#adding tags to aid in navigation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiwriteswords · 4 months ago

Note

I love the way the marriage of convenience fic turned out!! If you write more about that I will gladly read it! Thb I'm getting obsessive about it 😂

You set it up so well and I have so many questions about what could happen next and what is going through everyone's mind. 😁🥳

Like a Feather [Aaron Hotchner x Reader x Marriage Contract]

Masterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: Thank you for requesting this!! I'm so glad you liked the first one! I'm loving this universe. Trying to navigate how I can make them all flow cohesively without feeling like you need to read them in order. Would love to see more requests for this universe! I feel like I could take it in so many directions! Tags/Warnings: female reader, marriage of convenience, contracted marriage, canon-typical themes, flirty!reader, bold!reader, girly-girl!reader, non-bau!reader, stressed!hotch, mentions of Jack Hotchner, mentions of Haley Hotchner, Traumatized!Hotch, can be read solo if you realize they're forced to live together and are technically married. Summary: For your own safety, you're forced to marry and live with Aaron Hotchner, but his apartment just won't do.

When you’re told, you need to marry a political figure’s daughter to protect her. It could go a million-and-two ways wrong.

When Strauss and every single bureaucratic name stood before Hotch and assigned him of this--so-called, task--he thought of each way this could have gone utterly wrong.

But living with a complete stranger wasn't as bad as it sounded.

Jack took a liking to you quickly. Your past volunteering at children's hospitals and with struggling youth was more than just keeping up political appearances. There was a fun and nurturing side to you that Hotch was glad.

Jack is always and has always been his first priority when this assignment was sprung upon him. How would this affect him? So seeing that it was only helping or aiding in his upbringing, even temporarily, Hotch would take it.

What Hotch did notice is every day he would come home from the BAU, and things would look a wee bit different.

It started with the curtains.

He had long panels that did the job of keeping light out, but one day, he came home, and you had added frills bordering his windows. The once stark and utilitarian drapes now fluttered with soft, feminine edges that seemed to dance lightly with the breeze.

He didn't mention anything, but a week later, there were the throw pillows. What was the point in pillows that took up the entirety of the sofa that you would move just to sit on? They had buttons and cream-colored trim on them, sitting plump across the couch, asserting their presence in every available space.

He went along, noticing more and more touches of you throughout his apartment.

Floral arrangements in vases on every surface added bursts of color where none had been before. A shrubby wreath with a giant bow now adorned the front door, greeting him with an almost jarring cheerfulness each day.

The bathroom's once beige shower curtain was now replaced with a yellow gingham pattern that screamed sunshine, transforming a previously muted space into one that could rival a sunny day in a meadow.

Your bedroom became a reflection of the woman you were--bright and loud, but it began to seep outside of the rest of Hotch's apartment.

Each new addition, each piece of you that filled up his space, was like a small declaration that this arrangement was becoming more real than either of you might have initially expected. The stark lines and muted tones of his world were slowly being overrun by a storm of femininity, each frill and floral arrangement a soft but undeniable takeover of the life he had meticulously organized.

This was no longer just his and Jack’s sanctuary; it was a shared existence, vivid and continuously surprising, much like you.

One day, as Hotch came home from a grueling day at the BAU, he was mentally ready to unwind.

He placed his briefcase by the door and headed straight for the cabinet to pour himself a finger or two of whiskey--a small ritual that marked the transition from his work life to whatever semblance of personal life he could muster under the current circumstances.

As he reached for a glass, he paused, sensing an unusual commotion at the entrance. Turning around, he saw two burly security guards maneuvering through his doorway, carefully balancing a Tiffany lamp between them. The sight of these stern men handling such a dainty, stained glass-colored item was incongruous enough to leave Hotch momentarily dumbstruck.

He had become familiar with the two men--your bodyguards that followed you even before this crisis at hand, but they often remained quiet. Taking shifts at the front door of the apartment.

The part of Hotch that was riddled with trauma and overthought every move for his son was silently grateful for the added protection for his family as well, but seeing them like this? They didn’t seem like the type of men who could fend off a fly with the way they so awkwardly manhandled the delicate glass.

He watched, eyebrows raised, as you directed them with a flurry of indecisiveness. "There...no, there," you called out from across the room, pointing first to one corner and then another, clearly struggling to find the perfect spot for the new addition.

Hotch's curiosity overcame his initial reserve, and he approached, asking, "What's the lamp for when we already have"--he paused to make a quick inventory--"five perfectly good working light fixtures?"

You placed your hands on your hips, your expression mixing defiance and a hint of amusement. "This lamp is not just functional; it’s beautiful and decorative," you explained with a firm nod, as if that settled the matter.

Hotch glanced at the lamp, then around the room at the various changes you had implemented since moving in. "I've noticed all of the little touches," he acknowledged, his voice neutral but his mind reeling from the rapid feminization of his previously stark and only functional space

You gave him a faux pout, a playful challenge in your eyes. "Don’t you like it?"

"It’s not that I don’t like it," Hotch started, searching for the right words that wouldn’t offend. "It’s just very...” His voice trailed off, words like 'girly' and 'feminine' hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he opted for a safer, "different from what I’m used to."

He’d like to tell you that this wasn’t the set for some Better Homes & Gardens photoshoot, but he figured he’d keep that to himself.

You quickly interjected, a hint of seriousness underlining your playful tone. "This place was a home to two men before I was forced to move here, and now I'm being forced to live here. A little warmth never killed anybody, you know." Your voice softened, reminding both of you of the odd circumstances that had thrown your lives together in this compact, evolving space.

Hotch took a moment, the tension in his shoulders easing as he considered your perspective. The lamp, with its colorful glass and intricate metalwork, suddenly didn’t seem like just an intrusion of your taste into his life, but more like a symbol of the blending that was slowly, inevitably happening between your worlds.

"Alright," he conceded with a small, conceding smile, "let’s find the perfect spot for it together."

As you both moved to adjust the lamp, Hotch realized that these small concessions, these little adjustments to his environment, were not just about accommodating you, but about finding a way to coexist peacefully, respectfully, and maybe even harmoniously under the most unusual circumstances.

His apartment had purely served a place for he and Jack to rest their head at the end of the day. Most of the decor were things that he had leftover from his home with Haley--mostly things that weren’t painful to look at. Various photos, trinkets, and books. But that was about it.

His idea of art was the sailboats Jack loved to paint or color. The walls were the same brown color from when he purchased this apartment years before. Everything about it was purely functional. Not frill or unnecessary bit about it.

He hated to think, in some ways, you might be forcing him to finally greet this part of him that he’d prefer to keep in a metaphorical storage box on a shelf somewhere.

---

Hotch walked into the BAU the next day, his demeanor as serious as ever, but with an unusual addition--a feather lodged in his hair. He began to present the new case in the roundtable room, fully focused on the task at hand, unaware of the curious artifact adorning his head.

JJ, always observant, interrupted him mid-sentence. “Hotch, come here for a second,” she beckoned with a slight smile, motioning him closer. Confused but compliant, Hotch approached, and she delicately plucked the feather from his hair, holding it up for him and the rest of the team to see.

The team erupted in a mixture of laughter and bewildered expressions. “What is that?” Morgan asked, trying to stifle his chuckle.

Hotch let out a deep sigh, the kind that spoke volumes before words even formed. “It’s from the new throw pillows on my couch,” he explained, a trace of agitation seeping into his voice. “Feather-filled. I fell asleep there last night.”

Emily quickly chimed in, her tone half teasing, half serious. “Woah, woah, woah, you can't complain when this girl was ripped from her life--”

Morgan interrupted with a smirk, “--a very cushy life,” emphasizing the luxury she was used to, “to live with Mr. Functional here.”

Hotch opened his mouth to argue, his brow furrowing in frustration, but Spencer was quick to add his perspective, “I’ve seen Hotch’s apartment, and they’re right. It’s about as warm and welcoming as an interrogation room.”

The team’s laughter filled the room, but beneath the humor, there was a palpable sense of camaraderie and support. Hotch, realizing the futility of his frustration in the face of their united front, let out another sigh, this time softer, conceding the point.

“Alright, alright,” Hotch conceded, a small smile breaking through his usually stoic facade. “Maybe a few feathers aren’t the worst thing in the world.”

---

Returning from a local case that had wrapped up, Hotch walked back into his office without a thought, ready to sink into the routine of paperwork that awaited him. The room was dim, shrouded in the early evening gloom that only the setting sun breached through the slats of the blinds. As he moved to switch on the light, his hand paused mid-air when he noticed a figure reclining on his couch. It was you.

"What are you doing here?" His tone carried an edge, the surprise mixing with a flicker of irritation as he flicked on the light, flooding the room with stark brightness.

You sat up, blinking against the sudden light, your voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I was bored at your apartment," you explained. "It’s lonely there, and this was the only place my bodyguards agreed I could go for a change of pace."

Hotch closed the door with a soft click and set his briefcase down with a heavier thud. The lines of his face were drawn tight, his mind racing through the security protocols and the weight of the responsibility he bore. "You know it's not just about boredom," he started, his voice firm as he leaned against his desk, facing you. "The threats against you are real and severe. We've already seen what they’re capable of. People have been injured, some killed. This isn’t a game."

Your expression softened, regret flickering across your features. "I know, Hotch. I do," you replied quietly. "It's just...hard, feeling so cut off from everything and everyone."

Hotch sighed, the initial resistance in his posture easing slightly, though his expression remained serious. "I understand that it’s difficult," he conceded, his tone softening. "But taking risks by moving around isn’t the solution. We need to ensure your safety, and sometimes that means making hard choices--choices that might not be the most comfortable."

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words, but a hint of rebellion lingered in your eyes. There was a pause, a charged moment where the gravity of the situation seemed to hang heavily between you. "I get it," you said finally, your tone a mix of acceptance and frustration. "I just wish there was a way to make this feel less like a prison."

Hotch straightened, his expression stern as he considered your words. He understood the isolation you felt; he’d seen it many times in witness protection situations, the toll it took on individuals. Yet, he couldn’t compromise on your safety.

"We might find a balance," he suggested cautiously, his voice firm. "We can explore safe activities, perhaps more interaction with approved personnel, or even secure outings. I’ll discuss options with the team--see what arrangements we can make to keep you engaged but protected."

Your face brightened slightly, a spark of hope igniting in your eyes. "Thank you, Hotch," you said, a genuine smile briefly touching your lips for the first time since the conversation began.

"As for being here," Hotch continued, his tone still carrying an edge of authority, recognizing the need for rules even within this concession, "you’re welcome to stay in the office whenever necessary, as long as it’s coordinated. We’ll set some ground rules, make it work."

You nodded, relief apparent but quickly tempered by a sharp retort. "I’d appreciate that, really. And frankly, this place might be a fortress compared to your apartment," you quipped, challenging him with a playful yet piercing look. "Plus, your entertainment setup is tragic. Have you ever heard of When Harry Met Sally? It’s a classic, and you don’t even have it. What kind of living situation is this?"

Hotch raised an eyebrow, the challenge in your tone bringing a small, wry smile to his face. "I wasn’t aware that my DVD collection would be under review," he responded dryly. "I’ll make sure to update my library to meet your standards."

As Hotch watched you settle back onto the couch, the interaction had sparked a realization in him. This wasn't just about providing security; it was about accommodating a life--not just any life, but one thrust into his care under extraordinary circumstances.

He didn’t know it yet, but you were teaching him a whole new way to look at life.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @superlegend216

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #marriage contract #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #kiwriteswords #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminalminds #aaronhotchner #Aaron Hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner reader insert #criminal minds fluff #hotch x you

306 notes · View notes

sweetlywriting · 1 year ago

Text

Allegiance

Part 1 Part 2

Feyd Rautha x Reader

Sypnosis- To save your weakening house you propose a marriage to Feyd Rautha through the creation of a flower that blooms in color, even on the black and white planet of Geidi Prime. Though the stakes are high-if the flower does not bloom, you must face Feyd in the arena instead of the altar.

Warnings- Manipulation and toxic behaviors, blood and violence, enemies to fiancés to deep mutual understanding(?)

A/N- Read part 1 first! It will make a lot more sense!(it’s good I promise) + lmk if you want to be added to the tag list <3

You scanned the topography of Geidi Prime desperately from above your spacecraft, surrounded by your attendants as they aided in your search. You all carefully watched for a glimpse of a yellow flower in the barren black and white land.

“Bring me my armor, quickly.” You ordered the attendants. The ship was getting too close to land and you had seen no evidence of the blooms. The fortnight had come. Your flowers had failed and thus your proposal. Now you had to face the consequences with your life, fighting in the arena.

“Surely we can wait a bit longer-“ One of your closer attendants said in a worried voice.

“We cannot, you must leave me here and quickly go back home. Do not come back. If I die do not retrieve my body.” You said, trying not let a tremble in your voice. Feyd was a gamble, and you were a fool to take it. Your attendants silently lamented as they quickly undressed you from the beautiful ceremonial dress into heavy armor.

You embraced the attendants you had known since childhood and got off the ship, watching as it quickly receded back towards your home planet. You were greeted by Harkonnen servants as they led you to what only you could assumed would be the arena. Though as you walked through the twisting hallways of the palace you ended up in a private garden-your breath caught in your throat seeing a large bloom of yellow flowers. You had succeeded. Relief flowed through you as you tried not buckle to the floor. Alongside the flowers was Feyd, walking up to you and gesturing for the servants to leave.

He pulled one of the flowers, striding your way and you hesitantly stood your ground as he came closer, able to feel the heat of his breath fanning your neck but never letting your eyes off the sheath at his side as he placed the yellow flower in your hair and drew away.

“I like your attire.” He said in a mocking way. You knew it was unusual to wear armor to an engagement, though only until some seconds ago you were convinced on having to fight a battle to the death.

“But I can’t say I didn’t expect it. I think it rather suits you.” He said, running his eyes over the armor well fitted to your figure. You pursed your lips. He knew you wouldn’t see the Solaris flower if he kept it in a garden. He knew you would see the absence and prepare for battle. He wanted you to feel that fear. ‘What an awful trick’ you thought trying to swallow the infuriation.

“Didn’t bring any attendants either hm?” He said laughing lightly but you could see the adding irony in his little trick. By making you think you had lost the gamble you had to send your people back for their safety-but now you had lost a share of your own safety, completely isolated and surrounded by Harkonnens in their own territory. He had turned out to be much more manulaptive than you thought.

“So . . . you’ll marry me?” You asked wanting to get this done as swiftly as possible.

“Yes, I’ll keep my word. Though my family isn’t quite as . . . accepting. You’ll have to prove your worth to them yourself, I can only offer you some protection. And of course I don’t have to that.” He said, dragging out the last sentence in his sly voice.

“Let’s see if you can survive a week.”

***

For a month you had navigated the difficult environment of the Harkonnens house estate, writing encrypted letters to your family, learning Giedi Prime’s complex local languages, and trying not to get assassinated by your future in laws.

Even now, with the privilege of a seat at their dining table, you didn’t dare take more than sip of your drink or eat anything served cold. Heat killed poison, so you opted for things that burned your tongue, relishing in the taste of living another day. They didn’t speak much, but you knew if you survived today the honorary courtship of one month would be over, and you could finally marry Feyd and send your people the aid they truly deserved. You kept this in the forefront of your mind as you learned to deflect the Harkonnens veiled threats and insults. Feyd did little to ease this-sometimes adding on or jesting along with them.

But as you started to walk back to your designated chamber on the thirty first day after dinner you felt relief flood through you. It was over. You could sleep peacefully tonight, marry Feyd, and quickly return to your home planet-

You turned as a sharp pain grazed your shoulder, sparsely dodging a dagger aimed to your chest. Immediately starting to run from the hand that had dealt it. Glossu Rabban Harkonnen. Feyd’s cousin and previous commander to Arrakis. He had sneered at you and paid you the respect of an attendant, but had shown no sign of wanting to kill you nor anything to benefit from it.

The pain was intensifying as you continued to sprint, you couldn’t run forever. But where to go? The guards were all Harkonnens, all your people had left, and you had no allies on this hollow planet.

But perhaps one. He didn’t seem to care for you, much less your life, but this was the only chance left. You prayed he was in his room.

“Feyd” you rasped knocking fervently at his door willing it to just open, to just-

“This isn’t what I told you to do.” You heard a voice hiss, from . . . behind you?

