#he can read again and again how much she always loved him

[darnell-la]

𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗚𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧

pairing: old man!logan howlett x young female!reader

warnings: staring, rude people in public, Logan with no emotion, begging, oral (male receiving), riding, doggy, neck kisses, slightly forced cream pie, multiple orgasm, moans from both sides, very rough sex, angry animalistic Logan, etc.

request: Hi! I love your work, Could I request Oldman!Logan x young fem!reader (22 years) that has a baby fever and really wants to have Logan's baby (also to shut the mouths of those who make fun of her dating an older man), she decides to prepare a surprise for him so that he can get her pregnant soon. Reader is needy and Logan is rude.

note: Logan as always is mean and an over-thinker, but he can’t seem to not give what his perfect girl wants. A breeding session.

teaser - Logan gets kinda subby in here. can’t stop cumming…

———

How do you guys feel about an X-Men story with the reader? Logan is rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“Stop gettin’ in your feelings, Bub. They ain’t gon stop,” Logan said, talking about the people looking their way in the expensive restaurant Logan decided to take y/n out at.

“But, isn’t it rude? Why do they care so much about who I’m with? Or who you’re with!?” Y/n tried whispering and keeping her facial expressions normal. She didn’t want them to know she was bothered, but it wasn’t hard to see.

“Just relax, Bub — Ain’t nun gon happen with a few eyes lookin’ attcha,” Logan had picked up the menu to continue searching through what he wanted to order for himself and his girl.

“Are you two ready, or shall you get more time?” The man asked in an accent that made Logan roll his eyes. “Just appetizers for now. Gonna get the cheese bites with a side of marinara sauce, and two Caesar salads,”

“And drinks?” The waiter asked as he looked at y/n, wanting to hear the young lady talk as he was done listening to the older grumpy man.

“I’ll have a whiskey, no ice, and she’ll have water for now,” Logan ordered for her, eyes still on the menu as y/n faked a bright smile on her face so at least one of them looked like they wanted to be here.

“Are you sure that’s all you want? We have a lot of cocktails. Even mocktails if you’re not feeling alcohol going lady,” Logan laughed at the small sign the water gave. They always go.

“She’s fine, trust me,” Logan said, leaning his girl from head to toe. He knew her like a book. He knew her life at the back of his hands. He loved showing it too.

“I’m fine, thank you,” y/n smiled at the man as he looked at Logan. He wanted to speak, say something, but he couldn’t. Logan wasn’t actually doing anything to make the man complain.

“Get a load of that guy,” y/n rolled her eyes as he walked off. “Yep,” Logan said, not really caring. “Why are you always so calm? He was disrespecting us. Disrespecting you,” y/n said, confused about why the man never cared.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? You’re making it seem like that fetus of a man shot at me,” y/n rolled her eyes and sat back as she crossed her arms, upset at the lack of care Logan had. She felt like she was the only one who cared about things.

Throughout the night, Logan made small talk with y/n to ease her mood. She tried to stay upset at the man, but the hand grabs, foot nudges, and complements made her melt

“Said you had a surprise for me, Bub?” Logan asked as the two made it into the hotel that Logan bought for the night. The top floor had a good view, a view he knew y/n would love.

“Yeah, but I thought we were going back to the house,” y/n pouted, a bit tipsy as Logan carried her through the door. “I know, and I apologize, princess. If you left it at the house, you can give it to me tomorrow. Or I can go get it now?” Logan suggested.

“No, no, you don’t have to do all that. I-I got it. I got it,” Y/n said as she kicked her heels off and walked towards the bed with Logan.

He had a few drinks, but that never affected him. She prayed it would tonight so she wouldn’t have to work hard, but she’ll deal with it.

Y/n knows Logan’s a hard one to crack, but the man loved her. He’s so anything for her, so a long session of begging or anything of that sort, would make him crack. Only for her.

“Get comfortable — I’ll be back,” Y/n said as she stumbled to the bathroom. Logan chuckled as he got undressed, already knowing y/n wanted to have sex. She always does, and he never says no.

Y/n didn’t take long to get stripped and walk out of the bathroom slowly. The lights were dim, and Logan sat up against the headboard of the bed, legs spread and waiting for his perfect girl.

