#didn’t even scratch the surface tbh

[mikewheelerisaboyliker]

going to educate my college class on byler

(we’re supposed to do something unrealistic like culture of costco or cats or video gaming)

[sansaorgana]

Hello love! I've just found your Buck fics and I love them!! Please can you write one where Buck comes home from the war but he has nightmares from being in the POW camp and he always manages to wake himself up before he wakes the reader up but one night you wake up first and then the reader wakes him up and tries to calm him down and reassure him that he's safe. Just Buck clinging onto his girl to remind himself that he's home? Thank you!

hi love! 🌺 thank you for this request! I love writing Buck fics no matter what but tbh I was growing a bit tired of the stories happening on the base etc. and I'm in love with some domestic Buck back at home! the next story I am going to write is about dad!Buck and I can't wait to write that one, too 😻 btw I mentioned Meatball here as usual because I love this dog and I miss him and I know Buck is technically not his owner but I love to imagine him adopting Meatball after the war lol

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

You were lucky – not only was your husband back home, but he was back home normal. Except for a few scars on his face and a few on his body, Buck seemed to be completely alright. It was almost alarming how normal he was.

He was the same man he had been before the war. Not that you had known him for long before – you had gotten married pretty fast, knowing that he could not come back from Europe. But to you he seemed to be the same man. He was soft for you, always trying to give you a smile, calm and stoic most of the time but also could make a good joke or tease a little. He seemed to act the same and you always wondered about it. You knew that he had to live through unimaginable horrors up in the air and when he was in the German camp. But he would never talk about it and you didn’t want to push him to talk.

You were a member of the local society for military wives and widows. You had meetings twice a week in the evening in a room given to you for that purpose by the local church. This community had helped you a lot mentally when Buck was in Europe, especially when he was in Germany. There were women with stories like yours… but worse. Some husbands were lucky enough to come back like your Buck – nearly scratched on the surface. But all those wives would eventually come back with some depressive story. One husband started to drink, the other started to be abusive, a few were constantly shell-shocked. Or traumatised as it was called now.

But not your Buck.

Sometimes you felt stupid for even speaking during those meetings. You felt as if you had no right to be there. Everything was fine with your Buck. He had never been a drinker and he was not now either. Even the war couldn’t change that. He didn’t start to gamble or sleep around either. There were many stories of infidelity. But once again, not from your Buck.

You even asked him about it one day. You just couldn’t believe – after listening to all these women’s stories – that he had been such a good and loyal husband to you. But he only looked at you as if you were crazy.

No, your Buck was not a cheater either.

“Recently I feel like these other women there don’t like me,” you told your friend when you were walking back home after one of the meetings in the evening. It was dark already but you lived in a safe neighbourhood and on the same street. You had become friends because both of you had husbands in Europe. But hers hadn’t come back.

“I’m not going to lie, (Y/N),” she sighed as you stood in front of her house. All the lights inside were off. Poor thing lived all alone now. “It’s difficult not to envy you.”

“It’s not like Buck had it easy!” You got defensive. “He went through hell!”

“I know,” she smiled sadly. “But he doesn’t show it.”

“I’m lucky, I know,” you took a deep breath in.

“Yes, you are. But I feel like all of them are lucky. Even the ones with drinking and cheating husbands. I wish mine was like that, too… At least he’d be back with me,” her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, darling…” You leaned in to give her a hug and kissed her cheeks. “Go, make yourself a tea, watch something on TV and go to sleep. I have to go now, it’s late. I’ll visit you tomorrow for coffee,” you promised her and she nodded her head.

You waved at each other goodbye and you crossed the street to go back home, too.

Surprisingly, Buck wasn’t waiting for you on the porch. He would usually do that because he wanted to make sure you’d come back home safely from the meetings.

Not only was he not on the porch but also all the lights inside your house were off, too. And when you wanted to enter the house, you noticed the doors were locked. You sighed and reached for the key inside your purse.

When you entered the house, you were greeted with silence. You locked the door behind you and took a walk around all the rooms on the ground floor. Meatball was sleeping on the carpet in the living room and you scratched him behind his ear before going upstairs.

Buck was in bed already, asleep. You smiled to yourself as you approached him to fix his duvet and put a kiss on his forehead. He had been struggling with a headache for the whole afternoon so you just wanted to leave him in peace, glad that he was finally resting. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, just like a little boy.

Quietly, you went to the bathroom to prepare yourself to go to bed, too. It was still quite early but you didn’t want to wake him up with the sound of TV or a radio.

When you were in your nightgown already, you turned the light in the bathroom off and you joined Buck in bed. You weren’t very sleepy so you just laid on your side and watched his side profile. You smiled to yourself and caressed one of the scars on his cheek gently.

After a while, when you were starting to drift off to sleep, you got startled by Buck’s sudden movement. He tossed around as his face winced a little. You furrowed your brows and rested on your elbow. He moved once again and trembled as incoherent words were leaving his half-parted lips.

You realised he was having a nightmare and it was painful to watch. He no longer reminded you of a peaceful boy. He was scared. You had never seen your husband scared.

“Buck, baby,” you whispered softly as you grabbed his arm, trying to shake him out of his dream. “Buck, come back to me, hey…”

His eyes opened as he sat up rapidly, taking deep breaths and wiping the fresh sweat off of his face.

“Buck…” You asked quietly and he turned around like he was surprised to see you there.

“(Y/N)... You’re back already?” He furrowed his brows as his lower lip trembled.

“Yes. What’s going on?” You asked him and tried to move closer but he flinched. You remained still, feeling a little hurt at his rejection. “Buck, what’s going on? You had a nightmare?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” he lied.

“It happens sometimes. Why don’t you want me to touch you?” You asked, carefully.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he confessed and hid his face in the palm of his hands.

“What?” You shook your head awkwardly. “You couldn’t know, come on, Gale, we all get bad dreams sometimes…” You caressed his back. His white shirt was wet from the sweat. You sighed and moved closer. He didn’t flinch this time and you tugged on the fabric of his shirt. “Come on, baby, let me help you change. You need a new pair of pyjamas.”

“It’s not sometimes,” he mumbled and you stopped pulling his shirt.

“Hm?” You asked and gently moved his hands away from his face. Your heart sank in your chest at the sight of the tears in the corners of your husband’s eyes. You had seen him cry only on special occasions like your wedding day or when he was back home. He hadn’t even cried when he was leaving because he didn’t want to make it even sadder and more difficult for you.

“I said…” Buck’s voice trembled, “that it’s not sometimes. I have them all the time, those dreams,” he explained.

You went silent for a while and then you left the bed to turn the small light on and sit back on the edge of the bed, holding his hands.

“Why haven’t you told me?” You asked, worryingly.

“I didn’t want you to worry and…” Buck took a deep breath in as he looked down. “...I didn’t want to spoil your life. I wanted to be the same as I was before. I didn’t want to come back only to ruin everything, to be weaker. It would be a disappointment for you.”

“Buck, stop,” you cupped his face and made him look at you again. His cheeks were damp already and it was breaking your heart. “I can’t listen to this, stop,” you shook your head and leaned in to press your forehead to his. “Baby, you can’t hide such things from me. You’re in pain and I’m your wife. I’m here to help you with the burden.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You are not one, you will never be. But you are carrying it and I want to help you. Oh, Buck, baby…” You hugged him and caressed the back of his head.

After a while of hesitation, he clinged to you and hid his face in the crook of your neck. You started to shush him and caress his back as you rocked him softly in your arms.

“Now, get out of that wet shirt,” you moved away slightly and helped him to take off his pyjamas.

You took them to the bathroom to put them in the laundry bin and you got him a fresh pair out of the closet.

“Do you want something to drink?” You asked and he shook his head as he was putting on his new pair of pyjamas. You waited for him to finish and you turned the light off before joining him in bed again.

“Gale, baby, come here,” you opened your arms and he laid his head down on your chest. You hugged him tight and placed a kiss upon his forehead. “What are your nightmares about?” You dared to ask.

“I’m back in Germany and they’re shooting us like dogs and I just… I just want to go back home to you,” he whispered as his voice broke. You felt tears forming in your eyes. “It’s so cold and I’m hungry and I realise that I won’t see you again. And it’s killing me to know that… That you’re here and you won’t ever see me again, too. And how heartbroken you will be when they tell you I’m dead. Even facing death I’m more scared and worried about you,” he continued. After opening up finally, he wanted to let it all out and you were listening to it while caressing his back gently. “I remember that song playing while we were dancing at our wedding. I remember you in that white dress, I remember your smile. And I think that’s when they kill me.”

“Gale…” you couldn’t stand to listen to it anymore. You didn’t want to shut him up but it was painful for you, too. “You’re home with me, love. You’re home with me, everything is alright now. You’re safe,” you assured him and leaned in to kiss the top of his head. “I won’t let anyone… anything, harm you,” you added.

Usually it was him telling you such things.

“Next time you have a nightmare, wake me up, please, baby,” you pleaded and he nodded but you knew he wouldn’t do that. He was too proud for that. You sighed and squeezed him tighter in your arms. “I love you, Gale.”

But he didn’t answer. He was already back asleep, tugging on your nightgown like a little boy. However, you were glad to see him so peaceful again.

It turned out that no man came back the same.

Not even your Buck.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[silverzoomies]

Summer Wind

tate langdon x reader smut

warnings: existential crisis, death, afterlife, implied/referenced character death, murder, angst, aged-up tate langdon, fingering, fingerfucking, kissing, canon divergence

word count: 4,690

a/n: another drabble. y'know that thing people do sometimes? where they "age-up" a character, but don't really age them up? i initially wrote this in response to that. but it somehow turned into a means of venting my existential terror instead. i was gonna include more smut. but tbh i didn't feel right about it. this one's gonna stay unfinished. sorry about the abrupt ending !!

inspired by the song summer wind by frank sinatra

You were dead for an indiscernible span of time.

You couldn't be sure how long. But you suspected a few years, at least. Through one of the top floor windows of your eternal purgatory; you watched the trees. Nature alternated between skeletal displays of branches, to vibrant arrays of color. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming again. Rinse and repeat.

Once you accepted your fate, things started clicking into place. Trapped in a vintage hotbox of murder, you put together the pieces of a long lost puzzle. And though some parts were still absent, you pushed yourself to move on. You might never figure out how you died, or who you were before. But to worry so much would be senseless at this point.

Through acceptance, you began to feel again. If only in small bursts. Abrupt, but worth cherishing.

One memory remained ever present. You had the sense you were a school guidance counselor in life. And in death, you took up the mantle again. Offering your services to the other souls lost in the house. One of the ghostly residents shared a similar occupation. Way back in his breathing years. He didn’t do it so much anymore. Instead, he spent time with his family, working towards redemption for his past actions.

You steered clear of most residents, fearful of their unpredictable episodes of bloodlust. They allowed the evil within the house to lure them further into madness. On the days they came to you for your services, you spoke to them in hopes they’d find absolution. Change in the afterlife was extremely difficult to achieve. Your 'clients' rarely ever scratched the surface of their tainted psyches. And any progress they made, they always resorted to their old habits in the end.

Only one of them ever found true change. Of course, he had to be the most wretched of them all.

You once felt sympathy for Tate, making excuses on his behalf. In the years when his heart still pumped blood through his veins; he was young. Misguided. Perhaps the pressures of his upbringing took too much of a toll on him. And in the afterlife, he suffered under the influence of the house itself. The evil buried deep within channeled through his broken soul.

But if such an evil did exist, it never took hold of you. Nor did it sink its venomous teeth into Violet, or her innocent mother, or that pure of heart baby, or even Ben Harmon himself - sinful a man as he was. They resisted, and so did you.

Tate was pure evil. Carnage incarnate. Maybe that made him susceptible to the influence of dark forces. But after talking with him for a few years, you accepted him for what he was. Foul from birth, deplorable in death. No matter how often you tried guiding him to goodness, he remained forever loathsome. The evil in him burned eternally, needing no kindling.

His own acceptance of that fact allowed him to change. In a more physical way, much like Moira. Tate embraced his fate, convinced the house was where he belonged. A punishment until the end of all things. Simultaneously, a safe haven from whatever lay in waiting after purgatory. Tate’s progress was very much real. Albeit, not the kind you aimed for.

You could see his growth in his features, rather than his morals. Sitting across from you during another weekly session, Tate fidgeted with a frayed hole in his jeans. With his blond brows creased, he stared down at the denim. As you watched him like this, you picked apart his finer details. Where his skin once beamed with the pale, ghostly image of youth; creases were now etched in. Faint, but noticeable lines curved under his eyes.

An aura of maturity emanated from him like a light much too dim. Tate carried the same mannerisms from his heyday - if one could even call it that. But he had long since graduated from his mentality of that era. Tate spoke of his past actions as if he regretted them, though you suspected he felt no real remorse. He used to cry all the time. He used to throw childish tantrums. But you couldn’t remember the last time you saw his soulless, black eyes water. Now…

He carried nothing but cold desolation. Common amongst those trapped in perpetual limbo.

“I saw her again today.” He admitted, his lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours, “She hasn’t changed any. Not like me. Not like…” Tate made a gesture at his face, his thumb grazing the angular shape of his jaw. Tiredly, he blinked, “Not like this. Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I always thought we were fated to be together forever, but…”

On the sofa across from him, you kept your cheek perched in a hand. As you scribbled in your notebook, you took note of the way Tate’s features bled misery. All at the mention of her. It must have been painful for him, watching her stay the same. While he finally outgrew himself. Those changes only further separated the two of them. Obliterating any chance he had to make amends. If there ever was.

There especially wouldn’t be now. Even Tate was on the tailend of coming to terms with it.

“How’d it make you feel this time around?” You pressed in a soft tone, shifting on the couch. His dark hues zeroed in on your thighs, bare in a simple dress. The lining appeared cheap, glittering with sequins reminiscent of childhood nostalgia, “When you saw her?”

“Fuckin’...I dunno…” Tate put his face in his vascular hands, fingers curling into his hair, “She’s like a kid to me anymore. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe she’s content like that. In the same way you’re content the way you are now.” You shrugged, tenderly laughing, “Maybe teenage angst suits her that much.”

He shook his head, shifting from a criss cross position on the loveseat across from you. Bouncing a leg, Tate gave you a pointed look. His brows turned downward.

“We thought it fit me too, didn’t we? But look at me now."

You were. You were looking at him a lot. And he wasn't wrong. Teenage angst once paired well with Tate's immature nature. Back when he thought like a kid, and acted on impulse. These days, he'd become more lethargic. When he wasn’t consumed with blood lust. Rugged virility was his partner now. Coupled with the melancholy existentialism of a man pushing thirty.

“You wanted to move on.” You clarified, your teeth clicking the edge of a pen at your lips.

“Did I?” Tate bitterly laughed, the empty vacuums of his eyes caught your tongue in motion, “Doesn't seem like anyone else here wants to. ‘Cept Moira.”

“Well, they only think they can’t. They believe they’re tethered here, frozen in time at their moment of death. I used to think growth was impossible too. Until you…”

You took in his masculine features again. The scruff around his chin. So fair, and not too noticeable. Catching yourself in the midst of ogling him, you redirected your gaze to Tate’s eyes. Imposing. Starless. Easy to get lost in. He wasn’t ignorant to your attraction. A hint of grin pulled into his laugh lines and dimples.

“Does it scare you?” He asked, “What’s your excuse then?” Tate threw a condescending nod of his head, “If you’re so enlightened. If you know better than all of us - with your morals ‘n bullshit like that. Why haven’t you changed any since you died?"

Shrugging, you looked bashfully down at your notes.

“Why would I want to? If I can stay young for eternity. If I can keep these curves, and what’s left of my youth. What’s the point in growing older?” You admitted in truth.

“That’s a little superficial though, isn’t it?” Tate leaned back into the loveseat cushions, “Shit like that doesn’t matter here. Who are you tryna impress? And what’s anybody living gonna think? When they meet you, and find out you’re nothin’ but food for maggots now.” He teased, legs spread, one knee bouncing, “There’s gotta be another reason you haven’t moved on. You’re not like us. I dunno why you and the Harmons don’t just…y’know…go.” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap.

You saw his bitterness return in full force. Another miserable wave of longing washed over him. Yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore, and never would again.

“I…” You paused, doodling hasty flowers in your notebook. You avoided Tate’s eyes, “I wanna know how I died first. I wanna know who I was. Before I even consider moving on.”

Sinister acidity flashed through his vision, “Seriously? That’s what’s stopping you?” Tate huffed a harsh laugh, admitting without missing a beat, “You wanna know how you died? I’ll tell you. I stuck a knife in your back and stabbed you to death.” He confessed, monotone, “You know it too. You’ve known since we met. You’ve just been in denial this whole time.”

You sat up in an abrupt movement, scooting forward and tossing your notebook away.

“What?! What are you even talking ab-…I’ve been trying to figure this out for years, Tate! Years!” You threw out your hands, “You…you can’t be serious! Why would I be in denial about something like that??”

Tears of betrayal stung the corners of your eyes. Tate shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He crossed his arms, his eyes dark under the ridges of his brows.

“‘Cuz you feel bad for me. Or…uhm…you wanna feel bad for me.” He shrugged again, “Fuck if I know why. I’m the last guy you should have sympathy for.” Tate said, his black hues narrowing in thought.

“You didn’t…did you really stab me? Really? You’re not lying about that?” You almost shouted, clawing your fingers through your hair, “Please. Please tell me you’re lying!”

Tate appeared unfazed, ignoring you, “Do you love me or something? Is that why you’re so broken up about this?” He asked, desperate in his infinite search for validation.

“Why the fuck would you stab me?!” You shouted, full of wrathful turmoil.

You stood off the couch, surging toward him with your fists balled at your sides. Tate didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, thoughtful again. With an insufferable aura of nonchalance, he shrugged once more.

“Wanted to.”

The blank emptiness in his expression told you everything you already knew. Tears streamed down your face, painting your cheeks and chin in damp threads.

“Where? Where did you stab me??”

Tate gestured with a nod of his head, towards the only window in the room. A summer breeze fluttered, catching the curtains in its dance. You wanted to find the radiant light of nature beautiful again. But it only served as a haunting reminder - the environment remained symbiotic with time. And you were forever left behind.

“Over there. By that window.” He said, watching you pad over to said window, the skirt of your dress fluttering.

The window. In the one room you always felt so drawn to, for reasons unknown. Now, you knew. Bracing your hands on the windowsill, you peered your head outside. Ghosting your skin, the air breathed an essence of life. Something you were no longer a part of. You used to be content with that fact. But now? Knowing your life was unfairly ripped from you, how could you ever move on? Your death wasn’t an accident. Nor had an irreversible illness seized your physical form. Just Tate.