You turned to see Feyd and his cousin arguing in hall behind you as you slumped to the foot of the door clutching your shoulder.

“You asked me to test her-“ Rabban said indignantly.

“Not like this-“ Feyd hissed.

“It’s fine, it was just a little scratch and she came to your room anyway-“

Rabban stopped mid speech as the Feyd quickly pulled out his own blade, the sound of metal clashing reverberated in your head for what felt like hours until Rabban began to retreat. You paid no mind, cursing yourself for being stupid enough to come to Feyd’s room when he gotten you into this very situation. ‘Of course it was just another ‘test’, simply another mind game for him’ you thought.

You frowned as he approached, but he hauled you by your uninjured arm and pushed you into his room. You stumbled on to a chair and watched as he dug around cabinets and chests setting salve, alcohol, and dressing bandages on a table.

He didn’t offer any apologies or condolences for what he did, but rather took his own blade to the same point you had been slit, quickly running his dagger through his own shoulder.

He didn’t speak or seem to mind the fact his own blood was staining the white floor red as he dressed your wound. Deep red ran down his arm and traced itself over the curvature of his veins.

Seeing the way he ignored his wound as though it was simply not there, the way his eyes focused on your cut with sound precision, the way he ripped the long bandage with his teeth-you began to understand why house Harkonnen repayed blood with blood. You had the odd urge to kiss him.

“We are allies.” He said this with little emotion or regard, as though stating a fact. Your loyalty had been proven, and now so had his.

For the first time since you had gotten on this morbid planet you laughed.

“I suppose we’ll having matching scars to wear for our wedding.”

Tag list: @szapizzapanda, @moonsoulk, @unicoreads, @avidreader73, @flower-frog

#fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #feyd x you #feyd x reader #feyd rautha #dune x reader #dune part two #dune 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen #how we feeling #next part y’all are getting married!! + honeymoon to sand land + increasing political intrigue!

199 notes · View notes

asumofwords · 2 years ago

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels! Here is the next chappy hehe, goodness me, I am so glad that we all enjoyed the last chapter haha! What a ride this has been honestly, you all crack me up ahaha <3 Enjoy!

Chapter 99: To Set The Future Sway

Aemond Targaryen had been ten years old when he lost his eye.

That year he had been gifted new tomes from his grandfather Otto, and his mother had lemon tarts freshly made for him as a treat, the boy too shy to tell her that they were not in fact his favourite, but yours.

He had snuck down to the dragon pit that day with you to eat them, watching as Syrax’s golden scales glimmered in the flames of the pit, large glimmering dragon purring and growling in the darkness.

It had been a great challenge for a child so young to be put through such a horrific and traumatic experience as having ones eye taken. What was more, the actions of his family afterwards, and the dealings of their response thereafter did naught but rub salt in the proverbial wound.

Neither adult had reacted in a way that helped Aemond. In fact, it only served to prove as a further detriment to him, and his view of the world.

But more than that, watching you, his only companion at such a formative age, stand alongside his attackers, bastards, and declare for them instead of him had hardened something inside of the young Prince. Made it curdle and fester, calcifying rapidly as the spite that had grown within him became malignant.

You had protected them. Them. They who had mocked and teased him for years, them and his brother; who stood idly beside him, having not come to his defence out of the fear and wrath of their father.

His view of the world, of people, of his family and what little friends he had, had been inexplicably scarred that evening, much like his face. He walked with more careful steps, more angry movements, and had grown into a bitter and spiteful man, only aided by his mothers disdain and words of encouragement in his ears.

But Aemond had not let his disability strike him down, he had simply grown himself around it. He trained harder, for longer, making a promise to himself that he would never be bested like that again, never be struck down without striking first.

And to never hold back.

Where others would look at him in fear, he would play to it, own it, make himself a man to not be trifled with. A man his brother even feared at times, not that he could fear him any longer. A man that women would whisper about in court, and the men would avert their eyes from.

He needed it that way.

To feel safe.

After the many years of your separation, being dragged to Dragonstone without even a chance to say goodbye, seeing Aemond again in the Red Keep had struck many chords within your chest.

Grief. Sorrow. Anger. Rage. Remorse. Guilt.

Fear.

But as you looked into his seeing, and unseeing eye in this moment, you felt none of those things.

Instead, you felt something entirely different.

Shock. Disbelief. Pride. Adoration.

Love.

The Conquerors Crown that sat snugly against Aemond’s head, did not look at all heavy where it had on Aegon’s. It seemed as though it was an extension of Aemond. An extension of his every being, a manifestation of the man he had built himself to be.

The smooth Valyrian steel did not make his long silver locks stick up in different ways, his tendrils were still held in place, held by the braids you had encouraged him to wear.

Aemond’s violet and sapphire gaze had not left your face once since seating himself upon the Iron Throne, nor when you had placed the Conquerors Crown atop his head. The King’s fingertips had brushed the skin of your cheek, smearing the wetness that had landed there.

The blood that had landed there.

But Aemond was not unmarred by the killing of his brother. He too wore the red substance on his face and robes, the lightest of arterial spray that has streaked up his face diagonally, in the motion that his sword had cut through the flesh and bone of Aegon’s neck.

The small specks of blood on his cheeks were drying rapidly from the heat of his face, oxidising and growing darker, small cracks and flakes appearing in the smattering.

And yet despite this, despite the fact that you most certainly should have felt some sort of horror and disgust towards him, you could not, and your heart had fluttered in your chest as you looked at your husband in triumph.

In hunger.

He had done this for you.

A final show of his devotion and love.

Your head turned to look down the steps of the Iron Throne, gaze skimming over a distressed Alicent Hightower, who sat hunched over her eldest son crying, whilst Otto and Ser Cole stood nearby. And then your gaze shifted, over to the Lords and Maester who looked at both scenes before them with uncertainty. Fear.

Turning back to face your husband, you called out loudly into the chambers.

“King Aemond Targaryen, First of His Name, Son of King Viserys the First, King of the Stormland’s, Westerland’s and the Reach, Ruler of Oldtown, The Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, King of the People of Kings Landing, and Protector of His Realms.”

The Small Council muttered amongst themselves as you looked out at the room beside him. All Lords, guards and knights bent the knee, bowing their head down towards their new crowned King. Even Ser Otto Hightower bowed, but Alicent looked up at her son in disbelief.

You turned back to your husband, hungrily watching him, a wave of warmth flooding you.

He had done this for you.

He had killed Aegon for you.

Aemond was King.

Your husband.

“My King.” You breathed quietly, eyes roaming his face hungrily.

Sensing your intentions, Aemond’s voice boomed into the chambers.

"Clear the room.” He commanded, voice crisp and clear, and all men obeyed.

Alicent however, did not, and had to be dragged from the corpse of her eldest, sobbing into her fathers arms as she muttered prayers to the Seven through hiccups, and curses at the two of you.

The chambers were emptied, bar you and Aemond, and the corpse of the once King that still lay, untouched on the stone floors before the throne. Your eyes cast backwards to look at the body, a sick smile spreading across your lips, before you looked back at your husband, who devoured you with his lone eye.

Your core clenched, watching him intensely as heat settled into your gut.

He had killed Aegon for you. Before everyone. Before his mother.

His last sibling.

And for you.

All for you.

Your Aemond.

Aemond pulled you forward with his hand, and you climbed up onto the throne in his lap, knees pressed against the leather of his cloak below you. Your fingers raced to untie his breeches, neither of you daring to break the eye contact you held.

His length was hard and heavy in your palm as you pulled it out of its confines, tip already leaking heavily with precum.

Killing his brother had aroused him.

Being crowned had aroused him.

The violence of it all, the triumph, the ending of years of suffering and mocking making way to a new time of power and strength. Autonomy. Each aspect of it had made him throb in his breeches before he had even sat on the throne.

You pumped him in your hand quickly, a breathy sigh falling from his lips as his large palms skated up your thighs warmly, calluses scratching your soft skin, before they dived beneath your skirts, feeling your already drenched folds.

It had aroused you too.

Aemond smirked up at you, cheek twitching as two digits rubbed through your folds slickly, “All this for killing my brother?”

You sighed, squirming in his lap, pleasure sparking up through your gut, "All for you.” You breathed.

A finger pushed through your folds and into your core, hooking upwards to rub against the spongey spot Aemond could find within seconds, “So wet for your King.” He purred, shifting his hips upwards as you gave him a particularly hard squeeze.

The words caused a shiver to race down your spine, your hips lifting, Aemond pulling his finger from inside of you as you lined him up with your sopping entrance. Your uncle watched your face, a hand coming to bush against your cheek, the blood upon it drying and beginning to flake as you sunk down onto his length with a sigh.

Aemond groaned loudly in the chambers as pleasure shot through you, Aemond’s cock reaching deeper with the angle, brushing against your fluttering walls, the stretch of him sparking delicious pain through you.

Slowly but surely you began to ride him, hands atop his shoulders as you looked at him. Despite him sitting and you on his lap, he was still taller than you, but your faces were levelled as you ground down on his length, his head dipping, feeling your wetness begin to pool in his lap.

The throne room was filled with the sound of your wet heat and the moans and groans that came from the both of you as you fucked yourself atop him. Rewarding him for his actions. Rewarding yourself for getting him to do so. Desperate to reach your peak as adrenaline still coursed through you.

“My King.” You whined, eyes closing momentarily as you threw your head back, sensitive bud brushing against the soaked material of his breeches.

Aemond groaned loudly, hands coming to grab the flesh of your ass as he guide you down onto him harder and faster, “Say it again.” He groaned, eye on your face.

“My King.” The head of his cock bullied the deepest part of you, every single inch of him brushing against your most sensitive places as you felt him in your stomach, your release beginning to climb within you rapidly.

Aemond fucked up into you harder, feeling your walls begin to tighten, hips lifting slightly on the seat of the Iron Throne, your fingers digging into his shoulder for purchase.

“My sweet, Lady wife.” He purred, rushing forward to capture your lips with his.

It was messy, and rushed, full of passion, and devotion and love. He nipped your lips and you whimpered into his mouth, one hand skating up to brush against the skin of his neck, pulling him closer.

The change in angle shifted, and Aemond’s length beat into the spongey spot within you, the pressure rippling up through your body as you reached your peak suddenly.

You cried out loudly, writhing atop his lap as he fucked you through it, hips clapping up into yours.

“My Queen.” He grunted, rutting into you viciously and prolonging your release. Aemond thrusted a few times more before he tumbled over the edge with you, hot ropes of his seed filling your walls as you clenched around him.

“Fuck.”

You breathed heavily, warmth flooding your limbs as you slumped against him, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass as he gently rocked you back and forth atop him, riding out his peak for as long as possible.

As you stilled atop him, core still gripping his length tightly, you felt the adrenaline begin to simmer, your body and mind rapidly tiring from the weight of it all.

You pulled your face away from his chest and looked up at your husband.

Your King.

King.

Your fingers brushed against his pale cheek, where the lightest dusting of freckles that had faded with time were still there, only now, they were covered with a dusting of blood. Your eyes raised higher, and you looked to the crown that sat as it was meant to be atop his head.

He was so handsome. So beautiful. And yours.

Always yours.

From the training yard, to the passageways, to the library, and the kitchen, and the garden, Aemond Targaryen had always been yours. And would be yours forever more.

Fire and blood, as the Gods had made it so.

You would burn together.

Your chest swelled with warmth, looking at the deeper flecks of lilac that sat in his iris whilst his mouth was slightly parted, breathing shallowly as he watched you. You leant forward, pressing a kiss to each cheek, feather light as it were, his body shivering beneath you, and then atop his seeing eyelid, feeling the long white lashes tickle your lips.

Then, to his scar, kissing a pathway to travel up the length of it gently, careful to not hurt him. You had felt him tense beneath you when you did it, but the more you pressed a kiss to the length of the healed wound, the more and more he relaxed.

Finally, you pressed your lips to his own.

“You were made to be King.” You purred as you kissed him, hand cupping the side of his cheek as he leant into it. He hummed deeply, chest vibrating against yours as his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass.

Desperate to show him the warmth that you felt for him, you kissed sweetly at his mouth, soft quick ones that left him chasing after you for more, “I love you.” You cooed, hoping that he felt your thanks.

Your praise.

Your adoration.

His lips parted against yours as he smiled, and you pulled back, bare inches to see it, warmth creeping back into your core.

The King leant forward to kiss you, his lips breaking the tenderness for a moment to breath into your own, “And you, my Queen.”

Your walls tightened around him, arousal sparking back inside of you. Aemond tilted his hips up slowly, grinding into you with purpose, and you felt him begin to harden again.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat

Bold is who I cannot tag!

500 notes · View notes

trashclangen · 6 months ago

Text

Info & disclaimers

The Me

Anon | They/Them | 25+

I go by AnonSpice anywhere I have an account, but just calling me Anon is fine

I'm an adult. I'm very boring. Minors plz do not DM, I will tell u to get off my lawn

My main blog: @anonspice My general art blog: @anonspiceart Commissions and tip jar: Ko-fi Patreon (Thumbnails of Trashclan posted as they're made, 1-2 Moons ahead of public schedule depending on tier) You can also read Trashclan on ComicFury

I'm also sporadically active on:

Cohost

Bluesky

Youtube

Toyhouse

The Actual Serious Comic

If you enjoy things such as dragons, a consistent upload schedule and stories fully scripted ahead of time, I recommend checking out my proper comic, Don't Slay the Dragon! @dstdcomic

When drought strikes the kingdom, an ailing young wizard ventures into the forest to secure the aid of an ill-tempered dragon. A simple comic about disability, isolation, and finding strategies to navigate life, even if unconventional. Updates Mondays and Thursdays

The Clangen

Trashclan is a clangen inspired comic. The story is based loosely on a run of the game, but some events have been shuffled around or ignored as I see fit

It's also about pigeons instead of cats and I've taken major liberties with the Warriors Lore (tm) because. Pigeons are not cats. Basically this is it's own thing, just warriors inspired... At what point is a clangen comic no longer a clangen comic? I dunno but I'm doing my darndest to find out I guess, lmao

There's also some important set changes because I'm a kiwi and I live in Aotearoa New Zealand! That's where this is set! I don't know what Britain looks like and I'm not researching it for this silly story! I've never seen a fox in my life. Snakes are literally illegal here.

This is my "chill out" project! Lower your expectations! Put that bar on the ground! Trashclan is popcorn, not a 5 star restaurant meal

I have a rough plan in my head after playing the game, but I only script a few moons ahead

Artstyle will be fast and simple or just whatever I want it to be, because this project is for funsies!

I'm grappling with the fact that at its core, the story was all RNG. Set-up and pay-off are added after the fact

Upload schedule is "when I want and when I can". I'm busy and have other projects that take priority (Hot tip: Go read DStD, it actually has an upload schedule lol)

Feel free to shoot asks for any of the characters, I'll try to answer with a doodle or two! BUT be aware that I want the story to speak for itself! If an answer is liable to be a spoiler, I'll either leave it till it's no longer a spoiler or not answer at all, sorry c':

This project as a whole was inspired by Moons of Dewclan and encouraged by @pencilpavlova , my trusted brainstorm buddy. Go check out their their comic @mammoth-clangen if u haven't already!

The Content Warnings & Tags

(Below the cut)

Unhealthy / abusive relationships

Swearing

Grief

and then all your standard clangen fare like

Animal death

Up to moderate levels of gore / blood

Character death / major character death

Endangerment and death of young / child characters

Contented will be tagged straight, eg "#gore" "#animal death"

Tags:

UPDATES tagged: #trashmoon collectively and then as individual moons eg #moon 1 CHARACTER ASKS tagged: #trashclan talks CREATOR ASKS tagged: #Anon Answers CHARACTER REFS tagged: #trashclan refs CHARACTERS tagged: as their name eg #Orangesky

40 notes · View notes

ricksdirtyarchive · 2 months ago

Text

Master List

Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

How to navigate: the emoji next to the heading in RED is how to find the category you want to read. Every cat has a different emoji. The post link you click will have a correlating emoji.

Also it’s important to note, you’re a honey bee and genes daughter. It’s explicitly mentioned a few times, but just bear it in mind.