“I-I know you’re against it, and I know you always shut me down, but tonight is special. I-I really, really want you tonight,” Y/n said, slowly crawling on the bed as Logan’s chest rose.

“You always get me, Bub, so what’s there to beg about?” Logan said as he rubbed his thighs. “I want you to cum in me,” y/n looked at him with those eyes he could barely say no to.

“Y/n, don’t start tonight. Ian tryna ruin the night,” Logan has rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Baby, please,” y/n begged, trailing her hands up his legs until they were mid-thigh.

“Keep beggin’ for that shit, and ima turn around and go to sleep,” Logan warned the girl, but she ignored him and put his cock in her hand. “C’mon, daddy, please,” y/n said, bringing out the word she used in once in a blue moon.

“Nah uh, get off, y/n. I told you what was gonna happen-“ Before he could finish, y/n wrapped her wet mouth around his tip, sucking down hard as her tongue moved up and down his slit.

“F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs shook as he gripped the sheets. “Y/n, remove your fucking mouth,” Logan demanded, but she ignored him, looking into his angry dark eyes as she slipped down onto his cock, taking all the inches in that she could.

“Y-Y/n!” The man groaned loudly, hips bucking as his hand went to her hair, pulling her up to get her off, but not strong enough. He was physically stronger than her, so she knew if he wanted her off, he’d get her off.

“Fuckin- Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ bad,” Logan said as his other hand cupped her cheek. “But you take my cock so well,” Logan admitted with a chuckle as he slowly began moving her head at a pace he wanted her to suck in.

“Always so fuckin’ needy — Needy little slut can’t just enjoy my cock. Always needs my cum to satisfy her,” Logan said, now moving his hips, allowing his cock to thrust up into her throat.

“That’s it, kid — Fuckin’ suck me up since you want it so bad. You ain’t gettin’ it in that cunt. You ain’t earn it yet,” Logan said, watching spit spill from her mouth.

Y/n did her best to look up and into his eyes. Her was glossy, streaming tears as he grew dark. He couldn’t hold back his deep groan at the sight of her taking his cock like this.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” Logan said, getting angry at her. He hated how bad she was, but loved that she’d do anything to get what she wanted from him.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Logan growled, snapping his hips faster to make her gag and cough on his cock. Maybe if she was too busy trying to focus on taking him, she’d stop silently begging for him to breed her.

It’s not like the man didn’t want to. He was just insecure. Yeah, he and y/n had been dating for a while, but the people roaming about are right. At least that’s what he thought at the time.

What if he is too old for her? He’d basically be baby-trapping her if he gave her what she wanted. He swore she’d regret it.

He forced himself to think that way, but every time y/n took his cock, rather that was with her mouth, cunt, ass, or anything, she’s beg him to breed her. Something in him knew she wanted it, but the other part held him back.

“Fuck, y/n, stop it! Stop fucking looking at me like that!” Logan shouted at the girl, an animalistic tone slipping out as he fucked her throat.

Y/n didn’t stop. She continued, whether her eyes could barely stay on him or not, she kept looking up at him, begging him to breed her.

“Y/n, I can’t — I fucking can’t,” the man had thrown his head back, whining as he felt himself near. He’s me we did that before, but him trying to yell her no but also seeing her beg, was too much for him. He was overstimulated by his thoughts.

Y/n slapped Logan’s hands off of him and quickly crawled onto him. She grabbed his cock and aligned herself with him before sitting down.

The moan that escaped her mouth made his eyes widen. “F-Fuck, kid, stop it!” Logan said, but his hands came to her waist and kept her in place. She tried to bounce, but he didn’t even allow her to do that.

Logan’s feel curled as his fingernails dug into her sides, causing her to feel in pain, but also pleasure. “Do it, daddy, please,” was all had to say on his cock before he jumped over the edge.

Logan’s mouth parted as his whole body stuttered. No noises came from his mouth for a second as y/n felt his warm seed coat her walls.

“Yes! Yes, daddy, yes!” Y/n cried out with happiness before she buried her face into the crook of his neck, sucking into his skin hard. That pulled all of his groans and moans out.

Logan’s hands wrapped around the girl's back and waist, pulling her into his body as she grinned against his pelvis, letting her swollen bud feel all the affection it needed.

