his chest, something that he’s carried all these years.

Although he’s not sure whether you ever fully understood how much of a soft spot he had for you. You never even noticed how his headphones were always on the ground, rather than on his head, whenever you were around.

Now, reading his book peacefully, he looks down at his lap and allows himself to smile. You’re going to wake up with a sore neck if he keeps you in this position for much longer, but just for a moment, he wants to admire you.

Alhaitham strokes your hair tenderly, moving it out of your face, nimble fingers caressing your jawline. His eyes soften. How much you’ve meant to him. The years that he’s known you for don’t compare to the amount of gazes he’s thrown your way, so full of youthful longing and yearning. Because ever since you said ‘we’, he’s been able to answer your question. Maybe not in the exact same way he did all those years ago, but an answer that’s been stewing for every year after.

“When I grow up, I want to be by your side.”

a/n: he’s grown on me i can’t lie 😔 enemies to lovers though 😍😍 likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated !! 🩷🩷 (pink heart for iOS finally!)

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin drabbles #alhaitham drabble #this one’s over 1k words so proud of myself #self love ❤️#and PLS ALHAITHAM HOW HAVE YOU DONE THIS #ily 😘

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ddejavvu · 9 months

Note

god that weird crossover episode with the beyond borders spinoff,,, when hotch is chasing that guy through the crowded markets can you imagine being an extra and having thomas gibson grab your arm to stable himself as he runs past you i'd pass away

sorry i know you weren't requesting this and of course this isn't about thomas it's a hotch blurb but i literally could not resist writing it so here you go lovey you are so right i'd have toppled over <3333

You think it's rather rude that the man rushing through the marketplace uses you to stabilize himself as he turns a sharp corner. His arm juts out quickly to push against your shoulder, giving himself your side to lean on, but it means that the bag of fruit you'd been gathering to pay for hits the side of the table as you sway into it, and the paper tears at the sharp intrusion. Your bag splits, and you watch defeatedly as all of the produce you'd gathered tumbles to the dirty ground.

You're nothing but astounded, well aware that the police chase should have you more on edge, but completely bewildered and shock-stricken. All you can do is lift your head to watch the man run off, and he notices the damage he'd caused as he turns to throw a haphazard 'sorry!' over his shoulder at you.

He's still running but he staggers a step, torn between the chase he's engaged in and helping you. The business side of his brain starts working first, and he dashes away with barely a second's hesitation, but you'd seen guilt in his eyes that almost made up for your fallen fruit.

The crowd is keen on dispersing as the chase continues beyond you, but you don't care. They're not coming back, it would be foolish of the criminal they're after to circle back, and you kneel to collect the produce you'd lost in the chaos.

You hear the roar of engines as you try collecting the mangoes you'd dropped, now bruised and grimy. A nearby fruit stand had collapsed, the next on your list to shop at, and it's difficult to tell what's what as the fruit rolls and mingles together.

The shopkeepers congregate to join your cause, but where you're gathering the fruit in the front of your skirt, they're scooping it back into crates that had tipped wayward. You've got shorts beneath your flowy skirt that mean you can use it as an apron instead, and before long you're nearly finished re-shopping through the mess on the ground.

"Here," A deep voice comes from above you, and you jerk your head to the side to find the man that had bumped into you only seconds before. Evidently, the chase was over, but you're not sure the outcome. He's panting, chest heaving hard from running as much as he did, but he's holding out a jacket towards you, one that he's tied into a makeshift satchel.

"I'm sorry," He pants, kneeling beside you on the concrete to help scoop produce into the jacket, "I didn't mean to ruin your bag. I had to catch that man, I'm sorry I couldn't stop to help."

"It's alright," You try to keep sourness out of your voice even if you are handling citrus fruits, begrudging towards the man for nearly knocking you down but grateful that he's stopped by to fix things, "I suppose police chases are always that chaotic.

"Yeah," He breathes, still exhaling heavily as he cracks a smile at you. His hairline is beaded with sweat, and it's really rather distracting, so you try averting your eyes lest your mind wander.

"I'll buy you a new bag," He helps you stand, hauling the fruit from his tied jacket onto the righted table and motioning at another stall across the way, "They sell them, I'll be right back. Color?"

"Oh, I-" You stammer, seizing up on the spot, "Um- anything's fine."

"Alright," He's rushing off to the stall while pulling his wallet out without further hesitation, and you wonder if he always moves this fast.

You ring up the produce you want to buy with the cashier, who's quick on her feet to recover from the shock of the chase. Other vendors aren't as lucky, but you're done with your shopping after this.

"Here," The man comes back, still panting slightly, as he extends a white tote bag made just across the way.

"It matches your skirt," He smiles kindly at you, and okay, you might forgive the guy.

"Thank you," You gush, taking the bag from him and nodding when the woman tells you your total. You focus on the fruit first, scooping it gently into your new bag, and the man takes it as an opportunity to pull out his wallet again.

"Here-" He starts, but you catch him before he can pay for your food.

"It's alright!"

"No, I insist," He succeeds in handing his cash to the woman, who doesn't really look like she cares how she gets paid, just that she does, "I almost tackled you, the least I can do is pay for the fruit I knocked all over the floor."

"Thank you," You grin at him when the transaction is complete, and the stall owner flocks to help another across the way. You're alone now, though still in the middle of the fairly crowded marketplace, and you admire the polo shirt that the man in front of you has stretched over his surprisingly toned chest.

"I'm sorry, again." He smiles bashfully, reaching out to cup the back of your bent arm as he gestures away from the black vans gathered at one end of the marketplace.

"You'll have to leave through there, but you should be careful. Do you need a ride?"

"No, I'm okay." You shake your head, "I rode my bike here, and it's parked over there anyways."

"Alright. Okay, uh- stay safe." He urges, his kind smile fading slightly as someone in black sunglasses barks information at him. He nods, squinting slightly because of the sun, "Goodbye. Enjoy your fruit, and I'm sorry again."

"It's alright," You laugh, finally over your temporary grudge, "Sir?"

"Yes?" His brows raise, and you think for a moment he might be expecting you to ask for a ride anyways.

"I'm going that way," You gesture towards the road you'll take home, and you relish the bashful beam that overtakes his face when he laughs at your words, "If you guys drive through there, try not to hit me again."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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bts5sosempire · 1 year

Text

the tyrant (vi); side one

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4,583

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: old time period, mention of arranged marriage, polygamous marriages, slow-burn yandere, power imbalances, peer pressure, nothing major atm, mentions of infertility, etc.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna's eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you."

𝐚/𝐧: splitting this into two parts, leaving y’all on a cliffhanger. pls like, comment below for tagging, and reblogged. (edit: forgot there were "broken" links or something when clicking to find the chapters, those are also fixed too.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

In front of you were two boxes, one that was gunpowder with a bold black label written at the top of the crate, and the other was written in potassium chlorate. You notice that these two items share similar fates but different structures. "Handle with care," you instructed, snapping the fan in your hand shut. Walking off with shoulders squaring, your eyes trail around when you stop right in the center of the trading post. You finally owned a small port that allowed you to transport essential items from different countries. From using the money, the inn has accumulated over time.

All the time you've spent inside your room, stuck reading boring materials and trying to navigate into the world as a man, was brutal. You would never have the luxury and freedom as a woman, but you've become too accustomed to dressing up as a man. It doesn't mean you let yourself fall freely. This world wasn't built for women; you've always known that from the start, although that doesn't stop you from bending the rules to your will if you wish for it. The effects of reinforcing you into roles from everyone start to wear off when there isn't anyone keeping tabs.

And it feels liberating, you admit.

The first few steps you have taken for yourself without the help of anyone powerful give you a sense of clarity—something normal among the norms. You eye the small port, seeing the future play out in front of you. If you kept a steady trade of items from the small shops, you have gambled around the area for their compliance (you were hasty, something you ought to keep in check, too), then the port would grow big in no time. But quality wares is something you noted and took from the vendors you think would make it big if they produce what you're looking for. Owning important essential items or daily use objects was often sought out, and knowing what was going on in the market with the ledgers you kept, the vendors were happy to update it every week.

The smell of sea salt brushes against your nose when a spray mist of the ocean settles across your face like a thin veil. It brought you back from reality. The dark soft fur that clings around your neck tickles your jawline. It was a cape that had a lined coat inside for heat insulation. It was a gift to you from the seamstress. At first, you refuse such a gift as you weren't expecting anything in return but their devotion. The seamstress was an elderly lady named Rue with pure grey hair with specks of white, with milky pupils who ran the shop with her granddaughter, who was the age of fifteen. For someone blind, they have an impeccable sense of design, where to thread their needle, and even hand spin the silk threads with deer tail fur to tone down the bright arrogant colors.

Last but not least, you didn't bypass her as male.

You wonder how at first, Rue could tell, but you couldn't stop them from shoving their hands all over your face to see as further confirmation. It isn't until when you're alone that she sends her blushing granddaughter, who keeps gawking at you, to fetch warm jasmine tea from the kitchen. When she breathed out how the light footsteps and breathing differed from men, the soft scent of your natural smell under the musk of pinewood wasn't enough to fool her. Years of blindness hone her other senses.

To say you give a nervous smile even though Rue can't see, but she could sense it. You remember how she didn't ask questions about your true identity, but traces of understanding was written across her withering face. Rue was indeed an enigma and a master of changing the topic onto herself with woos of stories of her ambitious youth. You don't mind her rambling; as long as it's not you divulging into your life, then you're fine.

Readjusting the cape, you walk off the port onto the mainland, and before you can go any further, a woman who is a bit tad shorter than you bumps into you. They let out a yelp and seemed to trip over their heel as they braced for impact when falling back and shut their eyes. Based on reflexes, you grab their wrist to pull them upright, but all it does is wring their weight your way as they collide into your chest with a delicate sound of discontent.

"Hey! Watch where-" The words died on their lips when they opened their soft pomegranate-colored eyes. Their eyes almost remind you of someone. As if they couldn't utter a word after nearly insulting you, the shade of their face became gradually warmer, like the colors of their eyes. "I'm sorry!" They sputter out in nervousness. You only look down at her with your questioning piercing gaze that has her even weaker in your arms. Unknowingly. Ripping themself out of your hold, she set a space between you both.

"What are you sorry for? It was my fault for not seeing you." Simply reassuring her, the woman across from you became a more blubbering mess. You don't know what's going on in her head; the more you observe, it becomes a headache to decipher each passing second. Cutting her off, you notice the sky gradually getting darker and bid her farewell with a tilt of your head down.

It wasn't until that you were gone she allowed herself to bask in the memories of you. With both hands on her flaming cheeks, she gushes over her Prince Charming and starts to create scenarios in her head. "They were so cool!~" The aura around her was warm and pleasant, and even some bystanders who walked past her glanced at her—some young love.

"Lady Kiriko!" The young woman's handmaid finally reaches her as they huff and pant. They stop in front of her. Kiriko only clicked her tongue in distaste as she lost her sense of a heart-warming aura. "I finally found you! We have to go to the inn before it gets dark." The handmaid wheezes out.

Like a flip that has been switched, Kiriko activated her brat mode. "Why do you always have to ruin my fun?" She pinches the maid's arm harshly, and they cringe back. "I still have a bit more time left before sundown." Kiriko overlaps her arms, but her thoughts trail back to you, and then brat mode is switched off. She had a deluded smile on her face. Then again, it was back on instantly when she turned around to her maid. "By the way, did you see a handsome man on your way here? They walk where the way you came from."

The handmaid crinkles her brows in confusion.

Kiriko rolls her eyes, "You know about this tall?" She gestured to where your height would reach, which is a head taller. "They wore a cape in the color of brown, but it looked like gold with intricate design, and the neck had soft black fur surrounding it." Kiriko waited a few more seconds, "And they look adorable too."

The maid then snaps their eyes at the lady, "Ah yes! I saw them; they walked into a rented house near here!" Kiriko didn't waste time asking which house the handsome man rented, and the maid told her it was the Red Koi and sped away.

Eisha coughs as the weather gets colder and harsher. With the months flying by and winter coming, she tried to stifle another hack. "Where are the imported red coals?" She asked nearby maids, who gave each other a look, deciding who would break the news. They were a jittering mess and kept avoiding eye contact.

Eisha's lady-in-waiting ensured her Master was comfortable as she brought the finest furs and pillows to create a sturdy and warm nest. "Your Lady asked you a question, and you won't answer her?" The personal maid sternly made a face, and the lowly ranked servants quivered.

"The red coals that you requested were given to Lady (Name)," one spoke up, still refusing to make eye contact; they whispered the last part in a hush, "by Lord Sukuna's order."

As if what they said were whiplash to their Lady and the personal maid, Eisha's lady-in-waiting was about to blow a fuse for her Master. "All dismiss." She tried to say calmly. Although it was barely contained, all the servants could see how Eisha's handmaid eyes bled red with rage, and no one wasted a second to flee the room. If Hell existed, it would be this very castle.

Eisha's handmaid, Miyo, turns to their master. "Your Lady, even Lord Sukuna knows about your condition and that regular coals could suffocate your lungs and worsen it with the amount of smoke it emits." Miyo then curses you inside her mind; like everyone else, she couldn't understand why Lord Sukuna would put you above all else. Are you made of gold or something? Miyo was sure you were nothing; you hadn't made yourself worthy with a single childbirth. Something that everyone knew was important.

"Don't worry about it," Eisha's quiet demeanor made Miyo even more raucous, but she held it inside. "Go to the clothing department today and pick up my lined fur fleece and my daughter from her study." With the command, Miyo respectfully now to Eisha and left the room.

There was a quick and sudden announcement from Hanami about her niece visiting her from a different region of Japan in a week. So the Doom Mother (Motherzilla) had expected everything to be perfect and lavish. Even the concubines were putting on their best behavior as they discussed what to wear to welcome their mother-in-law's niece.

This was the first time the girl would make an official trip to visit Hanami alone. But that doesn't mean you haven't heard of her before; there were brief mentions of her throughout your marriage to Sukuna. Where Hanami had plotted the idea of her only son marrying a cousin with who he had no interest. Additionally, Sukuna only met her once when she was only eight. Even the age gap was a decade between them. In the faint memory of her ten years ago, Sukuna had said she was a spoilt brat to the brim and expected the world to bow down to her.

You could almost laugh at how ironic he was judging someone when he was the same way. Well, minus the spoilt parts, then it would be perfect.

"Lady (Name)," a lady you recognize was two years older than you, was part of Hanami's entourage, Ubi. Judging by her clothes, she was in the second rank, closely behind Hanami's vassal, Naiyu. This instantly made you put on an air of neutrality; you didn't know what to expect from her as you didn't know much about her. Out of all of Hanami's retainers, only Ubi and Naiyu were the ones you watch out for, as Ubi was specially trained under Naiyu, so their facade was perfect craftsmanship.

Since they both represent Hanami's strengths, they had to be fearless in what they do, and you suspect that much—being the blade for their master. Still, they have shown indifference toward you, but doubt lingers in your mind. You can be careful and wary of them, but that would invite your demise if you failed to see beyond, so you try to harden your eyes.