Find your heart

🩷 Smut 💚 Fluff 🎀specified kinks

🩵 smut mentioned, not explicit 💜 trigger warnings

Spotify Play Lists

Rick’s Slutty Music

A RICKdiculous Rescue Mission Broh (Driving)

Workout w Rick Sanchez

One Shot 📸

Good Girl 🩷🎀

Unity 🩷🎀

In Another World 🩷💜🎀

Porn Star 🩷🎀

Blue 🩵

Christmas 🩷

The Vat of Acid Story 🩷

Top Hat Issues 🩵

Angel 🩷🎀

Puppy 🩷🎀

Damn It, Morty 🩷

Fucking Classic 🩷

More 🩷💜

Quietly! 🩷🎀

Bet! 🩷

7 Minutes 🩷

Responsibility 🩷

Fluff 🐶

Sore Muscles 💚

Rick Prime 💚💜

The Wasp 💚

Hearing Aids 💚

An Uncanonical Contained Rick and Morty Adventure 💚

SICK 💚

The Hole 💚

Sanchez! 💚

Natural Prey & Natural Predator 💚💜

Easier 💚

Multipart Stories 📖

Professor Sanchez

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Adventures with Rick and Morty 🪐

Another Citadel Episode

Author Notes/ Works

Illustration Note

#rick sanchez x reader fluff #rick sanchez x reader smut #rick sanchez fluff #rick sanchez x reader #rick c137 #rick sanchez smut #rick and morty imagines #rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty c137 #morty smith #c137

45 notes · View notes

charliedawn · 3 months ago

Text

The Miracle Part 5

Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Link for Part 4: https://www.tumblr.com/charliedawn/779034622391681024/the-miracle-part-4

Tag list: @like-a-clock @decaffeinatedtreewitch @slasherstories123

Monday morning arrived far too quickly.

You took a deep breath, clutching the strap of your bag as you stepped through the towering gates of UA once again. The moment you entered, you were hit with a wave of noise—students laughing, chatting, and hurrying through the halls. The sheer energy in the air was overwhelming and you looked around nervously. You had known UA was a prestigious school, but somehow, the reality of just how many students were here hadn’t fully sunk in until now.

And then it suddenly hit you.

You had no idea where the infirmary was.

Great start.

Taking another deep breath, you scanned the halls, looking for someone who seemed approachable enough to ask. Your eyes landed on three students standing together—one with messy green hair, another with a short bob cut and an energetic expression, and a third with dark blue hair and glasses, who was gesturing dramatically as he spoke.

Deciding they seemed friendly enough, you approached them with a small, polite smile.

"Excuse me," you called out to them. "Sorry to bother you, but…could you point me to the infirmary ? I think I may have gotten a little lost already."

The three students turned to you, blinking in surprise. But one of them smiled at you.

"Oh ! You must be the new nurse !" the green-haired boy said, eyes lighting up. "I’m Midoriya Izuku ! It’s nice to meet you !"

"And I’m Uraraka Ochako !" the girl added cheerfully.

The boy with glasses adjusted them with a sharp nod. "Iida Tenya. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance ! And of course, I would be happy to escort you to the infirmary. It is vital that our staff are able to navigate the school efficiently !"

You chuckled at his enthusiasm. "That would be really helpful, actually. Thank you."

And with that, you followed them through the halls, trying your best to memorize the route. When you finally arrived at the infirmary, you turned to the three students with a grateful smile.

"Thanks for the help, guys. I’d probably still be wandering around if it weren’t for you."

"It’s no problem !" Midoriya assured you.

"If you ever need directions again, feel free to ask !" Uraraka added.

Iida nodded firmly. "Indeed ! Orientation is crucial to efficiency. I am always happy to assist !"

You chuckled before giving a final wave and stepping inside. The infirmary was neat and orderly, the family faint scent of antiseptic in the air. Recovery Girl was already waiting for you, arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face.

"Glad to see you made it in one piece," she told you. "You’ll get used to the school layout soon enough."

You exhaled and set your bag down. "Here’s hoping."

She motioned for you to sit while she continued. "As I mentioned before, Toshinori will be coming by regularly to get his daily donut."

You nodded, already expecting as much.

"In the meantime however," Recovery Girl added, giving you a sharp look, "you’ll have to actually learn how to take care of the students. This isn’t a bakery. You may not have gone to medical school, but I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think you had potential. You’ve got a healing Quirk, and that’s useful—but knowing how to use it properly is just as important as having it in the first place."

You straightened slightly, sensing the seriousness in her tone. "I understand. I’ll do my best."

She hummed, clearly satisfied with that answer. "Good. Then let’s get started."

Recovery Girl wasted no time diving into your training. She started by showing you where everything was stored—the medical supplies, first-aid kits, extra uniforms for students who tore theirs during training, and even the emergency contact information for each student.

"As much as I’d love for you to only make donuts all day, this is a hero school," she reminded you, leading you to a cabinet filled with neatly labeled vials. "Which means students come in injured more often than not. Scrapes, bruises, broken bones, exhaustion—sometimes worse, depending on what kind of mess they got into."

You nodded, absorbing the information as best as you could. "And I just…do what I can to help ?"

"You’ll assist me for now," she clarified. "We’ll see how well you handle it before I can leave you alone in here."

That was fair.

Just as she finished explaining, the door burst open, and a blond-haired boy staggered inside.

"OLD LADY !" Bakugo’s voice practically shook the walls. "One of those damn extras threw a cheap shot—LOOK AT THIS !" He thrust out his arm, revealing a deep bruise already forming along his forearm.

You jumped at the sudden noise, but Recovery Girl remained unfazed. She barely glanced at his arm. "It’s a bruise, young man. You’ll live."

Bakugo scowled. "Tch—"

Before he could argue, Recovery Girl turned to you. "Alright, your first patient. Let’s see what you’ve got."

You blinked in surprise. "Wait, what ?"

She expected you to take care of Mr. Death Stare right now from the get-go ? You looked at the fuming young man before looking back at her in disbelief. The kid was literally a ticking bomb. That had to be against some kind of law…

She gave you a pointed look. "You’re here to learn, aren’t you ? Here’s your chance."

Okay. She officially wanted you dead.

You hesitated, but when Bakugo fixed his glare on you, you knew you had to act.

"Uh…okay." You stepped forward, reaching for his arm. "Let me see…"

Bakugo grumbled but let you examine the bruise. It was nasty, but not severe. You thought for a moment before nodding to yourself. "I can heal it, but it’ll take a second."

His eyes narrowed. "How ?"

You hesitated before deciding to be honest. "My Quirk."

Bakugo stared, then took a step back. "Wait, I know you ! You’re the donut freak !"

You flinched. "Excuse me ?"

"You’re the one who made those weird healing donuts, right ? The ones Yamada-sensei’s been talkin’ about !"

You blinked, surprised. "He…told you about them ?"

"Tch. Of course he did," he scoffed. "Said you made some miracle food or whatever. The guy wouldn’t shut up about it. The whole school knows now…"

You weren’t sure whether to be flattered or concerned by that statement. What was the point of having a secret if everyone ended up finding out ?!

"Whatever," Bakugo huffed. "If you can heal it, just do it already."

You quickly glanced around, knowing that straight-up biting someone’s arm would probably freak them out. Your eyes landed on the small container of lollipops sitting on Recovery Girl’s desk. That could work.

"Hold on a sec," you muttered, stepping away toward the desk. You grabbed one of the lollipops, unwrapped it, and turned your back to them. Discreetly, you bit down on the candy, injecting your healing serum into it. The familiar tingle spread through your fangs as the liquid soaked into the sweet surface.

After a moment, you turned back and held the lollipop out to Bakugo.

"Here. Eat this."

Bakugo stared at you, then at the candy, then back at you.

"…Are you serious ?"

You nodded. "It’ll help. Trust me."

He scowled but snatched it from your hand. "If this is a joke, I’ll blow your damn eyebrows off."

You raised your hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

With an annoyed click of his tongue, Bakugo popped the lollipop into his mouth. For a second, nothing happened. But then his eyes widened slightly as the bruise on his arm rapidly faded, the pain disappearing entirely.

He yanked the candy out of his mouth and stared at his arm in disbelief. "What the hell ? It actually works ?"

You smirked. "Told you."

Bakugo rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers again. "That’s…actually kinda cool," he muttered under his breath. Then, as if realizing he just admitted something positive, he scowled. "Not that I needed it ! I would’ve been fine on my own."

You chuckled. "Sure. Whatever you say."

Recovery Girl watched the exchange with an amused glint in her eyes. "Smart thinking," she murmured to you. "Good job. That one is usually a nightmare to deal with—but you handled it perfectly."

You grinned. "Thanks."

Bakugo huffed and stomped toward the door, still sucking on the lollipop. Right before leaving, he paused and threw a glance over his shoulder.

"…Got any more of these ?"

You blinked before laughing. "Maybe later."

With a grumble, he slammed the door behind him.

Recovery Girl chuckled. "Well, that went well."

You exhaled, finally relaxing. "Yeah…One down, a whole school to go."

You kept working until Recovery Girl said it was time to go home. But you were worried since Toshinori hadn’t come for his donut today and when you stepped out…you found Toshinori sitting outside in the cold. You frowned a little, but decided to silently sit down next to him.

"Why didn’t you come today ?" You asked.

Toshinori glanced at you from the corner of his eye, clearly caught off guard by your presence. He looked…exhausted. His shoulders were slumped, and the cold air did little to hide the slight tremble in his frame.

"I got caught up with some…things," he finally confessed reluctantly, his voice quieter than usual. He seemed genuinely exhausted and you couldn’t help but feel concerned.

You frowned. "You still need to take care of yourself. You promised to take one donut a day, remember ?"

Toshinori sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I know. I apologise."

You studied him for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out a neatly wrapped donut. Without a word, you placed it in his hands.

He blinked at it, then at you.

"I figured you might forget," you replied to his silent question. "So I brought one just in case."

Toshinori stared at you for a long moment before a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "You really are prepared, aren’t you ?"

You shrugged. "It’s my job now, apparently."

Silence settled between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The wind was crisp, but sitting next to him, you didn’t feel cold.

After a moment, Toshinori carefully unwrapped the donut and took a bite. You watched as the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

"…Thank you," he murmured gratefully.

You smiled and nodded. "Anytime."

He smiled back at you and had just taken another slow bite of the donut when a loud, energetic voice shattered the quiet moment.

"There you are !"

You nearly jumped out of your skin, and even Toshinori, who was usually composed despite his exhaustion, visibly flinched.

Hizashi stood before you both, hands on his hips and a wide grin plastered on his face. His sunglasses reflected the dim light of the street lamp nearby, but you could still feel the mischief behind them.

"I’ve been looking everywhere for you two ! C’mon, don’t tell me you forgot ?"

You blinked, glancing at Toshinori in confusion. "Forgot about…what ?"

Yamada gasped dramatically. "Your welcome party, duh ! I promised to give you a proper introduction to the team, and I never go back on my word ! Sooo, I may or may not have gathered some of the staff for a little get-together at a coffee shop." He waggled his eyebrows. "You are coming, right ?"

You hesitated, glancing at Toshinori, who looked just as caught off guard as you felt. His eyes darted to the half-eaten donut in his hands, then back to Yamada.

Yamada huffed, crossing his arms. "Don’t even think about saying no. You need a break, and you,"—he pointed at you—"need to meet everyone properly ! No excuses !"

You sighed, realizing there was no way out of this. Toshinori seemed to come to the same conclusion, his shoulders sagging in reluctant defeat.

"…Alright," he muttered. "I guess…I’ll come if Y/N is coming too."

You nodded as well. "Fine. I’ll go. But you’re paying, Yamada-sensei."

Hizachi gasped again, hand over his heart as if you had mortally wounded him. "Ruthless ! But fair." He grinned. "And you can call me Hizachi. Now let’s go, before Aizawa gets there first and claims the best seat."

You shook your head, standing up alongside Toshinori. The exhaustion in his frame was still evident, but as you walked alongside him toward the impromptu celebration, he didn’t seem quite as weighed down as before.

You smiled at him and looked down expectantly at his half-finished donut. He understood and finished it before giving you a thumbs up.

You chuckled and followed Hizachi.

At the coffee shop:

You glanced around the table, expecting a larger crowd—maybe a few more familiar faces from the staff—but…it was just the four of you. Yamada, completely unbothered, grinned as he dramatically spread his arms. "Surprise ! Your official UA welcome party !"

You blinked. "This is…smaller than I expected."

Aizawa, sitting across from you, deadpanned, "You expected wrong."

You coughed into your hand, glancing at Toshinori, who looked equally surprised but said nothing.

Yamada, still as animated as ever, leaned forward. "Hey, quality over quantity ! We’re the best company you could ask for."

Aizawa huffed. "You just didn’t want to deal with a big group."

Yamada gasped dramatically. "How dare you accuse me of such laziness ? I am a people person ! Unlike you !"

Aizawa didn’t even blink. "Because I know you. And do you know why I know that you only pretend to be a people person ? Because I am your only friend."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. Honestly, this wasn’t so bad. You didn’t want to face a big crowd anyway…You glanced at Toshinori, nudging him lightly. "Well, I guess we’re in for a quiet night, huh ?"

He gave you a tired but warm smile. "Seems that way indeed."

Hizachi clapped his hands together. "Alright ! First order of business—what’s your go-to coffee shop order ? This is essential information."

You sighed, shaking your head fondly. Maybe this wasn’t what you expected, but…you had definitely faced worse. Haru had once dragged you into a concert where you didn’t know the band and were squished by the crowd as they started singing along lyrics you didn’t know to a song you had never listened to. This is a nice change of pace…

You hummed in thought. "I guess…a (drink of choice) ?"

Yamada snapped his fingers. "Excellent choice !" He turned to Toshinori. "And you ?"

Toshinori chuckled softly, setting his cup down. "I usually just go for tea."

Hizachi groaned, throwing his head back. "Tea ? That’s so predictable ! Come on, Toshi, live a little."

Toshinori smiled in that tired, knowing way of his. "I think I’ve lived plenty."

Aizawa snorted. "He’s not wrong."

Yamada waved a dismissive hand. "Fine, fine. What about you, Aizawa ? Let me guess—black coffee, no sugar, no soul ?"

Aizawa gave his friend a nod, meeting Hizachi’s gaze flatly. "Obviously."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "And what about you, Hizachi ? What’s your drink of predilection ?"

Yamada grinned, as if waiting for you to ask. "Caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream and an extra shot of espresso ! Gotta keep the energy up, you know ?"

Aizawa sighed. "That explains a lot."

Yamada only laughed, before going to search for your drinks. The conversation flowed easily after that, filled with light teasing and casual chatter. Despite the small turnout, the atmosphere was…warm. At some point, you felt Toshinori relax beside you, his usual exhaustion still there but tempered by the comfortable company. You caught the slight upward curve of his lips as he listened to Yamada and Aizawa’s usual back-and-forth. Even you had to admit. It was kinda fun.

At the end of the night, Aizawa gave a lazy wave before heading off in his own direction, and Yamada, ever energetic, threw a cheerful "See you tomorrow !" over his shoulder before disappearing down the street. That left just you and Toshinori, standing beneath the glow of the streetlights.

"You take the subway too ?" Toshinori asked, adjusting the collar of his coat.

You nodded. "Yeah, it’s the easiest way home."

He hesitated for a moment, then offered a small smile. "Looks like we’re heading the same way, then."

The walk to the station was quiet but comfortable. The city had begun to wind down, the streets less crowded, the hum of distant traffic a low backdrop to your footsteps. Toshinori, though still visibly tired, seemed more at ease than when you’d first seen him earlier that evening. Once on the platform, you both stood side by side, waiting for the next train. The fluorescent lights above cast a soft glow, making the space feel almost surreal in its stillness.

"…Thank you for tonight," Toshinori said after a moment, his voice quieter than usual.

You glanced at him. "For what ?"

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "For making sure I ate. For hanging out with me and the guys. We usually do not do that kind of thing often. Never—actually." He paused. "For just…being there I guess."

You smiled, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "You don’t have to thank me for that. Besides, someone’s gotta keep an eye on you. And since you’re the reason I got a job now—I should be the one thanking you."

He huffed a soft laugh. "I suppose so."

