#and also the story would have been more sad

[k3n-dyll]

||Men, minors, and ageless DNI

CW: 18+, wlw, fem!reader, pure smut, oral (r!recieving), fingering (r!recieving), cheating, arranged marriage mentioned, southern accent, Abby is implied to be a criminal for like a second, getting caught Word Count: 1,186 || Masterlist || Divider creds || Palestine Links

Notes ☆ Some 1800s cowgirl Abby smut to hold y'all over while I get the similarly set series started (I'm being nitpicky about my writing). Also, didn't mean for this to be long lol

➳ If you allow yourself to linger on the thought for a moment - to do a bit of mental gymnastics for the sake of getting this nagging feeling of guilt and shame to subside - this really isn't your fault.

Truly. It isn't. It's theirs.

You weren't the one that wanted to marry, and you sure as hell wouldn't have chosen this suitor of all of them. That was your pious father. Good intentions aside, he was the one that confined you to this life.

And your sorry excuse for a husband, well, he took the other half of the blame. He's never home, and when he is the man always seems to have more important things to do. Not that you really want his attention anyway, but still, it'd be nice to at least speak to the person you're forced to live with. Aside from when he wants to be inside of you, of course.

If not for them you wouldn't even be here.

If only your father hadn't mettled with your marriage status - let you become some sort of spinster instead. If your scraggly bearded husband had simply kept his shady business dealings in the back of a bar instead of inviting them to his home - her large, calloused hands wouldn't be caught so tightly around your hips. You wouldn't be sitting in the head chair of the office you weren't technically allowed to be in, but the one you had renovated, all the same, eyeing the perpetually unfinished paperwork on his desk in a sad attempt to keep yourself grounded.

"You taste so fuckin' good, y'know that?"

Abby's voice and the warm, wet feeling of her tongue dragging along your slit bring you out of your own head, hips bucking up slightly at the contact you've been all but whining for, while she just nipped and kissed at your inner thighs. You look down at the blonde positioned snugly between your legs with a furrowed brow, trying your best to seem disapproving though the moans you let out tell a different story.

Who does she think she is? Popping up at your front door in the middle of the day, knowing damn well your husband wasn't home from work. This had only happened a few times before and even so, you knew why she'd come over the moment you saw the smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips when you confirmed that the man of the house was out for the day.

She wanted to fuck you in his office this time. Defile the sacred workplace of the man she calls a "friend" simply to make you uncomfortable.

Her piercing blues gaze right back into your eyes, and while half her face is hidden underneath the fabric of your skirts, you can tell that smug smile is back by the way her eyes crinkle right before they close.

It's the last you see of her freckled face before your head is tossed back in pleasure, sinful moans flooding from your parted lips as she laps at your cunt. No amount of guilt or shame would ever make you feel low enough to tell her to stop - not when her tongue makes you squirm and twitch in ways your betrothed could only ever dream of doing.

Abby never fails to make herself seem like a woman starved, messily licking and sucking at your pulsing, puffy clit, slurping you up as if you were her first and last ever meal on this Earth.

And she'd be damned if she let you breathe for even a second.

She wants to hear you gasping, gulping for air before she allows herself to pull away and she does more even then. Pushing through a sore jaw and aching fingers without complaint for as long as you could handle it.

"A-Abby... can't take much more" You whine, your thighs squeezing onto either side of her flushed face as you gently palm at the top of her head.

A high-pitched whine escapes your throat at the curl of the two thick fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, a low, amused growl coming from Abby at the sound.

"Aw, c'mon baby. Y'got another one in there for me, don't you? You and I both know you won't get to feel this good for a long while once I'm gone" she speaks in that soft, honey-like tone that makes you weak in the knees. The gentle southern drawl laced within her every syllable sending shivers through your body at the sound alone. Looking down at her is a mistake you never fail to make in this circumstance. She knows what a simple look from her can do to you and she takes advantage of it without remorse, chuckling as she watches you nod in response.

"Atta girl" She lands a quick smack on your thigh before diving back into you, a concoction of spit and slick spilling down her chin and wetting the inner fabrics of your skirt, the only sound to accompany the smacking and sucking against your pussy being your whorish cries.

Your breathing becomes quicker and more shallow when you're close. Eyes glazing over as your jaw slacks, brows knitted together in desperation for another orgasm. Your tells are so predictable, yet so incredibly delicious to Abby. This is a state only she gets to see you in. Not that you've ever confirmed it aloud for her but it's clear to her that the pompous ass you're married to can't even make you cum.

"Say it, darlin'. C'mon, you know what I wanna hear" Abby growls, popping up from underneath your skirt, detaching her lips from around your clit, and replacing them with her thumb just to speak. Just to taunt you. You do know what she wants to hear, and part of you wants to roll your eyes at the thought. Maybe you would have if your head wasn't so blank. If you weren't so aware that she'd stop pumping her fingers inside of you completely if you didn't give her the satisfaction, maybe you would be so bold as to give her attitude.

"Only you - fuck! Only you can make me feel like this"

Abby chuckles

"Oh, I know, sweet thing. Now cum for me"

Your orgasm is blinding and loud. So much so that you don't even hear the front door open from downstairs. Nor do you hear the footsteps that follow, too occupied with rutting yourself onto her fingers, gushing with each snap of your hips. Abby is just as oblivious, lifting up from her place between your thighs to crash her lips onto yours, too focused on wanting you to taste yourself on her tongue to even notice the jingling office door doorknob.

It's only when you both hear the old door begin slowly creaking open that your attention is snatched from one another, expressions shifting from ones of lust and satisfaction to pure horror as you both make eye contact with the twisted-up, angry face of the man you had just slandered aloud. Your husband. Back home early from work

Shit.

Thanks for reading ☆ Reblogs appreciated

Taglist: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery

[booksandwillowtrees]

I don't see why people are upset at the IH/TBK for how the ratgrinders ended up. They TRIED to redeem and connect with the RG it never panned out. They are playing a game and telling a story. If a path doesn't pan out they have to move on.

If TBK try and fail to connect with the RG and then the world is going to end in 1 hour, they might kill them (not always permanent btw!) in pursuit of stopping the end of the world. And you know what. They might be assholes about it, because the RG are also assholes about it. Like IDK. I like the RG. But also like if you're upset when the performers are excited about having defeated their enemies in a battle-game-based show, like I feel like you're setting yourself up for disappointment.

[knavesflames]

Hey knavesflames. New follower here.

Hope you are having a great day.

This is my first time ever requesting a writing and I know you could cook up a wonderful piece with it.

So basically got this idea after listening to Mitski's Washing Machine Heart (yes my life is mitski coded). So anyways, the prompt goes like how Arlecchino views the reader as a replacement for the Clervie, something along those lines (and the lyrics of the above mentioned song). All three of them were also living together in the House of Hearth during the reign of the previous Knave (I forgot her name) who Arlecchino defeated.

(I don't know if anyone else have come up with this idea).

Would love to see an angst filled story with this.

Thank you!!!!!

P.S - love your writings💙

Hello! My day is fine thank you:) the fact you trust me to cook here made me smile very much, I hope I cooked enough. Thank you for liking my stuff!!

Contents: angst, non graphic moment of sex that just turns sad as hell, arlecchino sharpen urself up

Word count: 2873

Fic under the cut:D

She was different from you and Clervie. You and Clervie were very similar, most of the kids called you twins. Happy, cheerful, protective, always talking to the other children. Peruere was not like that. She was reserved, almost cold-blooded, quiet. It quickly became obvious she cared about you both when she would quietly invite you to watch her spider do something, or when she would catch three fish instead of one, because you and Clervie were simply too loud for one to stay still. You were a trio, one the entire House of the Hearth knew, and ‘Mother’ knew. She let you all be friends, for now. But it didn’t mean she stopped punishing Clervie. If anything, she was punished more. Often coming back to your room (where you all mostly sat, because your room was the biggest) with shaky hands and a tight lipped smile after having a photo frame thrown at her, or a red face where ‘Mother’ had slapped her. Or, as she got older, even worse, when she would come back with cuts and scrapes that you and Peruere would bandage for her silently. You learned that making the bandages look pretty cheered her up, despite her always having an outward smile. And when she opened the window that night, promising that you’d all go to Snezhnaya and see the dancing lights in the sky, something in Peruere changed that day.

She became more protective, more cautious of things.. when Clervie was involved. As you entered your teenage years, you would often come back to your room, devoid of people, only to hear two people giggling in the next one. You were still a trio, you always had been and always will be. But growing up means indulging in feelings, and they seemed to have more feelings for each other than for you. They were not cruel, no. They did not mean for it to be this way. They invited you out on walks and you caught fish together like usual, but it just felt.. different. The small jokes they made, clearly private jokes you didn’t and wouldn’t understand did not go unnoticed. Neither did the small pit of loneliness that began growing inside of you. You were jealous, yes. Your two best (and only) friends seemed to like each other more than they liked you, if only in a romantic sense, and they let it cloud them when they were with you too. A bitter person, you are not, so you endured it. You still loved and cared for both of them (especially Peruere, but you refused to let Clervie feel the way you felt then) and wanted the best for them, you just wished that for a second, things could go back to the way they were.

But they didn’t. Especially not when you and Peruere stood frozen over Clervie’s fallen body, both of you trembling and breathing fitfully. ‘Mother’’s fight to be king has finally infiltrated your friendship, and Clervie was the one to fall. With Peruere holding the blade, you were convinced you’re next, with your eyes widened and filled with unshed tears (though, the past couple of years, all of your tears have been unshed).

“Peruere, please don’t.”

“I’m going to murder her.”

“..who?”

“Mother.”

“Moth-..”

Your voice trails off as it shakes, your ears thoroughly listening to Peruere’s admittance of her plan, of the future matricide she did in fact go on to commit. You were the one to bury Clervie and place lumidouce bells around her body, closing her eyes and placing the small teddies you three had of each other next to her. Arlecchino was the one who avenged her, brutally murdering her before quickly being imprisoned.

Eventually, after taking Crucabena’s place as the Knave, after becoming ‘Father’, changing her name to Arlecchino, you both began dating. A drunken night turned into dating and living together. Perhaps it was grief stricken, perhaps she really did feel that type of affection for you, the way you have for her for so long. The way you have silently yearned for her has not gone unnoticed by the people around you. What is also noticed, what has been noticed since the day you met Clervie, is your similarities. You both are very similar, you always have been. Kind, cheerful, you both even say the same things, enjoy the same foods. Most used to joke that you were secretly twins, you and Arlecchino know that, but the joke came to an end when Clervie met hers. It was never spoken of again, and neither was she. Barely, anyway. Years went past, and it seemed both of you were happy in the relationship you both had carved from tragedy. Though, you ignored the niggling feeling in your chest when Arlecchino would come home and surprise you with a bouquet of flowers. It wasn’t the fact you received flowers, no, that made your heart warm. It was about which flowers and what she said along with it.

“I saw some lumidouce bells as I walked home. Here, dear, your favourite.”

The phrase alone is all good and well, but.. they are not your favourite flowers. They never have been. You have always preferred lakelight lilies, and she should have known that after over a decade knowing you. Lumidouce bells were the favourite of Clervie, not you. The strange feeling in your chest swells with every new bouquet you receive, until receiving flowers is no longer a pleasant thing. The feeling is pushed back again and again, until she comes home one evening, the keys jingling against the door. The familiar sound of the paper around the bouquet is audible again, and you feel your stomach sink slightly when you see the familiar lumidouce bells.

“Look what the florist had today, dear.”

“So they did. Thank you, love.”

You take them with a small lump in your throat and a tight smile, delicately placing them in water and giving one a small pat, a habit you picked up many years ago as a nod to your best friend. Your mind wanders, though, and eventually, you bite the bullet and ask.

“Did they have any lakelight lilies?”

“They always do. Why?”

You wonder why she doesn’t buy those instead.

“No, no reason. They’re pretty, don’t you think?”

You are not talking about the flowers when you ask this, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and smiling softly. She glances up with the faintest smile of her own before continuing to undo her heels, the heels you know she has killed many with.

“Not as pretty as lumidouce bells, in my opinion.”

