#everything soft and gentle dies and its just Hate again

[deathfavor]

“When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him.”

Now when I tell you this is Soma and Seiroku coded-

[kingtomura]

Ashes to ashes

Summary: Even in the cold aftermath of the war, Tenko rests knowing he's not alone cw: tomura shigaraki x female reader, fix it fic, fluff, drabble, how its actually going to end tbh wc: 742

Everything is bright. 

It’s the first thing he could think of as he blinks his eyes open. The sluggish movements paired with the rhythmic beeping of a machine next to him made it all feel more jarring. 

Once the blurring of his vision cleared he had a better idea of his situation. 

He’s in the hospital. 

There is a window, a machine monitoring his vitals and

You. 

Your head is down as you sat by the side of his bed, the slow breathing of your form clueing him in on your current sleeping status. 

How long have you been here? At his side as he lie in a hospital bed for god knows how long? 

His heart — feeling new, feeling warm aches in ways that have nothing to do with the soreness of his other muscles. 

It makes him reach out to you, his hands are bandaged, but he knows decay no longer rests within him. He knows the quirk was destroyed along with his hatred, yet he still maintains a lifted finger as he pets the top of your resting head. 

Somehow you were so comfortable sleeping at an awkward angle — leaning over onto his bed as you sat next to him in your chair. 

It’s cute. 

You’re cute. 

He feels a smile pull at his features, it grows even bigger as you stir, waking to the disturbance. 

Your eyes are slow as they open and he can only feel himself relax as you look at him again. 

He thought he’d never see you again. 

“Tenko.” Your voice is soft, heavy with sleep as you speak and the words waver with the tears filling your eyes. “Thank god you’re awake.”

Yes, Tenko, no longer Tomura Shigaraki. It feels like a dream, but that part of him died with the end of the war. Only the embers of his true being remaining to be born again from the ashes. 

Your hand catches his and there is no fear in your movements. You are not afraid of him — you were never afraid of him. 

You’ve always loved him throughout it all. 

“How long have you been here?” He drags himself to ask, voice hoarse from lack of use and Tenko can see the way your shoulders shake as you struggle to answer — as you struggle to fight the tears. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Is your only response as you rise from your chair, knocking it back from the force of your movements as you race to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. 

It’s tight and it presses on the bandages all over his body but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s just content with you being the first thing he sees as he came to. 

He doesn’t acknowledge your shaking sobs, knowing you would get on to him about calling you a crybaby. No, he allows you this moment, pulling you in closer and burying his nose into the crook of your neck. 

“I was so scared, Tenko,” you start, words breaking free from the confines of your mind, “I thought you were gone for good.”

He rubs soothing motions onto your back, pulling you in tighter. “I thought I was, too.”

The words only make you cry harder, the tears make his heart ache along with the pain throughout his body now. 

“I love you, I love you so much,” you murmur, and he knows. He’s always known. “Please don’t ever leave me again.”

Tenko pulls you back, forehead now resting against yours and — god, he knows you would hate to hear him say it, but he can’t help it. He thinks you’re cute in all forms, even when crying. 

“I,” he pauses and looks at you, really looks at you — and seeing his entire world in your eyes only brings the sting of unfamiliar tears. “I love you, too. I won’t leave your side again.”

He brings you in for a kiss, a gentle press of his lips against yours and you take all that you can, eyes closing and head tilting. 

Tenko pulls away and it’s brief only to mutter a firm, “I promise.”

Then he’s back, kissing you like his life depended on it. 

Even so close to you, he knows the warm tears trailing down his face were his own. The burn of them is unmistakable. Tenko can only bring himself to smile into the kiss, feeling anew. 

He can’t remember the last time he cried. 

[koling2345]

Haunted

Simon Riley X Fem! Reader

Tw: angst(?), smut, unprotected sex, body descriptions(especially Simon's body🫠), threats mentioned, break up.

Summary: Meeting with your ex after a sudden break-up, what could go wrong?

Wc: 5.4k

A/n:Sorry that this took so long😭 Uni and work are biting my ass recently. Again, sorry for mistakes, it's late, and I'm sleepy but wanted to post. Hope y'all like it.

Simon was a man who always seemed to be grieving, so serious, too stoic, he hardly spoke. But that changed with you, he was gentle, soft, loving, that was just you, just you.

You certainly made a change in his life, in such a good way that Simon wondered if he really deserved someone like you.

But that's Simon Riley's life, where everything he cared about died or left him.

Where nothing he wanted turned out right.And his relationship with you was perfect, you were someone who understood him so well, for some reason you always managed to calm him down when he was in the worst of moods. You were definitely for him.

Everything changed after a mission, it was supposed to be just another terrorist group that he had to stop, but it was different this time. At the time of the mission, everything went smoothly, according to the plan Price had drawn up, almost without a flaw.

The problems began to appear as soon as they got back to base, and after the mission was completed, the team members began to receive threats. Several at once, with no specific address or format.It could be a cell phone message, a piece of paper with something strange written on it, a call that as soon as you answered the phone went silent, just a breath on the other end. Any kind of thing.

Given the kind of job Simon had, this was a fairly normal occurrence, he had enemies left and right, he probably had more enemies than friends at that point. Most of the time these threats were nothing more than bluffs by someone who had been upset by the death of a criminal, friend or family member.

But as every rule has its exception, this time the threats weren't empty.One day at the base, Johnny arrived distressed, saying that his sister had received a threat to her life, and it hadn't been over the phone. The poor girl woke up to a rock being thrown through her window, almost hitting her.

No one knew how they had found Johnny's family, how they had managed to find his confidential information, but they had, and now it wasn't just the boys who were in some kind of danger.

And the situation got worse as the days went by, the next event was with Price, and Gaz soon followed. In the same way, it affected people close to them.Simon was the only one who came out of all this 'unscathed', because before they could find the only important person in his life, you, he made sure to send you as far away from his life as possible.

No matter how painful it was.As much as he hated the decision, there was no way he could go back on it, because that would be putting your safety at risk.

And he certainly couldn't take any chances, he'd seen Johnny's family threatened to be killed, Price's children almost kidnapped, and Kyle's partner stalked. This didn't happen without reason, or by pure coincidence. Simon had been in this line of work for a long time, long enough to know that this was revenge, and there was a good chance that the enemies would only stop when they managed to hurt someone. And he wouldn't risk your life for the world. Not ever.

So it was easier to get away from you, to end the relationship in the most stupid way possible, to make you angry with him, and it was easier to get away from him.Because he knew that if for some reason he told you the real reason for that reaction, there was no way you would agree to break up with him. No way.

In the worst-case scenario, he knew what had to be done, and he did it.He's felt like shit ever since, just remembering the way you started crying and sobbing when he told you he wanted to break up with you was enough to put a lump in his throat.It had been three weeks since he'd done that to you, and even then the feeling didn't go away, if anything, it got worse.

These last few days he'd been drinking more than usual, smoking as many cigarettes a day as Price. It wouldn't be surprising if he had black lung before he was fifty.It was something that eased some of the anguish he was carrying, even if only for a moment.

So today was another Saturday, a day off he'd gotten after working all week, and just like last week, he found himself in the same place, the pub he always came to.He'd already lost count of how many shots he'd had, at which point the bourbon didn't even burn as it went down his throat. Maybe he was a bit tipsy, but not drunk, Simon had a high resistance to such things.

But even the amount of cigarettes and booze he'd consumed that night wasn't enough to inhibit his vision of the silhouette that appeared in the corner of his eye.In any case, at first he thought they had put something strange in his drink, perhaps causing some delirium.But no, it was you, in person.

You looked so beautiful, like a vision of paradise. If he was being honest, seeing you showing off all those curves in a tight dress was enough to make his mind go to dirty places.

Despite this, you didn't seem to see him, too excited about your friends to pay attention to what was around you. Not that he cared, since a small part of him was grateful that you hadn't noticed him, he didn't know if he could bear to see your sad eyes one more time.

So he took on the role of silent observer, standing in the corner as he watched your movements. And, it was eerie, unsubtle, but it was the only way he could see you up close after so long.Simon knew it might be better to leave, because the more time he spent in your presence, the more he wanted to go up to you and grab you, but he controlled himself.

Well, he didn't know until when.

A long time passed, and you still didn't notice him there, until one of your friends whispered something to you, causing you to look at Simon almost immediately. He was without that skull mask that he only wore for work, outside the field the piece of cloth was locked in a drawer.

His eyes were fixed on you, he didn't even bother to disguise it. And you felt like you could map his face just by looking at him, the small scruff of hair growing on his face, the scars he had here and there. One of these was large, running from his cheek to his mouth.But that's what made him unique, the Simon you knew and loved like crazy.

When he broke up with you, it was all so fast, you couldn't understand it. For days you wondered if it was something you had done, because Simon was certainly an enigmatic man, but you knew he would tell you if you had done anything wrong.

The relationship ended with gaps, gaps that you desperately wanted to understand.Simon knew how to avoid you, and he did so over the last few weeks, you went to his apartment several times, you texted him, it was humiliating, but you wanted to understand why he made that decision.

But after a few weeks with no results, you gave up, and now you're here facing him again.Not that you're much of a believer in such things, but you'd like to think that this meeting wasn't in vain, not a coincidence of fate. Maybe this was your last chance to get along with him, and you were going to make it count.

Well, not in the cleanest way in the world, not least because you doubted very much that Simon would talk to you out of sheer will. But that's what friends are for, isn't it? Surely they could help you get the lieutenant's attention.

With that in mind, you and your friend put on a little show, pretending that he'd knocked you down and that you'd hurt your foot in the process. Not that it was difficult, given the heels you were wearing.

After faking the little fall, you saw Simon's expression change for a few seconds, and you knew for sure that he had fallen for your trick. The moment you fell, he almost got up from the stool he was sitting on, almost going to rescue you from the fall.Almost.

And you even said out loud that you were going to the restroom to check, denying your friends' help and pretending to be tough, something Simon hated. Little by little, he fell for your little story.

Maybe you were just a good actress, or Simon was too concerned about everything that involved you. Go on, probably both.

You made your way limply to the restroom, doing your best to pretend you were in pain, as if it were the worst pain you were feeling at the moment. You stayed in the restroom for a good few minutes, hoping and praying that he would come after you.

As you leaned on a stall in the restroom, you didn't hear the door opening, because you were fixated on looking at your cell phone, waiting for a message from him.To your surprise, you only felt strong arms pulling you into the stall, locking you and the person inside.

You were about to scream because you thought it was a stranger, but as soon as you saw those brown eyes you loved so much, all that appeared on your face was a smile.

“You scared me...” You whispered, your voice without any bite or malicious tone, probably all that was in your tone was affection.

He scoffed, looking you up and down, “Apparently your foot is better now.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain the mischievous smile that threatened to appear on your lips.

Even though he treated you like an asshole, you could still feel his love for you in his gaze.

And, oh God, seeing you smile like that made his heart beat faster.When you moved, he looked down and saw that you were back in your high heels, making him frown.

It wasn't long before he put two and two together.

“Little minx.” He mutters, narrowing his eyes at you.

“I think it's sore...” You say, trying to keep up the act that your foot really was hurt. Did you really think you could make a fool of him?

By this point Simon should be used to your antics, or maybe he was playing dumb as an excuse to see you. In any case, he knelt down in front of you, picked up your foot and examined it.

His calloused hands gave you goose bumps, and it didn't get any better when he gently removed your shoe to get a better look at your heel.

And to confirm his suspicion, there was no swelling, it was just you pretending to be hurt.He wrinkled his eyebrows, looking at you, and just when you thought he was going to complain to you, the softest of smiles appeared on his lips, along with a shake of his head.

“Bloody pest...” He said under his breath, his tone betraying the lightness his voice carried, without any bite.

“Ah...Well...I guess I was wrong...” You say back, your voice as weak as that of a child who's just been caught up in something stupid.

Silence fell around you both, the only sound being your breathing in that cramped space.

“Are you all right?” You ask softly, looking at him with nothing but tenderness.It was hard to keep your composure when he was this close, making you sure you were far from getting over him.

And he wasn't too different from you, since it was hard not to remember everything he'd been through with you, all the sweet memories you'd both built up.

“Going.” He murmurs, letting instinct take him as he gently tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, taking a moment to look at you.

To really look at you.

“I wanted to talk to you...” You begin, seeing his expression change to a stoic one as soon as you've uttered the phrase.

You knew it wouldn't be easy to have this conversation with him. Simon knew how to hide his feelings very well when he wanted to.

“We've talked before... There's no need for that now.” His voice was now more serious, harsh.

“No. You talked! I didn't have a chance to respond!” You protested, gripping his arms tightly, as if you could hold that man down if you wanted to.

He grunted, narrowing his eyes at you as he took a deep breath. He wasn't ready to see you sad again, he couldn't take it this time.Simon was definitely a softie when he was with you.

You had him wrapped around your finger.

"Did I... did I do something?” You asked, your voice shaking from the nervousness you were beginning to feel.

He denied it with his head, not elaborating much on his answer.

“What was it then? Was it something that happened? Or... Or is there someone else?” You ask once again, your voice low and small in the face of the possibilities.

What if he had someone else? What if he broke up with you because of this other person?

Simon almost laughed at the absurdity of your question, he couldn't even think of anyone else, after you, there was no one else. No one.

“Nothing like that.” He retorted, looking at you with a certain estrangement. It wasn't possible that you were thinking so lowly of him.Not that he'd given you the best impression in the world recently.

You even asked him other questions, which honestly fell on deaf ears, as he could only watch the way your lips moved, your gloss gleaming in the dim light of the restroom. You were just as perfect as he remembered, if not more so.

No one was ironclad, and he was no different, so he silenced your chatter by bringing his face close to yours, his nose touching yours, his forehead to yours.

“I... Can you kiss me?” You whisper, giving him the best pleading eyes you can manage.

And fuck, looking at your sly little face, your pouty lips, he can't say no.

He couldn't deny you in a million years.Hearing you say please, in such a sweet voice, was enough to get his blood pumping.

When you felt his lips on yours, it was like a little taste of heaven. As soon as his lips moved against yours, it was as if a lever had turned on the two of you, and something gentle and innocent turned into a hot, languid kiss.His hands soon found their way to your hips, pulling you to him as he deepened the kiss even more.

His tongue almost invaded your mouth, roughly exploring every corner inside your mouth. You knew Simon, when he wanted it, he got it. Just as he could be the kindest man in the world to you, he could also be the devil on earth if he wanted to.

When his lips parted from yours, almost painfully, Simon felt a warmth run through his body as he looked at you.

Lips swollen from the kiss, face reddened, your mouth hanging open as you looked on with the slyest eyes you could muster.

Simon knew full well that he should leave, his mind screaming one thing and his heart another, it would be better if he cut off all contact, but he couldn't force himself to do it.

So since he was going to stay, he decided to make a decision. He turned you around, making your back face him.He pushed you against the door, gluing his body to yours, leaving no space between you.

It was better if he didn't see your face while he was taking you, because if he did, he wouldn't be so sure not to take you home.

Of not picking you up and hugging you while the two of you snuggled in his bed, under his covers. In his house. If he really saw your expressions at that moment, all the strength he had would go down the drain.

You felt your body shiver when he started kissing your neck, his warm breath hitting your sensitive skin.

The feel of his tongue on your skin, the way he nibbled and licked your neck, everything he did was enough to make your knees buckle.

“You smell so good...” He purrs, pressing his nose into the crease of your neck, taking a deep inhale.

“Fucking good...” He adds, his voice gradually getting huskier, making your body hair rise at the sensation of the vibration of his voice on your skin.

He simply loved your smell, it was something uniquely yours, he couldn't find it anywhere else. It made him feel at home, feel alive. It drove him crazy.

By now he was hard, feeling his cock throbbing inside his pants, almost begging Simon to get him out of the confines of his clothes.

And well, he was sure you were already wet by then, he could feel your wet panties brushing against him, not that that little dress did much to hide you, especially when you were leaning over like that.

“Did you miss me?” he asked in a purr, making you roll your eyes at his husky voice in your ear.

" A lot... A lot...” You murmured breathlessly, not caring that you looked like a bitch in heat for him.You heard him chuckle behind you, one of his hands going down to your mound, cupping it in his hand.His other hand went to your breast, feeling your hard nipple against the thin fabric of your dress.

“Lower your dress for me, sweet thing...” He murmured, tugging at the straps of your dress, encouraging you to expose yourself to him.

And you did, pulling your dress down to your waist, then letting it fall to your heels.Behind you, he took a deep breath and stepped back, looking at your naked body, covered only by your panties.

No bra, the sight that made him growl, literally. His hands were quick to go to your breasts, taking them in his hands, squeezing and playing with your nipples.

“Nice tits, eh? You wanted to show off for me? Walking around without a bra like that?” He asked, giving your breasts a firm squeeze that made you moan, feeling pain and pleasure at the same time, just the right amount.

“For you... Just for you...” You said under your breath, your hands hovering over his.

Before you could think of anything to say, he leaned into you, holding you tightly and preventing any way you could come up with to get away from him, not that you were even thinking of doing that.

“Pretty little thing...” He grunted, pressing his erection into the middle of your ass, rubbing against you hard, as if he were some animal in heat, out of control, feral. He kissed your jaw, open-mouthed, his breath on your face, his face so close to yours.

You could already feel your mind fogging up, unable to form anything coherent.

He was so focused on it, he didn't even see that you were wetting his jeans, soaking wet, already making a mess of his pants.

“Fucking hell....” He almost hissed behind you, before you could protest he lowered two fingers to your wet surface, teasing you.In a matter of seconds you had two thick fingers hovering over your entrance.

Simon was such a bastard that he knew what you wanted, so he began to tease you slowly, just putting his fingertips into your entrance, only to withdraw them later.

“Si-” you whimper, turning your head a little to look at him in a sly way.And well done, those little eyes sent a wave of warmth straight to his cock.

With your little moan you managed to get him to start massaging your clit in circles, your pussy getting even wetter.

The next thing you felt were his lips trailing down your back, leaving hot, wet kisses, completely sloppy. His hot, uneven breathing on your skin was enough to make your pussy clench into nothing, you wouldn't doubt that you could cum for him for so little.

“You're so beautiful....So beautiful...” He whispered, leaving a trail of hot kisses all over your back, going down and down, leaving a trail of goosebumps everywhere his lips touched.

He was aching, hard as a rock, but he was damned if he wasn't going to taste you before he did anything else.

From kiss to kiss he made his way to your pussy, kneeling behind you as he stared at your glistening hole.

Your legs trembled as he gave your cunt a lingering kiss, the direct contact of his lips with your bottom lips was enough to make your knees shake.The feeling increased even more when he put his tongue on your clit, caressing the sensitive little bud with his wet muscle.

You arched your hips, whimpering as he began to eat you out, in a way that only he knew how to do, not least because he knew every one of your weak points. He was too observant for that.

He took this as an incentive to continue, he began to lap you up like an animal, an animal that hadn't been dined for months.His hands spread your ass cheeks, opening you up in an obscene way, not that you minded. You were in heaven with his every lick, your cunt clenching around his tongue, your mind going a mile a minute as he pleasured you.

With every stroke he grunted behind you, the sounds coming from the back of his throat vibrating in your folds every time he produced them.Simon was a messy eater, your juices glistening on his chin as he fucked you, he kissed, sucked, licked, his mouth worked untold wonders on you.

He knew well enough when you were close, your tight pussy clenching and you whimpering even more, the sweet little moans that were better than anything he'd ever heard.

When you arched your hips once more, his nose going even deeper into your folds, his tongue darting in and out of your cunt, fucking you deliciously.

“Mh-T-Too close.” You stutter, feeling your legs begin to tremble at the sensation of your approaching orgasm.

“Cum.” He murmurs against your flesh, giving your pussy a long lick, only to start lapping at it again.And you obeyed like a puppy, squirting your juices into his mouth without any shame.

And he, even more shamelessly, swallowed it all, without spilling a drop. He literally licked you clean, keeping you nice and open to lick up everything you had to offer.His slurping sounds echoed in your ears, making you wet once again, as if you were a fucking well full of water, always leaking.

“Nice and clean.” Simon murmured, leaning back a little to see the work he'd done, his lips were all wet with your juices, but for him it was a more than delicious sensation.

Well, yeah, you were clean, just for him to get you dirty one more time. His to mess up.

Behind you, the sound of him undoing his pants echoed in the bathroom, making you shiver in anticipation. In fact, you hadn't even been able to stop your legs from shaking after your orgasm.

The soft 'thump' of his belt made you turn your body back a little, watching him undress.He smiled in a cheeky way, not at all ashamed to show off his big, muscular body.

The bastard was cocky enough to know that he had you salivating.And it was no lie.You got all hot and bothered when his jeans fell down, along with his boxers. It was quite a sight. His defined, muscular thighs, and they were so fucking thick.