His low voice droned from behind you and in your ear. A faint vibration followed, along with a presence at your back. You felt the soft texture of his sweater, but no body heat with it. One of his icy hands met your shoulder. He reached his other arm out. Tate pointed to a spot near the entrance gates.

“I didn’t wanna tell you. Because I didn’t wanna lose you too. But…” He paused for a beat, “It was on Halloween. Ten years or so years ago, I guess. I was gonna leave. Make my rounds. Y’know…like I used to. The house was-uh...up for grabs back then. You came up to the door. One of the kids here opened it for you. And you kinda...walked in. Tried lookin' for 'em. Wrong place, wrong time.” Tate lowered both his hands to yours, after sliding his fingers down the sides of your arms, “You were holdin’ hands with some kid the whole time. He had to be, like…seven? Eight? I don’t even remember what his costume was.” His lips curved in a grin, “But I still remember yours.”

Your fingers curled into the sill, scraping wood, indenting the paint.

Ten years.

“So, you stabbed me in front of a child?”

Another breeze blew by. The steady air picked up your dress with it, flitting delicate fabric. Glitter along the seams of it fell away, sparkling like microscopic crystallites in the wind. Tate’s long fingers drew patterns over the cold surface of your skin. Tracing infinity symbols onto your hands.

“Rapunzel.” He whispered, “That dress was kinda pretty on you. Sucks about all the blood.”

You remembered then. When death imbued you with unexpected consciousness, you wandered around the house in a blood-stained dress. And ever since, your afterlife wardrobe alternated only between dresses of similar styles. Always cheap fabrics. Decorated in craft materials. You assumed you must’ve loved playing dress up in life. The thought of perishing in a store bought Halloween costume never crossed your mind.

“Who was he?”

You sniffled, breath hitching without any need for oxygen. Tate brought a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. He loomed behind you. A cold-blooded apparition of your nightmares. His casual talk of violent depravity made your blood boil.

“Who, the kid?” He asked.

He lowered his hands to the sill. Looking out the window over your shoulder, Tate squinted in the sunlight.

“Yes! I don’t-” You burst into tears without warning, sobbing into your hands, “I-I don’t remember anything! Nothing! I had no idea…who was he??”

“Dunno…” he dropped his head, pressing his cheek to your hair, “I didn’t really stop to ask. He ran away. Right after I pushed you out of this window.”

“You pushed m-what?! You’re a fucking monster.” You whimpered. Wishing you could leap out and disappear with the oscillation of the wind, “You know you’re never getting out of here, don’t you? You’re never going to change, Tate. You’ll always be a monster.”

“Probably.” He droned, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, he added, “You’ll be stuck here too. If you don’t let go of that anger. If you let your rage consume you. All that bitterness and hatred. This house feeds off of it.” Another pause. He nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, “Uhm…I know this won’t fix anything. But…I really am sorry I took your life from you.”

You huffed, staring teary eyed out the window. Taking in the vast, effervescent world you’d never be a part of - through the border that brought your demise.

“But I’m really stoked you’re here….’cuz it’s not as lonely with you around.” He admitted.

“I could always tell you to fuck off.” You choked, venomous in your revulsion.

“Yeah. You could. But you won’t.” He grabbed your arms with gentle hands, wheeling you around to face him. He took your tiny fingers in his palms. You refused to meet his eyes, “If you made me disappear, you wouldn’t have anybody.”

You decided to hit him where it hurt, strangling through tears, “I could always talk to Violet. She has such a good heart. Not like the rest of you. You’re all just…awful. So horrible and cruel!”

Tate clenched his jaw, dropping his forehead into yours.

“You’re right. She’s not.” He woefully mumbled, “How come I still miss her, huh? Been missin’ what we had for, like…forever. Now I’m pushin’ you away too. And you’re all I have left.”

“Maybe stop killing people, Tate?” You snuffed, tears catching your eyelashes. He wiped them away all the same, “Who knew death could be so miserable. I…I finally found out the one thing I’ve wanted to know after all these years. I thought a little closure might help me, but…” You cried, “I feel even more messed up.”

“Why? Do you love me?” He pressed with so little confidence, you felt he only said it to convince himself.

“I…” You hesitated, brows furrowed, “I cared about you. Even though you’re a lunatic. I wanted to give you a chance. But now…now I just want to shove you out this window like you did to me. I want to scream at you, Tate! I want to make you suffer! I want to-”

He shifted closer. Within this vicinity, his maturation became all the more clear. Your weeping hues glazed over the creases under his eyes. The blond bangs of his hair had thinned by a smidgen, losing its youthful shagginess. He was all fine lines and outward exhaustion. Had you met him like this in life, you’d think him a mere decade away from a mid-life crisis.

“Go ahead. If it helps. I don’t mind.” He reached down again, grabbing your hands and guiding them up to his chest, “Just let all that rage go…you can take it out on me.”

This was just another tactic of his. An attempt to appease you, in desperate hopes you’d forgive him. Still, you didn’t think twice. Whatever wrathful anguish you kept buried inside finally erupted. The soul crushing weight of loss tumbled down over you, sending you into a frenzy. You thrashed your arms, throwing your fists in shallow, but sharp strikes. Battering against Tate’s chest, you landed every blow - inspired by betrayal. He remained still, watching you with a hollow look.

Hits turned to scratches as your grief took hold of you. You clawed into Tate’s sweater, wailing, powerless to the pain of his disloyalty. Taken aback by your overwhelming emotions, you wondered how the afterlife could bring so much suffering. Tate wrapped his arms around you again, and you buried your nose in his sweater. Your sorrowful tears stained the stitching.

“I hate you. So much. So fucking much.” You whimpered.

“You said you cared about me.”

“I hate that I care about you.” You cried, sobbing into his sweater, “I-I want to hate you. I need to hate you. But you’re right. You’re fucking vile, and you’re right. If you were gone, I wouldn’t have anybody else.”

Shifting again, he tilted your head up with a cold hand under your chin. Tate stared down at you, weary with lonesome desolation. The endless monotony of purgatory brought forth nothing but turmoil. And that turmoil linked you both in all-consuming angst. When he dove in to kiss your lips, you allowed it. If only to feel something far less painful.

Tate hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. But he flowed naturally with you, wary of applying too much pressure. The last of your tears fell, and again, he wiped them away. Separation came slow, as he parted from your lips. He blinked, leering like he couldn’t believe you reciprocated. Another beat, and he dove in all over again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Kissing in your ghostly state felt bleak as the dull air of winter. In the throes of lonesome yearning, death nuzzled death so intimately. You opened yourself up for him, moving back until you hit the windowsill. In your negligence, you sat on it. A calm, easy breeze enveloped your back, tickling your neck. His desirous kisses swallowed you in, his hands claiming your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his words weaving through every kiss.

Fate had yet to deliver you closeness of this kind. You couldn’t fathom how intimate connectedness might work in death. As Tate’s cold lips fell to your neck, the atmosphere between the two of you shifted. Something akin to the radiance of life saturated the air. Like the summer’s glow shining from outside. A few seconds more, and coldness turned to heat. Sensual heat.

“What does it feel like?” You asked, breathless without the need for air. You tipped your head back. Tate took this as an invitation to ravish more of you, “To make love after dying?”

The glossy warmth of his tongue painted gradual lines across your neck. He caressed you with a thumb, gliding the digit over your cheek. Under the newfound heat of his palm, you felt burning intensity. No one else brought you physical touch like this. Not since a time before you perished, so long ago.

All because of him.

“Feels kinda the same?” Tate muttered in a hushed voice. Capturing your lips again, he kissed you with cautious tenderness, “It’s a lot like being alive…from what I remember. Some of us get addicted to it. Like a drug. They suffer without it. Drives ‘em crazy.”

His forehead fell to yours once more, and Tate’s eyes fluttered shut. He continued stroking your cheek, cradling your face. As if you’d disappear once he let go. You noticed the way his chest heaved. Slowly, like his lungs were still infused with the essence of life. But when he moved in for another kiss, you felt no breath on your lips.

“Does it drive you crazy?” You whispered between kisses, “Do you suffer without it?”

“Not really.” He said, dragging his thumb over your lip, “Missed this, though. I miss it all the time.”

“What? Kissing?”

Tate nodded, blond brows creasing as his smile faded. For a beat or two more, he fell silent. Staring down into your eyes with all the liveliness of a barren void. You gazed into a cave-like abyss, lost with no light to guide you. Beckoned by the promise of something unseen.

“This feels…different…with you.” He whispered.

“Different how?” You shivered as his soft touches moved elsewhere, "Are you feeling guilty? Does it hurt? I hope it fucking hurts."

Dragging the tips of his fingers up and down your arms, he drew invisible lines with his nails. So careful. Like you’d shatter if he treated you too roughly. His palms settled over your hips, and again, he kissed you. Tate just couldn’t seem to stop doing so, even as you spoke to him with poison on your tongue.

“No. It’s warmer.” He squeezed your hips a little tighter, “Why…why’s it so warm with you?”

The initial kisses between you both were so frigid and lifeless. But now, somehow, so heated and real. You locked your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles. Inviting him forward, you loomed in the sill of the window. Your body tilted. In the arms of the summer’s air, you almost fell backwards. You had every reason to believe Tate would let you plummet.

But he didn’t. Not this time.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you from slipping. Under your dress, his free hand sought the heat between your legs. His palm cradled warmth over thin cloth. Discreetly, he pressed the pads of his fingers to your sex over your panties. And the contact amplified a scorching fire within you. A vigor exceeding the bitterness of death.

You wondered if Tate had less experience than he claimed in therapy. It took him a few tries before he found your clit. His sizable fingers circled your little nub in easy motions. Drawing long, needy noises out of you. Silence lingered between you both in calm, but tense quiet. Until the rasp of his voice caught your attention.

“Do you feel this? Do you feel, like…anything?”

You whimpered in response - timid like a churchmouse - as wetness stained Tate’s fingers through fabric. Cotton once so pure and untouched became damp. He chuckled, the sinister rumble in his throat making your blood run cold. Until the warmth of desire lured you in before you could second guess yourself. Savoring the hot friction on your pussy, you allowed sin to taint your clarity.

"For you? No. Never. You're sick. You're twisted. You're-" You cut yourself off with another whimper, once Tate caressed you with more pressure.

“Oh, shit…” He hastily tugged your panties down your thighs. Cupping your bare cunt, he pressed firmly into your clit. Thick digits teased the blazing heat of your folds, “You do, don’t you?”

Tate’s fingers dipped into your slick valley, his digits predominantly larger than your own. You rolled your hips just a smidgen, careful not to lose your balance - lest you fall out the window. Again. Though, maybe a rough tumble onto the lawn would knock some sense back into your muddled head. His other arm stayed iron locked around your body, keeping you safe. He eased inside you with all the hesitance of a man out of practice.

"F-Fuck! Fuck this. Fuck you." You mumbled, hushed under airy moans.

Following the squeeze of pleasure in your core, came something you lost in the afterlife. You almost felt the pumping of your dead heart again. A ghostly sensation of life blossomed under your ribs. Warmth flowed through your veins in syrupy bliss. Cozy wind billowed from outside, tickling your skin. If you closed your eyes for long enough, basking in the ecstasy of true feeling - you might’ve believed you were somehow revived.

Flitting your lashes, your eyes gradually opened. The sunny glow of afternoon light painted Tate’s aged features, showering him in golden rays. An image far too heavenly for a cold-blooded monster birthed from sin. You looked lazily into his hues. A whirlpool of guilt intermingling with lifeless cruelty; all within his dusky eyes.

“Feels like…” He mumbled, clumsily nuzzling your clit with the pad of his thumb. Biting his lip, Tate stifled a groan. He buried his fingers to the knuckle in your cunt, “...like I can feel your blood pumping.” Adding a third digit, he stretched you open. Your walls made effortless room just for him. You whined, making him smirk, “Fuck, this is hot. You love it, huh?”

"No. No. No, I'd never! Not with you. I'm just-" You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn, "It really does feel like-"

Post-mortem coldness became lost on you now. Left behind, alongside your broken hearted resentment. Instead, you were overcome with the lively spirit of beingness. The afterlife had been so unkind to you. For a decade now. It abandoned you to stew in the longevity of solitude. With no one but Tate to provide you true company. Bringing your hands up to his cheeks, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his blond locks. Winding your tongue sloppily with his, you whined.

"Make me cum." You asserted, your legs sealing tighter around him, "Make me cum, and I might forgive you."

A flash of vulnerable sweetness overtook Tate's face, his puppydog eyes lighting up. An almighty flood of euphoria built up to a radiant crescendo, as his digits fucked you into oblivion. You clamped around his fingers, squirming with such intensity - he almost lost his hold on you. Tranquility found you at the peak of your climax. A divine miracle. As you cried little pleas into Tate’s lips, you felt as though you grew angel’s wings. As if some ethereal being descended from the heavens themselves, stole you away, and led you to the golden gates.

As you shuddered, your paradisal tremors eventually subsided. Blissful nirvana faded, and the hollow nothingness of death’s touch came again. Outside, the world continued on in slow-moving seconds. And in the distant horizon, the sun began its steady fall into night. Tate’s nose brushed yours. Looming in so close, he withdrew his drenched digits from your pussy. Leaving even more forsaken emptiness behind.

“I could…do that kinda thing for you every day…if you wanted me to.” He whispered, peppering your forehead in kisses, “It feels really good, doesn’t it? Just…please don’t make me go away? Please…”

[castielli]

Quarterback!Sangyeon x Student President!Male reader

Request by @leedosbunnyboy sorry it took so long! 🥹 (didn’t reread that tbh, sorry if it’s weird)

Sangyeon walked in the halls, rushing towards the cafeteria. He cleaned his sweaty, trembling palms on his jeans, before opening the cafeteria’s doors. He scanned the big, crowded room, looking for his friends. His search didn’t take long as he noticed a loud table full of boys. He walked quickly towards them, fixing his jacket before sitting down next to Jacob.

“I saw him in the halls” are the first words he said to his friends.

The rest of the boys laughed at him, some patting his back. The rest of the students turned to look at the loud group, sighing as they are used to their chaos.

“Not even a ‘hello!” Changmin said from the other side of the table, still laughing at his friend. By now, all of them knew every detail about your life and how much Sangyeon is head over heels for you.

Sangyeon sighed loudly “I can’t do this…” he said as he placed his head on the cold surface of the table in front of him.

His friends tried to not burst out laughing again, some covering their mouths while some others almost seemed to be exploding.

“Get your ass up, walk up to him and ask! It’s not that difficult dude…” Hyunjae said as he looked exasperated and tired of the constant topic of their conversations being you.

“I can’t just walk up to him! What if he finds me weird? What if his friends laugh at me? What if he rejects me? What if-“ Sangyeon kept on listing, his friends rolling their eyes and mumbling about how stupid Sangyeon is.

- two days after -

Kevin and Jacob stood behind some lockers with Sangyeon, waiting for you to arrive. They looked attentively around, trying to spot you. It didn’t take long. There you were, walking towards their hiding spot with your friends.

Sangyeon’s face was combusting, his hands were sweating, his legs felt like jelly.

As soon as you passed near them, Jacob and Kevin pushed Sangyeon towards you. He turned back to scream at his friends, when he noticed you were looking at him confused.

“Uh…hi, Y/N” Sangyeon said as he scratched the back of his neck, trying to not look into your deep eyes.

You just smiled, some of your friends laughing at the scene. “Hi, Sangyeon” you said as you waited for him to speak up.

“Uhm, I was wondering if-“ before Sangyeon could finish, he felt a cold sensation on his body, he looked down at his white t-shirt, noticing a brown, big spot on it.

You looked at him, trying not to laugh, covering your mouth as you took a tissue out of your pocket, trying to clean up Sangyeon’s shirt.

He looked down at your hand on his body, his face becoming so red and hot you could see smoke coming out of his ears.

You could hear some other students laughing at the scene before their eyes, and Sangyeon could too, of course. He felt so embarrassed and stupid…he ran away. He started to run so fast towards a bathroom trying to hide from everyone, but mostly you.

He knew it was a bad idea. He knew it! He just embarrassed himself in front of you.

- the next day -

His friends somehow convinced to try again. So now he started walking towards the student council room, waiting for you to come out after your meeting. He held his phone in his hands as he kept on waiting for that damn bell to ring, which finally happened some seconds later.

Some students started walking out, and you did the same, walking the opposite way of where Sangyeon was standing. He started following you, when he noticed a girl stopped you. He watched from afar, trying to listen to your conversation.

“Wanna go to prom with me…?” The girl asked you, smiling and looking down at the floor, too embarrassed to keep the eye contact.

Sangyeon felt sick, he failed. Again. He walked away, not even wanting to hear your answer, seeing the smile on your face as you looked at that random girl.

- the day after -

Sangyeon sat on a bench, fixing his shoes as he got ready for the match. He sighed thinking about what happened the day before. He hates it.

“Stop thinking about him, you need to be ready for this” Eric said as he patted Sangyeon’s back. The only response he got was a sad nod from the quarterback.

The venue was loud, all the students excited to watch the match against the rival school. Sangyeon honestly didn’t care.

At least until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He sighed, thinking it was Eric, but he was proved wrong when he raised his head to see you smiling down at him.

“Good luck!” You said as you messed his hair with your hand, smiling at his confused and red face. You chuckled as you handed him a small, folded paper, before walking away.

The only thing he could read without opening it was ‘open only if you win’.

And guess what happened? Sangyeon and the rest of the team played so well they destroyed the other school.

As soon as the team finished cheering, the quarterback quickly opened the paper, reading:

‘Come to prom with me? [yes] [yes]’

[for-ships-that-never-sail]

Ignore me, I’m just talking into the void about how Peneloise needed to have their fight and break up for Polin to happen and how I wish Polin stayed secret from El for at least a day longer

Eloise is a main reason why Colin never really caught on to the depth (or rather, the direction of the depth) of his feelings for Pen until now, and he would not have gotten there so fast this season if Eloise was still around.

Even though Colin’s new sexual experience and Pen’s practical need for a marriage this season really played a huge role in speeding things up, could you imagine what that same scenario would have been like if Peneloise were still cool?