You have to turn swiftly to hide the twist of your expression, the hurt that flashes over it as you grit your teeth together so hard they should have turned to dust already. You manage out an “alright” before beelining towards the kitchen to make dinner. You don’t even know if she knew you were not asking about the appearance of the flowers, if she understood you were asking about your own, to try to find some affirmation in the sea of self loathing. It stung nonetheless, but you realise you cannot be angry if you didn’t say it outright. Still, the thought lingers, eating away at you as you zone out, letting your hands chop the carrot too finely before shaking yourself out of it. You can’t stay upset for long though, when her hands snake around you and she praises you for your food making skills, murmuring that it smells good. So, the thought is forgotten, left behind for a night of overthinking that will inevitably come. For now, though, for tonight, you enjoy dinner. Steak tartare, (you scrapped the carrot), laughing lightly when she draws an ‘x’ over it with sauce to match her eyes. The rest of the evening goes the way all of your evenings go. Contentedly, quietly. She agreed long ago to not bring Fatui doings into the home. You grew up with that and you don’t want to deal with that again, which she respects, so, you don’t speak about work, a relief for both you and her. You watch a movie, a boring movie neither of you really like, that leads to channelling the inner teenager and making out on the sofa. You can’t hide the giggle that escapes you when she lifts you up, carrying you and placing you on the bed before proceeding to undress you. Before long, you’re naked, moaning her name softly in pleasure, both names of hers. ‘Peruere’ is reserved only for this, only for moments of intimacy or when you’re alone. In return, she loves to whisper sweet nothings against the shell of your ear, enjoying the way your body squirms against her.

“It’s good. Please keep going.”

“Good girl. You’re so pretty, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, Clervie.”

Oh.. oh. You freeze. She doesn’t. Despite her movements still continuing, the pleasure is gone as quickly as it came and your ears begin to ring as you pale. A shaky hand comes to her chest, pushing her away as you shake your head, swallowing hard.

“Stop. Stop it. I don’t want—“

She stops immediately, a concerned look on her face. Her hand moves to comfort you, to ask what’s wrong but your own hand slaps hers away gently.

“What…? What happened?”

The way you sit up, your once pink cheeks now pale, your eyes wide and your breathing shallow concerns her. When you don’t speak, she stays silent, staring at you as your mouth opens and closes. You know you heard her right, it was clearer than the sky in Fontaine during June. The worst part is that she doesn’t even realise she’s done it. Your stomach is twisting, your chest aching harder than it has in years as you finally manage to speak.

“You called me by her name.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

When you think about everything in hindsight, the way she (accidental or not is still hard to tell) indirectly said you weren’t pretty earlier with the flowers, and now, during sex of all things, told you that you were the prettiest girl she had ever seen, only to call you by someone else’s name makes you realise it wasn’t you she was talking to at all. She wasn’t calling you pretty, she was calling Clervie pretty. And she wasn't thinking about you at all. Suddenly, the fact you’re naked becomes all too apparent and your hands clutch at the various blankets, covering yourself out of insecurity. A wave of nausea fills you for a second before you speak again.

“I’m not her. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“I was naked underneath you and you were not even thinking of me.”

“I was, I..”

How many times has she thought about Clervie while having sex with you? How many times has she wished it was Clervie underneath her instead? Your brain begins a whirlwind of thoughts, barely giving each one time to form before another one comes. Then, the words spill out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, your shaky, quiet voice echoing the room and cutting through the awkward tension.

“Do you wish it was me that died instead of her? Do you even know me at all?”

“Of course I know you.”

She didn’t answer the first question, it dawns on you. It hurts too much to bring it up again, not when you know how her avoidance of the question is an affirmative.

“What is my favourite flower, Peruere?”

Her true name comes out of your mouth in what seems to be an attempt at a sneer, but ends up as a sad whisper, your voice quivering with the force of your contained tears. Arlecchino’s own voice is quiet, softer than it usually is.

“Lumidouce bells.”

“No.”

“You loved them as a child, you had a necklace—“

“No, Clervie had a necklace. I like lakelight lilies.”

Arlecchino’s own face pales slightly at the memory of your earlier question. The way your face looked at her with your crooked smile that held that slight tinge of hope, only for you to immediately turn (not before your face fell, she noticed that, but didn’t understand) and walk away. She goes to speak, but you cut her off, a tearful, small voice that’s so unlike you.

“When is my birthday?”

“April 23rd.”

“That is Clervie’s birthday. My birthday is in December.”

“But—“

“You don’t think I’m pretty. You think she is pretty. You have not moved on, you still love her. You— you do not love me and you do not know me at all.”

The silence that follows confirms everything, and a choked sob fills the air at the newfound knowledge. You let your head fall to your knees, quiet sobs wracking your frame as Arlecchino sits beside you, a hand hovering over your back.

“My dear.”

“Do not call me such a thing, Peruere. Not when it is not me you wish to be saying it to. Say my name. Say my name, and tell me you love me and mean it.”

“You must take a breath.”

She does not say it and your heart shatters.

“You do not say it because you can’t. You did not ever love me, you loved her. I am the closest thing you can get to her, so you settled for me and you live your life pretending I am her. What is it, exactly, about me that isn’t good enough compared to her? Why not me?”

“I don’t know. You are wonderful.”

“Yet I am not enough.”

“You are.”

“Not to you.”

The utter heartbreak and anguish in your voice rips through Arlecchino’s body. Not many things get to her like this but her best friend lover crying like this, the insecurity and shame radiating off of her body is heartbreaking to her and she feels the guilt rise in her stomach. You have your head buried into the blankets as your body wracks with soft cries. Being stabbed would hurt less than this, you think. Hurt less than being used to live in a fantasy where Clervie didn’t die.

“Should I go for a walk?”

“Yes, go.”

How enthusiastic your response was, she wonders. Though, she knows what she has done even without meaning to do it. She stands up, clothing herself silently before slipping out of the room. You hear her feet padding down the hall, and eventually her leaving the house and her softly muttering to herself as she passes the window. You want to hate her, you want to punch her and throw all of the flowers out of the window. At the same time, you can’t even bring yourself to think of looking in the mirror and seeing the face your girlfriend does not find pretty. Nor can you bring yourself to walk to your living room and find a picture of the face your girlfriend does find pretty. All you can bring yourself to do is dress yourself in the first clothes you can find before letting yourself fall back into bed, sniffling with a look of misery on your face. You wonder when she’s coming back. You wonder if she’s coming back at all. You wonder if you care. You do, but you wish you didn’t. You wish you didn’t love her the way she loves Clervie. Or, rather, you wish she loved you the way she loves Clervie.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 39)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap,

Not long after Siobhan had left Amanda's house with the evidence she needed, she went to see her brother who was surprised to see her again so soon.

"You are not going to believe what I just found out," Siobhan said, her voice anxious and strained as soon as Cillian opened the door. "The reason why you were acting like you were completely out of it that night had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with Amanda and Danielle." 

"What are you talking about?" Cillian asked, his brows furrowing in confusion and Siobhan quickly pulled out her phone and showed Cillian the recording.

"Amanda spiked your drink. But it was Danielle's idea ," Siobhan told him, her voice filled with anger and worry.

Cillian's eyes widened in shock as he listened to the recording of Amanda and Danielle admitting to their plan. "What the fuck?" he whispered, his voice barely audible as he listened to the sound of his ex-wife's voice on the recording.

Siobhan nodded solemnly, her own anger still simmering just below the surface. "Yeah, I know," she said, handing him the phone so that he could listen for himself.

"I couldn't believe it at first either, but it's all there on tape. I was so angry when I heard them confessing to their plan that I could hardly see straight. I mean, what they did was not only illegal, but it was also incredibly dangerous. It's a miracle that something worse didn't happen to you."

Cillian listened to the recording for the second time with a growing sense of shock and disbelief. As he listened to Amanda and Danielle's voices admitting to their plot, his head spun with a mixture of anger, confusion, and hurt.

How could they have done something so dangerous, so reckless? He knew he had made mistakes in the past, but this was on a whole new level.

"I-I don't understand," Cillian stammered, handing the phone back to Siobhan as he sank down onto the couch. "Why would they do something like this?"

Siobhan shook her head, her own anger still evident in her eyes. "I don't know, Cillian," she admitted, her voice laced with frustration. "I really don't.

It's just so out of character for them, especially Amanda. I mean, she's always been a bit vindictive, but this is just...," Siobhan's voice trailed off as she paced back and forth in front of the coffee table, her mind racing with a mix of anger and concern.

"Amanda was pregnant," Cillian  suddenly blurted out, his voice barely a whisper as he looked up at Siobhan with a mixture of shame and sadness.

"What?" Siobhan asked, stopping in her tracks as she looked at her brother in shock. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Cillian shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts. "Because it was irrelevant. She did not want to have children and, to tell you the truth, with Y/N and Mara, I was glad that she didn't,"  Cillian continued, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

Siobhan gazed at her brother with a mixture of empathy and sadness. She never fully understood his relationship with Amanda, or why he ended so abruptly, but she knew that it had been difficult for him. 

"When I left Amanda, she knew that I left her for Y/N but she thought that I did this simply because she gave me something that Amanda wouldn't, namely a family," Cillian  admitted as Siobhan looked at him with a troubled expression, unsure of what to say next.

"But that's not why you left Amanda, is it?"  Siobhan asked gently, sensing that there was more to the story.

Cillian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No, it's not. I left Amanda because I wasn't happy with her, and when I spent more time with Y/N, I realised that I was actually in love with her. I probably had been for quite some time, but that relationship with Y/N was never something I wanted to pursue because, well, I am twice her age and it's not exactly good for my career,"  Cillian confessed, the guilt evident in his voice.

"But you no longer care?" Siobhan confirmed, looking at the jewelry box that was still sitting on Cillian's coffee table, containing the engagement ring he had bought for you. 

"No, I don't. I just want to be with Y/N and Mara. I want us to live together, and I want Max to visit us and stay with us whenever possible," Cillian said, looking Siobhan directly in the eyes. 

"Well, then do what you had planned to do, Cills. Propose to her," Siobhan  encouraged her brother, her voice laced with a mix of excitement and urgency.

Cillian looked at her with a small, grateful smile. "I want to. You have no idea how much I want to," he admitted, his gaze drifting towards the box on the coffee table once more. "But maybe now is not the right time. She doesn't even want to live with me, so I doubt that she would actually say 'yes'," Cillian said, his voice resigned as he looked down at his hands.

Siobhan's face softened as she looked at her brother. She knew that he had been struggling with his feelings for you, torn between what he wanted and what he thought was best for you. And now, after everything that had happened in the past few days, it was clear that his relationship with you was on shaky ground.

"Cillian, you need to talk to her anyway," Siobhan said after a moment of silence. "Maybe tell her what happened and then tell her what it is that you want," she suggested and Cillian nodded, knowing that she was right but, when he arrived at your house an hour later  , his heart felt heavy in his chest.

When you opened the front door, you were surprised to see him, thinking that you made it clear enough for him to understand that you needed some space after what ensued between him and Amanda.  It caught you off guard to see him at your doorstep, but Mara's face lit up when she saw him, reaching her little arms out towards him.

"Would you like to come in?" you asked as, despite your initial apprahension, you opened the door wider and invited him inside. 

"Yes, if that's okay?" Cillian said and, reluctantly, you nodded.

 Cillian smiled faintly as he walked inside and took Mara from your arms, kissing her on the cheek before setting her down on the floor. He glanced around the living room, taking in the cozy and welcoming atmosphere. You had rearranged things that day and he knew that this was because of him. 

When something bothered you, you occupied yourself with what some might call nesting and you certainly did exactly that.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he said, finally meeting your eyes.

You watched him warily, unsure of what to make of his sudden appearance.

"No, it's fine. Although you should have called first," you said, hugging your arms around yourself. You could feel a cold draft from outside, making you shiver involuntarily.

"I know, it's just...," he began to stammer before cutting straight to the chase  . "I need to tell you something. It's about that night - at the party..."

As he trailed off, you couldn't help but feel a sinking feeling in your stomach. You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

"You did sleep with her didn't you?" you interrupted  , your voice hollow as you looked at him with a mixture of hurt and anger but, much to your surprise, Cillian quickly shook his head.

"No, of course not! But I did kiss her and she did want to take this further and, after she spiked my drink, I couldn't think straight Y/N. I am sorry,"  he explained, looking at you with regret in his eyes.