Not to mention the sign of his cock, all hard and aroused, already leaking pre-cum. It had a pink tip, it was big, large and veiny. Sometimes you wondered how you could handle it.Simon was a big man in every way.

“Don't make me wait...” You whispered, feeling your cunt tighten just looking at him.

If it were any other man, you'd be disgusted at the sight of a full bush, but with Simon you'd get so wet, just remembering the friction you felt when he rubbed against you.

“Don't worry your pretty little head.” He said, patting your pussy, turning you forward once more.Behind you, you could feel the movements of his hand, the strokes he gave his own member, slowly and lazily, all he wanted to do was sink into you.

After a few strokes, he placed the tip of his cock at your entrance, rubbing against you. His pre-cum mixed with your fluids, making a delicious mess that he loved so much.

“Gonna put in, yeah?” he said softly, wrapping an arm around you, his hand gripping your throat and forcing you backwards.His hand was so big it could cover your entire throat, his fingers lifting your chin and forcing your gaze to his, making you even wetter somehow.

His other hand held his hard length in his hands, gently but surely guiding it into you, the tip of it entering you and stretching you, the delicious stretching you did to accommodate him.He pushed in as far as he could, as deep as he could until he was buried deep inside you.

Once he was all the way inside you, he stopped, giving you time to get used to his size as he always did.But today, you don't know what the hell came over you, you couldn't wait, your body and mind begging and pleading for him to move.

“Si....Please?Please...” You beg like a slut with no self-respect, acting exactly like one.

Fuck. To hell with everything.

When he heard you begging so nicely like that, how could he be capable of saying no?His answer was a sharp thrust, drawing out the sweetest of moans, making your eyes roll into the back of your head as he hit all your sweet spots at once.

“Tight as fuck, never changes.” He growls, using the hand that was previously holding his cock to curl around your hips.

Soon you had his fingers on your clit, making small circles, just the right size for you to see stars every time he thrust and massaged you all at once.Your already jumbled mind couldn't think of anything else, all you knew was that your pussy was being deliciously filled, in a way that only he knew how to do. No one else.

Your mouth was hanging open, letting out the most filthy moans, your arms holding on to the wall of the stall, trying to keep yourself upright as he pounded into you, hard.His balls slamming into you was such a dirty, impure sound.

You didn't even want to think what anyone would think if they heard what was happening in that stall.His cock slipped in and out of you, several times Simon took his entire length out of you, just to shove it in all at once. To have the opportunity to see your pussy swallow his cock in one go.

“You're going to get my cock wet, yeah? Are you going to be a good girl and do that?” He asks in your ear, rubbing his nose against your ear.

You tightened around him, letting out another whimper. He gave you a little grin, pulling your hair with his hand, and as soon as he was face to face with you, he kissed you hard.It was a hot kiss, with everything involved, Simon was a completely different man when he was aroused, and he showed it very well.

With the searing kiss, you felt the familiar excitement building in the pit of your stomach. Simon didn't feel much different, at least not with the sensation of your walls nestling him, keeping him comfortable and warm.

It wouldn't take him long to fill you, but you came first.Then his hand slid down to your clit, not leaving you quiet for a second, massaging hard on your swollen bud, making you go to heaven and hell at the same time.

Your gasps were swallowed up by his mouth, his tongue invading your mouth as he slammed into you. His rhythm was brutal, he moved back and forth with no mercy for you, the sloppy thrusts leaving you without a ground.

His fingers on your clit, the hot fucking kisses he was giving you right now, the way he was fucking you, all of it was leading you down one path. And you couldn't help it, there you were, cumming for him once again.You creamed on his cock, wetting his length as you moaned his name like a prayer.

“Good girl.” He purred into your lips, biting back a moan of his own as you tightened around him.

He followed right behind, cumming inside you without any warning, spurting his seed inside you, filling you up.Your legs went wobbly and you almost lost your balance, but he was quick to hold you up, giving you all the support you needed.

“You did good, sweet girl... So good.” He whispers tenderly, kissing you all over your face.

It was so domestic, him whispering and reassuring you softly, saying sweet nothings to you. It would be cute if you didn't have your cunt dripping with his cum, making his eyes darken every time he looked down.

The minutes seemed to pass slowly as the two of you stood like that, holding each other, relaxing as the high subsided.

And you held back so as not to say anything you'd regret later, and he bit his lip so as not to let out a simple, but true 'I love you'.But nothing lasts forever, and you knew you were going to have to leave.

He didn't want to be a jerk, and he wasn't going to leave you alone after having sex with you. That would be completely stupid. But it caused Simon to change from water to wine.

So he helped you clean up and put your clothes back on, waiting for you to say goodbye to your friends so he could take you home. At this point it was every person for themselves, Simon was clearly trying to keep his distance, and he was succeeding.However much it hurt.

The ride to your apartment was silent, nothing but the sound of his motorcycle going back and forth in the city, it was boring, but at least he was with you.

He was even a gentleman, taking you to the door of your apartment, hoping that you were inside, safe and sound. As you should have been.

“Aren't you coming in?” You ask quietly, looking at him almost shyly.

There was no pride in you that was greater than the desire to spend a night with him. Hugging each other, holding each other as if it were the last time.

He looked at you, those dead eyes that carried so many emotions at that moment. But he wasn't going to weaken, not now, no matter how much his heart begged him to accept the offer.

“I just came to bring you home.” He repeated, his fingers itching to caress your cheeks, cup your face and shower you with kisses.But he couldn't.

And that hurt more than any bullet.

He doesn't give you a chance to say anything, he just walks away and takes one last look at you over his shoulder.In the blink of an eye he was already in the elevator, leaving once again.

After that you knew for sure that Simon was an incognito, but something was wrong. He wouldn't act like that, it wasn't like him.

Maybe he'd really had enough of you, and you're too proud to admit defeat. But if he's got something, you'll find out.Even if it means pestering his work colleagues.

But really, not that Simon has noticed, but you're sure he wouldn't do much without his wallet for long.

Oh, and you kind of took it as an excuse to have something to see him.

He'd probably be on your doorstep the next day.

[allkordelia]

Keep Me Near Your Heart XVI

Jaenara stood fidgeting as she waited outside the front door with her husband, enith and  ser krey were behind her while daeron was on her other side and aemond was holding her hand next to her.

Today was the day, her family was arriving soon to celebrate the birth of her child. Jaenara was anxious and excited, her emotions has been all over the place as she and enith with a little help from Alicent put everything together to welcome home her family. She been worrying non stop, she started praying and hopes that her husband and brothers wouldn't get into another fight like the last time they seen each other. That's the last thing she needs, another reason for a bigger rift to come between our families.

The sound of horses and carriage pulled jaenara out of her thought, she pulled her teeth between her lips, she clench and unclench her fist feeling suddenly scared. A gentle brush against her back made her swallow, soon another brush against her vacant hand, she didn't look down or turn to know who was doing it. Jaenara felt herself feeling little bit better with Krey close to her, as the days go by her belly becomes bigger and her mind starts to get stuck on one thing as well as her body.

She knows she was the one to break it off with Ser Krey for the safety of their child, but she felt a tinge of gulit when she started up her affair with him again. She didn't feel gulity for cheating on Aemond, no but she did feel a bit bad just because they got to a point in their relationship that they can be friends...for now anyways, the reason  she felt gulity was because she didn't feel like she deserve him. She was worn and ruin, while he was still this pure and kind soul, she didn't think she deserve a man like Krey. He didn't deserve a woman like her, she felt like she was only using him for his love because she never got that from Aemond. She fears that the feelings she feeling for him is only temporary, shes afraid that if he dies then she end up like her mother.

Bitter and hateful. She didn't want her child to go through what she did, she always promised herself she be a better mother than her own mother.

As much as she tries to stay away from him, the more she craves him. She couldn't go a day without wishing he was there next to her, talking about his day and laying next to her while they read in sweet comfortable silence. Soon, It grew worse as it spilled into her and  Aemond's time together, sex between her and her husband was only physical on her part, but ever since Krey has invaded her mind all she could imagine was Krey on top of her instead, the amount of times she had to bite down on on her fist to keep from screaming Krey's name rather than Aemond was getting her dangerously close to slipping up one day. Krey did things that made her melt in his hands, if Aemond try  half the things he did he wouldn't come close on making her feel the way Krey made her feel.

"Here they come." Enith's soft voice peirce through the air making jaenara snap out of her thoughts.

Jaenara let out a shaking breathe as she watch the single carriage make its way through the gates, a gentle squeeze came from her left, she glance at Aemond as he stood like a statue next to her. She cleared her throat and squeeze his hand back, she look ahead plastering on a  smile as she mentally prepare to face her mother and brothers after so long.

She swallow down the lump in her throat when the carriage stopped in front of them, she let go of Aemond's hand before carefully walking down the steps with him following behind.

Once the door opened, jaenara's worries slowly shifted to relief and confusion when she saw Gaela and Gaemon stepping out with their mother right behind them.

"Aunt Rhaelle?" Rhaelle looks at Jaenara taken back before a smile spread across her face.

"Sweet Jaenara."

Jaenara beams as she rush over to her aunt and wrapped her in a hug, a surprise sound came from rhaelle at the girl's sudden action. Rhaelle wrapped her arms around her neice after a second of beijg caught off guard, she gave her a good squeeze before they let go of each, jaenara took rhaelle in and she still looks the same as the last time Jaenara saw her.

"Oh, jae, look at you." Rhaelle gush as she holds the girl at arms length, "Your glowing." Rhaelle looks back up at her with a sweet smile.

Jaenara glance down shyly as she move her hand to rest on her belly.

"Thank you, auntie. Your words are too kind." Rhaelle smile back as she take in jaenara, she couldn't believe that her neice is carrying a child.

"Mama," Gaela whines pulling at her mofher's skirt, both jaenara and rhaelle turn to the little girl.

"Oh, I'm sorry, darling. I almost forgot." Rhaelle says wrapping her arm around gaela and gaemon pulling them close to her as she looks at jaenara, "We had a long ride, so the children are a bit cranky." She chuckle.

"It's fine. I had the servants ready your room before you came, so you can just go right up." Jaenara smiled kindly at the her cousins before looking at her aunt, rhaelle nod her head before patting her children's back making them walk ahead as jaenara and rhaelle follow.

"Thank you, I have no doubt the others will like to rest before dinner."

Rhaelle bow her head at Aemond and Daeron once they got at the top of the steps, before she turn her attention back to jaenara when she spoke up.

"Where is the others?" Jaenara asked as they walk inside.

"Oh, they will be here soon, some more than others. Alys and Baelon are in Maegonsæte, they will be traveling with their brothers and sister. They'll probably be here by morrow afternoon." Jaenara nodded her head listening before willing here to ask the question she been wondering since she saw rhaelle.

"And will my mother be joining us soon?" Rhaelle glance at jaenara before nodding her slowly.

"...yes, she was quite excited when she found out she was going to be a grandmother soon." Jaenara stare at her aunt knowing she was lying.

"Hmm...so happy to hear that." She said with a slight edge to her voice, rhaelle gives a timid smile as she glance at her neice, before they continue up the staircase.

「                            ⊹₊♚₊⊹                           」

Jaenara was laying on the coach, one hand rubbing her stomach while the other was being held by her lover. The rest of her family arrived just days ago, and the moment everyone was under the same roof the tension between the family has become unbearable. Every dinner or breakfast was spent quiet, jaenara announce to her cousins and brothers about being on their best behavior and the same went with rhaelle's grandchildren. She already had the long talk with Aemond about not starting anything with her brothers, even had to talk to Aegon about starting stuff just to see chaos. All jaenara wanted was a stress less few days before her baby came, she couldn't stress that enough to her aunt rhaelle how she needed everything to be cordial between everyone.

Soft lips peck the side of jaenara's head bringing her back to the present, she blinks and shift her head when she felt the same lips brush against her ear.

"What are you thinking about, my lady." Ser Krey ask making jaenara sigh.

"Nothing of importance, darling. Just my family..." she mumbled. Ser Krey hummed.

"Do you want to talk about it." Jaenara pause for a moment thinking before shaking her head.

"No...I rather not think about my family and their drama." She said moving to look up at her knight with a small smile, "What I would rather do is have you make me forget," Ser Krey smirks down at her with as she gives him a knowing look, "Do you think you can do that for me, my love." She purred making Ser Krey smile widen.

"For you princess, yes." He said low before he lean down slowly to press his lips to hers.

Jaenara smiled into the kiss, ser krey shift his body on the coach so he could be laying on his side with Jaenara against the cushions. Jaenara moan as Krey swipe his tongue against her bottom lip before biting it gently, jaenara  hook her leg over Krey's hip bringing him closer as they kiss and caress each other. Jaenara whimper when Krey's hand found its way under her gown and his fingers brush against her thigh as they slowly ascend.

A knock at the door made the two pull away quickly, they look at each other with confuse and worried looks. Jaenara had a ritual ever since she moved into her new chamber, first she get ready and visit the orphans in the morning, spend a hour or two there before having agonizing tea with alicent and her ladies in waiting  in the garden, after that she spend some time with either Aemond in the library or Helaena in her chambers. But, ever since she announced she was pregnant, Aemond hadn't allow her alone time in months, he was always there, waiting and watching her like a hawk. It was beginning to get frustrating and suffocating, it wasn't until the arrival of her family did he take a step back and give her some space.

She guessed since her female cousins and aunt was always around, Aemond felt reassure about omy wellbeing, but jaenara didn't feel the same with her family now living under one roof it was even harder for her to make time for herself. It was Krey's idea to meet in her old chamber when she had a chance of freedom, they would spend a few minute alone neither talking about their day or the baby or just lay in each other others.

The banging made Jaenara flinch as she snap back into the present, she sits up and moves over Krey, she look over her shoulder and put her finger to her lip before going to the door.

"Mother." Jaenara said shock once she came face to face with her mother, Rhaenyra smiled at her daughter, "What are you doing here? D-Did Aunt Rhaelle send you to come get me?" Jaenara asked as she kept the door slightly ajar, her body was blocking the view to the sitting area and the rest of the room.

Rhaenyra let out a soft hummed, "No, your Aunt didn't send me, I just wanted to see how you are. We havent spoken since I arrived, my child." Rhaenyra pouts as she move her hands to fold over her stomach, "It feels like you are avoiding me, my little seastar." A look of unease spread across jaenara's feature at her mother's little nickname, never in her entire life did she ever hear her mother call her out of her name that wasn't pleasant.

"Ummm..." Jaenara didn't know what to saw to her mother.

"Maybe, this is good time as any to catch up," Her mother hand shot up to open the door wider, but jaenara was quick to snap out of her shock and keep it firmly in place.

"Can this not wait, mother." Rhaenyra look at her daughter with a tilt in her head and narrow eyes, "...I'm just really want to be alone right now, before I have to go back out there and listen to everyone talk about the baby--"

"Do you think I got a moment of peace when you and your brothers were born, jaenara" The young princess clasp her mouth shut as she stare at her mother dumbfounded, "No. I had to take care of you all without complaint because that is what a mother suppose to do‐‐"

"But, mother--"

"Do not interrupted me, Jaenara!" The future queen snapped, a edge in her voice sent jaenara back making her purse her lips and dip her chin, Rhaenyra huffed, "It seems like your time here have made you forget your manners," Rhaenyra shook her head with hint if annoyance.

"Sorry, mother." Jaenara says quiet. 

"Do not fret about it, you know how I hate when you fret." Jaenara swallow and nodded her head, Rhaenyra cleared her voice, "So, can I come in, maybe we can talk over some tea." Jaenara looked at her mother slightly alarm and fearful as Krey was still in the room.

"Uh, maybe we can have some tea outside, it a beautiful day out." Jaenara suggested.

"Too hot for my liking." She dismissed.

Jaenara was too slow to stop her as her mother push passed her and the door, "Mother, wait!" Jaenara nearly shouted turning around only to be meet with a empty room, she furrow her brows as she glance around for Krey but he was no where to be seen.

"What has gotten into you, Jaenara." Rhaenyra says, jaenara glance at the chamber door to see it ajar, "Jaenara, I am speaking to you." Her mother scolded, jaenara look back to her mother to see her with a raise brow.

"I-I'm sorry I just..." Jaenara glance over to the door before back at her mother, "I'm sorry mother...the baby is making me lose all my sense." Jaenara reply with a weak chuckle, rhaenyra narrow her eyes at her again before humming and turning on her heels.

"So, father gave you the solar...how long did you live here?" Her mother ask as she looks around, Jaenara steps away from the door as she watch her mother nervously.

"Almost a year." Rhaenyra hummed again before looking at her.

"It's quite a place, why did you leave." Rhaenyra asked curious, jaenara move her hands to her stomach feeling suddenly sad.

"After the lost of my daughter it was...too painful to stay." Jaenara said honestly, the whole family already knew no thanks to Alicent slipped tongue.

"Hmmm." Rhaenyra let out the sound before glancing away from her daughter, "Is that you old chambers." She ask as she walk towards the double doors, jaenara was quick to move and plant her selling front keeping her mother from going inside.

"Yes, it is. Mother, why don't we sit down. I can call on a servant to bring us tea and we can finally catch like you wanted." Jaenara babbled as her hand went to the handle and kept the door closed, Rhaenyra gives her daughter a look that made jaenara swallow and shrink.

"If you don't want my company, jaenara. You can just say that..." Jaenara mouth fall open in shock.

"M-Mother that is not what this is--" Jaenara started.

"Don't try to spare my feelings, child. I know when I am not wanted." Rhaenyra spat making jaenara drop her shoulders with a look.

"I'm not, mommy. I just...it's the room it brings back too many bad memories, let's just go back to my chamber and talk." Rhaenyra eye her daughter as jaenara stare at her with pleading eyes.

"...fine." Jaenara let out a breathe once her mother back was turn, she step away from the door and follow her mother.

They weren't five steps from the door when they heard a clatter from the room, Jaenara was ahead as her mother was just a step behind her.

"What was that." Rhaenyra ask as she stop and turn to look at the double doors.

"It's probably nothing–" Rhaenyra didn't wait for her daughter to finish as she stalk over to the door.

Jaenara was right behind but she wasn't fast enough as her mother threw open the doors, Jaenara stop in the threshold to see her mother inside the room looking at Krey as he stood looking at her in a mixture of shock and fear.

"Mother." Jaenara called softly scared of what her mother next move will be, "M-Mother." She called again with a trembling voice, Rhaenyra slowly turn to look at her daughter, no emotions were present as she stare at Jaenara.

Jaenara move from the doorway with a trembling form, "Mommy, I-I can explain...if you just let me–" Rhaenyra didn't say a word as she walk towards her daughter and  swung her hand to slap her daughter's cheek, Jaenara let out a painful yelp as the slap made her head turn.

Jaenara's hand flew up to hold her throbbing check, she look at her mother with tears in her eyes as her mother look back at her with a look of anger.

"I expected more from you, jaenara." Rhaenyra chided glaring, "...you disgust me and I will be sure to tell your aunt about this...amour..." She huff moving her hand, jaenara couldn't do anything but watch with fallen tears, "Your father would be disappointed in how you turn out if he was still alive." Jaenara dip her shaking chin as she look down in shame.

"...I'm sorry," Jaenara whispered.

Rhaenyra shook her head with a eyeroll and step around her daughter, Jaenara sniffle as she lean against the wall, she covered her mouth once the door to the solar slam behind her mother leaving the two lovers in a air of concern and fear.

「                            ⊹₊♚₊⊹                           」

The dinning hall was lively as my family talk to one another, it was surprising and I was happy to see that cousins who despised each other were having a civil conversation. For once it was nice to see us being a family rather than ill mannered strangers, even Aegon and Aemond are getting along, and what made it better was that it was a private dinner for only family only servants and two guards were there.

I smile at Alys as she talk about her adventures in Essos, I lean on my hand fascinated with her stories, I was so happy that she got to voyage the world. It was her dream and she was living it, even through there was a small piece of me that was envious of her freedom, but my love for her out weigh that. I had long come to terms about my new life here with Aemond, sad as it may seems, but I couldn't hold on to that anger from the past. I will always remember what he put me through, but I won't allow that to control my future with my child.

I move my thumb to rub the back of Aemond's hand, if I want my child to grow up with a loving father, I must focus on being the wife aemond thinks I been being. I glance over at my mother who was eating in silence between lucerys and jacerys, it been days since my mother discovered my affair, I was ashame of myself and I cried for days in fear that she tell my aunt and uncle. I already had one mother who was disappointed, i couldn't imagine losing rhaelle of all people just because I couldn't control my urges.

I ended my affair with Krey once again three days after the incident, and it hurt just as hard like the first time. I will always love Addam and he will always love me, and doing this will protect our child. I did the right thing, didn't I?

"Jaenara..." Aemond called softly catching my attention just as Alyaena got her attention pulled to Maekar, Aemond lean in making me do the same as he whispered in my ear, "...have I told you how absolutely gorgeous you look tonight." I smiled bashfully and pull back at bit to look at him, he stare at me with a look that would have knock the air out of me in the beginning of our marriage.

