#Being told there's nothing good to come of all this by her future self?

[jyou-no-sonoko19]

She's sacrificed too much to doubt herself now.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP #33

InDependent Together

Imagine dis…

I’ve seen the interactions between Danny and the Batfam. I have seen him have either good or bad interactions with different DC characters, whether he is in his ghost form or not. I’ve seen how Danny is either angry at the world or angry at his brother aka Damian for killing him all for the title of the heir, and how happy and relieved he is to find his brother outside of the reach of the demon head.

But I haven’t seen much of Danny and a semi-redempted Vlad in a toxic relationship.

…

Gotham, a place where the worst of the worst came to live. Where gunshots and screams of murder are something out of the norm. A group of vigilantes made their way to the heart of the city, where despite all of its dirt and grimness, they still tried and loved this city.

Here comes Danny Fenton and Vlad Masters, who moved in the same neighborhood as the Wayne’s. Now Danny is under the guardianship of Vlad, why you ask? It's because a different tragedy occurred. If the explosion at the Nasty Burger was caused by his cheating on a test, now it was something so mundane that Danny didn’t know if Clockwork didn’t see the event due to it. His aunt also died in another freak accident and he sometimes wondered if he tempted faith too much ever since his accident.

 Having no choice he was placed with Vlad as his legal guardian, he wasn’t too keen on the idea but he saw Vlad slowly trying to redeem himself so instead of running away he chose to stay.

…

Vlad is both ecstatic and still in grief at what happened in a month. He was trying to be better, he was making progress to be able to go back to their dynamic when they were still in college. Just maybe this time it will include Danny and Jazz, but tragedy stuck, after months of hard work and compromises it all went down the drain. He was in the middle of his grief when a social worker knocked on his door to inquire about Daniel’s guardianship, which stunned Vlad because he would have thought that the boy had already run away or told the social worker himself that he didn’t want to be placed with him.

The social worker informed Vlad that Danny’s aunt had met her demise as a form of house invasion gone wrong. With no one else to care for the teen, the social worker went to the godfather of the child seeing that the teen that they are in charge with seems to be still dissociating ever since they looked for his aunt. Poor kid, the social worker thought, losing all of your family and friends in a single day. They just hoped that the kid would be taken care of and slowly heal with his godfather.

…

They moved across states to heal, to get far away from the town that seemingly only did was to take and take from the two. Vlad is gripping the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white, his obsession, the one he is too afraid of, and his primary. It kept yelling at him at the back of his head. Maddie Fenton, Power & wealth, and lastly Daniel Fenton are the secondary obsessions that he often shows, but he has another obsession a primary one that is something he kept hidden out of fear of being shattered, family, something he thought to create with Maddie back when they were in college. Vlad can feel it, the way his mind and instincts are all yelling, screaming at him to protect the last thread of his sanity and existence who is watching idly at the trees as they drive by.

By all that's left of my sanity, I swear to protect you, Daniel my Little Badger, at any cost. Nothing will stand in the way of keeping you safe.

…

Danny is also recalling past events, despite having protection as his secondary obsession a part of him broke, and he tried to prevent this event in his life. He thought the ghost of time that he saw as a grandfather would have helped him to avoid it. Didn’t he already avoid such tragedy, fight his future self and win? But in the end, it was still meant to be.

So now, his young core latched onto the last remaining member of his known family. If his past self could see him now, he would call him fraternizing with the fruit loop. He didn’t care, just the thought of Vlad just having a mere paper cut made him go near the edge or even turning feral.

With everyone gone, you're all I have left, Vlad. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, no matter how desperate things get, even if I have to turn into something more than Dan.

Both Vlad and Danny’s eyes began to glow an eery shade of blue and red as they both silently swore to themselves to protect the other no matter the cost. Both fell into a deep pit of promises and oaths.

…

The moment they settle down in Gotham Vlad, Vlad controls Daniel’s every movement, constantly controls Danny's life, deciding who he can befriend despite going to Gotham Academy Vlad begins insisting that the kids that attend the school are suddenly not good enough for Danny, something past him would like to have. Where Danny can go, and what Vlad can do to protect Danny from phantom threats emphasizing they now live in Gotham where every step they take is another crime on the tally. As a result, Danny becomes overly reliant on Vlad's advice and is concerned about making decisions without his approval. He puts himself in perilous circumstances to protect Danny, which causes shame and guilt-tripping.

Especially the last time they went out, they were held hostage by the Joker. Thinking that Danny was a Wayne. Vlad immediately went feral, without outing himself, and killed the men who held him down and brutally filled the clown with lead as he dared to hold Danny in such a way that might trigger his past trauma.

..

But Vlad isn't the only one who uses such tactics, Danny also starts to use underhand methods to gain Vlad’s attention and care for himself. Danny manipulates Vlad by stressing his vulnerabilities and emphasizing the necessity for protection. Danny with tears in his eyes recounts Vlad’s past schemes as a means to exploit Vlad's guilt and pity, forcing him to give in to Danny’s demands for attention. Danny instigates crisis circumstances, falsely promises transformation, and presents himself as a victim. Danny began to expect continual attention and validation, leaving Vlad increasingly reliant on being the only one to praise Danny. Finally, Danny dupes Vlad into offering financial assistance by inflating his demands or creating expenses associated with his human activities within their home.

Danny was relieved when he was chosen to be the main hostage instead of Vlad, but the moment Vlad began to go on feral just to save him. Danny’s little heart began to break, is he not strong enough to protect Vlad? What if he broke something… what if he suffered a heart attack?

Thoughts kept spiraling in Danny’s head as he had that vacant look ever since he saw Vlad throw the first punch to the nearest goon.

…

A QUICK FLASHBACK ON THE POV OF THE BATFAM

The Wayne manor began the morning with a buzzing of news that a new family is moving into the same street at Wayne’s Outsiders if you must. At first, they didn’t mind their new neighbors' quietness but something felt wrong every time they went for a walk or near that house, unfortunately, some cases needed their full attention than a quiet family that seemed to keep it to themselves.

It all came crashing down when The Joker, The prince of crime, met Danny, whom he held hostage thinking that he was a new Wayne. Vlad, the defender, and godfather, who was also there, witnessed his only and last godchild being held hostage by something/ someone he has a traumatic response and history. Brutally killed the Joker out of rage, startling even the most sinister corners of Gotham. The Batfamily confronted Vlad at his mansion and began interrogating him that he was dangerous and that Danny could not stay with him.

Danny stood between Vlad and the Batfamily, his ghostly aura radiating protecting energy. Danny, observing this, asked that they stay away from Vlad. The Batclan continued their efforts to reach Danny, bringing in various people to tell him what normal dynamics should be. Alfred, Barbara, Tim, and Jason attempted to relate to him, but Danny rejected them, his ghostly core erupting with intense protectiveness.

…

Vlad watched with triumph and dread, already knowing that Danny's loyalty would lead to a cycle of dependency on him. However, he didn't want to stop, as Danny was with HIM, and he was HIS.

The family of vigilantes, aware of the slow and painful process of breaking the toxic bond with Vlad, continued to reach out, hoping that one day Danny would understand that true family is about love and support.

For the time being, Danny, now Masters, stayed in the shadows of Gotham, imprisoned in his mind and house, both his mind and heart torn between desperate need for Vlad.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: Here’s another long one… And I got impatient in posting this one, so enjoy!

[braveclementine]

October 22- Mirror Sex (Legolas) 💙

Warnings: 18+ readers only, angst, mirror sex, prince kink, princess kink, oral sex 

Copyright: I do not own Legolas or any other LOTR characters. Annerose is a made up character, but she's barely mentioned and I don't own names either. I also do not condone any copying of this.

You gazed as the gorgeous man in front of you. Well, not so much of a man as he was an elf, one of the ancient race and you knew there was a difference- to them of course. Such a difference that the relationship between you and Legolas was kept a secret. It wasn't entirely forbidden, but Legolas was the son of an elf King. 

Your eyes trailed down his body. He had the perfect physique- as all of the elven men and women seemed to. Thin, but still fit and muscular. Long luscious blond hair and a pretty face, but still manly at the same time. 

You always felt rather. . . well ugly was a blunt word, but it still fit. Unflattering, perhaps. You knew among common mortals- as Legolas might put it- you were decently pretty, even in your own eyes, but amongst the elves. . .

Legolas was a man and beautiful. The women were something completely different. You still didn't know how Legolas could prefer you when he had so many female elves that would love to court with him. 

"You're staring." Legolas murmured softly, feeling your eyes burning into him. He opened them, his brown eyes meeting your E/C ones. Though you looked away, he could still read the emotions in them, sliding a hand across your hand. "Y/N, you are beautiful." 

You flushed, looking away completely. It was very easy for him to say it, of course. But it didn't mean anything. Not when you couldn't see it yourself. 

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Always self-conscious of the maid that came in to serve the two of you, you quickly slumped back into the sheets, feigning sleep while Legolas chuckled softly. 

You knew which elf it was the minute he greeted her by name. The elf with the silvery blue hair and large purple eyes. She was so beautiful you couldn't even believe she was a maid and even more surprised that Legolas had not had any sort of relations with her before meeting you. It had been rumored that they had, after all. But Legolas always told you the truth about whatever you asked. If he said they hadn't, then they hadn't. 

"Good morning my Prince." Annerose murmured softly, the sounds of clinking dishes being set on a tray near the bed. 

"Good morning Annerose." Legolas murmured back quietly, his hand landing gently on your shoulder blades. 

 "Um, my Prince!" Annerose said quickly, as though wanting to speak before you woke up, "I. . . there have been. . . well pardon me if this sounds forward. But you are our future King and some of the other servants. . . we've been worried about you." 

"Oh?" Legolas questioned. You could heard the curiosity in his voice. "For what reason?" 

Annerose hesitated a long time before saying rather meekly. "I know this is rather forward of me, my Prince, and I'm sorry if this comes across as rude, but we have been worried if. . . if you are satisfied." 

Your cheeks burned and Legolas hand stopped rubbing circles on your back. You held back anything you wanted to say or do, keeping up the pretense of sleep. 

Legolas responded easily. "I can assure you that it is a needless worried. I am very satisfied, Annerose." 

"Ah." Annerose sounded unhappy with this, but of course would never say so. "I'm glad my Prince. Well, if there is ever anything else, you shall ring the bell." 

"Of course. Thank you." Legolas said, the edge of his tone clearly dismissive and then suddenly called out, "Annerose!" 

"Yes, my Prince?" Her tone had the slightest hint of hope in it. 

"Please, to clear all conscious and worries, let the others know that Y/N is to be my wife. They need not worry with my love, she is all I shall ever want." Legolas said. 

Annerose said nothing more, leaving the room, the door closing behind her quietly. 

Legolas said nothing, his hand leaving your back and you felt the bed dip as he got off of it, presumably to go and get the breakfast. You stayed laying where you were, hoping to fall back into an endless sleep and get away from the humiliation. 

The bed dipped again, long lithe arms pulling you back against his chest. A sob had gotten stuck in your throat and you didn't dare let it out, so you kept your lips shut firmly, trying to even out your breathing. 

"I know you're not asleep." Legolas murmured, stroking your hair back. "And I know her words hurt you. I'm sorry they were so thoughtless, my love." 

You swallowed the sob down and once the lump was gone, you murmured softly. "I'm alright. Just tired." 

"No you're not." Legolas saw right through you. "I know exactly what you need." 

He started to kiss down the back of your spine, his lips leaving a feather trail of burning spots. His hands caressed you and when you finally opened your eyes, he picked you up, swinging you over to sit you on the end of the bed. 

"Look." He murmured softly, looking straight at something, and then you realized that it was your reflection. The two of you were reflected in the tall, body-length mirror that sat in front of his bed. Gilded and wrought with silver and emeralds, your reflections were clear as day. 

You were painfully aware of how plain you looked next to him and averted your eyes down to the carpet in front of the bed, but Legolas wasn't having any of it. His fingers lifted your chin until you were looking directly at the two of you again. 

"What do you see?" Legolas asked softly, kissing the side of your neck, before meeting your eyes in the mirror. 

"I see myself. And I see you." You stated stubbornly. 

Legolas didn't back down. "How do you think of me?" 

"You're gloriously beautiful." You replied immediately. "You're so ageless and fair, there's a gay light in your eyes at all times. Your hair is so silky and smooth, it glows. But you're also as regal as your father." 

"And how do you think of yourself?" Legolas fingers were rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh now, slightly distracting you. 

"Well, I haven't prettied myself up, so I look rather plain." You admitted, figuring that this was the game you were playing and it was time to put everything out in the open. "But then again, next to you, I'm always plain. I don't have any of your light and I don't have any elvish beauty. I wish I did. Annerose is so beautiful Legolas, I don't know how you didn't fall for her instead." 

"Because she's not you." Legolas whispered, pulling the sheets away from your body so that you were exposed- the two of you having fallen asleep naked last night. You flushed a little as he ran his fingers through your H/C mons, before sliding two fingers into your cunt. 

Legolas got off the bed, sliding to the floor in front of you. "Y/N, you're going to look into the mirror the entire time. You will not look away, you will not close your eyes, you will only look at yourself and focus on my words. You don't have to ask for permission or say anything at all. Your safe word is still in use, understand?" 

"Yes." You murmured, letting your eyes stray down for a second, looking at the glorious Prince on his knees before you, before letting your eyes move back up to your own face. 

Legolas licked a stripe through your folds, your legs shaking a little, threatening to close around his head. 

"You know what I see?" Legolas asked, before diving back in for his feast. Though you knew that you didn't have to answer, you couldn't help the slightly snarky retort that rolled off your tongue. 

"A human?" 

Legolas lightly pinched the inside of your thigh, but otherwise didn't comment. He pulled away, replacing his tongue with his fingers and answered instead, "I see a beautiful young woman. Your hair shines in the sun, and when you have it down, it curls around your face, framing it, so that it softens your features." 

You wanted to look down at him, but kept your eyes focused on the mirror, looking at yourself. It was the one thing Legolas had commanded from you, so you wanted to make sure you followed through. 

"You have a different beauty." Legolas continued, placing light kisses on the inside of your thighs. "Something no elf has, even me. Mortal beauty Y/N. You are beautiful as a human and you don't even realize it." 

'Well of course not.' You thought inside your head, staring into your own eyes, which reflected a bitter sadness back at you. 'Have you seen yourself?' 

Legolas seemed to feel your emotions because he kissed the inside of your thigh and said, "Look. Look at yourself Princess." 

Your heart fluttered with the nickname and you watched your cheeks redden just a tad. A new light was in your eyes as pleasure started to coil in your abdomen. One of your small hands came into view as you placed it lightly on Legolas' fair hair. You watched your slender fingers slide into his locks as he latched back onto your cunt. 

You watched your own eyes widen, glistening lips parting a little as you let out a moan. 

"Look how beautiful you are." Legolas mumbled, muffled slightly as he didn't let up eating you out. You let out another moan, his words causing vibrations against your lower lips. Your legs shook and you could see your cheeks turning pinker. 

"My Prince. . ." You moaned, voice quavering as you started to read the apex of your orgasm. Legolas looked beautiful between your legs, your hand tightening in his hair, the golden-white locks bunching up. He looked almost disheveled now, if that was possible. . . and it was because of you. 

Your eyes were even brighter now, almost glazed as you reached your pleasure, which felt like fire across your veins. Your body shook and you watched yourself in the mirror once more, before collapsing against the bed so that you could relax. 

You stared up at Legolas as he knelt next to you, smiling a little like you were the most adorable thing he'd seen on Middle Earth. His hand stroked your cheek until you finally smiled back at him. 

"Did you see your beauty?" Legolas asked softly. 

You knew what he meant and you could see it. He was right, it was a different sort of beauty than perhaps he was thinking about, but it was beauty. 

"Yes." You whispered. 

"Do you know why you're mine?" Legolas whispered. 

You blushed at that. "You love me." 

"Exactly." Legolas said, picking you up into his arms now, cradling you as he brought you over to sit with the food so the two of you could eat. "I love you." 

You burrowed into his side, glancing up and seeing the two of you in the mirror again. You smiled at your reflection and then said to Legolas, "I love you too." 

[echobx]

figure you out part 1 - jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: y/n hasn't seen her friends in quite some time and decides that it's time to pay them a visit, but her best friend JJ Maybank isn't very fond of her

warnings: hurt/comfort, verbal fighting, JJ being a bit of an asshole

word count: 4.3k

author's note: it's very much more hurt than comfort ig. I know I fucked up the southern drawl thing that JJ got going on, but I'm not very knowledgeable in that so don't focus on it too much.

y/n hadn't been that attentive of her friends lately. She had a lot on her plate ever since switching schools, from Kildare High to KCD, and moving out of her family home and into the condo her boyfriend had provided for her after her parents had to move away for work. She hadn't minded it much. She had always been more on her own, had always known how to take care of herself. Growing up on the Southside hadn't been easy, but it had taught her a lot about life, especially to appreciate it when good opportunities were at hand.  So she said yes to the car Travis had gifted her on her 18th birthday. She had said yes to moving into the penthouse apartment with him, although he technically still lived with his parents to keep up the facade. His parents were old school, so she had said yes when he had proposed to her. "It's a good match. You will be taken care of, sweetie," her parents had told her. y/n knew it was the right choice, the smart choice. She would go to college, and then they would get married after. He would take over his parents' company, and she would play the trophy wife, raise the children and look pretty. It wasn't a bad future for someone who came from nothing. 