The train arrived, the doors sliding open with a quiet chime. As you both stepped inside, finding seats next to each other, you saw some of the tension in his shoulders finally ease. Maybe tonight hadn’t been anything extravagant. Maybe it had just been a small gathering, a quiet ride home. But you were glad for it. It had made you feel better somehow. And as the train rumbled forward, carrying you both through the dark tunnels, you found yourself hoping that nights like this would happen again.

Once arrived at your stop, you stretched your arms and let out a small sigh. "Well, I’m heading home now. You should do the same and get some rest."

Toshinori hummed in thought before nodding. "You’re right…It’s just been a long day."

You stood up, dusting off your clothes. "All the more reason to go home and get some sleep. You won’t heal properly if you’re exhausted."

He smiled at your concern but didn’t argue. "Fair enough."

You both went out of the sub.

You gave him a small wave. "See you tomorrow, Yagi-sensei. And don’t forget—one donut a day keeps the nurses away."

He chuckled. "I won’t."

With that, you turned and made your way home. He looked at you leaving and chuckled to himself before walking away too.

As you walked away, the cool night air brushing against your skin, you felt a lingering warmth from the evening’s events. It hadn’t been anything grand—just coffee, conversation, and a quiet ride home—but you held on to that feeling that it had been a good day.

Toshinori stopped and watched you go for a moment, shaking his head with a small smile before turning on his own path.

"One donut a day, huh…" he muttered to himself, amused.

It was such a simple thing, yet the way you had insisted—so casually, so genuinely—made it feel even more important. As he walked, he found himself smiling all the way to his apartment. Maybe, he’d actually remember to eat that donut tomorrow…just for you.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #all might x reader #mha all might #toshinori yagi x you #toshinori yagi x reader #yagi toshinori #mha toshinori #bnha toshinori #mha fanfic idea

24 notes · View notes

fmaoldficarchive · 6 months ago

Text

Welcome Post

Hi! This is the FMA Oldfic Preservation Blog, we're dedicated to digging up the old, beloved fanfics steadily dying to linkrot and lost accounts on places like livejournal, wattpad and quotev, to archive and display them here for the continued enjoyment of the public.

I understand the importence of always backing up these fics directly to the internet archive whenever possible to preserve the original integrity of the work, as well as its associated profiles and links. But due to complications regarding crawling mature content on sites such as livejournal, as well as the risk of certain fics and websites becoming unfindable on the wayback machine in the event the original link becomes lost, I sometimes have to work around this.

This blog exists both to allow the internet archive to crawl at-risk fics effectively, and to bring fics and fansites that have faded into the background, or even gone offline permenantly, back into the spotlight for a new audience to enjoy (or an old audience to rediscover).

All fics are welcome in the name of fandom history, regardless of ship, fic content or any associated fandom dramas therein, but I always try to tag appropriately, please feel free to comment if you feel additional content warnings or tags are necessary.

Requests are always accepted and encouraged!

How It Works (by website)

This blog is an index of archived fics across many old fan websites, with the goal of preventing those sites from being lost to obscurity (I didn't know about half of these when I joined the fandom) along with archiving and indexing oldfics on sites that are still active, like ao3.

The below format allows me to archive and index any fic on the websites listed while skirting tumblr's mature content policy. It also allows me breathing room, the ability to post more fics with less stress, and avoids outright reposting fics whenever possible.

Website's being indexed from, and how each work:

Standard procedure - Fic page(s) are saved to the wayback machine, then the archived link - along with the original, if the site is still up - is posted with the original summary and tags, along with additional tags and content warnings added by myself to aid in navigation. This means you can still read fics on currently active websites even if they shut down, or are currently under maintenence.

Special procedure - For websites the Wayback Machine is unable to crawl, fics will be reposted here in a private post so they can be archived. The private post is deleted and the archived link is used to make a normal post for the fic. This avoids tumblr flagging by keeping as little smut directly on the blog as possible. fanfiction.net - Standard archiveofourown - Standard, also hosts my open oldfic collection, which serves a similar purpose to this blog, collecting external bookmarks as well as fics on ao3. The collection will never be closed and anyone can contribute. deviantart - Standard mediaminer - Standard txq.nu/jumpyboys - website has shut down and archived fics are the only available - Standard yaoi.toukakoukan - website has shut down and archived fics are the only available - Standard archive.skyehawke.com - website has shut down and archived fics are the only available - Standard adultfanfiction.net (2003-2013) - adult-fanfiction.org (2013-) - Standard scimitarsmile - suggested by zetalial - website has shut down and archived fics are the only available - Standard

wattpad - Website has blocked url from wayback machine - Special

quotev - Case by case, Wayback Machine occasionally seems to struggle to archive or load Quotev directly. livejournal - For fics without a mature label, Standard. Fics with a mature label are blocked from the Wayback Machine due to the content notice, Special.

Early posts which do not meet the format listed will retrofitted in the near future, and this notice removed. 12/24/24

#fma #fma 03 #fma 2003 #fma brotherhood #fullmetal alchemist #fma fic #fanfiction archive #oldfic archive #housekeeping

48 notes · View notes

aquamarixx · 6 months ago

Text

shifting stars

Louter doesn’t welcome change with open arms. But with the world changing, he starts to see that some changes aren’t just inevitable; they’re worth embracing.

‎‧₊˚✧ TURNING POINT 2025 ENTRY ✧˚₊‧ pairing louterstella x reader word count 1.6k words tags post under the same sky (fanon episode 2), hurt/comfort, good ending navigation

Louterstella isn’t fond of change—especially the big, sweeping kind.

The stars, his trusted guides, map the future for him with reassuring clarity. He finds comfort in their constant presence, prophecies allowing him to prepare for what’s to come. The world might be unpredictable, but at least he can brace himself for the best or the worst.

But some changes, no matter how much one prepares, still hit like storm.

The recent SEED attack left scars. Not only on the castle grounds but on the hearts of those who call it home. The loss of Klark’s trusted aide weighs heavily on on Klark the most, and the finalization of the Blue Bouquet alliance deepens the sense that nothing will ever be the same.

“Inevitable” is the word that often comes to mind, but for Louter, it feels more like “overwhelming.”

Klark throws himself into his work, distracting himself with diplomatic matters and endless mechanical tinkering. The grief he carries might not be visible to anyone but it is to Louter. So he lets him process things by taking work off of him, leaving Louter with unexpected time to recover from the magical strain of the constant barrier creation. For once, he is free to step away from the responsibilities that tether him to the castle and its tower.

Thus begins his afternoon walks into town. At first, it was curiosity that leads him to venturing outside, wondering how much the town has changed ever since the attack.

The first thing he notices is the sky. How open and boundless it seems without the machinery Klark dispatched cluttering the view. The second is the townsfolk, their faces lit with cautious smiles, relief softening the tension that once haunted their expressions.

And then there is the apothecary. It’s a small shop tucked into a quiet corner, a new addition to the town’s cobblestone streets.

Louter stumbles upon it during an afternoon walk, its bright wooden sign catching his eye. The soft tinkle of a bell greets him as he pushes the door open, and a faint blend of citrus and lavender wafts out to meet him.

From behind the counter, you emerge, smiling warmly as you welcome him. The shop is cozy but surprisingly spacious, with two small round tables accompanied by mismatched chairs for patrons. Shelves line the walls, brimming with bottles of potions and jars of dried herbs. Potted plants dangle from hooks, their vines adding a vibrant touch to the calming atmosphere.

You are attentive and friendly, answering Louter’s questions as he scans the shelves. When you offer him a sample of your medicinal herb tea, he finds himself purchasing two boxes, murmuring something about sharing them with Klark during tea time.

It doesn’t take him long to realize you aren’t from the kingdom. After the borders reopened, you drifted here, drawn by the kingdom’s peace and charm.

Over shared tea and the occasional cakes you insist he try, you speak of the kingdom you’ve left behind and the wonders you’ve seen on your travels across the continent. Your stories are full of quiet longing for peace and appreciation for the simple beauty of your new home.

Louter, in turn, finds himself opening up in ways he doesn’t expect—sharing details about the kingdom’s history, its quirks, and even his fears about the changes brought by the Blue Bouquet alliance.

Your shop becomes a sanctuary for him. A place where he can escape the tower’s weight and the relentless demands of diplomacy. He becomes a regular visitor, stopping by for his medicinal tea (which he tells himself is purely for recovery) and lingering to chat with you about bits and pieces of his life.

That marks the start of your unlikely friendship.

One quiet afternoon, when the weight of everything feels unbearable, Louter’s mask of composure slips. His voice, usually calm and measured, cracks as he confesses, “I feel weak. Like I’m not strong enough to be the knight this kingdom needs.” His words hang heavy in the air.

You meet his vulnerability with an unexpected gentleness, your tone steady but firm. “Strength isn’t a single definition, Louter. It’s like beauty—subjective, personal. Strength looks and feels different depending on who wields it. Yours isn’t in brute force or flashy heroics. It’s in your unwavering dedication, your kindness, and your quiet resolve.”

Something shifts in his expression, a flicker of recognition, though doubt still lingers in his eyes.

“I swear, I’ll do things differently this time,” he says, his voice thick with regret. His gaze is distant, as if replaying memories he wishes he could erase. “I let my fear of change blind me. To the kingdom, to its people. To Klark. I… I cost him someone he cared about. Someone who wasn’t me.”

The admission feels like an open wound, and for a moment, silence envelops the room. But then, as if sensing his need for solace, you speak.

“Change can be terrifying,” you say softly, your eyes searching his. “But it’s also the beginning of something better. Fear of change shackles us, makes us shortsighted. Yet, in the grander scheme, change often leads to growth, to brighter horizons. The choices we make—good or bad—are part of a larger picture. And there’s always hope if you know where to look.”

Your words settle over him, realistic but oddly reassuring. For the first time in a long while, Louter feels the tight grip of despair loosening, even if just a little.

But with that reassurance comes an unwelcome revelation. It sneaks up on him, uninvited and unrelenting. He’s falling for you.

And he doesn’t want to.

The thought terrifies him more than any SEED attack ever could. He doesn’t want your friendship to change, doesn’t want the sanctuary of your apothecary to become complicated with emotions he doesn’t know how to handle. So, he pushes the feelings aside, burying them beneath his duty to Klark, his twin, and his role as the Knight of Lord Lala.

But fate, as always, has other plans.

One afternoon, the apothecary’s familiar calm is disrupted by the arrival of some of Blue Bouquet. Their presence feels like an intrusion, a reminder of the change Louter is still grappling with. And yet, there you are, ever the gracious shopkeeper, welcoming them with the same warmth you’ve shown him.

He hates it.

His sanctuary, his oasis, feels like it’s slipping through his fingers. For a brief, irrational moment, he wants to gatekeep it, to gatekeep you. But the feelings he refuses to name cloud his judgment, and the tension builds until it erupts.

Somehow, he doesn’t enjoy how you pamper Willmesh and Kurode. Especially not how Cielomort makes you laugh. It’s like the “things” you share with him feel invaded.

So, he pushes you away. Pushes his feelings even deeper.

In his desperation to keep things as they were, Louter avoids you—not with malice, but with the fear of losing the one place and person who's given him solace.

"Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want from you," you say to him during his first visit after weeks of avoiding you. The words catch him off guard, piercing through his defenses like an unrelenting arrow.

He’s been miserable. More irritable than Klark could ever be.

He had only meant to catch a glimpse of you through the shop window, but before he knows it, he’s inside, standing before you with a pained expression.

“You’re in my head. You’re everywhere, even when you’re not supposed to be,” Louter confesses, his voice cracking. “It shouldn’t be this hard to let my feelings go. But they’re here. And I’m sorry.”

You take a step closer, your eyes searching his.

“I could never be mad at you, Louterstella,” you say softly, your voice a balm to his frayed nerves. You reach out, tucking a stray strand of hair away from his face, your hand lingering for just a moment against his cheek.

Before your hand falls to your side, he catches it. Gently, he guides your hand back to his face, pressing it against his cheek as he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

For a moment, the world feels still—just the two of you in the quiet of the apothecary. He opens his eyes, gazing at you with a vulnerability he’s never shown before. Then, without breaking eye contact, he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“I think I might just like you… too much,” Louter whispers, his voice barely audible but heavy with meaning.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, and your smile, warm and tender, feels like the dawn breaking after a long, cold night.

Louter thinks of change—how terrifying it’s always been for him. But as he looks at you, he realizes not all change is to be feared. Some change, like the feelings blooming in his chest, is worth embracing.

And in this quiet moment, he makes a silent vow: to treasure your smile, your laughter, your presence in his life.

No matter what the stars might say, this is one change he’s ready to accept and willing to fight for.

amari's notes: in my head, this fic happens after the "under the same sky" fic i wrote for klarkstella. the contrast between the two fics in terms of vibe is really evident but i kinda thought that it just fits the twins. there's this chaos that klark carries and there's this serenity to louter, both i tried to highlight. in short, i love them both! anyway, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask or even a request! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

#fragaria memories x reader #fragaria memories #fragaria sanrio #louterstella #louterstella x reader

33 notes · View notes

ink-casket · 11 days ago

Note

level 2 + hex code and kin types for a random headmate from a mlm book? if you don't mind. ty 💕

We've got a fantastic show lined up for you tonight!

Pack #012 Level 2 (+Hex and Kin types) random MLM novel character ! (I picked Kong Hongjun from Legends of exorcise)

// keep in mind headmates may not form exactly like the pack! //

🎙️. . NAME ! ;;; kong hongjun , Kong , Hongjun , Jun , Hong , 孔鸿俊 , Kǒng Hóngjùn , 孔绸星 , Kǒng Chóuxīng , Xing'er ,

🎙️. . PRONOUNS ! ;;; He/Him , Hx/Hxm , Hy/Hym , Hi/Hie , Hi/Him , He/Hem , Nix/Nix , Ny/nym , Nin/Nim , Thy/Thym , Tey/Tem , Thi/Thim , Hie/Hie , Hi/his , Hin/Hin , Hie/Hym , Hi/Hem , Hyt/yim

🎙️. . AGE ! ;;; (depending what you pick) 16-19

🎙️. . GENDER ! ;;; Male , Non-Binary , Agender , BLboy , Yaoiguy

🎙️. . ORIENTATION ! ;;; achillean , MLM , inderitian (he is married to Li Jinglong)

🎙️. . SPECIES ! ;;; Alive , Half Peacock Yao

🎙️. . APPEARANCE ! ;;; Kong Hongjun is described as being handsome and well formed. He has soft red lips, straight white teeth, fair white skin with a nose bridge high and straight along with dark arched brows. It's been remarked that inherited most of his father's looks.

His body is long and lithe with some indistinct outlines of chest and abdominal muscles he gained with his throwing knives and penta-color sacred light.

For clothes, he wore a short and sleeveless gown in dark red and a robe embroidered with green patterns was tied at his waist that resembles a piece of beautiful jade.

🎙️. . SOURCE ! ;;; Legend of exorcism

🎙️. . LIKES ! ;;; Food , Knives , Li Jinglong , Medicine , Humans, animals, and other demons , being able to aid others , sweets ,

🎙️. . DISLIKES ! ;;; Injustice , lies , his hight and his muscles

🎙️. . ROLES ! ;;; Internal self helper , care taker , Auxiliary , Medicine taker , encourager , SelfHarm Reducer , Internal Host

🎙️. . BEHAVIOR ! ;;; He's kind , Gentle , caring. Very hard working and isn't the type to give up easily. Helpful and always protects friends/loved ones.

🎙️. . PERSONALITY ! ;;; Kong Hongjun is a very kind and gentle person, however given his sheltered upbringing, this also leaves him a bit naïve to the world around him. However when his friends are in trouble he doesn't hesitate to help them. (From wiki)

Kong Hongjun is most commonly typed as 2w3 (The Helper, or The Giver) in the Enneagram system. This suggests Kong Hongjun is empathetic, sincere, warm-hearted, and generous, and is caring and self-sacrificing, often putting others' needs before their own. These traits shape Kong Hongjun's worldview and behavioral patterns, influencing how they navigate challenges, connect with others, and pursue their goals. Understanding these traits provides insight into Kong Hongjun's motivations, strengths, and potential growth areas.