I hate to admit it but these pass few weeks, Aemond has become different, his not the same man from few months ago, he smiles more, he laughs more, he even told me a joke that wasn't even funny but it did make me smile. I love Aemond not in the way I love Krey but I do love him and care for him now, it's like the man who lost his eye was gone and the boy who I imagine marrying when I was a little girl finally came back and I don't want him to go away.

"Yes, you have." I replied back making us share a smile.

"Well, I'll say it again, you look absolutely gorgeous tonight, my love." He purred moving his hand to settle on my swelling belly, I look down and place my hand on top before looking at him with a sly smile.

"Such kind words, husband." I move my other hand to his thigh, "Maybe later on tonight I can give you a sweet treat for being such a good boy these passed couple of days..." I move my hand up before giving him a squeeze, he let out a shudder breathe as he watch me, "...would you like that, darling?" I leaned close to whisper in his ear with a sultry tone.

A soft low moan came from him when I squeeze him again, "Why wait when we can leave right now, I doubt anyone would care." I pulled back with a amuse smile, his eye swirl with lust making me bite my lip.

"What would you mother think, husband. Leaving so soon...we havent even gotten our desert yet." I smirk.

Aemond gave a playful eyeroll, he lean in close again to brush his nose along my jaw, "My mother has your aunt to distract her..." he whispered before pressing a gentle kiss near my ear making me smile, "...and besides I rather have you than any desert that comes out." He cooed before kissing a spot that made me giggle, Aemond pulled back to look at me.

"Fine but will have to deal with your mother in the morning," I said, he nods his head.

Deal, but let's wait a few minutes,"

I nod my head with a 'okay' Aemond smiles and leans back in his seat his hand still on me, I slowly slide my hand from his thigh and look at my plate. I glance around the table as I take in the smiles and laughter, I look at my grandfather as he talks to his brother something I never seen in my life. He looks so happy as he speaks to him, it seems everyone is having a good time. I move my eyed away from them to look across the table, my heart leap at the cold eyes of Jace, I averted my eyes quickly confuse and a little bit concern at the way he was glaring at me.

"...so have you decided on any names." I snap out of my thoughts and turn to Luke.

"I'm sorry?" I ask not truely catching what he was asking.

"For the baby. Have you decided on what you are going to name them." I let out a small 'oh' and glance around to see the others pausing their conversation to look at me.

"Um, no, we are still between two names if it's a boy but we did decide if it's a girl we name her after our great grandmother, Alysanne." Their was looks of approval around the table, some saying it was great idea and a beautiful way of honoring the late monarch.

"And if it's a boy." Jace ask with a edge to his tone making me look at him.

"Well, Aemond likes the idea of naming him Maegor..." I said looking at the others, the elder relative looked a bit unsure or just not too keen on the name while my cousins looked rather happy.

"Finally, someone in this family has the balls to name a child with such a fierce name." Ronas says causing his brother next to him to nod in agreement.

"Let's just pray that he doesn't end up like him, hmm." Balaegor comment looking at his cousin before looking down the table at us.

"My son will have what maegor the cruel lacks, a loving father." Aemond states before taking his goblet.

"Mmhmm, I couldn't say it better myself, my boy." Viserys spoke weakly making Aemond tense his jaw, I patted his hand calming him down, "I am happy that we all can come to together again to celebrate and witness another member to be added in our line, and I thank the gods every night for keeping me here so i can meet my great grandchild." My grandfather moving words made everyone smile and look at each other grateful, I look at my grandsire with a small smile slightly moved by his words.

Even though, Viserys has neglected his younger children and me for years, I have notice he is slowly coming around in trying to mend those relationships. He started spending some time with Helaena and her twins, whenever I go for a walk I would see them in the garden just sitting and watching the children play with the nanny. I heard from Enith that Viserys has also been visiting Aegon some days, i don't know what they talk about but i know that Aemond is not fond of his father finally taking the initiative to act like a father after so many years of neglect.

He told me how uncomfortable he was of the fact that he and his father share so many common interests, Aemond didn't want an relationship with his father, that time has passed he said to me once. But, he couldn't just ignore the monarch since he was still his father and the king, so he played along ro his father's delusion.

"That's beautiful, father." My mother said with a small smile, Viserys gives a weak smile in return at his eldest, "We should make a toast to Maegor." Rhaenyra raise her cup, but before anyone could Aemond spoke up.

"Actually," Aemond slide his chair back making me and everyone else at the table look at him as he stand holding hid cup while still holding my hand, "As much as I love to name my firstborn, Maegor, I believe my son's name should honor my wife's late father, Laenor." I look up at Aemond in surprise staring at him with wide eyes, "So, let's raise our glass to my future son, Laenor Targaryen." He held his glass up as everyone toast to my unborn son, my eyes remain on Aemond.

He took a seat and turn to me, I couldn't help but smile at him with watery eyes.

"Thank you," I said low once everyone went back to conversing with one another, Aemond smile not saying anything and just kiss me making me kiss him back.

We pulled back smiling at each other, as I look at him I realize maybe I can give him another chance. Make this work between us and get a happy ending out of it, it will be hard getting over Ser Krey but I know I must let go like I said before for myself safety and his own.

"...This is ridiculous." Jacerys mutter but I heard him and so did Aemond making us look at him as he glare at his plate.

Aemond turn in his seat making me look at him, I grab his hand signaling him not to engage.

"Is there a probelm, nephew." Aemond ask calmly making Jace snap his eyes up towards him, he glance at me before tossing his folk on his plate making it make a loud clank catching others attention.

"Yes, I do have a problem, uncle." He said tersely, my mother look worried at her son, before leaning to whisper to him only for him to hold his hand up to silence her as he stare at me, "Are you seriously thinking on naming your son after father?" He ask, I nod my head.

"Of course." I said without hesitation, but that seem like the wrong thing to say as Jace scowl and balled up his hands.

"You can't." He grits through his teeth making me frown confuse.

"Why,"

Jace glance around the table as everyone watch us, he looks back at me with a look that I couldn't place and blurted out the last thing I expected.

"Because I do not want our father's memory going to a bastard." Jace said codly, it felt the whole room went quiet at his words, I stare at him shock and hurt before glancing at my mother who avoided looking at me.

I brought my attention back to Aemond as he quickly got up from his chair and slam his hands on the table.

"My son is no bastard, so you better be careful what you say next, boy." Aemond seethe out making me stand and grab his arm.

"Aemond, just forget let's just go to our chamber," Aemond look at me upset.

"But, he–" I shook my head and cut him off.

"My brother is obviously drunk." I look pointly at jacerys as he leans back in his seat with his cup to his chest, I look at my husband and pleaded with him with a soft voice to let it go.

Aemond glance at jacerys with a glare before looking at me, he nodded his head with a clench jaw making me rub his arm and look at the others.

"Thank you for dinner, Alicent." I said looking at her, she smile but her eyes held some something that ignore, "I wish you all a goodnight," I held Aemond's arm and we step away from the table, it was still silent as we walk away.

"Don't forget to kiss Ser Krey goodnight as well, sister. I'm sure his waiting for you in your old chambers right now." My heart stop just as Aemond did, my blood ran cold and I look at Aemond as he stare ahead.

"Jacerys! That's enough." My mother snap.

"What? It's not a big secret, mother. Everyone knows already." I turn around to look at Jacerys as he look smugly at me, "Just like everyone knows about Aemond's whore in Harrenhal." I took a quick inhale at the mention of rivers.

"Your ass you know that, jace." Alyaena says, Jace shrug his shoulder uncaring and took a sip out of his cup.

"So, it's true...interesting." Ronas says looking at Aemond impress look.

"That's enough!" Rhaelle snap catching everyone attention expect Aemon as he yet to say or do anything, "This night has turn sour, its best everyone goes to bed." She commanded.

"But, it's not even the hour of the bat, mother." Corwyn complains drunkley, "And besides who cares, it's not like anyone at this table is a saint."

"Speak for yourself, brother." Alicent spat, corywn looks at his sister with a look.

"Now, now, alicent, I'm very drunk and the last thing you want right now is to be on my bad side." Corwyn threaten lightly making the queen purse her lips angrily.

"Oh, shut up!" Baelor said before a all out quarrel broke out.

I shook my head turning away from the drama and the bickering to see Aemond walk away from me, I call out his name. But, he didn't stop as he left through the doors, I move to go after him only to stop when jacerys open his damn mouth again.

"Look at that the perfect couple is not so perfect after all, who knew." He said dry as I clench my jaw and turn sharply on my heel.

"What is wrong with you." I snap loudly making the others go quiet, "Why would you do that, we were having a great time, why would you ruin the evening." I walk back to the table with each word I said getting angry.

"I just wanted to show the family what a traitor and fraud you are, sister." My twist into a scowl at his words as a mixture of anger and confuse swirl in me, "...parading around here like some happy couple, you two are so delusional that it was just sad."

"Your an asshole." I snap but all jacerys did was smirk and chuckle, "And the reason you did this is because your the real miserable one here, poor boy got his ego bruise because his betrothed didn't want to marry him." Jacerys's smile twisted into an angry frown.

"That's enough you two," My mother said in her firm voice, "Jaenara, apologize to your brother this instant." I look at her in disbelief as she look at me, I glance at jacerys as he sneer looking from his mother to me.

I never understand how we got here, why my brother was this way, back then when we were children he use to be my bestfriend. He would always carrying me on his back when we go exploring in godswood, whenever I hurt myself he would kiss my wound and make it better, he told long that he would always protect me and now here he is ruining everything. And mother is letting him.

"Jaenara–"

"No!" I snap looking at her, my mother gape at me taken back, "I'm not apologizing to that peice of shit," I glare at jacerys as he did the same.

"I am your mother and you do–" I let out a harsh laugh making her words get caught in her throat, I look at her with so much anger and hatred that I been holding in for ten years.

"You have never been a mother to me, and I am tired of you pretending like you are..." Rhaenyra stood frozen making me continue, "...all I ever done was be a good daughter, and yet nothing I do was enough for you. But, yet I love even when you were cruel to me and maybe thats a good thing because it make it so easy to say this next part, mother." Rhaenyra look at me with mix emotions, "I hate you and I never ever want to see you again, you will never met my son, so I hope your happy." I turn away from her to jacerys as he look at me with neutral look.

"What? Gonna say you hate me, too." He said without inch of care in his voice, I shook my head at him, and took another step closer to the table.

"No, because we shared too many good memories together, brother." He squint his eyes at me with unreadable expression, "I don't know what I did to make you hate me, you're my big brother. I loved you, I defended you..." I let out a exasperated chuckle, picking up Aemond's goblet,"...I lost half of my fucking memories for you, and all I can really say to you is go fuck yourself." I threw the crimson liquid into his face making him splutter

I threw the cup on the ground and turn walking away, I held my stomach as I quickly left the hall to find Aemond.

[tornadotree]

Whether done intentionally or not, I like how the ways of Rida and Jodie trying to help Cam just allowed him to push them away whereas Siobhans allowed him to feel safe talking to her so much so he went towards her rather than pushed her away.

Jodie and Rida are worried about him, but they comment on his state in a way that I feel makes him defensive. Jodie sarcastically asks if he has a busy day ahead. Rida comments on it not being normal to watch so much daytime telly.

Jodie states "Look at the state of you," she says that he's "wallowing," that "it's been weeks since baby Chloe died" and questions whether something else is wrong after telling him they've all lost patients and they've never acted in such a way.

"Are you sure there's nothing else?"

He's unable to tell them there is something else and he feels worse for this because his friends seem burdened by his behaviour. He's not acting his usual self and this is brought up as a nuisance for Jodie and Rida from Cam's perspective rather than a concern.

"You should come to the Schwartz later." It's what he should do. Not what he wants, but what he should do to stop being so burdensome.

Siobhan, however, validates his struggles, telling him it's okay to feel that way. She offers a way for him to open up, reassuring him that "whatever it is, it's okay."

When he pushes back, she doesn't try and pull it out of him. She takes his word and tells him that they can talk about the babys death again-no "it was weeks ago" or "we've all lost patients." She doesn't try to make him feel worse for feeling this way. She tells him that everyone is in the same boat, reinforcing the fact he is not wrong for feeling this way and he is not alone.

She asks him if he'll attend the Schwartz later, telling him he doesn't have to do it for himself, but he can do it for the team. He hates everything about himself right now but this gives him something outside of himself to focus on. She confirms with him that Schwartz have helped him in the past, so maybe this may help him feel better too.

It's not to stop being so burdensome on those around him, it's for him.

When he's approached in the pub by Teddy, Jodie and Rida, they question whether drowning his sorrows is a good idea, another critique that he'll no doubt hate himself for. They tell him "We'll put you in a taxi-" they don't allow him a choice in the matter. Jodie tells him its a problem to drink when he is "the way he is at the moment"- again something he will take as a jab due to his fragile state.

And then he breaks.

He's been crowded by people with good intentions but who are allowing him the room to push them further and further away. And he takes that room and shoves them completely out of it.

But then Siobhan arrives.

She reassures him. "This isn't like you Cam." She wants to understand and she allows him that space to reflect. She knows he's not himself, and he needs to get out of the mindset that this is just how he is.

"Something else?" She's careful not to make any assumptions. She wants him to be able to get to a point where he can open up. She allows him that space to tell her.

"Tell me if I'm wide off the mark" again allowing him that agency he was denied with Jodie and Rida to talk about his feelings. She asks if he believes Bobby. He doesn't respond and she doesn't press him to. She tells him she can see he's hurting-again validating how he's feeling.

He says, "I trusted him."

She responds, "Of course you did."

She's relieving that blame on himself ever so slightly, she's soft and gentle in her approach, and she shows him the warmth and validation that he's needed all these years.

[haecien]

Prankster — Y.JH | warnings - cursing, kissing

I found this cool prompt generator for ships! If ya want the link its here ;D

2/ 13

Link to the masterlist!

Pt. 2 Yoon Jeonghan

Yoon Jeonghan, how do I even begin to explain this prankster? You don't even know what is up his sleeve this time, he pulls the most predictable pranks but I always keep falling for them.

He always pulled some type of prank on the teachers every week, I'm surprised that he isn't suspended yet. " hey psst y/n. " I looked behind me to see jeonghan, I rolled my eyes at him and replied " Yeah? What do you need this time. "

He scratched the back of his head looking a bit embarrassed " Well... you know the scary teacher who's always on my back right? " I nodded my head " Yeah?... where are you going with this. " jeonghan took a deep breath

" Can you stick arround with me, I got introuble with her and I need to actually act like I've changed... maybe if in hang out with you more she would think I got more behaved? "

you felt sick of even having the thought of being seen arround him, but he seemed really genuine this time, he looked at you for a while with a sad expressed. You sighed and given into him " Fine, but on ONE condition. If you pull another one of your pranks again im ditching you. " he let out a slight giggle

" Can't promise that, ill try though " a sly smile spread across his face, you don't know whats wrong with you. You HATE him, but why are you getting so soft with him? Haha, love is werid isn't it?

A few weeks passed by and you realized he wasn't all THAT bad, sure he was a bit mischievous and a bit of a prankster but he was genuinly nice and made you laugh sometimes.

" Hey y/n, I got us some drinks from the cafeteria! You want one? " before I could even reply he cut me of " No? Okay ill have it all to myself! " " YOON JEONGHAN! " you flicked his forehead and grabbed the other drink from his hand " Oww! " he said playfully as you both laughed it off

" Ah, fuck I have to study for a test, Sorry I have to go " you felt a bit sad that you had to part ways so early, you grabbed onto his arm. " Isnt it Chemistry that you need to study for? I can help you. " you felt a little flustered when his eyes light up, he looked so happy and he quickly got out his notebook from his bag

" Whats taking you so long! Let's start! "

You both studied for hours, it was becoming late and your eyes became heavier and heavier by the second. You constantly kept yawning, Jeonghan asked if you wanted to stop but you insisted it was okay, " So, were done with Ionic and Molecular Compounds. Tell me whats the difference? ... " Jeonghan flipped through his notes and started to read out what he wrote

His voice sounded so calming and soft, eventually you dozed off into a deep slumber. Jeonghan got a bit startled and thought you had died on the spot but he placed you on his lap and didn't even move a single inch, he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear and looked at you with a smile on his face. He gave you a little peck on the forehead,

" Its sad that you won't be able to know what I'm about to say, the truth is. I lied about everything, I just wanted your attention to myself. "

Eventually you woke up to see you lying down on his lap, you looked up and saw that he had fallen asleep too. You were flustered and got up, God how long were you out for? You began to start cleaning up your stuff and placed them into there proper places

" Goodmorning to you angel. "

" Angel? What kind of nickname is that. " " The type of nickname that I gave to the person I like. "

"... Fuck you, Yoon Jeonghan. "

Cien rambles

I was giggling while writing this HAHAHA, our gentle sexy is up next👀 GOD this is so much fun to write i love it!!! Also wow I got 7 followers:D thank you so much❣❣

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Undergoing Restoration

Prompts:  Hi, I absolutely loved Out of Commission!  You're so amazing at Roman angst, oh my gosh.  If you would like, I would love to see a sequel to this where Logan Patton and Virgil learn to be more gentle with Roman, but no pressure at all, I love what's there already! - anon

hi! so uh i’ve been lurking and reading every last roman angst you’ve written and i figured it’s time i throw out a prompt (it’s cool if you’re not taking any at the moment).

So how about some roman angst with some creativitwins where Remus gets protective and pissed after finding out how shitty the others are towards Roman. I’ve been wanting more of that after reading part 3 of Snap.  - lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: rejection sensitive dysphoria, self-destructive behavior, self-doubt, self-esteem issues

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 8019

Nothing lasts forever, not even good things. Especially not good things. Everything comes to an end—and some would argue that’s what makes them so special, what makes you truly appreciate what you have when you have it—and everything begins again. 

Even the bad things. 

Roman sighs, rubbing his cheek against the pillow as he curls up under the blankets. He still hasn’t regained full use of his hands, not even with the help, and so he’s resigned himself to flopping around a bit just to get his head on properly before he eventually falls asleep. 

This isn’t a good night. Frankly, it never is, not when his hands keep aching and his body keeps doing its best to persuade him that he deserves to be shot for what happened earlier. Which is stupid, it’s stupid and awful and horrifying and he hates it, hates it, but he’s incapable of holding something precious in his hands and not breaking it open to see what makes it so special. 

…alright, seems he has to eliminate licorice root tea entirely if it’s going to make him this dramatic. 

Except if Thomas ever does theater again. Then he’s gonna slam a mug of that right before the performance and call it a day. 

He grumbles, turning for what feels like the eightieth time that night and settling onto the cool side of the pillow. 

What really isn’t helping is that he can’t figure out why Janus was being nice to him earlier. Remus is—Remus is his brother and he loves him, loves him so much it hurts because how could Remus love him back—except he does because despite everything Remus is good and Roman, Roman just isn’t, not like that—but Remus helps him because he loves him. 

How could someone like Janus ever love him? After all he’s done to him, because of him, how could he ever hope for anything more than begrudging tolerance?

But no, Janus was kind to him earlier. Offered him a place to sit on the couch, somewhere to stay while the world moved too fast around him, and then he—he—he held out his hands and asked for Roman’s and he helped. 

Roman tugs his arm up to look at his left hand. It flops back and forth, still getting used to the feeling of being used once more. If he concentrates, he thinks he can still feel the rough texture of Janus’s gloves against the worn and weathered skin, brushing down his palm, his fingers, everything. He can still remember how gentle Janus was, how achingly tender, and how soft and sweet he’d been at the table too, asking for the other one and caring for it silently, hidden beneath the surface where no one else could see. 

But…but why?

Does Janus want something from him again? Did he mess up too much and now he needs to be controlled? Do they need to—to condition him to get help as long as he behaves?

A spark of rage flares in his chest, sputters, and dies under the oppressive weight of the cold pit yawning once more, spreading and spreading until his hands flop lifelessly against the covers. He muffles a whine and buries his face in the familiar smell of the fabric. 

It’s cold. 

God, he wants to sink into the mattress and never have to move again. Wants to let the cold swallow him whole and just make him stay, make him not go out because he gets hurt out there, he doesn’t want to be hurt anymore. 

Especially because he knows, he knows if he ever dared breathe a word of this to someone who isn’t Remus, they’d laugh at him or scoff and say that he should be so dramatic. 

The spark crackles defiantly, straining against the cold. Do they think he chooses to be like this? That one day he woke up and decided that yes, he wants it to be so he can’t even tolerate vague feelings of rejection or disappointment without feeling like his body wants to tear him in two? That he wants it to feel as though everyone has to walk on eggshells around him because he’s so breakable, so fragile, and he can do whatever he likes because they aren’t? Do they think he’s so weak-willed and stupid that he thinks he can get away with insulting and belittling others only to cry like a baby when they so much as defend themselves?