The only cons to the big plan were her friends. Well, if they would still call her, that was to be questioned. She had only seen them a few times at parties in the last eight months, but she had come to the conclusion that now, as the end of the school year was right around the corner, she should finally pay them a visit again. y/n missed her friends dearly. She missed hanging out, drinking beers and smoking. She missed surfing and falling asleep in the hammocks at the Château afterward.  Before y/n had switched schools, her friends had held a long discussion over the issue. The fear that she would forget them and never look back was great, especially after they had all experienced a similar situation when Kiara had had her "Kook year" like they used to call it. But it hadn't mattered what the Crew had to say, the decision had already been made. Her future was more important, getting off the island had been the only goal for her ever since her first day of High School. She had become valedictorian for this one reason and nothing else.  But the worst part had been that they had all been right about her, about the changes. 

When y/n looked in the mirror that evening, she could barely see her old self anymore. The washed out shirts and cut off jeans she had always worn had been replaced by pretty sundresses and blouses and other fancy Kook clothes. She looked like a Kook, she lived like a Kook, and anyone who didn't know her from childhood on might think she had always been like this.  She had tried to pick something that wasn't too on the nose. A white loose blouse and light blue jeans shorts. Her hair hung over her shoulders in fine beach waves, and for shoes she wore her usual gray low Chuck's.  The whole drive over to the Cut, she was plagued by fears. 'What if they hate me? What if they say I betrayed them?' were just two of the many questions that pondered her mind. 

She parked her car at the Chat. The old, wooden house still looked the same as it had the first time she had laid her eyes on it. It sat rather idyllic at the sound, and the afternoon sun was painting everything in a golden glow.  The HMS Pogue was towed to the pier and the Twinkie parked in her usual spot. y/n thought back to the many adventures she had gone on with her best friends, especially John B and JJ.  "Hey there, old girl," she mumbled and let her hands run over the metal of the little, orange bus.  "She's not that old, you know," John B laughed from behind her, and she snapped around just in time to be embraced in a hug.  "Where were you? Fucking missed you, sharky," he sighed while holding her in his arms.  "Missed you too, bird," y/n laughed, and they broke out of the hug.  "y/n!" Kiara screamed and slammed her surfboard into Pope, who walked next to her, just for her to run into y/n's arms. 

After a warm welcome from all of them, they were sitting on the porch, sharing beers and being happy about the reconnection.  "I know I should have come by sooner, but school is a lot and then my parents moved away. It was so much, and I promised myself to focus on my future. I'm so sorry, guys." y/n apologized for possibly the millionth time since she got there.  "We would never judge you for that," Pope assured her, and she gave him a thankful smile.  "We do judge you though for not texting once, and rather fucking some Kook than coming by to surf or something," JJ sneered as he walked onto the porch.  "Jay," y/n hushed as she looked at him. He was hurt, and he was actively fueling his pain over seeing her again into his rage.  "No, I get it. You're a Kook now. The car, the fancy clothes, living Northside. You've got it all, don't you," he hissed at her.  "It's not that simple," she tried to reason with him, but he didn't even attempt to calm down.  "It's very fucking simple, actually. You're a Kook now. No Kook is a friend of mine. You can go." JJ pointed towards the door, expecting her to get up and leave immediately, but she didn't. "JJ, that's enough," Sarah admonished him.  "She left us, so don't expect me to be so stupid to let her back in just because she is bored or whatever and decided to pay us a visit," JJ yelled, and it was the last thing y/n had needed to break. She had expected him to act this way, he had always been hot-headed, but this was worse than what she had prepared herself for.  She stood up and walked away. "I'm sorry. I should have asked before coming by," she mumbled before leaving towards her car.  "And there she runs again. You don't have to come back again, cheater," JJ called after her as she got in her car and drove away. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you," Kiara screamed at JJ and pushed him so that he stumbled backwards a few steps. "She wanted to come back, and you pushed her away because you can't fathom that life isn't just black and white. Get your head out of the gutter, JJ, she's not the same girl she was when we met her."  "And that's exactly the issue!" He spat out and turned towards John B. "Whatever that was, that's not the same girl we grew up with. She's not our friend anymore!" "Leave! I will not have you call her names and all that crap you are trying to pull right now. Go, and don't come back unless you apologize to her. She had a tough year, and you're just making it worse with your selfish bullshit. Because to me, she is still the girl who kept running into this very door frame because she has shit coordination skills. Maybe you can't see that, but it's true. People don't change that much, not at their core. Leave!" John B stared his best friend down until he angrily ripped the porch door open and left. 

Meanwhile, y/n cried the whole way home. She had wanted to spend the weekend reconnecting with her friends, and not just because her boyfriend and his family were out of town. No, she had wanted to do so for a long time, but she had never gotten the opportunity to. But now this was also ruined. Her best friend had ruined it. At least she had still thought of JJ as her best friend before he had screamed at her. 

JJ Maybank had been y/n's best friend since third grade. John B and JJ had saved her from a bully at recess, and since then the three had been inseparable. They had spent every free minute with each other. Had consoled one another after a heartbreak or after a fight.  JJ had been her first kiss because they had decided to not take any chances with someone who would turn out to be an asshole, at least that had been the reasoning she had used to convince JJ. What she had never known was that Jay had always had a crush on her, just a tiny one, but he was still sure that she was his first love.  He had of course never told her about that, or the fact that his heart broke a bit when she had called him crying after losing her virginity to some guy who had only pretended to like her. He had never mentioned that he had beaten the guy up the day after to teach him a lesson. He had never told her how much she meant to him, not even when it might have been the only thing that could've held her back from switching schools. 

But then again, y/n had never been that truthful either. She hadn't told him that she had always compared every single guy to him, and that none of them ever came close to how he made her feel. That he had always been her safe haven, the only one she trusted blindly, the only one who had never judged her.  Yet he had been the only one to do exactly that as soon as she had come back to her old life. And she hated him for it. They had promised each other to never hurt the other too deeply, but he had done exactly that.  She knew his mannerisms. Knew how he tended to push everyone away, the more damage the better, but she had never thought to be on the receiving end of his rage. The betrayal over the broken promise hurt just as much as the words he had thrown at her that night. 

y/n cried herself to sleep in the empty apartment that had never truly felt like home because nothing in it was like she had wanted it to be. It was white and clean and fancy. Stone and metal where she preferred wood and old shipped away tile because someone had once thrown a plate out of rage.  She missed her actual home, but no matter how much she would have worked, she couldn't afford to rent out the whole house on her small waiter salary. Besides, now that she was engaged and ready to leave for college, she didn’t need the job anymore. She had actually been advised to not keep on working. "It doesn't look good for the family," her boyfriend's parents had persuaded her and as the dutiful girl she was, she followed the orders of her future in-laws. 

On the other side of the island, JJ was driving around on his bike, trying to let go of his rage, but nothing seemed to work. Seeing her had caused him distress. Seeing her had brought back all the feelings that he had pushed down so far that he had forgotten they existed.  The first time he had seen her in the arms of the Kook, he had wanted to rip the guy's head off. He didn't deserve her, JJ was sure of that. But in JJ's eyes no one was truly worthy of her.  He had hoped that she was miserable with him, that once she came back she was crawling, begging for forgiveness, begging to be taken back. But that hadn't been the case. She had proudly presented her new Kook life as if it was the best thing to ever happen to her.  JJ had looked at her, and the y/n he had seen had looked nothing like the one he had fallen in love with years prior. He was ashamed of ever thinking that she might not turn into one of them.  His rage drove him back to his old home, a place that wasn't his home anymore, it hadn't been in a long time.  He had nowhere to go, John B had kicked him out with good reason and none of his friends would help him out, he was sure of that. So the young man drove on and on until he found himself at her old house. It stood empty, no one had wanted to rent it at the high price the owners were asking for. When JJ had heard about y/n's parents leaving, he had assumed her to go with them. And when she had stayed, he had thought she would be allowed to keep living in their house, but even that had not been the case.  Instead, she had moved in with her boyfriend, one of the most annoying Kooks he had ever met. JJ thought it was all a trick, gifting her a car, offering a place to live for free, helping her get into her dream college. The only thing he was sure she had achieved on her own was the scholarship, but now that he thought of it, it all seemed too perfect to not have been meddled with. 

JJ snuck into her old bedroom, the same color on the walls as it had the last time he was there. The old mattress lying on the bed frame he had helped fix many times. The closet they had hidden in the first night JJ had run from home, the closet she had kissed him in for the first time.  He laid down on the bed, like he had done so many times before, just that he was alone now. No one there to help him soothe the pain that he had been holding back ever since she had reappeared in his life. Or was it really a reappearance if you had always looked after her from afar? If you had made sure that nothing bad happened to her? He wasn't quite sure of it, but seeing her smile while talking about her new, pretty and fancy life had hurt him deeply. And pushing her away and hurting her had just done even more damage to himself than he had anticipated at the moment. John B was right, he needed to apologize. And it needed to be a damn good apology at that.

y/n decided to sleep in after that very emotionally turbulent night. Her mind hadn't stopped racing, though. She wanted to go back, to make things right, although it wasn't even her doing. She had tried to reconcile, had tried to get back together with the people she loved most, but he had denied her. 'No, if anything he has to apologize. I won't let him treat me like that, especially him,' she thought while making some breakfast. But her thoughts had occupied her so much that she had burnt her eggs to black goo, and she didn't even have any left to make new ones. So she decided to skip breakfast and go back to bed, turning on the TV in the bedroom. She tried to focus on the movie that was playing in front of her, but she really couldn't. 'Ten things I hate about you?' she thought. "I could give you millions of reasons why I hate him right now," she spoke up without noticing, but then she remembered that she didn't have to stay quiet. She was completely alone, no one to judge her thoughts.  y/n paused the movie and sat up. "I hate that you hurt me. I hate that you think you are better than me just because I had to make decisions that will impact the rest of my life. I hate that you never called, either. I hate that you blame me for everything. I hate you so much, JJ Maybank!" She screamed the last part so loud that she would have nearly overhead the knock on her front door.  It was already noon, and she was still dressed in her sleeping shirt. It was an old one she had once stolen from JJ, a weird coincidence really. 

"Who is there?" y/n asked before deciding whether she should open the door.  "It's me, JJ, please let me in," he begged, but she was reluctant.  "Are you gonna yell at me again?" she asked while unlocking the door.  "No. I came to apologize," he said, and she opened the door for him to walk in. Closing and locking it again as soon as he was inside.  "Better to be safe than sorry," she explained after he gave her a weird look because of her actions.  "Nice place," JJ mumbled while looking around. "That's marble, isn't it?" he asked as his long fingers ran over the kitchen island. His usual shirt and shorts combo was the same as the night before, and y/n immediately knew that John B had taken her side in the whole dilemma. He had kicked him out, and that was the only reason JJ was now standing in her home.  "Yes, it is," y/n answered while crossing her arms in front of her chest.  "Open room concept," he turned around and looked at everything. "I bet the bedroom is back there, just like the bathroom," JJ said while walking into the direction he had just pointed at.  "What are you doing?" y/n asked as she followed him around. She was well aware of the game he was playing. He was trying to find just enough clues to piece her life together; her life without him in it.  "A bathtub and a shower, that's what I call Kooky, cupcake," he noted and winked at her before turning away from the bathroom and towards the bedroom that was lying opposite of it. "That's a good movie." JJ nodded while looking at the TV screen. He jumped on the bed and tested the mattress, pressing himself into the sheets and sighing before getting back up. 

"Travis," he hissed. "He's a real charmer, isn't he," JJ mocked as he walked back over to her, looking into her eyes, but she didn't let him get to her. He didn't deserve to see her falter even a tiny bit.  "You know, I always thought you'd end up with someone who's less of an asshole, actually," he whispered before brushing a strand of hair out of her face.  "I always thought apologies didn't include mocking the recipient or someone who is close to the recipient," she hissed back at him, and he laughed.  "Fuck that, I'm not gonna pretend to like him. I should've at least broken his nose the first time he even looked at you." JJ moved past her and back into the living room.  "Two flat screens? You really are a Kook. Disappointing," he sighed, not even turning around to look at her. He was aware of the fact that he kept on hurting her, but that was part of his plan. Make her see what she actually needs instead of what everyone tells her to want.  His eyes fell on the balcony doors that were covered by big, heavy gray curtains. "Don't," y/n called out as he opened the curtains and then the doors.  "I bet he never even cared to ask, because if he did, he wouldn't have given you the fucking penthouse," he sneered before turning around while staying in between the opened folding doors. "You never told him, did you? How long has it been? Half a year since you got together, and he never even considered asking?"  "I don't like to make a fuss, you know that," she replied with her eyes closed. Even just looking out of the window at this height made her feel sick. "Can you close it again please," she begged and as soon as she heard the curtains close she opened her eyes again. 

"I don't like when you lie to me," JJ whispered after stepping closer again.  "You came to apologize," she reminded him.  "Answer me one question, and I will apologize and leave. You will never have to see me again if you don't want to, but you can't lie to me. You promised to never lie, remember?" He stared into her eyes and she in his. The bright blue that she loved so much, that reminded her of the sky, the sea. It reminded her of freedom and, most of all, of love.  "What do you want to know?" she asked, although she knew it was a bad idea to play his games. Even though they hadn't properly talked in so long, she still knew him best. Other than her, JJ hadn't changed a single bit since she had left. He leaned in closer before leaning to the side and whispering in her ear. "Has he ever made you cum?"  She gasped, not only because his words had shocked her, but because the warmth of his breath against her neck, the closeness of him to her, was completely overwhelming.  He moved away again to fully look at her, his pupils dilated and a smirk on his lips. 

"Why do you want to know that?" she pressed out while trying to not let her desire take control of her body and mind. y/n had always wondered what it would be like to have it all, to fully be his. She had always thought that JJ was the one. That he would be her first in everything, not just the first kiss, but y/n had been wrong. JJ had told her that there could never be anything between them, the rules made sure of that.  "I'm interested, that's all. He doesn't seem like the guy to know his way around a woman." He let his eyes wander over her. Well aware of the fact that the shirt she was wearing had once belonged to him. Maybe it was a sign, he wanted it to be one.  "We haven't-" y/n started to speak, but JJ just interrupted her.  "You're joking right? You have to be joking. Is something wrong with him? How can he wake up and fall asleep next to you every day and not want to fuck you?" He laughed hysterically because in his eyes it was impossible to not cherish her like she deserved it.  "He thinks I'm a virgin. I didn't tell him. And he doesn't sleep here every night," she tried to defend her boyfriend, but there was truly no reason for it other than to spite JJ.  "I see, he's not only boring as fuck but also the dumbest Kook in town," he laughed.  "We agreed to wait until-" She wanted to yell at him, but the words got stuck in her throat. No one knew that they were engaged, no one was supposed to know until the engagement party that was planned to happen a week after graduation.  "You're joking? Nuh-uh, you seriously have to be crazy to do that. You're gonna marry a guy who hasn't even seen you naked? Seen you in your most precious moment?" JJ shook his head in disbelief.  "His parents are very old school. It's a good match. A good and stable future," she argued with him.  "Good and stable can fuck off. You don't even love the guy!" JJ yelled and ran his hands through his hair as he paced the room. He couldn't believe that she was actually planning to destroy her life like that.  "You don't know who I love," y/n whispered. 

"You are so smart, so fucking beautiful and smart, and you want to throw all of that out of the window for the possibility to play housewife for some asshole that will only end up playing golf and fucking girls half his age?" JJ was disappointed in her. He had always thought that they would actually pursue the dreams they had pictured for their lives when they were kids. He had always wanted to run his own charter, or have his own garage, to do something he was good at. And from what it was looking like, he would get to have a similar enough life to what he had dreamed. It wouldn't be his own business, but at least he knew the guy that owned it, and if he did well enough he would maybe get to take over one day.  But y/n? y/n had always dreamed big, and he had never made fun of her for it because he knew she would be able to make it, to achieve anything she set her mind to. "You wanted to do law, remember? You told me you would one day be the youngest supreme court justice ever. That was the big dream, not some sad housewife who hates her life. Please, you can't really mean this, y/n." He was desperate because if she actually had decided to turn her back on the big dream, then there was no turning back. In his eyes, she would be lost if she didn't even consider not going with the plan Travis' parents had laid out for her.  "I know, Jay, but things change. I can't afford to study law." She was close to tears, but she didn't want to break down in front of him.  "I don't believe you. You can't throw it all away, not for someone who you don't even love." He was adamant about it. There was no way in hell or heaven that she was actually in love with the Kook.  "That doesn't matter," she muttered while looking at her feet. His fingers hooked under her chin as he tipped her head back up.  "It matters so much, darling. I won't let you make that mistake, not without giving you an outlook on what could be instead," he hushed before searching her eyes for just a short second. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

pt.2

[loaksky]

— 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴

the lowdown — the one where you’re shy and ao’nung’s got a crush. 

the who — ao’nung x fem metkayina!reader

the word count — 1.1k

the tags & warnings — no warnings! 

the notes — this was a request from this lovely anon. this scenario came to me out of nowhere after trying to grapple with how to start this lmaooo. also wanted to experiment with the list format at the end for the bonus! thank you for your request, i hope you enjoy! :) 

masterlist

Truthfully, you have zero clue how you and Ao’nung had come together. He was the well-loved son of the olo’eyktan and you were just a normal clan member, moving through the motions of life in Awa’atlu. 

All you recall is a blend of memories, distantly. One moment you were sidling on the edge of the village, then the next Ao’nung had his sights on you. 