Ubi, who senses you putting up barriers, instantly tries to disarm it with a soft smile that is part of her service. "The Head Mother has requested your presence," and around you, the air of jealousy and envy from concubines rises through the roof and filters through the hallways. Whether it's deliberate or not, Ubi semblance never falters. She held onto that patience.

"Lead the way," you monotonously said, and she turned around for you to follow. Starting at her back, it's unsettling how you can't pick what's happening inside Ubi's head, unlike how you did with Sukuna. For them, it's a blank slate.

"Ugh, look at her acting like she's so important just because the Head Mother had called for her," Sena whispered with hidden jaundice around her little clique, and they all agreed. One rolls their eyes, and a few sniggers at the action. Her eyes trail close to where you left.

It took a few minutes to lead you to Hanami's residence.

"Head Mother, I have brought Lady (Name) as per your request," Ubi announces, and the door slides open. She side steps to the side to allow you in without looking up.

You enter the room with quiet steps and sit on the zabuton, and before you can bow as a greeting, she lifts a hand to stop you. "There's no need." Hanami tries to mask her displeasure at seeing you, and you weren't stupid to not see it. It's just you didn't bother to point it out. Since she has an important matter to discuss and it involves you, Hanami decides to make it quick so your face isn't a constant reminder of your Aunt.

Hanami: "You're going to take over on welcoming my niece."

You: "Pardon? Isn't that supposed to be Lady Eisha's role?"

"Yes, it is," Hanami spoke as a matter of fact, "due to her ailing health, this task might be arduous for her since the doctor has told her to stay warm, so Eisha is taking bed rest to recover. Thus I'm assigning this to you."

Well, this is news to you. Out of all the people she could've picked, she had chosen you for such a task. You would have thought she might select one of the lower concubines to do the job. With her blatant prejudice against you. "Wouldn't any other concubine be better for the job?"

"Are you shrinking your role as the second wife of my son?" Hanami blurts out in annoyance as her tone rises an octave high; she looks up and down at you repeatedly with quick eyes. Like, you have gone crazy for even suggesting that.

With lips service smile, you retort back politely, "Head Mother, you seem to be offended by my innocent question. I'm only asking since you seem to tolerate my presence barely, let alone we haven't spoken to one another within five years of being married to your son. The only time we spoke was, instead, very brief and short, two days after the wedding consummation." It was the first greeting for the mother as a new in-law from the wife or concubine as respect.

Hanami clenches her jaws tightly; your sharp tongue and dim-witted acting seem to prick her nerves. You and your Aunt are very much alike in some ways, unbearable and arrogant. "Are you going to refuse my order?"

"Ah no," you quickly reply, "that would bring shame if I didn't uphold my duty as the second wife of Sukuna and Lady Eisha's left hand too."

Hanami didn't know if what you said was pure mockery, but each passing second in this room with you got her blood pumping in anger. "Since you have understood, you're dismissed."

You courteously bow deliberately (on purpose) to bid farewell before standing up with grace. Hanami was sure you were playing with her; your ungenuine smile wasn't even hidden. She curses daily due to her son's favoritism of you; you're like a plague that never vacates. And have you grown uncouth that you don't even respect her?

"Lord Sukuna, Lady (Name) will be taking over Lady Eisha's task of welcoming your cousin in a few days," Uraume informed their master, who quirked a brow.

"Oh? So that brat of a cousin is visiting?" He asked no one in particular; it was more of saying it to himself out loud. "Mother has finally given her such an important task for once." The thought of his Mother warming up to you sounds so funny that he can't help but chuckle. His Mother barely tolerates the idea of you and loathes Sukuna himself for a self-evident reason sometimes. "Make sure my wife doesn't overwork herself and help her if necessary; I'll tend to her afterward."

Uraume silently left the room, and Sukuna mulled over his thought. He rests his temple against his knuckles and watches the candlelight flicker under a breeze. But in his spare hand was a familiar thick jewel; Sukuna toys around with a gold bangle with assorted gems in various sizes, colors, and labyrinth designs indented into the gold.

It was your bangle.

After the night he had spent with you, he took what's most precious to you, and it was what was given to you by your deceased parents. There were years of work on it, seeing how the inside of the jewel was fading away from constant use. Sukuna noticed how the clasps were loose, most of all when he kept twisting the bangle around to feel every rigidity and bump.

The more he looks at it, the more something seems off.

Sukuna barely saw small noticeable lines on the inside of the bracelet; it was in the shape of a square. A small hidden compartment; if his keen and trained eyes missed that tiny detail, he deserved to be killed on a battlefield for not seeing an enemy, ambush, or assassination. Still, Sukuna was curious and grabbed a small wooden toothpick to unlock the small door.

He was surprised when multiple seeds fell out of the bracelet when he shook them out onto the table. The color of the sources was rather old, seeing how raisin and dried they were. Something stirs in his chest, and he doesn't like it. Sukuna's fierce eyes were glaring at the jarring sight before him. Cold like Hell has washed over.

"Someone, go and fetch me the doctor. Right. Now." His voice was low, with his wrath was barely concealed through clenched teeth. "Now!" Sukuna repeats their voice bellows out from his room to outside when no one makes a move to move. One male servant scamps away to do what they're told out of fear.

You're crafty. He gives you credit for that; whatever you're hiding, he would sniff it out. Sukuna then set the jeweled bracelet down and ran a hand through his hair; he puffs out a shallow breath. He's barely an anxious man, but his opinions of you and your sensitive nature slowly etched their way into his mind as he started to pick them apart one by one in a logical sense.

When emotions run high, clouds of judgment obscure his views. Sukuna is a man led by ideals and a futuristic sense; scarcely emotions ever run by him. He knew deep down when he allowed himself to feel emotions, it would cause him trouble, and he was right. Few selected people could be worthy of his regard, but to him, it didn't change his output of you very much. He dislikes being blind by someone, even so, he fully lets himself be when it comes to you, but seeing differently from a different angle, Sukuna should know that you're not soft and malleable.

You're like glass, pretty in the light, but there are still sharp edges around it. You shouldn't be underestimated. When he thought he had you at the center of his palm, you find a way to slip away. The game of chase was a back-and-forth thing, with its up and down.

Sukuna took another breath and exhaled deeply, pushing away the negative introspections.

You were busy interacting and directing where everything should go the next few days. It almost felt like a routine when you were dressed up as your alibi, Seijuro Hajime. Your breath fogs up in front of you, and your nose itches when cold air brushes against it; turning your head to the side, you sneeze.

"You should dress up warmer for the occasion," a voice snuck up behind you, and you froze for a quick second when a heavy cape was draped around your shoulders. Sukuna had made his presence known, and the servants around you suddenly worked harder than before. You were about to shrug off his cape, but his hands were on your shoulders, "Keep it on."

Another moment of pregnant silence passed through; no servants bothered to be in your and Sukuna's line of sight. They make sure to steer clear away from the invisible bubble that was presented around their Lord of the House. Sukuna presses his broad front against your back; you can feel his heat seeping through, then he slides his hands down your shoulders until it reaches your cold hands. His callous palms envelopes your own, and there was a minor battle of you struggling to tug it away.

"Could you please let me do my job," you patronize Sukuna, who only takes it as amusement and doesn't move an inch.

"No, I came here to spend time with my lovely wife." He tunes out, and his voice is much lighter, much chirpy to your liking. "Do you want to know what I discovered today?"

"No," flatly refusing him, one of Sukuna's hands retracted for a second, and you felt something cold and heard a slight click on your wrist. You look down to see your bracelet that has gone missing adorned your wrist. Toring yourself away, you whirl around to meet his eyes; you accuse him with a quiet, burning, seething look, "So it was you who took it."

The corners of his lips quirk up. You have spent days looking for your precious bangle, even flipping your room upside down. You didn't think it was this menacing man in front of you swiping it right under your nose during that day he had forcefully bedded you. You even thought that you lost it during your outing to the castle and that anyone could pick it up and pawn it to set themselves up for life.

"It was a pretty little thing; I know it was a special gift to you from your parents. So I took it as an inspiration to see your taste, as you never wore what I gifted. " Sukuna explains while lazily giving you a nonchalant expression without losing his carefree nature. He lops his head to the side, "And here's the fun part, I fixed your little bracelet problems for you."

You clench your jaws and roll your eyes again with a deep breath, "There's nothing wrong with it."

"No, no, no," Sukuna tuts out as if he's dealing with a lying child, "There is a problem with it. You, my lovely wife here, have been plotting something bigger against me this whole time." The light in his eyes darkened and was replaced with something entirely devious. Mentally preparing yourself, Sukuna brushes his knuckles against your cold, bitten, ample red cheeks. "There are many things I've been tolerating from you," Sukuna's tone reeks of hurt and betrayal, despite failing to mask it, "but not this."

The hand caressing your cheek was suddenly behind your nape; Sukuna grips, and for once, he didn't care how he made you look in front of his servants, who were surprised at his treatment. Many hold their breath and further avoid the personal bubble as they could see trouble brewing between you both. All we're opting the long way to complete their task.

"You know I always wanted a child with you, but seriously, basil seeds?" Sukuna let out a haughty laugh when he saw your expression crumble a bit from fear of realization that he knew. "Yes, I now know what has caused your infertility."

The smile he wore never seemed so big and scary in front of you. Your mind was repeatedly reeling that Sukuna knew. He. Knew. Now you're not safe, and you can no longer avoid his advances.

Sukuna could see the vulnerability displayed before him; this was what he was waiting for. You're so open for him to take and relish. "I admire the length you're willing to go, and honestly, I genuinely do." You don't know what will come out of his mouth anymore. "No one can save you from me now. Not even your precious bracelet."

[Days Ago]

Sukuna patiently waited for the physician to arrive at his headquarters while drumming his fingers against the dark red oak table. His eyes trail to your bracelet that sticks out like a sore thumb, along with the seeds. The doors to his room snap open as the physician enters. "Finally," Sukuna said out loud; he has patience, but not today.

The doctor stopped in front of Sukuna and greeted him with a bow. "Lord Sukuna, w-what seems to be the problem?"

The man smirked, "You always seem to tremble whenever you meet me, but never mind that," Sukuna motioned with his head where the bracelet and seeds lay, "Tell me what is on the table." The physician saw and quickly took action.

They took a seed and examined it before sniffing it, and a faint scent emitted. "My Lord, this is basil seed."

Sukuna: "Basil?"

"Yes, basil." They confirmed it.

"What's so special about it?" Sukuna asks with interest.

"Lord Sukuna, basil seeds are used for many things, and especially if consuming it, doing it in small quantities once in a while not to cause side effects. Too much may cause bloating and abdominal pain. This is also used to help... " The medic explains in tangent detail.

"Then explain why it was inside the bracelet." Sukuna cuts to the chase when asking about something the doctor does and tends to run their mouth sometimes.

"A-Ah, yes." He took the bracelet from the table, "May I ask who the bracelet belongs to?"

Sukuna: "(Name)."

The doctor should not be surprised it was you. They took a moment to examine the bracelet and saw the open compartment door and sniffed the inside of the bangle, and found traces of it. "My Lord, how long has Lady (Name) worn this bracelet?"

The sound of urgency in his voice caught Sukuna's interest. "For as long as I married her. It was from her parents. What's the problem?"

Since there was no time stamp on how long, the doctor could only conclude one thing, "If Lady (Name) has worn this for a long time, then the cause of her infertility could be this all along." The words are like a cold wake-up call from the doctor; Sukuna's eyelids droop low with fury. The thought of you, 'How dare you (Name).' The doctor nervously continues, "Long exposure to basil seeds entering the bloodstream could thin out the blood, affect her hormones, and even her menstrual cycles. This could also explain—"

Sukuna raised a hand for the medic to shut their mouth as he was complimented on how he should deal with you and what he had just learned today. At first, he took your bracelet to understand your personal preferences, then return it to you later, and now he doesn't regret stumbling onto your long secret by chance. The amount of time he had bed you and you failed to conceive a child was out.

"You're dismissed, and keep your mouth shut." Then he looks at the corner where Uraume resides, "Take the bracelet to get it modified from a nearby jeweler. Fix the clasps and seal the door."

•

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writingoddess1125 · 5 months

Text

Barefoot and Bruised

ALL ABOARD THE ANGST AND DEPRESSION TRAIN! TOOT TOOT MOTHERFUCKERS

Buggy + OOC/Reader

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ Depression, Character Death, Saddness, Angst

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"You can't do this to me Captian!" You sobbed out, Rage in your eyes as you stared at who you thought was the love of your life. There standing on the tiny life boat with all your stuff that had been pulled from your quarters as the crew, once thought to be your family leered at you and cackled at your pathetic state.

You had been with Captian Buggy in what you had thought was a loving relationship. You gave him your heart, your body- and this is what he does to you... sees you experiencing what could only be morning sickness and has you thrown out like a stray.

Standing there still in his sleeping shorts that he had worn when he fell asleep next to you the night before.

"Oh? The Cabin Whore things she can tell me what to do?" He laughed, the crew joining in as you felt your skin burn with embrassment.

"Y-You were the only one I was with" You choked out, Buggy's eyes not meeting your own.

"And with how easy it was- Would be surprised if half the crew was with you at this point. A few nice words and you fell in a mattress like a slut" He sneered. Your heart shattered then and there- he had been the only man you gave yourself too.. and he called you a whore?-

"B-But it's yours!- you know this" You pleas, but the clown waves you off. Instead reaching into his pockets to pull out a necklace- payment for your services..

"Could be anyones- But I'm not heartless. This should suffice as payment" He said cruelly throwing the necklace.

You sobbed as the jewlery hit you and fell to the floor of the boat. Looking back up at Buggy as fat tears rolled down your face- His cocky persona staring back at you.

"P-Please- You'll kill us" You said softly, Buggy laughing at this as he waved you off.

"If it truly is mine then- It will live!" He said with a laugh, the crew also laughing at you as the boat was lowered into the ocean. You sitting in the tiny dingy and staring up at Red Top as you floated towards the islands that Buggy had chosen to abandon you at-

Your eyes locking onto him as he stared down at you- sailing away.

That imagine would haunt him for the rest of his days.. watching you sail off with that heart broken and shell-shocked look on your flushed face. Wearing the shirt he had worn the night before and nothing else-

Cruel heartless bastard.. That's the only thing he could call himself after that day.

His own ego had done this- His pride in wanting to be a famed heartless pirate had made him throw away the only person he loved. The only person who loved him. He had regretted his actions, knowing you couldn't have cheated on him nor were you a whore- but his own insecurities more willing to think you'd betrayed him rather then being the father of your child.

He had wanted to find you- searching the East Blue were he hand abandoned you, hoping to see your face and drag you back with him.

But for 6 years he had failed- Growing in his status as a Pirate but he hadn't cared for it... the alcohol no better then vinegar and the food like ash on his lips. The success wasn't worth it- Non of it could quench his hunger like you did..

So jovial men a hardened and angry mess- Willing to burn everything to the ground with a simple hope of feeling anything again that wasn't self-hatred.