Is that what they think?

That he’s doing this on purpose?

Don’t they understand that he hates it? He hates feeling so fragile, so breakable, so fucking stupid that he can’t so much as breathe wrong without feeling like he’s going to hurt and lose the ability to use his hands. Don’t they understand that he’s not telling them because he’s trying to make it easier? They shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him, they shouldn’t have to be so careful about what they say in the vague promise that they’re going to hurt him, he doesn’t want them to know so they won’t look at him like that. 

Like he’s breakable. Like he’s fragile. Like he’s made of finely spun glass, shattered at the slightest brush of someone else. 

Roman squeezes his eyes shut and another whine muffles itself in his throat. 

An idea springs to the front. A horrible, stupid idea that will not only not help him in the slightest, but will run the risk of Remus finding out how bad he is and coming right over to help, not let him wallow in how miserable he’s becoming. 

Yes, that’s probably a good idea, and yes, that’s what he’s supposed to do, but the lure of quick and easy hurt is too much. 

So, with useless hands and trembling legs, Roman gets out of bed and stumbles to the Imagination door, pushing it open and staggering onto an empty stage. 

The theater is silent. The seats are empty. The lights blare down with unyielding exposure. 

He stands, ready to be flayed. 

“I am incapable,” he mumbles, the words to the old poem rolling off his tongue, “of holding something in my hands and not imagining how it would break. 

I toy with paperclips until they snap, 

I bend the metal until it gives under my broken fingers

And I toss away the remains,

Reaching for the next one.

Sometimes I keep a broken piece, twist it around and around the part of my thumb

Because that is all I know how to do.”

Roman looks down at his useless hand and watches it shake. 

“To carve bits of myself and see what remains.”

Is that not what it is to create? To break yourself into smaller and smaller pieces and scatter them like seeds?

“It becomes a game

To see how long I can hold something and resist the urge to break it

I don’t want to break things but

I am good at it.”

He swallows, a lump forming in his throat as he looks up into the lights. 

“But when you have a hammer every problem looks like a nail,” he croaks, 

“I have been hammered into round holes as a square peg

Enough times to know. You do not

Fix

Something like me,

I am not meant to be flexible.”

And isn’t that just the worst irony? That Creativity cannot bend and shape itself to whatever needs suit it?

Roman swallows again, the lump building and building in his throat, until he has to spit out the next words. 

“I would make a terrible mother.”

The theater is silent. 

“Do you know how easy it is

To fuck up a child?

How easy it is to mold them, twist them, break them,

So much can be done by doing so little

Or nothing at all. 

Do not give me your children,

I will only ruin them. 

That is all I know how to do to things when I hold them for too long, I break them.

Children should not be broken and

Remade and

Broken again.

Do not give me your children, 

I don’t know how to not break myself.”

Broken hands, broken ideas, broken prince. 

“Your daughter will look at you one day,” he warbles, clutching his chest, “and ask

Am I pretty?

And you will want to grab her and shake her and say

Of course you are,

You always will be,

Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, 

But you will also want to say

No

To relieve her of the awful burden of being pretty

But it will come out of your mouth wrong.

Pretty is not the rent you pay to exist in the world as a woman.”

Roman takes a shuddering breath, his arms aching and chest heaving as he faces the relentless silence. 

“How could I justify

Bringing a child into the world

If not because I love them and want to see

A human grow

A person become

A someone?

I do not want a baby

A child 

A teenage

An adult

And to be a parent needs to want

A baby

A child

An adult

And to want each moment and stage

And to love a teenager

Even when the can’t love anything but the notion of

breaking.”

Roman looks down at his hands and turns them over, legs shaking from the effort of holding himself up. 

“Do not give me your children, 

I can’t hold something without breaking it.”

And oh, what a delicious irony that is. It goes down like spoiled milk. 

“People expect you to say sorry when you break things,” because that’s all he ever does, 

“And so I do,” and so he does,

“Sorry, I didn’t realize

Sorry, I didn’t mean to

Sorry, it was an accident

Sorry, it was just so easy.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, 

I spend my life in a state of repentance

For crimes that fall from my hands

As easily as memories fall from time.

Do not give me,

I don’t know how to have.

I only know how to say

Sorry

Once something is broken.”

And now, given the stage, given the light, given the words, the spark of rage flares up so strongly it burns through him and he whips his head up, staring accusingly at the empty seats. His tongue loosens and the next words fly from his lips like arrows. 

“But why should I apologize

When no one has apologized for making me this way?

When I have a hammer

Everything looks like a nail

When I am nail

The world is my hammer and I can only say

Sorry, sorry, sorry

As I am forced to break whatever falls on the

Wrong side of my sharp edges.

Do not give,

I don’t know,

I don’t know who broke me first

Was I made broken?

Was it a set of parents who didn’t know I was broken?

Was it a selfishness that always wanted 

But never got

And so worried itself to the point of breaking?

Was it her?”

His voice catches. No, no, he’s not supposed to blame anyone else, it’s not their fault, it’s his, he’s gone too far, he needs to stop, he—he—

“Her,” his lips say anyways, “who still breaks me even though I haven’t seen her?

Her, whose fingertips still bruise me in my sleep?

Her, who stripped every bit of flesh from my bones and

Refused to give it back?

Perhaps I am broken over her. 

Perhaps I am broken because of her. 

Perhaps she is just my ex-excuse.”

He swallows. 

“…to break.

Do not give me your children,

For I am just a broken child.”

The lights are warm. He’s sweating, panting, staggering under the weight of invisible gazes, even as he scans them frantically knowing he won’t find anyone. 

“I was not taught to love myself,” an accusation, 

“I was taught to love how useful I was

How smart

How clever

How compassionate

How compliant

How good.

I was taught to hate 

My looks

My voice

My body

My self

I was not taught to love

I was taught to

Break.

It is so painfully easy to fuck up a child.”

The theater heaves, shuddering under the force of Roman’s breathing, Roman’s pain, Roman’s existence. He’s going to break this too if he doesn’t stop. 

“It was a mistake to write this,” to say this,

“A mistake I can’t stop.

I can’t stop it.

I can’t stop it,

It won’t stop coming. 

I can’t stop it,” he gasps, grasping at his chest, scrabbling uselessly, “I can’t shut up, and before long it will hurt, it keeps hurting, it never stops hurting, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, you need to stop, you need to go, I can’t stop but you can stop reading, you have to stop, you need to go, I’m sorry but you need to stop before I—

Break

You.”

The sorry leaves his lips like a whisper. 

“Do not give,” comes torn from limp lips, 

“I can’t have.”

The shaking figure on the stage looks up and out at you. 

“are you still here?

did you stay?

why did you stay?

I told you to stop. 

I told you it was a mistake.

Just a mistake. 

sorry. 

Do not,

I can’t.

The poets lied, by the way,

(If you’re still here,)

When they said there was beauty in broken things.

There isn’t anything beautiful 

about this broken mess

And I don’t fancy having you cut your hands

And bleed trying to find it.

Beauty is not the rent I pay to break in this world. 

This isn’t perfect,

Isn’t good,

Isn’t anything other than a mess

Mess is bold,

Yes, sometimes,

But mess is mess

A mess of ruined and broken things

Sorry, I think I broke it

…do you think anyone would ever apologize for breaking me?

Broken, breaking, to break

To break again, to break apart,

To break, to have broken,

Breaking,

broke.

It hurts, it does

To break.

If you care about something,

Don’t let me hold it

If you love something,

Don’t let me touch it

If you think something is pretty,

Don’t let me break it.

And if by some magic,

You found something beautiful 

In my broken mess,

Well,

You’re

    a

            Better

    poet

            Than

I could ever be.

A broken puppet collapses onto an empty stage, its strings cut from useless hands. 

————

Virgil is worried. 

Not just because he’s Anxiety, fuck off, but because he hasn’t seen Janus or Remus around in a while and the last time he heard from Remus, he was muttering something about fourth walls and keeping everyone safe and that’s never a good thing to hear from Remus. 

It’s not a good thing to hear in general, but if Remus is worried about something, best be damned sure Virgil’s going to worry about it too. 

Anyway, the point is he hasn’t seen the two troublemakers in a while and that means they’re either planning something or something horrible has happened and they’re avoiding the fallout. 

He keeps trying to think about what happened to start the whole thing, when they started to pull away, when things first, like, became obvious. 

Luckily, Logan—who for some reason is on much better speaking terms with Remus than pretty much everyone—said that there’s no reason to worry about the Imagination. Apparently, there was just a strong burst of energy one night that pushed the boundaries a little bit, easily contained and dealt with and it’s nothing to be concerned about. 

Which is great, and Virgil likes very much that Logan has this information and he’s certain about it, but that doesn’t answer the question of where Janus and Remus are and why they’ve been so distant lately.

Now, the next person Virgil would normally ask about this stuff is Roman, but Roman’s been busy trying to work on all the ideas lately and Virgil really doesn’t want to distract him. They’re running a bit behind schedule anyway and if he gives Princey an opportunity to not do his work, he’s sure Patton and Logan will find out and do the whole ‘not mad, just disappointed’ routine. 

Fuck, he hates those.

So. Trying to find Remus and Janus on his own it is. 

He can tell by the growing sound of the chainsaw that Remus is in his room, which makes things much easier for him, and quickly conjures a pair of waterproof boots, a waterproof coat, and a pair of safety goggles. 

He’s learned not to walk into Remus’s room unprepared. 

Sure enough, a spurt of a liquid flies at him as soon as he opens the door, dodging it at the last second and wincing as it splatters all over the wall. He turns to see Remus elbow-deep in…something, holding the chainsaw and glancing up to see what the interruption is. 

“Emo!” 

“Hey, Remus.” Virgil stuffs his hands in his pockets. “What, uh, whatcha got there?”

Remus grins, reaching down and holding up a…drink? “A smoothie!”

“That’s not—y’know what? That’s on me.” He shakes his head and steps a bit closer. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure, sure, you want me to put this away?”

“…you mind?”

“Nah. Gotta wash up soon for dinner anyway.” Remus presses a button on the wall and the wall spins, taking the…let’s call it a carcass, taking the carcass away and leaving him to snap his fingers and clean up the rest of the tools. “What do you want?”

“Just, uh…haven’t seen you in a while.”

This is the Dark Side, he has to be extra careful not to summon Janus. 

“Mm, yes, I suppose that’s true,” Remus hums, walking to a large sink and beginning to scrub at his hands, “been busy.”

“Oh?” Pushing his luck, he edges closer. “What, uh, what’re you working on?”

“Oh, y’know, this and that. Kraken’s laying a new brood in the Imagination, got a bear trap to work on, all the stuff from Halloween is still trickling in so I gotta catalog that and rework some of my other shit…y’know, things.”

“Wow. Didn’t realize you had so many projects.”

Remus cackles. “Doesn’t run itself, you know!”

“Wish Roman could have some of your productivity.”

The instant it leaves his mouth Virgil knows he’s said something wrong. 

Remus pauses, glances up at him in the mirror, and slowly turns off the water. He looks over his shoulder, staring at him until Virgil starts to fidget, then looks away. 

“What does that mean?”

“Just, uh,” Virgil stammers, “y’know…I’ve never seen Roman work on so many projects at the same time, he, uh, he normally just does one at a time, so—I dunno, I thought it’d be cool if he could…y’know…”

Remus stays quiet, turning to face him and crossing his arms. He raises an eyebrow like he knows Virgil’s not doing a good job of explaining himself. 

“…y’know,” he tries, “have multiple things on the go at once? He’s been working on the same idea, for like, a month.”

“Is this the one you keep asking him to redo?”

“…yeah, think so.”

“And what makes this the only project you think he’s working on?”

Virgil frowns. “Why would he work on other things if this one’s not done yet?”

Remus suddenly glares at him like he’s being a hypocrite. The force of it makes him step back, shoulders hunching defensively. 

“What?”

“You’re right,” Remus says cooly, turning around and beginning to wash his hands again, “you shouldn’t bother Roman until he’s done with this idea for you guys. Wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“I shouldn’t—wait, who said I was going to go bother Roman?”

Remus shoots him a look over his shoulder. “You came to ask me about him, didn’t you?”

“N—“ Dark Side, Janus, don’t lie— “look, I just haven’t seen him in a while, okay?”

Remus hums. “Yeah. ‘Cause he’s working so hard on that idea for you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You see Janny?”

“…no.”

“Then that’s that.” 

The sink gets louder and Virgil knows he’s being dismissed and gets the heck out of dodge.

That was…weird. Why was Remus so mad? And what’s he doing with Roman? And what does any of this have to do with him?

Virgil leaves with more questions and no answers. 

————

Patton knows something’s up and it’s upsetting his kiddos. Logan’s been more withdrawn, Virgil won’t stop muttering, and he’d struggled to see hair or hide of Roman on most days. 

Strangely enough, it’s Janus he sees the most of, not that he doesn’t like spending time with him but even the most mundane of conversations aren’t expected from him. 

“Hey, Janus?”

“Hm?” He looks up from his book. “Yes?”

“Is…everything okay?”

Janus tilts his head and closes the book, marking his page deftly with a bookmark. “Is there a reason why it shouldn’t be?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I haven’t seen everyone around lately, that’s all.” He nods at him. “It’s mostly been you.”

Janus raises an eyebrow and holds a hand to his chest. “Well, if you were sick of my company—“

“No, no, that’s not what I mean at all!” Only when he notices Janus’s snicker does he realize he’s been had. “Oh, you slippery snake, you fooled me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, hiding a smile, “it was right there.”

Patton huffs, hiding a smile of his own, and shaking his head. “I don’t know, Janus, I just—I feel like everyone’s kind of…hiding? Did something happen?”

Janus hums. “When did you first start noticing it?”

“After that dinner, the last one we all had together, I think. It was right after that. Do you think something happened during the dinner?”

“Is there anything you can think of that fits that description?”

“Well, we didn’t make all the food we normally do ‘cause we’re running a little low in the kitchen, there was that brief little argument between Remus and Virgil, but they do that all the time, don’t they?”

“Mm.”

“And…that’s it. I don’t think anything happened.”

“So then perhaps it wasn’t the dinner.”

“But that’s when it started.” Patton closes his eyes, thinking. “Yeah, that has to be when it started because the next day Roman and Remus didn’t come to dinner and then you didn’t come either.”

Janus reclines in the chair, hand under his chin. “Did you ask Roman or Remus why they didn’t come?”

“No, but Logan said he did. He said that they were…working on something, I think.” Patton shakes his head. “Gosh, with the amount of time they say they’re spending on things, you’d think we’d see more of it, wouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t notice the way Janus’s hand curls into a fist. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Huh?”

“When you say you expect more,” Janus says, and he does notice the way Janus’s tone is a little sharper, “what exactly do you mean?”

Patton frowns. “Well…you know, maybe, like, a few more ideas? I mean, at the last meeting, the most workable idea we had was the Q&A and that’s not even that original, at least until we agreed that he’d try and come up with something along the lines of a debate instead—“

“Did you have any ideas?”

“Huh?”

“During the meeting, did you have any ideas?”

“Oh, that’s not my job.” Patton leans back against the couch. “That’s Roman’s job. He’s Creativity.”

“So you don’t come up with the ideas?”

Patton frowns. “N-no, I don’t—Janus, what’s going on?”

“You are not Creativity,” Janus says evenly, sitting up a little more, “it isn’t your job to come up with the ideas. So why would you know what that’s like?”

“…what what’s like?”

“Being the one who has to submit the ideas at the meetings.”

“I—I mean, I guess not, but what—Janus—“

“Then perhaps,” he says, standing up and taking his book with a swirl of fabric, “you should think about that a little bit more before you start asking for more.”

“Asking for—Janus, wait!”

He pauses, looking over his shoulder as Patton swallows. 

“Are…are you mad at me?”

Janus just looks at him. “Why would I be mad at you?”

And then he’s gone. 

…well, that wasn’t a no, and if the rest of this conversation has been any indication, that’s as good as a yes. 

Great. Now Patton’s got to figure out why Janus is mad at him. 

Okay. Did he do anything to Janus? No, he doesn’t think so—they’ve been on really good terms lately, they’ve been cooking together, they spend time just reading in the same room, they’ve even watched one of the movies alone when everyone else canceled. 

Did he…say something wrong? 

Patton furrows his brow. 

They—they’d been talking about everyone else. Maybe he said something then. But Janus seemed to be fine with everything until he brought up—

—until he brought up Roman. 

But why would Janus be mad at him about that?

Maybe Roman’s still holding a grudge against Janus? But they’d been doing okay—at least Patton thought they’d been doing okay—so why would bringing up Roman make Janus mad?

Maybe…maybe it’s not just Roman? He’d brought up the fact that they were running a little behind schedule and then he’d gotten upset, is that what it is?

No, that doesn’t seem right either. 

No, he’d only gotten upset once Patton had said—

Patton’s eyes widen. 

…once he said how he’d wanted more from Roman. 

How he’d been disappointed, how he’d blamed—well, not outright blamed, but heavily implied—the delays on Roman, and how he wanted Roman to do more. Ever since the meeting, they’d been—

Oh. 

The meeting. 

Just as Patton realizes why everyone’s been so distant, Virgil appears, tugging on the strings to his hoodie and looking at him with a somber expression. 

“Patton, I think we messed up.”

————

If there is one thing Logan truly cannot abide, it is an unanswered question to an unsolved problem. 

The question currently occupying the majority of his attention is why Roman has been so hard to get a hold of. 

He has not missed any of the planned meetings, no, and he has not failed to submit a draft of an idea once—granted, they have not all been spectacular or even marked improvements, but they have been submitted—but other than that, it has been exceedingly difficult to speak with him. 

The few times he’s tried to knock on his door, it’s either been to a sign that says that Roman is working and is not to be disturbed—which he respects entirely—or that he’s not in at the moment. He’s caught sight of him with Remus—or Janus, surprisingly enough—but the two of them have always been in transit to the Imagination or entering Remus’s room. 

He has barely made any appearances at dinner, which are always understated or vague when he does, and it’s been…quiet. 

Logan doesn’t mind the quiet, but he does mind when it comes at the expense of Roman. 

With this in mind, after another meeting, he retreats to his room to gather his thoughts and set aside all of his notebooks and paper and decides to go and speak to Roman. He’s agreed to come to dinner tonight—a relief, truly, he hasn’t seen evidence of Roman eating enough lately—and perhaps he can speak to him beforehand. 

At the very least to reassure himself that everything is okay. 

He goes to Roman’s room, prepared to knock, when he sees the door is slightly ajar. HE frowns, walking closer, knocking anyway and waiting for a response. 

None comes. 

“Roman?” When there’s still no voice, he eases it open gingerly, only to see an empty room. “Roman?”

Still nothing, and he closes the door carefully, turning and going to see if he’s perhaps in the Dark Side’s living room. He’d sunk out with Remus, after all, it wasn’t out of the question that the two of them were there. 

He walks into the living room, intent on calling out for one of the twins, only to stop abruptly when he sees Roman sitting on the couch. 

“Ah, Roman. There you are.”

Roman doesn’t respond, doesn’t look up, does not so much as move. Logan frowns, opening his mouth to chastise him for it, only to pause. 

Roman isn’t moving. Not just in reaction to Logan’s arrival, but…not at all. His hands lie limply in his lap, his head is bowed so he’s staring at a spot on the floor, and he scarcely looks as if he’s breathing. 

“…Roman?” Logan leans to see if he can see Roman’s eyes flicker at all. They don’t. “Roman, are you okay?”

Nothing. Of course there isn’t anything. It follows that if Roman didn’t react to him before, he couldn’t react now. With this in mind, Logan steps forward to see if he can provide any additional assistance—

—and startles quite terribly when Virgil appears next to him. 

“Virgil!”

“Uh, hey.”

“Don’t do that,” he sighs, adjusting his glasses, “you startled me.”

“Didn’t mean to.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Someone summoned me.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t.”

“No, I mean—someone got scared and I got summoned.” 

Logan frowns. “Someone got scared?”

“Yeah, do you know what—“ Virgil’s head finally turns and he notices Roman. He freezes. Then his shoulders slowly relax. “…oh.”

“‘Oh?’ What does ‘oh’ mean?”

“Roman’s scared, L,” Virgil says, suddenly speaking softly, “that’s why I got summoned.”

“Yes, I gathered, does that mean you know what’s wrong with him?”

Virgil winces. “Not in so many words. Hey, hey, don’t,” he says, quickly holding out a hand when Logan moves to get closer, “you’re gonna scare him more.”

“Does he think I’m going to hurt him?” 

“I don’t know, L, I—just don’t get closer right now.”

“Virgil, he’s almost catatonic, I don’t—“

“Yeah, he’s also right there and can hear us so just…shh for a moment, okay?”

Logan hasn’t taken his eyes off of Roman. “But he’s hurting,” he says weakly. 