“Please, more, Logan. Please. Please,” y/n continued rubbing against him as her whole body felt numb. She was going to cum, and Logan knew it. Damn her.

“Fuck, kid — F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs kicked as he tried keeping himself in, but he couldn’t. She squeezed him so hard for him not to do what she’d been begging for, for the longest.

“Y/n,” Logan’s voice cracked as his nails broke the skin on the young girl's back and waist. “Yes, yes!” Y/n almost cried as her body kicked up and she came, sucking the man too hard. To damn hard.

Logan’s mouth parted once again as his eyes crossed, feeling too much pleasure as he spilled into y/n for the second time and took the love bites y/n gave him on his neck.

Logan was pissed. He was so damn pissed at y/n for not listening to him. He wanted to punish her, but how? How could he after he bred her? He wouldn’t be able to pull out. And fuck a condom. He was fucked. He broke the promise he kept to himself. He really fucking loves her to let her do this to him.

“You’re so fuckin’ bad, y/n,” Logan breathed out into y/n’s ear, alarming her. He wasn’t relaxed. He was angry. “You like gettin’ what you want?” The man asked as he slowly lifted y/n off of him. She was being held in the air.

“Then ima give you what you fucking want,” before y/n knew what he meant, the man flipped the two, allowing him to hover over her.

“S-Sorry, I just- I really needed you. I-I love you so much, and I-I — I want you to give me a baby. I-If you don’t want it, I-I’ll just take the plan b tomorrow. I promise,” y/n couldn’t stop stuttering.

She felt a slight fear. She knew how Logan got, and now that he’d already come in her, he’d be worse.

“Fuck that plan b. You wanna baby? Then deal with the fucking consequences,” Logan turned y/n around and forced her onto her hands and knees. Before she could process anything, he plunged into her.

“Fuuck!” Y/n screamed at the new angle and the hard thrust. “Shut the fuck up, and take it,” the man groaned as a hand came down on her ass. “Take my fuckin’ kid, since you wasn’t em so damn bad,” he added.

Y/n cried into the sheets, thinking he couldn’t fuck her hard until his claws came out. He’d never done this before, but she knew what he was up to.

The man’s claws punched into the wall right in front of the two. He gripped tightly, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere before he pounded her into the mattress.

The young girl's neck and back belt pain. He was breaking her and didn’t care. She wanted this.

“Lot,” y/n whined, not being able to say what she had to say. She was beyond fucked. “Don’t worry, Bub — You’re gonna make a damn good mom,” Logan said, making sure she knew he was up for this.

Y/n slightly smiled as her cunt quivered, finally letting out another orgasm as her eyes closed. “S-So good,” she said as she slipped away. “I know, baby — I know,” the man growled.

Logan never stopped his thrust, making sure she’d feel the soreness when she woke up. And the loads he was going to leave in her.

[calisturniolo]

☆ IF THE WORLD WAS ENDING I’D WANNA BE NEXT TO YOU

summary. . . cute things matt does in a relationship

warnings. . . mentions of slight insecurity

a/n. . . i was on the plane and thought of this so wrote it down in my notes app and im now writing it while waiting on my second plane and this song has been stuck in my head for weeks now. also i didn’t proof read this because i was rushing to get on my flight but i wanted to post it now

𝜗𝜚 ALWAYS HAS TO BE CUDDLING YOU WHILE SLEEPING, NO MATTER WHAT.

you finish your small skincare routine and put on your pyjamas before climbing into matt’s cozy bed, snuggling into the covers as you get tucked up under them.

matt follows right behind you, climbing into the warm bed. he immediately pulls you flush against him, wrapping his strong arms around your waist with his chest to your back.

you let out a content sigh as you feel his body relax into yours, you place your hands over his hand that is draped over your exposed stomach.

he nuzzles his head into your neck and lets out an equally content sound, his breath warm against your skin. his arms wrap even tighter around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“you just gotta be cuddling me, don’t ya?” you giggle out as you close your eyes, trying to fall into a deep sleep.

matt chuckles lightly against your shoulder, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. he pulls you even closer to him, his warm chest pressing firmly against your back.

“mhm you know it” he whispers out, leaving a kiss on your neck.