The Basic Fear of Kong Hongjun is being unwanted or unloved, which drives them to avoid certain situations or behaviors that trigger this fear. Conversely, their Core Desire is to feel loved and appreciated, guiding their aspirations and actions in pursuit of fulfillment. This dynamic between fear and desire often shapes Kong Hongjun's life choices and personal development journey. (From PDB)

🎙️. . TITLES ! ;;; Prince of Yaojin Palace , The Exorcist , Kong Hongjun the Exorcist , [Prn] who is an Exorcist , Exorcist Prince , [Prn] Of Yaojin

🎙️. . MOOD BOARD ! ;;;

🎙️. . HEX CODE ! ;;; #64743F or #4B3627

🎙️. . KIN TYPES ! ;;; Fiction Kin , Elemental Kin , MythKin , FoxKin

🎙️. . FACE CLAIMS ! ;;;

[ 1 . 2 . 3 ]

Tags : @cherishedverses , @thebaharchivist (if you want to be added or removed dm us !)

Hey there :D ! I will give a MASSIVE heads up I am a wiki user ! It's legit the wiki on the charater so if I get hate I will be very confused, it's not ai, it's the wiki :,3. (I used the wiki for basic stuff and appearance, and personality) ! Everything else I did ! (It's also 5am for us when we published this I need sleep 💔)

5 notes · View notes

ratcatcher0325 · 2 years ago

Text

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #31)

Chapter #31. ... Something Wicked this way comes... Or so Alexander thinks. Who is at Nat's door?

So this is by far my longest chapter yet! I guess that makes up for how long it took me to write and edit it? Maybe? Anyway thanks for continuing to read!! I love and appreciate you all!

Previous: Chapter #30

Next: Chapter #32

Word Count: 10,045 Read Time: Approx. 60+ mins

CW: adult language

Tag list: @gatlily @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien @thegodmother007 @honey-olive @bittykimmy13 @aceouttatime @imvenusasaboy @liminaldaze @windshield-patent @joxter-coded @rosella35 @narrans @rubeau-art @littlescaryinternetguy @jae-from-discord @kitn-underfoot @secretly-small @writing-forever @iinogongju @itsgothgirlthyme @make-me-giant @reborrowing @whatthisfemsheplikes @soapysoap69 @tinystrawberryshifter @thetinylittlespider @bigboicol-theflamingcol @certainwizardlady

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #31: The Pricking of Thumbs... and Eyes

[Alexander’s POV]

I strained to listen through the bedroom door, thicker than I measured shoulder to shoulder, through walls of drywall and insulation, through distance. While it was only a few dozen steps for the human who’d just told me to hide, it may as well have been the better part of a mile for me.

Damn my little frame!

My throat tightened as my spinal column was washed with adrenaline. What was happening out there? Was she okay? What was my best course of action? On the desktop I had the advantage of some height, sure, but I was also a sitting duck, with no chance to outrun a pair of malicious human hands if it were to come down to that. Did I risk clamoring to the floor? Or did that just guarantee my doom, underfoot? Down there, I’d have more places to hide out of sight before springing into action with this makeshift weapon I currently hefted under my arm. If push came to shove, would I be able to get to her in time to make any difference at all? Even if I crashed my way into the room with two absolutely massive beings before me, was there anything I could do to help?

My few milliseconds for strategizing were abruptly cut short as the creak of the door opening far off in the distance hit my ears. My blood froze in my veins and I admit, I held my breath as I ground my heels into the wood of the desk, waiting to discover what was taking place far beyond where I stood.

The door opened. I strained, wincing and wishing I wasn’t banished to this far off room, like some weak little coveted prize to be stashed away when danger called. I couldn’t be certain, but I swore I heard a gasp.

Her gasp.

My heart thundered ever more feverishly. That was it. I had to do something. Anything. Even if it got me killed. I would not lie down and cower in fear like some weak little waste of oxygen. If she needed my help, I’d try my damndest to give it.

Without a second thought, I hobbled over to the edge of her desk, contemplating the cables I’d shimmied down once before. I now had the much more logistically challenging job of navigating this vertical drop with a letter opener towering a whole 3 inches above my head and mobility aid tucked under my arm. I heard a shuffling of feet as I swung my own over the cliff’s edge that was the desk’s ledge. I tried not to think about how a drop from this height could kill me as I heard her exclaim, “What the fuck? What’re you doing here?” Was this someone she knew? To my ears, it didn’t sound good.

I needed to move, and quickly. I heard a male voice, deep and wholly unfamiliar ring in response, but I hardly had the bandwidth to pick up on his exact words. I managed to hear “Worried… Own good… Don’t freak out…” I launched myself over the edge, both hands gripping the cord as I swung precariously, trying not to drop the two objects carefully hooked under my right shoulder joint and pressed to my side with the crook of my elbow. I had to make sure to apply adequate pressure to keep them from slipping.

Hand under fist, I began to slowly lower myself down the length of the cord. The progress was abysmally slow. I bared my teeth, sweat forming on my brow, as a muscular burning began to blossom in my shoulders and arms. No! Not now, I’ve only just begun my descent.

I pictured Natalie’s face in my mind. I’d no doubt she could hold her own quite well. The incident with the driver in her alley and her unapologetic shouting match with the impatient man came immediately to the forefront of my thoughts. She did not hesitate to come to her own defense, and I knew that. What she’d failed to remember when she’d commanded me to hide myself away, is that I would not hesitate to do the same.

I was ripped back to reality by two concurrent events that occupied my full attention. First, I could feel my crutch slipping dangerously from my hold on it, threatening to fall out of my grip entirely, as my arms shook with the effort to hold myself aloft. I could hardly afford to risk letting go with one arm to catch it, let alone be able to twist around in time to stop its fall. I doubted I’d be able to support my full weight with just one fist gripping tightly to the slippery rubber casing of a wire. Yet, if it tumbled to the ground, and out of reach, I’d be royally screwed in trying to hobble even a few paces.

As I hung in place, tightening the pressure between my elbow and ribs to try to keep the objects from falling, the second event tore me away from my current disaster unto another. There were footsteps, loud and unmistakable, thundering toward the door. This human, whoever he was, would be bursting through the threshold in only a few seconds’ time, judging by the cacophony of shoes on wood flooring.

I was much too high off the ground to risk jumping, but too far down to have enough time to clamor back up again. This was a huge mistake. I was stuck, midair, probably about level with the average human’s thigh, swinging uselessly, and utterly exposed. Like ripe fruit ready to be plucked from its vine, I was at high risk of being snatched up.

Steel yourself, Alexander, now’s not the time for succumbing to fear. I had a weapon after all, and a sharp one at that.

The gigantic footfalls continued with ever growing intensity in my direction. The stranger’s voice seemed far too casual and familiar for my liking, “Aww, come on, I gotta see what’s been goin’ on… what’re you trying to hide?” Who was this man? Why was she not stopping him and what gave him any right to invade her home on such unexpected notice, no less?

What was she trying to hide? Me. You unwelcome invader of privacy. She’s trying to hide me. So much for keeping out of plain sight and giving her peace of mind.

“No, you really don’t! N-no I’m not hiding– I just… now’s not a good time and–” Her voice was softer than his, quieter and more distant. He was charging ahead and she was scrambling after him. What was wrong with this human? Did he not know how to listen?

The footfalls were so close now, I could feel them as they ricocheted through the hardwood floor of the hall, and shook my makeshift climbing rope ever so slightly.

How embarrassing. Just their steps were enough to rock me to and fro like a fragile leaf on the breeze. I swallowed hard. This was it. In the next millisecond I’d be face to face… well… make that face to body with an unknown enemy.

I gripped tighter, tucking the cable between the sole of one shoe and the toe of the other, so that I didn’t have to bear all my weight with just my arms. This muscular effort tweaked my injured leg, as my trembling hands gained some small relief. With my crutch still barely able to balance, I readied myself to use my weapon if needed. I was almost certain it would be needed.

That’s when he crashed through the door.

He towered over me, of course. The gusts of wind generated from his massive form erupting into the room threw my hair about my face and made me grit my teeth. Why did humans have to be so big?!

He stopped just inside the doorway, his left thigh upsettingly close, yet maybe just an inch or so shy of being within stabbing range. Damn. Still, he was much too near for my liking. I could practically smell him. Was that fresh soap and a hint of cinnamon? I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

He hadn’t noticed me yet: of course not, I was far below his eye line, why would he? He stood comfortably, as if he owned the place. He looked a few years older than Natalie, perhaps about my age, though it was impossible to know for sure. His bespectacled visage was bright, excitable. He seemed amused, as he cast his gaze around. His beard, dark in color, just like his neat, tightly curled hair, was cut close to his jawline. The wide-necked cable-knit sweater he wore sported a geometric pattern in black, royal blue and crisp white. His left hand relaxed inside the pocket of his corduroy slacks, as he took in the room before him.

I hated him at first glance.

He played the part of a perfect Nantucket dandy, clearly hailing from wealth, and with the added benefit of an Ivy League university education, he seemed out of place in Natalie’s humble living conditions. Everything about him oozed with pretension and privilege. And yet, the two of them seemed well acquainted, so there must’ve been some common ground.

While this strange and wholly unwelcome intruder delighted in the view, my muscles were screaming for relief. Sweat poured from my brow and down the back of my neck. My arms, in spite of my best efforts, were starting to tremble and that damned cane was ever closer to tipping out of my grasp and down to the floor, a deadly distance away. I couldn’t hold on for much longer, but I’d be damned if I’d let this supercilious interloper’s first encounter with me be one of pitying condescension because I required any form of assistance.

A moment after he’d paused in the doorway, the third party in this equation, and second human, my human, practically crashed into him in her hurried attempt to stop him in his tracks. Great job, on that front, Natalie. She managed to stop just short of colliding directly into his back by gripping to the threshold of the door and halting her momentum. Much to my surprise, I noticed she was significantly shorter than him. Was Natalie short? That seemed impossible, given just how towering she was to me. Or was this unannounced visitor just abnormally tall? From my vantage point they both may as well have been city buildings, so the difference hardly mattered.

I watched as her eyes flitted feverishly over the desk’s surface, no doubt searching for me. She was red faced and breathless. I couldn’t tell if she was more relieved or panicked by not knowing where I was. Maybe luck was on my side and I’d go unnoticed by them both, left to gasp and tend to my sore muscles in the sanctity and peace of a humanless space. She sucked in air as if about to speak, no doubt to usher him out of the room, when he, oblivious, his back to both of us, cut her off.

“Damn Nat, since when did you start picking up? This place always looked like a tornado blew through here but now it should be on the cover of a home decor magazine or something… What’s changed?” Me. I’m the change that made her clean up her pigsty of a home. You’re welcome. If I hadn’t been convinced already, it was painfully clear now that these two knew each other. He had this smug, easy going familiarity about him that made the bile rise in my throat. Who did this man think he was, waltzing into Natalie’s home uninvited and entirely unexpected and then parading around as if he owned the place? Was he expecting to stay for dinner? Spend the weekend on her couch? How dare he interrupt her work, our work, as if we had nothing better to do with our day than entertain him!

I glanced over at Natalie, she didn’t seem the least bit offended or wary of his presence. So he’d been an unplanned but not altogether shocking visitor? How often did this stranger make himself comfortable in her home? They must’ve been quite close if he had unfettered access to her space and had been here frequently enough to note her change in personal organization. Why hadn't she mentioned him before?

As he spoke, he took another step into the space and went so far as to sweep a finger tip across the surface of her dresser to check for dust, his expression one of impressed intrigue (as he should be, that was my meticulous and thorough dusting he was observing).

While he remained occupied, I suddenly felt the invasion of her gaze alighting on me. She finally spotted me, dangling there like some marionette in the world’s most boring puppet show.

Her eyes bulged from her skull, as she set her jaw and her nostrils flared in that capricious way she always did when she was upset with me, which was infuriatingly often.

Her gaze flitted with anxious intensity from my dangling form to the back of this other human, and then returned to me. With a frantic, utterly confounded gesture she mouthed at me with a serpent’s intensity “What the fuck are you doing?!”

I hissed back, the heat in my face beginning to rise, “What am I doing? Why is he–” I jutted my chin in the stanger’s direction, which I immediately regretted as the force of my gesture forced me to swing in counterbalance, making the challenge of keeping my grip steady and the objects in my arms from falling all the more difficult, “--even here?” I cast my eyes down to the letter opener, and then back to her, “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m protecting you!”

Somehow, her eyes managed to widen even farther as her gaze followed mine toward the letter opener in my grip, its blade as long as I was tall, sharp and menacing, “Don’t you dare! Alexander! No! Do NOT.”

While she spat through gritted teeth, she made all kinds of emphatic gestures: shaking her head, swiping her hand in one fell motion across her throat, and staring daggers at me. If she hadn’t learned by now that telling me what to do would get her absolutely nowhere, then there really was no hope for her. If the man deserved to be stabbed, a stabbing he would get. Simple as that.

She seemed to read my mind, “Alexander–” She was about to continue, her eyes narrowed to slits, even taking half a step in my direction, no doubt on the verge of expressing more disapproval for my very reasonable reaction to an invader in her home, or perhaps to simply snatch me up and disarm me, which I was prepared to fight tooth and nail over. Just as she drew another breath, however, the seemingly spatially unaware invader himself, clearly having no idea of this fiercely whispered conversation behind his back, uttered a noise of delight and intrigue which made both our heads whip in his direction.

“Oh! This is adorable!” During the length of our heated exchange, our interloper had graduated from the dresser to the bedside table, where he was now leaning, hands on knees, marveling at the miniature wonder that was my neatly made bed, my dresser, and a few other furniture items, all to my scale: my open air bedroom of sorts. Oh give me a break! Have you never seen a bed before? What’s wrong with you?

Defensively, Natalie stepped in his direction, still trying to keep my presence a secret; a smart move if his fascination with just my furniture was any indication of how he’d react to seeing me. A few beads of sweat traced down my spine as I grit my teeth, struggling to hold on. He continued to stare, adjusting his glasses for a better look, “What’s all this for? It’s so cute!” Come back over here and I’ll show you cute.

Realizing with simultaneous intuition that we had about half a second before he’d turn over his shoulder to look back in her direction, we exchanged a swift, knowing glance before she turned on her heel, and planted herself firmly between him and my hiding spot, obscuring me from view.

“Oh! All that? It’s… nothing… I thought my niece might like them, I just haven’t wrapped them up for her yet…” Ah yes, thank you Natalie, for reminding me that I and your niece’s playthings could do a furniture swap if we wanted. Excellent. At least she was giving me a chance to escape my predicament. She got points for that.

I wasted no time in re-engaging my muscles for the upward climb. As my shoulder joints buckled, I felt my stomach drop. Did I have the strength to pull myself up?

Now was not the time for doubt. I had to try.

She continued to cover for me, speaking louder than was normal, as I made laughably little progress towards the lip of the desk, “Anyway, look, I really appreciate you coming to check on me. You have literally been saving my ass with the lectures and stuff, I owe you, big time…” My whole body was trembling, my breath escaping my lungs in ragged gasps, my hands, now slick with sweat, were struggling to maintain traction, as my hurt leg burned from the far too great strain I was putting on it just to keep from slipping. As I struggled against gravity, Natalie crossed the room to the other human, trying her damndest to usher him toward the door.

I was only a bit too preoccupied at the moment to clock whether her encouragement was proving successful. Hand over fist, feet wrapped tightly around the thick, rubber casing, I was getting ever closer to sweet relief. Only about two inches of distance left. I could do this.

No sooner had I encouraged myself, than my next handhold gave way and I was left to cling fast by one arm, as I instinctively hugged the letter opener and cane to my chest with my now free hand, both objects swaying wildly along the same pendulum trajectory of my own form. My heart rate spiked and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to make a sound as I happened to peer down at the floor, seemingly a million miles below me. That was close. Taking advantage of the gravitational force that bandied me about, I managed to grab back on with my right hand.

Okay, crisis averted, I could do this.

“...But, you did your check-up on me and as you can see I’m totally fine, so…”

Nevermind. I could not do this.

No sooner had I steeled myself for the homestretch, my grip gave way again and this time I had much less luck in righting myself. My favored hand, my left, failed me, as did my foothold. I was now dangling, precariously, by one arm, legs flailing, as I swung with a violent rhythm. But that wasn’t the end of my troubles. In my scramble to right myself, my movement was enough to finally knock the crutch from my grasp.. and down, down, down it fell.

"...Thanks for stopping by. Like I said I do have a bunch of shit to do today–” CLANG!!!