“I know.”

“…what do we do?”

Virgil sighs. “We call Remus, I think.”

“Remus?”

“Yeah. I’m just gonna summon him.”

Before Logan can say anything, Virgil does indeed reach out and summon Remus, who promptly looks around at the situation and levels a glare at them so powerful it makes them take a step back. 

“Don’t look at me,” Virgil defends, hands raising, “I got summoned when Roman got scared and I’ve just been standing here.”

Remus’s glare turns to Logan who finds himself wanting to raise his hands too. “I simply wanted to find Roman after the meeting, I came in here and I found him like this. I was only here a moment longer than Virgil.”

Remus glances around, likely waiting for Janus to stride from the shadows, and when no one else appears, gives them one last look that warns them to stay back before crouching down in front of Roman. 

“Hey, Roro,” he murmurs in a voice so achingly tender it makes Logan’s chest lurch, “you here with me?”

Logan can’t see what’s happening but Roman must give some indication because Remus’s shoulders relax a fraction. 

“Okay. That’s good, Roro. Can we do the blinks if I ask you things? One for yes, two for no, three for don’t know?”

Roman must blink. 

“Good, good job, Roro. Can you show me a no? Okay, what about an I don’t know? Okay, thank you. That’s good, Roro, you’re doing real good.”

Virgil shuffles closer to Logan as if to make themselves a smaller point of focus in the room. Logan turns a bit toward him, eyes still fixed on the twins. 

“Are you in pain?” A pause. “Okay, is it worse than last time?”

Roman’s in pain? How long has he been hurting? What was ‘last time?’

“Okay. Can you breathe okay?”

Logan has to restrain himself from stepping forward, seized by the idea that Roman’s unable to breathe. 

“You can? Okay, that’s good, Roro.” 

“What the fuck,” Virgil whispers beside him, and Logan finds himself echoing that sentiment. 

“Did something happen during the meeting?”

Another pause, and then Janus appears, taking one look around before his eyes fix on Logan and Virgil. They both raise their hands, ready to defend themselves, when Remus flaps a hand at Janus. Janus makes to step forward but Virgil holds a hand out. 

“He’s really scared, J, don’t—don’t get closer.”

“Can I come over for just a second, sweetie?” Even Janus’s voice is remarkably soft. “Just to hug you?”

Remus watches Roman carefully. “Yeah, Janny, but make it quick.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

Sure enough, Janus walks over and carefully wraps an arm around Roman’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before pulling away. He walks over to Virgil and Logan and fixes them with a stern look, before turning and putting himself between them and the brothers. 

It stings a little. 

“Do you want them to leave?” A pause, then Remus tilts his head. “Was that a ‘yes, but no?’ Okay, do you want some of them to leave? Okay. Do you want Janus to leave?”

A pause. 

“Okay. Do you want Virgil to leave?”

Another pause, then Remus glances up and jerks his head. Virgil tips a two-fingered salute. “See you.”

“He’s gone, Roro,” Remus murmurs as Virgil sinks out, “what about Logan? Do you want Logan to leave?”

A longer pause, Logan’s chest growing heavier, before Remus breathes out slowly and nods.

“Okay, Logan will stay.”

Roman asked for me to stay. He wants me to stay. Logan lets out a breath he wasn’t sure he was holding. 

“Do you want them to come closer? Yeah? Okay.” Remus glances up and beckons them over, Janus leading the way as Logan crouches on the floor near Remus. 

Oh. Oh, Roman’s crying. Oh, dear. 

“Is this alright,” he asks, voice a tad hoarser than he expected, “can I stay here?”

Roman blinks once. Once is a yes. 

“Thank you.”

“Do you need to crash, sweetie,” Janus asks gently, “would that help?”

He blinks again and Remus nods. 

“Do you want help lying down? Or to go somewhere more comfortable?”

“One question at a time, Snakey.”

“Right, my apologies. Would you like to go somewhere else?”

“That’s a ‘no.’”

“Would you like to lie down?”

“That’s a yes. Easy does it, hey, hey, Roro, shh, it’s okay…”

Logan feels like an intruder here, watching an intimate moment that isn’t for him as Remus and Janus carefully lie Roman down on his back, his head pillowed in Janus’s lap, arms and legs positioned so they won’t fall asleep as Janus runs a hand through his hair. 

“Hi, sweetie,” he murmurs, “this okay?”

Roman blinks. 

“Good. Do you want to close your eyes and rest for a bit while we talk with Logan?” He smiles, still stroking Roman’s hair. “Yeah? Alright, sweetie, you go on ahead. We’re right here.”

Logan watches them for a moment longer, still taken aback at the intimacy, before Remus elbows him and he turns, facing the glare once more. 

“What did you come here for?”

“I wanted to speak with Roman.”

“What for?”

“I—I wanted to see if he was alright,” he says lamely, the words sounding weak even to his own ears, “he’s…I haven’t had the chance to speak to him as much lately.”

“So?”

Janus hisses lightly in warning as Logan opens his mouth. “I…I missed him.”

“You missed him.” Remus stares at him. “You tear down every idea he submits, demand he does more work, and you miss him?”

Logan splutters, indignantly drawing himself up, when Janus murmurs Remus’s name softly and Remus quiets, reaching out and carefully taking one of Roman’s limp hands in his. He starts to massage it carefully, almost like he’s trying to encourage life back into it. 

“…Remus,” Logan starts warily, “what’s…what’s going on with Roman?”

“He’s crashed.”

“’Crashed?’”

“Overwhelmed. Unable to function. In need of a reset.” Remus glares. “Crashed.”

“From what?”

“You.”

“M-me?” Logan looks up at Janus who stares back at him. “I did this?”

“Not just you, but yes. You did this.”

“What—how—I didn’t—“ Logan looks back at Roman’s limp form— “h-how did I do this?”

“Are you familiar with RSD?”

“…Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy?”

“Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.”

Logan frowns. “I believe I’ve heard the term before, but…I cannot say I am familiar with the diagnosis.”

“The gist of it is that people who have it process social rejection or other emotional pains in the same part of the brain as physical pain.” Janus raises an eyebrow. “In other words, being disappointing or being rejected physically hurts them.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

“And Roman’s the Ego,” Remus adds, “which means that if he’s starved of affection or positive reinforcement, he’s weaker and they get worse the more they happen.”

They…they did do this to Roman. He did this to Roman. 

“Does this happen after every meeting?”

“It’s not always this bad,” Remus says, “but yes. Something happens in almost every meeting because you bastards are not nice.”

“Remus,” Janus says, even though the chide sounds halfhearted, “that’s not helpful.”

“It’s true.”

When Janus doesn’t deny it, Logan looks back at Roman. Roman, who looks so small and limp and scared in Janus’s lap, his eyes still closed, his cheeks still damp. 

“…I never meant to hurt him,” he mumbles, “I…I didn’t know.”

“Well, you did. Whether or not you knew doesn’t matter. You hurt him. You really hurt him.”

Logan can’t stop staring at Roman. “Is…is he going to be alright?”

“Not anytime soon, not from this, but yeah. He’s gonna be okay.”

Logan sags in relief but Remus glares at him again. 

“And if you think we’re anywhere near ready to let you guys close to him again, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“C-can I stay,” Logan asks quickly, “please? I want…I want to help.”

Another long lull, during which both Janus and Remus stare at him, then at each other, before Remus takes a deep breath. 

“You can stay if you’re willing to listen.”

“Yes,” Logan says in a rush, “anything.”

————

Patton can’t find anyone. 

He’s checked the living room, checked the Imagination, checked their rooms, checked the living room again to make sure none of them wandered in while he was looking, and he still can’t find them. 

He’s getting nervous enough to just summon one of them when Virgil walks into the room and he all but flies at him. 

“Virgil! There you are, I can’t find anyone, do you know what’s—“

“Slow down, Pop Star,” Virgil says, his voice low, “come sit.”

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Virgil sighs, waiting for Patton to sit down, before he scrubs a hand over his face and looks up at him. “Roman’s not alright.”

Roman? No, Roman was fine a few minutes ago, he was in the meeting, he was talking, he was— “What happened to Roman?”

“I don’t know, Pat, but it’s…whatever it is, it’s not good and it’s been happening for a while.”

“Can we go to him?”

Virgil shakes his head. “The others are with him now. They know how to help him. Well, no. Janus and Remus know how to help him. I…I don’t know about Logan. I left before I could find out.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Virgil leans against the back of the couch, a frown on his face. “I don’t—look. I got summoned when someone got scared. Princey was…he’s not okay, I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Was he injured?”

“He’s in pain, apparently—“

“What do you mean, apparently?”

“Look, I’m just telling you what I know, okay? I got there, he was sitting on the couch and not moving and terrified, so neither me nor Logan were willing to get closer so I summoned Remus and he took it from there.” Virgil sighs again. “I don’t know what’s going on with him, Patton, but it’s—Remus made it pretty clear that it’s because of the meetings.”

Patton’s heart races. Roman’s hurt, Roman’s upset, Roman’s scared, and it’s…it’s their fault? “Can…can we help?”

“Not right now. I think Remus was about to bite my head off if I didn’t leave when Roman said he didn’t want me there.”

“Roman said he didn’t want you?”

“There were a lot of us, Pat, and I think we all surprised him when he was really vulnerable. Remus—Remus, it makes sense. He’s Princey’s brother, he’s—he probably knows exactly what this is and how to help Roman. Janus also seemed to know what was going on and I only got summoned ‘cause Logan accidentally spooked him.”

Patton bites his lip, hands twisted together in his lap as Virgil shakes his head. “Virgil, what do we do?”

“Right now?” Virgil lets his head flop miserably onto the back of the couch. “Wait.”

And so they do. They sit on the couch and they don’t say much and they watch the rest of the room for any sign of the others. 

How did he not notice Roman was getting hurt? How did he hurt Roman without realizing it? And how long has it been since Roman felt like he could tell Patton if he was hurting?

Patton’s not sure he wants the answer to any of these. 

Of course, when Remus shows up looking like he’s ready to eviscerate them, he knows he’s going to get them whether he likes it or not. 

————

There’s a hand in his hair. 

Roman comes back to his body slowly, finally breaking free of the cold pit taking his chest hostage, only to realize there’s a hand carding gently through his hair, nails scratching delicately at his scalp. 

It feels nice. 

…something’s wrong. 

He opens his eyes, half expecting to see Remus there, but not expecting to see Logan. 

And then Logan smiles down at him, hand still gentle and sure on his head, curving down to stroke across his cheek and Roman is so confused. 

“Hush, little one,” Logan says in a tender voice, “it’s alright. Don’t try and move too quickly, your muscles are going to be stiff.”

What is Logan doing here? He remembers Logan showing up but why—where’s Remus? Where’s Janus? What’s happening?

“Easy, sweetie—“ oh, there’s Janus— “it’s okay. I’m still here, I just needed to move for a moment. Shh, shh, none of that now, do you want to sit up?”

Roman nods, a little surprised by how delighted they both look when he does—maybe he’s crushing them?—only for Logan to reach down and still him when he starts struggling to move. 

“Hold on to me,” he instructs softly, “if you get too dizzy, lean on me and we can lie you back down. We’ll go slow, alright, darling?”

Roman shudders at the pet name, spoken with such sincerity that it threatens tears at the corners of his eyes, even as Logan’s arms wind around him. 

“Are you ready, Roman?” Roman nods, trying to reach for Logan too but he can’t. His arms aren’t working. “It’s alright, take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan’s…holding him. Logan’s holding him. He’s holding him against his chest, cradled in his arms, leaning over him with his breath puffing slightly over his forehead, looking at him like he’s something precious. 

“Ready?” He asks as Roman finally manages to twist his fingers into the fabric of Logan’s shirt. “One…two…three.”

Logan lifts him up like he weighs nothing, moving slowly enough for Roman to get used to the feeling of being upright, until he’s propped up halfway across Logan’s lap, head resting against Logan’s shoulder and the crook of his arms, right next to his face. After another moment, he ends up leaning against the back of the couch, cheek pressed to the back, as Logan turns enough so he can see his face without straining. 

“There you are,” he says, still speaking in the soft voice that Roman never wants to stop hearing, “hello, Roman.”

“…wh—“ Roman swallows. “Where’s Remus?”

“Currently talking to Virgil and Patton,” Janus says, taking a seat behind Logan where Roman can see him, “but will be back soon, I’m sure.”

Roman looks from Janus to Logan and back. “What’s…what’s going on?”

“What do you remember?” 

“I…I sunk out after the meeting. I got here. I sat on the couch.” He frowns. “You…you showed up. Then Virgil. Then—then Remus—and then Janus and I—I—“

“Shh, shh, shh,” Logan murmurs, reaching out and ruffling his hair again, “easy, darling. You’re going to work yourself up again.”

“I think you’re doing a fine job of that,” Janus teases lightly, watching Roman’s cheeks flush as Logan showers him in the gentle attention, “he’s blushing.”

“He does that a lot, Janus.”

“Mm, surely those two things aren’t related at all. Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Janus says quickly as Roman’s face contorts, “I’m being mean, aren’t I? I’ll stop, I won’t tease, I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on,” Roman tries again, failing to keep the whine out of his voice, “why’re you being nice, what’s happening, I—what did I do?”

Logan takes a deep breath, hand still carding through his hair. “You’ve been hurting, Roman, from the actions of myself and the others. I wanted to come and find you after the meeting and talk to you, but…I found you almost catatonic instead.”

“I’m s—“

“Shh, none of that, little one.” Logan tugs his hair gently. “It’s not your fault. Janus and Remus explained everything.”

“E-everything everything?”

“Well, I don’t know. Only about RSD and how much you’ve…well, how badly we’ve taken care of you.” Logan smiles and lightly squeezes his shoulder. “I am…currently attempting to amend that.”

“…and the others?”

“I’m sure will want to do the same.”

“But that doesn’t have to be now,” Janus says quickly, as if noticing how overwhelmed Roman’s getting, “that can be…whenever you like. If you want to go back to sleep, you can. It’s up to you.”

Roman stares at Logan. He…he does want to sleep, and lying down in a bed sounds really, really good…but the thought of losing this, losing the softness and the care he’s being shown right now…

It hurts as badly as his hands. 

As if he can read Roman’s thoughts, Logan’s expression softens and he leans closer. “Cuddles, darling?”

A whine leaves his mouth and Logan chuckles. 

“May I carry you?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll come with,” Janus says as he belatedly realizes he doesn’t want Janus to leave either and reaches out for him, “don’t you worry.”

“Close your eyes if you like,” Logan bids gently as he lifts him up again, “we’ll get there in a moment.”

As Roman lets his eyes close and he’s laid down on a bed, his bed, Logan’s warmth wrapping around him, he thinks that perhaps this good thing doesn’t have to end for a while longer. 

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Critical Role mini-Fanfic

Writing Prompt: Imogen's father died in an accident just a few years after Imogen's mother vanished. But just when the town gathers together to chase off the threat a six-year-old Ruidus-born could bring upon a town... she is rescued by the most unexpected of people

Imogen shrank into herself at the shouting around her, wrapping her arms close. It had happened so fast… one of Master Faramore's horses had lashed out with its hooves. Her father's body flew through the air, striking the wall with a sickening thud before he tumbled to the ground. The light dimmed from his eyes as she stared at him, unmoving, his chest not even laboring for breath. Others rushed around her, grabbing the horse's reins, as everything blurred. Heat ran down her cheeks and her lungs burned. Daddy… and everything went dark.

"She doesn't belong here! She's cursed! She brought doom down upon her father and if she stays she'll doom us all! We must be rid of her!"

Imogen stirred at the harsh voice, belonging to Jemma. The old lady had loathed her for as long as Imogen remembered, looking down her bulbous red nose at her and muttering how she was born under an ill omen.

"Now let's not jump to any conclusions, Jemma," Master Faramore said, his voice soothing, but Jemma shouted him down.

"And what? Who's going to take her in? We all know she's Ruidus-born! Too much of her mother in her, that one. None of us are going to risk taking in her curse! We need to drive her from the village before she curses us all!"

Cursed. Jemma's words echoed in her ears. She'd heard the word spoken before in hushed tones, though the six-year-old child didn't exactly know what it meant. But… the memory of her father flying through the air, hitting the wall… I'm to blame. I'm the cursed one. Tears filled her eyes, running down her cheeks, and she stumbled, trying to flee. But she could not escape the taunts and shouts following her.

"Get out of here, you witch! You've no place here!"

"Cursed child! No one wants you!"

"Better you died instead of Relven!"

Better you died… the words echoed in Imogen's head as the world blurred around her until finally she fell to the ground.

"What are you doing? She's a child!" one woman cried out, but as she wiped her eyes clear, she saw the woman being drawn away from a shame-faced man. Other people looked at her and then turned away while the haggard face of Jemma loomed closer.

"Do any dare speak for this child? Her father be dead by her curse. Will any of you risk taking on her curse?" Others were by her side, their low muttering growing in volume. Something struck Imogen, and she felt something hot and sticky running down her face and she turned and started running blindly toward the gate before she bounced off of someone's legs.

Gentle hands grasped her, helping her to her feet, and Imogen looked up at concerned blue eyes, one a sapphire blue and the other the pale blue of a hazy summer sky. Her raven-hued hair was shorn short, held in place with a silver tiara, a bright green stone centered on her forehead.

"Be gone, stranger! This matter concerns you not!" Jemma snapped. At that, the woman's gaze narrowed and while her hand still held her shoulder, she straightened and turned her attention to the small mob gathered before her. Imogen glanced over her shoulder and at the glares and hate just boiling off of them and fled into the woman's arms, sobbing.

"My goddess would never forgive me if I failed to intervene. She has long had a soft spot for children." The woman said, her words a strange dissonance, what was heard different than what Imogen somehow knew was spoken. The woman paused, touching the wound on Imogen's forehead, and then spoke a soft prayer, closing the wound, though crimson still stained her lavender hair. She looked her tone grew colder. "Who threw the stone?" No one responded and she spoke again, her tone positively glacial. "Where are her parents?"

"Dead. Dead and gone, as she deserves to be. This child was born under Ruidus's glare, and you'll be cursed for sheltering her, mark my words!" Jemma responded, spitting toward them.

"And none will take her in? You would abandon her? Have you no shame?!?" She knelt and took Imogen in her arms, standing again to stare them down.

"You try to shame us? We have families to worry about! She's been cursed by the Gods! Drive her away!" Jemma shouted and several men and women around her chucked rocks at them. First one, and then a second and a third paused in their flight, floating in the air as the green stone in the woman's tiara started to glow.

"Cursed, you say? So be it. But you seek to slay a child out of superstitious fear. I cannot abide that. So I call down the Doom of Gelvaan upon you all." The very air dimmed as she spoke, the green of its light illuminating those around the woman.

"The Gods will forsake your town. Their priests shall pass you by. Their magics will fade in your lands. And in time, so too will you fade. Merchants will leave and pass you by. Minstrels shall stop not at your door. Your crops will falter and barely keep you fed. And your children will leave, one by one, until only pale memories remain. Not even the Dead shall wander these lands. You are forsaken."

Her words echoed and those around Jemma quailed and first one and then another broke and fled until only Jemma remained, tears running down her cheeks. The glow of the woman's tiara faded until only the diminished light of the sun lit the land. "You have no right! She is Ruidus-born! She is cursed by the Gods! As will you be!"

The woman ignored her and turned, walking out of Gelvaan with Imogen in her arms, passing through the gates. Soon the light of the sun brightened, beyond the borders of the town, and Imogen let herself be carried by the woman, hiding her face in her shoulder. Finally they paused, and the woman let her down. "Sorry. You're getting heavy," the woman said, a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry," Imogen said with a sniffle, and the woman knelt before her, a sad look in her eyes.

"You did nothing wrong, sweetie. Sometimes people are just assholes. And if a little illusion dimming the lights in the area scares them, that's on them."

"You didn't curse them?" Imogen asked, and the woman shook her head.

"My Goddess wouldn't approve," she said, and then paused. "Okay. They weren't very nice so maybe she would do a little curse but… not everyone. So. What's your name?"

Imogen sniffled and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dress and then whispered "My name's Imogen."

The woman smiled widely and whispered back "Imogen's a beautiful name. You can call me Angel."

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Only the Children by S.A. Dunphy

DI Tessa Burns #2

Wonderful addition to an excellent series ~ Can’t wait to see what happens next!