He hadn’t been too subtle, showing up wherever you’d be, suddenly more accident-prone and stumbling into your family’s tent for treatment, intruding on shared moments with his sister Tsireya. 

As you recall, maybe that’s where it started, when you and Tsireya started hanging out together, giggling and chattering over village gossip while beading simple jewelry for your other friends. 

But what you didn't know was that Ao’nung’s always seen you. It wasn’t until he had finally grown into himself, into his role as the potential future olo’eyktan that he’d gained the courage. 

“You will have to court a woman soon,” Tsireya had told him one night after you had parted ways with the siblings and scurried back to your family’s marui. 

There’d been a minuscule smile playing at Ao’nung’s lips as he watched your retreating figure, graceful and lithe in the eclipsing evening. 

“I know,” he had said. 

Tsireya pinned him with a knowing glance. 

“You have made your decision?” she asked. 

Ao’nung’s smile widened as he slowly nodded his head. 

“Yeah,” he confirms. “It has been made for a while.” 

When it comes, though, his confession dumbfounds you.

He had caught you in a shallow pool a few days after, drawing shapes in the sand as you waited for Tsireya to be finished with her chores in the village. You didn’t know that she was lingering on the outskirts, watching as Ao’nung worked up the courage. 

“________,” he called, a few paces away. 

“Ao’nung.” You stood to your feet quickly and gestured. 

“Are you well?” he'd asked you. 

You glanced up at him with clear blue eyes and a genuine smile. 

“Great,” you had answered. “Are you?” 

His lips twitched, hearting thudding in his chest as he looked down at you. Every single word he had rehearsed with Tsireya over the course of the leading days had left him, leaving him staring down at you, stricken. 

“Ao’nung?” 

“Yeah, fine, good. I’m good.” His face was burning. 

“Well…” you trailed off. “Was there something you needed?” 

“I–” Ao’nung tripped over his words before forcing them out. “I have noticed you for a while.” 

You blinked and he panicked. 

“I like you, ________,” he blurted. 

Your eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape as you stared up at him in disbelief. 

Your silence had triggered his self-preservation. 

“I know we are not close, but I think you are a lovely–”

He hadn’t even finished his thoughts before you were racing away, cheeks indescribably hot at his confession. 

Nothing could have prepared you for Ao’nung’s sudden declaration of admiration. It made your heart swell, your face warm. But most of all it made you so incredibly nervous. 

He had taken it the wrong way at first, a stinging rejection at you fleeing from him. He would scour the village for any signs of you, but like you do best, you had blended too well into the background. 

You didn’t snap out of it until Tsireya had confronted you crossly, the usually sweet and bubbly daughter of the clan leaders obviously miffed by the tension between you and her brother. 

“You are you being silly,” she said, legs draped over the edge of the small row boat you were sitting in, feet circling the water. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, hands coming up to cool your consistently hot cheeks. “It had to be a game he was playing with his friends.” 

Tsireya’s laugh was loud, glittering. 

“If only you knew how long Ao’nung has been pining for you, ________,” she had revealed. 

Your head shot up, searching her eyes for any semblance of dishonesty. 

“He wishes to court you,” Tsireya had revealed. “If you let him.” 

You were still unable to suspend disbelief, frozen in place as your friend stood to her feet to leave you with your thoughts. 

“He’s been gloomy,” Tsireya told you. “Do us all a favor and end this headache?” 

She left you with a knowing smile. 

You had run into Ao’nung later that night, while he was out setting traps for the morning kill. It wasn’t your intention to reunite with him so soon, but something in the way the reefs glowed harder that night gave you the spirit. 

“________,” Ao’nung murmured, swallowing down the lump in his throat at finally seeing you again. 

“Hi,” you whispered, hands clasped behind your back as you stood a great distance away from him. 

“Hi,” he greeted, the last trap still in his hands as he looked down at you. 

“About that day…”

He already knew what day you were talking about, and his fist tightened around the netting, waiting for you to continue with bated breath. 

You took a step closer to him, slowly closing the distance. As you drew nearer, he noticed the tremor in your spindly fingers and dropped the net. 

“I’m sorry I ran off,” you apologized, voice shaky. 

Ao’nung licked his bottom lip, watching you intently. 

“I didn’t know you were serious,” you admitted. “I am nothing extraordinary. I am not used to be noticed.” 

Ao’nung broke into a grin. 

“I have always noticed you,” he’d said, taking a step forward so that you two were toe to toe. 

You were staring up at him and he couldn’t help himself, thumb brushing your cheek. 

“Well– Well, I wanted to say that…” 

“That?” Ao’nung coaxed.

“That I like you, too,” you blurted. 

Almost impossibly, his smile beamed brighter, but you wipe the grin off his face when you shyly push up on your tip toes and press a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“________,” he’d all but gasped, eyes wide. 

And again, you’d run off, heart pounding and face hot. 

BONUS: 

after that night, ao’nung would consistently tease you about how shy you get. 

nine times times out of ten, you guys would meet after eclipse and have night dates because he likes loving up on you and you get so sheepish in front of the others when he does.

during the day, you’d probably wouldn’t be glued to his side, but you’d always be near, and that’s enough for him. 

most people in the village probably don’t even catch on to the fact that the two of you are together until one day ao’nung slips up when you two cross paths and gives you a kiss on your forehead before parting. 

his friends will probably tease him about it, but when he notices that it makes you a little sad, he’s beefing lmaooo. 

all in all, you two are polar opposites, but ao’nung never has to question your feelings for him because you’re his soft and sweet girl who’s clingy and loving when no one else is watching <3

neng © 2023

taglist; @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul , @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot

[the-blue-fairie]

Art by @shes-an-iso – commissioned by me and posted here with permission

Realization.

It is ten years ago and I am watching Frozen.

It is ten years ago and I am watching Elsa transform herself into her truest self, watching her spin threads of blue around herself, seizing power for herself – radical self-actualization.

The glint of Elsa’s ice dress reflects in my eyes as I watch Elsa strut into the sunlight – and I do not have words for why I am so moved.

I do not have words, but the shimmer stays.

It is ten years ago and I am choosing to become a part of the Frozen fandom.

I have lurked in fandom circles before, but never posted a thing, never made an account.

It is my first time being part of an online fan community – and, as awful as fandoms can be at times, this fandom – for me – ten years ago – is truly a community.

I begin to make friends in the Frozen fandom.

Some of these friends are trans.

The gleam of Elsa’s hair in the rose-gold dawn shines again in my eyes, and shyly, I begin asking questions of my friends.

Realization is nothing without the words to process it – and my friends give me words, my friends help me to understand.

I am a trans woman.

It is in this online space that I first take the name Liza for myself, since this online space is the only place that I can allow myself to be.

I build for myself. My blog is my own ice palace. What I cannot sculpt in daily life, I carve within online spaces – offering my writing, my thoughts, my edits, my soul to the world.

Everyone here knows me as Liza.

Even as I’m in the closet to my family for years, in here, I am Liza. My friends know me as I am, and as Liza is all they will ever know me.

But I am in the closet. For years.

(It’s why Do You Want to Build a Snowman still breaks me.)

In the closet more out of some misplaced sense of duty to my family than out of dread, though I am scared. Always scared. And then in the closet because I feel it’s better if I bury this. Not better for me, but for them. If I’m bleeding inside, it doesn’t matter. I can put on a show. I have fine-woven gloves. Well-taught decorum. Be the good girl you always have to be, etc.

(Maybe it’s my fault I’m in the closet for years. Anons on this site have told me that in the past. I don’t have it as bad as others in the closet, I’m just a coward, the fault is mine, the fault is mine…)

Fuck off.

(People blame Elsa for the thirteen years in the same way, placing the blame on her and not the tutelage that trained her, because her parents loved her, you see, and love becomes a convenient means of shifting blame to the victim.)

In June 2016, after the Pulse shooting, I make a post about how I’m never going to come out. I am terrified, heartbroken, mangled by grief – but my friends are there for me. My friends send me messages of support, of compassion.

I still cherish the memory of those.

Years pass. When I finally come out to my father, I can barely say the words, barely look him in the eye.

It is ten years since Frozen and I have come out to my family – far too late. I have been on HRT more than a year now.

(My dad still misgenders me when he thinks I’m out of earshot. He resents when I get frustrated with him over this.)

It is ten years since Frozen and I am Elsa on the North Mountain, staring into the whirlwind of an uncertain future, defiant and scared.

And I know – I know – that I didn’t process I was trans because of the film – it was because of the friendship of fellow trans people, trans people who happened to be Frozen fans a decade ago – but my journey of self-realization, my time in the closet, my creation of a sense of self, are so entwined with memories of Frozen that I can’t help but think of it when thinking about my own transition…

Can’t help but think of Elsa, hips swaying, arms outstretched, flashing, radiant –

Happy tenth anniversary, Frozen.

And thank you. Thank you.

(This is okay to reblog. In fact, please do. It is a sliver of my soul that I offer to the world.)

[sunshinesickies]

Angst takes me a bit longer to write and I also don’t see myself doing much more angst fics in the future, but thank you for the request anon, and I hope you enjoy. Plz ignore the weird timeline crossover, I’m not totally up to date on what Yelena is doing after Hawkeye, but I like to think she’s out helping more widows or something along those lines.

*TW for angst and language

Kate Bishop x Reader sickfic

Burning Jealousy, Burning Fever

Yesterday

“Really, Kate?!” You can’t help but shout, a red hot feeling bubbling in your chest. “Seriously! I’ve barely seen you these past couple weeks, and I’m the one being distant? You keep saying you have work—but which work is it huh? Your actual job or the fantasy one where you run around shooting arrows with your cool new mac-n-cheese-loving blonde girlfriend?” You know you’re probably being unfair, but to be fair, so is Kate. She all but randomly accused you of being distant when that’s literally all she’s done in the past couple weeks.

“S-stop! Y/n you know that’s not true. Yelena is not my girlfriend! She just needs my help, I have a responsibility, I-I really thought you understood that.” Kate dark eyes soften a little as she looks towards the ground, tears burning her eyes. And yeah, yeah that hurts. Because you do understand, just not as much as you’d hope to.

“You already have a responsibility, Kate! To the company, to us.” You want nothing more than all of this to just stop, but you can’t. You can’t stop the burning rage and self doubt in your heart every time Kate runs off to join Yelena to do whatever the fuck they do when you’re not around. And the pounding-the pounding in your head that started a few days ago that just won’t go away. You know it’s clouding your thoughts, you know you’re being selfish. But is it selfish to want the girl you love to come home safe every night? To not have to wonder if she’ll make it home each day? To not have to wonder what she does when she’s off with a friend she never told you existed?

“I know that, y/n! But this is my responsibility too, as someone who can help others, who can make a difference, I can’t just stop being who I am…I….” The raven haired girl loses her train of thought when her phone buzzes in her pocket. She glances at it with a sigh. “I-it’s Yelena, she found the widow, she needs me. I have to go—y/n…I’m sorry.” Her face is full of regret as she looks up at you. Your eyes glaze over as she stands there, waiting for you to say something.

“Well, run along then. At least she understands.” You spit, energy drained as you stand there. Kate grabs her bow with a huff and leaves, moving towards the door without another word. The last thing you see is her glancing over her shoulder to you, an unreadable expression on her face, her eyes shining with unshed tears. The second the door closes you collapse onto the couch, and unable to keep your eyes open, you let them drift close as you think about how you even got into this situation.

Two Weeks Ago

It all started two weeks ago when you walk into Kate’s apartment, take-out for dinner in hand, and get the shit scared out of you when you turn on the light to see an unfamiliar blonde haired woman sitting on the couch, sharpening a knife as calmly as if she were reading a book. She looks up at you, confusion spreading across her face. “You’re not Kate Bishop—I was sure I broke into the right apartment.” She mutters with what sounds like a curse in another language.

“Who the fuck are you?!” You scream, backing into the front door, reaching beside you for anything that could protect you if necessary. “Woah, woah. Chill out not-Kate bishop. I’m not going to hurt you…mhmm…good thing I brought macaroni.” The blonde stands, tucking her knife away and motioning towards the dropped and spilled food by your feet. Your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath, frantic eyes never leaving the strange woman. She puts up her hands to show you they’re empty.

“No need for such dramatics. My name is Yelena and I’m a friend of Kate Bishop’s. Now is she going to be home soon? Should I heat up the oven?” She gestures to the kitchen.

“I—uh I…what?” You breathe, finally calming down a bit as it seems she’s making no sudden moves. It’s then that you notice Lucky had trotted over to the woman, wagging his tail as she bends down to pet him. Your confusion only grows. “What are you doing here? How’d you even—?” You take a few steps forward, taking out your phone to track your girlfriend. A wave of relief washes over you when you see she’s almost home from work.

“As I said, I need Kate Bishop’s help. This is her dog so I know I’m in the right place, well I had no doubts about that…but you I didn’t anticipate. Who are you?” Yelena asks and you keep talking, stalling for time until Kate arrives. “I’m y/n, I live here. Kate’s my girlfriend?” You raise your eyebrows expecting to get some sort of realization out of the blonde. She only frowns.

“Bishop never mentioned she was dating someone.” She looks somewhat betrayed as if she should have been kept in the loop. Just then you heard the click of the lock and you finally breathe normally as you watch Kate enter the apartment. She freezes, her mouth gaping as she takes in the scene before her.

“Ah there she is! Finally, Kate Bishop—hey how come you never told me about the lovely y/n here?” Yelena motions to you and you move to stand by Kate’s side. “Baby, what the hell is going on?” You whisper in her ear and she looks to you, an apologetic look in her eyes. “Um—y/n meet Yelena, Yelena, this is y/n.”

So yeah. That’s how you met the deadly assassin that happens to be your girlfriend’s friend. And that’s how this whole mess started.

One Week Ago

After the night you met Yelena, you quickly find out how much she likes to stick around, and how much she loves mac and cheese. You try your best to be polite, to enjoy the company of Kate’s friend, but its a little hard when every interaction between them feels like flirting and she keeps whisking Kate off to go on a “mission” or “stake out”, or whatever excuse she can come up with to leave you out of it. Yelena seems nice, she really does. But you can’t help but feel that she’s a little too nice, and a little too comfortable around your girlfriend. Not to mention the fact that Kate never once told you about her yet now acts like they’ve known each other forever.

“Kate, how long is Yelena staying for?” You whisper to your girlfriend as the two of you cuddle in bed. The blonde in mention is currently downstairs, asleep on your couch. She’d been crashing at Kate’s apartment for almost a week now, coming and going at weird hours, almost never using the door, usually the window, and often taking Kate with her. “I don’t know. I guess until she finds all the widows in New York.” Kate mumbles into your shoulder, half asleep. You sigh, closing your eyes and letting the sound of her soft snores lull you to sleep.

Last Night

Almost another week passes and Yelena still hasn’t left. With your irritation only growing, you find it harder and harder to keep your cool around the assassin as she traipses around your apartment like she owns the place, eating mac and cheese and watching movies with your girlfriend, making her laugh and doing the dishes.

Work has been exhausting since you’ve been picking up Kate’s slack at the company that you work at, the one she owns. And you guess everything just hit its limit because this morning you’d woken up with an annoying scratch in your throat and a throbbing in your sinuses.

Currently you’re laying on the couch, the oncoming cold and exhaustion from the day making your eyelids droopy as you enjoy one of the few moments of peace you’ve had in the past couple weeks. Yelena is out doing god knows what and you’re laying in Kate’s arms as the two of you watch a movie. You sniffle softly, attempting to keep your slightly runny nose at bay. You can feel a steady warmth growing in your body, one that makes you feel cold even though you’re cuddled up to your girlfriend and under a cozy blanket.

“Hey.” Kate murmurs into your hair and you hum, glancing up at her, the blue light from the tv casting a soft glow on her face. “You okay, love? You seem off tonight.” She states, a small worried crease in her brows. You try your best to give her a convincing smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine Katie, jus’ tired. Long day.” You hum back. You’re mulling over the idea of just telling her you’re sick, then maybe she would focus on you for a while, make you feel loved and cared for like she did before Yelena came to town and distracted her.

Kate can tell you aren’t being fully honest and opens her mouth to say something else but a soft buzz from her phone on the coffee table pulls her attention away. She looks at the text. You can tell its from Yelena by the way her brows furrow and her jaw sets in that stubborn, determined look you usually find endearing. You sigh.

“It’s Lena, she’s close to finding the last widow. She might need me.” She mutters to you, avoiding your eyes because she knows she she’ll only feel guilty from the expression on her face. She knows she hasn’t been fair to you these past couples weeks. But she has a job, a responsibility, and her friend needs her. She’s helping to make a difference, to save lives. She’ll make it up to you, she will.

You pull away from her warm arms, standing up, head pounding at the sudden movement. “Woah babe…” Kate stands up too. “Where are you going? What about the movie?” She calls as you start to make your way to the stairs. You turn back to face her. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” You state simply, maybe a little too harshly judging by the way Kate looks hurt and confused by your words. You turn once more to the stairs.

“Ugh why are you being so—so….distant lately?” Kate bites back, and that’s it. You storm back over to her. “Really, Kate?!”

And…yeah, that’s how you ended up fighting with Kate at 11pm while sporting a very untimely fever—one which the archer doesn’t known about since she hasn’t been around enough to know you’re feeling under the weather.

Today

You don’t know how long you’re passed out for, but when you come to, the apartment is flooded with sunlight. Kate’s coat and bow are still gone so you know she didn’t come back last night. Guilt bubbles in your chest when you think about what happened. You really didn’t want to fight with her, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.