The aluminum cane collided with the metal rim of the trash can below. My shoulders flew up to my ears as I cringed and grit my teeth.

So much for keeping a low profile.

The gasp of pure delight that came from the man across the room made my stomach churn, as I hung, wrapped tightly around the cable, my one line of defense still pressed between my chest and arm. The speed with which he turned on his heel, alerted by the sound I’d accidentally made, only to almost instantaneously break into a, frankly, disturbingly joyful smile made my countenance twist into a snarl. He practically bounded over to me, with so much enthusiasm that his footfalls shook me from head to toe.

Why, oh why, did I ever delude myself into thinking the company of humans was ever worthwhile?

Much to my utter frustration and embarrassment, all my swinging and thrashing about for a steady hold left the wire above me twisted, and, therefore, I found myself being turned so that his rapidly approaching gigantic face was greeted with only my back.

This was all much too humiliating. I kicked and writhed in a minimally successful attempt to right myself. What I was greeted with made me regret the effort.

His bespectacled gaze was a mere few inches from my body, his dark eyes, widened and glowed with patronizing fascination.

“Awwwww…” His voice was booming, the intensity of his stare far too all-encompassing, he was close enough that I could smell him, that hint of soap and cinnamon striking my nostrils like a biochemical warning signal. He smiled, his massive eyes staring directly down into mine, “You need help, there, little buddy?” I could practically feel the steam erupting from my ears. Before I even had a chance to snap back, the pad of a finger, huge, rough and jarring, pressed into my ribs to turn me fully about.

I writhed away from his touch, swinging to and fro and snarling, “DO NOT TOUCH ME.” Even a rattlesnake gives one fair warning before he strikes, this is mine and you’d do well to adhere to its call.

Simultaneously with my outburst Natalie stepped forward, clearly forecasting what was to come. She knew me well enough by now to know just how I would take such condescension. As she came forward, I felt myself tensing, Don’t you dare swoop in and rob me of my moment. I don’t need your help here, I’m well armed and perfectly capable. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, hungering for the now inevitable moment of confrontation with a being twelve times larger than myself.

She continued to close the distance between us, and I couldn’t help noticing how her hand rested on his trapezius muscle with easy familiarity. She glared at him, an eyebrow raised “Yeah. Don’t, dude. Don’t do that…” Her eyes darted from him to me, her right hand poised to reach forward and tear me away. As much as I relished the idea of not having to hang here any longer, I craved the opportunity to give this dimwit a piece of my mind with far greater fervor.

But it seemed unnecessary for me to advocate on my own behalf, because he immediately laid the groundwork of his own demise, “Aw, come on, Nat. Don’t stress. I’ve got this. Just watch, we’re gonna be the best of friends after today, aren’t we? Aren’t we little fella?” How perfect. Keeping digging your own grave, you cable-knit clown.

He stared expectantly, awaiting a response. His brows furrowed when he received nothing but an unrelenting glare from me, “He’s not much of a talker, huh?” His eyes darted uncomfortably away from my stone cold stare, as he looked to Natalie for an explanation.

“Quite the opposite, actually. That’s why I’m worried…”

“Aww, don’t be! I’m not gonna hurt him!”

“… for you, jackass. You’ve pissed him off into silent rage, that’s a level farther than even I’ve gotten.”

The bespectacled man burst into laughter. Not only did the volume at this distance threaten to blow out my eardrums, but the boiling of my blood quickened my heart rate and I couldn’t help but snarl. The ignoramus wiped a tear from his eye and managed to speak between bouts of belly laughter, “You’re joking, right? That’s adorable! Uh oh, somebody’s grumpy! We all better be very afraid!” He threw his hands up in mock terror. His voice cascaded and echoed in a sing-songy voice reserved for the condescension of human babies or cute animals. Come just a little closer, you ignorant bastard, I dare you.

“I’m gonna say this one more time, you’re gonna regret saying shit like that, I promise. So either move and let me disarm him, or you’ll see what happens when you piss him off!”

Another round of incredulous laughter. Could he manage to be any louder and more obnoxious? I highly doubted it. He continued, unphased by Natalie’s apt warning, “Look at him! He’s harmless! What’s he gonna do? That letter opener is bigger than he is. I’m actually surprised he’s even able to hold it!” You’ll be even more surprised how much force I can put behind it when its razor edge sinks into your flesh, “Yeah, you’re not gonna hurt me, are ya? I bet you’re just a sweet little guy, deep down. I just frightened you, is all. Don’t be scared…” Scared?! Who did he think he was dealing with? “Did you drop something? Here lemme help you….”

He sank all the way to his knees now, searching the carpet fibers for my long lost cane. I waited, practically salivating in anticipation. He rose back to a neutral spine, his knees still planted in the carpet, as he held the walking aide triumphantly between finger and thumb, it looking no more durable than a twig in his massive grip. He grinned brightly, clearly pleased with himself. Alright, just a little closer…

He waved it wildly in front of my face, like teasing a dog with a stick before playing fetch. Needless to say I was less than amused. He leaned forward, to place it on the surface of the desk behind me. Yes, you’re doing great, A+ for hitting your mark. You’re almost exactly where I want you to be. Just a tiny bit closer… His massive face was mere inches from mine, I could see every pore, every eyelash, every detail I’m sure most humans would prefer to be left to the imagination. He was so near I could feel the cascading tide of his breath stirring tendrils of my hair. He looked down at me, his dark brown eyes bright with bubbly self satisfaction, “There ya go. See? We can be friends. I’m not out to getcha…” As soon as the object clattered to the wooden surface, his hand descended from over my head, careening down, closer and closer until his fingers were right on top of me, aiming for my hair. Was this man about to try and pet me?!

Without a second’s hesitation, I wrapped my right arm firmly around the chord, hefted the letter opener over my head, tucked it securely on my left side, and then shoved it forward with all my might.

The trajectory of the weapon was suddenly halted when its point hit home, jarring my shoulder as it absorbed the ricochet of force.

This four-eyed Polyphemus roared in shock and surprise, his hand flying up to the origin of sudden pain. The letter opener had glanced off the rim of his glasses, and the blade hit its mark just an inch or so shy of his right ocular organ. He whipped away, batting the letter opener as he went with such force that he very nearly pulled the weapon and me right along with him, but, somehow, in spite of our significant disparity in strength, I managed to hold fast.

His initial exclamation, loud enough to deafen me, was not one of articulate words, but rather garbled shouting. He’d flung himself backwards, crumpled in a heap on the floor.

And thus, Saint George slayed the dragon.

Did I feel a swell of pride enlarge my chest? You bet I did.

Raising my voice over the din, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ME, YOU INSUFFERABLE WRETCH!” I couldn’t help but laugh as I swung on the wire, all muscular exhaustion temporarily forgotten in the wake of this newfound excitement.

“ALEXANDER!!!” Uh oh.

Here came Natalie, her shadow casting a pall, literally and figuratively, over my gleeful celebration. She was pissed. I didn’t care.

Meanwhile, her friend had scrambled across the carpet until his head crashed into the dresser behind him, “WHAT THE FUCK?!?! HE ALMOST STABBED ME IN THE EYE!” The timbre of his voice had gone from saccharinely sweet baby talk to one of whiny disdain and flustered disbelief. He pointed at me emphatically with his free hand, looking to Natalie for some sort of recompense.

I beat her to the punch.

“WHAT DID I SAY? HM? WHAT DID I TELL YOU? I WARNED YOU!!!” I shouted across the cavern between myself and him, until my throat was raw. By this time, Natalie had fully crossed the few feet between her dresser and desk, settling before me on her knees, her brow furrowed and her jaw clenched.

“Alexander! Hush! You’ve done enough damage already…” Her fingers descended around me, her thumbs pressing into my sternum and across my abdomen, her coinciding index fingers reaching under my arms and just above my hips to support my weight. Her grip was a bit harder and swifter than I’d become used to. She was trying to pluck me up quickly, and I sensed it wasn’t simply due to a desire to relieve me of holding myself up.

Nevertheless, I was grateful for the relief, letting out a breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding. Carefully, she untangled me from the wire and shifted me to a seated position in her right palm. As she gathered me in her hand, she paused just long enough to cast a glance over her shoulder, “He did warn you though, like, in a multitude of ways…”

“Ha! See??” I burst with pride, unable to keep a wide grin from painting my features.

She whipped around immediately, “Oh shut up, Alexander,” She pointed her index finger at my chest, “You’re in as much trouble as he is! He was being a fucking ass, yes, but you didn’t have to shank him! Give me that!!” Her finger and thumb dove for the plastic handle of my weapon, still dutifully tucked under my arm.

I resisted, jerking my shoulder in the opposite direction, “Me? What did I do except protect myself… and you?”

She looked utterly incredulous, motioning with a sweeping, exaggerated gesture at the injured party, who had now managed to scramble to his feet, examining his battle wound in the vanity mirror, “You STABBED my fucking friend! That’s the TA!”

I was baffled by this newfound information.

“THAT’S the TA? Who’s been sending the taped lectures and keeping your attendance afloat? That pretentious imbecile? Well, he shouldn’t have been so condescending to me! And… besides, you could’ve led with that, you know! Maybe then I’d have gone for his hands instead!” I found myself escalating in volume as I spoke, getting increasingly more emphatic, until I was practically shouting.

“You didn’t give me a chance before you went all Zorro on his ass!!!!!”

“What’s Zorro?!?!?”

“Oh my god! Give me the sharp object Alexander, do not make me pry it out of your tiny little hands!” My face flushed hot. I knew she was keenly aware I resented that completely unnecessary addition of ‘tiny’ and ‘little’ into her request. Nothing about me was little, everything and everyone else was just huge. End of story.

She held out her free hand, flat, just below my chest, raising one eyebrow expectantly. I held off for a second, then another, “ALEXANDER!” Fine!

I trusted our intruder understood his limits now and would not be making the same mistake twice. I relented, laying the slightly bloodied object across her fingers. She pursed her lips as if to say “That’s what I thought.” I had a feeling she had a few choice words for me after this unexpected visit. No matter. I regretted nothing.

“Uh, Nat?” It’s bleeding… like a lot…” His voice from across the room drew our attention once more. He turned over his shoulder as he spoke, revealing a rivulet of blood springing from his cheek, down the fingers he’d pressed against it to staunch the flow, and down farther still, staining his pristine, white, woolen collar.

“Fuck!” Natalie practically groaned, before flashing me an extremely dirty look, “Here, lemme… uh, here…” she half rose, seeming to suddenly remember she was holding me. With a grimace, she set me down somewhat roughly on the desktop. She wasted no time in quickly swiping the letter opener up and away from my grasp, before securing it in the back pocket of her jeans. Taking a quick glance around, she decided to pluck up the entire metal cup of pens and other writing utensils, “Please, just stay right here.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared. When she realized that was all she was going to get from me, she rolled her eyes and sighed.

With that she rushed over to her friend who was cupping his other hand beneath the first to catch drops of crimson as they fell. She threw the pencil holder down on the vanity and ushered him hurriedly to the bathroom, turning over her shoulder and pointing both fingers at her eyes, before reversing the gesture to be aimed at me. I held my hands up, what could I possibly do now? I was unarmed, and stranded. The object of my disdain far away from my radius for harm.

As they retreated, I heard the wounded man grumble, “Fuck! He’s a little… demon!!” I had the sense that a different word had come to mind first, but he’d chosen the latter.

“… Yeah, believe me, I know…” Hey! Natalie, you’re supposed to be on my side!

“Why in the hell do you keep him around, then?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but, believe it or not, he actually kinda grows on you after a while.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Should I be offended or flattered?

“I can’t believe he actually stabbed me…” And I’d do it again without hesitation.

After that, their voices became so muffled beyond the partially closed bathroom door that it was hardly worth straining to listen.

I sat alone, isolated and small, feeling a burning sensation in all my exhausted muscle groups, as my heart and lungs worked to steady themselves to a more even tempo. The gift of solitude meant that I no longer had to maintain my composure. I collapsed back onto an elbow, breath coming in ragged fits and starts, no longer having to maintain a defensive stance. Air couldn’t come fast enough as I choked and sweat dripped in my eyes and down my back and neck. My arms and legs were spasming as I tried my best to come down from the excitement of all that had just transpired. Damn, my leg hurt. Everything hurt. I focused on my breathing for a few moments, eyes craned to the ceiling so far above where I lay. I was utterly exhausted. A long rest in my bed which had been the object of such condescension and ridicule just a while ago sounded utterly delightful. But what could I do? I had no means of crossing the vast room in any practical way. I was much too pathetically little for such luxuries of inhabiting two different corners of a room with ease. As if I needed any more reminders today of how small I was. What was a man in my situation to do but sit and ponder? I had no other recourse, after all.

So, this was her friend who’d helped make all this time working from home possible? I was beginning to think Natalie had very poor taste in friends. I wrinkled my nose in disgust remembering how his eyes had lit up in fascination like I was some shiny, new, coveted object. What was wrong with humans? What was so delightfully fascinating about me anyway? In any case, he got exactly what was coming to him.

The muffled sound of voices honed into sharp focus as, suddenly, a voice with a male timbre could be heard whining, “Fuck! OWWW!!!”

A female voice followed with zero hesitation, “Oh don’t be such a fucking baby!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. You got what you deserved, you overly enthused idiot. Of course, in fairness to him, I knew firsthand how dangerous Natalie could be when armed with a cotton swab soaked in hydrogen peroxide.

*********

If I was in the mood to be generous, which I wasn’t, all I could say is that the tension in the air between myself, leaning over the kitchen counter prepping two whiskey cokes, my friend, nursing his wounds at my kitchen table, and the positively tiny man, petulantly sulking on the opposite side of the table and somehow, even from this distance, palpably radiating with vitriol, was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. The only sound was the groan of the living room heater, as ice clattered in the glass while I poured.

We’d shuffled from bedroom to kitchen without so much as a word between us. And now here we were, all avoiding eye contact like put out children. This was fucking stupid. They were both being wildly immature about this. Build a bridge guys. Don’t condscend and don’t be a fucking dick, it’s not that complicated. Did this whole crazy day say something about me? Was I like a drama magnet or something?

Tired of the exhaustive pity party, I swept my hair from my eyes, and swirling them for a final time, I set the drinks down by a wool sweater covered elbow. Neither of them bothered to respond.

I stood there for a moment before breaking the ice myself, “Alright then… Alexander? Meet Charles. He’s a teaching assistant in most of my main lectures this semester. He was just coming over to check on me since I’d kinda gone AWOL these last few weeks. That’s all. He’s not a threat to either of us, okay? He’s a good guy and he means well. He just… had a pretty major… lapse in judgment. One of the smartest people I know… Oh, don’t glare at me like that! Besides you, of course. Okay, Charles, meet Alexander. I found him in my pantry… well, actually, my roses… well, I technically found him in the trash, I just didn’t know it yet… anyway, he’s incredibly intelligent, fiercely independent, and he’s been through some fucking major shit, yet, he still manages to come back swinging every time. To be super clear, he’s here only as long as he wants to be, he’s his own man and he has my utmost respect, even though he pisses me off every five minutes for doing gremlin shit like stabbing my friends in the fucking face. Oh, and he’s almost as big a nerd as you, so I’d like to think you two can find some common ground. So, with that said, it’s time to kiss and make up.” They each bore holes into the surface of the table. I refused to take no for an answer, “Apologize to each other, now.”

Both their heads whipped up, brows furrowed, incredulous sputters erupting from both mouths, big and small. Then, upon realizing I was serious, and almost as if on cue, both shouted, “Me?! What did I do?!”

“Jesus Christ, do I have to do all the heavy lifting around here?” I couldn’t help but massage my temples, a stress headache no doubt on the near horizon, “Charles? Gimme your eyes…” My friend’s lips flattened into a line as he raised one eyebrow as if to say, ‘Really, Nat?’ My bad. Wrong turn of phrase, given that one of his seeing organs was nearly lost just a few minutes ago.

I sighed, settling into the chair between the two uneasy parties, each glaring over his shoulder at the other, “Sorry, well, your one good one, then… Look…” Fuck, bad phrasing again, what was wrong with me? “…I haven’t even had a chance to properly thank you for braving this shit weather to come check on me. I know I haven’t been super responsive and you’re a good friend…”

The tiny scoff in the vicinity of my right elbow made me, albeit briefly, change course, “Zip it, Alexander!” Instead of acquiescing quietly, he, of course, had to make a big show of his dislike of being told what to do. He threw his small weight dramatically against the ugly, chipped, ceramic salt shaker my grandma gifted me years ago.