"She what?" you asked when you heard that Amanda had spiked his drink. You were shocked and confused by the news and felt a mix of emotions, including anger and hurt, well up within you. "Jesus Cillian, how do you know?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to process this new information.

Cillian looked at you with a mixture of guilt and regret written all over his face. "Siobhan got her to admit it after she suspected that something was wrong. I only had two beers that night and I shouldn't have been of my face like that,"  Cillian continued, his voice filled with remorse.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized that Cillian hadn't cheated on you per se, but the fact that she had spiked his drink was still deeply concerning.

"Why would she do something like that?" you wondered aloud, a frown furrowing your brow.

"She was angry and bitter about our break-up. I should have seen it coming," Cillian replied, letting out a sigh.  "But I didn't and now, well, I mean look at us. I am sorry Y/N," he told you  , his voice laced with regret.

You looked at him for a long moment, unsure of what to say or do. On one hand, you wanted to yell at him, demand to know why he had let this happen in the first place. But on the other hand, you knew that he had been weak in that moment, that he was not thinking clearly and the fact that he couldn't think clearly was not his fault.  Amanda's actions had consequences, and Cillian was suffering the brunt of it.

"It's not your fault," you eventually said, your voice soft as you looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and compassion. "You didn't know what was happening."

Cillian nodded, letting out a sigh as he looked at you with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "So you forgive me?"  Cillian asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked at you with a mixture of hope and fear in his eyes. 

"Yes  , I forgive you," you told him, a small smile touching your lips as you looked back at him. It was the truth - you did forgive him. You understood that he hadn't intended for any of this to happen.

You could tell that he was hurting, that the guilt was heavy on his shoulders. He had made a mistake, but it wasn't something irreparable. At least, not if you both were willing to work through it.

"But that doesn't mean that I'm okay with what happened. I'm not. I can't just forget about it overnight," you continued, wanting to make sure that Cillian understood where you were coming from.

"I know, I understand. And I won't ask you to forget about it. I just want you to know how sorry I am and that I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you," Cillian said, taking a step towards you as he reached out to take your hand in his.

"That's not what I meant Cillian. I meant that Amanda needs to be charged with assault. I can't forget that this happened not because of what you did, but because of what she did," you said with determination while taking his hands  in yours.

Cillian's expression changed, and he knew that you were right. He let out a deep sigh and nodded. "Okay, I'll talk to Siobhan about it," Cillian replied, relieved that you weren't holding him solely responsible for the situation.

As the night went on, Cillian and you sat on the couch, holding hands, and talked about everything that had happened. He stayed for a while, cooked dinner for you and put Mara to bed.

It was a peaceful night, and you could feel the tension between you two slowly dissipating.

Being tired from the day's events, Cillian rested his head on your stomach as you were both laying on the couch, watching the Big Bang Theory and you ran your fingers through his hair .

Cillian closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of your fingers gently massaging his scalp.  The warmth of your body, the sound of your steady heartbeat, and the softness of your touch brought him a sense of comfort that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Despite the chaos that had unfolded between you and him, he was grateful for this moment of peace. It was a reminder that you were still here, still willing to give him a chance, and still capable of forgiveness.

As you continued to run your fingers through his hair, Cillian couldn't help but feel a surge of emotions welling up inside of him.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the sound of the TV.

You looked down at him, a small smile touching your lips as you looked back into his eyes.

"I love you too, Cillian," you replied, your voice soft as you leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"I just can't imagine a life without you and Mara, Y/N.  I want us to be a proper family, you know," Cillian murmured against your lips, his voice earnest and sincere.

"I want that too, Cillian. More than anything," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion as you felt the familiar warmth spread through your body. You had missed this feeling, the feeling of being truly seen and appreciated by someone who meant so much to you and, yet, what he said next, caught you off guard completely. 

"Then marry me, Y/N," Cillian said, looking up at you with eyes filled with hope and excitement while you gasped in shock, unsure about how to respond.

You looked down at him, your mind racing as you tried to process his words. You loved Cillian, there was no doubt about that, but the idea of getting married right now after all that had happened between you, Cillian and your families made you feel uneasy.

"Are you being serious?" you asked  , your voice barely above a whisper as you looked down at Cillian, trying to gauge his expression.

Cillian's face was open and earnest, his eyes shining with hope and excitement. "Yes, I am being serious. You are the only woman I will ever want," he replied, his voice filled with conviction.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion rising up within you. You had always imagined getting married and starting a family, but the reality of it seemed so far away. You did not feel ready for this journey just yet and you most certainly still needed time to process the way your new life was unfolding. Being a mother was exciting but also daunting at your age and you couldn't possibly think about making yet another life changing decision so soon. 

"I-I don't know what to say, Cillian," you stammered, your voice trembling as you looked down at him with a mixture of confusion and fear. "I love you, I do, but I'm just not sure if I'm ready."

Cillian's face fell, and you could see the disappointment and hurt in his eyes. He knew that this was a possibility, but he had hoped that you would say yes, despite the recent events and the current state of your relationship.

"It's okay, Y/N. I understand," Cillian replied, his voice laced with disappointment and hurt. You could tell that he was trying to keep his emotions in check, but you could see the pain in his eyes as he looked up at you.

"I should probably head home. It's getting late," Cillian said after a moment, and you nodded, feeling a pang of sadness in your chest as he pulled away from you.

"Okay, I'll walk you out," you replied, getting up from the couch and following him to the front door.

As you walked together in silence, you couldn't help but feel a sense of uncertainty about your relationship with Cillian. You loved him, and you wanted to be with him, but the idea of getting married and starting a family was a huge commitment, and one that you weren't sure you were ready for.

You had only been together for a few months, and already, so much had happened between you.

You opened the front door, the cool air of the night rushing in to greet you as you stepped outside. 

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for the night?" you asked, seeing that you did not want him to leave like this but, unsurprisingly, he shook his head.

"No, I will go," he  said, his eyes unreadable as he looked at you.

You sighed, feeling a sense of disappointment and sadness wash over you as you looked into his eyes. Despite everything that had happened between you, you still wanted him to stay.  You wanted to spend the night with him, to feel his arms around you, and to forget about the chaos that was currently surrounding you. But you knew that you couldn't. Not right now. You said 'no' and now you had to give him time to digest your answer. 

Note: What do you think Cillian and Y/N should do now?

Tags:

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@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

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[thesunpersists]

(character ask) 15. What's your favorite ship for Haymitch?

thank you @thesweetnessofspring!! 🧚🏻

send me something for character ask game

Okay, I thought about it for too long. So, here is a stream of consciousness answer based on canon, and I would love to hear what everyone else thinks-- AU or otherwise!

I don’t really like Haymitch and Effie as a romantic couple. I do think that they care more for each other than they outwardly show, but their dynamic is much more compelling as begrudging coworkers. 

Maysilee or anyone we know from the Second Quarter Quell generation didn’t sit right either since we know he had a girlfriend at the time he was reaped. The whole thing is so tragic that I had to move on before I got too sad.

Hazelle (who is also QQ generation I guess) is such a strong and resilient character, and I can see her working well with Haymitch. The time she works as a housekeeper for Haymitch also coincides with the time that Haymitch must have been involved with some planning around the rebellion. I would love to read a fic where Hazelle picks up on something (a secret message, a phone call she accidentally picks up, anything 👀) and they bond over the secret they share.

Which would ultimately bring about the Gale question. Katniss always thinks of Haymitch as like her because he is from Seam but Gale seems to set Haymitch apart because he is a victor. It is intriguing to imagine how he must have felt like once his mom started working for Haymitch, and whether he would feel differently in the event of a romance. So, Hazelle takes the win for me, mainly because I liked where the story could take them and the implications for other characters! Plus a Seam-Seam couple as an adult would be different from the romances we got to see in canon!* *in canon so far because i am always holding on to the hope that SC will write another book & blow me away all over again

[rachey899]

Running Into Fire

A Luke and Matt sizeshifter short story, this story takes place immediately after 'Be the Hero'.

TW: Life threatening scenarios involving being trapped in a burning building, some swearing, mentions of self-hate and shame

Approx 4.2k words

“Come on dude please! This will be so good for your image!” Matt was pacing the living room practically giddy with excitement; he was shaking like a squirrel on caffeine.

Luke on the other hand was largely less enthused, mostly embarrassed, and deadly scared of revealing his unique abilities to anyone else, he’d already let too many people see what he was capable of in the last few months.

“Matt I can’t, I can’t just go around shifting for the whole world to see, you don’t get it.”

Matt raised his eyebrows, he wasn’t going to let this drop, it had been two weeks since the incident at the bank and Matt was convinced, he was now somewhat of a vigilante. Luke had used his size shifting abilities during a bank robbery, the robber had turned suicidal when it was clear there was no sign of escape and had set a bomb.

Luke, thinking quickly had shifted into his larger size of approximately 60 feet to smother the bomb and apprehend the criminal. The police had then discovered what was going on and promised Luke they would keep his secret, for which he was grateful.

Matt on the other hand was only convinced further that Luke should continue to use his powers for fighting crime.

“Honestly Luke what the hell is the point in having kickass superpowers if you aren’t ever gonna use them!”

“I’m not a superhero Matt, I’m a freak of nature and this has to be kept a secret.” Luke stood then, feeling his blood pressure rise with the feeling of anger, he didn’t want to fight with Matt, but he was becoming increasingly more frustrated by the minute.

Another reason Luke couldn’t rely on his own abilities, though he had some semblance of control to shift at will, his shifting was also controlled by his heightened emotions.

Feelings such as anger or stress could cause him to grow and feelings of sadness and exhaustion would make him shrink, all out of his control, if he didn’t have a handle on his emotions.

“I’ve kept your secret Luke, and I don’t plan on going around revealing your powers to the world, but I at least think you should be using them to save people.” Matt was firm, his arms crossed over his chest, all excitement of a child gone in an attempt to help his friend see his own potential.

“Fuck man you don’t seem to understand that if this gets out, people will come after me, either the general public who think I’m dangerous or the government who will see me as a science project. I won’t be helping anyone if I’m locked up in some government facility.” Luke pushed his fingers through his short brown locks.

“This isn’t like in the movies Matt, superheroes aren’t real, in real life freaks like me need to stay hidden, for our own protection and for the protection of others.” Sighing deeply, Luke finished his rant, he wasn’t usually a man of very many words, but he needed to get Matt to understand this.

“Fine, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” The tall blonde walked away from the conversation, it was clear they were not going to agree on this tonight, but he knew his friend and he knew that when push comes to shove, he would be the hero.

Luke fell back into the soft cushions of the couch, he didn’t feel like he’d won that, and he knew he hadn’t, but at least for now Matt would drop the issue and stop sketching potential superhero disguises for him.

Luke and Matt had known each other since they were in the first grade and had been thick as thieves since. When Lukes abilities made themselves known when he was six years old, he was sworn by his parents to keep it a secret even from his best friend, so it wasn’t until high school that Matt actually learned of Luke’s gift and even that had been by accident.

Luke had been stressed about a major test and feeling the tightness in his body and the push of shifting coursing through him all day, when the test was over, he had bolted into the forest that backed onto the school oval so he could shift.

He had not expected anyone to follow him, but he was grateful that it had been Matt and not someone else, though it had been a scary revelation for Matt he had quickly overcome his fears and was stoked to be in on the secret. Luke had felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders that he didn’t have to hide a huge part of who he was from his best friend.

Now some 10 years later, both of them in their mid-twenties and sharing an apartment in New York, still best friends and trying to lead a somewhat normal life, this had clearly grown boring for Matt though.

Matt was the more charismatic of the two where Luke was the quiet nerdy type, overly emotional and anxious as all hell, which didn’t bode well for him considering the nature of his abilities.

Luke’s biggest fear is still to lose control of his abilities and hurt someone he cares about, there had been way too many close calls throughout the course of his life so far and it was so easy to lose control. He couldn’t let that happen, and if he were to play the superhero then the probability of something going horribly wrong was much higher, he couldn’t risk it.

“Why can’t I just be fucking normal.” Luke sighed through gritted teeth; life would be so much simpler.