….Sexy Pirate Colin shows up and gets his fake flirt on with everyone - if Eloise knows about Pen being LW and was cool with it, Pen really wouldn’t have been calling Colin out on his new personality, or what he said last season, to get him wondering if he should be faking everything this hard to fit in with the Fuckboi Lord Squad and the ton, and to get him on the journey of accepting himself as he is, because El probably wouldn’t have let Pen call him out through LW or even in person tbh - and if El didn’t know about LW, yeah, if not in person, Pen could at least still talk shit as LW, but would she have had the need to? Cause El would have been by her side for her glow up, Pen would still be awks at the ball but if she ran out in distress El would’ve gone with her so even if Colin also ran after her it would’ve played out differently, private lessons wouldn’t have been a thing at all, and if Colin were trying to say something to Pen about all his new ‘tips and tricks on charm from when I was whoring across Europe’ El would’ve always been there turning it all into debate club because of her reasonable disdain for the practical reasons Pen needed to marry this season…. and that’s barely scratching the surface

Though it’s unintentional (or at least not maliciously intentional), Eloise has truly always been one of the biggest cockblocks for Polin, so I’m actually hella glad that they had their little friendship breakup allowing Polin to learn what they are to each other alone, and for Pen and El to find themselves separately too

I actually want their distance to stay that way a bit longer in that sense - like allow the couple their honeymoon period without interference - I know that’s not what’s gonna happen and El will immediately and quite reasonably bring the LW issue to play. Still, it would have been nice if Polin could have just been in their secret love bubble alone for longer than that glorious carriage ride

I guess that part is a bit on Colin too lol - if that man wasn’t so desperate to immediately put a ring on it and publicly announce it 10 seconds into their relationship El wouldn’t have had to get back on the cockblock train so fast. I’m in no way saying she’s wrong to do it… obviously Pen needs to come clean on LW, but GAHHHHHH

All I’m saying is

El 🐓🚫 (years) > No El but Polin still just at 👀(2-3 weeks) > Polin finally at 🗣️🫴🏼🐱🫦💥💍 (a handful of minutes 👀😉) > El is immediately back at it like👩🏻‍⚖️🧾🐓🚫

And I just wanted that💥 part to 💥💥💥 at least that oneeee night instead of the drama starting straight out of the carriage 😫 Go to sleep El! Threaten Pen with your ultimatum and start cockblocking them TOMORROW - That girl is currently in such a state of euphoria she doesn’t even knowwww she’s LW and I want her to stay in her horny stress-free love bubble a bit more before you come at her reminding her of her crimes against humanity 😫😭 loll

[hwavsg4ch4n]

Men I Trust || L.F

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, bestie!Felix, soft dom!Felix, college au, Cheating, mentions of alcohol, penetration (F receiving), cursing, foreplay, public teasing, slight degradation

Note: omg haiii, I haven’t posted in so long wowwww. It feels good to be back tbh. I wanted to give you guys a good length worth of plot and smut as an apology for disappearing for so damn long. I have a lot of Ideas brewing, might end up looking like an unofficial KINKTOBER lol. Maybe next year I’ll do an official one haha.

Description: Felix wants to support you in anyway he can, even if it means bending his morals ever so gently

this is a work of fiction, not real… yeah

It was like a frown was permanently etched onto your features. “Girl…” you looked up from your textbook with tired eyes, being met with your friends' lively ones. You hummed in response, “Where is your boyfriend? Wasn’t he supposed to pick you up like 2 hours ago?” your lips parted as you flipped over your phone, thinking you missed tons of phone calls, secretly you were hoping you did miss calls; it would help the anxious thoughts. 

At last, nothing. Not a text, not a voicemail, not a missed call, nothing. You sighed, “maybe he got caught up with something.” while offering your friend a tightlipped smile that she didn’t buy, you tried calling your boyfriend. Your already fake grin faltering as it went straight to voicemail. While being focused on your phone, you didn’t even realize another friend of yours reaching your table. “Hey girls!” You didn’t register his voice, too busy trying to figure out where your boyfriend was; did he turn his location off?

You called again, and again, all while looking down at the lacquered wooden table, scratching at the waxy surface too embarrassed to look up and face your friends. “Anthony!” you chimed as he answered after the second to last ring. “Y/n i’m busy.” You frowned, your heart racing as you heard laughter and music in the background. “Oh, I thought you would be picking me up. Did you forget again? Anthony, you- where even are you?” 

Felix raised his brows in question, looking to your mutual friend that sat next to him in disappointment. He knew about the problems between your current boyfriend, he once had to call him for you on his phone; you were too scared and didn’t want to be perceived as pushy or clingy. However, it’s common sense to know a person can only be pushed but so far.

“Y/n please, not this again. I don’t have time for this, you can find a ride home baby. Maybe ask Felix? Lauren?” You scoffed as he sounded annoyed, “Find a fucking ride home? Are you serious? I’ve been waiting in this damn library for you, for more than 2 hours. Now I need to find a ride home?” Your friends watched as tears of frustration welled up into your eyes. “How about I make it up to you later, hm? You know where my spare key is.” You knew what he was suggesting, and somehow it made you even more upset. First he bails, and then tells you to wait up to 3 more hours at his empty apartment just to have the worst sex of your life, as an apology. Nevertheless, you said okay tiredly, mostly to just hang up.

You put your phone down with a heavy sigh, finally looking up to see who joined your table. Even Though it was subtle, a smile spread across your face. “Hey, Lix.” He smiled back in an attempt to hide his worry. “Hey, wanna share what that was about?” he let out a little chuckle. You huffed, “I told Anthony that me and Lauren would be studying so he offered to pick me up at 4pm, obviously he ditched me… again. I should’ve fucking known,” at this point you were ranting, your friends didn’t mind. “He’s never been on time before so why now, right?” You let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Also, can you believe that he tries to make it up to me with sex every fucking time? Sex, that’s not even good? I bet he can’t even spell the word clit!” your friends' mouths were parted at your outburst, Felix chuckling as he held back a blush. You apologized, “I’m sorry it’s just… I’m stressed. He stresses me in every which way.” Your hands rubbed at your neck in an attempt to soothe.

“Wanna go to the club?” Felix suggested. You looked at him straight faced, trying to figure out if you heard him correctly. “The club? really?” Felix shrugged, “why not? You guys study almost every night. That’s enough stress already y/n, you need to let loose, have a few drinks.” He shot a smile at you. You looked at Lauren who was nodding along. “Why not, girl? You have too much on your plate. Maybe you’ll meet someone better tonight. I know I will.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. You rolled your eyes, looking at the time. 5:30pm.

You looked down at your textbook and notes. Sighing, you muttered a “Sure.”,  giving in quicker than usual. Felix clapped excitedly, ushering the nearby librarian to pay him with a hurried “shush”.

-

You fit into your cutest outfit. A black mini skirt paired with a black lace lingerie bodysuit snug against your figure. You felt serene as your music hummed in your room. Singing along to your favorite songs as you put on makeup. Dolling yourself up almost felt like meditation. You took in deep breaths every time you applied something to your skin, exhaling when you blended it out. It felt good… you felt good. At least until your phone dinged, and you found yourself hoping it would be Anthony begging and pleading for forgiveness, asking why you’re not at his place. Nonetheless, the dings were just YouTube notifications with the occasional email and period tracker app making it known you’re ovulating.

You were applying your deep brown lip liner when you heard a knock on your cracked door. You hummed as a signal to let the person come in. In the reflection of your vanity mirror you saw Felix with a completely different outfit from earlier.

A black t-shirt, a bit shorter than usual, if he raised his arms you could see one of the reasons why he’s so popular with the opposite sex. His oversized cargo pants fit him like a dream. His fingers clad with his favorite rings.

“You look pretty.” he complimented. You smiled at him through your reflection in gratitude while reaching for your lip gloss. “I bought you that ring didn’t I?” Felix gave you a bright smile, nodding as he plopped himself on your bean bag chair. “You did.” He muttered. He watched you as you applied your lipgloss, deep in thought. “Y/n,” he says, you hum back urging him to continue. “You deserve better, you know that right? I don’t think I need to tell you that but… I figured it wouldn’t hurt to tell you.” You turned to look at him, “Sometimes Felix, I feel like I have a huge stamp on my forehead that reads garbage.” You chuckled. “But I’ll get over it.” You shrug, carefully putting on your favorite gold hoop earrings.

He shook his head, sitting up straighter. “Absolutely not, no. Some men are just … dickheads. It’s not your fault, it never will be I promise. You’re amaz-” you let out a hearty laugh as he rambled at a lower octave, watching you turn around and douse your face in one more layer of settling spray. “Lixie,” he looked at you wide eyed to show he’s all ears. “Save the pep talks for tomorrow and just help me get drunk and have fun tonight, okay?” Felix raised his hands up In defense, nodding. “Deal.”

You smiled, getting up and walking to your closet, “Now help me pick out some heels, please and thank you.”

-

The music blared as two of your closest friends pulled you straight to the bar. 

Lauren urged you all to take shots before the lot of you left, telling you that some of her friends are there, that shes plans on leaving with them. Felix complained and you took two tequila shots, no biggie. But now she’s yelling at the bartender to open her tab and give you each 4 shots of 818t. You didn’t protest, just giggling at Felix’s look of bewilderment as the 4 shots were placed in front of him.

The two of you watched Lauren down her first two. “Ever heard of pace yourself?” Felix yelled over the blaring music. The crowd cheered as the smoke machine turned on, becoming one with the strobe lights. 

You turned to Felix after Lauren told him to shut up. “Fuck it!” You giggled, downing all your shots. Felix laughed along, downing his as well. 

“Here babe,” Lauren passed you two more, justifying her reasoning by saying “it’s for good luck!” Before she got lost in the crowd of movement to find her friends. You tilted your head back. It hit you, all the shots you took hit you like a truck. Teetering the thin line between tipsy and drunk, you grabbed Felix’s hand. “Dance with me Lix!” You smiled sweetly at him, hoping off your barstool and tugging him behind you.

After finding a comfortable spot within the crowd of moving bodies, your arms made their way around Felix’s neck. You smiled up at him excitedly, he looked down at you smiling, chuckling as he tried to keep you steady. “You drunk yet?” Felix winced as you yelled a bit too loud, forgetting that he’s closer than you think. 

“I’m trying to fight off the drunk, but I think I’m falling.” His words were slightly slurred, his freckled cheeks were tinged pink. You laughed, “I can tell, your cheeks are redder than the lights.” Felix shook his head as you tapped his cheeks, using whatever sobriety he had left in his being to keep you from bumping into too many strangers.

“No more talking, I’m dancing!” Before Felix could respond you turned around, your back pressing against his front, in an acceptable proximity Felix didn’t think twice about. But then his brain froze when you took his hands and placed them on your mid section. The cool temperature of his silver rings chilled your skin mildly as you felt it through your lace top. You sighed at the contrasting feeling, the rest of your body felt on fire and the alcohol warms you. Unbeknownst to you, your head fell to his shoulder slowly while your eyes closed in euphoria. You needed this, an escape with your friends. You sighed, relaxing into Felix as the music controlled your movements.

“Oh.” He muttered in surprise. His body heated, the tequila making him more aware than he should be. Felix gulped, licking his lips as he looked down. Taking In your skin, he witnessed you putting on body glitter when you all left the house. He didn’t let it soak in before, but now his vision is slightly blurred and the glitter was extra shiny. The strobe lights, blue and red, were hitting the highest points of your body that was exposed to him. We’re you fucking glowing? His breathing started to labor as you pressed against him harder, moving your hips with his at a pace that had him questioning if this moment was real. 

“Y/n…?” He muttered, “Yeah?” You sighed out, sounding almost breathless. “W-what are you doing?” He breathed into your neck, blinking slowly as he observed your closed eyes and sly smirk. “I’m dancing, idiot. What else?” You raised one of your hands and pulled him down by the back of his neck so your lips grazed his ear. “You need to keep up, Lix.” You say playfully.

His breath hitched, his hold on your midsection tightening slightly without his control. He was warm, he felt really warm, almost on the brink of breaking a sweat.

You swayed, grinded, giggled and tightened your grip on the back of his neck ever so slightly as your other hand stroked his forearm. It felt heavily to be touched this way, you didn’t know the last time you had been. Your foggy drunk mind didn’t care that the touches were from one of your closest friends, if anything you felt safer. The only thing you could think about was the smell of his cologne, the music and the heat radiating off him. It felt overwhelming in the best way possible, you hummed while following the rhythm. Feeling his grip on your torso tightening, you bit your bottom lip. Heat pooling to the place that has craved proper attention for months.

Felix cleared his throat, trying to slow down his heartbeat. And then he felt it, you slightly brushing off him only to deliver a deep grind against his center. He huffed, “Y-Y/n.” You shushed him. “Just feel the music, have fun.” His breath labored as he felt you grind against him harder, swiveling your hips, bending your knees slightly, your mostly exposed back brushing against his chest, he was sure your perfume would be embedded in his shirt.

“Shit” he thought, the heat, all the flustered heat that he felt was now migrating to one place. He tried his best to fight it, he really did. But when you smell like this, when you look like this, when you feel like this, Felix couldn’t help it. The tent in his pants formed and took shape against your bottom. Your movements started to focus only in that area; you knew. Of course you knew, you’re not dumb, it was painfully obvious that you didn’t care either.

Felix fought for a steady breath as you moved against him. He cleared his throat now and then trying to remain sane, trying not to fuck up whatever was going on. And then it dawned on him where you two were. “Y/n, we’re uhm, we’re in public.” His words came out gruff and breathless.

You didn’t stop moving as you responded, “What are you suggesting?” You smirked, slow turning around to meet his eyes. When Felix met your eyes in the blaring lights, his member pulsed. “Cat got your tongue Lixie?” His lips parted only to close when your thumb traced his Adam's apple gently. “Jesus.” He whispered, you couldn’t hear.

“Can I kiss you here?” You ask slightly slurred. “Uhm, w-what about Antho-” you frowned, shaking your head. “Don’t fucking worry about him, he’s not as much man as you are.” You knew how to stroke his ego perfectly. Felix nodded, “Only if you’re sure.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s only a silly peck.”

It wasn't just a peck, it was a parted lip, heated, wet kiss planted on his adams apple. Followed by a sensual lick that trailed to the side of his neck. You sucked gently and carefully, all the while planting kisses and small bites. Felix was lost in the feeling of you, sighing, whimpering as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you closer. “Fuck it.” He whispers, you heard that.

 His hand that was adorned with rings grips your jaw with soft urgency, guiding your parted lips to his. He kissed you deeply, taking your breath away as he tilted his head so his tongue could reach every inch of your mouth. You breathed in from your nose as your hands braced themselves on his chest. His lips were soft, so soft as you tasted your cherry lip gloss transferring onto his lips. 

It felt as if the blaring music faded away as the two of you made out in between dancing bodies that were too drunk to even notice you. You gasped a proper breath as Felix detached you from him by your jaw. “My place or yours?” You answered with a dazed, “Huh?” He chuckled, his other hands moving down your back to softly pat your ass as an attempt to snap you back to reality. “I said, my place or yours darling?” 

-

The door to Felix’s apartment barely closed before you grabbed Felix by the neck and pulled him in for another kiss that would’ve been a bit too raunchy for a night club. You kicked off your heels as Felix did his shoes, never thinking of breaking the kiss. He grabbed your waist and turned on his dim warm kitchen light. He guided you to lean on his dark marble counter, “How you feeling?” He asked, pulling away slightly, unbuttoning his pants slowly as he waited for your response.

You looked down between your bodies, watching as his fingers pulled down his fly, exposing his black Calvin boxers. He took two fingers to fix your gaze back to his “I asked you a question.” His eyes were almost as dark as his voice while he looked at you. “I want you.” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice. You could remember the last time you sounded so needy, being in a situation that made you this way didn’t cross your mind. If you were sober you’d be entirely embarrassed.

Felix grinned, reaching behind your back to unzip your skirt, pushing it down your legs gently. “That’s not what I asked you.” He reminded. You racked your brain, trying with all your might to think of the question that seemed so simple. Then his lips met your neck and your mind went blank. “Answer me, y/n.” He rumbled. “Can you- can you repeat the question?” You stammered. He smirked against your skin, giving your hip a squeeze. “I asked how you’re feeling, are you tired? You need a break?” You shook your head in disapproval. “No, no I’m okay. Keep going, I’m okay, please.”

Felix nodded, stepping back to look at your lace bodysuit that now acted as lingerie. He tsked, biting his lips while his finger traced the intricate detail on your hip bone. “You’re beautiful, so beautiful.” You looked up at him, flustered. “Any smart man would keep you to himself, if he knew what was good for him that is.” You shook your head in embarrassment and he smirked. “Feel what you did to me, y/n.” He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of it before guiding you into the warmth of his pants. His member hard and pulsating, warm as you hold him. 

“Felix...” He grins, “Oh I know, I’m taking too long, hm?”. He takes your hand out of his pants, pushing you deeper into the counter. His lips find yours again. He gropes at your flesh, and bites your bottom lip all before he rips a hole in the lace he adored so much; right where you need him the most. You gasp but he only takes that opportunity to kiss you deeper. His fingers slip past your folds to feel the wetness that accumulated throughout the night. He hums, gathering your moisture to rub your bundle of nerves sweetly. You moan pathetically into his mouth, you needed this more than you thought.

Felix breaks away from your lips only to pull down your top, exposing your hard nipples. He sucks and licks on them with a small nip to keep you from melting into pleasure completely. “Ohh, Lix there, there, god.” You breathed out, guiding his hand to where your clit loves it the most. Your head falls back as your other hand grips his hair. “Not yet,” he mutters against you. His fingers slide down your slit with ease, plunging into your leaking hole with a squelch. You bite your lip and close your eyes, flustered by the noises your body is capable of making due to your close friend's hand.

He pumps his fingers into you, earning a few groans as you look down. “It feels better with you.” You groan, he’s elated, his bulge twitched against your thigh. “Oh baby, I bet. I fucking bet.” He rewards you with the curl of his fingers, stimulating the most delicate part of you. You lurch forward, one hand shooting to your unoccupied mound for support as the other pulls his mouth off your now puffy bud. You press your foreheads together, “I wanna cum for you,” you breathe out, Felix parts his lips, fingers not halting. “I want you to feel how hard I can clench around you, think about my pussy milking you that way, want you to feel it Lixie.” You never spoke like this, the words flowed from your dirty lips like a river, Felix grew close to overwhelmed.

“Fuck, do you hear yourself baby? Such a fucking slut for me aren’t you?” You nodded quickly, your brows furrowing as you felt the knot you longed for tangle in your tummy. “Close lix close please, I need it.” He pecked your nose, quickly switching to stimulating your clit right where you placed him last. Your head fell back again, letting out a groan as Felix attached his swollen lips to your neck. “Fucking creaming on my fingers baby,” you let out hushed and quick yes’s. He hummed while grinning, “Cum, y/n. Give it to me.” And you did. You went silent as your mouth gapped, your chest heaving and your knees buckled as he rode you threw it. Pressing kisses to your chest and soothing the purple bruises he littered across your neck.