The object hardly even rocked as he pressed against it, rolling over his shoulder to turn away from me and obscure himself from view behind the white and blue patterned flowers, “…Anyway, where was I?” I turned my attention back to Charles, “Yes, you’re awesome, thank you for always watering my plants when I go home on break and for making the hellscape that is lawschool slightly more bearable. However… As you can see, there’s something significantly different from last time we really talked and there’s some important things you need to know: He may look like the cutest little blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel that you’ve ever seen, he may be so adorably small that he can fit in just the palm of your hand and, yes, in theory, if you were really determined to pick him up you could do so without too much resistance, but when I tell you it is against your own self interest to fuck with this little man I am speaking from extensive experience. He deserves as much respect as anyone else, big or small. He’s fought for that all his life and at least in the confines of this apartment, he’ll get what he’s worked so hard for. Believe me, he had to train me too, in the beginning. Listen to him and everyone will be much better off for it, I promise. Do not condescend to him, do not touch him without his permission and do not, under any circumstances, treat him as anything less than the hyper intelligent, wonderful little nightmare he is.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught tiny movements on the table’s surface below, a pair of blue eyes staring up at me through blonde, curtained bangs as he listened intently. I didn’t dare flash my gaze in that direction, knowing full well once he’d been caught in the act, he’d turn away again.

Charles was quick to respond, applying pressure with a few fingers around the banadage on his cheek, as if spot checking for blood, “Little nightmare is fuckin’ right. What did I do? I was kind. I helped him. I tried to be as gentle as I could. Look at him, he’s adorable… er, was… Can I really be blamed for that?” He shrugged defensively, “I mean, c’mon, they’re tiny, they’re cute, isn’t that, like, the whole point?”

I was going to strangle him, “Dude, did you listen to a single thing I just said?”

“What?! I thought they liked it!”

“You thought I… what?” No longer satisfied with lingering behind the salt shaker, Alexander rose to standing. Without his cane, which, in all the fuss, I’d stupidly left in the bedroom, he steadied himself with one hand on the painted ceramic, his chest puffed out, a defiant gleam in his eye. Oh boy, here we go. I knew better than to get in his way, but I couldn’t help taking a long swig from my glass in preparation for the tirade that was about to transpire, “Please, repeat yourself, you thought I… what was that again?”

Charles stuttered, flashing glances at me. His face was drawn, he instinctively leaned back, away from the little man before him who was unflinchingly glaring up in his direction. He knew he’d been caught, “W-well, I just… you know what I meant…”

“You thought I liked being talked down to and treated with disregard? Interesting. What part of my reaction gave you that impression?” Even from this distance (perhaps a foot or so across the surface of the table) I could see his blue eyes were burning. Charles failed to respond, simply sputtering instead. I knew Alexander was just loving every second of this… smart little bastard, “No, I’m curious. You’re an aspiring attorney, aren’t you? Go on, then. Defend your case.”

Charles looked at me and I offered no solace, instead, I simply raised an eyebrow and downed another substantial fraction of my drink. As the little man spoke, goading the much larger recipient into a debate, he stepped away from the shaker, crossing toward Charles’ end of the table. I immediately bit my lip as he left the support behind and bore weight on his still weak leg. I did my best not to intervene, holding my breath as he made a few steps forward, a painful limp evident in his gait. Despite the pain, no doubt shooting through his body, his voice never waivered. Goddamn, I was proud of him, even if he was insulting my friend left and right. He tucked a hand into his side pocket, the other resting on his chest with a poised ease, his fingers spread from his solar plexus down the length of his sternum. This little nightmare knew precisely what he was doing, and I couldn’t help but watch, “Charles, wasn’t it? Tell me, Charles, how would you like it, if–” Just then, as he took another step forward, his knee failed to bear his weight, and he buckled.

Gasping, my hand flew toward him, offering him support with a few fingers. He fell forward into my grasp, a snarl curling his mouth as his hands spread on my fingertips. He leaned against me until he regained his balance, gripping onto the segments of my fingers to pull himself back up. My heart was in my throat, as I searched his little face for signs of pain, noticing the rhythm of his own tiny heartbeats, though they spiked for a moment, didn’t seem to be going into overdrive. Setting his shoulders, he pushed forward, against my hand, attempting to continue on his path. I hesitated, providing the slightest resistance. His brow knit and those burning irises locked with mine again, “Natalie, I’m fine. Let go.”

He wasn’t scared. His face was flushed and his bangs were disheveled, but his eyes were steeled and determined. I pulled my hand away without hesitation, wincing internally at each furious little limping stride he took, his fists balled at his sides.

He regarded the man before him, whose eyeline may as well have been the summit of a sizable cliff face in their proportion to each other. The little man stood fearlessly beside a tumbler full of alcohol that he could have bathed in, sucked in a clean breath and laid into the larger man, “What you fail to understand is that there is not a single cell in my body that likes my current predicament,” As he spoke, his left pointer finger sawed and jabbed the air like some sort of rhetorical blade intent on wounding his target, “I did not ask for you to loom over me, to touch me, to condescend or pacify me. I am not your friend, I don’t know you in any familiar way, yet you see someone like me, adorable and tiny, as I believe you put it, and you immediately assume that makes me somehow less valuable as a sentient being. You think that just because you can overpower me you have every right to do so. And I concede, in the current political landscape, you are legally allowed, no… not allowed, you are, in fact, encouraged to do so. And why shouldn’t you? I exist explicitly for your entertainment, don’t I? And, in any case, what am I going to do about it, even if I don’t like it? I couldn’t possibly, out of a desire for self-preservation, consider the idea of fighting back, could I? No! No, of course not. Because, as you put it, I’m just a ‘sweet little guy’, who ‘likes it’ when you treat me like an object. Indeed, it feels about as wonderful as a letter opener lodged in your face!”

There was a pregnant pause between all three of us, as the gravity of his words pervaded the room. Both Charles and I couldn’t help but stare ashamedly into the inky depths of our drinks. I knew I was no saint, myself, when it came to the little man. He stood now with a rod straight spine, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his lungs heaved with the task of receiving oxygen again, his unflinching gaze trained on the avoidant eyes of his opposite. I knew I’d fucked up hundreds of times: pissed him off, disspointed him, failed him. He was so right, and it was important we shut up and listen.

The only sound was the heater rattling away, once again.

“... Fuck…” Charles sighed, leaning all the way back in his chair now, his head in his hands. He was full of remorse “I’m… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t… You’re right, I just jumped to… I’m sorry, Alexander.” I watched the little man who wore his every thought on his sleeve, as he took this in. He was shocked. His head cocked to the side, his brow furrowed, his lips parting just slightly from their usual tight, pensive tension. He hadn’t expected this. Not at all. He blinked rapidly, his rigid posture softening ever so slightly as he was taken off-guard.

Charles, taking precautions not to move too suddenly, pushed his chair out and leaned on the lip of the table, his chin resting on his forearm. As he moved, Alexander took a half step back, wary and uncertain about the whole situation, still, he never cowered and his eyes showed no fear. As the larger man settled himself, he was still a good distance from the baffled little man with whom he was now almost eye level. Slowly, he offered his index finger, “I’m sorry I insulted you. Can you forgive me?” Alexander regarded the man with suspicion, his brows knitted and his lips turned down into a sort of puzzled caution.

Still, to my utter surprise, instead of using this moment of genuine vulnerability against his opponent, the little man stepped forward in all his five and a half inches and, albeit not all that enthusiastically, took the offered digit in the palm of his hand and shook it tersely before quickly breaking away.

Charles didn’t linger in his space for long and soon returned to an upright position, as Alexander rubbed the center of his palm with the ball of his opposite thumb. It was clear we all needed some air.

“Hey,” Charles met my gaze as I got his attention, “Could you do us a favor and go get his cane?” He and I exchanged a knowing glance. It was clear he understood what I was really asking for, “Just… just in case…” With a terse nod, the man in the wool sweater rose and disappeared down the hall.

As the sound of his steps faded, I turned my full attention to the five and a half inches of a little life before me. It was just us again, after what’d felt like an eternity of drama. For the first time since that knock on the door, the air seemed to come a little more freely into my lungs. I propped my head on an elbow and looked him over. I watched his little body release pent up tension, his defensive spine melting into the everyday rigidity of his usual posture. Poor thing. Did he ever really allow himself to relax? He thrust his hands into his pockets, leaning his weight on his left side. I wondered how his leg was holding up. He hadn’t strained it this much since his surgery. I wanted desperately to offer him a hand to lean on but didn’t want to patronize. I bit my lip.

Seeming to read my mind like a book, his keen eyes flitted in my direction, “I’m fine.” Are you, though? Or are you putting on a brave face? “I can tell you want to touch me as some form of physical comfort. So, go ahead, get it over with…” he lowered his head and spread his arms, as if surrendering.

A pang of guilt shot through me, “No, I don’t want to make you endure it. If you want me to leave you alone, I will.”

“You’re going to pout if I don’t allow for some form of contact. So, go on, just do what you’d like, within reason…” his head had stayed lowered to the ground until his very last few words, when his icy irises flashed up at me, and I caught a glimpse of a very different kind of glow in his eyes, one that was much softer, more vulnerable. I’d opened my mouth to rebuff him again when those eyes changed everything.

Oh.

This was his way of asking for it. His pride would never allow him to directly request what he wanted at this moment, especially not after chastising us both for our sins of condescension. I didn’t blame him. He’d been threatened, humiliated, laughed at, and stressed out. Maybe a minute or two to rest would do a world of good for him but, of course, he couldn’t admit to wanting something from me, that would be far too weak. We couldn’t acknowledge the reality of that truth for the sake of his ego, so I played along instead, “Just for a minute, please? You tell me when you’ve had enough torture for one day and I’ll let you go.” He nodded, eyes still fixed to the ground. Although it was almost impossible to see his face, I swear I saw more color in his cheek.

“Yes, yes, let’s get this over with.”

I slid my hand over to him, very gently wrapping my fingers around his legs and back, pressing the ball of my thumb into his chest and torso. Even though his face stayed neutral and he hardly moved at all, I couldn’t help but notice a release of his strained muscles as he was finally able to release all the pressure off of his injury. It’s okay to get help when you’re hurting. I couldn’t keep my brows from knitting together in concern. It pained me that he tried so very hard to be strong and independent. I completely understood where the impulse came from but I hated that he was in pain and toughing it out when I was happy to help. I sat with my hand propping him up for a few moments, wanting nothing more than a closer look, “May I pick you up?”

“Yes, fine.” His face was a little pinker than it had been, I was sure of it. Gently, I settled him across the platform of my fingers, his right leg placed carefully along the length of my palm with his heel balanced on my wrist. The ball of my thumb remained in his lap with a looser grip as I drew him up to the level of my eyes.

He sat there stiffly, not allowing himself the luxury of relaxing fully into my hand. I wished he’d stop being so uptight but now was not the time to fight him on it. Still, as I looked him over, I felt an immediate swell of pride expand my chest and warm my face. I didn’t realize he’d been watching me with equal attention to detail, until he spoke, “What is it, Natalie?” His voice lacked its usual defensive edge. He was genuinely asking.

“I just think you’re absolutely incredible. You are literally the bravest, most unhinged person I know.” Did his face get a little redder? All he could manage as a response was to roll his eyes, “No, I mean it! You looked at someone over ten times your size and without hesitation were just like, ‘Yeah I can take him’. Who does that?!” The tiniest ghost of a twinge of a smirk uplifted the corner of his crooked little smile. There you are, Alexander, the real you underneath it all. “When I really think about it, I can’t even be mad at you. You are one badass little motherfucker. Don’t ever change. Okay?” I rubbed my thumb across his chest, as he begrudgingly nodded, the smirk cracking into a half smile, while he rested a hand over the bed of my thumb nail. I admit, I felt the blood in my veins pump a little faster, “We can all stand to learn a thing or two from you on how not to take other people’s bullshit.”

“I hope you plan to take copious notes after all this.”

“Oh, it’s a must!”

He cleared his throat and shifted in my hand, sitting himself up a bit straighter, his gaze took a moment to land as he settled, clearly preparing to speak in greater earnest, “I suppose… I feel at least a modicum of remorse… for staining his otherwise high quality sweater.”

I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from cackling out loud, “You’re such a bastard! Of course all you care about is his fashion sense!”

Alexander was smiling too, as he pressed against my thumb, emphatically gesturing to the bedroom far off to his right, “What?! It’s the only redeemable quality about him! Did you expect me to lie for the purpose of overt flattery? Have you met me?”

Just then we heard the opening of a door down the hall, as the man in question began to re-emerge. I stroked the side of the little man’s head with my thumb, as I cocked an eyebrow at him, as if to say “Do you want to be put down?” He nodded brusquely, and I did as I was asked, gently lowering him and tipping my hand so he could find his feet before letting go entirely.

As the footsteps approached ever nearer, I leaned down and whispered so only Alexander could hear, “You know, if you wanted a sweater like that all you had to do was ask, you didn’t have to destroy his!”

“Says the woman who still hasn’t made good on her promise to fulfill my modest suit requests.”

“Three piece Italian suits and silk ties are not modest. Even for someone of your size! I’m saving up, alright? Get off my back!” I prodded him playfully in the chest as he batted at my fingertip.

In a moment, Charles would be standing before us, and there would begin a new matter as we all awkwardly tried to reset and start over, each much more aware of the others’ feelings on the whole situation. But for now, it was just the little blonde devil and me and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Was it weird that I was kinda excited to watch him lose his shit at us again? Not that I had any intention of provoking him, but it wasn’t far from feasible that we’d inevitably do something to offend him. It just made me proud to watch him unapologetically stand up for himself, even if I got caught in the crossfire. Looking down at him now, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Had his opinions towards me shifted in that direction at all? Or was I a target for spite and disdain like my friend approaching the table? I didn’t think so. At least, not to the same degree. The way his eyes had softened when we were finally alone, the way he’d asked me to hold him in the most passive aggressive roundabout way possible… I thought deep down in that little stone heart of his was a warm spot for me, even if it was microscopic in size at this point.

Maybe, just maybe, with a lot of effort I could fan that ember into something bigger. But who knew? There was only so much room in a chest the size of my finger tip.

#Well that was a rollercoaster #Stranger danger!#Angry little man he attacc he protecc #g/t related #g/t writing #g/t community #giant/tiny #g/t angst #a fraction of justice #g/t #size difference #gt

89 notes · View notes

droumack · 7 months ago

Note

i love love love ur most recent fic. if you do decide to continue (which no pressure ofc) I predict there’ll be some angst bc nates still young & douchey & since they have to keep their relationship private he might just make Jo feel like a hookup. jo also gets self conscious bc he feels like Nate’s using him to understand his sexuality & since he’s the projected top draft pick “hot girls” keep throwing themselves at nate (ofc no ones more beautiful than Jo).

also I noticed in the fic nate said he wanted to “fuck” jo, not rlly be in a relationship & he didn’t express too many feelings. ofc emotionally stunted pre sports psychologist nate probs wouldn’t have been great at expressing feelings but I wonder if you left that a little vague on purpose…

also I notice a lot of players will have girlfriends at the draft (& then will break up just a few months later). but maybe nate feels pressured to have a girlfriend as the draft comes up which only hurts Jo more. thinking of sweet baby nerd Jo being heartbroken actually makes me want to cry I never want to see him hurt ever hes too precious.

a heartbroken jo who already struggles with anxiety & his self esteem with an emotionally stunted nate whose still dealing with his anger results in a fight where Nate says some things he regrets & they break it off. also the part where nate gets a hat trick when jo comes to the game vs no points when Jo isn’t there so maybe jo feels like nate never even liked him & was just using him as one of his strange hockey superstitions. that combined with his low self esteem & internalized homophobia I just… (I’m not very articulate thus why I don’t write but yk, Jo’s not doing well).

maybe right after Jo’s distraught but he eventually takes the time to heal & Nate is “fine” at first but then after the high of the draft & immediately starting in the nhl as a rookie he rlly starts to process the break up & realizes he was in love with jo & misses him BAD. maybe he to stalk Jo on instagram & he’s now in his freshman yr at college & he’s had a bit of a “glow up” (still adorable nerd Jo but yk) & there are tagged pictures of him with other guys who are pretty touchy and look VERY interested. ofc pre sports psychologist angry Nate spirals a bit & has to hold himself back from flying to Jo’s college town & murdering any guy who looks at him.

nate & jo do end up together again but only AFTER jo makes nate work for it for a long time. also jo’s still navigating his low self worth when Nate first tries to get back with him & there’s a break Nate’s heart when he says something like “every time I look at you I feel worthless.”

also I do love the idea of Nate helping jo pay tuition (esp bc he wants to go to college in the US & as a senior in college rn ts is so expensive😭). maybe he does it secretly. like jo is on one of those “special” scholarships (like the fancy ones with a name for students who most exemplify certain qualities, idk im just on financial aid) but then an anonymous donor has added like $10k more for the next 5 yrs. Also 5 yrs so the school doesn’t get suspicious ab why this donation is only for Jos years there.

ok wait I just realized how much I wrote and you ABSOLUTELY DO NOT have to write this I promise this isn’t like a request ur recent fic just inspired me so much. sorry if this all nonsensical I’m not the best writer😭 you can literally just leave this in ur inbox I totally get it but love you bruinss!! can’t way for ur next fic or even just ur next tumblr post I love when u update even if it’s just a reblog!!