You try to move but find your limbs feel like jelly. The light from outside amplifies your headache and you can feel your hair and clothes slightly damp with sweat from your fever. You want to call Kate. To tell her you’re sorry, that you love her, that you need her now. You blink, not sure where your phone is and not having the energy to find it. You hear a distant whine and faintly resister Lucky licking your hand. You muffle a painful cough into the pillow below your cheek and you can’t resist when your eyes drift close once more.

When Kate finally comes home that afternoon, her heart drops the second she sees you sprawled out on the couch. Even from across the room she can see the thick layer of sweat coating your hairline and your ragged, uneven breathing. Her eyes widen and she curses under her breath as she rushes over to you. Her worry only amplifies when she sees you up close.

“Y/n? Baby, can you hear me?” She places a hand to the side of your cheek and feels the strong heat radiating off you. She can’t believe this. She can’t believe that she didn’t know you were getting sick, or that your fight could have been induced by the fever, or the fact that you needed her and she left you for almost a whole day like this. The archer feels as though she could throw up just thinking about how awful you must’ve felt. All her anger and frustration from last night fades as she focuses solely on you.

“Please, baby, wake up, y/n?” She shakes your shoulder a bit and lets out a sigh of relief when you groan and shift a little. “K-Katie?” You slur, eyes still shut as you try reaching out your arm to find the source of the familiar voice. “Yeah, yes, baby. It’s me, I’m here.” Kate grabs tight onto your hand and squeezes it gently.

You slowly open your eyes to see the blurry form of your girlfriend crouch in front of you. You lose sight of her as tears start forming in your eyes. “M’sorry.” You whimper, and you can feel her soft thumbs start to brush away your tears.

“It’s okay, my love. It’s okay. I’m sorry too. For more than last night. For everything. For being distant, for not realizing you got sick for…” She starts to ramble as tears form in her own eyes.

“Iss okay.” You mumble. “You’re here now.” You offer what you can in the form of a slight smile. You can’t think straight right now, you’re not even entirely sure Kate is actually here and not just some fever induced dream. But whether it’s real or not, for the first time in a while, with her hand gripping your’s, you feel calm, comforted, seen.

Kate blinks the tears out of her eyes as yours drift closed again. Biting her lip, she pulls away but you don’t even notice, so lost in your haze. She returns a moment later with a cool damp cloth, a glass of water, and a fever reducing pill. She slips onto the couch, carefully maneuvering you so she’s holding your slumped form in her arms.

“Here, take this baby.” She holds the pill and water up to your lips and they part briefly, enough for her to get you to swallow. “You’re okay, love. It’s all going to be okay now.” She hums in your ear along with other sweet assurances as she holds your shivering form tight.

After a while of silence, you come to again, still only half awake but you can now feel Kate’s soothing presence as she holds you and something miraculously cool is resting on your forehead. “I-I’m sorry, Katie.” You mumble and you can feel her fingers running through your hair. “I trust you, a-and I understand. Really I do…I was just…” You add though your words are a slur of mumbles. Kate kisses your head. “Shhh, It’s okay y/n. I know, I know. Just sleep now. We’ll talk when you’re better.” Kate hums back and you let out a deep sigh.

“I love you.” You hear Kate whisper in your ear as you drift back off to sleep. And finally, you feel at peace, knowing her words are true. You love her too, but you can’t seem to get your lips to form the words. So instead, so settle for knowing that once you’re better, the two of you will be able to explain everything to each other, be completely honest, and to get through this. For now, you’re happy without needing to say anything at all. She’s here. And that’s all that matters.

[frie-ice]

Hear me out before you start to throw stones, but with the past events in the Rise of Red having the Queen of Hearts and Cinderella as friends, there is a chance that the film might get people to ship Bridget and Ella. I'm just saying it now to get it out in the open, as well as having "Bridgella" as a place holder when coming up with a ship title. People have already considered shipping their daughters together. Along with comparing Bridget and Ella with Sophie and Agatha from The School for Good and Evil.

There are theories that Bridget's path to villainy started after something got her and Ella to end their friendship. I wouldn't put it past Uliana for breaking up their friendships for kicks. If you remember, Ella looked like she wanted to get back at Uliana for bullying her friend. So that is one possibly, with the trailer subjecting that Uliana is the reason Bridget goes bad, but there might be more to the story. Like Ella's step family possibly destroying her friendship with the Wonderland princess, we all saw how they reacted to her catching the eye of a prince. Who's to say that they didn't want to prevent Bridget coming to her friend's aid, like taking her away from her cruel step family and giving her better life in Wonderland.

Descendants has a similar theme to Ever After High, subjecting that some point during their time at Merlin Academy the two are told what their future paths are. Ella is to be a heroin known as Cinderella and Bridget is fated to be the villain who goes by the Queen of Hearts. If you recall how quick the Fairy Godmother was to say "No" when Uma mentions Wonderland, it subjects that she might know what happened between them. With Fairy Godmother's teenage self, Fay, also being a student at MA, and how both she and Ella were destined to be part of the same story. Even those who are seen as a good have done something bad in their past, like Fay possibly worrying or was told that Ella's friendship with Bridget might have led Ella a stray and prevent Fay from fulfilling in her future role.

But those are just my theories, as we have to wait for the film to come out to get our answers. Please be kind to this collage and ship, if you have nothing nice to say about it keep it you yourselves. After all, I have seen people ship Maleficent with Cinderella and Belle.

[moviecritc]

✦ ˚ : · LONG HUGS ⋆ PATO O'WARD 🦢

pairing ☆ pato o'ward x fem! bff! reader

summary ☆ where pato and you've been bestfriends for a little too long

warnings ☆ cheating (not from pato)

masterlist | letterboxd

❛ stop checkin' your mailbox for confessions of love ❜

Y/N had lost count of how many dates she and Pato had been on. Although they weren't dates; neither had ever said to the other, "this is a date." They just met as friends to watch the sunset on the beach while eating pizza or to gaze at the stars in Pato's convertible or countless other get-togethers that always had a romantic tone, but never quite enough.

Y/N met Pato thanks to her sister; Y/N worked at a publishing house and was the one who edited and supported Elba's book project. Soon, they became friends, and Elba's starter pack included him.

Pato and she had been friends for two years, and they had been in love with each other for two years. It was almost love at first sight, although neither of them knew it yet.

In Pato's mind, Y/N only saw him as a friend, someone to have a good time with and laugh a lot, but nothing more. From Y/N's point of view, Pato was the most incredible person in the world, and she couldn't wait to confess her feelings.

At some point, Pato didn't see himself as enough for Y/N; she had a stable job, an amazing apartment, and a future that was not at all uncertain. While he was going from hotel room to hotel room and could be out of work at any moment. He saw himself as chaos for Y/N, almost like a problem.

That feeling worsened when, after returning from a race, they missed their flight, causing Y/N to almost get fired.

"Y/N, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll talk to your publishing house, I'll tell them it was all my fault. Forgive me,"

Y/N couldn't believe how much Pato cared about her. She simply smiled at him and grabbed his hands, giving them both chills.

"It's okay, Pato. You don't have to talk to anyone, really. It's all fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely sure."

"You're not mad at me?" Pato was looking at her with the biggest puppy dog eyes imaginable.

"How could I be mad at you, silly."

Y/N let out a light laugh before hugging Pato as they waited for the next plane.

(...)

The race celebrations were the worst; hugs, kisses, touches… But everything was justified by euphoria. Y/N thought that his hugs were longer and more heartfelt than the ones he gave to others, but at the same time convinced herself that she was being delusional. Pato prolonged his hugs as much as possible to remember her when he went back home.

She had been the one by Pato's side during the Indianapolis 500.

“You go,” Elba had told her, leaving her speechless. “He needs you.”

Even now, she kept thinking about that phrase. Pato needed her. The idea of being so important to him caused all sorts of feelings. He was totally devastated, and when he saw Y/N, the sparkle in his eyes was instant. She hugged him and reassured him that there would be many more opportunities to win and that he had done an amazing race. They gathered enough courage and self-esteem to show up at the gala after the race.

It was no secret that the fans were crazy about them and that no one believed they were just friends. It was obvious for everyone except to them.

In the end, that day wasn’t so horrible for Pato, but only because Y/N was by his side.

(...)

The moment when Pato gathered enough courage to confess his feelings to Y/N was terrible. They had arranged to have dinner with their group of friends, and Pato was determined to confess to Y/N. He had spent the entire afternoon preparing his speech with his sister so he wouldn’t mess it up and was anxious for the moment to come.

But all his excitement dissipated when he saw Y/N enter with a man on her arm and introduce him to everyone as her boyfriend, Matt. She seemed to be incredibly happy with him, spending the entire dinner talking about how they had met and how amazing he was and how well he treated her. Pato gradually withdrew from the conversation, under the sympathetic gaze of his sister.

“I’m going outside to get some air,” Pato announced and waited a few moments for Y/N to make the slightest movement towards him, but she didn’t even look at him. She was distracted, laughing at one of Matt’s jokes.

“I’ll go with you,” said Elba, noticing Pato’s discomfort. Again, Y/N didn’t react.

They went outside, and Pato ran his hands over his face and hair, frustrated by it all. “I’m an idiot,” he said, with a saddened and angry expression. “I knew that sooner or later someone would beat me to it, but I didn’t think it would be right now.”

Elba pressed her lips together and put a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “I know. I had no idea she was seeing someone either. I always thought she would wait for you to make a move.”

Pato sighed. This was his fault, after all. He had taken too long to show romantic interest in her, so much so that Y/N hadn’t even noticed.

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

“No,” Pato’s response was immediate. “No, no, no. She seems happy,” he turned his head a little, seeing her through the glass with Matt’s arm around her shoulders. “If she’s happy, I’m happy.”

Elba knew he was lying; she could see it in the bittersweet expression on his face. And it was true, he was lying. If it were up to him, he would get rid of Matt right then and there and kiss her in front of all their friends.

(...)

His sister didn't listen to him and talked to Y/N anyway. They were at the former's house, preparing dinner for a movie night with Norbi when Elba brought up the topic.

“How are things with you and Matt?” she asked, while taking iced tea out of the fridge.

She noticed that as soon as she asked, Y/N broke into a wide smile. “Very well, he's on a business trip. But we're great.”

Elba also smiled, trying to conceal her true intentions a bit. “I'm glad to hear that.” She paused briefly, searching for the right words. “You know, I always thought there might be something between you and my brother.”

Y/N stopped what she was doing for a moment, as if recalling a past life. She couldn't find a way to respond to that without it sounding strange or suspicious, and by that point, Elba's comment had lingered in the air for too long.

“Oh really?” she simply said.

“Yes, I guess you two had that connection.”

“That connection.”

She repeated that phrase to herself many times over the next few days, pondering and questioning whether she and Matt had the same connection she had with Pato.

(...)

Elba's words lingered in Y/N's mind, but life went on as usual. That was until one fateful night when everything came crashing down.

Y/N sat on her couch, a half-empty bottle of wine next to her, and her eyes red from crying. Her phone, clutched tightly in her hand, showed the last message from Matt: “I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

She dialed a number she knew by heart. The phone rang, and Pato’s groggy voice answered. “Hello?”

“Pato,” Y/N slurred, her voice thick with tears and alcohol. “Can you come get me?”

Pato, instantly awake, sat up in bed. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I need you.”

Without another word, Pato was out of bed, pulling on his clothes. He glanced at his suitcases for tomorrows flight, but Y/N needed him now. Racing could wait.

He found her sitting on the front steps of her apartment building, shivering in the cool night air. Her eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and despair when she saw him.

“Y/N,” he said softly, crouching down beside her. “What happened?”

She fell into his arms, sobbing. “Matt… he cheated on me. I saw him kissing with some woman.”

Pato’s heart ached as he held her close. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You don’t deserve that.” He could feel the shivers in Y/N's body and how fast her heart was beating.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “I feel so stupid, Pato. I thought he loved me.”

“He’s an idiot,” Pato said firmly, lifting her chin. “Anyone who can’t see how amazing you are is a fool.”

She laughed bitterly. “You’ve always been too good to me, Pato.”

Pato helped her to her feet and guided her to his car. Once they were settled inside, she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “You know, I always thought there was something between us.”

Pato’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What do you mean?”

She turned to him, her eyes filled with a vulnerability he’d never seen before. “I’ve had feelings for you for so long, Pato. I just… I was too scared to say anything.”

Pato’s heart pounded in his chest. “Y/N…”

“I thought maybe you felt the same way,” she continued, her voice cracking. “But then I met Matt, and I tried to move on.”

Pato pulled the car over to the side of the road, unable to keep driving. He turned to her, his eyes searching hers. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since forever. I was just too afraid to mess things up between us.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You…you love me?”

He nodded, reaching out to take her hand. “I do. I always have.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, and she leaned in, her lips brushing against his. “I love you too, Pato.”

Their kiss was soft and tentative at first, but quickly deepened, years of unspoken feelings pouring out. When they finally pulled away, they rested their foreheads together, both breathing heavily.

“I know you have a race tomorrow,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with guilt.

Pato smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Nothing is more important than you, Y/N. Not even racing.”

She smiled, a real smile this time, and snuggled closer to him. “Thank you, Pato. For everything.”

He kissed her forehead, holding her close.

☆ request by: anon

can i pls request pato o’ward and reader liking each other a lot but for one reason or another they can’t be together? you can choose the reason why they’re not together, just a lot of pining and star-crossed lovers vibes <3

a/n: i hope this is what you wanted <3 maybe it's a bit messy but i wrote this at midnight so don't expect too much

[apassingbird]

YEAH yeah exactly. he's emotionally checked out, but that's clearly been the case for pretty much the entire relationship (do they ever talk? do they do ANYTHING together other than fuck? because everything pretty much immediately disintegrated when that stopped being an option). but he's still chosen to stay in the relationship and try to force it to work. and he did that specifically after buck came out to him (after he found out that buck and tommy weren't 'single and hanging out with the boys', that they were on a DATE, the framing of that is still so wild to me).

so like, the cheating isn't really coming out of nowhere, and also isn't really about marisol because NOTHING about this relationship has actually been about marisol as a person. it's about eddie and his self-destructive impulse to ignore what he wants and retreat into something 'safe' (and what could be safer that being in love with a dead woman? after all, if she's gone, he doesn't have to contend with all the ways their marriage didn't work, or why that was)

yep this is exactly it! the way we don't know anything about marisol because eddie never talks about her (aside from her being christopher's baby sitter) because he hasn't really made any effort whatsoever to actually genuinely getting to know her. i think he wanted to want to date her at the beginning because he still feels like that's the right thing to do, you know. but it's so incredibly clear that it's not what he wants, at all. and yet he doubles down on it after buck comes out, but the moment he sees kim he checks out for good. because even though he told buck that nothing had changed between them it so very clearly did (he still loves and supports him and want nothing but the best for him, but he also loves him and he feels as if he just lost him too) and eddie deals with it by firmly putting it in that box and locking it away and, like you said, returning to something that's safe and familiar. something that can't hurt him because it's not even there anymore. he's chasing a past he only remembers as good and a future he's made up in his head and it will, eventually, come right back and bite him in the ass. i think he knows that too, but i also think that right now, he couldn't care less.

[oops-it-happened-again]

The Pretty Prince - Chapter 1

From the start, I want to specify that I'm not looking for hostile discourse about camps and who's right and wrong. Please, do not come to me seeking to fight.

If this is not your vision, that's okay. Please don't come for me!

Ellyn Baratheon lives a life in the shadows in her father's keeping. Until the day she and her sisters are told that they might soon be married to the King's brother. Dreading an uncertain future where all their secrets may come to light, she takes a reckless decision.

Words: 3k

Pairing: Aemond x Ellyn Baratheon (textual ghost)

Warnings: abuse, neglect, insecurity, arranged marriage, mention of brothel, mention of disfigurement, insults, slightly Aemond-apologetic, Aemond is a sad boy

Aemond kept as still as he could while the Lord of Storm’s End went through the usual motions of displaying his power and influence with despicable self-importance.

He’d expected as much, but it made him slightly uneasy, nevertheless, to feel the eyes of so many courtiers and counsellors following his every minute movement.

What were they thinking? Were they in awe or wickedly amused by his presumption?

His mother had been very clear in her instructions—he was to cement his brother’s claim to the throne by offering his hand in marriage to bind Borros Baratheon to their cause.

“At least there are two of them,” Alicent had sighed when she’d looked at her unfortunate son with quiet discouragement. “It’s your name—our name—you’ll be selling. Let’s hope that is convincing enough.”

As he now weathered the insidious tempest of disobliging whispering, Aemond sank deeper into his immobility for fear that even the minutest flinch would give away his thoughts.

Neither his mother nor his grandsire or brother had considered, even for a minute, that a maiden might want to wed him.

He was the king’s son, the king’s brother, and those fraying links of blood and loyalty were all he had to show in his favour.

As he stood, tall and cold as a statue, in the draughty hall, Aemond couldn’t shake the memory of the subdued despair painting his relatives’ faces a ghostly white—things were dire, he’d been told, and they had to make bold strokes.

Daeron, of course, was too young and outside the reach of their mother’s grasp, so she’d seen herself compelled to offer what she clearly thought of as “damaged goods” in hopes that the wave of good fortune and pure luck that had carried their House thus far would overwhelm others into complying.