It acted as a tradion of sorts for him- Buying something from a vendor as a token of what it once was- before burning the village to the ground and ripping away all its valuables... Wasn't like he wouldn't get his money back at the end of the day anyway-

Today was no different, having his crew stop on a random island on the East Blue. He always went first, going into the village to search for you and when he failed, buying some trinket to add to visual representation of his failures.

As he walked, the world no better then to be in Grayscale thinking of which place he will destroy first a flash of blue caught his eye, craning his head to follow it quickly.

Buggy stared at the starving child- A feeling of pain hitting his chest as he stared at the miserable little thing. Her feet cut up and bare red from exposure with tried blood on them, Her skin which reminded him so much of your own was dirty, ashy and covered in deep blue bruises that seemed to paint her whole form. Which was only being covered by what was once a dress and now a tattered patchy mess- A breeze most likely ready to rip it and leave her bare to the horrors of the world.

The Clown watching as the blue was matted hair, sticking up and dirty from lack of washing. Attacked to it, a equality dirty little girl digging through a trashcan in an alleyway and pulling out bread that even in his reasoning wouldn't be suitable for a bug to eat let alone a little girl.

"What are you looking at Mister?" The little girl said defensively snapping Buggy back to reality as he saw ger holding the bread like he was gonna take it from her- it would have been funny if she didn't look so damn awful.. he look in her feature, trying to track why they were so familiar to him. A twisted scowl that hung low on her rounded race, a normal nose buttoned and high however tinted red like she had a cold- But it was her eyes.. oh those sad little eyes that told him all he needed, Shaped just like yours but with his unique color. The mop of matted blue hair also cluing him in-

But he could see on her face, despite how thin, the perfect mix of you and him- it damn near took his breath away to see her. In most cases he would even call her the most beautiful being in this world..

How could you let them be on the street? Let them walk around half starved and beaten so terribly?

Stepping closer to the alleyway that she was standing in, he looked over to see only trash and a wooden box- which he assumed she'd been staying in. Confused and hurt at not seeing your face as well.

Was she by herself?

"Where is your mother kid?" He scoffed anger biting his tongue, staring at matching ocean eyes like his own. The little girl glaring up at him apprehensive of him rightly so, clearly his words hitting a nerve in her little body.

"Shes Dead-"

Her words knocking the wind from Buggy's lungs and his anger turned to himself once more...

"Oh.." blinking back what felt like tears in his eyes he glanced away for a few seconds. The burn of her words echoing in his brain as guilt began to fill his hallow heart.

"How?" He said a bit sharply, seeing the child's body language grow a bit hesitant and defensive as she took some steps back.

"She was robbed and murdered for her necklace" She said truthfully. Buggy staggering at hearing this- remembering the gold necklace he had tossed at you when he left you on that damn boat. He had ment for you to sell it.. why hadn't you sold it!? You could have lived- He could have apologized to you, grovel at your feet and begged for forgiveness!

The child continued to stare at him- clearly able to tell he was in his own mind. It took him a few seconds to recollect himself, meeting her eyes again as he kneeled down to be more eyelevel.

"What happened to her body?" He asked calmly.

"Why should I tell you?" She shot back, almost pulling a laugh from the man. She had his attitude it seemed.. poor thing-

"Fair enough-" He mused "You're a rough kid" He said calmly. Staring her down- part of him wanting to reach out and take her in his arms, cry into her dirty hair and beg for her to forgive him for leaving her and her mother.. Grovel before this begging child- However his fear of her running away was stronger. If he did that she could escape and would have to rip this village apart to find her.

"...H-How do you feel about working kid?" He said softly, his voice wavering at his own words. The way he eyes shined at hearing the opportunity for money reminded him of his own- hungry.

"Really?" She said loudly, Buggy reaching into his pockets and pulling out a 10000 beri note. Holding it out to her which she greedily took- the note looking massive in her tiny fingers. He could practically see her counting how much food she could get with the bill.

"There is more, If you agree to work on my ship as an apprentice" He said calmly, The little girl holding the note highly in her little fist and looked at his skeptical. "That and I feed my crew really well. We do circus shows too and wear whatever costumes we want" He pitched with his kindest and most performance voice, watching her eyes light up at the idea. A grin stretching across her face and he damn near wept- The same smile you had.

"I accept Mister!" She said loudly, Buggy giving a stiff nod and holding out the small bag he had been holding for her to carry- figuring she would be suspicious if he didnt have her do something for her new job. That and he would most likely give the trinket to her anyway- along with anything she could ever desire.

"Whats your name?" He asked, watching her proudly take the small bag to carry. As well as getting a better look at her arms- so thin he could see the joints of her elbows.

"Aoko" She said proudly, Buggy damn near rolled his eyes- 'Blue Child...very funny (Y/N)' He though, Standing back to his full height and waving her forward towards the pier.

"Alright. Aoko.. Let's head to your new home" He said calmly, watching her skip forward with the bag. Unaware of her Father staring right behind her, as tears rolled down his panted face finally.

#x reader #one piece #one peice x reader #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader

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lolasimms · 1 year

Note

how do you think abbu would react to being invited to lilas tea party?

Tea parties and mockery

Summary: Abby has a tea party with Lila and Levi, and it ends with her getting taunted by her 4 year old daughter. Reader is away on a work trip.

“Momma, are you going to make us some tea?" Lila comes in the room wearing one of your coats. She says it makes her look classy. The black fabric is hanging to the floor like a dress, but the 4 year old doesn't seem to care.

You were away on a work trip, meaning Abby was at home with the babies for the weekend. She’d left the kids with her dad in the morning and then dropped you off at the airport. After lots of hugs and kisses she’d left you at the front and then made her way back to her dads to get the kids. Levi was taking your absence well but Lila on the other hand was fuming, since you’d promised her a tea party earlier in the week. So here she was, getting the tea party in order for her grumpy daughter and agreeable son.

"Yes, give me a minute, honey." She makes her way into the bathroom, where a newly potty trained Levi is done. He stands up and claps, once he spots his mother. "Good job honey, now let's wash that stinky behind." She calls out, pulling the toddler off the potty.

"Eww, put on your pants Levi," Lila says as she watches her half-naked brother get cleaned up.

Abby finishes cleaning Levi and then proceeds to carry both kids down the stairs to get a start on the tea. It was an expensive lilac tea that Lila had insisted Abby buy for her since it was the plant she was named after. If she was being honest, Abby thought the tea tasted like the smell of air freshener, but she’d do anything Lila wanted. Even if it meant spending $30 at an organic tea shop.

Lila plays with Levi in the living room while Abby prepares the tea. She was told by the vendor at the store that lilac was good for relaxing and digestion. She only hoped that was true, so she could calm the two gremlins down, enough to get them to sleep at-least. She throws the overpriced tea bag into the pot and then pours in the boiled water, she doesn’t add any sugar though. She always tells Lila that real adults don't put sweeteners or sugar in their tea. It's a lie, but she’s not willing to deal with the aftermath of a 4 and 1 year old on a sugar rush.

"Alright kiddos, tea is ready."

"Yaa! Levi the tea is ready.” Lila shouts, attempting to lift up her brother but fails miserably, immediately she sets him back down. Levi loves every minute of it, just looking up in excitement at his big sister. "Okay, momma, you have to carry us." Abby looks at the hot teapot she’s holding and then back to her two kids.

"I can only carry Levi, cause I'm holding your teapot." She explains to Lila.

"Hmmpph." She pouts and crosses her arms across her chest. Abby knows she doesn't stand a chance. She either does what Lila wants, or she'll have a full-blown tantrum.

"Fine, hop on, mommas back." She squats down so Lila can hop on, and she does so happily.

Abby then scoops up Levi with the arm that is not holding the teapot. And by some miracle she manages to get them both upstairs with no falls or third degree burns. If you had been home to witness this, Abby Anderson would have been a dead woman.

Lila serves Abby and Levi the tea. As they’re all sat around a fancy tea table and matching chairs that her grandpa Jerry had gotten her for her birthday. Abby’s bulky figure cant fit in the chair, or else she’d break it. So instead she opts to sit on the floor. Lila’s teapots are white with purple embellishments coated on them, alone with matching cups.

"Momma, don't forget to hold out your pinky."

"Oh yes, baby, I apologise." She points her pinky outward as she takes a sip from the cup.

Levi is quiet as he patiently waits for Lila’s instructions, to tell him what to do. He is so enamored by her, and Abby loves the close knit bond the two of them already have.

"Okay, so momma how was your day?"

"It was nice."

"What did you do?"

"I dropped mommy off to the airport and then spent the day with you two.”

“Is mommy your girlfriend?”

“She’s my wife, and how do you know what that is?”

“Do you and mommy kiss?” Abby’s eyes go wide and she immediately turns red.

Lila starts to jump around the room, hysterically laughing and Levi runs after her laughing as well, copying his sister's actions.

"Momma, kisses mommy" Lila begins to chant, over and over again. Trying to get under Abby’s skin.

“Alright we’re never having another tea party again.” Abby playfully yells over the chanting.

"Momma kisses mommy!!” Lila continues running around her room and screaming. Levi doing the same, and Abby is just perched on the floor, smiling in amazement that she’d be stuck with these two gremlins for the rest of her life. She loved it.

—

abby

can you please come home now???

y/n

what’s wrong love, the babies okay?

abby

your daughter made fun of me because I kiss you

y/n

you poor thing, is our 4 year old giving you a hard time?

abby

yeah :/

y/n

want me to ground her when I get back?

abby

would you actually?

y/n

if she’s bullying my wife then I’ve gotta teach her a lesson :)

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x female reader #wife abby anderson

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 24 days

Note

If possible how about 9 & 22 with all four boys? And could you use They/Them pronouns for Reader please? (I'm a Non-binary myself) Thanks in advance <3

9. "I thought you said we were going out for dinner?"

22. "I love you, I really do, but I also really love garlic."

Sure thing! Thanks for requesting (and telling me the right pronouns to use!) I hope you like this!💜

------------------------------

The boardwalk was busing as ever, with people flooding the place, children screaming and crying with laughter and vendors yelling about how cheap - or expensive, depending on one's point of view - their goods were. In the midst of this wonderfully bright neon chaos, you could find five people that did not quite fit in. Four of them terrorised the people visiting the boardwalk. Sometimes they scared the children, stole from others, caused general chaos - and it so happened that if you angered them, the chance of ever being seen alive became very nihil. The fifth person with them was me. Even though I did not always go along with the chaotic tendencies of my mates, people did fear me just as much. It was a weird feeling, but appreciated. I could do what I wanted, wear what I wanted, and no one would even dare to say a thing.

"I don't know about you, but I am starving." I looked at the others.

"Why are you always hungry when we go to the boardwalk?" Paul asked with a sigh, one of his arms hanging loosely on my shoulder.

"Maybe because you forget I'm human?"

"So?"

"Also," I gave him a semi stern look. "I thought you said we were going out for dinner?"

"Yeah? Wait, did I?" Paul looked at Marko, who shrugged.

"I don't know, man. Probably."

"Paul, you can't blame them for being hungry," David looked at us as he lit a cigarette, appearing somewhat bored with the whole conversation. I realised however that he was scanning the crowds, probably to pick out the prey for his next hunt. "Go and get some food."

"You're not coming with?" I asked. Dwayne was already walking next to me, and Paul and Marko had practically run straight to the small Chinese restaurant. Seeing that made me sigh a little. It was always Chinese food. Always. And as much as one can enjoy noodles or rice, sometimes you really bloody crave some good pizza or pasta or a focaccia.

"I am. Just need to eat first."

"But-" I looked puzzled for a second. "Oh. Yeah, ehm, I think that's appreciated."

David chuckled, walking the opposite direction. As Dwayne and I walked towards where Paul and Marko were headed, I was glad to see that they were still outside.

"What took you so long?" Marko asked, a teasing grin on his face. I shrugged. "Just keeping tabs. Need to know where you all are and such."

"Ah, see, I told you it was simply because they care about us," Marko looked at Paul, who nodded.

"I think it's more than just 'care' at this point," Dwayne said as he was about to open the door towards the Chinese restaurant.

"Yeah, me too. Ehm-"

"What?"

"I mean, I don't want to be rude or anything..."

"What?" Paul looked at me, asking it again.

"And I mean, I love Chinese food, from time to time, but -"

"What's wrong with Chinese?" David's sudden presence caused me to jump - causing him to chuckle.

"Last time I was eating actual worms, David."

"It was all in good fun."

"That may be, and I mean, I truly don't mind it sometimes, but I am really craving Italian tonight."

"If you know a place that doesn't use garlic in everything, we can get Italian."

"Or-" I said, knowing that the chances of that were likely zero- "I could get Italian, you could get Chinese and everyone would be happy?"

"Why do you want Italian that badly? Spaghetti is just a different kind of noodle!" Marko grinned, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Because I love garlic? And I like my spaghetti or other pasta with garlic?"

"I feel betrayed!" Paul gasped, a huge grin on his face.

"I thought you loved us?" Dwayne asked, his tone serious. I nodded.

"I love you, I really do, but I also really love garlic."

"Well, lucky for you," David pulled me towards him, "garlic doesn't do shit to us."

"What the fuck? So I spent months avoiding garlic in everything so I wouldn't accidentally hurt you guys, and now you tell me?" I looked at David, then at the others, and back. "I shouod have known - they use garlic practically everywhere! Oh I hate you guys!"

Dwayne chuckled. "Do you still want to get Italian?"

"Yes! And just so you know, the next month it is only going to be Italian. I need to catch up on all the garlic I missed!"

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #dwayne #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #star #the lost boys x reader

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damn-stark · 11 months

Text

Chapter 9 Heart of ice

Chapter 9 of Moonlight

A/N- 😙

Warning- Swearing, angst, fluff, talks of blood, death, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- After 1x09, events based off of Fire and Blood

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW MONTHS AGO*

“Dragon fruit for the dragon Princess?”

“Pearl necklace for the Siren of Driftmark?”

“Oranges? They’re good for a growing babe.”

You touch your 6 month old swollen belly and come to another stop in front of the stand to study the big round oranges stacked so neatly on the crates.

“How much?” You ask the vendor.

The man puts his hands on his hips and studies his fruit for a moment before facing you. “Discount for you princess. 5 Silver dragons.”

You glance at Aemond, and he hesitates before handing your pouch of money. He doesn’t find this trip necessary, he says that whatever you want can be brought right away. But, you just batted your eyelashes and told him that you needed to take a stroll because of your pregnancy, that the baby needed it, so he accepted without a fight after that.

“I’ll give you 10 golden dragons instead of silver,” you tell the vendor as you get out the golden coins that make the man’s eyes almost pop out of eyes. “Find good use for it.”

The man takes the money, but holds your hand and bows his head. “Thank you, Princess. Thank you, may the gods bless you and yours.”

You offer him a kind smile, and he lets your hand go so you can reach for a box of oranges. However, he then blocks the oranges with his hands. “No, these are no good. I have perfect ones. Juicy and sweet.” He crouches and pulls out a box from under the table and hands it to you.