OH WOW HELLO ANON thank you for this gorgeous wall of text, I love all your thoughts

while this would be fun, this is not the direction I have my high school fic going in!

that said I highly encourage to you write your own natejo high school fic because i would devour a plot based on the above

#ask me anything

19 notes · View notes

tired-and-unjellied · 1 year ago

Note

Two weeks ago I was admitted to Hala AlShawa Medical Center after the assailants raped me and also killed my beloved father in an attempt to save me. Unspeakable violation continues to haunt me only to find out that on my return from the hospital they had killed my mother too having no idea where my sibling is since he is nowhere to be found. Right now I am being accommodated by family friends who intend to drop me at the Rafah camp which I’m not okay with since I’m planning to flee to Egypt where my relatives are and at the camp once I get in for one to be released for safe evacuation you need to have $7000 which I can’t afford. Life's burdens weigh heavy on my young shoulders as I navigate the harsh realities of existence. Your support will make a significant difference in alleviating the my suffering.

That's a scam

It's a one-day old that somehow found and asked several small accounts, as if they had a list of tumblr urls

It's the same pfp as a known scammer, @maddiemartines aka @naomiglowy, so it was likely stolen off a legitimate GoFundMe or Twitter user

EDIT: turns out she is Maddie/Naomi; I had them blocked already, so Tumblr wouldn't show them to me, I guess? (I'm not adding them to the list below, for readability’s sake)

The same message has been used on Tumblr, again and again, by different accounts: salimaabdallah, superbavenuechaos, salimahsblog, even anonymous asks. (superbavenuechaos notably has the same banner picture) "my other account is not getting attention 😢" They are all banned.

The tags are misleading: #fundraiser#charity#gofundme#mutual aid#donations#donation -> it's a PayPal, not a GoFundMe, and PayPal is blocked in Palestine (I have no idea if Fundraiser is a specific website or not?)

I will throw some sources under the cut.

Tumblr search showing the text matches:

Post about Maddie Martins aka @naomiglowy, by @/kyra45, a scam buster (edit: new link for the new addition, given we now know OP is Maddie)

#scentedwinnerlady #salimaabdallah #superbavenuechaos #salimahsblog #scams #scamming #donation scams #donation scam #scam alert #online scams #tw sa #maddieemartinss #maddiemartiness #maddiemartins #naomiglowy #maddiemartines #🗨️ slimey answers

20 notes · View notes

asumofwords · 2 years ago

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello babies, wooooooo only 2 more chapters to go. The last chapter is next, and then we have the Epilogue.... HOLY FUCKKKKKKKKKKK! I can't believ it honestly!! How crazy is that? Anyway... Enjoy <3

Chapter 108: Ash

On the grass before the mouth of Blackwater Rush, fire consumed the bodies of those who had been responsible for crowning Aegon as King, and aiding in keeping him there.

The people who had aided in keeping you trapped in the walls of the Red Keep, to be subjected to two brothers cruelties. Those who had broken their oaths to your mother, to King Viserys, those who had turned cloak against them.

Lady Alicent Hightower, a woman who was conniving and bitter, a woman who conspired against your mother, was now naught but a charred and blackened lump on the grass, surrounded by her peers.

She had screamed out into the air, much as they had, but it was short lived as Vermithor’s flames consumed them, until soon enough, their bodies, and hers, were charred and nothing but ash and bones.

And you watched them burn, as their cries of agony became silenced, until all that could be heard was the flames that roared from your dragons mouth until he pulled away growling beside you. You looked at those accountable, and felt nothing but triumph.

Joy.

Elation.

As though you were drunk, or high on the milk of the poppy or the sweetest and richest of ale from Dorne.

Of no doubt were you angry, vengeful, and out for blood, but in that moment, watching them die? It was sweeter than any honeyed wine in Essos, any spiced wine from Dorne. Sweeter than the nectar of any star fruit, or the taste of lemon tarts.

It was cathartic.

It was justice.

And it was final.

They were gone, just like the others, and an example of what was to come if anyone dared try to question or go against the Queen again.

You would make sure of that.

Your father would make sure of that.

But despite the sense of finalisation of your mothers rule, there was something that pulled at your gut, a whispering in the back of your mind, and almost nagging that you knew, not all was done, and that there was something else that you still needed to do.

You turned, pressing a hand to Vermithor’s neck, patting over his scales as his crackling purr came out loudly into the air. You whispered to him, that you missed him, that he did a good job, and that you would be right back to be with him again.

The dragon huffed, spreading its wings wide before moving to take off into the sky again, flying down and around the cliff to make his way to the entrance of the Dragon Pit.

The Lords and guards dispersed slowly, casting back feeble glances at the smoking bodies of the traitors before making their way back inside of the Keep. You walked with determination, strides confident, until you stood before your parents, who looked at you with pride.

“There is something I need to do.”

Daemon and Rhaenyra cast uneasy glances at each other before looking back at you. Rhaenyra’s mouth opened, lips parting to speak.

“I promise I will return.” You assured them.

As though Rhaenyra knew of what you meant, and Daemon sensing such shortly after, the Queen nodded to you, and pressed a hand against your cheek as she kissed the other, thrice, allowing for you to walk back inside of the Keep silently.

Aemond’s chambers were open, and as you walked inside, the smell of blood flooded your senses. Your stomach roiled, tears gathering in your eyes, but you steeled yourself with a steady breath, counting in your head as you walked.

But by the thirteenth step, when you finally reached his bed, you were met with nothing but a pile of bloodied sheets and pillows, the red having turned brown and crusted, an almost outline of his body pressed into where he had laid.

As you looked at the empty bed, you felt his presence beside you.

In your periphery, Aemond stood at your side in black, looking down at the bed he had passed in. His hair was pulled back in the small braids you had coaxed him to wear, and his usual sweeping black coat was atop his broad chest.

His face however, was impassive. Not sad, nor angry, nor relieved.

Just plain.

Unfeeling.

Unmoving.

A stark difference to Helaena or Lucerys.

Silver hair shifted over his shoulder as he turned to look at you, the sapphire of his eye catching the light in the chambers.

Your breath caught in your throat, and a sob worked its way up as a small trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his seeing eye. But then his head kept turning, until he looked over his shoulder and down at the floor.

The Sept.

The frame of the painting was cool to the touch as you pushed it open, slipping through the dark shadows of the passage way, making your way down to the Sept. Each step had your breath hitching in your throat as you felt him follow behind you, and you had to remind yourself that he could not hurt you.

That he wasn’t real.

That he was gone.

King Aemond Targaryen lay on the cool stone slab of the Sept, still in nothing bar his bloodied breeches, not having been cleaned nor prepped for a funeral as no one knew what to do with him.

Was he to be treated as a traitor, cut into seven pieces and mounted atop the seven gates as a warning? As a lesson?

Or was his burial to be swift, and quiet, down in the Sept, locked away beneath stone to never be seen again?

His hair was caught beneath him as you made your way over, brushing it away from his face with gentle and shaking hands. Though you knew he was dead, that he had passed and it had been at your hands, it still shocked you to find his skin so cold, so icy. So different to how it had been.

To how he would shower you in his warmth, nestled against his chest. How he would sit at your side and hold your hands in his, warm and confident. How he would press his heated lips to your cheeks, to your eyes, to your lips, the top of your hair, your hands.

All the warmth that the man once had, that he had once given you, had bled from him at your hands.

And it hurt.

It ached to know what you had done.

A betrayal most foul.

A crime that you would have to live with for the rest of your days. Something that you could never forgive yourself for, and worried that the Gods would not either. That soon you would meet their punishment for having slayed him, another act of Kinslaying, a premeditated act so foul that you heaved a gag, stomach emptying beside him.

Leaning down over him, you pressed another kiss to his lips, cold and stiff beneath yours, “I’m sorry.” You whispered to him, stroking his cheek, “I am sorry for what I have done. I have betrayed you, betrayed you in a way that you did not deserve. Not in my eyes. I wish you would be here to see it all now. To see reason. If only you had seen reason, I would not have been pushed to do what I have done.”

A tear fell onto his cheek, which you wiped away with your thumb, “I do not regret it. I cannot. If I regret such an act, I will drive myself to madness. So I must live with this, Aemond. Live with knowing I have slain my love. The man whom I wed. Who I grew with. The father of my child.”

Your sobs echoed in the Sept below, footsteps were heard behind you, their soft feet scuffling across the stone floor.

“You will always be with me.” You whispered down to Aemond’s body, hand coming to press against your stomach, “Always.”

When you turned, you came face to face with your brother Jacaerys, and behind him a Septa.

You swallowed, brushing away the tears that fell across your cheeks, “Please have his body removed and taken to the Dragon Pit.” You commanded the Septa quietly, who bowed and moved back into the shadows.

Short steps took you to Jacaerys, whose face was fraught with concern, eyes darting from you then to the body behind you.

“Walk with me.” You asked, looping a hand through his arm.

And he did.

As the two of you walked, a silence surrounded you both. One where there were too many questions left unanswered, and the static energy that flickered between you like flames made you speak first.

“I loved him.” Your voice came out unsteady, feeling Jacaerys’ eyes on you, “Against all odds, I did. And I know that I shouldn’t have, that he was cruel and unkind. That he took Lucerys from us. But I did. And I won’t apologise for it. Nor will I desperately seek the reasons as to why. It just is, and I hope that you can, some day, come to see that and forgive me.”

Jacaerys stayed quiet, holding your hand in his, his palm callused and dry, rough skin rubbing against yours.

“It has not been an easy journey here in this Keep. Being alone, subjected to their cruelty for months on end, it changes a person. But Aemond also changed, he became someone I could trust. Someone I could confide in. I know you may not belie-“

“-I believe you.” The young Prince interrupted you softly, his head turned to watch you carefully as you descended the steps toward the Dragon Pit, “I only wish that you had not been pushed to act as you have.”

You paused your steps, turning to face him.

Much of his boyishness had gone, and his face had hardened into a man, a light layer of stubble dusted his jaw and chin, and his cheeks had lost the soft charm that Lucerys had, and had hollowed to defined cheekbones.

He looked so much like Ser Harwin Strong.

“I have missed you.” You smiled tearily, patting his hand gently.

Jacaerys smiled back, leaning down to press a kiss atop your head, “And I you, more than you know.”

You resumed your walk, content to leave the quiet around you. Your challenges in the months past can be shared with your family later, perhaps when the dust has settled and all tales of survival could be told without tears.

Perhaps then, you could tell them the truth of it all, and not just mere notes.

As you came to the Dragon Pit, the sounds of dragons filled the cavern loudly. It strange. It seemed so full of life again, many returning to a place they had not been in years, some joining for the very first time.

You walked until the pit opened and the light from outside momentarily blinded you, causing the both of you to blink rapidly so that your eyes could adjust. Each step you took, took you closer to what you knew you needed to do.

It was a short flight, over the beach of Kings Landing and to the rolling green hills that lay further down in the realm.

To ride upon Vermithor’s back after so long away was strange, and you could not help but cry tears of joy. But as you gripped onto him, holding a worn rope that had been slung upon his neck, you made a note to ask for a seat to be placed atop him.

No more would you ride without one.

The wind caught in your hair as he hovered above the ground, before moving slightly forward to land heavily atop the grass. You slid from his back, the view of Kings Landing behind you as the sun slowly began to set.

There on the grass, hastily wrapped in burial cloth was Aemond.

Vermithor stretched his large head down to the body he had carried and sniffed at it, a soft cooing sound coming from deep within the bronze dragons chest. You patted his neck softly as you made your way over, looking down at the swaddled corpse before bending down to place one last kiss atop his wrapped head.

The cream cloth had begun to stain red where some parts of blood had not dried fully and stained it burgundy.

It was the smell that was the most horrid of it. Thick, and irony, the blood that coated his body made you breathe through your mouth in avoidance. But the breeze carried it away shortly after, and you stood back to look at the man you had loved.

A man you had grown up with, stuck to each others sides.

A man you had fought with, whether in the tunnels of the Keep, in the sky above Storms End, or the chambers that had been yours and his.

A man you had fought for.

A man who had taken so much from you, your freedom, your life, the unscarred skin of your flesh. Your brother. Your sanity.

And a man who had given you so much.

Joy. Pleasure. A child.

Love.

Your lips parted as you moved to speak the command, but your voice was lost with the wind as it crackled and split, a soft sob falling from your lips as tears fell from your eyes.

Vermithor purred beside you, head nudging into your body softly as you continued to look down at his body, dry lips cracked and bitten raw as you tried to breathe the command again to the sky.

“Dr… Draca-…” Another sob, wracking your body as you smoothed your hands down against your sides. You lifted your chin high, sucking in a sharp breath, and then, you whispered it out against the wind.

A word that had been whispered in your ear for months. A word that had haunted you to no avail. A word that you didn’t wish to utter in that moment.

“Dracarys.”

The Bronze Fury reared his head back, before dropping it forward, fire engulfing the dead King’s body in flames, the sound blaring in your ears as you watched.

It was not a pleasant smell, burnt flesh, but it dissolved quickly in the wind as his body became ash and bones, the dragon not stopping until it was sure that it was enough.

The flames subsided, and smoke rose from the ashes that lay at the scorched grass before you.

Did the Gods truly create this path for you?

A path of pain and destruction?

No end to the suffering that would follow you for the rest of your days, the shadows of the past, the whispers of those lost, the ones that you took?

There was no end to it.

No end in sight.

The smoke around you simmered away from the fire that had raged on, and now all that was left was ash.

The ashes of the man you wished had stayed.

The ashes of a man who had all hope taken from him as a child.

The Gods path for him was a cruel one, starting from the moment he was born. No dragon. Loss of an eye. Everything taken from him, his life taken from him.

The chance to see and watch his child grow, taken from him.

But everything had been taken from you too.

You had lost everything.

And all for the throne.

Was it worth it?

All that loss? All that suffering? The scars on your body and mind?

Was the culmination of all those worth the final moment in which you stood?

There was no certainty into what the future would hold.

Perhaps the Gods were not quite done with you yet, but deep down, all you could think; Was this all you had been made for?

To suffer at the hands of others?

Had you not given enough?

Your mind, your body, your freedom, your spirit?

But Rhaenyra, your loving mother, she had given everything too. She had losses that almost mounted yours. Your brother. Her father. Your sister.

Was it worth it?

It was then, as you looked down at the ashes, the wind blowing the blades of grass that survived around the singed patch, disturbing the embers and what little bones remained, that you saw a glint of something.

A reminder.

On unsteady feet, with silent tears tracking down your cheeks, you saw the round sapphire orb that you had spent what felt like an eternity looking into.

There, on the grassy knoll, the Red Keep looming not too far way, and Vermithor shifting behind you, it was then, as you both looked at the surviving piece of Aemond, that you came to a conclusion of your questions.

Yes, it was.

Or, it would be.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

Bold is who I cannot tag!

356 notes · View notes