You fought to catch your breath as Felix ripped the hole in your lace wider, “Sorry darling, I’m not done, if that’s okay with you.” Instead of verbal confirmation, you turned around on shaky legs and leaned forward, nipples pressing against the cold marble. You propped one leg on his barstool and arched your back, exposing your sopping heat and puffy clit. 

You whined, wiggling your bottom, signaling you wanted more from him. Felix was astonished, almost prideful, he didn’t even bother pulling his pants down. He pulled his member out, hissing as his tip came in contact with your heat. Then it was like a lightbulb came on, “I’ll go get a condom.” You huffed in protest, “Raw, fuck me raw. I’m on the pill lix, I’m clean. I always made him use a condom. Raw please.” You tripped over your words, grinding on his length in an attempt to push him in yourself.  His cock jumped at your pleas, “You want me that bad?” You nodded in response, flinching as his tip brushed your clit.

Felix groaned, pushing himself in. Your mouth gaped, your eyes shutting in untter bliss; you were full to your heart’s content. “Perfect.” You moaned, pushing yourself back on his dick. He let you do your thing for a while, watching as your past orgasm made itself known on his shaft. A white ring coating him as your walls squeezed him with warmth. 

“You feel so good,” he growls. He takes your hips, meeting you in the middle as he thrusts into you. You cried out his name, your palms flat on his table when you felt him spread your ass cheeks apart, pushing into you with fast deep thrusts. All you could let out was huffs of air and strangled profanities as he hit places you thought were myths. 

“Taking me so well, y/n. So fucking good.” He muttered, placing his hand at the base of your back for more leverage. “You’re creaming me darling, you hear that?” The sloshing sound of your cunt was almost as loud as the slap Felix delivered to your ass.

His hand rubbed at your puffy clit, you had no choice but to tear up. “Oh my god.” You sobbed. “I need you to cum baby, I need you to cum so I can hm? Be nice to your Lixie.” You bit your lip, the intensity of your nearing climax being felt in the tip of your fingers as your thighs shook. “Fuck!” You groaned loudly, hearing the sound of your pussy gushing and juice’s hitting the floor was the least of your worries as you saw stars. You swore at that moment you reached nirvana. 

Your body had a mind of its own as you pulled your cunt off his member and got down on your knees before him. “Record me, record how you cum on me.” You muttered while looking up at your closest friend. Felix had to act quick, the sight of your mascara running and tear stained cheeks, your eyes low and tongue out waiting to take whatever he would give was now embedded in his mind as a core memory. 

He reached for his phone in his back pocket, swiping to his camera and hitting record with flash as he stroked himself quickly. You looked filthy, your pussy was dripping, your body was glistening and your hair was messy. You didn’t seem to care as your manicured nails that your sorry excuse of a boyfriend pity paid for, excitedly gripped Felix’s cargo clad thighs in anticipation.

“Shit shit.” He came, on your tits, on your nose and of course on your tongue. He groaned as you suckled on his twitching tip, kissing and licking. Felix looked at you through his camera, his free hand caressing your face, wiping your tears and hair away. Thumb lingered down to your soft swollen lips, pushing passed as you sucked gently. You smiled up at him just as he stopped recording. 

“Thank you Lixie.” You whispered, fucked out and hazy. He smiled sweetly at you, “No baby, thank you.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Bath time y/n. Come on.” He pulled you up gently.

-

Your hands drew circles on his chest as he stroked your naked back.

“Y/n?” You hummed in response, breathing in his body wash.

“What should I do with that video?” You looked up at Felix, with a small smile. “Send it to him and brag for the both of us, only if you want to.” You laid back down sighing in content. Felix played with your hair and chuckled. He knew you were groggy and not confident in your words. He settled for a simple screenshot, one where anyone could barely tell it was you. His ring clad thumb in your mouth as you sucked. 

The picture is attached with a short but sweet message.

“Sorry bro.”

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 5 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Five: Witness The Wreckage Of My Life

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack,

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: Hi there! Tbh I thought no one would read this fic lol that’s why it’s been in the backburner for monthssssss. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Hurt by Sleeping At Last

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MAIDENVAULT, GUEST CHAMBERS 

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — EARLY MORNING

The faint chirping of birds drifted into your consciousness before you felt it—fingertips brushing gently along your arm, tracing the curve of your skin with a soft, languid motion. A slow inhale filled your lungs as your eyes fluttered open, the room around you coming into focus. The unfamiliar surroundings of Oberyn Martell’s chambers. 

Your breath hitched, and your body stiffened as realization dawned on you. Oberyn’s body was warm and close beside you, his arm draped loosely over your waist. Panic seized your chest, thoughts racing faster than you could process them. You quickly glanced down. Your nightgown was still on, but that didn’t stop the rush of anxiety building in your throat.

Did we…? Oh gods, what did I do?

Oberyn stirred beside you, his dark eyes opening lazily as a slow grin spread across his lips. He didn’t move away, though his hand continued its lazy tracing of your skin. “You treat it as if sleeping with me would be the worst thing in the world,” he chuckled, his voice deep and teasing. “Many people line up for the privilege of getting into bed with me.”

You rolled your eyes, your heart pounding still. “Oberyn—” you started, your voice strained with embarrassment, but then you paused, the tension rising again as you remembered who you were. A servant. And here you were, lying in the bed of a prince.

Your stomach twisted with guilt as you quickly tried to sit up, but Oberyn’s arm tightened around your waist, preventing your escape. “I… I shouldn’t be here,” you stammered, fumbling with the covers as you tried to get out of bed. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Stop,” Oberyn said, his voice gentle but firm, his hold on you unwavering. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart raced faster, your mind protesting even as your body relaxed against his touch. “I shouldn’t be calling you by your name,” you said, the propriety drilled into you for years clawing its way to the surface.

Oberyn chuckled again, his grip remaining strong as he turned you slightly so you could meet his gaze. “We are far past proper,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a playful smile. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

You stared at him, your cheeks burning with the mix of emotions swirling inside you. The absurdity of the situation, the intimacy, the way he seemed so unbothered while you could hardly keep your composure.

And then it happened—a laugh bubbled up from your chest, unbidden and uncontrollable. The sound escaped your lips before you could stop it, surprising even yourself. It was a laugh that hadn’t surfaced in years, a genuine, melodic sound that filled the space between you and Oberyn like music.

He stilled, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at you, captivated. There was something in his gaze you hadn’t seen before—something soft, something tender. He let out a low hum, as if savoring the moment. “You should laugh more often,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in years.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks again, this time not from embarrassment, but from the way his words lingered in the air. Oberyn’s smile softened, and his hand moved up to gently cup your cheek. “I’d kill armies of a thousand men to hear that laugh again.”

His words were spoken with such conviction that for a moment, you almost believed he would. The truth of his promise hung in the air, pulling at something deep inside you. But you quickly smothered that feeling, pushing it down before it could surface.

“I don’t think Ellaria would be so pleased to hear such a statement from you, your grace,” you said, forcing a teasing tone into your voice, hoping to deflect some of the tension. 

A smirk tugged at Oberyn’s lips as he pinched your side playfully, making you squirm under his touch. “You’re using titles again,” he said, his aquiline nose brushing against yours, a soft, teasing gesture that made your breath hitch. “We’ve already discussed this—no ‘grace,’ no ‘proper.’” His eyes gleamed mischievously. “And Ellaria? She knows. She’s out enjoying herself at the brothels right now, likely tangled with a lover of her own. We have an understanding.”

His words were casual, delivered with a smile, but they landed like a stone in your chest. Your heart sank, a dull ache forming where only moments before there had been warmth. Of course, Ellaria knew. Of course, they both had other lovers. That’s how it always was with people like him, free and untethered. You were just another fleeting moment.

You swallowed the sudden rush of feelings and buried them deep, plastering on a faint smile to hide the sting. “Of course,” you said, your voice steady despite the tightness in your throat. “You both live quite... freely.”

Oberyn’s eyes flickered, his smile softening as if he sensed the shift in you. His hand moved from your waist to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Don’t misunderstand,” he said quietly. “I take many lovers, yes. But none like you.”

Oberyn’s words lingered in the air, pulling at you with a subtle, intoxicating pressure. The way he so effortlessly drew you into his orbit—without even a kiss exchanged between you—made it hard to remember where you stood. His lips grazed your forehead again, soft and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. For just a moment, you let yourself forget the distance between your lives, the dangers lurking in every corner of King’s Landing.

But you didn’t dwell on the meaning of his words, or the fact that he had practically claimed you as his without any physical bond. It felt dangerous, even foolish, to hold on to such fleeting warmth in a world that offered little safety.

Oberyn pulled away, giving you a long, lingering squeeze before he stood, his movements unhurried as he dressed in the dim morning light. His tunic draped over his broad shoulders, his belt fastened with the casual elegance only someone like him could manage. You sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist as you watched him, torn between the urge to stay hidden in the folds of the night and the reality of the day ahead.

"I have a meeting with the Small Council," Oberyn said, fastening his leather bracers with nimble fingers. His tone was light, almost conversational, but there was something in his eyes that made you feel as though he was gauging your every response. "I suppose you'll be coming too, to be nearby? Or do you want me to tell you what I've learned later?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, teasingly. “And how will you find me later to tell me such important news?”

He paused in the middle of tying his belt, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I have my ways.” He rounded the bed, leaning down as his lips pressed against your forehead once more, this time with a lingering softness that made your heart stutter. "Remember the day of Joffrey’s wedding?" he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "I found you setting up by the Sept, looking flustered as ever." 

Heat rushed to your cheeks at the memory, the sight of him approaching you on that fateful day etched in your mind. You bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide, your face betraying you anyway.

Oberyn chuckled as he straightened, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "You were adorable then. You still are," he said, stepping back toward the door. "I’ve asked for breakfast to be left by the door. Help yourself to whatever you like. You must have been tired; you didn’t even notice when I brought it in while you were still sleeping."

Your heart gave a small flutter as he moved to the door, giving you one last look before pulling it open. “Be sure to eat,” he added, his voice softer now, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.

And just like that, the room felt empty again, save for the fading scent of him and the quiet remnants of your own thoughts, still spinning from the morning's encounter. 

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — AFTERNOON

The day had taken on a surreal quality since you’d left Oberyn’s chambers. The fact that nothing happened, and yet everything had changed, weighed on you. You had snuck out, slipping back into your long-sleeved servant gown as though it could shield you from the memory of the man whose side you now found yourself on. A part of you felt guilty, as though you’d crossed a line, even though no line had truly been crossed.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you busied yourself with the day’s tasks, the monotonous routine serving as a distraction. Cleaning, fetching, ensuring every corner of the Red Keep was prepared for the endless parade of courtiers and nobles. Your mind was on everything but the day’s duties. It was hard to ignore the shift within you—the knowledge that Oberyn was on your side. That he believed in your quest for justice, or perhaps vengeance. It was a dangerous alliance, but one that filled you with a strange sense of hope.

The sun had begun its slow descent when you found yourself alone in a secluded hallway, carrying a basket of linens. You were just about to return to your duties when you heard a soft clink, followed by another. Glancing toward the window, you spotted Oberyn, standing in the courtyard below, tossing pebbles at the window with a mischievous grin. His eyes sparkled with amusement when your gaze met his.

For a heartbeat, panic seized you—what if someone saw? But the corridor was deserted, and no guards or servants were in sight. Oberyn motioned for you to join him, his grin widening as you hesitated.

Setting down the basket, you quickly made your way outside to the gardens where he waited. His presence seemed to fill the space, larger than life as always. The scent of freshly bloomed flowers hung in the air, and the sound of the fountains provided a soothing backdrop to the moment.

“I didn’t expect you to be so bold,” you said, handing him a small loaf of bread and some fruit you’d tucked away earlier.

Oberyn accepted the food with a wink. “I promised I’d find you later, didn’t I?” He tore off a piece of bread and took a bite. “Besides, I’d rather be here with you than dealing with the Small Council any longer.”

Your curiosity piqued, you glanced at him as you both strolled through the gardens. “What happened in the meeting?”

He took a deep breath, stretching his arms before speaking. “A lot of posturing and little else. They discussed the trial, of course, but also news from the east. Daenerys Targaryen is in Meereen now, ruling as queen. Tywin thinks the dragons won’t be a problem, but he’s too proud to see the threat for what it is.”

“Dragons?” you asked, handing him a piece of fruit. “Do you really think they could pose a threat to the throne?”

Oberyn gave a half-shrug, though his eyes were serious. “Dragons haven’t won a war in centuries, but Daenerys has an army—Unsullied, sellswords, and advisors who are no fools. Tywin’s dismissing her, but the girl is no simpleton.”

His casual mention of dragons and armies made your heart race. The idea of such power was overwhelming, but Oberyn seemed unfazed by it. He continued recounting the meeting, filling in every detail as though it were simply gossip from a tavern, not the strategic planning of the most powerful people in Westeros.

"They even discussed the Hound," he added, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Apparently, he's out there somewhere, swearing at the crown and slaughtering men. Tywin's offering a hundred silver stags for his head now."

You couldn’t help but smile at Oberyn’s nonchalance. “And what about you? Did you offer your expert opinion?”

He grinned, recalling the way he had brought up the Unsullied with the council. “I told them how impressive the Unsullied are in battle. Less so in the bedroom, though.”

Your eyes widened in shock, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. “You didn’t…”

“Oh, I did,” he replied, his smile growing wider. "Tywin wasn’t amused. But Varys—he found it interesting. We had a chat afterward. He’s a strange one, isn’t he?"

“Varys? I wouldn’t know,” you said with a shrug. “He doesn’t speak to people like me.”

Oberyn’s gaze softened. “You’d be surprised. He listens more than you think. Just like I do.”

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, you sat down on a stone bench, enjoying the quiet moment with him. Oberyn leaned against a tree, looking at you with that same intensity you had grown used to.

"Thank you for the food," he said, his voice lower now, almost intimate. "I thought about bringing something for you, but I didn’t know what you’d like."

You smiled, the tension of the day melting away in his presence. “I’m not picky.”

His expression turned playful again as he tossed the last piece of bread into his mouth. "Good. Because I intend to share more meals with you. That is, if you don’t mind.”

The warmth in his eyes was undeniable, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel—contentment. For just this moment, here with Oberyn, you felt at peace.

“You know those moments? Those moments when you’re allowed to like someone? If those moments mean that you’re alive, then how many days do you think I have really lived?” Your voice was soft, nearly swallowed by the rustling of leaves in the nearby garden. Yet, Oberyn heard every word, his gaze unwavering.

He didn’t respond immediately, his expression shifting to something unreadable, a mix of intrigue and concern. His silence invited you to continue, and so you did, despite the heaviness settling in your chest.

You knew how this would end. It was already written in the stars, in the fates that controlled your path. Oberyn would return to Dorne, back to Ellaria, to his daughters, to his life—a life you could never be part of. And you would stay behind, here in King's Landing, with only the memory of this fleeting peace. 

It was bittersweet, knowing you could never truly have him. Yet, the happiness you felt now was real. So real, it almost hurt.

You glance down, watching as the breeze played with the fabric of your dress, the cool air brushing your skin. You’d known from the start that this was temporary. That whatever spark had ignited between you would burn out as quickly as it had begun. And when that time came, you would let it.

Because you would be happy. Finally. You wish to be happy enough that you could die. You want to be happy just by that much.

All of this wouldn’t last, just as this peace would slip through your fingers like sand. The realization settled within you, hollow and aching, but you knew it was the truth. 

Oberyn, unaware of your internal turmoil, reached out, his thumb grazing your jaw, bringing your attention back to him. His touch was warm, grounding you in the present. You looked up at him, the faintest smile playing on your lips, and for once, you let yourself exist in the moment—here, in his embrace, even though you knew it wouldn't last forever.

“You are living now,” he finally murmured, his voice a low, steady hum. “And sometimes, that is enough.”

KING'S LANDING, THE IRON THRONE ROOM – DAY

The trial felt like the closing of a noose, tightening with each step Tyrion Lannister took as he entered the room. For a moment, your breath caught. The Iron Throne room was oppressive today, the tension palpable, thick in the air like the pressure of a storm ready to break. You stood to the side, far enough from the public but close enough to feel the malice that filled the room. 

Tyrion’s face was a mask of calm, though you knew it was a facade. He had always been on trial—his whole life judged for what he couldn’t change. His height, his sharp tongue, his wit that often cut too deeply. The crowd barely concealed their disdain for him, whispers rippling through the chamber like the hiss of a snake.

A door creaked open, and Jaime Lannister entered with Tyrion, the Kingslayer leading his brother to what felt like his doom. Tyrion walked with slow, deliberate steps down the aisle, his chains clinking softly against the stone. 

“Kingslayer!” someone jeered from the crowd, and your heart clenched. How easy it was for them to shout from the shadows. Tyrion’s every move was watched, every breath a crime in their eyes. A part of you pitied him—not for the crimes they claimed he committed, but for the life he had been forced to endure. 

As Tyrion was led to the accused dais, his wrists freed, you cast a glance toward the Iron Throne. Tommen Baratheon sat there, looking far too small for the burden that had been thrust upon him. His grandfather, Tywin Lannister, loomed at his side, a figure of calculated power. To the right of the throne stood Oberyn Martell and Mace Tyrell, both set to judge this farce of a trial.

Tommen rose from his seat, signaling for all to stand. The room echoed with the shuffle of robes and armor as everyone complied, including Margaery, Loras, and Cersei, their faces masks of feigned grace.

"I, Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of my Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, do hereby recuse myself from this trial." His voice wavered, though he tried to sound regal. "Tywin of the House Lannister, Hand of the King, Protector of the Realm, will sit as judge in my stead. And with him Prince Oberyn of the House Martell and Lord Mace of the House Tyrell. And if found guilty... may the gods punish the accused."

Tommen quickly descended from the dais, walking past both Tyrion and Jaime without a second glance. The crowd stirred, uneasy, as Oberyn and Mace Tyrell took their places beside Tywin. Your eyes lingered on Oberyn for a moment—his expression unreadable, though you knew him better. He would play the game today, but his thoughts, you suspected, were far from the politics at hand.

Tyrion stood alone, a figure dwarfed by the grandeur of the hall, but his defiance remained intact. You couldn’t help but admire it, though it would cost him dearly. He looked small, but he commanded the room with nothing more than his presence.

Tywin’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Tyrion of the House Lannister, you stand accused by the Queen Regent of regicide. Did you kill King Joffrey?”

Tyrion’s reply was immediate, almost bored. “No.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed, but he remained calm. “Did your wife, the Lady Sansa?”

“Not that I know of,” Tyrion answered, his gaze unwavering.

“How would you say he died, then?” Tywin pressed, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Tyrion's lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Choked on his pigeon pie.”