A loud explosion sounded nearby, shaking Luke from his self-depreciating thoughts, the crash could be felt like an earthquake through the floor and rattled the windows. Quickly jumping to the window, he could see flames coming from a nearby apartment building, only a block or two away, it looked as though a few cars had crashed into the building followed by an explosion.

Hearing the quick pads of feet down the hall he turned to see Matt had emerged with his shoes on and a hoodie over his pajama top.

“Oh, hell no.” Luke said, already knowing exactly what Matt was thinking.

“We will get there faster than the emergency services Luke, we have to go and help.” Matt was already heading for the door, his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m not doing it Matt; I won’t shift in front of all those people.”

Matt sighed turning away from him, clearly still either pissed or just disappointed in him, he opened the door as he spoke “I’m not asking you too, I’m going to go and help, whether you come with me or not, that’s what good people do.”

Matt closed the door behind him, and Luke turned his pale blue eyes skyward as if the ceiling might provide him with a reasonable excuse to stay in his apartment. Groaning loudly, he pushed off from the window to put his shoes on.

He wouldn’t let his friend go alone with the potential that he could and would recklessly put his own life in danger to help, he was the real hero after all, Luke was the coward.

Luke quickly raced down the two flights of stairs and chased after Matt who was already approaching the smoky scene. Now seeing things up close, it was clear that two cars had crashed into each other before rolling into the building and crashing into what must have been a gas pipe.

The six-story building was in flames, four of the six floors already engulfed with the fire rapidly escalating higher by the minute, many residents of the building were standing outside already disheveled and, in their nightwear, crying and hugging each other.

“Is everyone out? Has anyone called 911?” Matt was asking the crowd, a few people were on their phones already, presumably calling emergency services.

“No, there’s an elderly couple on the sixth floor, I can’t see them, there’s also a family with kids and I think a few others, I can’t see them anywhere they must be still inside, of god I wish they would hurry!” A stocky woman shouted, she had short, cropped hair and was clutching a small dog to her chest sobbing into his fur.

Matt nodded at the woman before running towards the entry way into the apartment, Luke followed after him grabbing his arm to pull him back.

“No fucking way Matt, there’s no way I let you go in there.” Matt tugged on his arm trying to shake Luke off of him, he had a sharp look in his hazel eyes.

“I’m not gonna just stand here and watch it burn, the firefighters are ten minutes away, they’ll be dead by then.”

“And you’ll be dead too, fuck!” Look shut his eyes tightly thinking of a way to get those people out, they couldn’t go up from the bottom, it was already unstable and engulfed by flame, they needed to go in from the top. He had a plan, but he didn’t like it.

“Damnit Matt, come with me, quickly!” He shouted at his friend pulling him around the corner and into the shadow of the neighboring building.

“We do this quickly okay, I’ll shift and let you in to the sixth floor, get the people to the window and I’ll carry them down and then we go before emergency services get here, got it?”

Without waiting for his friend to respond he quickly shot up to his 65-foot height, he pulled his hoodie over his face to hopefully hide his identity from onlookers, he then knelt down in front of his friend, laying his hand palm up for Matt to climb onto.

It never ceased to amaze Matt each time he saw his best friend grow into a literal giant, but there was no time to stare slack jawed, he quickly climbed on sitting with crossed legs in the center of the massive palm as it rose into the air.

With only a brief moment to hesitate, Luke carefully stepped out of the shadows of the building and rounded the corner, his footsteps quaked the ground below him and the multitude of gasps from the ground made him flinch. Ignoring the gawking stares, he went straight up to the building trying his best to keep his steps light lest he cause the unstable building to collapse.

At his impressive height of 65 feet, he stood eye level with the windows of the sixth floor, carefully and mindful of his small passenger he raised his hand up to the sixth floor, knocking one of the windows with the tip of his finger to break it and allow Matt to enter.

Once his hand was level with one of the windows, Matt stood and jumped through the open window, immediately shouting to anyone that might be there.

“If your still up here, shout out, make a noise, we need to get you out of here now!”

With nothing else to do but anxiously wait while the crowd of small people below him stared up at him in most likely fear, he fiddled with the edge of his hood and tried his best not to look at them.

He could feel their stares though, and the click of photographs being taken.

In the distance he could hear sirens and he cursed under his breathe.

“Come on Matt.” Luke muttered impatiently.

As if reading his mind, Matt made an appearance at the window, he had an elderly woman in a nightgown on his left with her arm over his shoulder for support and an elderly man on his right also leaning against him and coughing from the smoke in the air.

Luke raised his hand to the window, making it level and flush against the side of the building so it was easier for them to step onto, the woman looked up probably expecting to see a fireman and a ladder but instead was greeted with large blue eyes peering in.

She screamed bloody murder and clung to Matt, urging him to back away from the window.

“Ma’am it’s okay, he’s a friend, we are here to help I promise.” He assured her.

“M-monster!” She wailed, Luke’s heart skipped a beat at the word, he’d always referred to himself as a monster, a freak but never once had he heard someone cry that name at him before, not his family, not Matt, not even the frightened onlookers during the bank incident.

The word pierced through him, and he hesitated, he didn’t want to force them to do something they didn’t want to do, he knew what it felt like to literally put your life in someone else’s hands, and they didn’t know him and had no reason to trust him.

Matt rubbed the woman’s back soothingly, while the old man stood silently, his shirt pulled over his mouth so he could breathe easier, he stared at Luke as if calculating if it was worth the risk.

At that very moment Matt had just managed to calm down the old woman when there was more commotion behind him and soon a young woman with two young children, a little girl of around six years old and an older boy maybe ten, came into view of the window. The mother skidded in her tracks when she took in the scene before her, backing away towards the fiery hallway they had just come from.

“No wait!” Matt cried, quickly becoming frustrated with everyone’s hesitance towards his friend.

“Listen! This is Luke! He’s a friend, I swear, we only want to get you down from this building, you only have to trust him for one minute then I swear you can walk away!”

The mother and two children walked a little closer, but the old woman was firm in place.

“Do you want to wait for the fire fighters to get here and risk your lives while you wait or do you want to get down now!”

That was enough to convince the young mother and she skirted around the wailing woman, she then helped her children up onto the ledge and onto the awaiting palm, once seated in the center she held both her children close to her.

Luke raised his other hand as a sort of safety ledge before carefully pulling his hands away from the building and lowering the small family to the ground.

Another round of gasps erupted from the people around him and he kept his head tilted downwards in hopes that no one would get a good angle of his face. Once his hand was on the ground, he moved his other away from the family so they could step off easily, his eyes met the little girls, she reminded him so much of his own little sister when he was younger.

The young woman stood on shaky legs and pulled her children along with her, Luke had to suppress the automatic impulse to flinch from the feeling of small limbs tickling his sensitive palm. The little girl toddled after her mother and gave him a little wave, her other hand gripping a small brown bear to her chest.

“Thank you, Luke.” She said, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it, he nodded once to her before he addressed the growing crowd.

“I’m gonna stand up again.” He muttered, he knew his voice no matter how soft would carry and echo through the streets, he felt he at least owed them a little warning.

Then standing again, he raised his hand once more to the window ledge, the fire had entered the room now and the woman still stood shaking her head, now however the old man was at her side also trying to convince her to get on.

“Come on Brenda love, we can’t stay here.”

Matt had had enough though, he approached the window trying to get a glimpse of the emergency services, he could hear them getting faintly louder, still a minute or two away, but the building could give way at any second.

“Luke your gonna have to grab her.”

Luke gulped audibly, not only did he really not want to do that, but he hated grabbing anyone against their will, even holding the robber in a firm fist had made him feel sick to his stomach. No one should have their free will taken from them like that, especially a frightened old woman.

“Matt, you can’t ask me to, I can’t.”

“Do it lad, she won’t listen to reason, please help us out of here.” The old man spoke up then, his wife was in a state of panic and not listening to anything happening around her, there was no way to convince her to get on his hand willingly and Matt couldn’t lift her onto it on his own.

The building groaned and that made up his decision, they had to do this now.

“Okay, alright, you two get on first.” The old man wasted no time, he climbed on and sat himself down holding on tight to Luke’s thumb that had curled into his palm, Matt hopped on shortly after.

Luke moved them towards his chest, so they had some kind of shield from the drop below before his other hand crowded the window, the old woman was backing up, but she wasn’t fast enough for the large appendage that invaded the small space of the room.

She screamed so loudly that it could surely be heard from a few blocks away, Luke held his breathe, hating himself as his fingers wrapped around her frail frame, he held her in a loose fist, not wanting to squeeze too tightly on her fragile body.

Then as carefully as he could he pulled her from the building, he knelt down once more, letting off his two passengers and carefully opening his other hand next to Matt so he could help her if she was unstable.

Luke hadn’t realized until now, but the old woman had become silent in his hand, as he let her go, Matt caught her and lowered her onto the ground.

A deafening groan came from the building behind them, and Luke turned to see the sixth floor begin to collapse, he stood and stretched his arms out hoping to shield the civilians from the crash, He pushed the building upright with a grunt and then let it concave in on itself. God, he hoped that they had gotten everyone out.

The dust and smoke filtered out through the streets, causing the people on the sidelines to cough and choke, it was then that the fire truck rounded the corner, screeching tires and sirens blazing casting the site in red and blue light. Luke decided to pay them no mind, they were late to the scene, and he had other things to worry about now.

Once he was sure the building wouldn’t fall further into the crowd, he turned back to Matt and the elderly woman on the ground, his eyes widened when he saw that Matt was pushing his hands into her chest, performing CPR.

All colour drained from Luke’s face and he crouched down so his face was hovering over them, Matt’s brow was slick with sweat from the exertion.

“W-what happened? D-did I-?”

“I think she had a heart attack.” Matt panted as he continued pressing rhythmically into her chest.

“No no no.” Luke muttered, he thought for sure his own heart had stopped, this is what he feared most, he’d actually done it, he’d hurt someone, unintentionally but nevertheless proved he was indeed what she had called him, a monster.

“Step back!” A burly looking man pushed through the crowed, he held a first aid kit and a portable defibrillator slinging across his chest and an ambulance emblem on his uniform, he must be a paramedic.

“Suspected heart attack, she’s been unresponsive for about a minute.” Matt told the paramedic as he took over, Matt was a paramedic also but obviously off duty, he helped the man cut the woman’s shirt down the middle before sticking two defibrillation tabs onto her chest.

“Clear!” The man shouted before proceeding to shock the woman, her body jolted, and a deafening single beep resounded. He rebooted the device and went for it once again, jolting her body, it felt like time stood still as everyone waited to listen to the beeping of her heart.

“Beep, beep, beep.” A rhythm, Luke exhaled a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, the breeze blew the hair of those directly under his looming face, and then the paramedic looked up at him.

“He’s cool.” Matt said, he spoke to the man with familiarity, like they knew each other, they probably did seeing as Matt was also a paramedic.

“I don’t wanna know man.” He shook his head and waved for them to get out of there, Luke wasted no time, he stood without waiting for Matt to follow, rounded the corner and when he saw no one was looking he shrunk back to an average height of 6 foot 5.

Matt jogged around the corner to catch up with him and immediately pulled his mate into a tight hug.

“Luke, I don’t care what you say or what you think, you’re a hero, those people would not still be alive without you.”

Luke couldn’t shake the image of the old woman, literally scared to death, he may have actually killed her had Matt not been there to start CPR she would still be dead.

“Heroes don’t kill people Matt.” He said quietly, he couldn’t meet Matt’s eyes, instead he only stared at his hands like they were alien to him. “let’s just go.” Luke turned away from his friend and walked slowly toward their apartment, the shaky feeling of adrenalin leaving his body and now all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.

“Come on man, don’t blame yourself.” But he could tell that he wasn’t hearing him, he knew Luke felt responsible for the old woman Brenda’s near-death experience.

“The stress from the fire, inhaling all that smoke, and probably partly you all contributed to her heart attack, you didn’t kill her Luke, she’s breathing, she will live to breathe another day because of you.”

Luke couldn’t hear him, the woman’s screams drowning out any other sounds to his ears, the look of sheer terror on her face and the way she writhed in his grasp before she ceased moving all together, and then the way she hung limp against his fingers. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t shake those thoughts and feelings from his mind.

“Luke!” He turned sharply to tell Matt to quit with the lecture already when he realized he had to look up at his friend’s face, currently staring squarely at Matt’s chest and definitely not the height he should be.