What I liked:

* The seamless transition from the first to second book

* Tessa Burns: parents murdered when she was young, spent years in the child-care system, ex-military, strong, lethal, dedicated, wise, mature, good friend, intriguing, good people skills, team player * Danny Murphy: lost his parents when young, raised in foster system, usually a gentle giant , quiet but also deadly, physically fit, caring, protective * Maggie Doolan: family liaison officer, psychology and sociology degrees, qualified therapist, has cerebral palsy, friends with Tessa since childhood * Pavlov: Maggie’s partner, support dog, a small black-and-white terrier-mix, bright, calming presence, protective

* The three children in potential peril –  really hope they land in a soft spot

* Jim Shiels: Chief Officer in Coast Guard, intelligent, attractive, divorced, attracted to Tessa, potential love interest, hope to see more of him

* Eric Stafford: fixer for big shopping company, silent but deadly, saved the day a few times, wonder if he will show up again

* Being able to hate the bad guys…and there were plenty to hate

* The plot, pacing, setting, and writing * The police procedural aspects and how the case unfolded * That I became invested in the story and cared about the outcome * The hook at the end that introduces the next book * All of it and too many things to list every one of them

What I didn’t like:

* Who and what I was meant not to like

* Thinking about the life the Merrow must have lived

Did I like this book? Yes

Would I read more in this series? Definitely

Thank you to NetGalley and Bookouture for the ARC – This is my honest review

5 Stars

BLURB

The little girl stares up at Tessa, trembling so hard her whole body shakes. Her brothers stand clutching her hands, both pale with shock. ‘They told us not to speak,’ she finally whispers. But the terror in her tear-filled eyes tells Tessa all she needs to know…

When a cargo ship runs aground off the Irish coast, the police are horrified to find the captain dead at the helm, the crew missing, and three little red-haired children, terrified but unharmed, locked in the galley kitchen. As an expert detective running a child-centred taskforce, Detective Tessa Burns is called in to lead the case. Despite Tessa’s best efforts, the children won’t reveal a thing – not even their own names. Slowly gaining their trust, Tessa uncovers a deadly secret about their past – and the mystery of their missing parents’ whereabouts – that turns everything she thought she knew on its head. But just as it seems she’s cracked the case, Tessa’s team is attacked one dark night, and the youngest boy is kidnapped yet again. It’s clear the children are still in terrible danger. And when another senseless killing sends shockwaves through her team, Tessa realises the murderer is someone much closer to home than they could have ever imagined. Will she be able to uncover the truth in time, or will it be too late for her, and, most devastating of all, for the children…? A totally unputdownable Irish police procedural with jaw-dropping twists. Perfect for fans of Patricia Gibney, Lisa Regan and Angela Marsons.

[codename-freya]

@reservedcloud [[In response to the "what my character would do when they find yours bound to a medical bed" ask meme. Still working and unwell but I couldn't resist. Entre nous, this would be what the Fourth does to patients who keep trying to leave and the nurses and healers are fed up of constantly chasing them down. Mother hen will be regretful but still fuss a little. ]]

"I'm sorry we have to do this and keep you sedated. You kept trying to leave before you're well enough to be discharged," remarked Isane, consulting the clipboard chart at the foot of the bed and scribbling further treatment recommendations in the margins. "I know you want to be out there doing something. I think that's commendable, but you're not going to be any use to anyone in your current state. It wouldn't do your reputation or ours any good if you escaped and died outside our gates without doing anything you planned to do, no? So please endure our hospitality for a while and we may consider loosening those bonds." As the monitors and screens displaying vital signs were duly examined with a serious mien, a gentle hand was laid atop the patient's head to exert cooling reiatsu and induce drowsiness. "Wait till you're better and you can help defend us more effectively. I'm counting on you to protect us then. Be good in the meantime, my child, and we'll see about a little fruit agar for you at supper."

~*~ How many times had it been that she'd tried to escape this time? Kaisa couldn't remember. It had been on multiple occasions she tried, just like every other time she was a patient. All she knew that this time was that just as soon as a foot stepped out of the doors to the outside, she had been caught, sedated, and everything had gone black. She hadn't even had the moment to fight it like the healers knew exactly what needed to be done to bring her back to the hospital room. The young soul hated to be still. She hated to be told she was not allowed to perform her duties. Even when Kaisa tried to plead that she was fine, the medical chart at the food of her bed told the truth. Kaisa was just too stubborn to admit when she needed the help.

A level-headed person would have allowed themselves to be taken care of and to fully heal before being released. She wasn't anywhere near being someone with a level head. Kaisa was rash, stubborn, and impatient. She only rested when she was absolutely forced to. Ever since she was a part of the Gotei 13 she had a penchant for trying to sneak out of the Yonbantai every time she was admitted there. It was always something she did, just not wanting to feel helpless.

She was groggy as she felt the binds keeping her from leaving the bed of her own free will. Her green eyes were dull from the sedative that was slowly working its way through her system. Kaisa tested the binds on her wrists and groaned audibly. There was no way she'd be getting out of them without one of the healers releasing her.

The kind and stern voice of Isane had her foggy brain piecing together that this was more than likely the captain's idea. Pale cheeks flushed pink and she struggled against the binds again. Kotetsu-taicho was saying this was for her own good. Kaisa still didn't like it. She let out a soft whine in protest.

“I'm fine…” she murmured, feeling the hand on her head and the cooling reiatsu, “please, I'm stable… I can fight…”

The drowsiness was coming back even as she tried to fight it. She claimed she was stable and claimed she was okay, but that wasn't the case. Kaisa wasn't in danger of dying, not anymore due to the work of Isane and other healers. She just wasn't fit to leave the Yonbantai. The injuries were still grave enough that she needed to allow the healers to do their jobs.

"Please..." her voice was softer as the drowsiness worked its way around her body and mind. She didn't want to sleep, yet it took hold as her eyelids slowly shut.

[kateis-cakeis]

Alivebur Has A Crush Analysis

Alivebur is a character who has been through the highs and lows of life. We have seen him lead, we have seen him fall, and we have seen him come back and try his best. What we have not previously seen, however, is Alivebur in love. In the last few streams from his POV, his interactions with Quackity have stepped into the realm of possibility that to Alivebur, this is more than a simple rivalry. Therefore, this analysis will explore Alivebur's possible crush on Quackity by going through the streams to show development, and looking in depth at expressions.

The Book

When Alivebur takes the Project Nevadas book from the chest, he regards it and Quackity's name softly, sounding emotional, almost like he's on the verge of tears - especially as he says 'my kinsman':

“Quackity… My, my old rival! My… my kinsman. We’ve been through a lot, we went through a lot together. And I- And I-” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 1:02:11, 5th May)

It's a very emotional line, and truly the first time during the 5th May stream that Alivebur seems genuinely comfortable, suggesting that this is the first time he realises that Quackity is the only one (from his perspective) who isn't afraid of who he was before he died.

Furthermore, it suggests this is where he first gets the hope that Quackity sees him as human.

He even reads the book with a gentle tone, suggesting that he thinks Quackity wrote it with a softness.

In the 31st May stream, Alivebur still has the book on him, and keeps the contents to himself, at first, stopping midsentence as he begins to read it to Tommy.

“Let me read you the book, let me read you the book. ‘My dearest friend, Wilbur’. Uh. And then there’s just some other stuff.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 14:53, 31st May)

Due to him having no idea he was going to be up against Quackity yet, it is likely he kept it to himself because it was too personal to share - only later showing it to Tommy as a plea to why he shouldn't join Quackity.

In between reading the first part and uttering 'uh', Alivebur opens his mouth to say more, but no words come out. As if he couldn't physically read it.

Then he goes on to 'read' Tommy the book, except he makes up the contents. What is interesting here, is how he seems to slip:

“It says: ‘My dearest friend, Wilbur. I’ve really missed seeing you. Come to Project Nevadas. Your best friend, Quackity.’ He’s not my best friend, Tommy, don’t worry, that would be you.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 16:28, 31st May)

Tommy has pushed him for what's inside the book, so Alivebur 'gives in' and starts to read it, coming up with what he's saying on the fly. The slip? 'Your best friend', we know in the 25th July stream that one of Alivebur's goals seems to be Quackity being his friend, making this line all the more obvious that this is something Alivebur wants, to be Quackity's friend, and to be on his side.

When he gets rejected from Las Nevadas, he opens up the book like he's trying to make sense of it:

Because Alivebur took it as a call, took it as an invitation to join Quackity and be on his side - something that Alivebur seems to want. Perhaps because it would be a place to belong, a side to stand with, someone to stand alongside who isn't afraid of him.

Hence why he was petty and challenged Quackity, because he was rejected by the only person who Alivebur thinks regards him as a human.

Alivebur keeps the book on him in the following stream, Healthy Competition. Where, in the middle of talking to Phil, while looking in his inventory, he gets distracted by the book, losing track of what he was saying as he looks at it:

This suggests that Alivebur is keeping the book on him because it's precious, and because he's yearning. It isn't something he's keeping safe in an Ender chest like he used to do with history books, but rather something he's keeping on him, almost like he's keeping it close to his heart.

It's personal, enough to distract him in the middle of a conversation in a way we haven't seen from Alivebur before.

When he's making plans, he doesn't get distracted easily, usually sticking to the point, but here, he trails off in the middle of a sentence, pulls the book into his hand, struggles to open it, and looks for just a second before putting it away.

It's definitely not something that Alivebur would do at all, and is certainly new. Which, in turn, heavily suggests a crush because it is something we've never seen before.

Later in the stream, as Alivebur tosses the named steaks over to Ranboo, Alivebur pulls the book into his hand again. His expression drops almost, he stops in a sense, eyes dipping down. There's a sadness this time:

Like a sad longing. Perhaps the book is a reminder too, of what he truly wants, to be alongside Quackity, to be his dearest friend like it says.

While Alivebur doesn't look at the book in the 3rd and 4th Aug streams, he does still have it on him, showing that he does indeed keep it on him at all times. Evidently, the book is very important to him.

Therefore, due to all this, it can be heavily suggested from the book alone that Alivebur has a crush. Keeping it on him at all times, regarding it softly, being unable to share the contents at first, looking at it with a longing or a sad yeaning, all show that the book is precious to him in a way that proves feelings.

The Crush Question

More under the cut

When Alivebur talks about how Quackity challenged him, calling the look in his eyes cool - before then admitting that he almost called it hot, Tommy proceeds to ask if Alivebur has a crush, to which Alivebur says:

“I have a complicated relationship with Big Q, but I don’t think it’s at that level yet.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 44:55, 31st May)

There is a lot to this line, for example, 'complicated relationship' suggests, within this context, that he's referring to their very colourful past, where they were political rivals, allies, perhaps friends, and also almost lovers.

Considering that Alivebur says he doesn't think it's at the level of a crush yet does indeed suggest that he is aware of his attraction and/or feelings for Quackity.

We know from Niki's birthday party that Alivebur had feelings for Quackity then:

“Sometimes, uh, you know, my, my, my feelings towards some people... in this room get the better of me.” - (Karl's Dream SMP with Niki: 1:46:37, 2nd Nov)

During that pause, that ellipsis, Alivebur looks straight at Quackity before continuing. It is clear that at this point he did have feelings, hence why he kissed Quackity, and why later in that stream he sang songs of love and hate to him. Complicated relationship indeed.

So, 'complicated relationship' possibly does refer to all their past, to everything they've been, or almost been. That paired with him thinking his feelings aren't at the level of a crush yet - at this point - does heavily suggest that this is something that is progressing.

Either he will later realise his feelings have gotten to the level of a crush, or that it's been a crush for a while, but the important part here, is the use of 'yet', he's expecting it.

In turn, Alivebur's answer to Tommy's question does suggest the existence of feelings already, as well as Alivebur acknowledging it can become a crush.

Crush Behaviour

In recent streams it has become increasingly evident that Alivebur is behaving like he has a crush already. Even in the first stream where this becomes evident - the 31st May one - he displays signs of a crush.

To begin, one of the most evident signs of a crush from the 31st May stream are the longing sighs:

It's the way he sighs with his whole chest. The way he's trying to speak but sighs instead, as if that's all he can say, as if it conveys everything he feels.

The lines the sighs coincide with are interesting to note too:

“He’s, he’s um, he’s, I guess my, my yang. He’s the yang.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 47:56, 31st May)

The first sigh takes place between 'he's um' and 'he's', and only then gets out what he wants to say, that Quackity's his yang. Which, from that, it can be suggested that the sigh comes from thinking about Quackity as his light, his other half, as something he can't exist without, something like a soulmate. Because that's what 'his yang' suggests on its own, but paired with the sigh, it shows how he's thinking about it, and from the tone, he's also longing for it.

And then there's the line for the second sigh:

“Because when you’ve got people like Quackity over there, who are just- You know, he said it best, I’m not gonna talk shit about him behind his back.” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 1:10:00, 31st May)

Here the sigh takes place when Alivebur cuts himself off after the 'just'. It's more of a breathed sigh, and it has a 'aw' sound to it. There is a feeling of more attraction here than longing. He's thinking about Quackity again and then sighs like this, almost in a happy way. It's almost got an amazed feel to it, as if that's how he feels when thinking of Quackity here.

Then he goes on to say he's not gonna talk shit about him behind his back, which also indicates a crush type behaviour, because while he's setting himself up to be Quackity's rival, he stops himself from doing what most would when they're against someone.

The sighs aren't the only part of the 31st May stream that have a crush behaviour feeling to them. This is also clear when Tommy asks if Alivebur and Quackity were kissing.

He nervously laughs after Tommy asks, and stares at Quackity, with his hand over his mouth. The nervous laugh suggests that Alivebur does feel something towards this question, something positive but guarded, hence his hand over his mouth, and why he stares at Quackity.

And then he deflects. He doesn't answer Tommy's question, he just changes the subject. It's clear from this that he's hiding his true feelings here.

“No, I don’t think I wanna kiss him. It’s um…” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 50:29, 31st May)

This is backed up by him saying he doesn't think he wants to kiss Quackity. He clearly has some complicated feelings about it, hence the use of 'think' instead of just leaving it as no.

Evidentially, there is some guarded part of Alivebur that isn't sure what to feel about kissing Quackity, but judging by the use of 'think', and nervously laughing while staring at Quackity after being asked if they were kissing, it seems like he's thought about it.

The next blatant crush behaviour happens in the 25th July stream as Alivebur is talking about how he met up with Quackity:

The body language here, the way he seems to fiddle with his arms, it's a very nervous thing to do, and since he's talking to Phil here, it suggests he's nervously talking about his crush to his dad.

The full line shows this even more:

“Yeah! I met up with him, and I hadn’t seen him in ages. It was, I’m gonna say it, it was nice. It was a nice time. I- I- It felt good, it felt, uh, you know, he didn’t, he didn’t seem afraid of me, which is cool.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 7:38, 25th July)

He begins with that he hadn't seen him in ages, which is especially interesting because this is true of everyone, it's been 13 years for Alivebur, but the way he says it here makes it sound so casual, like it had just been a little while. Perhaps it suggests how human and alive he feels around Quackity.

He goes on to say it was nice, that it felt good, and how it's cool Quackity didn't seem afraid of him. Which suggests even more so of just how human and alive Quackity makes him feel, that he simply had a nice time. Especially with him saying it felt good, which shows how this isn't just an intense rivalry for Alivebur, it's something that makes him feel more positive emotions.

The most damning evidence for Alivebur's crush behaviour, however, comes from when he's waiting for Quackity on the 4th Aug stream.

“Wait here, look, I promise you, just you wait. Just you wait. Ready? Ready? Are you ready? Are- Are you- Are you ready? Um… Uh…” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 11:06, 4th Aug)

He expects Quackity to be there as soon as he is, but when he's not there, Alivebur begins to get nervous, um-ing and uh-ing. After two minutes of waiting around, Alivebur then proceeds to proclaim that he thinks he understands Quackity, and how his brain works, only for him to prove he doesn't give a shit:

“This guy. Ranboo, I swear to god, like I, I feel like I understand him, I feel like I know how his brain works, you know, how his- how the- how the cogs in his mind go. And then he just, and then he just goes and proves that he doesn’t give a shit.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 12:56, 4th Aug)

The reason this is evident crush behaviour is because Alivebur starts getting self-conscious about how Quackity feels about him after waiting two minutes. He assumes that as soon as he arrives on the border, Quackity will be there instantly.

It's very reminiscent of real life, where some people may get self-conscious if their crush doesn't text them back immediately. Except with Alivebur, instead of a text, he turns up on Las Nevadas's doorstep and expects Quackity to drop anything he's doing to tell him to fuck off.

However, the most blatant part of this piece of evidence is when Quackity asks if they've been waiting long, to which Alivebur replies with:

“Uh, I’ve just arrived, you know, I just arri- I, I haven’t been long for you. I, I wouldn’t- Quackity, you think, you think I’d wait for you?” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 14:35, 4th Aug)

He pretends he's just arrived, trying to act suave, that he wouldn't wait for Quackity, just like how Quackity didn't instantly greet him the minute he turned up. He's brushing it off here, but even he himself knows that he isn't acting as smooth as he would like:

He glances away as he drinks from the bottle, then closes his eyes, scrunching up his face. It's an embarrassed 'oh god did I really just say that?' type expression. It's the type of expression you would expect to see from someone who feels like they've just embarrassed themself in front of their crush.

That's what is evident here when everything from this scene is put together, that Alivebur is acting like he has a crush.

Finally, the last bit of evidence we have right now that indicates Alivebur is expressing crush behaviour is when he says he feels alive after interacting with Quackity:

“I feel alive, Ranboo, I feel alive. Someone’s looking at me and talking to me! I’m alive, I’m alive! This is great.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 27:22, 4th Aug)

You may notice here that the 'someone's looking at me' is similar to what cc!Wilbur said from Alivebur's perspective in the recent reddit comment about him (here), that 'no-one even looked at him' before he died. Alivebur is excited, even seeming to be happy, that someone is actually paying attention to him, looking at him, even if it's in a rivalry sense.

And it's only Quackity that makes him feel this way, despite Ranboo being there, talking to him. It suggests that what Alivebur is feeling with Quackity is unique, and makes him feel more than the friendship he has with Ranboo.

Most of all, the excited and stressed 'I feel alive' and 'I'm alive!' not only suggests that just talking to Quackity makes him feel alive, but that it could be making his heart beat faster every time he sees him and interacts with him.

This is implied through the line because to feel alive in this excited sense induces a reaction, and that probable reaction of feeling alive - being excited, suggests his heart is beating faster. This links back to Alivebur having a crush because when a person is around someone they have feelings for, their heart beats faster.

Lastly, in the latter half of the quote, when he says 'I'm alive!', he looks towards Las Nevadas, and sighs in what sounds like a happy tone. This shows that it is indeed Quackity that is making him feel this way.

All in all, everything from the sighs to the way Quackity makes him feel alive, does indeed suggest that Alivebur is displaying crush behaviour towards Quackity, and therefore, indicates that he has a crush.

Homoerotic Tension

Another factor that ties into the evidence that Alivebur has a crush, is the homoerotic tension he has towards and with Quackity.

The most obvious occurrence of this is when Alivebur bites his lip at the idea that Quackity won't like the burger van:

“So he didn’t like it? He didn’t like you setting up the cookie stand? … Okay. Okay. No, no, no, that’s good.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 21:33, 25th July)

As soon as Ranboo says Quackity didn't like it, Alivebur smiles, licks his lips, and then bites his lip.

In this context, there's no anxiousness here, so the only reason he could be biting his lip is because of his attraction to Quackity. A lip bite in this sense means that Alivebur is restraining himself, as well as experiencing desire.

It's a very clear attraction to Quackity, which further shows that he is attracted to him in all senses. This is also a foundation for where his feelings are coming from, and because we know Alivebur's type (he likes a challenge and thought the look in Quackity's eyes was hot when he challenged him), it becomes evident that the lip bite is a reaction to the idea of Quackity being angry at him.

And in the 4th Aug stream, this is explicitly said:

“When you smashed the window and blew up the wall? I’d be pissed, and I bet he is, dude.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 7:20, 4th Aug)

--

“Ohh boy! Ha ha ha ha, ha! Oh, this is good, this is- this is exactly what I want. Did you see how- Dude, dude, Ranboo, he was trying act like I didn’t get to him.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 26:47, 4th Aug)

Therefore, due to Alivebur expecting Quackity to be pissed, and him saying it's exactly what he wants after interacting with him, it's clear that him smiling and biting his lip after hearing that Quackity didn't like the cookie stand, comes from wanting Quackity to be angry with him, and so, links into his type, proving his attraction to him.

This links back to his possible crush because a lip bite like this definitely isn't an expression someone would make about a friend or just a rival. Which means it's explicitly attraction to Quackity, and further suggests that him having a crush on him is very possible.

Another notable moment that shows tension in this sense is when Alivebur says Quackity is a hard man to refuse.

“But I get it, I get it, you know, Quackity… He’s a, he’s a hard man to refuse.” - (Wilbur’s Unhealthy Competition: 24:09, 4th Aug)

The reason this suggests homoerotic tension and attraction is because of what 'he's a hard man to refuse' suggests. It's as if Alivebur is saying to Quackity that he can't say no to him, which shows how he is drawn to him. It also suggests that if Quackity were to ask something of Alivebur, he would do it, as he can't refuse him easily/can't say no.