A murmur of disbelief and irritation rippled through the room. Tyrion continued, unbothered by the multiple of the stares boring into him. "So you would blame the bakers?" Tywin's voice had a dangerous edge now, but Tyrion remained unfazed.

“Or the pigeons,” Tyrion added with a shrug. “Just leave me out of it.”

Tywin’s gaze turned to ice, his patience clearly wearing thin. “The crown may call its first witness.”

As the room shifted in anticipation, your gaze drifted to Oberyn once more. His expression remained unchanged, but you knew him well enough to sense the amusement lurking behind his eyes. This trial was nothing more than a performance, a game of thrones played on the backs of the innocent and guilty alike.

And you, standing in the shadows, couldn’t help but feel as though you too were being judged—not for crimes you committed, but for your mere existence in this cruel and twisted world.

The load of the accusations hung heavily in the air as Ser Meryn Trant took the stand, his voice dripping with self-righteousness as he recounted his version of events. You stood in the shadows, just beyond the throng of onlookers, your gaze flicking between Tyrion, ever defiant, and the cold, unyielding faces of the judges.

“Meryn Trant,” Oberyn had once called him, “a dog who serves cruelty.” Today was no different. His testimony was venomous, laden with exaggerations designed to paint Tyrion as a monster.

“Once we’d got King Joffrey safely away from the mob, the Imp rounded on him,” Trant declared, his voice rising for dramatic effect. “He slapped the king across the face and called him a vicious idiot and a fool. It wasn’t the first time the Imp threatened Joffrey. Right here in this throne room, he marched up those steps and called our king a halfwit. Compared His Grace to the Mad King and suggested he’d meet the same fate. And when I spoke in the king’s defense, he threatened to have me killed.”

You watched Tyrion’s eyes narrow, the tension building in the lines of his face. His hands twitched slightly, barely restrained as the lies continued to spill from Trant’s mouth. Then, Tyrion spoke, his voice sharp and cutting through the silence like a blade.

“Oh, why don’t you tell them what Joffrey was doing?” Tyrion's voice echoed through the hall, daring anyone to challenge him.

Tywin’s voice, cold as ice, immediately followed. “Silence.”

But Tyrion would not be silenced. His voice rose again, and this time, it was filled with fury, with the truth that no one else dared to speak aloud. “Pointing a loaded crossbow at Sansa Stark while you tore at her clothes and beat her.”

The room gasped collectively, whispers rippling through the crowd like wildfire. You could see the faces of the nobles twisting with confusion, some in disbelief, others in silent acknowledgment. The truth was an ugly thing, one they preferred to ignore.

Tywin’s command rang out, harsher now. “Silence! You will not speak unless called upon. You’re dismissed, Ser Meryn.”

As Trant exited, he shot Tyrion a venomous look, but you knew his words had left an impression. The seeds of doubt were planted, even if only a few dared to show it. 

The oppressive atmosphere in the throne room had only thickened when Grand Maester Pycelle took the stand, his droning voice listing off a litany of poisons that seemed to stretch on endlessly. You could barely suppress your irritation, the corners of your lips twitching in response. Across the room, Oberyn shared your sentiment, leaning back in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he interrupted the Grand Maester.

“I think you’ve made your point, Grand Maester,” Oberyn drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You have a lot of poison in your store.”

You couldn’t help but smirk too, admiring Oberyn's ability to undercut the tension with just a few words. His eyes flickered toward you, the smallest acknowledgment of your shared amusement.

“Had, Prince Oberyn,” Pycelle corrected, his tone defensive. “My stores were plundered.”

Tywin's attention sharpened, his eyes narrowing in on Pycelle like a predator locking onto its prey. “By whom?”

“By the accused, Tyrion Lannister, after he had me wrongfully imprisoned,” Pycelle declared, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd.

The room stirred again, unease rippling through the masses. Tyrion stood there, as composed as he could be under the circumstances, but you could see the frustration seeping into the lines of his face.

“Grand Maester,” Tywin’s voice commanded silence once more, “you examined King Joffrey’s corpse. Was it without question poison that killed him?”

Pycelle gave a solemn nod, as if delivering a final verdict. “Without question.”

The crowd reacted, a low murmur spreading like wildfire. Pycelle reached into his robes and produced a necklace, holding it up for all to see. The glint of the delicate chain caught your eye, and your heart dropped. It was Sansa’s necklace—the one she had worn the day of the wedding.

“This was found on the body of Dontos Hollard, the king’s fool,” Pycelle continued, his voice slow and deliberate. “He was last seen spiriting Sansa Stark, the wife of the accused, away from the feast. She wore this necklace the day of the wedding. Residue of a most rare and terrible poison was found inside.”

Tywin’s eyes darkened. “Was this one of the poisons stolen from your store?”

“It was,” Pycelle confirmed with a nod. “The Strangler. A poison few in the Seven Kingdoms possess. And used to strike down the most noble child the gods ever put on this good earth.”

The murmurs intensified, a wave of collective horror and fascination washing over the crowd. You could feel the tide turning, the accusations tightening like a noose around Tyrion’s neck. And yet, in that moment, as Pycelle’s words rang through the hall, you couldn’t help but wonder who in that room truly believed the lies being spun—and who was merely playing their part.

You stood to the side, concealed in the shadows, watching the spectacle unfold as Cersei Lannister took the stand. Her voice was calm, laced with venom, as she recounted her brother’s supposed threats.

"I will hurt you for this," Cersei declared, her voice cutting through the hushed murmurs of the crowd. "A day will come when you think you are safe and happy, and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth. And you will know the debt is paid."

Her words echoed in the vast hall, casting a chill over the proceedings. You couldn’t help but shudder at the coldness of her tone, the way she wielded those words like a weapon—sharpened and aimed directly at Tyrion.

Mace Tyrell, seated beside Tywin and Oberyn, leaned forward, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Your own brother said this to you?”

Cersei nodded, her face a mask of bitterness. “Shortly before the Battle of Blackwater Bay. I confronted him about his plans to put Joffrey on the front lines. As it turned out, when the attack came, Joff insisted on remaining at the battlements. He believed his presence would inspire the troops.”

Oberyn’s sharp gaze never left Cersei as he interjected, “Tyrion said, ‘And you will know the debt is paid.’ What debt?”

Cersei’s eyes flickered briefly, a flash of something darker beneath her calm demeanor. “I discovered he'd been keeping whores in the Tower of the Hand. I asked him to confine his salacious acts to the brothel, where such behavior belongs. He wasn’t pleased.”

From your vantage point, you saw Tyrion shake his head ever so slightly, a bitter smile curling his lips. It was a performance, all of it—a calculated attempt to paint him as the villain in her twisted tale. The truth, as always, was far more complicated.

Tywin Lannister, ever the stern patriarch, inclined his head. “Thank you, Your Grace, for the courage of your testimony.”

As Cersei stepped down from the stand, you could feel the tension ripple through the room. Her gaze lingered on Jaime for a fraction of a second, their unspoken connection palpable even amidst the disarray of the trial. You watched as their eyes locked, a silent exchange passing between them before she returned to her seat.

Varys, the ever-watchful spider, took the stand next. His presence always unnerved you—his calculating eyes saw too much, knew too much, and yet revealed nothing.

Mace Tyrell spoke first, leaning forward with an air of forced politeness. “Do you remember the precise nature of this threat?”

Varys’ expression remained neutral, his voice soft but clear. “I’m afraid I do, my lord. He said, ‘Perhaps you should speak more softly to me, then. Monsters are dangerous, and just now, kings are dying like flies.’”

A faint murmur spread through the crowd, the tonnage of Tyrion’s words settling in. The tension was palpable. You felt it in your bones, in the way the air seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment.

“And he said this to you at a meeting of the small council?” Mace pressed, as if drawing out the damning words would somehow ease his conscience.

“Yes,” Varys confirmed with a nod. “After we received word of Robb Stark’s death. He didn’t seem gladdened by the news. Perhaps his marriage to Sansa Stark had made him more sympathetic to the northern cause.”

You stood still, listening as the crowd shifted, their whispers swirling around you. Every accusation, every witness testimony felt like another nail in Tyrion’s coffin. The trial was nothing more than a spectacle, a farce to mask the truth, and everyone in the room knew it. But no one would dare say it aloud.

Tywin’s voice rang out once more, commanding the attention of the hall. “You’re excused, Lord Varys.”

Varys, ever the obedient servant, bowed his head and exited the stand with practiced grace. Tyrion’s eyes followed him, his expression a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.

“Father,” Tyrion spoke suddenly, his voice laced with bitterness. “May I ask the witness one question?”

Tywin regarded him coldly. “One.”

Tyrion turned to face Varys, his voice steady but full of accusation. “You once said that without me, this city would have faced certain defeat. You said the histories would never mention me, but you would not forget. Have you forgotten, Lord Varys?”

Varys paused, his gaze unwavering as he responded. “Sadly, my lord, I never forget a thing.”

Tyrion’s face fell, and you could see the force of those words settle on his shoulders. Varys bowed once more and exited the room, his footsteps soft but echoing in the heavy silence that followed.

Tywin, Oberyn, and Mace Tyrell stood, their judgment hanging in the air like a guillotine about to fall. Tywin's voice was cold and final. “We will adjourn for now. Toll the bells in an hour’s time.”

“Clear the court!” the guard called, and the crowd began to disperse, a mass of nobility and onlookers eager to gossip about the day’s events.

You remained where you stood, off to the side, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the scene unfold. The tension in the room had affected you more than you realized. Unconsciously, your fingers had drifted to your arms, scratching at the scars you had long tried to forget. Only when you felt the dampness of blood seeping through the sleeve of your gown did you stop, the pain a reminder of just how fragile control could be.

Across the room, Jaime and Cersei exchanged another glance, their eyes filled with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. The Lannisters had built their empire on secrets and lies, and it seemed their legacy was unraveling before your eyes.

As the last of the crowd filed out, you looked toward Tyrion. He sat there, dejected and weary, his once sharp gaze dull with the knowledge of how this trial would end. For all his wit and cunning, he was still a pawn in his father’s scheme—a scheme that only seemed to grow bloodier with each passing day.

And you, too, were trapped in this  labyrinth of power and betrayal. The scars on your arms ached, a constant reminder of the past, but also of the future that awaited you in this city of ashes.

Suddenly, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you out of your daze and through a concealed passage near the edge of the hall. You barely registered the movement until you found yourself in a dim, hidden alcove, the noise of the trial muffled behind the thick stone walls.

Oberyn.

His presence alone was enough to make your heart race, but now, standing this close, away from prying eyes, his gaze burned with intensity. He looked down at you, his lips curving into that familiar smirk, though there was a seriousness in his eyes.

“Spend the afternoon with me,” he murmured, his voice deep, pulling at the knot of tension in your chest. You shook your head, flustered.

“Oberyn, people will see… they’ll talk.”

“Let them,” he said, his tone unconcerned as if the entire court could collapse and he would stand unbothered. “What do I care for their whispers? I care only for you, here and now.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, his words unsettling something within you. “If this is all really that important to you, then…” Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes, the boldness of your next words surprising even you. “Then let’s try being romantic.”

His expression shifted, softening as a genuine smile spread across his face. He tugged you deeper into the room, where a small table had been set, food and wine waiting as if he had planned it all along. You sat down, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for a cup of water, needing something to calm the storm of emotions that had begun to churn inside you.

Oberyn, ever perceptive, reached across the table, his fingers brushing over the fabric of your sleeve. You hadn’t even noticed, but his sharp eyes caught the faint stain of blood. His brow furrowed in concern.

“What is this?” he asked softly, lifting your arm gently.

“It’s nothing,” you replied quickly, trying to pull away, but his grip remained firm, his thumb stroking the fabric as if he could soothe away the pain beneath it. “I didn’t even notice—just an old wound.”

His gaze darkened, a rare flicker of something dangerous crossing his features. “Old or new, it matters. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

You laughed nervously, trying to shake off his concern. “I’ve had worse, trust me.”

But Oberyn wasn’t convinced. He leaned closer, his voice low and filled with something deeper than just care. “You’ve bled for this city, for people who don’t deserve you. I won’t let it happen again.”

You swallowed hard, the intensity of his words lingering in the air between you. This was more than just a fleeting moment of tenderness; it was a promise. But promises in King’s Landing were as fragile as the alliances that held the court together. And yet, here, in this quiet room, with Oberyn’s eyes locked on yours, you dared to believe in it—just for a moment.

The silence between you and Oberyn stretched, heavy and thick, as you paced the narrow room. You couldn’t look at him, not when the consequence of your question pressed so deeply into your chest. The words tumbled out, quiet at first but gaining strength with each step you took.

“When you first saw me—before you ever noticed my scars—you didn’t even flinch. You didn’t question what I’ve done, what I’ve had to endure.” You paused, your back to him, fingers tracing the rough stone of the wall. “Why? Why do you trust me so blindly? Why would you do anything for me? What makes you so sure?”

The air felt charged, thick with unspoken truths. You waited, breath caught in your throat, as Oberyn’s gaze bore into you from across the room.

“I’ve told you before,” he began, his voice deep and smooth, like the rich wine of Dorne. “What I feel for you is far more than blind trust. I lived through a season of darkness, of violence. And then I saw you.” His words were measured, each syllable drawn out as if he wanted you to feel them in your bones. “I realized—this woman, you—you are my salvation.”

The words struck you harder than you anticipated, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to face him, meeting his eyes, searching for the flicker of madness or arrogance you had grown used to in the courts of King’s Landing. But instead, you saw only the stark truth.

“At some point,” he continued, rising to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, “one must choose the kind of person they wish to become. I’ve chosen to be your partner in crime. To stand at your side, no matter what may come. It suits me well.”

You took a step toward him, disbelief twisting in your chest. “And what of the others? The whispers… people say you’re mad.”

A smirk danced across his lips as he moved closer, the firelight casting shadows across his sharp features. “Let them say what they will,” he said, his voice rich with the confidence that had always surrounded him like armor. “I plan to live as I choose—even if that means living like a madman.”

He stopped just before you, his hand reaching for yours, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Let me be mad, so long as it is with you.”

Your breath faltered, caught in the pull of Oberyn’s unwavering gaze. His eyes, dark as the shadows that danced around you, held a promise—one made without words, sealed in the silence between you. Here, in this hidden alcove of King’s Landing, where secrets whispered through every crack in the stone, Oberyn’s reckless devotion felt like the only anchor in a world built on lies and betrayal. The madness that clung to him, the very thing whispered about in the halls of the Red Keep, was the only thing that felt real.

Then, the bell tolled.

The low, resounding chime cut through the stillness, a reminder of the trial that awaited, of the deadly games unfolding beyond this hidden moment. The Iron Throne beckoned. 

“We should go,” you whispered, the significance of duty settling back onto your shoulders like a familiar cloak. Yet even as the words left your lips, part of you wanted to remain in this stolen fragment of time, where nothing but the two of you existed.

Oberyn’s hand lingered at your wrist a moment longer, his thumb brushing against your skin, as if reluctant to let you slip away. “Then let us go,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, “but remember, this madness is ours.”

You nodded, heart heavy with the knowledge of what awaited you both beyond the walls of this room. Together, you stepped out of the shadows and into the labyrinth of power, where every step felt like a descent into the unknown. As you made your way back to the Iron Throne room, the cold walls of the Red Keep felt more oppressive, the air thick with anticipation and unseen eyes.

The crowd had already begun to file back in, and you could feel the tension rise with every step closer to the throne. Oberyn’s presence beside you was like a shield, his gaze steady, even as the treacherous court awaited the next act in this cruel play.

With a deep breath, you entered the chamber, the Iron Throne looming ahead, cold and sharp like the future that awaited. You could still feel the heaviness of Oberyn's promise, unspoken yet burning in your chest, as you took your place beside him once more.

The Iron Throne room was heavy with the scent of judgment, the air thick with the oppressive weight of expectation as you stood off to the side, watching the proceedings with a mix of dread and fascination. The crowd stirred as Tywin, Oberyn, and Mace Tyrell entered, their mere presence enough to command the attention of all in attendance. You, too, were drawn into their orbit, though your vantage point remained deliberately shadowed, a place where you could observe without being seen.

Your eyes flickered toward Jaime and Tyrion as they shared a brief, wordless exchange before Tyrion nodded. The crowd, tense and whispering, settled as Jaime took his position to the side, ever the loyal guard even now. Tywin’s voice cut through the stillness.

“The crown may call its next witness.”

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, and the moment Tyrion turned, his face drained of all composure. Shae. She stepped into view, her posture small, head bowed as if already defeated, but her presence sent a ripple of shock through the room.

Tywin’s voice rang out again, cold and unyielding. “State your name.”

“Shae,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tywin’s question came sharp and unforgiving, “Do you swear by all the gods that your testimony will be true and honest?”

“I swear it.”

You stood still, feeling the tension rise within you as much as it did in Tyrion. Shae, once his secret, now stood against him. What did Tywin have over her? Why betray him now, in front of so many?

“Do you know this man?” Tywin asked, motioning toward Tyrion.

Shae’s eyes flicked to Tyrion, but they were empty, drained of any warmth you might’ve once seen. “Yes. Tyrion Lannister.”

“And how do you know him?”

“I was handmaiden to his wife, Lady Sansa,” she replied. The formality of her words felt rehearsed, distant.

The next question felt like a blade being sharpened, preparing for the killing blow. “This man stands accused of murdering King Joffrey. What do you know of this?”

“I know that he's guilty,” Shae said, her voice louder now, cutting through the hall. The crowd gasped, and you felt your heart lurch.

“They planned it together—he and Sansa,” she continued, and the room erupted with murmurs of disbelief.

Tywin’s booming command of “Silence!” quelled the noise, but inside, you felt the storm brewing. Tyrion’s face was a mask of disbelief, shock twisting his features. You could barely hold your breath, the lies Shae spun as deadly as poison.

“She wanted revenge for her family, and Tyrion was happy to help. He hated Joffrey, the Queen, and even you, my lord.” Her voice dripped with venom, each word a calculated dagger.

You clenched your fists, anger rising within you. You knew these words were false, spun from fear or manipulation. Shae’s lies poisoned the truth, but they were crafted to strike where it would hurt Tyrion the most.

Oberyn, standing near Tywin, raised a brow and asked, his voice cutting through the tension, “How could you possibly know all of this? Why would he reveal such plans to his wife's maid?”

Shae’s voice hardened as she responded, “I wasn't just her maid. I was his whore.”