He let a tear fall down his cheek then, he should have expected this, he could feel himself feeling more and more down about himself, beating himself up until he felt raw inside. This is what he felt he deserved after all, after being a dangerous giant, he deserved to be weak and small now, at the mercy of large hands other than his own.

“Oh, Luke buddy.” Matt sighed, watching his friend slowly dwindle in height until he stood no taller than his ankle, at which point Luke collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands, large sobs wracking his small body.

Matt looked around the street to ensure no one else was around, everyone nearby was too busy focused on the fire and supporting the victims and witnesses of the event. He then knelt down in front of Luke and laid out a palm for him much like Luke had done for him only ten minutes ago.

“Come on dude, let’s get you home.” Luke crawled on hands and knees into the safety of his best friends warm and slightly sweaty palm. Matt had bore witness to his shifting abilities in all its forms and was well versed in handling his friend when he was this small.

Matt carefully raised Luke up to his chest and held him securely there, blocking him from view with his other hand from anyone who might walk by or look out their windows. All they would see was a hooded young man holding something to his chest, they would probably assume he’d been to a drug deal or something, but he didn’t care what they thought as long as he kept his friend safe.

Once inside the apartment, Matt asked Luke if he wanted to stay up and talk about what happened, hoping to raise his friends spirits enough for him to grow back but Luke only shook his head requesting to be put on his bed for the night. Matt reluctantly let him go, not wanting to push the issue any further before heading to his own bed.

That night both friends slept like the dead and Luke wondered if being a hero would ever become easier.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (7)

Cold Fire

Having been worse than ignored by Daemon at the funeral, Arianwyn finally comes face to face with her father.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: daddy's home...

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The first time Arianwyn called someone ‘papa,’ it was not Prince Daemon Targaryen.

King Viserys had come to the nursery to see her dragon. He’d made a habit of doing so about once per week. Arianwyn and Aemond loved when he came, for they would get to sit on his big, soft lap and listen to him tell stories.

Aemond fell asleep halfway through the first story. It was about a beautiful Valyrian princess who lived her life confined in a tower, who only escaped when a handsome Valyrian prince fell in love with her without even seeing her and rescued her on his great dragon. That story was a particular favorite of hers.

She snuggled closer to the king, holding her dragon – who was also asleep – in her arms. “Read another one, papa?”

The king frowned, his face crinkling. “Oh, little Aria, I’m not your papa.”

How could that be? Aegon and Aemond called him ‘father,’ and Helaena called him ‘papa.’ Why was it different for her? “Why not?”

“Because someone else is your father,” the king said. “Your father is my brother – he is your papa. I am your uncle, your kepa.”

She considered for a moment. Aunt was her aunt, not her mother, and Aunt was married to the king. She supposed it made sense. “Where is my papa?”

“He is…” the king, Uncle, looked away from her, out the window to the sea. “He is far away.”

“When is he coming back?”

“I don’t know, my sweet.” He looked sad. Very sad.

Arianwyn did not want him to be sad. If he was sad, he wouldn’t read to her more. “Which story is your favorite, Uncle Kepa?”

He laughed, but she didn’t know why. But he began reading again, so it was fine.

That evening, once Aegon and Helaena had returned from wherever they went during the day, Arianwyn explained what she had learned to Helaena and Aemond. But Aegon laughed at her when she mentioned her father and how she couldn’t wait for him to come back.

“Why would he come back?” he asked.

It seemed like a silly question to her. “To see me.”

Aegon shook his head. “He doesn’t want to or need to. He has a new family across the sea – two new daughters. Besides, he’s had more than ten years to see you. If he wanted to, he would have done it already.”

Aemond started to yell at him and threw a stuffed velvet rabbit at him. But Arianwyn said nothing.

What Aegon said felt like the truth. She could feel it in her chest like the weight of half a dozen books. Her father stayed across the sea because she did not want to see her – he did not want to be her father.

She never called anyone ‘papa’ again.

The main dining room at High Tide was as lavish as the rest of the castle. A great table, some twenty feet long, ran through the center of the room. From the uneven grain and sun-bleached color of the wood itself, it was clear to all who laid eyes on it that it had been constructed of driftwood – Lord Corlys was many things, but subtle he was not. The twenty-two chairs set around the table were made of the same wood, backboards reaching up in points shaped by the sea.

Prince Daemon Targaryen sat on one of these chairs – at the head of the table – slouching with disinterest as he picked at the wood of the armrest with his fingernails. He did not look up when the queen entered the room, his daughter trailing sheepishly behind her.

Arianwyn thought her heart would burst out of her chest for how fast it beat. She could no more decipher her own churning feelings than the expression on her father’s face. She curtsied, just as her Septa had instructed. But she said nothing.

Neither did Daemon.

After long moments of silence, the queen spoke. “My Prince, may I introduce the Lady Arianwyn.” She fixed him with her most withering glare. “Your daughter.”

“Yes, I can see that,” the Prince drawled, at last looking at the girl. He scanned his violet eyes over her like she were livestock to be appraised. “She has her mother’s piggy little nose.”

Arianwyn clenched her fist to prevent her hand from flying to her face, resisting the instinct to cover the apparently offensive feature. A fire ignited in her heart, setting her blood boiling.

The queen herself had to bite her tongue to hold back a curt reply. Instead, she smoothed the front of her dress and spoke again. “I am pleased to say that she is a fine, accomplished young lady. She has excelled in her studies, and the Dragonkeepers report she is equally talented as a dragonrider.”

Daemon grinned as if he had been told a foul joke. “I’d heard the egg hatched. Let me guess, a bronze she-dragon?”

Forcing out a shaking breath, Arianwyn shook her head.

Her father pursed his lips, “Pity. You could have called it after your mother. Few enemies would stand a chance against the Bronze Bitch.”

“How dare you?” Arianwyn spat, her oath of silence and indifference entirely abandoned. “How dare you insult my mother?”

Alicent placed a hand on her niece’s elbow to calm the girl’s rage. But Arianwyn ripped her arm away, stalking around the massive table to advance on her father. “You’ve never cared about me for a single moment of my entire life. And now, after ten years, you finally ask to see me only so you can insult me and continue to defame the woman you tortured in life?” She reached the end of the table, fire blazing in her grey eyes as she stared down at Daemon. “What kind of cowardly monster are you?”

Sighing, Daemon pulled himself from his chair. He was so much taller than her, even when he leaned to brace his hands on either side of the driftwood table. “I did not ask to see you.”

Something cracked in Arianwyn’s chest at those words, as the last shred of a primal, desperate hope for reconciliation with her father – a hope she did not know she still held – died. Tears finally spilled from her eyes, and she whirled around toward Alicent.

The queen’s heart broke when she saw the utter devastation on the girl’s face – knowing she had been its architect. “I am so sorry, Aria,” she breathed. “I thought… A child should know her father.”

Before either woman could say anything more, Daemon strolled casually around the opposite end of the table, a self-satisfied smile across his lips. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, but there are people in this castle I should like to meet.”

Neither Alicent nor Arianwyn moved a muscle until the door had thudded shut behind him. Then and only then did Arianwyn fall to her knees, letting out a cry that would shatter the frozen heart of an ice dragon.

Arianwyn cried for hours, despite Alicent and Brynna’s attempts to soothe her. But there was no calming her fury. It continued to grow, burning brighter and hotter than even the black fire of Balerion, a ferocity that could only come from a shattered Targaryen heart.

She had told herself that she did not care what Daemon thought of her, that she had lived her life happily enough without him, and even that she hated him after what he had done to Rhea. Yet, true as those feelings were, there remained a piece of her soul that yearned for the love and approval of her only remaining parent. To have that piece destroyed, even when it was suppressed for so long, was a wound from which most would never recover.

But Arianwyn was not just any girl. She was the blood of Old Valyria and the daughter of Runestone. She would endure.

When her throat was raw from screaming and her eyes at last dry of tears, she let the fire that burned in her soul cool. It was not quenched – nor would it be for many years to come. Instead, the sprawling red blaze in her chest joined together in a single flame of crackling silvery blue. This fire burned not with heat, but a cold that made the icy fields beyond the Wall look like a scorching Dornish desert.  

Fire burned in the soul of every Targaryen born – but precious few had ever burned cold.

Alicent offered to have dinner brought up to Arianwyn, but she refused. She would not hide in a tower like a damsel from a story. She would walk once more into that dining room with her head held high and look upon her father with her mother’s grey eyes. She would show him just how like Rhea she was – that even bent and cracked, she would not break.

[banquetwriter]

this might be too angsty 😭

but can you do one where the reader has chronic anxiety and is literally house bound most of the time because of how bad it gets and johnnie just helps them through it

୨୧ brittle breathes ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ panic attacks, extreme anxiety 

summary: ʚ reader’s chronic anxiety binds them to their house but Johnnie is able to save them ɞ

Words: 1452

An: sorry it's taking me so long to write i can't help it lol 

Every day has felt the same to you. You wake up and immediately doom scroll on your phone. Your brain is hyper-fixating on every bad comment you receive. You eventually get off Twitter and turn on YouTube. The torment doesn't end there.

You turn on someone who has consistent uploads, better looking than you, and overall is just better at your job. You feel so sick. Constantly nausea, your hands and feet are freezing, and your brain seems like you mushed it into pieces. 

It had been weeks since you had last uploaded on your channel. It wasn't so bad at first. You felt less anxious at home so you just stayed in more. Unfortunately, it has its talons in you. You could never leave the house anymore.

You were sitting on the couch in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. You hadn't gotten ready in weeks either, posting the occasional post on your Instagram story of something random. 

It wasn't like your fans hadn't noticed, hell everyone in your life had noticed. Your boyfriend Johnnie had asked what was going on with you lately, and he saw it. Of course, he saw it. The light in your eyes slowly dimmed. 

The way you wouldn't do anything anymore. Your interest didn't excite you anymore, you never ate anymore, and the most worrying thing was you'd stopped hanging out with him. 

He knew how hard anxiety could be on a person and how he wanted to help but he also knew how fragile people can be in this head space.

You had dried tears staining your cheeks as you scrolled through Twitter. You were looking at any tweet with your name involved in it. You were just a sad little lump on the couch. It was pathetic really. 

Your heart jumped as a notification went through that Johnnie started a live stream on Twitch. You had forgotten he was going to stream tonight. You clicked on it saying hi in chat. 

“Ahh fuck my settings are all messed up hold on guys,” Johnnie mumbled moving closer to his screen and clicking around. You giggle watching his fans say hi to you in chat. “Alright sorry guys,” he says, sitting up and looking at the chat. 

“Wait, is y/n in chat? A bunch of people are saying hi,” he says looking at the chat zoom bye. You smile to yourself already feeling calmer just by listening to his voice. “Yes, I am ¯\_(ツ)_/¯” you type in the chat. You watch him read the chat and smile to himself. 

He hides his blush by putting his hand over his mouth. The whole interaction made you giggle. He was the only thing that ever made you feel good anymore. You knew that wasn't healthy but you couldn't help it. You texted a black heart emoji to Johnnie.

You sat and watched the stream for a bit longer at some point while Johnnie stopped for a second to respond to your text. ‘Love you nerd’ he said with a heart emoji as well. He smiled down at his phone before realizing he was still streaming and had to keep them entertained. 

He came to a slow point in his stream so he looked over at his chat. “Why isn't y/n posting?” he asked, reading a fan’s words. Your heart skipped a beat. “Um, they are just having a hard time right now. They will be back soon though don't worry,” he answers, it was a true statement.

It just stung that your fans were reaching out to him about you. Johnnie would never make you feel guilty about this of course he understood, it's just you felt like such a burden on him because of this. 

You snapped back into reality, Johnnie had continued his stream and the chat slowly moved on from the topic. You had to do something about this. It was consuming your life.

You swiped away from Twitch and pulled up your messages with Johnnie. ‘Can you come over after the stream?’ you asked. If you were going to get out of this you were going to need help to do it. You had the stream pulled back up again. 

Johnnie was looking down at your phone. ‘I will get an Uber right now.’ was a text Johnnie sent you. You sat up reading the message on the top of your screen. “Hey guys I'm actually going to have to end stream early,” he said looking up from his phone.