𝜗𝜚 HE ALWAYS WANTS TO LISTEN TO YOU, EVEN WHEN YOU THINK YOURE TALKING TOO MUCH

you had been talking matt’s ear off for the past hour about someone in your college — you didn’t even think about how bored matt must be, listening to you talking about the same topic for over an hour.

“then she said to me-“ you stop yourself as you check the time and realise how much you had spoke, you looked up at matt and saw he still had the same smile of adoration sitting on his face as he did an hour ago, “did i ramble on again…sorry” you awkwardly say, scratching the back of your neck.

matt chuckled softly at your comment, his eyes sparkling with love as he looked at you. he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, his thumb rubbing circles against the back of your hand.

“don’t be sorry” he said with a warm smile, “i could listen to you talk for hours.”

a huge smile came onto your face at matt’s sweet compliment but insecurity quickly taking over you, “you sure… you sure i’m not talking your ears off? i know i yap on and on all the time… but you’re sure?” you ask with a hint of insecurity in your voice.

matt’s heart softened at the hint of insecurity in your voice. he gently pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as you laid on his shoulder in a comforting embrace.

“i’m absolutely sure.” he reassured you, his voice firm yet tender. “i love hearing about your day, about things you love, about anything and everything. it’s a part of who you are, and i love every bit of it.” he gave you a gentle squeeze before leaning forward to look into your eyes with complete sincerity.

𝜗𝜚 ALWAYS SURPRISES YOU WITH FLOWERS

he knows they’re your favourite and always makes sure to pick out the prettiest bunch. he gives you them before dates too, just so he can admire the way your face lights up when he gives you them.

at the moment, matt was out with nick and chris at a meeting. you were bored so you texted him just to see what he was up too.

| hey baby! where are youuuu? also see if you pass gas station on your way home could you pleaseee get me a blue slurpee????

you pressed send and waited for a reply. you weren’t expecting a reply straight away since he was at a meeting.

matt sees his phone light up with a text notification — once he saw it was from you, a smile lit up his face. the meeting he was just in was boring, your simple check-up made him feel better.

| heyyy we’re just leaving, don’t worry i’ll get you aslurpee. see you soon, i love you

matt sets his phone down in the cup holder after hitting send on his text. his attention goes back to the road as he turns in at 7-eleven to get you a slurpee and flowers.

he walks into the gas station and picks up a bunch of baby breaths and tulips for you, he then gets your blue slurpee, before he leaves he grabs a few bags of your favourite candies and paying, walking out the store and back to his car.

he hands the flowers over to chris and the bags of candies, sitting the slushie in the cup holder before driving off back home. he’s excited to get home and see the look on your face when he gives you the flowers.

he walks inside his bedroom, shutting the door with his foot as he has flowers and candy in one hand and the slurpee in the other, “hey baby, i’m back” he says walking to the desk and putting all the things he bought at the store down.

“oh my god… hey, you’re back” you say, putting down your phone and getting off his bed as you walk into his open arms.

he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. he can’t help but bury his face against your neck, leaving light kisses there.

you felt shivers down your spine as he left kisses on your skin, “how was your meeting?” you asked.

“boring” he mumbled against your neck, still peppering light kisses there, “i missed you” he added quietly, nuzzling closer.

you let out a small giggle but your heart swelled at his comment, “matt, baby, you saw me before you left this morning” you said pulling back from him.

“i know… also i got you a present.” he said walking back over to the desk and picking up the flowers and your slurpee.

your eyes light up as you see the bunch of flowers in his hand and the blue slushy, “matt..they’re beautiful. thank you so much, i love you” you say as he holds the flowers out for you with a smile.

you take hold of the flowers, you admire them with the cheesiest smile on your face.

matt loved buying you flowers, it was his favourite thing to do.

𝜗𝜚 ALWAYS TAKING PHOTOS OF YOU WHEN YOURE NOT LOOKING BECAUSE HE THINKS YOU LOOK SO CUTE

you and matt are sat on the sofa, a little space between you two. you were sitting with your knees up as your phone leaned against your thigh, your hoodie pulled up to your chin. you were scrolling on pinterest and adding photos to your boards, you were in your own little world until you heard matt let out a giggle.

you looked over at him as he looked over at you before talking, “look at this cute picture i took of you when you weren’t looking! it’s so cute, you’re adorable” matt gushed with a smile over his face as he turns his phone towards you to show you the photo.

you squint your eyes slightly to get a better look at the photo but when you get a full view of it, your face turns to a deadpan expression. you don’t see the cuteness matt was talking about, all you saw were flaws.

your messy hair, the unflattering angle, your glasses sitting lob sided on your nose, your bare face with no makeup, and the big pimple on your forehead.