The murmurs rose again. You could hear the gasps from those seated nearby. The shame, the betrayal, it was all laid bare. Your heart sank with the weight of it, feeling as though the very air around you thickened with judgment. Oberyn, never one to let a moment of discomfort pass without seizing it, looked at Shae but then glanced subtly toward you, a glimmer of mischief in his eye. His lips curled into a small smirk as he asked, “And did you?” His voice was laced with innuendo. “Did you fuck him like it was his last night in this world?”

Your eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the brazenness of his words. Even now, in the midst of this trial, Oberyn’s audacity remained unshaken. He winked at you, and you felt a flicker of surprise, but also something else—a recognition that even in confusion, Oberyn’s attention was always sharp, always focused. You shook your head slightly, hiding the faintest hint of amusement at his lack of propriety.

Shae’s reply came in a voice void of emotion, “I did everything he wanted.”

The crowd erupted once more, laughing at the salacious details. You, however, felt no humor. This wasn’t the truth; it was a distortion meant to strip Tyrion of his dignity, to paint him as something monstrous when you knew better. As Shae’s words continued, painting Tyrion as possessive and cruel, you couldn’t help but feel disgust twist within you. This city, this court—it thrived on the downfall of others.

When Tyrion finally spoke, his voice was filled with a raw, desperate kind of fury. “Shae, please don’t.”

But she continued, relentless, her words carving into him, stripping him of what little humanity he had left to claim in the eyes of those around him. Every word she uttered was another stone thrown, and Tyrion, for all his wit, could do nothing but watch.

As the crowd clamored, you stood, feeling your own heart beating in time with the tension in the room. Tyrion’s next words came like a battle cry, an admission of truth wrapped in bitterness.

“Father, I wish to confess. I wish... to confess.”

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation. The entire room held its breath as Tywin’s voice echoed in response, “You wish to confess?”

Tyrion, no longer defeated but filled with a fire you hadn’t seen in him before, turned toward the crowd, his voice rising. “I saved you. I saved this city and all your worthless lives. I should have let Stannis kill you all!”

The shock rippled through the room, but you could see the righteousness in his anger. His truth, raw and ugly, spilled out for all to hear, and you felt every word cut through the falsity of the trial.

When Tywin asked if he had anything to say in his defense, Tyrion’s response sent a chill through you. “I did not do it. I did not kill Joffrey, but I wish that I had.”

You smirked at the irony of it all, your eyes flicking to Tywin. The calm, calculated facade he wore was slipping, even if only slightly. The cracks in his control were beginning to show. Tyrion’s words, his defiance, had shifted the balance, if only for a moment. You looked at the man who had ordered the death of Princess Elia Martell and thought, You stand on ruins now, Tywin. The walls you’ve built will crumble, and when they do, you will stand alone in the dark.

As Tyrion demanded, “ I will not give my life for Joffrey's murder. And I know I'll get no justice here. So I will let the gods decide my fate. I demand a trial by combat!” The room exploded in chaos, but you stood there, breathless, knowing that this was only the beginning. Tywin’s grip on power was faltering, and you couldn’t help but wonder which one of you would ignite the final spark that brought his empire crashing down.

TAGLIST:

@greenwitchfromthewoods @shessweetsour @christinamadsen

[mskinkyafro]

I’ve caught up in Elite Tag s3 and tbh idk if they needed to do a 3rd one. This season time mc is whiny and annoying but at the same time a dumbass. Like the themes I thought they were going for were either touched surface level or not at all.

The entire movie plot was so weird. Not to say Lennox wasn’t an assjols but Mc insistence on smaller things like clothing or trips that didn’t happen, had me scratching my head. Like bitch it’s a movie inspired by true events not a biopic. And even then biopic take creative liberty.

Also Ricky comment was a low blow but I understood what he meant. The way Mc was written this season and just the inner dialogue regarding decisions the friends made, were a bit like, “why am I not the focus or considered”’ when it’s literally their own life. Like they deserve to have time or moments that aren’t constantly revolved around Mc wants or feelings. Which is another reason why I was laughing at how Mc was telling Lennox, you don’t care about me

Like DUH why would he? He’s your collaborator/colleague.

Tbh Mc didn’t need to be no damn CEO. Mc needed to live a quiet life and go to therapy and work on the codependency she’s created with everyone after years of self isolation due to trauma and this damn sick psycho abuse she’s undergone.

Yeah this has been just a big let down.

[idkfitememate]

I’m Sorry Little Brother

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN Ancient Curse! Reader x Itadori (+ others mentioned)

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 3.6k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff and angst, technically character death, Reader is a freak tbh

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : The angst inside me yearns to be released. I must write creepy little guy. (Again, no fucking clue who this is as I write)

Male reader for personal reasons?

Male reader for personal reasons.

(P.S. women can read this, but I see a single weird/fetishizing comment? Your ass is getting fucking blocked. Thank you!~ <3)

He shivered as he felt your sharpened canines sink into his neck.

It wasn’t uncommon, on nights like this, for you to slink under the cover of darkness into his room and wrap your far to big and much to long body around him multiple times over, completely covering him in you.

You were too big for his bed, often he could hear it creak underneath what you could fit onto its poor frame, the rest of your body shoved into his floor, masses of hands and tails and tongues and otherwise slithering across the wood silently.

He couldn’t bare too remember the day you became this.

The day you ceased to live.

All he really wanted to recall was that one day you were alive and well, as human as can be, then the next you were… this.

Fundamentally obsessed with everything that had to do with him, a mixture of his and your bond.

There was a reason he had no fear when he found the King if Curses had made his home inside of him.

Because you were here.

Thinking now with what knowledge he had, it would be a lie to ever call you “human”.

You were old, older than most old curses he would inevitably be forced to fight, each being hundreds if not thousands of years old.

But you…

He shivered, and you curled tighter around him, many voices whispering to him - male, female, old and young, just born and on the verge of death - that he was okay, that you would protect him from… the thing inside him.

The pinkette resigned to your grip, feeling a pair of hands wrap around his waist, the teeth that you had planted in him sinking deeper, rumbling purr-like noises emitting from your throat.

You made sure he didn’t feel it.

The pain.

Your nails scratching into skin, teeth puncturing the surface.

You “loved” him far too much.

Tails lightly thumped against your skin and his walls in a rhythm. A couple mouths, some pressed to his skin and some… away from his form panted, tongues lolling out and hot puffs of breath filling the room.

You had been such a sweet boy.

Itadori had found you one day while on an outing with his parents. You had been on a playground by yourself, wearing the classic monster truck tee-shirt and blue kids cargo shorts. Your velcro also monster truck theme shoes flew through the air as you kicked to gain momentum on the swing-set you currently occupied.

Your hair was wild and untamed as you soared through the air, your squeals and high-pitched laughter filling the air. Your carefree mood quickly inspired the boy as he turned to his parents, intent on making them say yes to him going to play with you. But, before he could even get a word out, the adults nodded at him, releasing their holds on his hands, and allowed him to race off onto the wood chip covered ground of the bright and colorful children’s playground.

“Hello!! I’m Itadori Yuji!! What’s your name?” He shouted. You glanced at him, swinging even higher, before leaping off the swing from its highest point.

He watched, slack jawed in awe as you literally flew through the air, landing perfectly on your feet. You had landed with your back to him, dramatically looking over your shoulder to stare at him. You then placed a hand on your waist and flicked your hair over your shoulder and out of your face, so he could clearly see your vibrant (e/c) eyes.

You pursed your lips into a pout with a small glare before braking out into a wide grin, displaying your inhumanly sharp teeth.

“I’m (y/n)! And you better remember it!” Fully facing him you jabbed a finger in your direction before pushing it into his chest, causing him to stumble from the sheer force behind the tap.

“And I’m your new little brother, got it? From now on I’m stickin’ by your side no matter what!” Your grin grew with every word before you snatched his wrist in your hands - your nails were sharp. They nearly pierced his skin - and dragged him onto the play set, climbing with him behind you, laughing when you reached the top first.

And that was how your weird relationship began.

You were there for him, every day. As his mother grew odder and odder and his father grew a bit more distant with each passing moment, you were a constant. Your childish grin and weird ideas - you once convinced him to launch you as hard as he could. You flew three blocks and crashed through some rando’s wall - they helped him get through life, especially when he was dumped in the care of his grandfather.

You stayed with him at that point, your parents never being mentioned once by you or anyone, nor had any missing kids reports that matched your description ever come out.

You really were like a little brother.

At least, you were.

He had no control over the situation, and it took years of comforting from his grandfather - who was getting sicker and sicker by the day - and therapy to finally come to terms with it.

Your death.

It was totally on accident, you had convinced him to go on another adventure, taking him to an abandoned building while singing, walking atop the chainlink fences as he walked beside them.

You had giggled when flashing him that signature grin, saying “I’ll go scope it out, you stay here!” or something to that effect.

And you ran inside.

He should’ve ran in after, should’ve told you he felt uncomfortable with how the building looked, should’ve said something.

But he didn’t.

And he was forced to hear your screams and cries die out beneath the rubble of the freshly fallen building.

He desperately pulled at debris, calling out to you to “Just hold on!” as he pulled large chunks of concrete from the pile and threw them away.

How he held your crushed and crumpled body in his arms, shocked to silence and paralysis.

Tears silently slid down his cheeks, soaking into the concrete. Rain began to fall, drenching the both of you.

He cradled your body, sobbing into the bloody mess that once was you.

What part of him mind that wasn’t sobbing was desperately trying to keep what little he had for lunch down. Bone fragments were everywhere, blood had splattered all across… well everything!

He could see a couple teeth and nails here and there and if he looked hard enough, he would’ve seen one of your eyes trapped between some small wall chunks.

The building had quite literally fallen with no warning, and very rapidly as well. The way it had fallen basically landed so much pressure over your body that you had actually fucking exploded.

And so, Itadori cried.

Ignoring the world around him he sobbed and sobbed, paying no mind to how your should-have-been-dead body twitched slightly in his harsh embrace. How you made noises no dead-man should, how the shadows climbed the shattered walls around him, eyes teeth and hands clawing, reaching out to him.

“Ɏ…Ʉ…J…ł…”

His breath stuttered as he hiccuped, refusing to look up.

“Ᏸ…Ꭵ…Ꮆ…Ᏸ…Ꮢ…Ꭷ…Ꮦ…Ꮒ…Ꮛ…Ꮢ…”

His grip tightened, if at all possible. He shoved his face into your neck, iron filling his nose and blood smearing his cheek.

“҉L҉…҉o҉…҉o҉…҉k҉…҉a҉…҉t҉…҉m҉…҉e҉…҉”҉

He shook his head.

”…Ǝ…M…T…A…⋊…O…O…⅃“

He sobbed louder.

“Ꮭ..Ꭷ…Ꭷ…Ꮶ…ₐ…ₜ…𝓶…𝔼…𝙱…𝙸…𝙶…B…Я…Ө…Ƭ…Ή…Σ…Я…

I̵̹̦̓Ṱ̷̒́͂̀̓̍͌̑A̵͎̦̻̰̯͇̗͙̿̄̑̈́͊̓̽D̴̙͉̺́͊͒̎̄̎̈́̉̚̕ͅO̶̟̻̬̥͑̿̊̈̎̍̚͝͝R̷̡̦̮͕̥̰̈́̅Ĩ̶̪͍͙̲͇ ̶̢̟̤̩̪̥̄Y̵̧͉̝̓̏̒͑̋̊̊͠U̴̟͉͔͙̟̮̤̗̩̓̿J̵̧̛͖̠͔̺̙̬̩̎I̴̢̡̫̰̥̮̺̥̱͌̀!̵̢̓͂̇!̸̤̱͓̿̔!̴̬̯̙̱̆̃̋̚!̶̰̱̮̹̳̥̬̀̄̀̿ͅ!̸̡̤̟́̔͘͝!̵̱̱͑̐̓̚”̵̧͚̩̝͚͍̭͛̓̀́”

He wailed as he felt the millions of hands wrap around him and your “human” corpse. It wailed with him - you wailed with him.

Thousands of sounds, from a howling dog to a screaming bird echoed as you sobbed with the boy, over your own death.

…He should’ve seen how his mother shook when you were around. Like something was deathly wrong. Her skin would pale - more than it already was - and her eyes would widen slightly. She was good at hiding her fear.

Fear of you.

He should’ve also noticed how whenever you were in a room with him or his family and others were there, you’d play the “don’t see me” game. It was simple in practice, pretend you weren’t there.

Itadori struggled, obviously, but it was brushed off by other adults as him having an “imaginary friend”.

Like they couldn’t see you.

How you’d wonder around those people and they simply didn’t notice your existence, your presence concealed from everyone besides his family.

Besides him.

How wherever you went, chaos and despair were sure to follow, with your long animalistic nails dragging lightly on someone’s skin, their name later showing up in the obituary. How you’d mutter something in someone’s ear and they would later be found guilty for the serial murders of their entire family. A glance in their direction and a new extreme suicide method would be discovered, following their death.

You were an enigma, one he wouldn’t bother solving through his rose tinted glasses.

But now, with the howling sounds of… you(??) behind him, he didn’t know.

Maybe it would be better to solve you, maybe it would’ve been better to get to know you on a more than superficial level.

Maybe he should’ve looked between the cracks of your carefully constructed caricature and see what was beneath the surface.

The monster beneath the surface.

‘He was damn good at hiding it.’ He mused, coming back to your warmth wrapped around his own, the… whimpers - he had no clue the man could make those noises… he wouldn’t mind hearing them more often - of Sukuna.

He wondered how long he had, subconsciously, known of the Jujitsu world after being introduced to you.

How often he saw small time curses and brushed them off as tricks of the light.

How often people on the streets assumed he was insane as a child when he spoke to air, having a full conversation.

“̷B̷…̷i̷…̷g̷…̷B̷…̷r̷…̷o̷…̷t̷…̷h̷…̷e̷…̷r̷.̷.̷?̷”̷

You didn’t speak much, but when you did your voice was commanding.

Even if the most prominent voice in the millions of overlays was that same voice that of the child who introduced himself as (y/n) all those years ago.

He turned to you, eyes meeting yours with hundreds of pupils dotting the whites of your scleras. Sharp teeth finally dislodged themselves from his neck, a smaller tongue coming forth and licking the wound.

“Yeah, little guy?” He responded. He tried so hard to not see you as wrong. As his little brother.

It was hard but he was pulling through, especially when you had near the same personality as back then, if not a bit more protective.

“ᒪ…ᓍ…ᐺ…ᘿ…ᖻ…ᓍ…ᑘ…”

Smiles placed themselves across your form, it reminded him of why you snuck in at night.

You didn’t want to get him in trouble.

You didn’t think of yourself and how you could get killed - he didn’t doubt his teachers, but he knew for a fact the couldn’t kill you, no way - and how sad he would be after.

You were always like that, putting his likes before your own, much to his chagrin. It was funny that way, with how you insisted to do everything for him, despite claiming him as your “older brother”.

“I… I love you too, (y/n).” Your purrs rumbled out again, loving whenever he used your name.

A part of him was grateful that you didn’t introduce him to the Jujitsu world in his youth. You hadn’t dragged him in head first, kicking and screaming.

Hell, as far as he was concerned, you never even meant for him to fall down this slippery slope but he did, and he was happy that you stuck around.

He was even more happy that you could calm - terrify would’ve been the right word - the storm that raged inside his head.

That beast.

That damned laughter echoed around his skull, constantly reminding him of failures.

Of his failure to Junpei.

As though you could feel the sudden sadness, you whined, shoving the appendage most like a head in the junction on his neck. He giggled at the feeling of a tongue running across his skin, rubbing a hand on your head(?).

“Hey now, settle down.”

A noise came from you, somewhere between a quiet bark and a yip, as you settled down, continuing to nuzzle into him.

He loved these nights.

Unfortunately, he no longer had them.

With the recent war - is this a war? He hadn’t even gotten a drivers license or gotten his first job how could he be part of a war? - he had no time for sleep.

It was constant moving, never spending more than one night in one place. His life consisted now of three main things:

Eat. Fight. Sleep (if you can).

Over and over, he never slept enough to give you a chance to slip into his grasp and share the moonlit nights chuckling at you and his little jokes.

And with that result, he could hear The King’s voice grow louder in his head. Taunting and laughing at him for every misstep and mistake.

For every death.

He was on the verge of giving up, of finally relinquishing control and sitting the recesses of his mind, ignoring the world till he was killed.

Then he met his older brother. And learned of his other brothers.

Searing pain ran through his mind at the revelation, a few images of you flickering through his brain as a harsh reminder.

And today was no better than the rest.

All. Fucking. Day. He was forced to fight curse after curse after curse with no rest. He could feel the dried blood on his skin and the screaming and aching pain of his joints and muscles, begging him for at least one full night of sleep.

He couldn’t.

Not with HIM mocking him at every waking moment.

He was loosing his grip on reality, his steps less prominent and his punches not hitting as strong as usual.

“Yuji!”

He could barely pay attention to the man who called him. His older brother..? Right, yeah. He’s fighting right now… Why is he fighting?

At that moment a punch landed to his gut, launching him back a few feet, he kneeled to the ground, clutching his stomach.

A groan left his lips as his eyes grew weary, struggling to stay open. A kick hit that same place as the punch, causing him to flip and roll over, crying out in pain.

Tears began to slip from his eyes. He knew he couldn’t keep this up for much longer, but sleeping would mean that HE would have a chance to.. a chance to…

The boy curled in on himself, arms around legs and legs pressed to his chest as he lay on his side in the middle of the road. Whimpers and tears escaped him as he laid there in fetal position, the cracked concrete beneath him growing wet with each passing second.

He felt weak.

He felt worthless.

Finally his body began to rapidly shake with how hard the sobs that tore their way through his throat were. He wailed into the air, hands gripping at his clothes. Everything stopped as he cried, the curses onslaught slowing as the half-curse looked back at his broken brother.

But as he screamed and sobbed, the air changed.

Static filled the sky as the world grew eerily quiet around them. The air stilled and something dark began to form behind the boy.

“̴Y̴…̴o̴…̴u̴…̴v̴…̴e̴…̴h̴…̴u̴…̴r̴…̴t̴…̴Y̴…̴u̴…̴j̴…̴i̴…̴e̴…̴n̴…̴o̴…̴u̴…̴g̴…̴h̴…̴”̴

Your voice rung out as clear as a bell, effectively silencing any attempts to speak out.

You were huge - easily towering over most buildings surrounding them, which stood at around 430 ft - looking like a mass of wriggling arms and mouths, tongues whipping wildly in the air. Eyes crowded around area of your body, looking in multiple directions but focusing on the now whimpering curse that had dared punch and kick Yuji. You were worm like, noted the half-curse, something like a centipede or millipede, arms and legs supporting your weight and shuffling your body forward.

But then you leaned down.