The most interesting part about this is how Alivebur has never been manipulated or persuaded by Quackity, and therefore, in Alivebur's case, this sentiment is coming from their history, and possibly refers to the rivalry they have always had. Alivebur didn't refuse Quackity from running against him during the election era, and he eagerly gunned for a rivalry once he was rejected from Las Nevadas.

All of this indicates that Alivebur saying Quackity is a hard man to refuse has romantic connotations to it and suggests attraction to him.

Overall, the homoerotic tension, and Alivebur's attraction shows how it's very likely a crush has built off this foundation, and suggests why Alivebur is so drawn to Quackity.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Alivebur has a crush due to the way he talks about and interacts with Quackity. It is clear in the way he holds the book close and regards it softly and with a longing, and how he doesn't think his feelings are at the level of a crush yet, as if he fully expects it to happen. Additionally, his yearning sighs, the way he nervously laughs as Tommy asks if they kissed, his body language when he talks to Phil about him, and how he attempts to act smooth in front of Quackity only to be embarrassed by what he said, all suggest he's behaving like he has a crush. Furthermore, biting his lip when thinking of Quackity and saying he's a hard man to refuse show his attraction, and therefore, his likely crush. Overall, Alivebur has a crush due to all these factors.

[starlessea]

"Don’t Cry”

A/N This started off as a drabble, but I got carried away and it turned into a one-shot. I’m really happy with how this one turned out! Based on number #39 from this prompt list for @phoenixblack89​

Summary: Daryl hates seeing your tears. He’d much rather see you smiling, instead.

Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee

Atlanta High School.

You’d graduated a long while back — so long ago now that you’d forgotten the feeling of walking its halls, and having your shoes squeak against the cheap wooden planks.

You could see the rows of lockers you’d chatted by daily, and the one in particular where you’d shared your first kiss with a boy whose name you couldn’t remember. The doors of the classrooms seemed familiar, as did the posters on the walls which were the same as they’d been when you attended — something about washing your hands and remembering to vote for class president.

It was as though time stood still.

And, in this very moment, there was nothing you wished for more.

Daryl’s hand was warm on your cheek, and his thumb gentle as he drew faint circles over your skin. You leaned into his touch, the same way you’d done with that boy against your locker — not even a few feet away.

But this was different.

This was Daryl.

Your lips quivered, trembling like a leaf stuck in the wind. Your hands felt numb as they pressed against him, so hard that you thought they would bruise. But all you could hear were those damn lockers — their doors slamming open and closed as they caught in the draft.

Like a sarcastic fucking applause.

Daryl tilted your head up, gently guiding your gaze from his collar to his face, where your eyes caught his. And your breath died in your throat, before bubbling into a sob that rang out in the air like the Atlanta High School bell.

He was smiling.

“Don’t cry,” he said — in the most calm, accepting tone you’d ever heard a person speak. It lacked all of his usual bite, the gruffness you’d come to know and associate with the man.

It sounded foreign.

Maybe that was why, despite his words, the tears poured over anyway, and settled on your cheeks where he swiped them away with a flick of his thumb.

“I wan’-” he started, but paused for a second to grimace from the pain. “I wanna remember ya smilin’.”

You choked on another watery cry, shaking your head away from his gentle hold, as you returned your focus to his wound.

The bite on his collarbone was deep, gushing blood quicker than you could soak it up with the tattered remnants of your jacket. His skin was a stark, vermillion red, as were your hands, as was the floor, as were those fucking lockers where you’d smeared his blood as you tried to carry him to safety.

Everything was red, red, red.

You pressed more firmly, soaking it up with fluttering hands that burnt from the sheer heat of his skin. He felt like a match having been set alight — burning brilliantly beneath your palms as you tried your best to quell the flames.

Daryl rested his hand over yours, engulfing it. “Listen to me, ” he rasped — and you panicked at how much more weak his voice was sounding — “there’s flares in my rucksack.”

He glanced over your shoulder, at the abandoned bag sitting near your feet. It was stuffed with supplies from the school — all of which were now completely useless, and nowhere near worth his goddamn life.

Sweat beaded on his skin, and collected in the dips of his collar — like little pools of salt water.

He squeezed your hand. “Ya gotta get to the roof an’ flag down Rick,” he told you, his smile dropping from his face as he became much more serious. “He’ll come for ya.”

Your hands stilled over the wound for a second, easing their pressure as you took in the man’s words. Then he flashed those eyes at you, which begged for you not to argue.

But you did.

You kicked out your leg behind you, sending that backpack sliding across those cheap wooden planks, and making it thud against a locker. You didn’t need the flares.

You just needed Daryl.

“I can’t-” you yelled, but your voice split, and the man quickly hushed you before it got too loud. After all, the dead had you surrounded. “I’m not leaving you behind,” you spluttered.

Your tone was frantic, panicked, desperate.

You could feel his heartbeat pounding underneath your palms, where you pressed down against it. It was as though you held his heart in your hands — and he’d probably argue that you always had.

Daryl shook his head smally, careful not to disturb the bite further. “An’ ya can’t take me with ya,” he replied.

No, you thought, you would carry him out if it killed you, you would fight your way through, and get him to the infirmary, and you could-

“I ain’t gonna make it, baby girl,” he whispered, “‘m sorry.”

And you broke.

Suddenly, you were aware of the flickering overhead lights that made his skin look so clammy, so sickly. You were conscious of the blood smear trail he’d left behind — that vibrant scarlet which reminded you of a burning sunset — and the pounding at the doors, and the feet squeaking on those floorboards like the lunchtime rush between classes.

“You will!” you yelled, not at all caring about how loud you’d gotten. “You have to, Daryl,” you cried, pleadingly.

His hand felt so warm that it made yours seem cold. It felt like you were the one dying — your heart shattering each time he took a wheezed breath, or flinched in pain.

“How am I-” you asked, but by now your voice had tapered off to a mere whisper. You shook your head. There was no question about it. “I can’t go on without you,” you told him.

You could hear the blood rushing to your ears as your breaths got away from you — too shallow and too sparse. Daryl looked worse each passing minute, his olive skin now a translucent grey.

He took both of your hands in his, making you drop your jacket, as blood seeped through the material of his shirt. You tried to fight against him, eyeing the trail of red as it ran along his collar like a stream, but he kept a hold of your wrists firmly — with the little strength he had left.

“Ya can,” he growled — the grit to his voice causing you to instantly still — “an’ ya will.”

And he flashed those eyes at you again, but this time they had his usual spark behind them.

“Yer the damn strongest woman I e’er met,” he went on, letting his grip loosen on your wrists ever so slightly, “‘m jus’ happy a dumb ol’ redneck like me got to spend a couple good years with ya.”

Then, he smiled.

“It was fun.”

He let your hands drop out of his, no longer having any fight left. But instead, you used them to clamber onto his lap, wrapping them around his torso as you buried your head deep into his chest — his warm, red chest.

“Please don’t talk like that!” you cried, your words muffled by his clothes and lost to his skin.“I’m not going anywhere! I want to stay with you-”

“Nah, that ain’t happenin’,” he snapped — but his hand remained light on your head, gently stroking your hair in his attempts to calm you. “I swear to god, I’ll haunt yer ass if ya dare pull somethin’ tha’ stupid.”

But you grabbed onto his shirt until your knuckles flashed white, bunching up the material in your fists like you couldn’t bear to part with it. It smelt like him — underneath the coppery scent of fresh blood.

Slowly, he tried to coax you out, but you could feel the way his hands shook, and it only made everything worse. Those hands had always been strong — had always been the ones to pick you up and set you back on your feet every time you fell.

“Look a’ me,” he pleaded, his voice croaky. He tilted your chin up again, in the same way he did every time he went to kiss you — and it made your heart hurt, because no kiss followed. “C’mon now, don’ cry,” he whispered, his breath much too hot against your skin, “‘m here.”

“But you won’t be,” you wailed, the words startling you as they crept out from your mouth.

You hadn’t wanted to admit them.

“But I am now,” Daryl replied, just as quick. “So please jus’ smile for me, would ya?”

His hand fell down to your waist, before rubbing small circles in the small of your back — just how he did every morning to wake you up.

You couldn’t do it, but you needed to do it.

For Daryl.

You uncurled yourself from his chest, and wiped away the fresh tears with your shirt, blinking away the rest. You moved in his lap until you were face to face, trying not to catch a glimpse of his wound which continued to pour red.

Then, you finally smiled back at him.

It was wobbly, and forced, but it was wide — and full of love.

“Atta girl,” he choked back, his voice breaking for the first time.

You couldn’t tell whether his glassy eyes were from the fever, or the pain, or from you, but you bit your lip either way.

Don’t cry, you told yourself, and watched as he did.

“Yer so goddamn beautiful,” he mumbled, raising his thumb to the corner of your lips. It was as callous as always, but at this moment it only felt soft. “I was one lucky son o’ a bitch,” he declared, with a warm smile.

You raised your hands in return, cupping his face and feeling his beard tickle over your palms — thinking back to the times you complained at how unkempt it was. His forehead dropped down onto yours, and the heat from his skin radiated outwards, setting you ablaze as you touched.

“I love you, Dixon,” you confessed, as though it were the first time and not the last. “Now and always.”

The overhead lights hummed as they flickered like camera flashes, and the pounding at the door became more incessant.

So, you drowned everything out with a press of your lips to his — as Daryl tilted your head up in the way he always did, and gave you one final kiss which tasted like seasalt and copper. It was underneath the locker where you’d had your first kiss, but now it marked your last one with the man you loved most in this world.

“Me too,” Daryl whispered, as you broke apart. He glanced over your shoulder once again, at the discarded backpack across the hall. “Now get outta here before they break through.”

You stumbled to your feet violently, needing a strong, stark shock to actually be enough to pull you away from the man for good.

And you didn’t look back.

You couldn’t. If you so much as caught a glimpse of those angel wings or heard as little as a breath escape his mouth, you wouldn’t have left.

And that would’ve killed Daryl in more ways than one.

So, you retrieved the backpack, and opened the fire escape door a few feet away, before slipping behind it, and sliding down to your knees.

The concrete cut your skin open, and once again you were confronted with red.

A cry escaped you, which morphed into a wail as you clutched your chest and tried to fix the bleeding happening inside it — the red that you couldn’t see.

But a shout startled you, and ceased your sobs as soon as they sounded.

“Don’ cry!” Daryl’s voice yelled, muffled by the metal door but still strong, and guttural, and fierce. “I can hear ya!”

So, you picked yourself back up, and set yourself on your feet in the same way he’d taught you how — and you ran for the roof, flare in hand.

Atlanta High School always had the best rooftop view.

The sunset stretched out in the distance, one of brilliant vermillion, and warm, copper orange. The balcony was the same as you remembered, with high metal railings to keep students from jumping, or getting too close to that view.

This roof had been the place where you’d yelled about hating this place, this town, this state — and had cried out to the sky about wishing to anywhere but here.

But now you didn’t want to leave.

Because your everything was right here.

You held the flare in your hand, wondering what colours it would burst and illuminate the sky — whilst praying it would be anything other than red.

You let off the flare, and a single gunshot followed.

End.

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A/N Blame Jess and Shannon for the increase in angst.

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[sinnamonrolle]

[ the little moments] ♡ Belphegor

7 - That moment when Belphegor showed you magic.

✿ part of a series! ✿

❀  gender neutral reader  ❀

Warnings: Mentions of death and also lesson 16 spoilers

Nights in the Devildom were no different from nights in the human world, except for the abundance of visible stars twinkling in the night sky. Too much light pollution covered the stars in the human world, and you had almost forgotten what they looked like if not for arriving at the Devildom.

“Can’t sleep?” A voice, soft and heavy with sleep, entered the planetarium. It echoed gently in the dimness around you and almost faded under the trickling of the water fountain, the airy words murmuring against your ears.

Belphegor draped a warm, fluffy blanket around you as he settled next to you, wrapping himself with the other end of the blanket. He sat to your right, one of his long legs bent at the knees, and the other stretched out against the marble floor. When he leaned into you, the soft strands of his hair tickled your neck, and the faint smell of chamomile floated around you.

“Seems like I’m not the only one,” you teased, brushing your thumb against his cheek as you tucked his bangs behind his ear. They didn’t stay there long, falling back down to cover his eyes again.

Belphie sighed. He turned his head slightly, his purple eyes half-lidded as they met yours.

“Missed you,” he muttered. “I woke up with this gaping feeling in my chest, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I could feel you next to me.” Then he hesitated, his breath hitching as you felt his hand twitch against yours. “Can I… Can I hold your hand?”

You took his hand in yours, weaving your fingers with his. His fingers were freezing, so you rubbed them with your other hand, hoping to warm them up somewhat.

“Of course,” you said, smiling. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Of course,” Belphie repeated. He brought your intertwined hands to his mouth and pressed a light kiss to the back of your hand. “You’re here with me.”

Your cheeks warmed along with your heart, your mind fumbling around the affection consuming you from the inside out. This was the best feeling of love you could ever have the privilege of experiencing—it was something like a stuffy feeling, like layers of cotton had been padded in your chest, and it wasn’t strong to the point where you felt like you could burst into pieces, but something more subtle, something more encompassing, suffusing through every fiber of your being and every molecule of your soul.

You were absolutely immersed in it.

“I have a little trick for you,” Belphie said almost immediately after, pulling away from you so that he was sitting upright. “Since you can’t sleep. Have you heard of tracing?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t think so.”

He hummed. “That’s not too surprising. Tracing is something children are taught when they are very young, so the RAD professors wouldn’t teach you what it is.” Then, he held out his hand, the one that wasn’t holding yours. “Here, hold your hand out. With your palm up. It’ll make it easier. Tracing is basically what it sounds like. You trace the air with your magic.”

You felt like you understood it but also didn’t at the same time. You could hold your hand out no problem, but everything after that was… hm. Not good.

“Belphie, you’re a bad teacher,” you said, smiling teasingly at him.

He glared half-heartedly at you, eyebrows just barely furrowing, but then he chuckled.

“Sorry, my little sun,” Belphie said, lips curling at the edges into an amused smile. His bangs brushed past his nose as he tilted his head. “I’ll explain properly this time.”

True to his words, he took his time teaching you, explaining each part thoroughly and making sure you understood. You were surprised that he had that much patience, especially since he yawned multiple times throughout his explanation. Although, you couldn’t say that tracing was hard to explain.

“Very good,” Belphie said, his voice drifting into your ears. “Visualize your magic, make it visible, solidify it, and then move it according to your will. When you get used to it, put down your hand. Try tracing by using only your mind.”

It took you a few tries, but it really wasn’t too difficult. Once you managed to trace without having to use your hand as an anchor, the first thing you traced in the air was “Belphegor” surrounded by hearts. If you maintained your focus, your tracing could stay for a few minutes, so you kept adding hearts around his name, the color of your magic lighting up the planetarium.

“Why are you like this?” Belphie sighed, exasperated. He started tracing as well, purple letters appearing next to yours. His magic was lazy but light, appearing in delicate, efficient strokes.

“Like what?”

“So precious.”

You turned to him, blinking in surprise, but he didn’t look at you. Instead, he focused on the letters in front of him, his eyes reflecting the light from his magic. When he still didn’t face you, you returned to adding more hearts around his name—only to see what he was tracing.

It was your name in beautiful calligraphy, and underneath, it was Belphie’s endearment for you—my little sun—in smaller but just as lovely letters. He also incorporated a sun into your name, little lines indicating the sunbeams. Even though he didn’t draw any hearts at all, his adoration for you was still clear as day.

“You’re the precious one here,” you said, pretending that the lump in your throat didn’t exist. You spoke past it, even when your voice came out scratchy in doing so. “Now, it doesn’t matter how many hearts I draw. It won’t beat yours.”

Belphegor laughed, his voice coming out in airy puffs. “Since when did this become a competition? You’ve already beaten me. The moment I fell for you, you’ve already become my everything.” He looked at you softly, the lines around his eyes gentle with love. But you also noticed the dark circles lining underneath them, hidden behind his bangs. “My little sun. You are the light in my world.”

“Then, you’re my moon,” you said, squeezing his hand. “My other half. In the darkness, you are my light.”

“I am your moon,” he agreed. He squeezed your hand back, turning away from you, and rested his forehead against his propped up knee. “Because even the moon gets its light from the sun.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you went back to the letters hovering in the air. You let most of the hearts fade from around Belphegor’s name, but you kept the rest. You wanted to keep some form of your love visible for at least a little longer.

“You know what’s funny?” he suddenly asked.

You drew a little cow in the air, adding Belphie’s horns to it. “What?”

“I used to love human beings,” he started. “They were just so fascinating, and I loved them. But not in the way Lilith loved them. The love I felt for humans was like how humans love flowers. But Lilith didn’t love them like flowers. Lilith picked one human and gave them all of her love, to the point that she went against Celestial laws for them.”

Belphie paused. The water fountain gurgled faintly in the silence. You finished your cow and decided to stop tracing, tilting your head up to look at the planetarium sky instead.

He continued, “I didn’t understand that kind of love. I didn’t understand what kind of feelings could drive her to such lengths for a human. A human that would never live as long as us. When Lucifer told us that she died, all I could think about was that, in some way—I killed her. I led her to her death. It was because I loved humans that she fell in love with one. But because my love was not the same as her love, I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand her love, I didn’t understand her reasons, I didn’t understand her.”

He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Because I didn’t understand, I blamed the humans for it. I started hating them, and it was a kind of loathing that ate away at me from the inside. I hated that they took my sister away. I hated that she had to fall in love with one. I hated that I didn’t understand. So, you know what’s funny? It’s funny that it is only now that I understand.”

“Belphie,” you whispered. You couldn’t see his face, but from the shakiness of his voice, you knew that he was in a lot of pain—pain so embedded into him that you didn’t know how to soothe. You adjusted your position so that you could wrap your arm around him, bringing him into a half hug.

“Isn’t it funny?” Belphegor rasped, his body trembling. “Isn’t it funny how I hated humans so much for causing my sister to die, yet now, I am completely, utterly in love with one? And now—and now, I understand exactly how Lilith felt back then. Now, I know why she did what she did. The irony of it all—I hated that I loved humans, but that hate has also led me to you. Lilith, as an angel, fell in love with a human, and I, as a demon, have also fallen in love with one.”

You took in his shaking form, the light heaving of his chest, the balled up fist at his side. You took it all in, and asked, lightly, “Do you regret it?”

Belphie shot up, misty eyes frantically meeting yours as he squeezed your intertwined hands tightly. “Never. I never regretted it. I wouldn’t, and I will never. Loving you is nothing but joy. I love loving you, I love seeing you smile, I love knowing that you are happy. I love that you love me. I love you. I am so happy, knowing that I love you. And I will break every rule in all three realms in a heartbeat, if it means that I can see you smile again.”

“You don’t have to go that far,” you said softly, brushing his bangs to the side so you could see all of him. “Just knowing that you love me is enough. I love you too. For me, loving you is a state of truth. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

A sort of desperation haunted him, lingering in the deep purple of his eyes. He took your free hand, clasping it together with your interwoven hands. When he rested his forehead against them, it almost resembled a prayer of sorts.

“You can’t die,” Belphie pleaded, begging, praying—choking on his words. “You can’t die. Please, I can’t lose you. Please, please—you can’t die. Please, don’t leave me alone. My sun can’t set. I can’t live in a world without your light. Please, you can’t die—”

But you knew, and you knew that he knew too.

That all suns must set.

-------

Masterlist!

[valdomarx]

“Geralt. My dearest friend. My closest companion. Light of my life, fire of my-”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “What do you want, Jaskier?”

“Seeing as how I’ve made you famous, and I flatter myself that this has eased you path somewhat, why, this very inn not only took us in but even offered us a discounted rate-”

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Testier this time.

“Ahh. Well. Let me put it plainly: I’m in need of a favour.”

Geralt raises one eyebrow, in an expression he knows speaks volumes.

“I need you to come with me to Lettenhove this winter and pose as my fiancé.”

Geralt nearly drops the sword he’s sharpening. A million thoughts whip through his mind, but one is most pressing: “Why, for Melitele’s sake?”

Jaskier waves a hand in a vague and non-descriptive gesture. “It’s a court thing, you know how families are, and my mother has made it abundantly clear that it’s time for me to settle down and this year I’m to return affianced or else she’ll select someone for me. And I can’t get hitched to some local lady, Geralt, I simply can’t, it’ll ruin my bardic appeal, not to mention my employment prospects, and of course I won’t be able to travel with you, and it’s-”

Geralt holds up a hand to ward off the wall of words. The idea of no longer travelling with Jaskier is unconscionable, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. And they spend so much time together they’re practically married anyway. How hard could it be to pretend for a few days?

“Fine,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, Geralt, you are wonderful.” Jaskier beams and throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt growls, but secretly, it’s actually rather nice.

-

“Mother, this is Geralt, my fiancé.”