Albeit before you can even reach Ser Criston takes the box for you.

“Have a nice day, sir,” you direct at the man before you continue down the busy street lively with people.

“<He ripped you off you know,>” Aemond grumbles in High Valyrian so the people around wouldn’t understand him.

You scoff softly as you hook your arm around his. “I know, but I won’t go poor by giving him something extra. Bless them and the gods bless you. Lady Stark would say that.” You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “Besides I actually got a craving. Or the babe did.” You grin and touch your belly again, feeling a small movement now. “Feel,” you beckon him and snatch his hand from his side to press it against your small belly. “He’s moving.”

Aemond comes to a stop to caress your belly very gently. You grin at him in awe and slide his hand to the other side. “See? He wants oranges.”

A smile breaks on Aemond’s face before he takes your hand again and continues to walk with you down the street. “You don’t know that it’s a boy,” he points out.

You giggle. “I do. It’s an instinct. When I imagine the babe I see a boy. Always. We’ll have a boy. I’ll even bet you.”

Aemond scoffs and smirks. “You can place your bets with Aegon. He never turns down the chance to gamble. I believe you.”

“Good,” you grin. “Now I wonder how many kids we'll have. Six? I want a big family. But if I can’t have so many I’ll be content with two, but we need to have a baby girl.”

“So you can name her Daenys?” Aemond finishes for you, making you look at him with awe.

“You remember?” You probe.

A small smirk spreads on his lips and he nods. “I do. You’d only bore me with stories about her.”

You roll your eyes. “I wouldn’t bore you. You’d bring me the books!”

“Because it was your favorite,” he counters softly.

You laugh softly and nod. “Still is. Maybe our Daenys will be an amazing dreamer just like the great legend that saved our house.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Maybe.”

You let out a content sigh.

“Spare some food? Money?” A child with his face covered in dirt asks. “Something small?”

“<He just wants to steal from you, they always have money.>” Aemond points out.

Even if he did, you don’t care, you stop and turn to pick out an orange off the box.

The kids' eyes grow curious, and they follow your hand as you move it towards him. You pretend you’re going to give him a single orange, but you then hand it to Aemond and instead grab the box off of Ser Criston’s hold.

“Take it,” you tell the kid. “It’s for you.” You put the box down in front of him and shoot him a smile before you move on.

This time Aemond doesn’t make a remark about your actions, you wouldn't care either way, so he just lets it pass and takes your hand in his again. However, before you can pass the last courtyard before reaching the castle walls, a woman with a bright red dress walks out of her house and announces something that steals your immediate attention.

“Wish to know your future, my Princess?”

“Princess,” Ser Criston interjects now. “She’s only trying to take your money. It’s a scam. Leave it.”

You flick your wrist down and take the money pouch from Aemond’s side.

“Your worry is misplaced, Ser,” the pretty lady with bright and beautiful remarkable colored eyes says. “But I understand. Patience is a fickle thing is it not, Ser Criston Cole? If only you had known it, you would be happy now.” Her eyes dart to you and then go back to him quickly as if trying to point something out.

You don’t read into it, or demand explanation, you let her continue as she looks between all three of you. “I am a humble servant of the Lord of Light,” she rebuttals, “I only mean to give the Princess insight for her eyes are covered and her soul is basked by darkness.”

You smile at her eagerly and let Aemond go to step towards her. “What is your name?” You ask first.

The woman's bright eyes meet yours and her lips tug upward just slightly. “I am Kinvara, Priestess of the Lord of Light.”

“<Y/N, let’s go,> Aemond warns.

“<I am no one to fear, fear resides in the whispers that are heard in the shadows, and from the pretenders…” she pauses and narrows her eyes on him. “You see clearly with her at your side, venture too far and you're left blind. Don’t let the shadows consume you, My Prince, or darkness is all you’ll know.>”

You glance at him and grin brightly before facing her again. “Now can you tell me what I seek?” You press impatiently.

Kinvara turns and walks inside, but you first face Aemond. “Wait for me out here,” you tell him.

Aemond holds your gaze and narrows his gaze. “I won’t get you to leave,” he mutters with discontent. “Just be careful. Don’t give her all your money.”

You shoot him a small smile and then lean in to kiss him before you follow after the Red Priestess, finding a single fire lit on a golden bowl in the middle of the elegant parlor room.

“How much will it cost?” You ask her as you slowly wander to the stand holding the bowl.

“Nothing but your attention,” she shares in such a soothing voice. “And a drop of your blood.”

You stop before the bowl and don’t question offering her your hand. Kinvara picks out a single thin needle and gently cups your hand to poke the sharp end on the pad of your thumb. When a scarlett drop of blood crawls out of the small wound she pulls your hand over the flames and turns it to let the single drop of blood fall in the flames. She then lets your hand go and throws the needle in the flames to let the fire eat away at it.

“You have fire made flesh, a gift from the Lord of Light,” she begins to say.

You clasp your hands over your belly and watch her eyes read the dancing flames with curiosity.

“You have salt littered blood. The dragon of your house sigil has three heads, but your dragon only has one. Your dragon burns fiercely and passionately. Your dragon flies high within the clouds in search of something.” She lets the words slip out, and then meets your gaze across the flames.

You should be intimidated, but you’re not, you’re just eager to know more.

“Three hearts,” Kinvara adds. “One made of ice, two of fire. Four flesh made eggs…”

Four eggs, huh?

“…and loyalty. That is easy to find when you look at the surface of clear waters.”

You shoot her a grin and pick at one thing that caught your attention. “Four eggs? Does it mean I’ll have four kids?”

Kinvara smiles sweetly. “Smart girl. They’ll grow, they’ll know happiness and long lives, hm.” She blinks and her smiles fades to a smirk. “But sins will burden them, cast over them like shadows.”

Right away your smile fades and for the first time since you saw her fear begins to crawl across your mind. “What…does that mean?” You ask quietly.

The red priestess lifts her chin and sighs. “You’ll know.”

How insightful.

“One more thing,” she interjects and moves away from her spot to reach you and grab your hands “Fire kills the girl and awakens the dragon. Follow the flames for they are sweet to you since the moment your seat was taken.”

You let out a deep breath and nod stiffly. You don’t understand completely, or at all actually, but you nod in comprehension before you return to Aemond.

“What did she say?” Aemond asks without waiting to reach the safety of the castle.

So much you didn’t understand.

“We’ll have four kids,” you share the only thing that was clear.

Aemond hums and leaves it at that. Just as you do.

——

*NOW. WINTERFELL*

Was it the flight here, or just your nerves over seeing someone, making your stomach all twisted?

You look at the tall grey stone walls, your eyes climb them to the top expecting to catch a pair of grey eyes, but there’s no one at the top this time. Not like when you first got here.

Good. It gives you time to mentally prepare yourself.

“Gods, I think I’m going to be sick,” you mutter and turn around to give your back to the gates that are getting opened. “Jacaerys cover me. I need to fix my top, it’s too hiked up.”

“They’re coming—”

“Cover me!” You exclaim.

Jacaerys groans and you feel his cloak cover the light bitter breeze that blew.

“I thought there’d be snow,” he adds. “I don’t see it.”

You roll your eyes and pull your top down after having it rise because of your long flight seated on your saddle. “It’s autumn,” you remind him. “They get dry autumns here too. It’s not always covered in snow. But who knows maybe you’ll see snow tomorrow.” You part open the shirt just a bit at the top to show more of your cleavage….it’s warmish and…you are seeing your old lover.

He can look.

“Princess,” a familiar voice calls out.

It’s not Cregan, his voice is a bit deeper, more…well, elegant in way, but not like Aemond’s. Let’s just say that his voice is one you’d know right away. So this is not him.

You turn and push Jacaerys arm down to come face to face with Ser Rolf and a few castle guards. But not Cregan.

“My prince,” Ser Rolf greets your brother by your side.

“Ser Rolf,” you greet with a a faint smile that doesn’t take long to widen to a happy grin whilst you break away and meet him halfway for an embrace. “It’s been too long,” you tell him as you pat his back before you pull away. “I’m happy to see you.”

Ser Rolf mirrors your smile. “And you. A congratulations are in order, I hear. A son. How is he?”

You smile softly and already miss Aerion. “Healthy and growing. How’s your baby girl?”

Ser Rolf nods softly. “Sweet and healthy. I’ll bring her later so you can meet her.”

You clap lightly. “I can’t wait.” You look back at Jacaerys and wave him over. “This is my brother, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon. Brother, this is an old friend, Ser Rolf. He's good friends with Lord Stark.”

Jacaerys gives a stiff nod before glancing around. “Where is Lord Stark? We’ve come to request an audience.” He deadpans.

You swallow thickly and step back to fall by his side again.

“Inside waiting for the both of you already,” Ser Rolf shares, causing your heart to begin racing. “You might want to forgive Lord Stark, you see with whispers of war the Lord's safety is prioritized. But I will take you to him now, follow me.”

Good this way you can build up your confidence between here and the throne room. You’ll hide how nervous you are by seeing him again, by the fear that you’ll lose all feeling for your husband and fall for Cregan’s charm once again. Or that he’ll hate you for being distant.

Or worse he’ll say he’s with someone else now….

Which isn’t a bad thing, at least hearing that tragic news can let you forget all about each other, but still…you can’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jacaerys voice cuts through your racing mind.

You don’t even realize how deep you are in the grounds, or how close you are now to reaching the throne room and…seeing him.

“Just worried,” you avoid the truth. “About Aerion.”

Jacaerys keeps his eyes on you and narrows his gaze, but you just exhale and look at the upcoming hall door.

“He’s safe at Dragonstone,” Jacaerys assures you. “Mother will never let anyone take him. No one will.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and nod unsurely. “You’re right.”

“Besides this is our last stop and then we return home,” he adds softly as you come to a brief stop as guards slowly open the hall doors. “Just hold on for a while longer.”

Aerion’s well-being worried you, but as of now Cregan managed to squeeze himself to your first priority.

“Prince Jacaerys of House Velaryon!” A booming voice gets carried out of the softly lit hall. “And Princess Y/N of House Velaryon, wife of Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Why do they always need to announce that you're his wife, everyone knows, and he doesn’t own you.

Regardless, with each step you take deeper in the hall, the faster your heart races, the more you feel like throwing up, and the more you feel the need to run out.

As you turn a corner and know he’s fully visible on his great throne just down the hall, you avert your gaze and fist your hands. You feel his gaze though, you feel a warmth on your face. You hear him shifting in his seat, you hear his breath hitch.

When Jacaerys comes to a stop, you don’t fall back, you stand by his side with your eyes still averted.

“My prince,” there it is, that’s his voice….gods it brings you goosebumps. “My Princess…” he hesitates for a moment, a single second longer, but it’s enough for you to finally break your gaze away from the ground and slowly lift your gaze to meet his…familiar grey eyes.

And gods it’s like a breath of fresh air, like…seeing color again…

His hair is longer now, half of it is tied back; he couldn’t do that when you were here. His face hasn’t changed though, there’s no new wrinkles, it’s the same stern one you knew, the same one you dream about. His shoulders however, his arms are bigger, it seems like his muscles want to burst out of his shirt….

Married. Aemond. You’re still married.

“Welcome to Winterfell, I hope your flight here wasn’t so cold,” Cregan says and holds your gaze the entire time.

“No,” you assure him, causing the corner of his lips to twitch to a smile. “The winds were gracious on our way North, thank you Lord Stark.”

“Good.”

You can’t help your smile no matter how hard you try to fight it.

“I hope you forgive our sudden presence,” Jacaerys manages to cut in, pulling your eyes to him and noticing he was studying you with a pointed look, so you lose your smile and avert your gaze—“And our bluntness, Lord Stark, but we come here to deliver you a message from the Queen.”

Cregan lifts his chin and glances at his maester before facing both Jacaerys and you. “Not so long ago I received an envoy from a man who claims himself to be King.”

“He’s no King,” Jacaerys spats. “He’s a usurper. We come bearing news from your rightful ruler.”

You share a confident glance with your brother and then watch the maester take the scroll from his hand to deliver it to Cregan.

When the Lord takes it and reads the neatly written words he sighs and doesn’t take long to lower the paper and face you again.

“We can't offer you anything in return for your swords, and lives, Lord Stark,” you interject with your nose in the air to present yourself as collected even if your mind is still running like crazy. You want to just maybe let your brother talk, but you know that your fight and duty is more important than your feelings right now.

“Nor have we come to beg. But we hope that the North and you are everything that your ancestors have lived up to, that your father has lived up to. Loyal.”

Cregan slightly tilts his head and narrows his gaze just slightly as he grows intrigued by the way you speak.

“Your father bent the knee in front of my mother, he swore that House Stark and the North will follow the line of succession, and in the years my grandsire, the late King, was alive he never changed his heir. The rightful ruler is my mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, and your Queen's throne was stolen. Stand for your Queen, Lord Stark. Or break tradition and stand against the crown.”

Cregan lets out a deep breath and taps the scroll agaisnt the arm rest. “Your words move me Princess. And truly, what Lord would I be if I break my oaths? The Queen will not see the North break faith…”

You share a relieved look with Jacaerys, but it doesn’t last since there’s still more to come from Cregan. You know it.

“But…this war feels almost like family affairs, why should we support this war?” He asks, making you scoff. “Winter is coming, my priorities should be on my people. Besides, you have dragons, why not use those? Why risk our lives for this war?”

You part your lips to argue, but Jacaerys interjects this time.

“The Queen doesn’t want to rule over lands of ash and bone. But if you don’t support this war, the Greens will retaliate and leave nothing but ash of the North. They threaten your Queen’s life, they steal from her, will you stand and see your home burnt? Will you sit and do nothing as an injustice is acted against your Queen? Or will you and your people fight for what’s right? Fight for your lands and your lives?”

Cregan’s gaze drifts to his maester and other people listening to this conversation. He sighs and leaves the room quiet, making Jacaerys and you share a quick worried look before facing Cregan.

“You’ve left me a lot to think about,” Cregan breaks his short contemplating silence. “I hope you know fighting in war is not something to accept lightly, please rest, bathe, eat. Your journey must’ve been a long one.”

You scoff and counter. “For how long? We won’t leave until we get an answer.”

Cregan’s chest rises. “Soon. Please let us show you where you can lay your heads. I will give you my answer, I swear you that.”

Jacaerys sighs, but you catch him nod in agreement with a relaxed expression. “Thank you Lord Stark. We will wait diligently.” He bows his head and shifts his stance to face you with a scolding look.

You sigh deeply and drag your eyes to meet Cregan’s. “Thank you.” You deadpan. You blink and look away in annoyance.

The plan was for him to accept, and then leave so you wouldn't have to stay here longer than you should, but no….no?! Gods.

You attempt to follow a maester to your temporary chambers, but just as you walk a few paces, the door that leads deeper in the castle perimeters opens and a servant walks out with a small toddler. It’s not hard to guess who he is, you last saw baby Rickon when he was only a few days old, but you’ll never forget him or his grey eyes that match Cregan’s.