At the front of your body was an impossibly large mouth with sharpened teeth. Some of which protruded from parts of your lips and cheeks. Your maw opened and a long tongue like appendage slipped out, slithering in the air like a snake. The end opened and a much smaller form poked out, this smaller human-esk form being barely four ft in height.

A boy with dull (e/c) stared back. Long (h/c) hair flowed down his back, tied with a (f/c) ribbon. Only his waist up was exposed, but what they could see was covered by a (f/c) kimono with a gorgeous sash.

The small figure-head of a boy looked like he had jumped straight out of ancient Japan, completed with a scowl.

He opened his mouth to speak, and that’s when they saw how hollow the boy was. No teeth, no tongue. His mouth was pitch black.

[̲̅“][̲̅H][̲̅…][̲̅o][̲̅…][̲̅w][̲̅…][̲̅d][̲̅…][̲̅a][̲̅…][̲̅r][̲̅…][̲̅e][̲̅…][̲̅y][̲̅…][̲̅o][̲̅…][̲̅u][̲̅…][̲̅”]

Multiple of your mouths licked their chops as you stared down the curses, paying no mind to the half-curse.

A chuckle.

Hands flew off you from every angle, gripping the flesh of the now crying curses, ripping and tearing away at their bodies. Chunks of curse were thrown into open and waiting jaws, the crunch of deformed bones echoed.

It was only a moment more until the black haired man noticed the lack of sobbing.

It seemed the same for you because immediately after his thought, your body snapped up to glare at the top of a building. Your body climbed back up to what he realized wasn’t even your full height to stare down at the building.

To glare down the tattooed pinkette.

Animalistic growls of various kinds left your many throats as you stared down with such vibrant hatred that it made lesser curses nearby actually killed themselves in fear.

“k…i…ຖ…ງ…໐…f…¢…น…r…Ş…ē…Ş…”

Unlike his usual prideful expressions and loud boasting, the man was silent, a grimace on his face instead.

“You…” He growled.

It wouldn’t take a genius to recognize that the two of you had history. Those glares you gave each other were more than just ‘seeing the enemy for the first time glares’. Those were glares with passion.

Pure and unbridled hatred.

The air around the area of you two became so damn oppressive that it felt as though the sky itself was falling down on all those below you. The half curse fell to his knees and griped his head in pain.

He noted others doing the same. Whether it be a curse or one of the sorcerers who came when they felt the shift on the battlefield or saw your… summoning?

It didn’t seem to matter as one by one, everyone and thing fell to their knees.

The biggest issue was the fact that not even The King’s aura had every cause something like this. Sure he was suffocating but never to this extent.

That only left…

You.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍡🍫🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Back when man first made its claim across land, showing its might against enemies;

The first true fear was born.

Dark and grim in shape, it was built off the deepest and darkest desires and nightmares of sentience.

The one thing feeding its dark heart?

The primal fear of being prey.

Of being hunted.

It was the predator to humanity, the thing destined to wipe it out and what of which every other fear would soon be born of.

It was that which lurched in the shadows, it was that which watched from the deep, it was that which breathed down their necks.

Eyes to stalk your every move.

Ears to hear your every step.

Noses to smell your scent from miles off.

Legs to rush you before you could run.

Hands to grip you so you’d never escape.

And mouths to swallow you whole.

…

It fed on people’s worst fantasies.

Changing its shape to fit in, to sneak under the now watchful fearful gaze of humanity.

Taking on a man or woman’s face. Or girl or boy.

…

It fed on the worst of the worst. Tasting their sinful flesh as they committed atrocities to their own kind.

Kindled fires that turned to wars and fed on those cries.

… Till it found a boy.

A boy who gazed at it with no fear. A burning rage in his eyes.

One that could only be snuffed with bloodshed.

It took him under its wing, training him, teaching him. Hiding him from those whom wanted him dead.

But he grew arrogant.

He had grown, two faces and two arms with an added mouth then adorned his form.

He truly thought he could over take it.

Instead, he died; Or rather, he was sealed.

It felt nothing when this happened. Finding the situation to be telling.

And so, it continued. Feasting on the fears and darkest desires of humanity while watching the amass of beings like it grow.

Then, it took on the form of a child, dressed in the common wear of the century. The world was advancing, shiny metals making up the village’s - no, cities as they were now called, with the human populace unimaginably rich in numbers and cultures.

It met a boy, whom uncannily looked like the one it had taken in years ago, as did the boys father.

It vaguely remembered a concubine the other had, but never the less, it smiled.

T’was a new dawn, a new day, and a new life.

And that “boy”?

Well, he was feeling quite good~

…

“To a new era!~ Raise your glasses and cheer, fellows of the dark!~”

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Lmao I’m tired ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

[jayflrt]

Girlhood won, but Yeonjun lost. Ooof. Why do I feel like the order is gonna high key barbecue them a lil for that. I mean don’t they watch tv… Rich folk aren’t supposed to get CAUGHT with drugs—just do them because having enough money to randomly go to Monte Carlo is so stressful or whatever. I mean who wouldn’t need a blunt when they were worried about whether or not their parents will have to pay to fix their grades? Us peasants will never understand. My guess is someone is about to pay some serious scratch so this can all be a “misunderstanding.”

Also not me almost losing consciousness when you said JaYn was about to be DEPRAVED when they finally break. (So surprising that tried and true Shrek rizz didn’t do it for them. Alas 💀—Gurl put on something with a good jump scare and let that man “protect” you. I swear men cannot HeLp themselves in that situation. If they like you, they break with that perfect little bit of subtle leaning into them for security. You can’t overdo it because then it’s obvious and cheesy. And you can’t be like “nothing scares me” because whatever ok. Just letting your guard down and being a SMIDGE vulnerable—like tightening your fingers on his arm or a little jump or maybe covering your eyes… Just that little hint of vulnerability not helplessness no one needs that girl you a strong woman but I digress Jay would have been PUTTY IN HER HANDS. It’s a no-miss move. I would know 💅)

But I also feel like…….if YN was ever in actual danger of any sort… Jay would cut a man down. Like I wonder if that will come up…

ANYWHO—

New theory. Sunoo’s dad (or grandad if it was a long time ago, I forgot to check the dates 💀 but I’m just gonna assume dad so—) anyway Sunoo’s dad was the dude that got outed at Mercy Health but the accusations were just a cover for the fact that either he WAS snuggling up with YN’s mom or YN’s dad was just petty jealous and framed him. Now he’s the client and he’s looking for revenge.

OR…

The client is YN’s mom. She wants to be free to be with Sunoo’s dad or she just wants to be out of that relationship or whatever but she needs a way out and that is where Jay comes in. She needs dirt on YN’s dad to make a clean exit or a power move of some sort. She is able to blackmail Jay because maybe whatever she had on him involved someone going to the hospital…a hospital owned by Mercy Health perhaps…

GIRLHOOD WON!!!! (for now 🫣) there's a bit more on that in the next chapter where jay feels a bit conflicted about their priorities versus his own,, the class difference is getting to him i fear 🤧 (trying not to reveal Too much rn :'))

HAHAH they're gonna break a little 🤏 in the next chapter but this isn't even gonna scratch the surface for when jay finally loses it around her 😮‍💨 LMFAOAO THE SHREK RIZZ would've had me just giving up and watching the movie tbh!! 😭 shrek was definitely not the right movie for a moment like that because i cannot think of a single shrek scene that would've had me jumping or flinching around someone 😩 you're so right but our mc is lacking in the Flirting department bless her soul <33 next chapter will definitely pick up a bit tho 🤧

omg sunoo's dad and mc's mom as new suspects ✅ all solid theories actually 😳 jay has been SLACKING on the investigation tbh (blame his unwillingness to find dirt his new friends) but things will pick back up once they're back in yale 🤭 and more backstories will be revealed ofc!! it was lovely hearing from you as always 🥰 and i hope you're doing well and taking care !!! <3

[sloanerisette]

Ok, I wanted to get this up for Pride Month, but a lot was going on, including me changing what I wanted to write a few times, but I finally got something!

Tbh I've had a headcanon of trans guy Davis ever since my 02 rewatch a few years back, mostly sparked by an line from the Adventure 02 dub where Davis loudly and happily proclaims himself as "one of the guys" after getting the Digi-Egg of Friendship. I love that moment and it has just, cemented itself as a headcanon for me. So uh, you can check it out at the link, or I'll post it under a read more, and I hope y'all enjoy!

Summary: After an excited outburst the day prior, Davis finally decides to tell their group of DigiDestined just who he is. Tags: Trans Male Character, Coming Out, Post Episode 11 (The Storm of Friendship), Dub names

Yesterday had been exhausting, with rescuing Agumon from the Digimon Emperor— from Ken Ichijouji— and getting a second Digi-Egg. That was just scratching the surface of it, too, considering all the shouting that had gone on between him and TK and him and Matt.

But amidst all the fighting and the chaos and the frustration, there had been one thing that he continued to turn over in his mind ever since they got back to their world.

Tai had called him a good friend. Matt gave him a noogie. It was everything he could’ve dreamed of. In his sheer happiness he couldn’t help but shout out to his partner that he really was one of the guys now.

And that had been burned into his thoughts ever since. Even at dinner, and even well after DemiVeemon had fallen asleep and he stared at the ceiling in the dark.

Tai had always been one of the few people to truly respect him and accept who he was, but to get that same respect from Matt, one of the two coolest people he knew? He really was on cloud nine.

But just as much as he had been on cloud nine, his brain had been in overdrive thinking ever since he had shouted out “I’m one of the guys now!”

Was now the time to tell everyone? Out of all the DigiDestined, only Tai and Kari knew. Kari insisted that the others would accept him, would also still see him the same, but as he was on his way to school, still munching on a piece of toast, he couldn’t help but wonder.

As much as he didn’t like TK, he knew he wasn’t a bad person. Cody was a strange kid who he could never get a read on, but he wasn’t a bad kid by any means— the furthest thing from it, really. And Yolei… Well, she was loud, brash, and liked to rag on him, but only when he aggravated her first. If he told them, it wouldn’t go bad… right? Certainly not like with his dad, right?

It had gone so well with Tai and Kari. He still remembered the after school soccer game he met the siblings at, when he loudly told them his name was Davis and that he was a boy. He had found a hero and a friend in an instant, and whenever there was trouble with his own parents, he was always welcome at the Kamiya household. Maybe the food wasn’t the tastiest, but there was always a lot of it, at least.

He knew he had a friend and supporter in Kari no matter what, but he couldn’t help but be… scared when he thought about telling everyone else.

Kari was standing by the gates to the school, and as soon as he saw her, the smile on his face grew twice as wide and he ran over.

“Hey! Kari!” he shouted to her, putting his hands on his legs to keep himself standing and steady while he caught his breath. She laughed gently at how he nearly tripped over to reach her between the crowd of other students arriving, and as he looked up at her, that beaming smile was still on his face.

“How are you holding up after yesterday?” she asked. Davis let out a long groan.

“Ugh, I’m so tired. Armor Digivolving is tough work.”

DemiVeemon popped his head out of Davis’s backpack, “Hey! I was the one who actually Digivolved!” he squeaked out. Davis turned his head to look at his partner, a guilty, sheepish smile on his face.

“W-Well I had to pick up the Digi-Egg!” he stammered out, feeling his face go flush.

Kari couldn’t help but laugh, which caused Davis to get distracted from his playful spat with his Digimon partner.

“What about you?” he asked, shooting her a kind smile.

“I’m alright. I probably could’ve slept all day,” she sighed, “Tai’s doing good, at least. I’m really relieved about that.”

“That’s good, but you should make sure you get your rest! We can take a day off from the Digital World after how badly we just beat that stupid Emperor,” Davis said, clenching a fist in determination, which DemiVeemon copied.

“Do you have to shout about the Digimon Emperor and the Digital World loud enough for everyone to hear?”

Davis recognized Yolei’s voice anywhere, and he felt himself start to deflate from how triumphant he felt just a few moments ago.

She, TK, and Cody walked over, with their own Digimon poking out of their backpacks.

“I swear, with how loud you are, everyone is gonna know about the Digital World,” Yolei sighed. Kari and TK couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I mean, I kind of agree with him about taking the day off,” TK shrugged, “We could use at least one day after dealing with everything that happened with Agumon.

“It would be nice…” Cody mused, putting his hand to his chin in thought, “I haven’t been able to train with grandpa nearly as much lately…”

“Well, thanks for so graciously giving us the day off,” Kari teased. Davis rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well I’m happy to help, Kari! Anytime!” he said, following up with a loud laugh that caused numerous other students to look their way.

Yolei clapped her hands, “Ok! Day off!” she whooped in triumph, before pausing for a moment, her expression slowly fading, “…Ugh, no excuse to get out of work now,” she groaned. Iori patted her on the arm.

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” he told her, voice surprisingly sincere despite Yolei’s overdramatic cries.

The bell rang shortly after, and the group— minus Davis— started to walk towards the school building. Davis shuffled in place nervously, hands clenched as he tried to will himself to speak.

“Are you ok, Davis?” DemiVeemon asked quietly, poking his partner’s shoulder. Davis stayed quiet, sucking in a silent breath.

“H-Hey guys! Hold on a sec!” he shouted out, still glued in place as his friends turned to look at him.

“What’s up, Davis?” Kari asked, pausing as soon as she saw the look on his face.

“There was just, uh… something I wanted to talk about,” he said, voice quiet as he felt his stomach tie up in a knot.

“I don’t want to be late, Davis!” Yolei groaned, letting out a squeak as Kari gently bumped her in the side with her elbow.

Davis took a deep breath, slowly stepping forward as his friends looked at him. This was it.

“So, uh…” Why were words so hard to think of, especially now, especially in this moment? Why had it been so easy with his hero and his crush, but he couldn’t get the words out with his friends? His eyes darted to Kari, who gave him a warm, gentle smile.

“Whatever you have to say, you don’t have to worry. You can talk to us about anything,” she said, in that sweet tone she always spoke with to reassure someone. The same tone she spoke with when he first told her a few years ago.

He could do this.

“So, uh,” he started again, wringing his hands together nervously, “I haven’t told a lot of people this, but I’ve been thinking about it since yesterday, and, uh… I wanted to let you all know that I’m a guy.”

He did it. It suddenly felt like a massive weight was pulled off his shoulders.

“But I thought we already knew that,” his partner said from his perch on Davis’s shoulder. Davis’s face burned crimson, suddenly feeling stupid at the fact that he had basically said nothing.

However, Cody’s eyes shone with recognition, something Davis didn’t catch as he grit his teeth in frustration.

“Wh-What I mean is that, I wasn’t, like, born as a guy, I guess? Like I shoulda been, but I wasn’t, and when I realized that I just started… being a guy. And I was thinking about yesterday with everything that happened and… I just wanted to let you guys know.”

All the students had filed into the school now, just leaving their small group standing there. The silence was deafening, and Davis was mortified that maybe he had messed up. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, maybe Kari was wrong and this wasn’t a good idea…

Could they all hurry up and say something already!?

“It’s really brave of you to tell us, Davis,” Cody spoke up finally, “Kari is right, you can tell us anything, and we’ll always be here for you. If anyone gives you trouble, I’ll deal with them for you.”

Cody spoke with such conviction, and Davis couldn’t help but feel warm at how forthright the youngest member of the group was. Davis wasn’t entirely sure how Cody felt about him most times, but a gentle flush crept onto his face at how… nice it felt that he was so kind.

“Hey, wait, I don’t need you to deal with anyone! I can do it myself!” Davis shot back, clenching his hands into fists as he stamped a foot down. Kari couldn’t help but giggle.

“I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to tell us, Davis,” TK said as he strode forward, placing a hand on Davis’s shoulder that didn’t have a Digimon on it. “You’ll always be one of the guys, and you’ll always be our friend,” he added, flashing him a smile.

“Th-Thanks, dude,” Davis said with a shaking voice. Ok, so maybe TK was annoying, and knew Kari way too well, and showed him up with how much he knew about Digimon, but maybe he wasn’t that bad.

Yolei awkwardly shuffled forward, hands clasped behind her back, gaze focused on the ground, unable to meet his eyes. She kicked at the ground, taking a moment of silence before she cleared her throat.

“I’m really happy for you. A-And what they said. And, like, if I ever said anything that like, was rude about it, then I’m really sorry,” she said. Davis raised an eyebrow in confusion at her, then shook his head.

“What? No, you haven’t! Don’t worry,” he said, folding his arms after and shooting her a grin, “I could handle anything you would throw my way, anyways.”

Yolei offered him a weak, lopsided smile, “Well, still, I want you to know that I wouldn’t ever want to like, you know, not respect that.” She paused, “I’ll still give you crap, but not about that. Promise.”

“Thanks.”

“I, uh, need to head to class now,” Yolei said, immediately turning on her heel and sprint off to the school building, “I’ll see you guys later!”

TK gave Davis another pat on the shoulder before he ran off, too, Cody following him at a more relaxed pace. Davis started to walk foward, letting out a content sigh as he met up with Kari.

“I told you there would be nothing to worry about,” she said.

“Hahaha, I knew it would! Totally!” he said, putting his hands behind his head as they made their way along.

“I’m proud of you, too.”

The smile left his heart pounding in his chest, and he gave her a beaming smile, forcing out a laugh. “Th-Thanks, Kari. You know, it always means a lot how much you’ve supported me and stuff So thanks for that, too.”

DemiVeemon poked Davis in the ear, “Hey, I’m proud of you, too!” the small Digimon said.

Davis laughed, “Thanks buddy, that means a lot.”

“I didn’t realize humans could Digivolve, too! We can both Digivolve!” DemiVeemon cheered. Davis couldn’t help but laugh.

“I guess I can, huh? You hear that, Kari? I can Digivolve, too!” he said, laughing louder than before.

Turning into something better and stronger and more… him?

Yeah, he liked the sound of that.