“dude. be so for real, that photo is fucking horrible” you say leaning back to your original position but still looking at matt as he turns his phone back round and admiring the photo.

he playfully kicks your leg with his foot as he giggles, “hey! i thought you looked really cute in this picture, why’re you so negative?” he tilted his head, a curious look in his eyes.

you squinted your eyes and quirked an eyebrow at his reply but you felt butterflies in your stomach as he still complimented you, “no matt! look at my hair, it’s a mess, you can see my double chin, my glasses are lop sided, and look at that fat pimple on my forehead! and i have no makeup on. i actually feel disgusted looking at that right now”

he rolls his eyes, “okay fine, your hair isn’t perfect. your glasses are slightly lop sided, i didn’t even notice the pimple and you look amazing without makeup! why would you be so disgusted at the picture you? you look so cute in it.” he glances between the picture and your face, genuinely not understanding what’s so bad about it.

you jokingly roll your eyes at his obliviousness, “it’s ugly as shit, i just look bad. that’s why im disgusted.” you giggled out.

matt sighs. he doesn’t believe you for a second, “i’ve seriously never thought you looked bad! you’re so pretty, and this picture does not change it one bit” he grins and pokes your cheek and moves your glasses up your nose slightly, “it’s a cute picture and you’re a cute person. get over it”

you lean your head back on the back of the sofa with a smile on your face, “fine, i give up. you win.” you say leaning your head on his shoulder, he leans his head to the side and kiss your forehead.

[ghost-proofbaby]

september love (e.m.)

eddie finds you awake on the first night he's home from the hospital, and wonders what you're thinking.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of canon ending of season 4, except eddie didn't die. mentions of hospital and medical procedures (in passing). sort of sad, sort of not. a little bit of angst? hurt/comfort. religious imagery (specific mentions of heaven).

wc: 1.7k+

an: this was just some sort of weird rambling upon seeing the poem mentioned above at like 11 pm? 1 am? who knows. time is a construct. also, reader is compared to a 'violent' dog/animal during eddie's recovery, and if you like this metaphor/vibe, then i strongly suggest and urge you to go read @myosotisa's fic Half Life. she does it far more beautifully than i ever could, and it is one of my favorite fics. ever.

Your head is on his chest. 

Your temple and your ear are flush with the soft cotton of his wrinkled t-shirt, the one he insisted upon sleeping on his first night home, and it’s all you can think about. The smell of week old laundry, the stubborn linger of a cologne gifted too long ago to remember the worn name of. A steady heartbeat that still pumps along a little too slow for your liking. The rise and fall of each promised breath that you force your lungs to pace themselves with. Just enough heat radiating off of him to keep you warm, here in bed, here in the dim light of twilight as he rests.

No tubes and no IVs to worry about. No nurses barging in every ten minutes. No beeping of a dozen machines to be your symphony tonight. 

No, you don’t need a machine now to keep track of his heart rate. You’ve learned to do that entirely on your own; your heart has learned how to match his with each dulled thump against the skin you cling to through this dingy old t-shirt.

It can’t be long after 3 AM, the moonlight almost as bright as a rising sun as it peeks itself in through the curtains of the window, as if whispering to check if you might still be awake.

And you are. And all you can think about, is your head on his chest. 

It’s been over a month since you’ve had this type of moment with Eddie. A moment where you’re truly, sincerely, utterly alone with him. Privacy had become a delicacy that you weren’t aware of the fragility of. You hadn’t understood its importance until you had to bask in its absence, always on edge for the next body to walk into the room and take the air out of your lungs. Always anxious for the next sound of news, always worried for the next shoe to drop. 

You’d forgotten what it had felt like for Eddie to twitch his fingers along your spine in his sleep, and for you to be the only witness to his quiet worship, even unconscious. 

Your lips part, and you almost consider whispering hard truths into the trembling night air. There’s a million and one dying words cementing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, and you know that every single one you could even manage to utter would only make you sound like a broken record. 