“Gods,” you gasp softly and quickly push past Jacaerys to meet the servant halfway. “It can’t be, baby Rickon.” You smile and look back at Cregan stepping down from the small platform that holds his chair, before facing the child with dark hair.

“Hello,” you coo at the toddler. “Little Lord….” You trail off and look back at Cregan. “May I hold him?”

Cregan tries hard not to smile as he nods in agreement.

“Hello,” you tell the toddler again as you face him and carefully take him from the servants hold. “Oh you’re so big,” you laugh softly. “What pretty eyes you have…” you steal a glance back at Cregan.

“Y/N,” Jacaerys calls out impatiently.

You ignore your brother and begin to walk after the maester walking you to your chambers. “You may not remember me, but we know each other.”

“H-hello,” the little boy says, making you gush and beam.

“Hi,” you repeat. “Oh you look like your mother. Expect for your eyes,” you say and brush his bangs back. “You have your fathers eyes. Grey like a brewing storm.”

“Hello,” Rickon repeats as he now takes your pendant in his hands.

“Oh, my grandmother gave me that when I left to come here six years ago.” You let him know even if he probably doesn’t understand what you mean. “One side has a three headed dragon, and the other…” you trial off and turn the pendant. “Is a seahorse. My houses.”

“I’ve heard you have a baby of your own,” Cregan interjects as if he doesn’t know already. You wrote about it. “Congratulations, princess.”

You swallow thickly and smile back at him as he follows your brother and you to your chambers. “Yes,” you respond without expressing too much emotion. “A son, Aerion. He’s four months old. He also likes my pendant,” you direct at Rickon. “He puts it in his mouth, just like everything else he can grab.”

“Why did he not come with you?” Cregan asks.

“He stayed at Dragonstone. With things as tense as they are I didn’t want to stress him out, or risk his life. Maybe…once this is over I’ll bring him to meet the North, and see the snow. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“Have you taken him on your dragon?”

You nod and can’t help your soft smile at the memory. “Yes, we have. He loved it, he wanted to reach out for the clouds…he wanted to watch everything. He never cried. But it’s as I tell Aemond, he was meant to fly the skies.” You grin and watch Rickon play with your pendant.

“I’m surprised,” Jacaerys scoffs. “Aemond pays so much attention to Aerion. He doesn’t seem like the father type.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be mean, Jace. And don’t speak on matters you don’t know, Aemond loves Aerion,” you defend your husband. “He’s a very attentive father, so leave it be please.”

Jacaerys lets out a deep annoyed breath and as to not dwell on the matters, you peer back at Cregan. “You should be thankful, Rickon is the very image of his mother.” You shoot him a smile and let your gaze linger, finding it hard to look away.

“To that I am grateful to every day,” Cregan says as he holds your gaze. “It’s a pleasure seeing you again, Princess. We didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

You sigh and glance at your other side, catching Jacaerys watchful eye, so you go serious and hand Rickon back to the servant girl. “Thank you,” you say back. “Lord Stark. It’s a delight being back…I actually missed the North.” You leave it at that and feel thankful that you come to a stop in front of the door to your old quarters.

“You can stay here, Princess,” the maester points out. “Some ladies will come and draw you a bath shortly.” He bows his head and they leave you there to take Jacaerys to the chambers next door. Which is good!

He’s close so won’t give into temptations, and you won’t sneak around. Then again…Cregan is right here.

“I hope to see you at dinner, Princess,” he mutters a bit softer, but not soft enough so as to keep appearances. “It will be in the honor of you and your brother.”

You clasp your hands together and nod softly as you hold his mesmerizing grey eyes. “I’ll be there.”

Cregan offers you a comprehensive nod as he stays close. “I’ll see you then.” He says.

“I’ll see you then,” you repeat softly. “Lord Stark.” You glance down the hall and notice that Jacaerys gaze is focused on the maester talking away, so you quickly meet Cregan’s gaze and tease him with curtsy.

A small smirk breaks out on his face, and he rolls his eyes before he walks away, leaving you giggling to yourself as you disappear inside your old quarters.

It feels like being back home. Funnily enough.

——

*LATER*

There’s so much to pray for, so much to ask for that it feels unfair to actually speak it to the gods. But how can you not ask for your family's well-being? For this war to come to a swift end?

Maybe Ser Jason is right, maybe you can leave. Take Aerion and fly away on Astraea. If Aemond wants to come then he can, but if he wants to fight this foolish war for his brother then he can stay. No matter how much you love him you’d leave without him…

But, on the other hand your mother and your brothers need you, and what kind of person just leaves their family in their time of need?

Wouldn’t it be nice though?

“Still daydreaming?”

Cregan.

You look over your shoulder and see him walking deeper into the Godswood with a charming smile on his face.

“Cregan,” you greet happily now that there isn’t anyone around.

Without an ounce of hesitation you break away from your spot in front of the Weirwood tree, while Cregan picks up his pace to meet you halfway with a mighty embrace.

It’s been so long, no matter what distance you need, you can’t help your happiness and your relief upon being wrapped by his arms again.

“My darling love,” he murmurs as he lifts you a few inches off the ground. “Oh it’s been an eternity it seems.”

You grin and clutch harder onto him. “I thought I’d never see you again,” you say softly.

Cregan sighs and slides one hand to the back of your head to press you closer to him. “How I’ve missed the sound of your voice,” he admits, making your face begin to grow warm and your heart to beat harder.

He shouldn’t be saying these things…

As soon as he puts you back on the ground you pull back to meet his gaze. However, it’s while you do pull back that he cups your cheeks and leans in as if nothing.

You’d let him just to remember his taste, but you can’t do this to Aemond. So you step back and shake your head.

“We can’t do that anymore,” you tell him with disdain to your own protests.

Cregan’s smile fades, he licks his lips and steps back as he nods stiffly. “Right…you’re married now.”

“Yes,” you whisper, “it is good seeing you again though. I have truly missed the North, the snow and…you.”

The corner of his lips pull upward just slightly. “I’ve missed you,” he redirects before he proceeds to glance back at the Weirwood tree. “Forgive me for interrupting.”

You shake your head. “It’s quite fine, I was done already. I was just…daydreaming.” You laugh softly.

Cregan scoffs softly. “I was right then…so what is it you were dreaming about?”

You let out a deep breath and shift around. “How nice it would feel to escape this war.” You look up at the sky and sigh. “To avoid facing my husband who fights against me. To avoid all of it.”

A few footsteps are taken towards you, but you don’t see Cregan by your side. You just hear his voice, “I could offer you and your son refuge here.”

You drop your head and shake your head. “I can’t just leave my mother. Or sit back while everyone fights. I would never forgive myself if someone from my family died while I was sitting here.” You pull the peach-orange pearl from your pocket and begin to fiddle with it. “But thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.” You face him and smile softly. “How have you been?”

“Better now that I can see you again,” he coos and takes a step closer to you. “You look incredibly beautiful by the way. I love that cloak.”

You giggle and pick up the red cloak hanging over your back. “It’s quite impressive isn't it? Now I’m like you. Lord Stark.”

Cregan rolls his eyes lightheartedly. “Stop it.”

Silence then follows and his eyes soften before he changes the subject. “Tell me now that we don’t have an audience. How is your son?”

Your grin brightens and you can’t help but swoon. “Oh he’s so perfect. He smiles now and he tries to laugh but he can’t quite yet so it’s like he’s gasping for air,” you giggle. “And he’s sweet, timid, but very sweet. The gods have truly blessed me. I’m happy being a mother.”

“Good, I’m happy for you,” he mutters with a very faint smile. “I only ask because you have failed to write as much as you would.”

Oh…he’s noticed. Seven hells.

Your smile fades and the glimmer in your eyes begins to go out. “Yes,” you don’t deny his claims and interlace your hands together. “I have been trying to stop writing back.”

Cregan blinks and his eyes narrow just slightly. “Why?” He asks as if he doesn’t assume already. As if he doesn’t know your relationship is forbidden.

“Because I’m married,” you explain. “We have a son and I can’t do that to Aemond. Cregan, I love you, I don’t think I will ever stop, but I love him too. I love my life,” you admit with a faint smile. “I’ve grown to be content with what I have. And I owe Aemond the loyalty and respect he gives me. I want my children to grow up seeing his parents actually in love and not at each other's throats or like strangers that have to live together.” You sigh shakily and approach him now to take his hands in yours. “And I know that if I keep this secret going we will be discovered.”

“Then I will marry you,” he argues. “I will take you.”

You scoff. “That’s if I’m not killed first, or banished and have my titles and name taken from me. I’m not a man Cregan, I can’t have lovers. I’m a woman, a princess, I would be shamed for all my life, ripped away from my son, my family. I can’t be selfish anymore.” Your voice breaks and tears sting in your eyes. “I have to let you go. You have to let me go.” You pull his hands up to your lips and press a kiss on his knuckles. “I need you to do that for me.”

Cregan averts his gaze and turns his head away, causing you to grab his chin and tilt his head so you can meet each other's gazes. “I love you Cregan. You were a blessing for me. You were everything to me. I could never forget you or the time we shared, the love we had for each other. But I…I’m letting you go.”

Cregan draws in a deep breath and meets your gaze with his eyes glimmering with tears. “Does he love you? Does he treat you good? Tell me that or I will forever be restless.”

Without hesitation you give him the truth. “He does. He’s rough around the edges, but he’s good.”

Cregan let’s out a shaky breath and nods stiffly. “Then…I can rest. I can do what you want, but just know, if this war takes him away from you I will bring you back to me. I will raise your son as my own.” He presses his forehead agaisnt yours, and you laugh softly.

“I like the sound of that,” you whisper.

Cregan lingers right there, he pulls his hand away from yours and slides them up to cup your cheeks.

“I love you, y/n Velaryon. Since the moment I saw you trying to climb that wall…”

Tears roll down your cheeks and your smile wobbles.

“I love your spirit, I love your eagerness for this world, the way you love so deeply,” he confesses to you in such a soft manner. “I love you for everything you are, no one in this world will ever compare to you, nor will I ever love someone else as much as I love you.” He closes his eyes and just relishes in your approximaty, he inhales and takes in your sweet scent that is mixed with your dragon's scent. He caresses your cheeks and leans in, but he doesn’t kiss you, you don’t let him even if you want so badly to get one last reminder is his lips. You just feel the warmth of his lips brush over yours.

You bask in this moment too, not wanting to break away, wanting to stay here forever. But you can’t, besides Jacaerys is here, it’s a miracle he hasn��t come searching for you already.

“We have to go,” you break the tension. “My brother, he'll come looking for me, and if he sees us like this he’ll…” you laugh softly. “Snap.” You pull back and offer Cregan a smile. “Besides, we still have some time left together. We still are friends.”

Cregan nods. “Yes we are, and friends can dance together.”

You begin to grin. “Aye, they can, and they can still be around each other as long as my brother is with us.”

“Aye,” he agrees with a smirk. “They can still talk at meal times.”

You hum in agreement and begin to walk past him slowly and with your hips swaying, knowing he was watching you walk away. “Friends cannot share lingering looks.”

“No,” Cregan laughs. “And they can't hold hands or sneak off the castle grounds in the middle of the night, but! They can give you flowers.”

You peer back and nod. “Especially those beautiful Blue Winter Roses.”

“They’ll never compare to your beauty, but yes.”

You roll your eyes ahead and clasp your hands behind you. “I’ll see you later for supper, Lord Stark.”

“I cannot wait, Princess y/n.”

You smile at the ground and disappear behind the wall.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Come to one place expecting to be somewhat entertained by all the drama, but no. No! You’re bored, wondering where the hell Cregan took Jacaerys since dawn.

At dinner the two of them really didn’t have trouble getting along. Which is good your mother did say to get along with him. Albeit couldn’t they let you know? At least with Aemond at King’s Landing he’d be with you, you’d drag him to do things you like and he wouldn’t complain. But here?

Seven hells…

You actually miss Aemond. As you lay here in the parlor room in the castle of Winterfell, here in Cregan’s halls, you miss your husband.

But…you are also delighted to be with Cregan…

Fuck! Why did this have to happen to you? Why not just love one man? Sure what would be the fun in that? But life would be simpler.

You groan and press the pillow against your face. Hopefully, death will take you and solve your hearts issues.

Alas, only mere seconds later the sound of Cregan’s laugh can be heard down the hall, along with two pair of footsteps approaching. And as always you let them know your emotions by pulling the pillow off your face and closing your eyes as the door swings open.

“Sister, I’m back,” Jacaerys announces happily. “I’ve just had the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” he laughs. “Lord Stark and I just went training and he took me to explore the lands that surround this castle.” His voice gets closer as he walks to you laying on the couch.

When you hear him stop before you, he nudges your face. “I know you are not sleeping, what’s wrong with you?”

You exhale deeply. “Boredom, it’s killed me.”

“Gods,” Jacaerys groans.

You open your eyes and sit up to rest your arm on the top of the couch, and then rest your chin on your arm, catching Cregan’s amused gaze.

“It’s so true, you know how easily I get bored, Jacaerys!” You counter and peer back to watch him approach the fireplace. “Why didn’t you let me know where you were going?” You ask.

Jacaerys shrugs. “I don’t need to, and you were sleeping.”

You groan. “Well it’s so good you had so much fun. I had to break fast alone. Which,” you shoot Cregan a pointed glare now. “Thank you for that.”

Cregan scoffs softly and holds your gaze with a small smirk.

You should’ve looked away, but you let your gaze linger and can’t help your lips from pulling to a small smile.

“Hey! Where did you get that pair of clothes?” Jacaerys asks.

You climb off the couch and stretch out your arms slowly, letting the half red cloak swiftly slide down your back. “I packed it,” you say as if it wasn't obvious. “Which reminds me I need to go back home and grab more clothes. I only packed for a week.”

Jacaerys huffs. “Return and you’ll be inprisoned.”

You shrug. “A risk I'm willing to take,” you don’t argue and look down at your tight black jumpsuit that was intended for riding. “How can I show my face if I wear the same outfit more than two times? I can reuse my riding outfits, it’s a risk I can take, but repeating my gowns?” You exclaim dramatically and approach him to grab his arm. “That is a crime worse than death.”

Jacaerys rolls his eyes and tilts his head away from you. “You’re being dramatic,” he grumbles.

You glance over at Cregan who is truly amused by your conversation, so you grin before you wrap your arms around your brother. “You should be worried baby brother, I mean how can you repeat your outfits when you’re trying to impress your betrothed, hm? You need more jewelry, silks!” You laugh and slide away from him. “Maybe grow out your hair? A man with long hair is very much eye catching.” You smile sweetly and spare a quick glance at Cregan.

Jacaerys follows your quick line of gaze and then looks back at you. Albeit you just ignore it and sigh as you begin walking to the door. “Well, I’ll go, be bored somewhere else where people enjoy my company.” You approach Cregan and bow your head. “Lord Stark.”

Cregan’s eyes lock with yours and follow you as you slowly walk past him.

“Wait,” Jacaerys interjects, making you instantly freeze and go stiff, causing Cregan’s eyes to snap off you right away. “Is this yours?”