Cold, clear eyes look him up and down, assessing him, and pinch into an expression suggesting he has been found wanting. Geralt decides against opening his mouth and further cementing that opinion.

“A witcher.” Her voice has the familiar twang of Jaskier’s, but with the flat, expressionless cadence he associates with the higher echelons of the aristocracy.

“A witcher!” Jaskier confirms in a cheery tone. “Isn’t that exciting?”

She sniffs in a manner which makes it clear that exciting would not be her first choice of word. “I see. He will be joining us for this year’s Yuletide?”

“He will.”

Her face draws back into the impassive mask of the well-bred. “Very well. You will stay in the east wing.”

“Thank you, mother.” Jaskier executes a stiff bow which Geralt copies and they beat a hasty retreat.

-

“That went rather well!”

Geralt blinks. “Jaskier, I’m fairly sure your mother means to have me killed in my sleep.”

“Oh, don’t mind her. She’s always like that. She’s actually softened up a lot since dear old dad died, gods rest the grumpy bastard.”

Geralt struggles to imagine how such staid, cold people could possibly have produced a son as bright and warm as Jaskier. They might as well be a different species.

Jaskier pushes open a door to a grand suite, all plush velvets and gold ornamentation, a thick woven rug underfoot. It’s the most opulent room Geralt has ever seen, but Jaskier pays it no mind and throws his bag casually on the bed.

“We’ll have to stay here together,” he says apologetically, not looking Geralt in the eye. “But the bed is plenty big, or I can sleep on the sofa if you’d rather -”

Geralt is still taking it all in: The space, the furnishings, the frankly enormous bed which looks divinely comfortable. And there, through the next room, that looks like-

“Is that a copper bathtub?” he asks, eyes wide. Such luxuries were a rarity indeed.

Jaskier grinned. “It is. Let me get some food sent up and I’ll wash your hair?”

Geralt grumbles, just for the effect, and decides that putting up with tedious aristocracy might have its benefits after all.

-

Yule festivities in Lettenhove are, mercifully, a mere matter of days. First there is the fitting for formal attire, which Geralt scowls through but Jaskier promises will be made up for with plenty of good food and wine. Then there are several deeply tedious aristocratic parties, which Jaskier sails through and Geralt spends mostly hiding in dark corners, as is his wont.

Occasionally, Jaskier will grab him by the hand and introduce him as, “Geralt, my husband-to-be,” and something funny will flip over in his stomach which will require several drinks to settle. When he returns to his dark corner he’ll find his heart pumping a little faster as his eyes track Jaskier flitting around the room. It’s probably just indigestion from all the rich food.

Then there is the formal family Yuletide dinner, a spectacularly awkward and singly unpleasant evening spent around a long, cold table with Jaskier’s mother and various cousins, who regard Geralt with expressions ranging from bland disinterest to active hostility. The food is heavy beyond measure and the conversation cruel and bland by turns.

They cover the need for raising taxes, the many failings of the servant class, and the petty squabbles over jewels and titles that seems to be the bread and butter of these people. With each hateful line, Geralt feels his blood rising. If it weren’t for Jaskier making pleading eyes at him, he’d take great pleasure in explaining some hard truths to them.

When a cousin begins expounding on useless lazy peasants in the estate, complaining that they can’t work because of plague, but we all know they’re simply idle, Geralt grits his teeth so hard that he swears the sound must be audible.

Beneath the table, Jaskier takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Staring down at their joined hands, Geralt detaches from these awful people and their awful conversation and focuses on the simple warmth of Jaskier’s fingers intertwined with his own.

-

They make their escape from dinner as soon as can be considered polite, and Geralt takes a second to lean against the door to their room, breathing deeply.

“You did well not to throttle anyone,” Jaskier says with a reassuring smile. “If we’d had to listen to cousin Edrick for a minute longer, I might have launched over the table with a carving knife myself.”

Geralt reaches for him without thinking, and once again Jaskier’s hand slips into his own. It’s grounding, to feel something genuine in this place surrounded by artifice.

“Come on,” Jaskier says. “Let’s get out of here.”

Geralt doesn’t even ask where they’re going before nodding.

-

They sneak away from the estate out of the servants’ door and follow a winding path toward a cluster of lights in the valley below. The path into Lettenhove town is quiet and calm, and as they walk the snow begins to fall in soft flurries, covering the ground in a peaceful white blanket.

The town looks picture perfect when they arrive, a charming jumble of thatched cottages and a small, cosy inn from which bright light spills out into the snowy night. When they enter the barmaid runs over to hug Jaskier and the proprietor slaps him on the back, and Jaskier has a kind word and a waved greeting for every person in there.

Geralt feels something unwind in his chest, something he hadn’t realised was tight and twisted until now. Seeing Jaskier in his element, among people who love him for who he is, instead of among that cold, hateful family, he feels right in a way he hasn’t for days.

Jaskier is already buying drinks and passing them around, and he excitedly waves Geralt over. “Bree, Geoffrey,” he addresses the couple behind the bar, “This is Geralt.” A shy smile sneaks over his face. “My fiancé.” The couple gasp in delight and congratulate Jaskier, then they’re embracing Geralt like old friends and pushing a drink into his hands.

“Come on, Geralt, join us!” Bree smiles warmly. “It’ll be the ten o’clock bells soon, and we must have Jaskier lead us in a song.”

The evening is a whirl of music and dance and loud, terrible singing, which the entire town seems to join in. For once there is no corner for Geralt to hide in, so he stays by Jaskier’s side, basking in the reflected glow of these people’s clear adoration of his bard.

-

When the midnight bell chimes and Geoffrey turns them all out for the night, the revelers wend their way home still singing and drinking. As the place empties out, Jaskier slides over to Bree to press a kiss to her cheek and a bulging purse into her hand. She tries to wave him off but Jaskier tucks the money behind the counter all the same, and Geralt watches, a deep wave of fondness sweeping through him.

The snow is still falling when they step out into the now-quiet street, soft, fat flakes drifting lazily from the sky and sticking in Jaskier’s hair. His cheeks are flushed pink and his hair falls in an messy sweep over his eyes; without thinking Geralt reaches out to brush it away behind his ear. Jaskier’s blush deepens as he does so, but he shivers in the cold.

“Here.” Geralt unclasps the thick cloak from around his neck and sweeps it over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier’s mouth forms a little o of surprise and he looks up at Geralt, something tender in his eyes.

Geralt’s gaze is caught by the snow flakes settling on Jaskier’s lashes; he’s so focused that he almost jumps when Jaskier reaches out to take his hand. The sky seems to glow with a soft orange light as the clouds reflect the last few fires in the town below; everything is warm with Jaskier’s hand in his despite the chill in the air.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says softly. “For being here with me.” And leaning in, his breath caressing over Geralt’s face, he touches his lips to Geralt’s cheek in a ghost of a kiss.

Suddenly it occurs to Geralt that this will be it, tomorrow they’ll head back on the path like none of this ever happened, no more holding hands or being close, no more being introduced as Jaskier’s betrothed. And despite the hellish parts of this experience he really doesn’t want it to end. He likes being Jaskier’s person, and he likes Jaskier being his.

They are still standing close together, mere inches between them, and it’s no effort at all to lean in, slowly, cautiously, to find Jaskier’s lips with his own, to place a tentative kiss there. And then Jaskier’s hands are fisting in his shirt and tugging him closer still, and his arms go around his waist and Jaskier is kissing him back like he’s been waiting for it, their mouths slotting together like they were made to fit each other, and everything is blazingly bright like the white of the snow.

When they pull apart they stay with foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, and Geralt can see a smile cracking wide over Jaskier’s face.

“I like being engaged to you,” Geralt says quietly, unable to keep it in.

Jaskier’s smile widens even further. “I like being engaged to you too,” he says. He kisses him again. “Fiancé.” Another kiss. “Husband to be.” And another. “Partner.” One more. “Beloved.”

“I like the sound of those.” He suspects he may be wearing the same dopey grin as Jaskier is.

“Then let’s make it official.” Jaskier bites his lip. “Marry me?”

Jaskier is a picture of perfection, eyes gleaming and cheeks ruddy, snowflakes in his hair. Geralt’s heart has always been right here.

“I’d be honoured.” He considers for a second. “But not in Lettenhove.”

Jaskier’s laugh sparkles with joy. “Anywhere but here.”

[irkallasblessed]

It kills me, fucken kills me how soft and gentle ereshkigal truly is in game, its the main take away when I attempt to write my girl.

She deep down loves and adores humanity as a whole even if she "hates" the living. She felt the weight of every soul she stole- as shown by how relieved she was, once she learned that her actions could be undone. She was happy enough to cry a goddess crying for souls of humans, she is mind you at that point what we are told time and time again is "evil".

This so called evil goddess who is desperate for any company, be it a friend or even just someone willing to lend a hand, but that yearning doesn’t extend the slightest bit towards her fellow gods who abandoned her or in her myths allowed her to be kidnapped thus pushing these duties on her.

AND AND IT'S BECAUSE OF THIS THAT SHE MAKES HER FIRST SELFISH CHOICE TO BE FOR ANOTHER.

HER FIRST SELFISH CHOICE THAT SHE MADE OUT OF HER FREE WILL IS FOR THIS SMALL HUMAN WHO DECIDED TO BEFRIEND HER !!

ereshkigal loved her humans to much , far to much that she to her bitter end gave everything she could give to save them.

And that leaves me thinking, THINKING ABOUT THAT ONE. one act of kindness, that isn’t even extraordinary, that didn’t even cater to her specifically, THINKING about how being spoken to as a friend was enough for Ereshkigal to sacrifice her authority and life and everything for the sake of the one person who looked at her and truly saw her.

Ereshkigal who is the fearsome earth mother, lady of the great below, queen of the underworld died among flowers that have never bloomed in her beloved underworld, in the arms of her sister who she hates, loves, admires.

Her last sight was a thing of beauty, something she could only dream about .

She died being loved.

The last thing she felt was loved, loved by her sister , loved by the human she saved, loved something she never had-

She died loved and she dosn't know that.

E...resh...kigal- my beloved

[whorefordazai]

“Us”

ft. Dazai x gn! reader

genre: comfort, fluff

warnings: suicidal themes (?)

word count: 2.2k

synopsis: even though it’s rare for him to express emotions, dazai’s having one of those days where he can’t help but really contemplate if there’s any value to living. The only difference, is that you’re there to give him the comfort he’s craved his whole life. 

Dazai softly exhaled through his nose, lazily grabbing the bottle of whiskey next to him. He brought it up to his lips, taking a long bitter swing. The taste burned his throat, he could practically feel the pungent liquid pouring into his stomach.

God, how he hated that bitter taste so much.

But there was something about that familiar taste, familiar swing of the bottle that comforted him in the emptiest way possible. A small chuckle left his lips. That sounds like something an alcoholic would say...

Was he falling again? He couldn’t fall. But then again, he had always been falling...even though no one could see...actually...Dazai was stuck. Stuck in mid air. There was something that wouldn’t let him fall.

And that something, was you.

“Dazai...?”

His body lay still for a moment—as if wanting to savor these few seconds of silence before he could talk to you. He let his head hang low, a small smirk playing on his lips. Messy brown bangs falling over his forehead, his hazel brown eyes took in your appearance.

“Sorry I was late, Dazai.” You walked into the room and put down the bag of groceries. “I had leftover paperwork to do, and I would’ve called you but my phone died.” You sheepishly scratched the back of your neck, hoping that Dazai wouldn’t be too disappointed.

But then again, he wouldn’t have shown it even if he was disappointed.

“It’s okay,” his lips pulled into a small smile. Shrugging off your coat, you put it to the side and knelt down to sit next to him on the futon.

The futon wasn’t that big, ever since you two started staying with each other—you didn’t really mind the lack of space.

Sitting next to him, you glanced out the big window. The sky was a mix of oranges and reds. The sun was setting. Shoulders brushing and his hand on your thigh, you turned to faced Dazai. Putting a gentle hand on his cheek, you placed a soft kiss on his lips, taking in his familiar scent.

His hands immediately snaked around your waist, pulling you closer. What seemed like minutes went by, and you finally pulled away. Dazai groaned. 

“Hey! I want more kisses. That wasn’t enough for all the lost time.” He fake pouted. You laughed, and kissed him once again. This time, the kiss was deeper.

Pulling away, your foreheads were only centimeters apart from each other when you looked into Dazai’s eyes. He had that amusing smile on his lips.

Your thumb brushed over his brow bone, caressing the skin around his eyes. “You’ve got that glassy look in your eyes again.” You whispered.

It was barely noticeable, but his face dropped for a millisecond. “Oh? What do you mean?” He chuckled.

You tilted your head, a little bit of hair falling over your face. “You’re drinking again.”

He gave smile—but you knew it was a tired one. “But I always drink. You have an issue with me drinking now?” His tone held no hostility to it, it felt more empty than anything.

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. “No, definitely not. I don’t have a problem.” You laughed. “Its just that we normally drink together. So I know you’re thinking about something when you’re drinking alone.”

He blinked a couple times, and you smiled again. You brought your finger up to his cheek, softly poking his skin. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything. It’s okay, we’re fine.”

Dazai inspected you for a minute. The small smile that tugged on your lips—oh that familiar smile. Your eyes always held that dreamy look in them. It held fierceness too. But it was also blank yet strikingly luminescent. As if you knew everything there was to know in this world, yet you also knew nothing.

Dazai couldn’t help but giggle in his head. You were definitely strange, something he’d never encountered in his entire life. But here he was, sitting next to the one person that was keeping him going.

He bit his lip. “I was just...thinking...”

You rested the side of your head on your knees, facing him. “Actually, I was thinking about some stuff too. I came to a realization.”

Realization? What were you thinking? Did you no longer want to be with him? A sudden race went through Dazai’s heart. You were the only person in the world who he couldn’t 100% predict. And that scared him. That tremendously scared him.

He nevertheless, smiled. “And what was that realization?”

You smiled back and buried you face in your knees, hugging them closely to your chest. Your voice came out muffled. “I can’t say it yet. I’ll have to process it for a few days.”

He raised an eyebrow. Studying your body language made it even more difficult to figure out what was going on in your head. You looked happy, giddy even. Hugging yourself, you looked like a tiny child with a sugar rush.

What were you so happy about? Was it because of him? Dazai couldn’t recall what he had done to make you like this—or if it was because of him in the first place.

He watched as you sat up and rested your head on his shoulder. He instinctively leaned into you. Your eyes kind of dropped—but it wasn’t the sad droop. It felt almost calming.

You intertwined both your hands and kissed his knuckles. Dazai would be lying if he said the tiny gesture didn’t make his stupid heart soar.

“Don’t worry, Dazai. It wasn’t a bad realization. It was a good one—a little scary—but it was a really good one.”

He hated that he released a breath when you clarified your thoughts. Releasing a breath—that meant he was scared to begin with.

“In that case, I’m glad. You look happy.” He softly said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head.

“Happy...I’m not sure it’s quite that. I feel...kind of...I can’t even explain it.” You chuckled, rubbing soft circles on Dazai’s knuckles with your thumb.

He was still for a moment, studying you again. But then he gave up. An amused chuckle left his mouth. There was no use trying to study you right now. He dismissed the thought and looked back up at the sunset.

This was enough for him. Just being in each other’s arms, eating crabs, and falling asleep in that rusty old futon that neither of you bothered to change—that was enough for him.

“Say...Dazai. You once asked me if there’s any real value to living.”

He froze. Why had you brought that up now? His mind raced with countless possibilities.

He leaned his head against yours. Caressing your hand in his, he inhaled. For once, he didn’t feel scared. He didn’t feel violated. He didn’t feel as though your eyes were piercing into his thoughts. He felt...at peace.

“And...? Do you think there’s really any value to this thing we called living?”

“Of course not.”

His eyes darted, glancing at you. To his surprise, you looked perfectly normal. Perfectly at peace. In fact, if your eyes weren’t closed he would’ve seen that mischievous glint in them. 

Your voice spoke out like silk running through coarse hands. “There’s no actual value to living. Everything we do in this life could mean nothing wherever we end up. Whether it be the after life, or the fucking end of a simulation.”

Your words felt like a bullet stuck in his heart. Of course you were right. But he had never expected you to say that. He turned his head to face you. “So? If there’s no value to living then why are you still alive, y/n? We could both easily die in a double suicide—“

Oh.

He cut off his own words. Why did he say that? It sounded too harsh. It sounded too real. Too real for him. Of course, he’d jokingly asked you to commit suicide with him plenty of times before. But this time, it felt different. Although, letting out those words made him feel a little comfort—and he hated that. He looked down at you, your eyes were half lidded. The ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

What had he done? He wasn’t supposed to say that. Odasaku wouldn’t have liked that. Odasaku would’ve said “I reckon that’s something you don’t say to your lover, Dazai.”

He was right. That’s definitely not something you say to the person you love. He fucked up. But then again, you weren’t any ordinary person. If you were ordinary then Dazai would’ve never batted an eye lash at you in the first place. 

“I’m still alive...I’m still living for...” you began to say. You turned your head to face him. Your eyes squeezed a little when you smiled. Hands placing themselves on Dazai’s cheeks, you began to caress his soft skin.

Oh.

He felt his heart physically sink again, if that was even possible. He knew what you were going to say. It was painfully obvious with the way you were holding his face with feather-like touches. The way your eyes held so much warmth when you looked at him. He didn’t deserve it. And neither did you. 

Dazai couldn’t take it. He knew you would say “Dazai...I’m living for you.” And if you said that, he didn’t think his heart would be able to take it. It would hurt too damn much. Goddamn it, why did you ever get yourself involved with someone like him? He wanted to scream out “You deserve someone so much better!” but his throat was dry. Instead, he gulped. His voice wavered a little. Quiet and unable to sound calm. 

“Don’t. Don’t say that you’re living for me.”

The warmth in your eyes didn’t leave, instead confusion was added. You tilted your head, and softly smiled. “I’m not living for you, Dazai.”

Oh.

He didn’t expect you to flat out say that. But it’s what he wanted, right? He was even more confused than before. Part of him...part of him was selfish for wanting you to say you were living for him. Because it was cliche. It was perfectly predictable and safe enough for Dazai to maneuver around.

It wasn’t even for a narcissistic reason. He was expecting it—but you had said the complete opposite. But it’s what he wanted, right? So why did he feel his heart sink again?

This is selfish. Odasaku would be disappointed. He wanted you all to himself...and that was selfish. But then again, Dazai was a selfish man—or so that’s what he thought of himself. How could an angel like you ever love a devil like him?

“Dazai....yoohoo.” you waved a hand in front of his face. When he snapped out of his trance, you chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you, silly. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Let me finish.”

He slowly nodded, eyes coming back into focus. You grasped his hand tighter.

“I...I’m not living for you. But I’m not living for myself either.”

He raised an eyebrow. His voice was smooth while he caressed your hair. “So then. What are you living for, darling?”

“Us. I’m living for us.”

Oh...

He thought his heart would sink like the last few times. But strangely enough...it didn’t. Instead, he felt his body tingle and his head spin from the buzz he was feeling. It felt euphoric.

“But that contradicts what you said...” his voice held curiosity. “You agreed that there’s no value to living.”

You suddenly grinned, moving up to sit on Dazai’s lap, almost straddling him. His hands immediately went to your waist. Grabbing his face, you kissed his lips. Dazai felt you smile into the kiss, and he did as well.

“But Dazai...” you smiled breathlessly, pulling away for air. “How do we know there’s no value to living if we haven’t lived at all?”

His mouth was a little open, eyes slightly wide. You were...you were definitely something he’d never faced in his life. You were something else. You made him feel...feel.

“So, tell me. Have you lived yet?”

You smirked. “Fuck no...I’ve been alive for so many years, yet I haven’t lived at all.” Your thumb brushed his bottom lip, which send shivers down Dazai’s spine. You seemed to draw out the last few words. “But...I think I’m starting to.”

“Y/n...” Dazai whispered. His eyes seemed to lit up. This all felt so good. It felt dangerously real. But so good.

“Dazai...” you smiled. “I love you...”

Dazai smiled again. This wasn’t the first time you both said “I love you” to each other.

You continued. “For the first time in my life...I love you not because I feel like I have to—but because I want to.”

His eyes slightly widened. Was this really happening? Or was this some dream mixed with a sick joke?

No. It was real.

Dazai knew it was real because he felt his fingers slightly shake on your waist. You smiled, leaning back down to kiss him. You placed your hands over his and stopped the shaking. His arms wrapped all the way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You hands snaked behind his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Us...say that again. I like that.” Dazai breathed out, pulling back. This was really happening. He was—he was so lucky. How the fuck did he get so lucky?

Odasaku would’ve been...proud.

You smiled, nodding. You observed his eyes. They were still glassy—but there was something different about them. Something nice. Something you would give your whole life to see over and over again. Something you would like to live for.

“Us.”

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