I’m sorry this happened to you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent it. 

All things already said to him when he had been drifting in and out of consciousness in that hospital bed. All apologies already buried between muted sobs as you’d clutched his knuckles a little tighter than you should have, a little too selfish in the moment to wonder if it might be hurting him. The only thing on your mind had been keeping him, holding him, feeling him. He was alive – he was alive. And for the first seven nights of his endless rest, all you could wonder is for just how much longer that desperate prayer could ring true.

Would he leave you again? Would he lose the fight? 

You can’t recall without bias which one of you had been the true wounded animal in that little room, scented with burning bleach and cacophonies of nearby patients just beyond the curtains. 

Eddie, looking up at the police who had finally come once he woke, eyes big and teary as he’d tried to wrap his head around his new reality.

You, baring teeth and claws at them in the end, ready to bite hard at anyone who got too close.

It wasn’t just the police. It was everyone. 

It was the same juxtaposition between the two of you at those nurses who would interrupt the nights, always frowning so dutifully at the sight of your carefully curled figure at Eddie’s side. When friends and family came to visit, and they all had the same look of disbelief. As if they were about to tell you that you had imagined it all; he hadn’t survived, he hadn’t come back to you, you were imagining it. You’d been all bark and awaiting bite towards Steve Harrington and the newly revived Jim Hopper, all the same. Their figures bore no difference to you when it came to protecting what was so holy to you. Him, Eddie, here and alive. Eddie, who slept enough for the both of you those nights. The pain in your back from all the uncomfortable hours spent in that little chair at his bedside was insignificant, all the headaches you’d endured from the smell of iodine that still clung to the air after every surgery were pitiful attempts at the Universe removing you from him. 

If you could, you might try to recall your reaction when Dustin Henderson had babbled on through tears as to what had happened to Eddie when the two were left alone. His final act of heroism, or so he thought. 

But you can’t. Right here, right now, you aren’t capable of living in the past. You’ve been haunted enough these last few weeks, and all your numb mind can handle is counting the beats of his heart. Like the rhythm of a song – 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Staccato verses that you sometimes whisper in time, getting worried when they don’t follow the infallible metronome you’ve set for him. 

“You’re still awake.”

The murmur of his voice is a drink of cold water, startling in the dark greys and blues wrapping the two of you up. 

You lift your head ever so slightly against your better judgment, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“Touche.” 

You can see his grin even through the shadows. It’s weak, not yet quite as vibrant as it once had been, but it’s there. He’s still alive. He’s still grinning. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The pads of his fingertips are more intentional against your spine now, longer strokes and mindless shapes, “I’ve got a penny in my pocket if you tell me.”

His words are only slightly slurred. Probably residual of the pain medication they’d prescribed him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” you say, and you mean it.

You hadn’t been thinking. You had just been listening to his heart and his breaths, feeling the weight of him beneath you. 

Little things you had taken for granted once upon a time. Never again, your soul aches as you let your head drop back to his chest carefully. Never again.

“You’re just laying awake, not thinking about anything, at…” he trails off, turning his cheek and squinting in the direction of the alarm clock across the room. The glow is dim, and you know you’ll have to change the batteries soon, “Four in the morning?”

4 AM. Last you had checked, it had been 3 AM. You hadn’t even noticed an hour had passed. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” you smile up at him, and it’s just as sincere as your words had been. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, warmth drizzles down your entire being. Across your brain, down your spine, wrapping around your limbs. You could spend an eternity here, simmering in his warmth, content to your heart’s fullest capability. 

You’d almost lost him. You’d almost lost this warmth. 

You take a second to memorize his features. Studying him as if you didn’t already know every curvature, every freckle, every winkle better than you knew your own soul. You’re looking at him as if you may never look at him again, and he can tell. 

He doesn’t have to say that he gets it. His hand simply wanders up to cup your face, basking in you as you were him. Two souls, intertwining over overlapping legs and synchronized heartbeats, and he doesn’t have to say a word. 

The moment his fingers card into your baby hairs, you’re turning your mouth quickly to that warm palm. One, two, three kisses. Quick pecks, rapid succession. A secret language that you know he, and only ever he, can begin to understand. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

It drowns out all sorrow, all guilt, all hauntings. Your cracked lips, and the feeling of those lines across his palms. If there is a Heaven, it’s not somewhere in a pearly gated kingdom above. There are no hark angels and there is no bearded man awaiting. 