Once upon a time, Aemond knew, a young Alicent had herself made her fortune by being sweet and comely, thus catching the eye and affection of a widowed king, but he could boast neither one of these favours.

Lord Borros grunted loudly, and Aemond had to suppress a shiver of apprehension. What if this formidable ally would deny his brother’s request for fealty on account of the prospective groom’s shortcomings?

He couldn’t bear imagining the look of utter revulsion on his mother’s face if he came back without having secured an advantageous match—thus, he clenched his jaw and waited.

All the knowledge and skill he’d acquired over the years meant nothing in this arena, and Aemond dreaded the arrival of the daughters of the house.

He knew for a fact that they’d been summoned, but the hall remained eerily empty. Their potentially wilful tardiness annoyed him because his stomach was churning with tension as he was reminded of the countless times he’d been deliberately snubbed and excluded before.

“I don’t have all day,” he hissed, earning but a tired look from the resident Lord.

“They’ll be here soon enough, and then you can have your pick,” Baratheon drawled, leaning back in his chair in an explicit show of disinterested superiority.

Aemond found that he was relieved to see that his negotiation partner seemed disinclined to maudlin preoccupation—this would be vital if the girls outright refused to do as they were told.

The scene taking shape in his head—a sweet-looking, dark-haired girl clutching at her father’s legs while begging him not to condemn her to such a terrible fate—made his mouth curl into a sour sneer.

“Ah, here they come now. My Prince—meet my daughters.”

“Come on, Ellyn,” Cassandra hissed as she burst into her sister’s room like an autumn storm unleashed. “The King’s brother is here—he’s agreed to wed one of us.”

Laying her book aside with a guilty flinch, Ellyn stood and patted her hair nervously.

“Remember!” Cassandra said urgently to which the other merely nodded. “Leave it to me!”

Ellyn Baratheon was almost two and twenty years of age, but her father—guided by his meddling council—had long since decided that he would pass her off as his third-born daughter instead, which was easily done as she was small of stature and soft-featured.

Cassandra, of course, was so much like him that she was the perfect choice for a provisional heir while he prayed for a son nightly.

Tall and stern, Maris was by far the smartest of the gaggle of daughters, and Ellyn had readily agreed not to stand in the way of her bright sister’s promising future.

Thus, she’d taken her place on the third rung—a future consolation prize for a minor lord or ally at best, and a contented spinster at worst.

She was not overly worried about Floris, their youngest, either for she was already beautiful and would most probably catch the eye and heart of any Lord she fancied without too much trouble.

“I thought the King’s brother was presently betrothed?” Ellyn whispered urgently as she was ushered into the tenebrous throne room.

“The new King,” Maris, who kept herself informed about the events and developments of the realm, replied haughtily. “Now be quiet and look pretty.”

Ellyn only managed to keep herself from rolling her eyes because her father’s imperious gaze settled on her at that very moment.

“My daughters,” he thundered and waved towards the row of young, nubile ladies expressively.

“Go then,” Maris said without moving her lips all too much and gave Cassandra a little nudge. “You wanted to be the oldest and the heir—go entertain our esteemed guest.”

“Oh, he’s disfigured,” Cassandra mumbled as she pretended to fuss with Maris’s collar. “Do I really have to?”

Ellyn meanwhile was spellbound by the apparition in black leather, shifting his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably as he waited for either one of them to go talk to him.

He was prodigiously tall and stood very upright as if aggressively demanding to be acknowledged by the milling courtiers and her wilfully dispassionate father.

From this distance, Ellyn couldn’t make out every subtlety of his features, but his overall demeanour was self-possessed and dignified enough to make her spine tingle.

“You can be your nasty self and make sure he won’t choose you,” Maris grinned and slouched. She’d been told many a time that she was the least comely of the bunch, and she evidently planned on taking advantage of that unfortunate shortcoming to avoid a less-than-alluring fate.

“He looks funny,” Floris whispered, tugging at Ellyn’s sleeve. Being barely more than a child, she couldn’t yet fully understand the intricacies of court life and its intrigues—to her, Ellyn was her oldest, most reliable sister, and she turned to her in her confusion.

“Hush, little one,” Ellyn cautioned. “He might well become a very important man soon. Just hold on to your doll and think of pleasant things.”

Not her, Ellyn prayed, not the baby. Floris was too young to be carried away to King’s Landing where she would be without her friends and family.

Let it be one of us, one who can defend herself and cry noiselessly. Please, Gods, spare the child—she wouldn’t know how to be a bride.

Despite her glacial pace, Cassandra had now reached their guest and was making conversation when, suddenly, the door opened anew, and the Queen’s young son was announced.

Aemond fought the instinctive impulse to avert his face from the cool gaze of the tall, self-possessed maiden walking towards him with grim determination.

“My Prince,” she greeted without an ounce of virginal shyness or understandable fear. “I trust you’ve had a pleasant trip.”

Oh, he thought, she’d been taught how to behave in such a situation and taught well at that. From her calm demeanour and steady gaze, he could deduce that she’d entertained and humoured more than one unwelcome guest of her father’s in her short life.

Despite his better knowledge, he wished that she’d show any kind of candid emotion other than steadfast dutifulness. Even horror would have been better than cold indifference.

Along the back wall stood three other girls, trying hard to dissimulate their hushed conversation by hiding their mouths behind slender hands.

“Your sisters won’t join us?” he asked, aghast at how tense and breathless his voice sounded.

Cassandra Baratheon—oldest daughter and heir apparent—cocked one eyebrow impatiently as she took a nimble step to bar his view on her siblings.

“You shall have the opportunity to meet each of them in turn if that is your desire,” she replied in the bored tone of a tired shopkeeper.

Different answers, unduly angry and even bordering on despicably petulant, rose to Aemond’s pinched lips and died unspoken in the damp air between them.

The girl lifted her head defiantly, her eyes narrowing as she stared at him as one gazed into an abyss just before taking a leap of faith.

“I take it you’d join your wife in Storm’s End?” she then said as he merely returned her icy look unflinchingly.

That reflection surprised and startled Aemond. “No,” he answered slowly.

“Well, as long as my father has no son, I’m bound to this place,” she shrugged.

For the first time since stepping out of the shadow of the hallway leading to their private rooms, Aemond saw her eyes light up with what he now recognised as insultingly earnest relief.

"What about your sisters?” he inquired, holding back his temper. The agony of being unwanted and unwelcome yet again thrashed like a wild beast within his chest, but he couldn’t let his undeniable faults ruin this tremendous chance for his House.

“Floris is too young to be taken away,” Cassandra replied sharply. “And Maris would probably nag you into taking her to Old Town to your mother’s kin.”

Mentally, Aemond weighed every piece of information carefully. There was a fourth daughter, he knew, but the young lady seemed unwilling to bring her up.

From where he stood, he could see her, bent over the youngest of the brood admonishingly. He couldn’t see her face very well, but she seemed comely enough, and the little girl’s expression was full of trust and love as she looked up at her older sister.

Cassandra followed his gaze and stiffened. “Ellyn,” she said in an unfathomably vague tone. “Who knows what she’d want—she’s a dreamer.”

Pulling himself back to the conversation at hand, Aemond snuffed out the spark of torturous envy that had been ignited in his heart at the sight of Ellyn’s small, pale hand smoothing down the youngest daughter’s braids soothingly.

Even after all these years, he still wished that things had been different between him and Aegon at times.

“I’d speak—”

He never got to finish his sentence as Lucerys was announced at that very moment.

An eternity of hurt and compounded slights came tumbling down to bury Aemond under his own folly.

In the end, he had to return to King’s Landing not only without the bride he’d sworn to secure but also with the terrible news that the first fell stroke of the looming war had been dealt by his very hand.

His mother only looked at him, eyes empty and lips pinched, before sweeping out of the room in disgust.

Later, Ellyn would hardly remember all the minute shifts in tone and demeanour that had led to the monumental tragedy of Prince Lucerys’s death, but the voice—raw, angry, and shockingly pained—of that looming, white-haired intruder stayed with her through many a night.

“Father will let him have one of us, nevertheless,” Cassandra prophesied as they sat around a blazing fire, Floris asleep on a nest of pillows at their feet. “He found Maris unprepossessing, and I must admit that he’s not what I’d hoped for either.”

When both her sisters turned to her, Ellyn drew her shoulders up as if to protect that spark of undue curiosity she’d buried deep within herself.

“He sounds…wounded,” she said cautiously.

“You don’t say? Were you so distracted by your romantic novels that you failed to notice the glaring lack of an eye?” Maris mocked. “What kind of man plans to present his mother with such a gruesome offering? He was outright frightening, no?”

Her tone was hard and unforgiving, and Ellyn frowned at the sight of the bitterness overtaking her plain features.

“One who wants to impress her?” she offered. “He’s well-grown and looks healthy. And he’s well-spoken.”

“If you disregard the unequivocal blemish and the fact that he’s a murderer,” Maris interjected coolly.

“Of course,” Ellyn sighed, feeling chastised once again. Her heart was too soft, and her mind too inclined to lose itself in fantastic stories to be relied upon to say the right thing at the right time.

“He has a face like a crescent moon,” Floris, who’d of course woken up at the worst possible moment mumbled.

“He looks dull,” Maris added pitilessly.

“He kind of is,” Cassandra agreed. “He’s just not…impressive enough. All those black clothes and the petulant expression—I’d rather hoped to marry someone more grandiose if you know what I mean?”

“You’re being ungenerous,” Ellyn interrupted their flood of mean words. “I thought him a fine-looking young man.”

“Well, then you can marry him for all I care,” Cassandra scoffed and breezed out of the room in a fit of unjust vexation.

As she lifted Floris into her arms to carry her to bed, Maris gave her sister a hard but not unkind stare. “Be happy that father demoted you—you clearly have much to learn still about the ways of the world and…men,” she said and left Ellyn alone, staring at the flames wistfully.

Even after she’d gone to bed, her sisters’ words haunted her. Displaced as she was, she loved them and wished to spare them any harm or pain.

In the eyes of the world, she might have been a lesser, younger daughter, but—in her heart of hearts—she knew what was expected of her.

Thus, she made a hare-brained, daring plan. Taking advantage of the fact that she’d grown almost invisible to those around her as war loomed on the horizon, she prepared for days before slipping out of her father’s castle under the cover of night.

To ensure that her disappearance would stay undiscovered for as long as possible, she didn’t take any of the guards or soldiers but fled with only her personal maid towards King’s Landing.

As soon as she’d made landfall, she hurried up a busy street and stopped at a vendor’s stall.

“I’m looking for the prince,” she whispered, jingling a few coins in her palm to signify that any information would be rewarded well.

“Which one?” the crone asked in a bored tone as she kept chewing on something soft and wet.

“The pretty one?” Ellyn said, afraid to speak his name where so many could overhear.

“He’s the King now,” the other laughed.

“No…the other one,” Ellyn sighed. “I mean him no harm—I—” She stopped herself before she could give away her identity inadvertently.

“Listen, lass, a pretty young thing like you should not go looking for Aemond One-Eye—he’s dangerous.” The woman spat into a street corner with admirable precision and then turned back to Ellyn. “Take it from me, dearie, you don’t want anything to do with him.”

I might not have a choice, Ellyn thought as her heart sank.

“I thank you, good woman,” she replied politely. “Where can I find out more? I’d like to know what kind of man he is.”

“Why?” The beady eyes of the old vendor now inspected her shrewdly, drinking in her dark, curly hair and her gentle, black eyes. “You’re not from here, are you?”

Knowing that she couldn’t very well tell this stranger that she wanted to protect her family and, if necessary, warn her sisters, Ellyn nodded wordlessly.

“I’ve seen him when he flew around the kingdom in the name of his brother…and I found him very intriguing,” she then breathed cautiously, hoping that her tone and wavering smile would give the impression of a puerile infatuation rather than of a deadly serious scouting mission.

“You’re as mad as he is,” the crone cackled. “Either way, ask around in the pillow houses and taverns—not that you’d find him there, but there might be people who know him better than I do, Gods be thanked.”

Bowing low, Ellyn dropped the coins into the gnarled hand that was extended towards her demandingly.

“Not promising,” Hala, her faithful maid and friend, who’d been standing just behind her throughout that whole conversation, whispered as they made their way into the bowels of the bright, sunny city. “What’s your plan?”

Just ahead, Ellyn saw the oddly familiar silhouette of a tall man walking stiff-backed towards an establishment of ill-repute, so she quickened her pace.

“Milady?” Hala called with mounting alarm.

Ideas and thoughts were considered and discarded at a pace that would have rivalled even Maris’s quick wit as they pushed their way through the throng of unwashed paupers and ruthless thieves.

Her father’s hall had been gloomy and ill-lit, and the Prince had certainly had other considerations on his mind than the seemingly innumerable daughters of a sour-tempered Lord—consequently, it was highly unlikely that His Highness would recognise her if he were to meet her again, stripped of all the trappings of her station and her house.

It was worth a try—instead of buying potentially false information from every low-born crook in the city, she might as well try to get to the man himself and make up her own mind about him.

Ellyn wasn’t naïve enough not to be fiercely aware of the moral peril she’d be, in for her father would certainly shun her if he ever learned of this, but she’d come too far to give up now.

“Why, my dear friend,” Ellyn grinned mischievously, feeling more like her brave, ferocious father’s daughter than ever before. “I’m going to pretend to be a whore.”

So, this was the first chapter. -> Chapter 2

⤳Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you want to read more of this, please let me know!

[gold-rhine]

What else the gods are for

Continuation of Chapter 1, doesn't make sense without it

Genre: angst, misinformation campaign and religious homoeroticsm of nonbeliever interacting with god of alien species

Characters: Neuvillette\Wriothesley

Warnings: sfw in a sense that nothing explicitly sexy happens, but there is dissociation, ptsd episode, mentions of self-harm and implied suicidal ideation.

Chapters: 2 out of ?. Wordcount: ~7k

The Palais was quiet and almost empty at this night hour, all bureaucrats long gone save for a single intern with bleak eyes at the table covered in papers. Wriothesley made sure to catch his line of sight and nod, he needed witnesses who could testify to him being here. 

He slowed pace before the doors of Neuvillette’s office, but before he could knock, a melusine materialized in front of him, blocking the way.

“Hello! Please state your business.”

Sedene was bright blue and still somehow he didn’t see her coming. And she was not a veteran fatui agent. She was a receptionist. How melusines could have the most obnoxious colorings, and still be able to sneak up on anyone better than assassins with decades of training was beyond him. 

“I’m here to see the Chief Justice.”

She frowned.

“The office hours are over. I can schedule you an appointment in the next two days.”

Normally he would never antagonize a melusine, let alone Neuvillette’s secretary, but tonight his own future stopped mattering. 

“I’m the Duke of Meropide,” pulling the rank was technically not the low blow, but it was certainly not the most graceful move.  

She held his gaze without flinching, hands on hips.

“I’m aware. This is why I’m offering an appointment in the next two days, and not months.”

Well, time for actually dirty moves.

“Sigewinne said to pass her greetings.”

Sedene sighed, gave him reproachful glare, but turned and knocked on the door. 

“Yes?” Neuvillette’s surprised voice asked. Sedene slid inside and closed the door without giving  Wriothesley a chance to follow, but he was close enough to hear the conversation.

“Sedene? I told you to leave for today hours ago.”

“Well, apparently it’s good that I didn’t. You have a visitor, Monsieur.”

“At this time? Is there an emergency?”

“Doesn’t seem so. It’s just the Duke. Shall I schedule him an appointment for tomorrow’s afternoon?”

Despite the inconvenience, he couldn’t help but respect her dedication. 

“He must have an important reason for a visit at such an hour. Let him in.”

“As you wish, Monsieur,” she relented with a sigh.

The door barely moved as she materialized before  Wriothesley, looking displeased.

“He will see you now.”

He took a deep breath and walked in, plastering a practiced smile over his face.

“Monsieur, apologies for such a late…”

Neuvillette caught his eyes and his expression changed from mild surprise to an alarmed frown. He rose from his seat sharply and for a moment Wriothesley thought he was done for.

“Wriothesley? You are in pain, what happened? Were you attacked?”

“Ah, no, it’s nothing. I’m fine. Cut up my palm a bit by accident, that’s all,” he waved his conveniently sliced up hand, which he took time to bandage beforehand to stop the bleeding. His usual black bandages were especially good for this, because even if blood went through, it wouldn’t be visible. 

Neuvillette didn’t look too convinced.

“You are also… poisoned?”

“Drunk,” Wriothesley clarified. 

“Ah. I see.”

It was good that Iudex brought this up himself. Surely he must know humans are prone to spontaneous and stupid decisions when drunk, a lot of crimes are committed while intoxicated. This should give Wriothesley a sizable leeway in how unusual he acted.

“What is… the purpose of your visit?”

“I think it was quite rude of you to leave like that today, wasn’t it?” he was still keeping up a lopsided grin, slowly walking forward. “I know my company must be horribly drab in comparison to the fancy balls of the *real* nobility you’re used to, but even so.”

“It’s not the reason why I’d le…”

“After so many years of snubbing my invitations to offer a visit yourself and then leave so abruptly is a grave offense even for you, Monsieur.”

He cut Neuvillette off, for the first time in all these years. Years of trying to subtly encourage something more than just polite formalities, of cherishing every time the strict posture was even slightly dropped, every random tangent Iudex would slip into and then profusely apologize, until there were less and less of apologies and more and more of actual talking. He knew it was the night to burn every bridge, but still it felt like tearing out a fragile tree sapling he spent years raising just when it only started to bloom. 