You look past your shoulder and blink as you see him holding up your orange pearl. “Yes,” you agree and walk back to him.

“Where did you get it? It’s very pretty,” Jacaerys says and moves it around.

“Don’t worry about it,” you deadpan as you reach him. “It’s mine give it.” You reach over to take it back, but he pulls his hand away. “Jace.”

Said man begins to smile as a thought goes off behind his eyes. “It was that knight wasn’t it? Ser Jason?” He snickers and keeps moving it away from you. “You have been talking with him a lot!” He points out, making you cringe since Cregan was here.

“So what of it?” You snap back and grab his arm to yank it towards you and snatch back your pearl. “He’s my sworn protector, I can befriend him.” You turn on your heels and storm away.

“What would your husband say?” Jacaerys taunts. “He was fuming when you were dancing with Lucerys.”

“<Shut up,>” you sneer in High Valyrian.

Jacaerys snickers, and as you walk past Cregan again you avert his gaze.

“Wait,” Cregan this time interjects, forcing you to stop in front of the door and look back—“the day is clear, the breeze is calm, we should go hunting, all of us. I remember how much you enjoyed walking in the forest, Princess.”

Smart.

“Only if Jacaerys will go,” you rebuttal and meet your brothers gaze.

Luckily Jacaerys gives you a smile and an accepting nod. “Sure, let’s go.”

You grin and clap your hands, waiting for both men out in the hall before you lead them out to the armory to grab what you need.

“Y/N,” Jacaerys calls out softly. “I was telling Lord Stark, here what a good singer you are. And that maybe at dinner you should sing something.”

Singing isn’t something you do with anyone besides your family and Aerion. The name they call you, “the Siren of Driftmark”, was only given to you by your grandfather Corlys, and it spread because your father would talk when he was drunk. Aemond would always tell you not to hide your talent, he says that the gods blessed you for a reason, but, it just never came easy to sing in front of strangers.

“She brought our grandfather Corlys to tears once,” Jacaerys shows you off proudly. “And he is a very closed off man.”

You can feel Cregan’s stare, but you avoid it. “I did not know the Princess could sing,” he says. “She never graced our halls with her gift,”

You try to brush off this request quickly. “I don’t sing in the common tongue, I only sing in High Valyrian. They won’t understand me.”

Cregan scoffs softly. “We don’t need to, my mother said songs are emotions. We don’t need to understand you, we’ll feel what you’re singing. Sadness, grief, happiness, love…it’s all in the way you sing.”

You sigh deeply and shrug. “Maybe I’ll sing something small. But don’t rely on it.” You reach the courtyard soon thereafter and feel thankful that you can leave this conversation by distracting yourself by picking up your weapons.

And the moment you do begin walking out the castle grounds you pull the attention away from their request. “Okay, I need to tell you two something I got told by a red priestess when I went to town a few months back.” You hang the bow around your shoulder to skip ahead and start walking backwards to be able to face the both of them.

“A red priestess?” Jacaerys query’s. “What were you doing talking to witches?”

You scoff and counter. “She’s not a witch! A priestess! And she told me if you don’t let me talk you’ll get an arrow through your throat.”

Jacaerys rolls his eyes and you gracefully continue.

“To put it simple so you boys can understand—”

“Y/N,” Jacaerys scolds, not knowing that Cregan won’t take offense to your quips.

“I have fire made flesh, salt littered blood,” you ignore him. “I will have three more children who will all live good lives,” you grin happily, but Cregan’s smile falters at the mention. “And I’m in search of hearts, one made of ice, two of fire. I don’t know what that means but it sounds interesting. And! She said that the fire is kind to me, that fire will kill the girl and awaken the dragon, hm? Also that loyalty can be seen in the surface of clear waters.”

“Well that one is easy,” Cregan interjects with curiosity. “You see your reflection when you look at the surface of clear waters. Blurry, but it’s still you.”

“So what? Find loyalty in yourself?” Jacaerys adds on to the comment.

You nod eagerly. “Yes! I’ll find loyalty in myself.” You smirk now and shrug. “I still have yet to figure out what she meant, but I quite enjoyed getting that told to me. And I did enjoy sharing it outloud” You twirl back around and leave the conversation at that to rush towards the forest line ahead of you.

Since you know these woods like the back of your hand you don’t wait for either man to catch up, you navigate past the trees, over branches spilled on the ground until you spot a creek with fish residing inside.

They move fast. Some twirl up dirt with their tails as they swim around fast, clouding the sight of your target as you pull out your bow and arrow.

“I saw a rabbit nearby,” Jacaerys points out as he and Cregan catch up to you.

You line up your arrow and raise your bow. “I don’t hunt rabbits,” you murmur.

“She gets too sad,” Cregan says, causing Jacaerys to glance at him weirdly. “She’ll eat rabbit, but she can’t hunt it herself.”

“Mhm-mm,” you hum as you draw in a deep breath and lock your eyes on a glimmering grey fish. It moved fast by you follow it.

That is until you suddenly feel someone blow in your ear. You don’t need to loo back to know it was Jacaerys.

“Quit it,” you grumble and keep your eyes on the fish. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“A good hunter works through their distraction,” Jacaerys taunts.

“Not if the distractions breath smells,” you quip back and let the arrow go, managing to hit a fish directly in the eye and causing it to squirm. “Haha!” You exclaim and put your bow down. You then look back at Jacaerys and Cregan, and shoot them a cocky grin. “What’s my prize?”

Cregan begins to smile, and Jacaerys remarks. “A child can do that, you’re not special.”

You roll your eyes and go and pick up your trophy out of the water. “Fine then, you do it. Hit a fish right in the eye. Fish here aren’t like the ones in Dragonstone or Kings Landing, they move fast here, use the dirt to hide.”

Jacaerys blows out air and brushes you off to now take the spot you stood on to hunt, letting you take his spot by Cregan and secretly high five over your achievement. When Jacaerys aims his arrow you begin to taunt him back by kicking a rock in the water and making the fish scurry around.

“Stop it,” Jacaerys hisses.

You snicker and wait for the fish to gather again before you kick a branch in the water.

“<Bitch,>” Jacaerys swears at you in High Valyrian.

You feign an offended gasp, but rebuttal. “<Small dick boy.>”

Now that wasn’t anyway for either of you to talk, you’re royalty, but you only talked like that to each other.

“What did you just say?” Cregan asks quietly as you watch the fish gather again.

You glance at him and smile before you pat his arm and assure him. “Nothing lady like.” You slide your hand off his arm, but let your hand brush against his.

Jacaerys then proceeds to shoot his arrow, but he doesn’t hit anything even if the fish are an easy target.

“What?” You exclaim. “I thought it was easy.”

Jacaerys glares back at you. “You kept distracting me,” he complains.

You snicker. “No excuse. You just suck.”

Your brother ignores you and marches to the water to grab his arrow.

“While you two were squabbling, a flock of birds landed not so far from here. I’ll throw a rock and we have to shoot one down from here.” Cregan suggests, making your eyes go wide with interest.

“Let’s do it,” Jacaerys quickly inputs to try and prove his worth.

Cregan shoots you both a half grin before he walks a few paces ahead to pick up a pebble. “Ready?” He asks as he looks back at Jacaerys and you.

You pull out another arrow and your brother pulls out his before he responds without checking if you actually were. “Ready!”

Cregan takes what he needs and then hurls the pebble to where the birds are. The moment the pebble hits something, the birds get startled and fly out to the sky, causing all three of you to aim your arrows up at them. Albeit as the men shoot directly at the birds, you aim to the sky and wait for a bird to approach. As it gets close to your aim, you shoot at the sky.

“That was a big fail,” Jacaerys immediately teases you, but he quickly falls flat because the bird flies directly through your aim and gets hit through the eye.

“What?” You laugh. “I win!”

The bird falls through the trees not far away from where you stand, and you turn even more smug. “Now imagine me hunting on dragonback. It’s very fun.”

Cregan rolls his eyes and then begins heading to where his bird had landed. “It’s dangerous.” He yells back.

You break away from your spot and walk to your trophy. “I’m restrained!” You assure him.

Jacaerys scoffs and follows behind you since the bird he managed to hit landed near yours. “Then how do you hunt? The restraints must hold you back.”

“It’s a lot of teamwork between Astraea and I,” you explain and look to the sky as if Astraea was flying above you. “She glides and I aim. It was hard at first, but now it’s like she knows where I want her to move.” You grin back at him. “I can show you!”

Jacaerys sighs and shakes his head. “No thank you, I don’t want your death on me, Aemond would skin me.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s safe. But if you don’t want your sister to overshadow you,” you then whisper so Cregan won’t hear in the distance, “in front of Lord Stark, then I will have to show off my skills later.”

Jacaerys playfully narrows his gaze on you. “Go ahead.”

You shoot him a happy smile and then proceed to hurry through the woods to collect your trophy. Now the rest of the day is spent talking about whatever came up, laughing and just enjoying each other's company.

Having your brother with you now felt so exciting, not like before. Sure you enjoyed Cregan’s company, and liked his friends that also became yours, but having family with you is different, it’s more relieving, you can be more yourself, it’s just better in every way. Even if you squabble a lot.

Cregan also seems to enjoy Jacaerys company, he especially finds amusement in the way you two argue and taunt one another as well. He says that it seems that Jacaerys and you really share a strong sibling bond that he envies. Maybe in a different life, one where you married Cregan—

No…you can’t feed into that thought, no matter how nice it may seem. So, pushing that aside, the day passes right under you, the sun sets without either of you paying attention; that’s how much you all enjoyed each other's company, how you forget about the war that looms. And it’s because of your long day that you fall asleep quickly without having to think about Cregan at night; and how much you want to be in his company alone in his chambers.

You didn’t wake until a knock rapped on your door with urgency.

Jacaerys? What may he want that he can't wait to tell you later?!

“Come in,” you respond to the visitor as you sit up on your bed.

The door opens and the maester comes in. He stops at the doorway and averts his gaze right away since you are considered indecent. “Princess,” he mutters to the ground. “A raven just arrived from Dragonstone.”

Your mother…what happened?

You sigh and climb out of your bed to take the scroll from his hand. “Thank you, maester.”

Said man bows his head and quickly scurries away to leave you to yourself. Once the door is closed you break the wax and unroll the scroll, realizing right away that the handwriting on the paper is not your mothers.

“Prince Jacaerys & Princess Y/N,

I write with urgency and great sorrow, your brother, Prince Lucerys has passed—”

The air in your lungs escapes with your gasp, and your heart sinks right away, but you still don’t believe the news.

“—The Greens have struck their first blow, Prince Aemond killed Prince Lucerys in Storm's End. The details of what happened aren’t clear, that’s all we know right now. But you had the right to know. Stay in Winterfell for a few more days for your safety. Be wary.

Daemon.”

No…no, he has to be lying. It’s Daemon playing games.

You begin to pace the room, feeling a weight on your chest and your mind running mad with different thoughts, outcomes, arguments.

Aemond couldn’t have done that. No it’s not possible, you told him not to act against your brothers. He couldn’t have done it.

You shake your head and face the fire lit in the fireplace. Daemon wouldn't play with news like this, but Lucerys. Sweet Lucerys can’t be gone.

Yet no matter how much you try to deny it you know, deep within that it is true. That your little brother is gone…

Oh gods…

You fall to your knees and begin to sob alone, wishing that the accused was actually here now to comfort you.

But he isn’t here, you’re in Winterfell, feeling all that joy and relief crumble and get consumed by sorrow and darkness. You’re in Winterfell away from the comfort of your mother, you’re here only with Jacaerys.

Jacaerys…That’s right, you need to tell him.

However, when you try to share the news he isn’t here, he’s out with Cregan again. So you wait in the parlor room, crying as you lose your gaze in the sky above the balcony.

It takes a while, but at long last your brother and Cregan find you.

“I know, I know I left,” Jacaerys comes in saying with nothing but joy in his tone. “But hear this, Cregan accepted to fight with us.”

You’re too grief stricken to speak, and the only one who notices right away is Cregan.

“What’s wrong Princess? You plan to ignore us?” He playfully says.

With tears running down your cheeks, and the scroll trembling in your hand you slowly turn to face both men with sorrow painted all over your face, catching them by surprise.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Jacaerys asks with immediate concern. “Is it Aerion?”

You sniffle and offer him the scroll. Jacaerys glances at the shaky sheet before looking at your tears and cautiously approaching you.

“You can’t get upset, Jace,” you warn him. “Please don’t lash out.”

Jacaerys scoffs and snatches the scroll from you. He turns to give you his back and you finally meet Cregan’s gaze, catching the pity and the longing to comfort you now, but unable to.

“No,” Jacaerys gasps and goes stiff. “No. That can’t be…” he trails off, and he soon begins to breathe hard before he balls up the paper in his hand, and throws the vases on the table beside him off the surface.

“Jace,” you quiver out.

Your brother ignores you though and begins to stomp away, mumbling under his breath. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Jacaerys!” You yell, catching his attention now.

“You read the letter,” you mumble. “We have to stay. Please.”

Jacaerys slowly faces you with tears rolling down his cheeks, and that just breaks you even more. He sniffles before he breaks away from his spot and approaches you to immediately wrap you in an embrace.

You hug him back and cry into his shoulder while your mind also went back to Aemond.

You’ll get the truth from him. He couldn’t have done it on purpose, no he couldn’t have. He knows how much that would hurt you…

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark

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lumosinlove · 5 months

Text

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

(cw in tags if you wish)

Five: Sirius

Athens, Greece

Sirius wasn’t reckless. He thought before he did—probably too much sometimes. He kept himself in line. Maybe it was a product of a strict upbringing. A smack on the cheek or hand at one wrong move. He used to think it was what made him so good for the agency. Salazar liked strict. They liked obedient. James, therefore, hadn’t quite made sense to Sirius as a candidate, at least not in the beginning. Not until he showed Sirius that it wasn’t just about following orders. It was about heart, too. Camaraderie. Remus had shown him that, too. Still, Sirius couldn’t always shake that rule-following kid.

But if Remus was on the rooftops getting shot at by Jack Archer, who had just been holding a gun to Logan and Finn’s heads, all bets were off.

Jack was smart though. He took Sirius right through the now bustling Christmas market. Small children strapped the the chests of fathers. Women in groups laughing and catching up over coffee. Carolers by a central fountain. Sirius caught glimpses of alarmed eyes as he ran, always keeping the back of Jack’s head just in sight. He tried not to add to the mess on the street, narrowly avoiding the cart Jack had carelessly rolled into his path. He sprinted past the pissed vendor. He knew he should hide his gun. Lights blurred beside him and the sun came out from behind a cloud, then went again. His feet pounded the pavement. The streets narrowed. Jack stumbled on the stones in front of a cafe, sending cups shattering to the cobblestones and making a shop owner run out and shout at him. For a second, Sirius thought he was going to catch up. He swiped forward at the fabric of Jack’s shirt, but Jack rolled and then was up on his feet again. Sirius lunged. He didn’t care who was watching. He didn’t care if they saw his gun. His arms wrapped around Jack’s waist and they both hit the cobblestones hard, rolling into another table. Sirius felt something hot splash against his neck, something sharp dig into the skin of his wrist.