You watched the chat as they started to freak out at the sudden end. Well, this wasn't how you wanted things to go. “Everything is ok. I just realized I have something to do.” he murmurs closing all the tabs on his computer going to full screen.

You turn the stream off, your heart pounding. Guilt flooding your veins. You stood up only worsening your dizzy state. You fumbled into the kitchen grabbing a glass of water. You failed, however.

You never made it to the sink. Your brain is racing and your mind is melting. A panic attack flows over your bones and into your soul. Your phone is lost somewhere you don't remember. 

Your breath in rapid paces as you can't make anything out. The lack of oxygen fuels your state. Tears start to pool out of your eyes, you start to sob. The crying mixed with the rapid breath causes you to lose all the air you had.

You can't breathe anymore. Any semblance of being able to return to normal is gone. You fall onto your hands and knees scratching at your throat in immense panic. You try to scream or kick or anything that can save you. 

You don't even hear when Johnnie uses the key you gave him to enter your home. Finding you thrashing on your kitchen floor, tears falling from your eyes. “Y/n?” he yells dropping to the floor with you. 

“What's wrong?” he yells trying to see your face. He manages to grab the side of your face and hold it up. “Can't… breathe,” you mumble, your face starting to lose color. 

“You're ok,” he says looking at you. He isn't able to say it with much conviction. His words betrayed his face as it flooded with worry. You try and fail to return your breathing to normal. Johnnie sees you struggle. 

“Try and follow mine,” he says, unsure of how to help you. You nod your head trying to listen to his breathing. It wasn't any use if you couldn't hear him properly. You hold your hand on his chest, you can feel his exhale and inhale. You could feel his lungs fill with air. 

You tried your best to mimic him. Closing your eyes eventually works. Eventually, you feel your worry melt away, like snow when the weather warms up. It leaves and melts from your body.

Your body relaxes and the tension falls. Johnnie watches as you slowly return back to normal. He brings his hand up to your face and holds you close. You lean into his touch. Your body is slouching.

He wraps his arms around you, holding your body up. “Johnnie?” you ask quietly. The tiredness ebs its way into your body. “Yeah? I'm here. I'm here.” he says slowly. “I need your help. Or someone's I'm not sure. I don't think I can trust anyone else with this.” you whispered to him.

“What's wrong? What can I do?” he asks, moving the hair that fell into your face away. “I have been rotted away by anxiety. I can't leave my house, I can't eat, I cannot do anything anymore. I haven't posted in god knows how long.” you cry standing up and away from him.

He sits up to watch you pace through your apartment. “I can't eat or sleep or talk to anyone without my entire world collapsing. Which isn't helping, it's just making me more anxious.” you cry, pulling at the sides of your face in frustration. 

“What can I do? How can I help you?” he asks while walking up to you. You stop your pacing, before abruptly pulling him into a hug. “I need to start seeing a therapist or something else, I need you to help me,” you whispered into his ear. 

He pulls away, only a little, to see your face. “We can do that for you. I'm sure it's going to get better if you start slowly, ok?” he whispers back. You smile at him sweetly. 

It was going to be hard but little by little you were going to take your life back. You were going to be able to do it with Johnnie. 

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hello!!! Long time no ask! Lol, I've been battling sickness, and I'm and out of hospitals and specialists, and whilst I sit upon my bed, I was thinking of how I used to absolutely ADORE your stories!!! So, I come here seeking a HOTD story!!!

Would it be possible for you to write a story/one shot about an old character I had asked you to make? She was the only child between Laenor and Rhaenyra, but never wanted the throne, in this story could you write her reaction to hearing about her brother, Lucerys' demise from Rhaenys? She was close to her brothers even though they were half siblings and I can't imagine how she must have felt knowing Aemond, who she had once been betrothed too and cared for, was the cause.

Goodness I miss your works and I look forward to seeing the HOTS season 2!!!

Loss of the wrong blood

Targaryen family x daughter of Laenor and Rhaenyra!reader

warning : angst, emotional, implied war, mention of death (of lucerys), mention of war and death, very slightly implied Aemond x reader, reader is female, no use of Y/n

Summary : Once the succession to the throne seemed secure with her being the true child of Princess Rhaenyra and her first husband Laenor. But that time is over, the war is upon them, and into the storm comes the news of Lucery's death, a time when much worse was to come.

Info : OMG I am so happy to have written this my dear I wish you all the best and the best of health I really hope you enjoy this and I am always open for more. It was really nice to visit old friends again and I wish you a lot of fun…everyone else too of course ;) Season 2 will be amazing and so sad at the ame time

masterlist

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The blood of the Targaryens, Velaryons and Hightowers all older than most houses. Three families that came together under the royal family a family from Alicent and the Hand of Otto Hightower grandfather of the three children of the queen who were also the uncles of the three blood infested children of Rhaenyra a daughter of King Viserys of the kingdom of joy and a woman who would one day ascend the throne.

The three princes, as they were often called, were three children with dark brown hair and dark eyes who knew that they were not the true heirs, born out of love for their beloved mother. Three sons without a father a real father who burned to death in the flames of his castle.

But in those dark days, in the days when Aegon was crowned king, the green ones were preparing for a first strike and the black ones were sharpening their blades and dragons around Rhaenyra, there was a trueborn in the family besides Rhaenyra and her three half-siblings, it was her only daughter.

The only daughter from the marriage between Laenor and Rhaenyra was born one night when it had worked out in a circuitous way with wine and potions with slaves and under the moonshine.

A night from which Rhaenyra's only daughter, the second-born child, was born with white light hair, violet eyes and a darker skin that resembled Velaryon's.

Eyes that now showed assurance as she raised her sword and pointed at her older half-brother who had also moved into position before the two approached each other under the command of the Master of Arm.

Swords slashing against each other, the dragon Vermax looked on curiously at the older Seasomke who was looking at his horse. A battle, a training between siblings, a battle in which Jace was seen to have the strength of his father Harwin, a battle in which the skill of the Velayrons came to the fore.

It was a back and forth until it came to the point where her two brothers moved away and she shrugged off his ,,I'll see you in a minute, you lame chick" with a roll of her eyes and saw the teacher's look of approval. But she saw how tightly Jace clutched the sword, nervous about his first mission for the empire, for their mutual mother.

She knew that she and Jace should have gone, not Lucerys, who was still too young for her. But I can't go…the heiress can't go, she thought, handing her sword to her holder hanging over the fireplace as she put on her formal clothes to say goodbye. Her eyes briefly lingered on the picture of the entire family of Targaryens, Velaryons and Hightowers at the family dinner.

Where everything was still sort of okay until Aegon ruined it, ,,And you defended me Aemond," she murmured and put her finger on her uncle her real blood relative not her half uncle like Jace, Luce and Joff. Despite the fact that it was only a picture, she could see the sapphire in his eye and she felt his gaze on her, he was always with her, had been promised to her.

He was a man she had once not disliked, their interests were similar and he was gentler and more affectionate than her first uncle Aegon. Soon she hastily put the picture away and closed the golden buckle with the dragon while seahorses and dragons in silver and gold appeared on her cloak and clothes.

It was a reminder to everyone here on Dragonstone and King's Landing that she was the only legitimate child and heir to the throne besides her little hall brothers Aegon the third and Viserys the second.

,,We are the true family they say but that's not true" she mumbled as she looked at the painting of King's Landing a painting in the glory days of the city a city that knew who the true heirs were she and her two half brothers and her two uncles and her dear aunt Helaeana and her three children her cousins.

As she left her room, she remembered one thing about Lucery's hopeful sad expression-hope for no war and grief that he was walking alone, his fears threatening to hollow him out.

,,Mother, father…Harwin the house of Velaryon and I we are all so proud of you my little Luce" she reminded him and placed a hand on the brown haired man's cheek looking into his dark eyes as he pulled her into a hug and gave a soft ,,Thank you sister" before she stroked his head one last time and watched him mount Syrax.

She felt Jace's hand on her shoulder, ,,He's going to make it our little Lucerys," her older brother said as he closed her in a hug and she watched him mount his dragon Vermax and watched her brothers until they disappeared into the sky.

But things were to turn out differently - they were messengers on behalf of Queen Rhaenyra, but Jacaerys fulfilled his mission to the Arryns and the Starks in the north…but Lucerys met a bitter, gruesome end over the sea, murdered by his uncle on Vhagar.

A message that came to her late as the fire burned in the hearth and she sharpened her sword as her stepfather Daemon had always advised her to do when waiting, ,,Keep your weapons and mind sharp so you can't be surprised," she remembered his words.

She felt his hand on her shoulder as they shared the few moments they had. Daemond was not like Laenor, she barely remembered her real father, but whenever she saw the sea, the air whirring around her and the fire, she knew he was with her.

Before an almost timid knock on her wooden door made her put down her sword, ,,Come in" she said and saw that it was her grandmother. ,,What brings you to me, grandmother?" she asked, but saw that there was something like sadness in the Targayren baratheon's violet eyes. She saw Rhaenys come to her and stand beside her, her grandchild having risen from the bed and looking at her uncertainly.

She was just about to open her mouth when she heard the news, ,,Lucerys is dead, killed by your uncle Aemond," her grandmother said and wrapped her in a hug that was not returned.

Violet eyes darted around the room looking for something, looking for Lucerys, his image seemed to blur until she saw the family picture…Lucerys is supposed to be gone? Aemond? Could Aemond have done this after all?

Releasing herself from the embrace she saw her grandmother blurred tears had entered her eyes and were running down her cheek as she shook her head, ,,No-what? You're making a horrible joke, Rhaenys," she mumbled, but she could hear the distant sobs of her two brothers, the conversations and voices of her mother and stepfather. Lucerys saw the dark eyes and felt his soft hair under her hand. a few hours ago she had seen him, but he was still alive.

The older woman wanted to put her on the bed and tell her what had happened, but her granddaughter pulled away, ,,No! No, it wasn't Luce, it wasn't my little Lucerys!" she screamed, shaking her head and grabbing her sword before running out of the room.

She felt abandoned by everything, had lost her beloved brother, had lost everything, all because of an iron chair that was hers…a family that brought death. Something had to be done, something had to be done, but the point of war had been passed with his death.

Running past the sleeping chambers and rooms, she arrived in the main hall breathing heavily from crying and running. ,,Tell me it's not true, mother!" she called across the hall, seeing the queen's expression mixed with tears as she broke away from her uncle and husband and slowly, almost shakily, approached her daughter with a ,,Dear child".

But before she could embrace her just as Rhaenys wanted to do, her only daughter threw the sword on the floor in front of her. ,,You-you're the queen, you have power mother damn it he can't be dead!" she screamed in rage, anger and grief, not noticing Jace watching her with tears as he hugged his little brother Joffrey.

,,Your brother, the Lord of Driftmark, will be avenged, you can be sure of that, daughter!" Dameon, who could hardly tolerate such behavior even if the lords and ladies and servants were no longer in the room, pointed out publicly. Lord of Driftmark she thought and laughed in her emotional frenzy the title goes to Joffrey a child and Rhaena now a widow her betrothed murdered even before the wedding with her cousin.

,,You Daemon…Lord of Driftmark do you all hear yourselves? Joffrey is it now, Rhaena is a widow mine-my brothers are bastards with no claim and I'm the only damn child left to a queen without a kingdom! What do you want to avenge Dameon!" she screamed at him, pushing past her mother and giving her uncle a look that was returned by the dragon's violet eyes.

Caraxes and Seasmoke could be heard outside and the other dragons joined in. They all felt the pain and suffering.

For a moment everyone seemed to think that Dameon was going to hit his stepdaughter and great niece but he just put his hand on her shoulder for a moment before walking past her, ,,I'll get us back to bloody Westeros if it means I can avenge this family," he said audibly to everyone and put on his helmet before walking out of the hall.

The doors slammed shut and silence returned to the Targaryen Velaryon family, all of whom remained silent. Going back to her sword and picking it up, she slowly walked to her mother and hugged her for a moment, listening to her sobbing words of comfort, but in the princess, in the only princess of the realm, an idea had already formed, an idea for which she was born.

,,Don't worry mother, everything will be all right again, the war will end," she assured her, looking into the sad violet eyes before she disappeared past her family into her room and stayed there.