“Cruel to toy with me like that, don’t you think? I trusted you and I didn’t trust anyone since my trial.”

He really *was* drunk, huh. He let the edge of real bitterness slip into his voice. Still, even this could be used, the glimpse of sincerity could sell everything else better.

“My apologies. It was unacceptably rude of me. Perhaps if we could arrange another date…”

“No, my honor demands immediate satisfaction,” he slipped into a mock posh speech pattern. “But don’t worry, I won’t subject you to the tea that so displeased you. The famous water tasting by Iudex will assuage my pride.”

Neuvillette studied him with an incredulous look, head tilted slightly in what now seemed distinctly inhuman manner. Long silver thread of hair swayed, showing more of the blue underside, the same thread Wriothesley wanted to catch between his fingers for so long.

“Well, water should be good for you in this state.”

Neuvillette looked unconvinced, but clearly decided that trying to talk to him rationally was useless right now. He clicked his fingers to summon two silver encrusted with gems goblets to the table. He started to move away from the table, but hesitated and turned to look Wriothesley in the eyes, his own looking so straightforward, clear translucent lilacs and blues and sharp whiteness.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re fine? I can’t help but notice you have a new streak of gray in your hair.”

It was a knife under the ribs, so sharp it took a moment for the pain to even register. By all the gods, human or dragon, why would he even fucking notice. 

For a long, torturous moment he wanted to let it go. He still could have dropped it, in personal matters Neuvillette was lenient to the point of indulgence, he would let this weirdness slide. It would be so easy to let himself drown in these eyes, turn this into a joke, arrange another tea tasting, smooth it over. And the worst part was that deep down, horribly, he knew that if it was only archon blood, he could’ve let it go. Between the god who’s never answered his prayers even when he was still trying to pray and the one who did, it was not much of a stretch. But… “foe of humanity”, Fontaine thrown into war against the heavens… Even if he personally was kept safe, he couldn’t ignore it. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied and stretched his lips into a smile. Not his best work, but should be enough for a non-human who had trouble reading human expressions. That dagger under his ribs felt so real that subconsciously, he smiled with closed lips to not show blood that surely must have been on his teeth. That was not the wound you could hope to survive. 

Neuvillette studied him for a moment longer, hesitant, but eventually turned and walked to the wall cabinet. Wriothesley slipped the vial out of his jacket’s inner pocket and stepped up to the goblets on the table. The poison had no color or smell, and, allegedly, required a mere drop to take effect, so it should be able to go unnoticed in the silvery shadows of the cup.

“Waters of Mondstadt’s Springvale are notable for their crisp and focusing clarity of…” Neuvillette was walking back with a crystal decanter, but stopped abruptly a step away, looking at the goblets. 

“Great, focusing clarity is exactly what I need right now,” Wriothesley struggled to keep his lopsided, shattered grin on as Neuvillette silently looked at him. He closed his fist, nails digging into a sliced up palm. Iudex knew, somehow he could tell, it was over.

Still without a word, Neuvillette closed the rest of the distance to the table and filled goblets with water from the decanter. Wriothesley immediately picked up his cup and downed it in one gulp.

Neuvillette watched him with a frown. Wriothesley didn’t have it in him to bullshit anymore, each word twisting the knife under his own ribs, and the silence stretched, only raindrops beating against the window in a frantic heartbeat. 

________

Neuvillette watched Wriothesley drink, too quickly, like it was life saving. It didn’t make sense. He could sense the stench of poison in both cups. Why would he poison his own cup and then drink it so, not even waiting for the Iudex?

Wriothesley kept smiling, though the pain emanating from him was more suitable for a lethal wound and not a cut hand. Humans made absolutely no sense. Just as the dragon started to think he was getting some understanding, just as he thought there was a human he could find trustworthy after hundreds of years among them… He couldn’t help, but think of Vautrin. A human he trusted, a human he thought he knew... Who turned on him so drastically. But betrayal he could understand, no matter how it pained him. And yet hundreds of years later to learn it was not a betrayal, but a pretense devised by Vautrin to benefit the Iudex… That he was loyal to Neuvillette in the prison the dragon sentenced him to, without ever saying a word to him, leaving him to be eaten by sorrow for all this time?

He didn’t want to live another half a thousand years in doubt, relying on blind luck to finally learn some truth. He needed answers, now. 

He circled around the table and closed the distance with the Duke in a couple of steps. Wriothesley took an instinctive step back and drew a breath through his teeth, unfitting smile finally dropping, his fists clenching with icy aura wisping over his fingers.

It wouldn’t matter. A simple vision was no match against a Sovereign.

Neuvillette raised his hand and could sense Wriothesley’s quickened heartbeat, yet he didn’t step back again.

But the Iudex knew humans were pathologically incapable of communicating openly, even for the most mundane topics. They are offended if you don’t say “Greetings” and “How are you?”, even if they never intended to tell you the truth of it. But you need to make ritualistic steps to let them do their own “Hello, thank you, I’m fine, and you?”, so you could tell them “I’m very well, thank you,” because they don’t expect sincerity for the question either. No, they abhor sincerity. But if the dance steps are taken correctly, no matter how nonsensical, then you might hope to have some meaningful communication after. 

If you didn’t do the rituals humans wanted, they would simply refuse to tell you anything of the matter. He could crush the Warden in one move, but it would not bring him answers he desired. Whatever this ridiculous game was, he needed to pretend to play, at least for a time.

And so, still keeping his gaze on the determined, infuriatingly stubborn grey-blue eyes, still standing right against him, Neuvillette picked up the remaining goblet and drank out of it.

“Will you now explain the meaning of this or do you plan on dragging on this farce?” he said after, placing the goblet down on the table. He couldn’t help but sound resentful.

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“Yeah, so, the poison I put into our drinks has an antidote. I’ve hidden it in a safe place, which I can reach within ten minutes. Otherwise the poison will start working after half an hour. Answer my questions, and if you explain yourself, I will get the antidote.”

He took a conch out of his pocket and placed it on the table, and the conch suddenly made a sound.

“Now that I have reclaimed one of the Seven Authorities from the hands of the usurpers, I have regained my true form. I am now a fully fledged dragon, powerful enough to judge the rest of the gods. My final destiny is to judge the Usurper-King in the heavens above.”

“Are these your words?” Wriothesley asked quietly when the recording stopped.

“Yes”, Neuvillette said after a pause, because they were. He watched the light flicker and die in the human’s eyes, the way he only ever saw at the moment of the especially harsh trial sentence. 

“Wow,” the Duke said hoarsely and chuckled, though even the dragon could tell it was utterly humorless. “You’re just going to admit it like that, huh.”

“I do not lie.”

“Ha! So direct lying is the line you decided to draw? Turning oceans upside down and lies by omission are fine?”

“Lies by omission? I do not owe humans disclosure of my personal identity,” Neuvillette titled his head, examining the Duke, incensed at the audacity. “What do you think you even know? Humans are not of Teyvat. This land belonged to the dragons, the elements of it were attuned to us. We are the blood and flesh of this world. Foreign invaders came and waged war on us, destroyed the natural order of the world, re-shaped the land itself to suit themselves. *They* brought you here, to take the place they carved from *us*.”

 Wriothesley drew in a sharp breath, clearly taken aback, looking away for a moment, but then he raised his eyes again, still stubborn.

“So you’re waging the war back?”

“You expect me to forget how the usurpers wiped out most of my people and killed me? How they stole a part of me and gave it to their own false god of life?” He was aware that his eyes started glowing, an outward sign of power accumulating, but he didn’t care to hide it now. “Yes, I will wage war on them. Some debts could only be paid in blood. I’d thought you of all humans would understand that.”

“I’ve never harmed an innocent,”  Wriothesley spit out. “Or do humans not count as such? What are we to you? Invasive pests?”

For the first time, the Iudex averted his gaze.

“At first, yes,” he said finally. “Or maybe more accurately… pets of my enemy. But even while it was my primary understanding, I did not let it affect my judgment as Chief Justice. You cannot accuse me of breaking my word.” 

Wriothesley took another step forward, the closest they’ve ever been, the closest any human dared to approach him.

“Breaking your word is the last fucking thing I’d care about, with everything you’ve done to us! With what…”

“Silence,” Neuvillette struck his cane in between them. Wriothesley visibly choked on a word, anger and hurt emanating from him in heated waves, but he kept silent as the Iudex continued.“If you have accusations, state them. I will not tolerate baseless insults.”

Wriothesley looked away, took a deep breath and then met his eyes squarely.

“You’ve plotted to destroy Focalors and took over Fontaine to use in a war against heavens.”

It took Neuvillette a second to process this, and then he couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it was.

“No, I did not. Preposterous!” How could anyone believe this was incomprehensible, clearly a flimsy excuse for the conspiracy Wriothesley himself told him before.

“Oh, that’s funny to you? That’s all you have to say?”

“Of course. What would a word of… what was it?” Neuvillette narrowed his eyes, and stretched his lips in a grin that showed the fangs he spent so many centuries hiding. “Ah, “evil monster”, mean to you?”

To his surprise, Wriothesley didn’t flinch, didn’t falter, his eyes steady, resolute.

“No, don’t try this. I was… I could tell you were not human for a long time. I would’ve stood by you, water spirit, dragon or a fucking demon from the depths of the Abyss.”

Despite the icy wisps around his hands, his emotions burned white-hot bright, angry and sincere. He seemed to really believe this, and yet, he still felt betrayed by the Iudex. Neuvillette paused, thrown aback. It was so hard without being able to communicate the thoughts directly like the vishaps did. But this… There must have been another reason for what he did then.

“If my true nature is really not the cause of your hatred…” he took a step back himself, closing his hands on the handle of his cane. “Name concrete actions you believe I’ve performed. I cannot prove a negative.”

____________

Wriothesley watched Neuvillette step back, an eerie glow in his eyes softening to his usual translucent lilacs.

“Was it you who turned fontanians from oceanids into humans who can’t be dissolved by the Primordial Sea?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you do it before? In all five hundred years?”

“Such a feat requires a full authority of the Hydro Sovereign, power of the original god of life. Large part of this power was in possession of Hydro Archon, so I could not do it, even if I wanted.”

“Hydro Archon could not do it?”

“No. The Sovereign has control over the Primordial Sea, the Archon doesn’t.”

“Did you blackmail Focalors to orchestrate her death and get that power back? Because it’s the only way to save humans?”

“No,” the Iudex said with a dismissive huff. “How would I even blackmail her? I was not in control of the prophecy. You cannot possibly think me complicit with the usurpers in the heavens.”

“You had control over the Primordial Sea, though. If not complete, then considerable. You stopped the flood in the Meripode all by yourself. And so your seal was the only thing controlling the gates to the Sea,”  Wriothesley narrowed his eyes. “And you made sure you will be the one called for when the flood comes to the Fortress so you could create that seal, did you not? You made me the Duke to ensure my loyalty, to know you will be the one I called when the time comes.”

“Is this what you think I am? This is what you think we…” Neuvillette looked at him with what seemed genuine surprise and sadness. “No, I did not plan it. And no, this is not why I petitioned for your title.”

After a moment Iudex’s surprise turned into incredulity.

“What purpose would it even serve? Tell me, if I did not fight for your title… No, even if I explicitly was the one who denied you. Would you then not call for me first anyway?”

Wriothesley exhaled slowly. It was true, there was no one else he would ask. Neuvillette was the most powerful being in Fountaine, raw strength and authority both, his word often more influential than that of the Archon, and demonstrably much more effective decision-wise. Even if Furina was the one who gave him the title and Neuvillette was against him, he’d step over his pride when there were so many lives on the line.

“Okay. How did you become the Iudex then?”

“Focalors sent me a letter of invitation.”

“Why? Why would she invite a mortal enemy to become Chief Justice?”

“You are asking me to answer for the actions of another. At least state the entire crime you think I’m guilty of.”

“That first, you’ve forced Focalors to made you Iudex to have a high seat in human society, then spent centuries waiting and building our trust. Then when the prophecy was finally about to strike, you put Furina on a trial to discredit her and secretly offered a deal to save the humans in exchange for her death and return of your power.”

“I see,” Neuvillette said after a pause. “This is not a plan a dragon would come up with, but I suppose it sounds plausible to someone scared of our kind. Fine. I will tell you what happened from my own perspective.”

“At the time I had no idea why she summoned me. She only explained herself right before the prophecy struck, at the very end of Furina’s trial.”

“She knew only Hydro Sovereign at full power could save fontanians. And she truly believed herself a god of justice. A just decision was to return the authority to the one it was stolen from. For that, she put her human part, Furina, on the throne, and hid her divinity in the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale, accumulating energy from the trials, for it would take much to destroy the Archon’s throne.”

“At the same time, she invited me to serve as the Iudex, so that I would come to sympathize with the humans after living among them for so long. I was not aware of her intent.”

“In the end, she destroyed the Archon throne, which meant both her own death and Hydro authority returning to me.”

 Wriothesley swallowed, frowning. If this was true… It would mean he saved fontanians for no reason other than mercy. Despite his grief, despite the resentment anyone else would feel towards people who replaced his own. It felt wrong to continue pushing the dragon, but he had to.

“If you did not know that she planned to return your power… Why would you agree to come? To serve the “false god” who has your stolen power?”

Neuvillette looked away. He was silent for a long time, and when he spoke up, it was obviously through a struggle.

“I was trying to find a purpose,” he finally said, with quiet and raw grief. “My people were long gone, I had nothing to apply myself to. And I was born in this form, there had to be some reason for it. I just tried to find a meaning for my existence.”

It was horrible to hear him say it like this, private, deep pain gutted against his wish. Despite Iudex’s solemn and dignified manner, it was always obvious to the Duke that he carried a lot of sorrow in his heart. Wriothesley spent all his years as the Warden evading noisy journalists who demanded to learn people’s deepest secrets, and having to do this to Neuvillette left him feeling sick. 

“I’m sorry. I truly am.”

Neuvillette looked at him with his piercing illuminated eyes.

“The next logical question for your interrogation should be why I decided to save the people of Fountaine.”

 Wriothesley couldn’t stand it anymore.

“No, don’t. If all said to this point is true, I already know it. You’re far too kind to condemn all the people you’ve lived among for centuries. Even if you saw us as pets of your enemy.”

“I didn’t,” the Iudex said after a pause, almost softly. “Not at the end.”

“I believe you,”  Wriothesley said with sincerity that he knew wouldn’t be trusted.

The dragon gave him a long, measuring look, head tilted to the side, guarded in a way Wriothesley was used to seeing only turned to other people. He opened a gloved palm, showing a shimmering drop of water hovering over it.

“I can show you my memories of meeting Focalors as proof.”

Wriothesley’s first instinct demanded to see that “proof”, but he realized it was his own paranoia gnawing at him, just as it was his self-loathing that told him Neuvillette couldn’t give him title without ulterior motive. It felt like looking at moonlight through the dirty windows, and he didn’t want this to be the last thing he saw in the lilac eyes..

“No. I believe you.”

Neuvillette held his eyes for another long moment and then sighed, closing his palm. “I truly do not understand you humans.”

It wasn’t over yet.  Wriothesley forced himself to keep talking.

“Even with this all being true… There’s still a matter of war with the heavens.”

“What of it? You cannot tell me that Fontaine still holds loyalty to the Usurpers. Frankly, it baffles me that it ever did,” Neuvillette’s voice took on sarcastic notes that normally could never be heard from him. “Perhaps this is why they called us “primitive”, but in our kind you punished people who disobeyed you and not their children several generations later. And no vishap would be expected to meekly follow a god that gave them nothing but a death sentence for a crime of their ancestors.”

“It’s not a question of loyalty, it’s a question of casualties that a war like that would take.”

“Casualties? Do you imagine I plan to march humans to the flying island? This is *my* war, not Fontaine’s.”

“Fontaine is *your* country now, like it or not. It will answer for your actions.”

Neuvillette seemed briefly taken off-guard.

“You have a point. Perhaps I’m still too steeped in the notion of considering myself an outsider… But even so. Firstly, I do not plan to leave Fontaine for some time, until I’ve reformed it and could be sure it will stand on it’s own, which could take hundreds of years.”

 Wriothesley breathed out slowly, but Neuvillette held his eyes.

“Second, if you’re concerned with repercussions for my actions, be sure that Focalors signed you a death sentence thrice over. Not only subverting a prophecy, tricking the Usurper, but also destroying the Archon’s Throne to return the authority to the Sovereign? A clear sign the usurpers are slumbering or at least are in weakened state, or they would already bring down the retribution for a sin much greater than Egeria’s.”

“At this point, I *am* the only protection Fontaine could hope for,” Neuvillette’s fingers tightened on the cane, as he looked at  Wriothesley. “Unless you plan to offer them my head on the platter. It would probably work, I admit. The Usurpers are known to be partial to the convenient sacrifices as deals.”

Wriothesley swallowed a bitter chuckle.

“Yeah, after tonight, it’s fair if that’s how you think of me,” he turned, moving to the door. “I’m gonna get an antidote.”

“No need,” Neuvillette said calmly and Wriothesley froze in the middle of the room, mid-step, turning around. “Whoever told you that this… “poison” has an antidote, lied. It does not.”

“What?” his heart fell, the dagger that was lodged under his ribs suddenly sliding down to gut him open.

“This is not a poison at all. It’s a concentrated essence of the Abyss. Any poisonous effects are secondary to the corruption. A human it will kill, sure, and then the body would most likely become a possessed, shambling corpse, driven by the dark urge. A god… a lesser god it might also kill, yes, but for stronger ones it’s meant to corrupt.”