Jack was up again in a moment, using a hard kick to Sirius’ ribs to knock the wind out of him. Sirius gasped, coughing as he scrambled up from the ground and away from the alarmed onlookers. He yanked the shard of ceramic out of his arm. Jack slipped around a bend in the street—but this was one Sirius recognized. He’d chased Remus—or the ghost of Remus—right into this corner.

When he held his gun up on Jack, Jack’s hands were around the bars of the very gate Sirius had run into their first day here.

“Dead end, Archer,” Sirius said. “Now tell me why you’re here.”

Jack at least knew when he’d been caught. His shoulders moved quickly, breathing hard as he rested his forehead against the gate.

“Did you know?” Sirius could hardly say the words. “Did you know they were alive?”

“Sirius—”

“Get the fuck down,” Sirius said, striding closer until they were both hidden in the alleyway. He risked a glance behind him. “On your knees.”

Jack went, knocking the damp hair out of his face with a jerk of his head. Sirius could see both of their breath fogging between them. “We didn’t know. Not until Leo found Remus.”

“And you want them dead.”

Jack’s mouth formed a thin line.

Sirius didn’t have time for this. His mind kept skipping back, trying to figure out who had been shooting from the roof. RemusRemusRemus.

“Why?” Sirius asked. “Why do you want them dead? They’re our own, what changed? And I swear to God, answer me, or I’ll bring you to James.”

James was sweet. James was funny. James was relaxed and kind and easy-going.

James could also get information out of anyone. He was their top interrogator, had been since the academy. How do you do it? Sirius had once asked. Sirius had never liked seeing terrified faces up close. James had gotten a sad, faraway look on his face. I pretend they have Lily. And Harry. And then I don’t feel so guilty. I just want them to talk. I make them talk.

Jack seemed to have heard the rumors because he paled. “Listen. This is Salazar. You’re here to find them and bring them in. That’s all I’m here for, too.”

Sirius thought briefly of telling Jack about Logan’s memory, but Remus’ careful hazel eyes filled his mind. Unsure. Untrusting.

“Why pull the gun?”

Jack’s eyebrow arched. “Tremblay was holding a gun on his own husband. Who, by the way…” Jack made a scornful sound. “Should not be here.”

It was Sirius’ turn to stay silent. It was a sensible response, but that didn’t mean Sirius believed him.

“What,” Jack laughed a little. “You think we wouldn’t know?”

“I couldn’t stop him.”

“Liar.”

“That makes two of us, then,” Sirius said. “Why are you here?”

“Is he turned?” Jack asked in a hushed voice, eyes dark. “Is Lupin?”

“Turned where? By who?”

Jack shook his head slowly. “Liar.”

“I’m not.” Sirius swallowed over a dry throat. At least, not entirely. Pascal. Pascal, whoever he was.

“You don’t want to get on our bad side, Black,” Jack said. His hand twitched, maybe towards a knife, and Sirius stretched his gun forward. Jack’s smile was tight. “I think Tremblay’s enough proof of that.”

Sirius stared at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but stopped as though his words had frozen in his mouth. He snapped his lips shut, then a strained cough escaped. A twitch went through his body, almost like a pulse of electricity, and he sat back against his heels. Sirius hesitated, watching Jack blink fast at the cobblestones before raising his eyes to Sirius.

“Who the hell are you?” Jack asked, eyes darting between the two guns. He scrambled backwards, the gate rattling when it hit his back. “What the hell?”

Sirius froze. He clicked the safety off on his own gun. “Don’t bullshit me, Archer.”

Jack blinked at him, eyes unfocused. “I…”

Another twitch, a strange pulse through his body. Jack gasped. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose. He swayed where he was, and his hands went to his head. “Ah—” Sirius watched his face screw up in pain. Jack stared up at him. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Jack—” Sirius began to say, but then Jack fell against the pavement, as suddenly as if someone had pushed him, with a harsh thud.

Sirius felt something cold squeeze around his throat. Dread, maybe. Adrenaline. Slowly, he lowered the guns, tucking one into his belt and swinging the other behind him, doing a quick scan of what little of the street he could see. He raised it up towards the roofs, then crouched in front of Jack.

His eyes were open, lips parted, blood quickly drying on his skin. He was dead.

“Jesus,” Sirius whispered. “Jesus, fuck—” His hand went for his radio, and then he paused. It was Salazar’s radio.

If anyone had told Sirius just a week ago that that would make him pause, he would have laughed.

Sirius checked Jack’s pulse—nothing—and then cursed as he heaved his body up against the wall as best he could. There was no point in trying to move him, not with the city waking up. Someone would have to find him like this. Sirius turned Jack’s collar up, closed his eyes, and took the wires off of him. He took his knives—all the ones he could feel anyway—and the second, small gun he found tucked into his boot.

He walked in the opposite direction of the cafes, towards the still mostly sleeping residential streets. There had been no blood, not that much anyway, but Sirius checked his hands and front before calling out to a man sweeping the steps in front of his house with a cigarette between his teeth.

The man didn’t put up much of a fight, just handed Sirius his cellphone before waving him off and going back to the chore.

The line picked up immediately.

“Lion den,” Sirius said into the tone. It was their secure line. If Salazar knew about it, they’d be dead, but Finn’s tracker wasn’t the first illegal backup Leo had set up. James hadn’t seen the point, hadn’t seen what they’d ever have to hide any comms, but Leo had insisted. Now, Sirius was glad. After Archer and Remus and Logan, he didn’t know who to trust. A headache was building at the back of his skull.

“We’re not at the house,” Leo said instead of hello. “After Archer, I didn’t think we should go back there.”

“He’s dead,” Sirius said.

He heard Leo’s sharp inhale. “Sirius—”

“It wasn’t me,” Sirius said. “We were running, I got him. And then he didn’t recognize me all of a sudden. A minute later, he was dead.”

Sirius’ heart was going so hard he had to press a hand there. The sweeping man didn’t even look up. The gray light hurt his eyes.

“Where are you?” Sirius asked. “Leo. Are you all together?”

“He’s dead?” Leo asked. “But—how? And what do you mean he didn’t recognize you?”

“I don’t know, I thought he was fucking with me, because maybe he knew Logan—but how would he know Logan couldn’t remember? I…” Sirius pressed at his eyes. It was as though someone was shining a spotlight right in his eyes. It ached. “I don’t know, Le. Where are you? Where are you?”

“Sirius,” Leo said. “I can’t find—I can’t find you.”

“What?”

“I can’t find you—Jesus, here, I’m dropping this number our coordinates—but Sirius, your tracker’s offline.”

Sirius felt the phone vibrate with the incoming text. He looked, memorizing quickly. It would disappear entirely in a minute, erasing itself.

“He didn’t recognize you?” Leo asked. “He didn’t…”

“Leo,” Sirius said, and then dropped to a knee. God, his very bones ached. His skull.

“Oh God,” Leo said faintly, and then, a little farther away from the phone, he shouted. “James!”

Sirius ducked away from the gray light. The cold wind. His head was killing him. “Fuck.”

“Eh!” The man stopped sweeping, looking at him. He said something fast in Greek, but Sirius was hopeless to translate just then.

“Sirius,” Leo said, voice closer now. “You’re tracker. Cut it out right now.”

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Cut out your tracker right now,” Leo shouted. “You said Jack forgot and then he was dead, there’s nothing that would cause that except—” Leo cut off with a short cry.

“Leo?” Sirius said.

He heard Finn’s voice in the background. Leo! Oh my God—

Then Leo’s. Cut it out, Finn. Right there, remember, feel it? Finn, stop fucking staring, do it, do it, it’s going to kill me and James—

“Finish?” the man asked him, alarmed. He was holding out his hand for his phone, but didn’t look like he wanted to get much closer to Sirius. “Hey, finish? Finish?”

“Help,” Sirius said. “Please—” He pulled the Greek out but he didn’t know how. Autopilot, maybe. “Sir, please may I use your bathroom? It’s life or death.”

The man began to shake his head, but Sirius didn’t have time—he shouldn’t have even asked. The man shouted as Sirius hauled himself up and stumbled past him. He shouldered through the small, wooden door and found himself in a living room—tidy and smelling of cinnamon and coffee. It connected right with the kitchen, not unlike their safe house. The dim lamp by the sofa stung his eyes, glaring as if it were a sun. Sirius blinked hard, looking for something sharp, anything.

“Hey!” The man tried to grab his shoulder, but Sirius shook him off easily. There was a knife, small, laying beside a sliced lemon. Sirius grabbed it and all but fell against the sink. A small vase on the window sill above slipped and shattered into the basin.

The man’s protests was no more than a ringing in Sirius’ ear as he groped at the back of his own neck. What the hell are you doing? Are you insane? Are you sick? Hey, my wife and children will be back soon, come on, brother, don’t scare them. Put the knife down, put the knife down—

There. Sirius felt the bump. Was he imagining that it was hot to the touch? It didn’t matter.

He didn’t even feel the pain of the blade. His adrenaline was so high that it felt like nothing at all. Butter. A slip. Only the red on his hands let him know that he had succeeded. That, and the small, pill-like chip clutched between his fingers.

The pain evaporated and Sirius drew in a ragged breath.

No sooner had he dropped the tracker into the sink than did it let out a high-pitched sound and crack itself in half.

His hearing returned. He blinked his vision back to normal. He worked the pressure out of his jaw. The tracker released a thin trail of smoke.

Sirius, he tested. Sirius Black. He knew himself. He knew the coordinates.

When he turned, breathing hard and sweating, he grabbed an old, dirty looking cloth and pressed it to his neck. It didn’t look like anyone would miss it. The man was simply staring at him, eyes darting between his face and the device in the sink.

“Thank you.” Sirius breathed the words out. Greek, or at least half way there. “I am sorry. I am sorry.”

Without another word, Sirius raced out the door.

+++

The coordinates were an abandoned building right on the coast. Sirius could smell the salt. The cold air was made colder by damp. He had stopped the bleeding of his neck and turned up his collar to keep the rag in place. Everything felt wet and slippery now. Recent rain on the rocks beneath his feet as he walked up an old pathway.

There was nothing inside, it was merely a somewhat reasonable roof of their heads. Shelter, nothing more. Just broken down boards and stone walls now.

To anyone else, it looked empty.

Sirius whistled two notes.

Two notes returned from his left where the sea and horizon bled into each other, framed by a still standing window. It could have been a painting. A TV.

James appeared in front of it, wild hair haloed by the light.

“Fuck,” James said, and then they were hugging. Sirius face ended up near a slightly pink bandage on James’ neck, and he sighed his relief all over again.

“Fuck me, we had a bomb in our head the whole time, Si.” James reached up and brushed the bandage with light fingers. “Just an average day on the job.” His eyes went to Sirius’ neck. “What did you do it with?”

“Fucking kitchen knife, man. You?”

James’ laugh was shaky. “One of my daggers on Leo and I. Finn did it. Think he’s a little freaked, but he did it.”

“Oh Jesus, I should have…” Sirius shook his head. He had his own and he had Jack’s. “Didn’t have to traumatize this…God, never mind. I fucking broke into someone’s house.”

James laughed again, but he looked pale. “It’ll be fine. I was so scared I didn’t even feel it.”

“Same.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Jack?”

“I left him,” Sirius said. “Took everything off him. People will think…I don’t know. But there’s nothing to lead back to Salazar or us.”

James nodded, taking that in. “Salazar’ll be looking for us now that they can’t find us.”

Sirius nodded. “I know… I know they will. We have to move.” They began walking towards the sea window. “How did you end up here? Where are the others?”

“Finn and Leo are with Logan.”

Logan. God, Sirius hadn’t forgotten, of course he hadn’t forgotten, but what a strange thing to hear. After all these months, just a simple Finn and Leo are with Logan.

No sooner had James said it than did the Leo appear. He had an identical bandage to James and held one out to Sirius, along with an alcohol packet.

“Clean that,” Leo said.

Sirius tossed the bloody rag away. “Did yours smoke, too?”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “The second I started to get a headache—Finn said that’s what happened to Logan, too. Said he fell down in pain. But…” Leo frowned in the way he did when he was thinking something over, when something was so entirely perplexing to him that he was sure to pull an all nighter. Sirius had seen him many times after those. Blond hair a mess, coffee mugs lined up besides the water and the electrolyte packets.

“Where…” Sirius began to say. He’d only gotten a glimpse of Logan and it was beginning to feel more like a dream. His slack face. There had been blood? Hadn’t there?

Leo moved aside, revealing a half-collapsed hallway. No, it was more like an nave. Sirius looked up and realized that the remnant of a vaulted ceiling remained, stone and precarious. This had been a church.

Wind whistled through, a high note off the sea, when Sirius saw them. Finn and Logan were at the other end, a corner mostly intact and protected from the cold. Finn was awake, staring down at Logan’s face like he couldn’t stand to look away, not even for a moment. Logan was—asleep?

“Knocked out.” Leo filled in his thoughts. “Finn said he remembered him in the alley, but he’s been out ever since.”

“And his tracker?”

“It’s gone,” Leo said. “I checked.”

“But if Salazar wanted him dead…”

Leo nodded, already there. “Then whoever took it out probably saved his life."

“But he can’t remember us,” Sirius said.

Leo rubbed a hand through his hair, then pressed his fingers to his mouth, thinking. There was blood beneath his nails still, a crust of red even smeared along his jaw. Sirius had the sudden urge to wipe it away for him.

“You said Jack forgot who you were a second before he was killed,” Leo said. “I’m guessing—and this is only a guess—that this is some sort of…kill code put into place in Salazar’s tracker hardware. A memory wipe in case we get captured, and then a kill switch if there’s no hope or if we might crack and tell all.”

“Jesus,” James whispered.

“I’m guessing whoever took out Logan’s didn’t do it in time to prevent the memory wipe. And that’s calling it real close, I don’t know…”

Remus. Sirius could hardly breathe. If he hadn’t seen that footage for himself, he’d be on his knees all over again, desperate and afraid.

“Can you reverse it?” James asked. He was chewing on a thumbnail, looking down the hall. “God, please say you can Leo.”

Leo let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know.” He looked down the stone archways towards Finn. As the three of them watched, Finn reached out a hand and brushed Logan’s hair back from his eyes gently. “I don’t know.”

#cw: minor character death #cw: blood/wound mention #Christmas Eve will find me Lumosinlove #winterfic lumosinlove 2023 #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #amnesia au #spy au #ficmas #Leo knut #finn o'hara #Logan tremblay #o'knutzy #finnlo #lelo #lionfish #sunfish

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johnkahner · 5 months

Text

Request: could I please have Mileena x afab reader fluff alphabet? (pronouns don't matter do whatever, I'm agender afab though so I prefer afab reader)

AN: Apologies that this took longer than expected. I started writing this on Nov. 20th, but I just got it done. I've had stuff going on irl, and didn't feel like writing lately. Also for this I used "you" to refer to the reader instead of he/she/they.