She lingered there with the picture of the family in her hand and looked into his eyes, gazing at the gemstone before she waited for the mode to slowly open. A thought she knew seemed to be the only thing left to fight.

She was the only legitimate child of the black she was the only legitimate child of the royal family she had to do what she was meant to do. Putting the leather bag over her shoulder, the sword hanging from her belt, she reached for the bridle for Seasmoke who was staying on Dragonstone in the pits.

The moon was covered in clouds and darkness fell on the family as a shadow flitted through the corridors. Dragons and seahorses gold and silver shells and fire could be seen on her kelding as she ran her hand over the doors of her beloved family members. ,,Forgiven me mother, Jace, Joff and Raenys…forgive me father I will put it back into order" she murmured leaving the letter on the iron table before scurrying out of dragonstone to the hells and calling out to valyrish for her dragon to come to her.

,,We'll fly back Seasmoke we have to try" she said and put the leather around the pale silver gray dragon a growl made her look up and Seasmoke grumbled as they both knew that they had to fly through the storm, that it was the storm that awaited them that Aemond promised her hope for the offer as Aegon accepted the offer of marriage for the peace of his brother with his niece and she hoped that Alicent and Otto with Larys would finally leave the strings of power alone.

Mounting her father's dragon, Seasmoke flew into the sky with a roar, his roar and fire barely visible or audible. The dragon brought his rider safely to King's Landing into the courtyard, protecting her from the guards with fire and wings until the proclaimed king with his sister queen, children, mother, grandfather and his brother Ameond were in front of her.

Only then did she step forward and kneel before them, throwing down her sword, and it is said in the books of the secured that violet tears of the dragon rolled down her cheeks in the darkness of the night as she asked her uncle Ameond to marry her as a peace offering.

A marriage that should have happened much earlier when she saw the pitying yet devoted look on Ameond's face. It was the chapel in the Dance of Dragons where the marriage took place, a marriage that was short-lived as Daemon kept his promise and his great-niece became both prisoner and wife.

It was a time when both sides fought a side that the other took more and more. A family struggle that ended in death and the throne went to the true heir after Aegon's death.

The green blood was wiped out and the only true heiress, the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon, ascended the throne and the only thing she had left of her beloved family were her two younger half-brothers full of fear of tomorrow, her grandfather Corlys a man with sorrow and yet hope in him when he looked at her and her husband's sword in her hand while her mother's necklace hung around her neck and the symbol of the dragon joined the seahorse on the banner in the throne.

It was the Peaceful Queen's reign that unified the kingdom and made the way for her younger brother when she died. But she was in the place she hated surrounded by a small part of her family that was slowly rebuilding with the memory of her beloved mother and brothers for whom she had statues built.

The peaceful queen would never let the history of her family be forgotten…and so once again a Targaryen sat on the throne full of grief, hope and a story that began with the spilling of untrue blood the death of her brother Lucerys Velaron.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[thedoctorsthings]

Power to the king | final chapter

Here she finally is, the final chapter. This concludes Yoongi's part of the story, but don't fret, Power to the king is not done yet. The next member I will write is Seokjin. However don't expect a peep out of me until at least the end of June because I have finals. Enjoy!

WC: About 2k

Warnings: minor character death, angst, smut but it's only vaguely described not explicitly detailed because I'm a big wuss, good ending don't worry

You had visited the princess, but not much had come out of it. After you told her what you heard she had looked at you quizzically and told you that Frida had always accompanied her brother on his trips. She also said that she never thought anything of it until now. The discovery that Yoongi’s relationship with this maid dated back years was a blow to your stomach, but at least the princess was honest with you. You had formed an ally in this castle.

On the morning of your husband’s return you feel more confident than ever.  On your wedding night he had made you promise to never let your emotions run amok again, and today you would show him you remembered. You had no idea if Yoongi knew how you felt. There was a chance he didn’t even know you knew about them.

It’s almost noon and you’re waiting for his arrival in the great hall with the rest of the family. It was customary for the person who had been away to give a report on the situation to the council. First, he would be welcomed back by his entire family. Jungkook, who was standing next to you, whispered: "I promised him a huge favour if he stopped shaving while travelling”. ‘What did he say?”, you asked. “He agreed, but I’d rather not discuss what he made me do. He better walk through that door with a beard”. You barely had time to answer, or the doors flew open revealing Yoongi, without beard, and his entourage.

With a forced smile and a hushed: “You bastard”, under his breath, Jungkook approached his brother and shook his hand. The minute you saw your husband appear all the confidence left your body. How could you tell this beautiful, intimidating man that you hated him. All you were left with was sadness about the progress you had made that was now lost. After greeting the king your husband came up to you and ceremoniously pressed his and your cheeks together, as was customary. You barely reacted, no eye contact, no smile. There was some visible confusion on his face, but he didn’t say anything about it.

That evening, at dinner, you went back to your old, quiet self. You had no idea why because you had promised yourself you would be strong and tell him he had to stop seeing her. Instead, you had deflated in on yourself upon seeing him.

Yoongi’s eyes were boring holes into your skull. He was seated opposite of you, and spent the entire night staring, no glaring, at you. After the meal you wasted no time fleeing to your rooms. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just talk to him and tell him off like you had before? Suddenly there’s an aggressive sounding knock on your door. “Come in”. You’ve barely uttered, or he’s already inside. He stands tall in front of your door, about two meters from you. “What’s wrong with you?” You’re shocked. What’s wrong with you? You’re not the one sleeping with some maid. “What do you mean?”, you bite back while folding your arms. “You embarrassed me in front of my family, I thought we had made progress. I thought we could be civil to each other now”. He’s pointing accusingly at you now, clear anger on his face. You bite the inside of your lip. “Well, I thought so too, but I should have realised it was only about civility for you”. He’s stands quiet for a moment, face riddled with angry confusion. “What are you talking about?” You take a step closer to him and gather all your courage. “You’re sleeping with Frida. I saw you together some time ago, and now you took her on your trip. I should have known you only visited me every night to keep me content, so you could keep sneaking around with your favourite maids”.

His face contorts in a snarl: “You have no right to accuse me of anything”, he spits. You laugh: “Is it not true then?” your voice overshoots slightly at this last question. He stays quiet. Your eyes begin to tear, but he doesn’t see, he never does. “Are there more? Are you in love with her? God Yoongi, why did you do this?” He stays quiet, and you almost lose your mind. You start yelling as tears well up in your eyes for real now: “Answer me, Yoongi! How could you do this to me? How come you can barely look at me or spend time with me, but you can sneak around sleeping with her without even paying attention who sees?” “Because!” he yells, “I feel sorry, when I look at you, I feel sorry! I trapped you in a marriage with the most loveless man in the kingdom. I can’t stand to be around you because you remind me of how horrible I am. I felt like pushing you away from me would free you”.

It's your turn to be silent now. Anger is coursing through your entire body. How dare he act as if he was helping you by setting you aside as a wife. “If you feel so guilty why not be better?” Your question is almost immediately followed by an answer.  “Because I’m not good! I can never give you what you want. I’m not a husband, I wasn’t ready”. He says while finally looking you in the eye. “Neither was I” you cry, “But you don’t see me running of with someone else. I’ve been trying so hard to make something of this!” Yoongi scoffs. He had been standing in the same spot this whole time, but now he moves closer. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it”, he spits. “I’ve seen the way you behave around me brother”.

You’re standing face to face now, closer than you’ve ever been. You’re white hot with anger. “You are a coward”. You can feel his breath on your face. He bends down. Heath is radiating off him. One moment you’re glaring at your husband, the next, you throw yourself in his arms as he engulfs you, and almost lifts you off the floor. His mouth is on yours and he kisses you as if there’s something he desperately needs from you. Both your hands roam everywhere, pulling at hair, undoing buttons, scratching over bare skin. You stumble on the bed. It marks the start of a long night full of passion and anger. He’s a man starved and you’re willing to give him everything your body has to give.

The next morning Yoongi is gone. You had slept tangled up together, but you hadn’t noticed him getting up. The maid, who you know is here to get you dressed, knocks on your door. Low and behold there she’s standing, Frida. You let her dress you as if nothing is wrong. It’s not that you don’t want to confront her. You just don’t know how you would go about it. At breakfast he doesn’t say a word to you, doesn’t even make eye contact. The only thing you get out of him is a slight smirk to himself when he sees you having trouble standing up on your sore legs.

That day the princess takes you on a walk around the castle. You’re chattering away when you cross the big courtyard. It’s the third day of the week, a little past noon. This means it’s the moment of the weekly delivery of vegetables at the castle. You get your greens from the same farmer every week. The farm is owned by Harald Park. After you saw the man named Jimin almost light his hair on fire at the festival, you had asked Jungkook about him, and he had told you he was Harald’s son. Recently, however, Harald had fallen ill and Jimin took over the deliveries for the palace. When you walk past him, he’s tossing a bag of grain off the carriage, but he stops to make some of the most intense eye contact with the princess you’ve ever seen. You suppress a smile and wait until you’re out of earshot to ask her: “What was that?” The princess blushes and says: “It’s nothing”, while hiding her face from you. It’s nothing yet, you add in your mind.

For the entire rest of the week Yoongi doesn’t make any contact with you. He only says something to you when it’s absolutely necessary, and he doesn’t come to visit you in the evening. Every day Frida helps you dress and every day you almost say something. By the end of the week, you can’t take it anymore, and after dinner you decide to take matters into your own hands. You march towards his room and knock on his door. He opens the door and looks at you with one eyebrow lifted. For some reason that face makes you angrier than ever. “Why won’t you talk to me?”, if the simple question you ask, but it leads to another heated argument, and another passionate night.

Over the course of the next weeks, you notice that You and Yoongi look for little reasons to get angry about so that you can march into each other’s rooms, have a screaming match and then spend the night together. During those nights he discovers parts of your body which you had no idea even existed. You draw an animal out of him, and no matter how much you’ve come to hate him, you long for these nights. When you fall asleep next to him, you sleep better than you have in months. You’re more energetic during the day, and Yoongi too, seems to be doing better than ever. How come you can’t share this newfound bliss with each other. Outside of the occasional fight in the evening you barely talk to him.

Another thing you’ve noticed is that you haven’t seen Yoongi around Frida since that first night you slept together. Maybe he’s just more secretive or careful about it now. One morning you wake up to the knock of the maid on your door. However, when she comes in it’s not Frida. It’s Gertrud again. “Good morning, your highness”. “Good morning”, you greet. You get up to stand in front of the mirror and stare out the window puzzled. When Gertrud is adjusting your corset, you ask: “Where is Frida?” Gertrud seems to have to think for a second before she says: “She got sent away to one of the properties of some rich lord. I think as some sort of diplomatic gesture. Before she left, she said it was your husband’s decision”. “Will she be coming back?” Gertrud pulls on the strings of your corset and says: “They usually don’t, your highness”. “oh”, is all you can muster. After she leaves you stand in front of the mirror for a minute longer. Guess you won’t have to confront Frida after all.

That night, after dinner, you decide to visit the queen again. It had been quite some time since your last visit, and you liked spending time with her. Right when you reach her rooms the doors are slammed open. It’s the younger druid, Taehyung. He looks more serious than ever. “Oh good, your highness, you’re here. Go get your husband. It’s the queen”. After this he rushes towards the king’s quarters without giving you time to answer. You rush to Yoongi’s chambers. While you’re almost running through the dark hallways, tears start welling up in your eyes. You loved the queen so much; she had been such good support for you. You couldn’t lose her. You knock on Yoongi’s door frantically. He opens the door looking distraught: “By Odin, what’s wrong with you?” “Yoongi, it’s your mother”.

Yoongi had held her hand as she went. The princess had lied next to her, and Jungkook sat at the foot of her bed. You stayed seated in the chair next to the bed. While all his children were shedding tears for their dear mother and saying goodbye to her, the king had simply walked in, asked the druid how long she had and left again. The queen had smiled one last time at her children and closed her eyes for good. Yoongi hadn’t cried a single tear. He just looked utterly defeated. After Jungkook left the room, you helped the princess into her own bed. She had asked you to stay with her, and of course you did. After you were sure she had fallen asleep, you decided to check on your husband. Not before placing the princess’ little sleeping dog next to her on the bed to replace your warmth.