An open wound under Wriothesley’s ribcage turned into an aching fearful whirlpool, cold and black and gnawing.

“An abyss corruption doesn’t kill Sovereigns, but drives us to madness,” Neuvillette continued calmly. “Which could risk contamination of the Primordial Sea if I do eventually die while still corrupted.”

“There must be a way to stop it,” Wriothesley said hoarsely, hearing himself as if from behind a glass wall, numb and petrified. “No. No, it’s can’t be, no, listen, I…” he tried to come up with a plan and couldn’t. He was never so terrified in his life. This couldn’t happen, he could not allow it. Healers seemed useless, if it’s the Abyss curse and not poison, besides, if Neuvillette was the god of life he’d know better, wouldn’t he? But…

“I sense you’re scared. Why?” Neuvillette said suddenly, frowning. “Obviously since I’ve sensed the poison, I’ve removed it beforehand.”

“Removed?”

“It’s a liquid. I’m a Hydro Sovereign,” Neuvillette said slowly, like he was talking to an idiot. “Next time you want to kill me, maybe try something not in my direct control.”

“Fuck,” relief kicked  Wriothesley under the knees and behind the eyes at the same time, leaving his head empty and legs weak. Which left him wide open for the alcohol, tiredness and general shitshow of this night to finally make a strike, now that he knew both Fontaine and Neuvillette were safe. Now he could afford to lose focus.

He stumbled blindly to the side and crashed into the sofa, crumbling to the floor. He managed to sit up and lean against the sofa instead of just sprawling prone, which at this point counted as victory. He was too dizzy to track time, but after some moments, he registered Neuvillette walking up to stop a few steps away and hover awkwardly.

“I did not mean to mislead you like this.”

“It’s fine, you’ve been doing it for years. It was just never with fear before.”

He shouldn’t have said that. But then again, what did it matter? The dragon wouldn’t get it, and  Wriothesley was going to be dead in a few minutes anyway. It would probably be more polite to get out of here before he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He was so fucking tired and, frankly, selfishly would want to die next to Neuvillette than alone. Even if the immortal dragon was going to remember him as a betrayer who ruined his carpet in death. Oh well, luckily, humans didn’t reincarnate, so he wouldn’t have to face it later.

“You’ve put the poison into both of our cups, but there was only one portion of an antidote,” Neuvillette said after a pause. “Why?”

He shrugged, not looking up.

“Well, either you really were a plotting tyrant, and then I don’t want to live in the world where for so many years I’ve… trusted you. Or you were not, and then I do not want to live in a world where I did this to you.”

He heard Neuvillette sigh, with slow and heavy exasperation, and then the dragon sat down on the sofa. Wriothesley could see his crossed legs and hands closing on the handle of the cane from the corner of his eye.

“Absolutely nothing could be simple with you humans, could it?”

“I’m sorry, if it would even mean anything to you,” he wanted to explain himself, but the apologies from someone who betrayed him were probably the last thing the Iudex wanted to hear right now.  Wriothesley could still be useful though. “I think you should seriously look into the conspiracy. The initial thread I got was from the prisoner named Jacque, but the real…”

“I think we should postpone this discussion until you’re no longer drunk and falling in pieces on my floor.”

Wriothesley blinked.

“I… The poison is gonna kick in in a few minutes?”

“I already told you I’ve removed it.”

He turned his head, finally looking up at Neuvillette.

“Even from my goblet?”

“Obviously,” the Iudex looked briefly scandalized. “Why would I leave it?”

“...Because I tried to poison you?”

“That’d be barbaric.”

“That’d be a fitting sentence,” Wriothesley chuckled, looking away. “Oh, sorry, of course. You’ll have me on the trial then.”

The dragon was silent for a long time.

“No,” he said finally.

“What? Why?”

“This situation is largely my own fault,” Neuvillette said, melancholic and very tired, but his voice was still firm. “I should have seen this change of power as a weak point to attract the opportunist piranhas. And as my true identity is kept secret, I’ve only made it easier for them to exploit both the existing prejudices and the insecurities of this turbulent time.”

“You can’t take responsibility for that.”

“Of course I can,” Neuvillette said, with immediate certainty of stating an absolute fact and not an opinion. “What else are the gods for?”

Wriothesley chuckled roughly. Historically, the gods were for watching humans suffer and judging how boring the spectacle is. 

“Fortunately, I am not bound by the laws of either humans or heavens. I can afford the luxury of mercy.”

 Wriothesley looked up. Of course. He decided to forgive and save his foes, what else could you expect.

“Don’t pity me. I am a poor place to bestow divine mercy. I knew what I was doing, and it’s what I expected to die for, not live with.”

“You will have to,” Neuvillette said, meeting his eyes, strict and solemn. ”You are needed by your people.”

 Wriothesley ran his fingers through his hair and buried face in his hands, fighting an urge to lean against the Iudex’ legs. “I had always failed the ones who needed me the most, didn’t I? From all these years ago, it hasn't changed.”

“That’s not true. What you said about your title…” Neuvillette said suddenly. “Even with the worst assumptions about my plotting, I had no way of knowing when the Usurpers’ prophecy would finally strike, and that you will be the Meropide’s Warden at that time. There were Wardens more financially successful or the ones whose loyalty could really be bought with such a favor, but I’ve never petitioned for a title to the Warden before. That title was recognition that you brought fairness to the Fortress, a real option for people to start anew. I thought we had an unspoken understanding of that.”

He thought he reached the far end of how painful it could feel, but now he took a ragged breath and it sliced his throat down to the collarbones.

“I know, I thought so too. I thought… Listen, I’m sorry. No matter how much you despise me now, believe me, I hate myself much more.”

“I don’t despise you,” Neuvillette said, almost with a surprise, turning his head to catch  Wriothesley’s eyes, which he desperately avoided. “I would, if I could suspect you of selfishness in this. But I believe you did what you thought was to protect your people, and I can’t despise that, even if I find the method distasteful.”

 Wriothesley couldn’t bring himself to talk, even breathing was painful and shaky through a lump in his throat.

“Maybe it’s just the clearest sign that I do not belong here after all,” Neuvillette said with resignation after a beat. “At that recent investigation, you were the one who convinced me I was accepted by Fontaine, even had an influence in shaping it. If even you came to stop believing that…”

“No. I didn’t, I…” he finally managed to speak up and willed himself to concentrate through the dizziness and despair. “In my office, I left a signed confession of attempting to kill you. For personal vendetta. Your death would have been seen as a tragedy, your influence solidified even more.”

“You would let your own memory be tainted to preserve my image, even if it was false?”

“Well, I already have a pretty sordid history, don’t I? Not much to ruin and not hard to believe I would do it. Of course it’d be worth preserving your legacy. The fairness, the trial is the only place where the wealthy and the poor, strong and weak would be treated equally,” he shrugged helplessly, struggling to spell this out. “I would have still believed in what you represented even if I could no longer believe you.”

He finally looked up to see Neuvillette looking at him thoughtfully.  

“Don’t give up on us,” he said quietly. “At least on everyone else. Please.”

The dragon was silent for some time, looking away, his face unmoving, unreadable. 

“This is the first time you’ve asked anything of me directly,” he said finally. “I’ll  remember.”

He looked back at Wriothesley, frowning.

“But you’re in such sharp pain, it should be treated. How badly was your hand wounded? Show me.”

“It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

But Neuvillette already extended an open hand and leveled him an expecting glare, so Wriothesley had no choice but to reluctantly place his own into the gloved palm.

“You still have little glass shards there.”

“It’s fine, don’t bother. I’ve dealt with worse.”

But the Iudex was already untangling the bandages, loop after loop, methodically, carefully, and Wriothesley willed himself to keep still, to keep breathing evenly, looking up from where he was sitting on the floor, his treacherous fingers twitching, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. Neuvillette got rid of the last of black damp strips of cloth and looked down, frowning, before swiping a thumb over Wriothesley’s palm. His wounds prickled as the tiny glistening shards were forced out of his flesh and his hand shuddered, mostly from surprise.

“Apologies.”

“It’s fine.”

It was not fine, but for completely different reasons. Neuvillette’s thumb slid over his palm again, his touch feeling light and cool, and too, too gentle, and the slices closed with no scars left. Almost numbly, Wriothesley watched gloved fingertips become stained with his blood, and it felt wrong, almost obscene to dirty the impeccable attire like that. But then even through the obedient haze the thought struck him. If Neuvillette could sense emotions just by being nearby and he could read the entire lifespan of the tea bush by tasting a cup, then what could touching blood tell him?..

“Ah. I should have realized that the emotions I’ve felt from the tea were far too strong for an unthinking plant,” Neuvillette’s fingers stopped moving, lingered for a moment and then slowly circled Wriothesley’s palm in a gesture he’d read as caress if it wasn’t so unthinkable. “It was your yearning that amplified the taste. A dream of rain for a lifetime raised in a drought.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look up, all thoughts scattered, eyes fixed on the gloved fingers on his palm, until they finally started to move away, and then instinctively, he closed his hand and caught them. For a moment he waited for a divine retribution to strike him down for the audacity, and when it didn’t happen, he finally met Neuvillette’s eyes, and they were soft lilacs, not radiant anger. 

“You are misguided, I’m afraid,” he said, and it sounded patient and just a little sad. “We are of different worlds. No matter how much I might look like a human, I’m not and I’ll never be one.”

 Wriothesley held his gaze and carefully, slowly tagged the glove off. Neuvillette’s brows shot up, but he didn’t move. His hand would be the epitome of what was usually described as aristocratic - narrow, with long, elegant fingers, pale and soft, making  Wriothesley’s hand look even more dark and rough by contrast. But there *was* something out of ordinary - the dusting of pearly blue scales at his knuckles. And with every second of being free of the glove, the scales spread, a gentle shimmer of the waves licking farther into the sand of the coast, and the short nails started darkening and elongating. 

 Wriothesley smiled and, holding Neuvillette’s eyes, pressed his lips against the scales on the dragon’s knuckles. “I wouldn’t want something you are not.”

He couldn’t believe his own audacity, but, well, what did he have to lose after tonight? 

“I don’t think you realize how far the differences run.”

“I don’t think you realize how strong human desires run,” he said, lips still against Neuvillette’s knuckles, but then breathed out and forced himself to let go of the Iudex’ hand.. “But it doesn’t matter if you don’t care.”

Suddenly, instead of moving away, Neuvillette’s fingers moved to catch  Wriothesley’s chin, and the human froze, holding his breath.

“If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t even let you into my office so late,” the dragon said calmly, slowly moving his thumb over  Wriothesley’s lower lip, long dark claw pressing just on the verge of drawing blood. “You think I would indulge anyone else in playing this pretend poison game?”

This hit Wriothesley harder than alcohol. He opened his mouth to let Neuvillette’s thumb in, pointedly holding his eyes. Iudex’ face stayed calm, but narrow white pupils pulsed, flaring up, making for a moment anything seem possible, and  Wriothesley grinned, taking more of the dragon’s thumb in.

After a heartbeat, Neuvillette moved his arm, letting go of  Wriothesley and folding his hands on the handle of the cane in a familiar gesture. But now, the orderly gloved fingers intertwined with bare fingers, with deep blue and black scales covering almost all of visible skin, dark claws settling against expensive cloth, gold embellishments on one hand and gold ridges growing on the knuckles Wriothesley just kissed on the other hand, maddeningly tempting.

“This is not a conversation we should have when you’re in drunken shock.”

“Listen, I’ve never been more sure of anyth…”  Wriothesley managed to get out, but Neuvillette raised black-blue, scaly, storm-swirled, golden-ridged hand and snapped the clawed fingers and the world went dark.

[chaosgremlinmunson]

Forever with you

For @steddie-week July7: Free space

I chose to write Steddie getting engaged, featuring Stobin and the meddling platonic soulmate.

If anyone had told Steve when he was younger that he would meet a group of people who loved him so fiercely the world itself shook from their ire should he be harmed, he'd have laughed at them. Steve Harrington had been a douche-bag jock, a prima-donna self centered jerk, an air headed pretty boy. He was good for a hook-up, a kiss, maybe even a few dates, but young Steve was not someone you thought of when you thought about sensitive, caring, kind people who would drop the world just to make sure you were okay and had anything you needed. Yet here he was at 20 years old, the apocalypse finally over and he was surrounded by so much love and devotion from the ragtag group who'd long ago become his found family.

Steve smiled to himself sipping from his champagne flute as the platonic love of his life held firmly to the girl she chose to marry, their first dance as a wedded couple and you could see for them the rest of the world had melted away. Steve looked across the room where Eddie sat with Dustin, they laughed together over something Eddie had said.

Steve found himself smiling dopily as he watched them interact, his brother and the love of his life getting on like a house on fire as they always did. Steve remembered the sleepless nights beside Eddie's hospital bed as he prayed to God he wasn't sure existed for him to please make it, please wake up. He remembered the first time Eddie’s fingers curled around his hand while he was still lost in his own mind, deep in that coma he was fighting to escape. He remembered the tears falling when those huge brown eyes opened, and he'd rasped a “hey, big boy” at Steve who couldn't stop the joyous laugh at finally seeing Eddie awake.

He remembered the first months of grueling therapy, Eddie relearning to walk again, his body betraying him but he kept on. How Eddie insisted he was going to walk to Steve one day without the need to hold onto rails. Eddie did it, yes he needed a can now, but he was walking. He remembered the first night he made them dinner together as more than friends, how he melted into the hesitant and shy kiss Eddie gave him as he knelt down to adjust Eddie's pillows.

Steve remembered every moment they had together, and now here he was, twenty years old and ready to spend the rest of his life making this man smile. Robin came up beside Steve to sit at the sweetheart table after dance, her eyes following his line of sight.

“Just think, Dingus, this time next year we could be celebrating your wedding.” She murmured.

“I have to ask him first, Bobbin. And I can't do that tonight, I refuse to take away from your special day.” He grinned back.

“Oh pshh, listen, I have an idea.” She leaned in whispering in his ear and his grin grew wider still before she showed him across the room. Standing she clinked her champagne flute with a fork calling attention from the crowd, “Hi everyone, i just wanted to thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate with us. Ronnie and I are so glad to have each and everyone of you by our side on our special day. The only thing that could make today any better and brighter was if my best friend, my brother from a different mother, and absolute favorite human on this earth was getting married today too. But, since he insisted he didn't want to take away from my day, I had to give him a kick in his ass, Eddie dearest, my Dingus has a super special question to ask you.”

Eddie gaped at Robin and then looked up at Steve who dropped to one knee before Eddie.

“You're better with words than I can ever be, but I love you so much, and nothing in this world would make me happier than if you would do me the honor of being my husband.” Steve said smiling up at Eddie, his own eyes shining with love and devotion.

“As if I'd say anything except for yes to any future with you Stevie.” Eddie pulled Steve in by the hand kissing him, “yes! I'll marry you!” Steve slipped a solid black and silver band on Eddie's finger. The engraving on the ring was the same as that from Lord of the Rings, and Eddie giggled looking back up to Steve's face.

“A toast!” Called Robin, “to the happiness and fortuitous future of my platonic soulmate and the man he loves!”

“Hear! Hear!” Yelled the rest of the room as Steve and Eddie held each other in a warm embrace.

[selesera]

I’ve got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me

hello! I go by Sel here and I am sharing my first piece of writing with you, tumblr. I want to dedicate this to @the-lonelybarricade because she is the kindest person online and she immediately saw my other post saying I was proud of myself for writing this and said she -sobs- wanted to read it 🥹

This is a short drabble that came out a little sad and angsty but I am a diehard elucien so have hope dear reader! This was inspired by You're losing me by my queen and saviour tswizzie. I'm so sorry in advance for any typos!

__________________________

Lady Elain, 

I write this in the hopes that you will agree to speak with me upon my next visit to Velaris.

It is important and urgent.

Cordially,

Lucien

Elain smoothed out the folded lines of his letter again. Her fingers lightly brushed the letters of his elegant penmanship, terrified of blurring the ink and erasing the way he had written her name. She knew what his “important and urgent” topic was. He was tired of being shackled to her. She could feel his exhaustion, his self hatred, his desperation. Not through the bond, no. She kept her side of that golden string firmly closed. No…she could see his dreams. 

She saw night after night how he confronted her, told her she had to choose. Begging her to choose him. To love him. Or to free him.

Some nights, he would dream that she accepted him and the dream would devolve into a flurry of kisses, wandering fingers, moans and sighs of pleasure. 

Other nights, he would dream she rejected the bond. In those dreams she would stare at her own face, hardened by indifference and disdain. Watch herself coldly stand by as he wept at her feet. Scream at herself to comfort the man - male - that loved her.

She wished she could say those were the worst dreams but she had had the misfortune of seeing his other dreams too. His nightmares. Beron beheading a beautiful fae named Jesminda, wearing an expression on his cruel face much too similar to her own. Hot spikes descending on him. Standing firm against the whips against his back. Screaming as blood red nails dragged down his face. 

The truth was that Elain didn’t know how she felt about being able to see his dreams. On one hand, she felt lucky that she could see the pieces of his history that influenced who he was but that he did not let define him, even as her heart broke at the horrors that he had endured. On the other hand… if she was being honest with herself… it made her angry. 

How dare he make her care about his future? How dare he make her want to soothe and heal every jagged wound to his heart? She was independent. She was not his keeper. She was not the plaything of the cauldron. She would make her own life or die trying! 