[withleeknow]

the new chapter is 😭😭😭 you didn’t have to hurt us like that frrrr pls tell me there’s a happy ending

honestly you write mim exactly as i see him too. his love is quiet but his actions speak so much louder than any words could. in one of the skz codes the staff said that mimo has a very good eye, meaning he notices even slight changes in ppl and is actually very attentive. so more soft hours for us coz i’m sobbing over it rn

some of my headcanons include: him noticing smth is off even in texting with his s/o, like just being in tune with the vibe and when his partner is upset he’d notice almost instantly

him being a big cat and literally bonking his head against his s/o when he’s feeling affectionate or clingy

also i kinda can’t stop thinking about sleeping and tired mimo when he’s just so vulnerable and soft and *him*. he’s probably very warm to the touch too so it’s a pain to sleep with him wearing clothes. so he mostly sleeps shirtless. with those broad shoulders and his pecs and his arms i canttt skskdjdk i wanna EAT HIM

-🍑

WDYM HURT UUUUUU. I BARELY SCRATCHED THE SURFACE !! but yes there's a happy ending i love them too much to leave them sad forever 😂

ikkkkkkk he's so attentive and attuned to other people's mood changes it hurtsssss. i wrote magnolia based on that 😭 i can definitely see the bonk happening lol you'd be chilling on the couch or in front of your laptop trying to work and there'd be a needy man coming over to bonk you on the head with his head

i cannot indulge the sleeping headcanon much for the sake of my sanity (or what's left of it) bc didn't he say that he goes commando when he sleeps aksdhfkjahsekwlfewoiuejdej PLEASSEEEE

tbh i've grown so used to kpop idols being whitewashed that now it only surprises me when they aren't whitewashed 😂 but yeah every time they're whitewashed to HELLLLL and back it's just so funny to me bc they'd literally be whiter than a sheet of paper lmao

ohhhhhh peaches you have fans now 🥹

[aemiron-main]

Hey this is not meant as a criticism of your or others time travel theories, so don’t take it the wrong way, just speaking as a pleb, I do think the timeline thing tho, unless it’s explained in a way that’s super easy to understand, runs the risk of pissing off a lot of people and feeling unsatisfying simply because it’s a very confusing concept to a lot of people in general, and I know in the past a lot of “alternate reality” type “twists” (like it was just a dream, or time travel, or everything was made up in an autistic boys mind—yes that last one happened on an 80s show) have made audiences mad simply because they felt cheated and like a lot of stuff they thought mattered didnt, and for all the people online who are reading theories and scrutinizing things, there are millions more who aren’t and they should be able to follow along as well and feel satisfied (and while I am a tumblr girlie who has followed theories for years, even I didn’t clock time travel and timeline shit till you guys pointed it out here on tumblr so like, even for people in the fandom it’s easy to miss, so i imagine most GA hasn’t clocked it either ) and I’m concerned about how this theory might play out ….

I personally don’t hope it’s about timelines and such simply because of my own selfishness and no matter how i try, while the concept is interesting to me, i find it too confusing and convoluted to understand or enjoy. like i’m trying i wanna be one of the cool kids but it just… loses me completely.

i am PRAYING that if you all are right, and there are these timeline things, that the Duffers really have a succinct, and easily digestible way of revealing this to the audience that won’t take up a whole 30 min of plodding exposition that will leave the GA scratching their heads, but have it be ah OOOH WOW clever and easy to grasp twist that doesn’t leave fans feeling cheated.

I don’t care what the ending is tbh I just want them to stick it and for me to be able to understand it lol

Hey anon! This reply is gonna be shorter than I want it to be simply bc I am super sleepy rn but I just want to toss this post your way where I talked about this whole thing more in depth!

I totally see your concerns, but I actually have seen A LOT of GA folks point out the time travel/timeline stuff (just not as specific/in depth as we’ve done on tumblr), so as far as that part goes, I don’t think there’s too much to worry about. We also have to keep in mind that the duffers, while they ARE trying to write a coherent, cohesive story, are not trying to appease the GA. Many GA members also think that Byler would be “out of nowhere and too difficult to understand”. And also, I say this with Love In My Heart, but I don’t care about “well Everyone should be able to follow it and understand it”/“it would suck,” and i dont mean “i dont care” in a mean way towards you, i just mean it literally. I don’t care. Because my focus, when doing analysis, is “what is the show saying/doing?”, rather than “is the show doing it well/are they going to explain it well?”. Do i think they’re going to do it well? Yes! And I talked about that more in that post I linked. But I’m also not writing my theories around whether or not I think it would be good or bad or easy to understand- I’m writing my theories around the evidence we have & trying to figure out what they’re doing, whether they do it well or do it badly.

Like, I do disagree with “they should be able to follow along and feel satisfied” when it comes to ST & when it comes to that as an argument against timeline stuff. And the reason I disagree is because a.) they WILL be able to, just on a surface level, even if they dont fully comprehend it and b.) I don’t think a show as detailed as ST, is obligated to tone itself down. People can rewatch & figure things out like a puzzle. I don’t think all media needs to be completely, fully easily digestible for everyone. I think it’s fine to make viewers need to think about things!!! And I think that the duffers/the ST team is going to be able to find a happy medium between the more complex stuff & a simpler cohesive surface narrative, especially since the timeline stuff doesnt so much seem to be “going back and fixing things/none of mattered” as it is “the timeline stuff has been causing problems from the Very Beginning and we need to set it right/everything still happened.” I also think that a lot of it us the duffers fucking with the audience’s perception of things & that we’ve already been seeing multiple timelines the whole time, which allows them to tie things up more neatly because they dont have to blast through and show us all the timelines- we’vd already seen them.

I hope this is somewhat coherent bc like I said im half awake right now, so if any of this sounds snarky towards you, it’s not meant to be! <333 I really do think they’ll be able to pull things off in a way that’s complex enough to be interesting/leave more puzzles to solve/make people rewatch to spot things, but also still easy enough to understand that things are wrapped up effectively! And personally, if they ARE going to mess it up (which i really really doubt they will, because like i talked abt in that linked post, the timeline stuff is alllllll interconnected to the main unsolved questions/plot points in ST) there’s nothing i can do about that!!! I’m not in the writers’ room! So, I focus on what I can do- analyzing the information we have & trying to figure out what direction the show is going to take, regardless of whether that direction is good or bad. (and i think it’ll be fantastic!!)

[heloflor]

Ranking the 10 Showtime transformations because why not

Note that this is based on gameplay. If it was based on design, this list would be widely different. Mild spoilers as I mention the number of levels + a few elements in some of them.

(1.5k words below)

10. Swordfighter Peach: The more trailers I saw the more I expected this one to be rather dull and repetitive, and yeah it was. All you do is run and press a button, sometimes having to wait before pressing it. It probably doesn’t help that I’m not into beat 'em ups. The design and aesthetic are really cool, but the gameplay really gets dull.

9. Mermaid Peach: Ok so while I absolutely adore this game and would buy a sequel/DLC in a heartbeat if Nintendo released one tomorrow, there are two big issues I have with it. You can’t skip the in-level cutscenes and dialogues (which makes going back to collect everything very tedious) and the game is way too short.

Tbh I would’ve loved to have at least eight levels per transformations, but regardless I do think we should have had at least five, that way not only would the game be longer but we could also have had more game mechanics for each transformation, as there was a lot of potential here and it feels like the game only scratched the surface of what could be done with them (ngl I’m very curious about the scrapped content of this game).

The way I see it, the first and second levels stay the same, third you start in the transformation and it introduces a new mechanic, fourth is the Sparklas rescue level, and fifth is a play done fully with the Sparkla by your side, as I feel like having one long/full level with each Sparkla would have made one specific cutscene more effective since we would’ve seen more of them as a result.

Going back to the topic of Mermaid Peach, thing is, while each transformation had more potential, I’m still very satisfied with what we ended up having for all of them, including Swordfighter. Mermaid is the exception tho, as unlike the others it feels like an actual waste of potential, not helped by the first level being a complete slug in its first half and the Sparkla level being ridiculously short.

Like that transformation is just a whole lot of nothing. You either move some fishes or do a not-actually-a-rhythm-game concert, both of which aren’t the most interesting thing. Tbh I should probably put it below Swordfighter but I do like controlling the fishes, especially in the second level, so it gets some points for that. But it’s still a very “nothing” transformation.

I think the issue is that they didn’t fully commit to their ideas for it. Like we get a few puzzles but they’re way too short and easy, same with the concert that isn’t much of a minigame. I feel like had they pushed for longer or more complex puzzles and done something different for the concert, it would have been a better transformation. Or at least make the puzzles of the first level better, as I do like the way they handled the second level’s fight-oriented section.

And unrelated but huge props to whoever did the opera singing bc some of the notes they hit are high!

8. Mighty Peach: It’s basically the same issue as Swordfighter. You run around and attack, rinse and repeat. But this time it’s more satisfying and there’s more gameplay variety. Also the boss of the second stage had so much effort put into them and I can’t help but love it for it. Still all about running and punching, but it’s more fun.

7. Kung-Fu Peach: Same deal as Swordfighter and Mighty. Now I’m putting it above the other two bc they do try to give you different ways of fighting on top of some platforming, and going down the polls is very satisfying when there are tons of enemies. I also find the bosses to be better than Swordfighter, even if in both cases it’s just “press the attack button at the right time”. I think it’s the animations, it’s just more fun. The boss for the Sparkla rescue is especially enjoyable. But yeah ultimately it’s still a lot of running and punching.

6. Figure Skater Peach: This one was weird to rank bc I do really like the gameplay, they did a really good job at mixing up minigame with fighting, plus the boss is fun. But at the same time the levels themselves aren’t all that good imo.

I think this transformation might suffer the most from only having three levels. Like I wish we had more exploring/"platforming" the likes of the first level (the section after the performance but before the boss), but at the same time I like the parade float idea of the second level. The first level also has a fairly long “tutorial” (the performance section) but at the same time I get why it’s there. So yeah, I guess the issue is moreso how little levels they are, making the flaws of what we have stand out more.

On that note, I found the controls to be a bit janky at times, especially when it comes to turning around, but I’m willing to forgive some of it since it’s ice physics + gives some more difficulty (even though I’m not the biggest fan of when the difficulty comes from jankiness rather than lack of skill)

The sparkla level is amazing tho!

5. Patissiere Peach: The transformation I expected the least of and ended up genuinely surprised by how enjoyable it is. You don’t even do that much, there’s only two minigames that are played out three times, but for some reason I still love it. And I like how tight the timing on the cookies is on the second level, in general they don’t leave you much room to mess it up which I like.

4. Cowgirl Peach: It’s basically the opposite of Figure Skater. I don’t find the gameplay itself all that interesting but the levels are so good and manage to use said gameplay very well, which really makes up for it! The second and Sparkla level in particular are really good, I really enjoyed them!

3. Dashing Thief Peach: Look I grew up playing Mario games, of course I’m going to enjoy the 2D platforming levels. But yeah those are really fun! Love the vibes, cool levels, and I especially like the Sparkla one as it really feels like they’re testing you on every ability with the four different rooms + the escape. Really enjoyable transformation!

2. Detective Peach: I had no idea what to expect of this one and am still surprised by how much I love it. I don’t know if this is the mystery angle, the fact you can skip dialogues and even go straight to the answer if you want to without needing any clue (which makes replaying the levels way less tedious), the Junior detective that I can’t help but love, the fact you can check on everything which makes my monkey brain happy, Peach’s “I’m smarter than everyone else” face when getting the answer that I find hilarious, or level 2 as a whole (especially the very beginning and “cutscene” at the end), but yeah I adore this one!

The only negative I can say is that there’s little replayability once you know the answer, which I’m assuming is an issue with the genre in general so it’s not like the game could have done this differently, and the Sparkla level which is way too short and easy. Other than that, love it!

1. Ninja Peach: Like I said for Dashing Thief, I’m a big fan of platforming. And this level is all platforming on top of really fun infiltration. They also somehow managed to make auto-scrolling sections fun, which I really like (I think it’s the speed that makes them enjoyable).

Speaking of infiltration I’m also a big fan of all the silly animations Peach has when sneaking around (the two branches clearly not made of grass, the wall disguise that doesn’t hide her hair, the bamboo, the shoes when walking on water, the log with hair when spotted, trying to walk sneakily in that one section from the second level), you can tell the people working on the game had fun with those!

Also the “scroll usage” sections are incredibly satisfying, especially the one from the second level. The Sparkla level is also very fun, tho not my favorite. But yeah, it’s just a very fun and satisfying transformation!

(Note that I’m aware of how dumb it is to complain about some transformations “not having much going on gameplay wise” or “only being two buttons to push” when literally every single one of them is just pushing two buttons, but the difference lies in how much variety they were able to get out of each transformation on top of the genre for each, both of which make for a more or less enjoyable experience depending on the transformation.

For example, both Swordfighter and Dashing Thief only have two buttons you can push, but Swordfighter ends up being exclusively about fighting enemies, while Dashing Thief has a few puzzles, some quick action moments, a gliding section and some “rail sliding” (no idea what else to call it). It’s still just pushing two buttons, but they got more variety out of it, hence being more interesting.)

[sangcreole]

@hekateinhell sent: 🎤 tbh I just want to hear you wax poetic about the evolution of Louis's love life (devolution? idk this man jumped from crazy dick to psycho dick and back and back again and then back yet again like it was the world's most deranged carnival ride) so the good, the bad, and THE UGLY and whether or not you think Anne did it all justice and WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE LIKED TO SEE THAT WE DIDN'T GET

GODDDD this is 13 minutes and I feel like I barely even scratched the surface asfdghgjhvbjzsefr i feel like i didn’t even talk about any good bits it’s just louis being a guilt-ridden freak LMAO but thanks for prompting this unhinged rambling ily <3

[nikkiruncks]

zenmasters for the otp asks

Omg Anna! It’s been too long! Hope ur doing well!

1. Who fell for the other one first? Hyde for sure. I used to say Jackie because of season 3 but that mostly seemed like obsession looking back.

2. Was it love at first sight? Not at all lol

3. Was it lust at first sight? I can see that tbh. Even though Hyde and Jackie didn’t like each other, I highly doubt that neither found the other attractive.

4. What do physical trait do they love the most about each other? They both love each other’s eyes and smiles. Also their bodies lol.

5. What personality trait do they love the most about each other? Hyde loves that Jackie has a big heart and how genuinely tough she can be. Jackie loves Hyde’s honesty and heart.

6. What random everyday object/activity makes them think of each other? At the makeup salon, there’s a Led Zeppelin painting, making Jackie think about him. And with Hyde, some of Jackie’s favorite music will be sold in the store.

7. What is something they'd want to change about the other if they could? Hyde would probably change her bossiness and Jackie would change his closed off ness. But aside from that, nothing.

8. Do they get along with each other's friends and family? Despite Jackie’s…intenseness, W.B. really like her and thinks she’s a smart girl. Angie also thinks she can be kinda a lot, but does like her. And I think we both know how Red and Kitty feel about the two of them. They’re like parents to the two. Same with Eric and Donna (who are also like family to them)

9. Do their friends and family like their significant others? Obviously yes

10. Have they had romantic partners before? Also yes. (Tho Jackie is Hyde’s first (and probably only serious relationship))

11. Are they a healthy couple? If no, why not? For the most part yes. Minus last season 5 and most of season 7. They both love and support each other and inspire each other to be better people.

12. Do they have potential to be healthy if they're usually toxic? Yes. If in late season 7, they just talked about their issues instead of the writers reducing them to some forbidden lusty connection when they were so much more than that. I wrote a fic called Love that addressed their issues.

13. Do they have potential to be toxic if they're usually healthy? Yes. Season 7 for starters and the whole thing with the nurse and Hyde acting like the wounded party.

14. What song fits them perfectly? Paper Rings, All Too Well, Love Story, Cruel Summer

15. Do they like the same music? Not at all. But they do try to be open to each other’s tastes.

16. Do they like the same food? Some, yes.

17. What do they have in common? They both are so much more than what scratches the surface, they have awful parents, they both are brutally honest, etc.

18. What is their sex life like? They have a very healthy and active sex life. But they just talk and hangout more.

19. Would they ever lie to each other? Why or why not? In canon, they have lied to each other several times but after fixing their issues, I don’t really think so. Plus Jackie would always find out and vise versa.

20. Are they interested in marriage? Why or why not? In my eyes, they’re already married and pregnant with twins lol.

21. Are they interested in having children? Why or why not? Same as 21. But on a serious note, yes. They are both scared shitless tho because of their own home lives.

22. Do you have other ships that resemble your OTP? Dair, Bamon, Gwikki

23. Is there top/dom and bottom/sub energy? Jackie is a top.

24. Are there any kinks or fetishes they share or don't? Not really. They do try using toys one but Jackie hated it and Hyde was uncomfortable (mostly because his chick was). Jackie does dress in a cheerleading uniform and Hyde in a Led Zeppelin shirt (similar to Peraltiago on their honeymoon)

25. Are they sentimental about gifts they've received from each other? They both prefer gifts from the heart.

26. What holidays do they like? Halloween

27. How do they feel about Valentine's day? Jackie loves it because of dressing up but Hyde just doesn’t care for it. Similar to Gloria, Jackie kept trying to get Jay to dress up but for a while it didn’t work. One day, he sees his son and daughter dressed up as Mickey and Minnie and gets won over. Jackie would cheer and Hyde would try to get her to stop.

28. Are they jealous/possessive of each other? Same as canon. But for the most part, they’re both very confident in their relationship.

29. Do they like public display of affection? For sure.

30. Do they enjoy dancing? Hyde hates it but loves Jackie so he dances with her anyways.

31. What's a perfect date for them? Them going to a nice restaurant.

32. How do they comfort each other? Hugs. They’d both mostly comfort each other in actions rather than words.

33. Who is the big spoon and why? Hyde is big spoon obviously because look at them…

34. What's their favorite nonsexual activity together? Just talking to one another and also watching tv.

35. How do they deal with being away from each other for a long time? They usually call and FaceTime each other. Hyde would sometimes sleep with the pink pillow Jackie put in his room and Jackie would sleep in Hyde’s Zeppelin shirt (now I’m emotional and want to write a drabble on this)

36. What is their favorite place to kiss the other? Hyde loves to kiss her nose and Jackie loves his lips.

(Cheek, hand, closed eyelid, neck, nose, etc.)

37. Have they ever hurt each other on accident? Yes.

38. Have they ever hurt each other deliberately? Also yes.

39. Who gets hit on the most? Hyde but Jackie has gotten hit on a few times too.

40. Who tries to distract the other when they're trying to do something else? Jackie

41. Who is, overall, the smarter one? Both are equally smart

42. Who is the sensible mature one? Hyde

43. Do they fight a lot? Not really. They bicker but not fight.

44. How do they make up after a fight? Talking it out, a hug, then makeup sex.

45. If one of them forgot to log out of their SoMe, what would their partner do? Neither really logs out tbh.

46. How do they make each other laugh? Hyde would try to say something lighthearted to make her laugh. Jackie would try to sing to Led Zeppelin.

47. Are they extroverts/introverts? Hyde, I feel is an introvert in some ways. Jackie is an extrovert for sure.

48. Who would bring home a homeless animal? Neither. If anything, their kid would bring a homeless animal and try to convince them to keep it.

49. Do they match outfits for special occasions? For formal event, yes. Sometimes, Jackie would wear a sparkly black dress and Hyde, a black suit and tie.

50. Who would protect who in a dangerous situation? Both. Hyde would do anything for his chick but Jackie would kill for Hyde.