Notes: Gender-Neutral! Reader, Fluff, Not Proof Read

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Mileena would adore how you would show your appreciation for the ones you care for. If someone would dare to insult her, how you would try your best to shut them up. Even if it results in violence. She likes a woman that has a bite in her.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Your lips would probably be her favorite. So soft looking, pretty, like your lips are pulling her in so they could kiss her.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Likes to lay her head in your lap while you play with her hair.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Would love to attend a festival with you. Hand in hand walking around to see the vendors and other stuff there.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Mileena would express her emotions when she is stressing out about her duties and her infection of Tarkat. She feels calmer whenever you are around.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

She’s the Empress. She’ll need an heir to the throne of course. She would consult with you first, and see what happens from there.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Mileena wouldn’t know what to give you as a gift. Sure she could give you expensive items, but would it be something you would truly appreciate? She would most likely give you gifts on anniversaries or holidays.

H = Honesty (do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?)

She doesn’t hide anything from you. Once you two are a couple she doesn’t feel right keeping things from you, so she’ll tell you anything you want to know.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

A switch in her brain snaps. She goes feral wanting to know how you were injured. If it was another person that did it, they are dead meat. But she’ll clean up your wounds first of course.

J = Jealousy (do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?)

She gets jealous easily, but she’ll try her best to keep it under control.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

To be funny I would like to say Mileena would like to french kiss you (because of tongue hehe); however, I feel like she would like to eskimo kiss you.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Her love language is probably words of affirmation. She’ll say the classic “I love you”, she’ll hug you, and maybe she’ll probably give you a teethy kiss.

M = Marriage (do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?)

Of course! She’ll most likely propose at a banquet or something like that. The marriage is a blissful one. You’re married to the Empress! Now that the two of you are married that doesn’t mean your responsibilities to Outworld of change. You help each other with one another’s duties.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

She worries that one day you will contract Tarkat. She doesn’t want you to experience the scrutiny and pain she has experienced.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

She likes to teasingly nibble at you. Not too hard to leave a bite, but she just likes to play around.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Darling, Love, or Precious.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

She likes to do anything you like, but she’s fine with just sitting and having a cup of tea with you.

R = Romance (how romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?)

Mileena doesn’t see herself as the classic “romantic”. While she does whatever she can to make you happy, she can be a bit awkward about it. She tries to be creative because she isn’t the biggest fan of clichés.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Of course she is protective, you are in a relationship with the Empress of Outworld. She would have Li Mei assign her best soldiers to protect you. She would be flattered if you were to protect her, but it would make her sad if you were to be injured on her behalf.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

After spending some time with you, she would ask you if you would like to start courting each other.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

It pains her to see you upset. She’ll try to be there for you, but if you want to be alone she’ll respect your wishes.

V = Value (how important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?)

The relationship is as important to her as her being Outworld’s Empress. If she had to choose between the two, she would choose you of course.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

She would love to fight you. Loves seeing the energy you have in battle. If her opponent was someone that was threatening you she would fight them for you, but if you insist she will fight along with you.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Just by looking at you she can tell how you feel.

Y = Yearning (how will they cope when they’re missing their partner?)

She will head to the training grounds and fight the soldiers when she is missing you.

Z = Zzz (how do they sleep with you?)

She likes to rest her chin on top of your head with her arms wrapped around you. She loves to have you in her arms. You look so peaceful in her opinion.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat imagine #mileena #mileena x reader #fluff alphabet

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thefrogdalorian · 4 months

Text

All The Nice Things in Life

Din Djarin x Neurodivergent GN!Reader

Word Count: 2569 Rating: General Summary: During your usual weekly trip to your favourite Market on Nevarro, you get a little overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. Fortunately, you have an exceptionally caring and attentive Mandalorian for a partner, who manages to calm you down and make you see that you are not a burden to him, despite your worries. Content Warnings: Mentions of anxiety/panic attacks and description of sensory overload. Author's Note: Finally got round to moving this fic to tumblr! It's the first I wrote in my Din Djarin x Neurodivergent Reader series and I really hope it brings you some comfort should you ever need it.

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Despite your best efforts to keep the panic that had been threatening to overwhelm you since you had set out that morning inside you, and not let Din see… things had gotten too much for you to handle and you had finally lost your composure. Fortunately, you were back in the sanctuary of the Cabin on Nevarro you shared with Din and Grogu before you fully lost control of yourself. You had tried your best not to give the impression that you were struggling, you hadn’t wanted to worry Din – the man was too attentive to your every need. You hadn’t wanted to ruin your day out but you had just about managed to make it back to the cabin before you exploded.

It had started off just like any other way you spent this particular day – heading into Nevarro’s town centre to explore the weekly Market. Since Din had asked you to move in, it was part of the routine you had enjoyed together. You hadn’t slept particularly well the previous night, nightmares had plagued you, so you already felt slightly on edge. But you hadn’t wanted to let Din down, you knew it was something that he always looked forward to each week. On this particular day, a variety of vendors came to the planet to show off their latest wares that they had accumulated throughout the galaxy. You weren’t always sure how legitimate some of the characters were, given the astonishingly cheap prices, but you had experienced enough in this life to know better than to ask questions. Grogu enjoyed going almost as much as his father did, the little womp rat loved nothing more than running you and Din ragged between stalls, begging for food with his big pleading brown eyes. The number of times you had scolded him for using the Force to try to steal things behind your back was bordering on ridiculous. But you loved the mischievous little boy and you couldn’t help but find a way each week to convince Din to give him a treat of some description.

You hadn’t wanted to give any hint that you felt off that morning when you woke up.

Due to your nightmares, you were awake and out of bed before Din. You had used the fresher first, when you came out you had gone straight to Grogu’s room, not having the heart to face him – fearing that he would sense that something was off. You had heard Din pottering around the cabin, having a shower in the fresher and eventually padding to the kitchen to brew the caf - as was your daily routine. You brought Grogu in and as the three of you sat down at the table to eat a simple breakfast, it almost felt normal. An idyllic family scene against the chaos and discomfort that raged inside of you.

After breakfast, as Din packed some bags up of things he wanted to bargain with or sell to vendors at the Market and carefully polished his beskar’gam, you knew you didn’t have the heart to tell Din that you weren’t feeling well. You knew that if you gave even the slightest hint of discomfort, that he would have soon forgotten about his own desire to go to the Market and put everything into worrying about your well being instead. It was amazing how caring he was, but you felt like a burden to have someone care for you that deeply. The guilt of feeling like you were somehow ruining his life was too much sometimes. You wondered if he ever yearned for the simpler life he had when it had just been himself and Grogu here.

But you had successfully managed to push those feelings down somewhere deep inside of you and put on a brave face. Things had been going well and you had managed to get over your initial apprehension about going to the Market. A ride on the back of Din’s speeder – with Grogu perched in his little bag – had certainly helped. Any time you got to hold the man you loved so much around the waist and feel the warmth from his body beneath the beskar was bound to settle your nerves.

You had arrived at the Market just before the afternoon rush and when the heat was at its highest. Things had been fine, your earlier apprehension seemed to have been forgotten. Grogu had been a little mischievous, whining for food and looking admiringly at a Loth-cat plush that you had eventually managed to persuade Din to give into his reservations and buy for him. The kid had enough toys, but truly the thought of seeing Grogu cuddling a little Loth-cat was doing wonders for your mental state. The way his little face lit up as you placed it into his chubby green claws and he squeezed it – like Din had once told you he had squeezed and Anzellan droidsmith – did, in fact, soothe your nerves. The sight was one of the cutest things you had ever seen.

You had spent a comfortable hour or so walking up and down the various Market stalls, Din by your side. Occasionally, when you got to more crowded areas, he would place a protective hand on the small of your back. It always made you feel so loved, feeling what good care he took of you and how unashamed he was to show his affection for you in public. You knew how many heads Din always turned, curious glances that were sent the way of you and your shiny Mandalorian.

But at a certain point – without much warning – things began to feel too much for you to bear. Suddenly, everything felt overwhelming and you wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Not being able to see Din’s face wasn’t helping – those kind, gentle brown eyes that you loved so much. Perhaps it was the heat and brightness of the sun; or the overpowering noise of the conversations of hundreds of people fighting against the yells from the vendors; or the crowds that did not seem to thin no matter which way you turned, making you feel as though you were trapped; or the way everyone seemed to be staring at Din. Your rational brain knew that they were just intrigued seeing a Mandalorian back on Nevarro, but the more irrational parts of yourself felt paranoid that everyone was staring at you – judging you. You felt your head beginning to buzz loudly; every noise felt agonising and every step you took felt heavier and heavier until you could not take another. You had to get out of here.

“Din, I need to get back to the speeder.” You mumbled shakily, before running off back through the crowds towards where you had come from. Your body felt as though it was on autopilot and you were back in a flash. Somehow you had managed to part the crowds and fight your way back.

Mercifully, Din had quickly found his way back to the speeder and you did not have to wait long until you saw him. You noticed how his chest was heaving, he must have sprinted after you. He immediately noticed the way you were trembling and moved to place his arm around your shoulder.

“Is there anything I can do here to make you feel better?” Din asked, his modulated voice full of concern.

You shook your head.

“Do you want to go home?”

You nodded slowly, grateful that he was asking questions that could be answered with a nod or shake of the head. He was so attentive in that way.

“Okay, it’s fine, cyare.” Din soothed. “Get your goggles on and let’s go.”

You clung so tightly that you feared you might suffocate him, but of course you were a trembling mess; even at your strongest you would be no match for the tough mandalorian warrior that you loved so much.

When you made it back to the cabin – mercifully it was a relatively short ride – Din took Grogu to his room for a nap, while you paced in the living area, wringing your hands. Finally, when Grogu was settled, Din made his way into the room. Mercifully, he had removed his helmet and changed into some more comfortable clothes. You respected he had to wear his helmet and armour when you were out and about, but you appreciated just being able to see the man beneath the armour when it was just the two of you here.

“Do you want to discuss what caused it? Din asked, seeing that you were clearly still distressed.

You just shook your head and quickly headed towards the comfortable couch in the main living area. You plopped down there, covering your eyes with your hands.

“Can I hold you?” Din asked, his deep voice never failing to surprise you in how soft it could be.

You nodded, feeling the tears you had been holding in being suddenly violently ripped out of you as Din’s arms snaked their way around your body. With him you always felt safe, you felt a certainty that things were going to be alright that you had been chasing for so long.

“Hey, hey… please take a deep breath.” Din asked, “Match my breathing.”

Din placed your hand on his chest between the two of you, so you could feel the deep breaths he was taking and try your best to match your own to them. But it was hopeless, though you had tried your best to fight it since the moment you had woken up, your anxiety had won the day.

“This is so stupid, I'm so stupid.” You choked out as you sobbed inconsolably.

Din’s heart ached to see you this upset, he wished you could see yourself the way he saw you. The love he held for you and Grogu was more than he had ever hoped to find in his life. Din had spent so much of his life alone and now having experienced the honour of loving another made him wonder how he had ever dealt with life alone.

“You are not stupid.” Din whispered. “You are the furthest thing from stupid.”

“I’m so weak and pathetic, Din. I ruined your day… I know how much you wanted to look at the stalls with the plants for the garden here and we couldn’t even make it that far before I ruined everything, just like I always do!” You said as you shook violently.

“Look at me.” Din said, releasing his strong hold on you but keeping a protective arm around the small of your back as he tilted up your chin to meet his kind brown eyes that were filled with so much concern for you. “You are one of the strongest people I know.”

His words brought your tears out in fresh floods, but they were no longer the violently distressed sobs that had wracked your entire body. You were moved by his emotions towards you.

“You’ve been through so much and yet you’re still here.” Din soothed. “I admire your strength. I wish you weren’t so hard on yourself, cyar’ika. If someone spoke about you the way you spoke about yourself… I would hunt them down and make them pay for daring to speak about the person who holds my heart like that. But it’s you… so I can’t. It breaks my heart to hear you talk about yourself in this way.”

Din released your chin – not before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead – and pulled you back into a tight hug.

“Please tell me what I can do for you.” Din said into your hair, softly.

“Just hold me, Din.” You asked.

Din stroked his thumbs against your shoulders gently and you felt yourself relaxing into his touch. Sometimes when you got overwhelmed, the thought of being held was disgusting to you… but with Din, he always seemed to know exactly what you needed. You knew if things ever felt too overwhelming, though, that Din would take no offence to you asking him not to touch you.

Once you had calmed down enough, you were filled with an overwhelming need to apologise again:

“I’m so sorry.” You said quietly, struggling to meet Din’s gaze. “We were supposed to have a good time at the Market. I wanted to get an ice cream with Grogu at the end.”

“Will you stop apologising please?” Din said calmly. “Grogu had a wonderful time, we spoiled him with that Loth-cat plush, which he’s currently cuddling as he naps. He had more than enough to eat!”

“I’m sorry… dank ferrik! I’m sorry for saying sorry again!” you laughed

“What am I going to do with you?” Din rolled his eyes lovingly and pulled you back towards him, planting a soft kiss on your forehead again. “Apart from spending the rest of my life loving you?”

“I don’t deserve you, Din.” You said, blushing.

“Of course you do… I would be lost without you. I was lost until you and Grogu came into my life.” Din said solemnly, brown eyes momentarily flickering with the pain that life as a solitary bounty hunter had caused him. “But now you’re here… I’m not letting you go without a fight. Even if I have to fight you for being mean to yourself sometimes. Okay?”

“Okay.” You replied, his words were exactly what your frayed nerves needed to hear.

“We’ll get through this.” Din reassured you. “We always do… you always do.”

Later on – after you had woken up from the nap that Din insisted you take after the exhausting toll getting into such a state had taken on your body – you smiled as you the smell of your favourite dish drifted down the hall and into the bedroom from the kitchen. Din was still learning how to cook properly but he always made an effort for you, despite his inexperience and general clumsiness in the kitchen.

You walked towards the kitchen, thanking the Force for the day it made you cross paths with Din Djarin, wondering what you would do without him. Din’s face immediately lit up when he saw you walk through the door and – as you sat down to eat with your boys – your heart felt lighter already as you looked at the pair of them. The meal was delicious and clearly prepared with a lot of love, even if it did not look all that appetising… you knew that Din had tried his best.

After you had finished eating – complimenting Din’s efforts throughout – your favourite Mandalorian insisted that he had a surprise for you. As he pulled the treat out of the freezer section of the conservator, you realised exactly what it was – the ice cream from your favourite Vendor at the market. Somehow he had gotten hold of it; it must have been when you were taking your nap.

As you sat there at the table, indulging in your favourite sweet, creamy treat that the man you loved so much had gone to such trouble to source for you – after realising how upset you had been to miss out on it at the Market before – you realised that this was exactly what you deserved in life.

You were not a burden, you knew Din would never view you as a burden. You deserved all the nice things in life.

#my fics #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fluff #din djarin fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #neurodivergent reader #neurodivergent representation #so happy to finally have this one on tumblr... it means a lot to me <3

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