You knocked softly and after hearing a hum you slowly opened the door. The room was lit by one single candle and Yoongi was standing by the window looking out at the darkness. You had no idea what to say so you just walked over to him and placed your hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at you and for a moment nothing happened. Then he broke down. This was the first time you had seen him cry, and it wouldn’t surprise you if this was the first time in years that he had. All you knew to do was take him into your arms. He let you. That night, after he calmed down, you washed your husband’s face and helped him into his night shirt. Both of your eyes had been bloodshot, because of the many tears, by the time you got into bed. You let him rest his head on your chest. Right before you fell asleep, you thought about how it took the queen dying for you to finally treat each other lovingly.

It had been three weeks since the queen passed, and Yoongi finally felt like he was getting a hold of himself again. You had been incredibly understanding and warm towards him for these three weeks, and he had no idea how to thank you or how to reciprocate. He was sitting in at his desk right before dinner. For the first time he thought back to that night. For the past three weeks his memory had blocked everything that had happened the night of his mother’s passing. It was finally coming back to him. The way you had been so soft, the way you had kissed his tears away and washed his face. He hadn’t said anything that entire night except right after he had broken down in your arms. He mumbled: “He didn’t even look at her”. You had simply nodded. You stayed so strong for him even though he had seen the tears in your eyes multiple times that night. Is this what it meant to be supported? When he entered the dining hall you were already sitting there. You were so impossibly beautiful. To everyone who saw you, you looked so delicate, but he knew the fire under your skin. He loved you, and he had to figure out how to tell you before you started to hate him again.

You’re sitting in your room, writing a letter to your mother. The queen’s passing had made you realize that if you didn’t try to make it right with her now, you might never have the chance. You’re dipping your feather in the ink when you hear something small and hard hit the window. You look up for a second, but then go back to writing. Then it happens again. This time you get up and open your window. You look down, and there is your husband, with a little stone in his hand, ready to throw again. “You know some people knock on doors. It’s much easier; you can use your hands”, you remark dryly. “I have to tell you something, but I can’t do it when you’re close to me. Y/N when I look into your eyes, I get lost. Every time I try to talk to you, I lose all words, which is horrible because you deserve so many. I’m hoping that if I do it from down here, I’ll actually get out what I’ve been trying to express for so long. Y/N, my wife, I love you”. He’s rambling now: “I know it might be hard to believe, but when I’m around you I’m softer than ever. I can’t sleep when you’re not near. I am so incredibly sorry for how I’ve treated you. I thought I was helping you by staying distant. I thought that I could make you hate me by sleeping with a maid, or by never talking to you. That I could somehow save you from the horror that is me, but you’ve made me realize that I can be better. From now on there will be only you, and if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life thanking you”.

You stay quiet for a moment. He mutters: “Please say something”. You break into a teary smile: “Come up here, you idiot”.

@lifeless-firefly @viankiss @emerald-notes @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @jjkwifestyle @nansasa

thank you so much for all the love

[randomshenaniganery]

When Marnie was Here threw me for a loop, the first half of the movie I was so astonished that they made a film about a ghost girl being in love with this antisocial girl and I didn’t expect it to be gay so I was trying so hard to hide it from my mom because she’ll start thinking I’m gay again. 

BUT THEN it turned out the ghost was her grandmother and I was like FUCKING bULLSHIT. Like I’m aroace and I really love media showing examples of non romantic love but that was utter fucking bullshit man. I was so ready to support the dead girl and this lonely kind of a butthole artist and in the end they were related. I felt robbed and was in denial until the part where marnie was showing memories where she didn’t interact with the main character whose name i don’t remember. The moment I saw that doll with the MC I was like are they going to make Marnie related to MC? and they fucking did. 

I’ve come to the conclusion that even if they’re related and their love ended up to be maternal affection I still think the mc is gay as hell and marnie is bi  

[soranker]

tomorrow :)

[tsireyast]

I feel like we dont talk about one of the main reasons nico was ostracized at camp, not just because hes a son of hades.

Camp half blood is small enough so that rumors and information spread fast, but that doesn't mean they are always right. So imagine you're a random camper, and you're told nico, one of the new campers, gets in a big fight with Percy. During which he makes skeletons appear and somehow opens a huge crack in the floor. But percy wins and nico leaves camp.

Don't you think it would've rang a bell?

Don't you think it would've reminded them too much of two summers ago, with luke?

Dont you think everyone would've been even more scared, because now they know nico is a child of hades, one of the big three, and therefore very powerful?

There must have been so many rumors that summer of nico being part of the kronos army. Betraying camp just like luke did.

Of course after the battle of manhattan many people would've changed their minds. Hes in their side now, after all. But there are probably still many campers who think nico left them to join luke, before he changed their mind and helped them win against luke and kronos. People who still hold a grudge against him for joining the "enemy".

[lloydfrontera]

tfw when you write an entire novel with two protagonists that spent the entire plot getting closer to each other, becoming best friends and eventually both of them deciding they would rather die than allow the other to not live a long, fulfilling life, their friendship carrying most of the emotional weight of the entire plot and the emotional climax being one of them sacrificing his life so the other can live and then the other crossing literal universes to find him, a tearful smile in his face as he confesses how much he missed him. which is the scene you wanted to write and show the most because, again, this is the pay off to the slowburn you've been writing in the entire novel and what everything has been building up to since the very first chapter. and then you end the novel by having them share a smile, finally confident they'll be able to have a happy future.

but you also just gotta have one of them marry offscreen because everyone knows you can't be happy if you're not in a het marriage with kids lmao it's whatever it's okay i'm fiNE-

[yellowocaballero]

Been a fan of your fics for YEARS. I was just telling my friend how despite how much I read fics I never actually love them, with some of your fics (especially TMA) as the exception. Felt the need to reread some of them and saw you reblogged some ISAT fanart. So. Any thoughts on ISAT you'd like to share?

Hope you have a wonderful day!! So happy I found your fics again!!

I avoided answering this for a while because I was trying to think of a way to cohesively and coherently vocalize my thoughts on In Stars and Time. I have given up because I don't want to hold everybody here all day and I have accepted that my thoughts are just pterodactyl screeching.

I love it so much. I have so much to say on it. It drove me bonkers for like a week straight. I have AUs. It's absolute Megbait. They're just a little Snufkin and they're having the worst experience of anybody's life. Ludonarratives my fucking beloved.

I am going to talk about the prologue.

The prologue is such a fascinating experience. You crack open the game and immediately begin checking off all of the little genre boxes: mage, warrior, researcher, you're the rogue...some little kid who's there for some reason...alright, you know the score. You're in yet another indie Earthbound RPG, these are your generic characters, let's get the ball rolling.

Except then you realize that these characters are people. You feel instantly how you've entered the game at its last dungeon, at the end of the adventure. They have their own in-jokes, histories, backgrounds, adventures. They get along well and they're obviously close, but not in a twee or unrealistic way. They have so much chemistry and spirit and life. I fell in love with them so quickly.

But Sif doesn't. Sif kind of hates them, because they will not stop saying the same damn thing. They walk the same paths, do the same things, make the same jokes, expect Sif to say the same lines. They keep referencing a Sif we do not see, with jokes we never see him make and heroic personality he never shows - they reference a Sif who is dead - and Sif can't handle that, so he kills them too.

They become only an exercise in tedious frustration. Sif button mashes through their dialogue, Sif mindlessly clicks the same dialogue options, Sif skips through the tutorial, Sif blows through the puzzles. Sif turns their world into a video game. Sif is playing a generic RPG. Sif forgets their names. They are no longer people with in-jokes, histories, backgrounds, adventures. They're the mage, the warrior, the researcher, and...some random kid.

I did not understand the Kid's presence at first. I had no idea what they contributed to the game. They didn't do anything. As a party member in a video game, they're a bit useless. Why is the Kid there?

Because Sif's life isn't a video game. Because the kid isn't 'the kid'. They're Bonnie. Bonnie, who the party loves. Why is Bonnie there? Because they love them. There is no room for Bonnie in the boring RPG that Sif is playing. And then you realize that Sif is wrong, and that they've lost something extremely important, and that they'll never escape without it.

Watching the prologue before watching ISAT gave ISAT the most unique air of dread and horror, because you crack open ISAT and you see the person Sif used to be. You realize that Sif used to be a person. Sif used to be the person who made jokes, who gave real smiles, who interacted with the world as if they are a part of it. And you know you are sitting down to watch Sif lose everything that made them a person, to lose everything that made them a member of this world, and turn them into a character in a video game who doesn't understand the point of Bonnie at all.

At the climax of the game, when the others realize that something is deeply wrong and that Sif physically cannot tell them, they realize that there is nothing they can do. So Bonnie declares snacktime. And for the first time they have snacktime.

What is snacktime? Classic JRPGs don't have snacktime. There's literally no point to a snacktime - not in a video game, and not in Sif's terrible life. It's not fixing this, because nothing can fix this. But Bonnie gives Sif a cookie and Sif eats it.

It's meaningless. It's a cutscene. It didn't save Sif and it didn't change a thing. It will make no difference in the end.

But it did make the difference. It made all of the difference in the world. Bonnie is a character who you really don't understand the point of before you realize that Bonnie was the entire point.

ISAT is about comfort media. Why do we play the same video games over and over again? Why do we avoid watching the finale of our favorite shows? What is truly comforting: a story with no conflict, or a story where you always know what is about to happen? Do you want to live in a scary, uncontrollable world, or do you want to play Stardew Valley? Do you want a person or a character?

When I beat Earthbound for the first time (and if you don't know, the prologue/ISAT battle system is just Mother) and watched the ending cutscene where the characters part ways and say goodbye...I felt a little bit sad. I wanted them to be together forever. But that's something only characters could ever be.

[problemswithbooks]

With the tentative and rough translations out, i have to say, yeah, Hori really doesn't get what he's actually writing and if he was trying to make Toga's entire deal a metaphor for queerness, he's ended up being quite offensive.

Like first off it seems he has Toga say she falls in love easily with boy and girls and...animals. Which, I always felt the bird thing as a kid could have negative connotations, but wrote it off as 'she was a little kid and this was before her desire for blood was wrapped up in her romantic feelings' type things. So having Hori reinstate that yes, she does still love animals to the point of blood drinking desire--a desire Hori coded as sexual/romantic is not a good look.

It also just makes me question if she could ever own a pet or if she'd end up killing it because she loved it to much and she needed to drink it's blood.

Also getting her perspective on the boy she attacked isn't great either. The translation is rough and basic so it could change, but I don't think there's any translation that could make the situation not read poorly.

In the rough translations she says something along the lines of "I didn't ask to drink his blood because I was afraid he'd hate me and think I was a decent monster."

I could see an alternative translation being "I asked for his blood and he called me a deviant monster, and I sucked his blood."

Again if Hori is trying to make a queer metaphor with Toga, this is a huge issue. Her attacking the boy was always a big problem, but if he didn't bring it up again I think a lot of casual readers would have forgotten it. But now it's front and center again and brings back bad connotations for Toga and a queer reading of her character.

Because again if we read her blood drinking as queerness, and Hori has already coded it in the past as lust while just last chapter confirming that Toga sees it as kissing in the very least we get two equally bad reads.

A) Due to fear of rejection Toga did not ask for consent and decided she'd just make sexual advances toward someone she had a crush regardless.

or B) She got rejected and told no, and then made the sexual advance anyway.

With a queer reading this only becomes worse because it pays into the really negative and even dangerous idea that same sex attracted people will go after anyone regardless of consent or the other persons orientation. It continues to perpetuate the idea that queer people are sexual predators, who target straight people or in the very least do not care about consent, or are unable to control themselves long enough to get it.

But even without a queer reading what Toga did is wrong. It sucks that people don't get her way of showing love, but consent is still needed regardless. You can't just do what you want to someone because you were to afraid to ask them out. You can't just do what you want with someone after they tell you no. Even if the boy had called her a monster that would not make it ok for Toga to, essentially sexually assault him (yes, kissing someone against their will is sexual assault, which is what Toga sees her blood drinking as).

And I think that's why Toga's character is really hard to get behind for some people--because at the end of the day she's literally just saying "I can't help but sexually assault people (and animals apparently)', and the solution to this is to give her exactly what she wants and apologize for not seeing how much pain she was in when she was actively trying to sexually assault people.