At least that’s what she kept telling herself she would do. 

Truthfully, she was scared. How could she be independent in her baby sister’s house? Enjoying all the luxuries that her money bought? She loved Feyre. So much. Had finally created a true relationship with her sister but she still felt stifled. Bored. She couldn’t help thinking that a little distance might do them some good...

One of these days she was going to be able to control her traitorous thoughts… one of these days in her interminably long life.

This is why she hated thinking about him. He always made her question everything about herself, about her life.

Elain looked down again at the letter in her hands. The time had come to respond.

Two pathways emerged in front of her. The first, a path where she chose to stay in her quiet life and let her fear win. The second where fear was still present but sunshine and wildflowers lined the path and a love like no other awaited her.

She put her pen to her paper.

Lucien, 

Please accept my regrets. I will be unavailable during your next trip to Velaris. 

I will endeavour to make myself available on your next visit.

Elain Archeron

[elizabethwritesmen]

The Devil Wears Lace

chapter 4 : March 3, 2023

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader

summary: you go on a date to try and get ghost off your mind, but still, somehow, you end the night with him instead.

warnings: 18+ for eventual smut, reader goes on a date with someone who’s not simon, reader kisses someone who’s not simon, i think that’s all but let me know if i missed anything!

series masterlist

March 3, 2023

Not even a month had passed and I could still see it all in my mind. I hadn’t spent a second not thinking about him, kicking myself and cursing his stupid codename or whatever. I felt so unlike myself, giggly and stupid, begging God for one more chance to see him, swearing I’ll take advantage of it like he doesn’t turn me to mush. I’m confident enough to flirt with him, to toy with him the way I do them all. But I don’t have it in me to actually make a move, or even insinuate that I want him.

And what would happen if I had him? He’d probably get up and leave right after wrecking me, his self intact and mine done for. He’d walk out, and I’d go back to barely ever seeing him. If ever again. Who knows when he’d stop being sent to my town? Why did I want that so badly? Something I couldn’t even have, not really? Something that I knew would ruin me and my life to a point I couldn’t come back from? Something that would turn me into a worse person than I already was?

I craved it, though. I told myself I could handle having him once then never again. I could handle not knowing where he was after, and not having any contact. I could handle the fact that I was falling over the edge and there was no way it would end well.

I decided I needed to take my mind off of it, and what better way than with someone else? This particular guy had been begging me for a date for months, and he was cute. What harm could come from saying yes? I didn’t want to be with him or anything, but maybe a little flirting, a little attention, a little more could clear my mind of that mask.

So there I was, sitting at the table across from… oh, what was his name again? Dave? Don? Danny? Oh! Drake. It was definitely Drake. I think.

He was going on and on about his plans to get out of the military and open his own sporting goods company. Great dreams. I couldn’t see him actually achieving them.

My phone buzzed on the table, and I held a hand up to stop his rambling, “That’s all great, give me just a second, though.” He seemed a little dumbstruck that I’d had the audacity to shut him up, but stayed silent as I walked away to answer Sabrina’s call.

“Dude, where are you?” she spoke from the other line, “I’ve texted you like ten times.”

“I’m on that date, remember?”

“Date? You didn’t tell me about a date,” I could hear the smirk in her voice, “How’s that?”

“Oh, perfect. I was just about to ride off into the sunset on his white horse when you called,” I groaned, and she giggled.

“Well come to the bar, save yourself from that misery.”

“The bar? Why?”

“Just come to the damn bar!”

I jumped slightly at her tone, she could be assertive when she wanted to. “You got something sketchy up your sleeve?” I asked, eyebrows raised though she couldn’t see me.

“Just come! Please!” This time she was pleading, and I sighed.

“Anything is better than being here with Mr. Future Entrepreneurs of America. I’ll be there in a sec.”

I briefly wondered how I was going to get out of the date, then realized, what would he do if I just told him I had somewhere to be and left? Probably nothing, just stare at me dumbly.

I sauntered to the table, pulling 30 dollars out of my bag.

“This should cover my part. I’ve gotta go,” I hummed, beginning to turn on my heel, but he stopped me with a hand on my arm. God, I hated being touched.

I swung around, already annoyed, and he crumbled a bit under my stare but plowed onward, “I thought we were having a good time.”

“Yeah, sure, it was great,” I shrugged, “Just gotta go. I have somewhere to be. You can keep my food when it comes, take it home or something.”

“Do I at least get a goodnight kiss?”

“Do you think you deserve one?” I raised a brow and his expression was comical, in disbelief I would say such a thing.

“Yes,” he nodded frantically, “You’re leaving early, skipping out on a date you agreed to! It’s the least you could do!”

“Fine, if it means no hard feelings,” I shrugged, leaning down and slotting my lips against his before I could talk myself out of it. It was just a kiss. It didn’t matter at all. Kisses never really did.

It was okay, except it wasn’t really okay at all. I pulled away, giving his cheek a tap before walking off to my getaway car.

The drive to the bar was quick, I was already downtown so it only took minutes to pull into the small parking lot. The only spot open was in the alley, naturally, so I went for it. I could hear Ghost’s voice in my head, telling me not to do it, and I hadn’t been! But desperate times, you know what I mean?

I got out of the car, bag in hand, and smoothed out my dress. It was a purple slip with floral black mesh over top of it, and I thought it looked great on me, highlighting the right curves and smoothing over the wrong ones. I was also wearing heels, black stilettos, they were very femme fatale. Fully satisfied with my appearance, right down to my big curls and my deep red lips, I walked inside.

Sabrina noticed me immediately, sprinting for me.

“Fuck, you look hot!” she squealed, and I was too preoccupied with her to see who was sitting at the bar. “Someone is here to see you!”

I turned to where she was gesturing, and there was Ghost, sitting at a turned around barstool facing us, hands folded in his perfect lap.

“What is he doing here so soon?” I gasped, throat going dry and heart pumping extra hard.

“I’m not sure, but he came here asking about you and I told him you weren’t working. He was gonna leave but I said I’d get you here, and, well, he waited,” her voice sounded extra sweet on the last word, as if she almost couldn’t believe he’d done it. As if it was the most precious thing in the world, and maybe it was.

“You couldn’t have warned me he was here?” My anxiety flared up, and I was suddenly feeling self conscious, worried my dress wasn’t covering me enough, worrying I couldn’t walk well enough in my heels. I wanted his approval, I wanted him to like what he saw, and fear that he wouldn’t ripped through me like a current.

“I told you, you look hot, stop stressing. Now go talk to him!”

I nodded, steeling my resolve and walking his way. He was waiting there, expectant, and I stopped right in between his open legs.

“I heard you were asking about me?” I smirked coolly, more confidence than I actually had dripping from me like syrup.

“Words gets around fast here, huh?”

“What’re you doing back so soon? Not that I’m complaining, I’m just used to having to wait until I’m absolutely desperate to see you and then somehow you pop up.”

“You aren’t desperate to see me now?”

“Maybe a little,” I shrugged dismissively, “You were kind of an ass last time, so.”

“I wasn’t an ass, I was trying to help you.”

“By yelling at me?”

“There you go again, lying. I didn’t yell, I was stern with you. I have a feeling you like when a man is stern with you, so why are you whining?” My cheeks went red, burning with embarrassment.

“You’ve got all kinds of things to say tonight, huh?” I gasped, “But really, what are you doing here? You’ve been sent back already?”

“No…” he started, hesitant to continue, “I had a few days of leave and wanted to come here and check on you.”

The words rolled over and over in my head. He had leave, personal time, and he used it to see me. I couldn’t help but get all starry eyed and cursed myself for being such an idiot.

“Checking on me, soldier? If I didn’t know better I’d think you cared.”

He groaned, eyes rolling and they looked so pretty that way. “What happened in the alley was a lot, I wanted to make sure you were okay, especially after being kidnapped there.”

“It would’ve been a lot if you hadn’t been there, but you were.”

“I was.”

It was silent for a moment, just eyes locked on each other, and I cleared my throat, “I’ve been parking in the lot and not the alley, and I haven’t walked alone once. Just like you said.”

His eyes crinkled like he was smiling, “Good girl.”

My mouth fell agape, and I couldn’t help my reaction to that, squirming just a little, breath hitching. He noticed, eyes widening for a second before falling to their normal spot. He placed his hands on my hips, looking me up and down.

“Who’re you wearing this for, love?” he asked, and I blushed hard. Telling him I had a date would ruin the mood for sure, right? Oh well, it didn’t matter. He didn’t own me, I could do what I wanted to do.

“I had a date.”

“Yeah, Sabrina told me. Was it nice?”

“What do you think?” I huffed out a laugh and he just stared, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“So what was it then? He wasn’t interesting enough for a girl like you?”

“Not nearly,” I pondered for a moment, “And he was a bad kisser.”

I hoped my words would make him jealous but his face was unreadable. “Bad kisser, huh? How?”

“How?” my brows furrowed. Did he really expect me to explain it to him? In detail? That was mortifying but he just stared like he always did and clicked his tongue.

“How.”

“Well…” I tried so hard not to stumble over my words, and he noticed it, I knew he did. “It was… it was too fast, but too slow somehow too. Like he wanted to rush it but even then he couldn’t keep up.”

“Keep going,” he encouraged when I paused, and I sighed, plowing on.

“His mouth was cold. Kisses aren’t supposed to be cold, you know? And it was so wet…”

“Isn’t it supposed to be wet?”

“Not the way his was.”

He grunted, scanning me over again, stopping on my rosy cheeks. “You nervous?”

“N-no,” I stuttered out, feeling scrutinized under his gaze.

“You are.” He sounded… amused? “Guess Miss Heartbreaker finally met her match, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I agreed before I could help myself.

“You gonna sit beside me or you gonna keep standing there? Not that I mind…” His hands squeezed my hips, holding me tight right in front of him.

“I’ll sit,” I nodded once and he let me go, turning away from me, leaving me cold. I inhaled deeply before slipping onto the stool next to him, and Sabrina smirked at me from the other side.

“Here you go, hot stuff,” she handed me what I usually got, a Malinu pineapple, and Ghost snorted.

“I’d think a girl like you would drink the hard stuff.”

I rolled my eyes, “A girl like me drinks whatever the hell she wants. I happen to like it sweet.”

“Yeah?” he mumbled, and the timbre in his voice turned my cheeks red. God, I had to stop letting that happen, I was embarrassing myself. I was not the kind of girl to turn into soup! I needed to remember who I was and… and…

His hand landed on my thigh and my train of thought got lost there. Something about remembering something?!

“You two look cozy,” Sabrina mused, small smile playing about her lips as she winked at us. I just laughed, small and meek, focusing in on the small circles his gloved thumb was rubbing into my skin. Jesus, act cool, I kept reminding myself but to no avail. I was like a girl who’d never been touched or something, desperate and whiny. I wanted him bad and I could tell it was written all over my face by the way Sabrina smirked at me. “You want another one, Ghost?” she gestured to his empty glass. He gave her a small nod and she got to making it.

It was then I realized something. She’d been texting me for about half an hour before I finally responded. Did that mean… did he wait that long, not even knowing if I would show up at all? Not even knowing if I would answer her? My breath hitched once again.

He lifted his mask to his nose so he could take a small sip from his new glass, and I tried so hard not to stare but I couldn’t manage. I wanted any glimpse of the mystery I could get.

“You’re staring.”

“I’m curious.”

“You’re nosy.”

I rolled my eyes, leaning a little closer to him, “You ever gonna show me what you look like under there, Ghosty?”

“No,” his word was flat, with a sense of finality, and I pouted. “Nobody has seen what’s under here, love.”

“Sounds like a lonely existence.”

“Loneliness is part of the job,” he shrugged, taking another sip before putting the mask down. I couldn’t help but notice how much nicer his words sounded when I could see the his lips forming around them.

“Is that why you keep coming back to see me? I make it better?”

“You’re being cocky again.”

“Answer me anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s why,” he grunted, and he was telling the truth. I smirked for a second, feeling like I got part of my power back. “You distract me.”

“So I’m just a distraction, then, huh?”

“No, you’re also a pain.”

I laughed, and we fell into easy conversation. Well, as easy as it can get with him. Sabrina joined in at times, making her little comments about us as always.

“The bar is closing soon,” I sighed as I noticed the clock on the wall.

“Yeah.”

“Guess that means this is it, huh? You’ll go back and I won’t see you again for a while?”

“Guess so.” I tried to mask my disappointment with a smile but he saw right through it. “Unless you want to go somewhere else?”

“Like where?”

“Well… we could go sit on the beach for a while. I’ve done that a few times when I’ve been here.”

I smiled, feeling like I was getting a peek inside the hard exterior. “Let’s do it!”

And we did. We walked the few blocks it took to get there, my heels eventually killing my feet so I took them off. He grabbed them from my hand and carried them for me, leaving no room for debate, and in minutes we were on the sand. He found a bench for us to sit on, brushing the sand off of it for me.

“Thanks,” I hummed as I settled in, and he plopped down as gracefully as a man his size could beside me. He grunted in response, as usual.

“Nice night,” he commented after a moment of silence.

“A little cool,” I shrugged, rubbing my arms swiftly to warm myself up.

“I bet it is, in that dress.”

I rolled my eyes, “What’s wrong with my dress?”

“It’s just clear what your intentions for that date were before you realized he was a loser.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. I know you’ve been thinking about me. I know that wouldn’t have stopped you.”

My breath caught in my throat. What an absolute asshole.

“Who’s cocky now?” I huffed, “I have not been thinking about you.”

“Liar.”

My eyes shot up, “You’re the one who keeps coming back for more. I live here. I work here. I’m not choosing this, you are.”

“I never said I don’t think about you,” his voice was low. “I just said you think about me, and you’re trying real hard to deny it.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever.”

“Gotta keep that man eating reputation up, huh? You hate that I see right through you.”

“I didn’t come here to be criticized.”

“I’m not criticizing you.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Talking.”

I turned away from him, pulling my knees to my chest, exposing my ass to the world but I didn’t have a care to give. He slipped his jacket off, though, draping it over me, protecting my modesty and warming me up. It was the same one from the very first time I saw him. “Thank you.”

“Do you ever worry that all that teasing you do is gonna piss the wrong person off? Seems like it already has a time or two.”

“I’ve told you before, I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can, darlin’. Just wondering why you do it is all.”

“I don’t wanna be psychoanalyzed.”

“I’m not psychoanalyzing, I’m asking.”

I thought for a moment, “You know? I don’t have an answer for you.” He just stared. “You’ve got your secrets, and I’ve got mine.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“When you open up some, though, I’ll be happy to spill my guts about what daddy and mommy did to make me this way.”

He let out a light chuckle, and I loved the sound of it. The way it sounded like a secret because he so seldom let it out.

“One day a long time from now, we’ll make it a date.”

As his words settled in, I realized I couldn’t wait for that day to come.

[vickyvicarious]

favorite part of the wedding?

Ough, that's a tough question... There are so many to choose from. Things like the communication between them. The way he is so changed and weakened by his experiences and Mina responds with nothing but utmost and eager love, even knowing the difficulties still to come. The incredible gestures ("for my seal I used my wedding ring. Then I kissed it and showed it to my husband") and declarations ("he would go through all the past again to win it, if need be") of love.

...I think, for me, what it comes down to most is the trust underpinning all of this, and the way they both demonstrate and emphasize that to one another. Of course, it comes hand in hand with the love, but it shows such a sort of ease in their love. Their love isn't some brand new rush of feelings and endorphins. It's something they've had time to settle into. And for all that they are still so eager and overwhelmed, it's also... comfortable. It has such a solid foundation.

I do believe the dear soul thought I might be jealous lest my poor dear should have fallen in love with any other girl. The idea of my being jealous about Jonathan!

Mina feels a little thrill of joy at the reassurance, sure, but she never felt any real need for it.

'Wilhelmina'—I knew then that he was in deadly earnest, for he has never called me by that name since he asked me to marry him—'you know, dear, my ideas of the trust between husband and wife: there should be no secret, no concealment.

Jonathan strongly believes in a foundation of trust and communication in a relationship. He acts upon this belief, finding a balance between his fears and wish to avoid the matter, and his desire to give her all she wants and live up to his ideals. Giving her the diary is above all else, a huge show of trust. He entrusts her with his sanity, his soul, his past. He trusts her to be silent if she reads it; he trusts her enough to ask her not to read it.

Then I kissed it and showed it to my husband, and told him that I would keep it so, and then it would be an outward and visible sign for us all our lives that we trusted each other; that I would never open it unless it were for his own dear sake or for the sake of some stern duty.

She trusts him in return with a visible proof that she has not and will not read it unless it's necessary to do so. She trusts him enough to resist every urge to learn more or to understand the what and the why of his absence, the very thing that has been terrifying her for so long now.

I could only tell him that I was the happiest woman in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to give him except myself, my life, and my trust, and that with these went my love and duty for all the days of my life. And, my dear, when he kissed me, and drew me to him with his poor weak hands, it was like a very solemn pledge between us….

When he responds to her gesture with a declaration that he would go through the past again for her sake, she returns with a promise for the future. One that once again emphasizes the trust she has in him - even before love or duty, she promises to always give him her trust. And the kiss he gives her seals this pledge between the two of them; he is returning the same promise. His self, his life, his trust - and with those, his love and duty.

They are so deeply, deeply in love. They are such a good team, so devoted, doing their utmost to support one another. They communicate beautifully. And supporting all of that is how much trust they have in one another.