It’s here. It’s now. It’s 4 AM, in bed with your lover, getting to experience moments you’d come so close to losing for eternity. 

Do the poets know? They must. All the love, all the adoration, in both your bodies is too abundant for them to not feel it. To not write about it. 

“Go back to bed, love,” you repeat almost a perfect imitation of your first command when he had awakened, and this time, his eyelids flutter with your words, “I’m not gonna disappear between now and sunrise. I promise.” 

“No,” he quickly whispers back as his eyes fully shut, and your palms smooth out the wrinkles of the shirt to feel the ridges of scars hidden for now. Scars he’s ashamed of, for now. Scars you’d one day show all the love in the world to, sacred proof that he came back to you, only once he was ready. One day. “But you’re looking at me like I might.”

His words are heavy in the shades of violet now sinking into the room. But the moon is high in her sky, and the crickets are chirping to the East, and he’s right.

You’re terrified the daylight will steal him from you. You’re terrified the new day might tear away all that you’ve sunk your teeth into. 

“I’m not going to,” he mumbles around a yawn, arms slowly encasing you, pulling you in closer, “I’m not going anywhere. Yeah?” 

He’s back with that warmth, coaxing you right back into heavenly notions with him. You let him; he baits you, and you follow. 

“Yeah.”

It’s a sigh. Of hopefulness, of relief, of belief. 

This time, the I love you is more than a prayer repeated in your mind. And he somehow manages to say it back, just as he begins to slip back under. Still holding you and hands still twitching where they rest against your back. 

Let daylight come. You aren’t capable of worrying about it, or stressing about all that has happened. You aren’t capable of thinking about anything right now, because only one thing matters as your temple and ear find his heartbeat once more. 

Your head is on his chest.

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[geotjwrs]

Hey is it possible if you could do Jenna x male reader based off the song Dark Red by Steve Lacy? Thank you

only you babe

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The faint sound of music hummed in the background, barely loud enough to be heard over the quiet tension in the room. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, his phone clutched in his hand, his eyes staring blankly at the screen. It had been an hour since Jenna had texted, and her silence felt louder than anything else in his life right now.

"I think you know that I miss you…"

The lyrics echoed in his mind, but all he could focus on was the gnawing feeling in his gut—the one that told him something was wrong. He hadn’t heard from her since their last conversation, and now every passing second felt like a countdown to something he didn’t want to face.

He stood up, pacing the small apartment. He’d always had this fear, deep down, that Jenna might slip away. That one day, she would realize she didn’t need him. And lately, that fear had started to feel more real. The way she’d been distant, the way her messages came less frequently, it all pointed to something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Something bad is ’bout to happen to me…"

The words from the song buzzed in his head, like a warning he couldn’t ignore.

Y/N ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on him. He knew he should call her, talk to her, ask her what was really going on. But every time he thought about it, that voice in the back of his mind whispered, What if she’s done? What if you push her away?

Just as he was about to give in to the anxiety, his phone buzzed. A message.

Jenna: “Can we talk?”

Y/N’s heart dropped. He stared at the screen, his hands shaking slightly. Those words—“Can we talk?”—were never a good sign. He could feel the blood draining from his face, and the room suddenly felt too small, too hot.

He sat down again, his mind racing with every possible worst-case scenario. She was leaving, wasn’t she? She had found someone else, or maybe she had finally gotten tired of him. Y/N’s thoughts spiraled out of control, and before he could stop himself, he typed out a response.

Y/N: “Is everything okay?”

The seconds stretched into minutes, and still no response. Y/N stood up again, pacing even faster now, his palms sweaty as he waited for her reply. He couldn’t breathe. His mind was clouded with every possible thing that could go wrong.

"I think I’m losin’ it…"

He looked around the apartment, his gaze falling on the little things that reminded him of her. The jacket she’d left hanging on the back of his chair. The coffee mug she always used. The picture of the two of them sitting on the shelf, smiling like nothing in the world could ever come between them.

But now, Y/N wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t been sure for a while, and it scared him more than anything.

Finally, his phone buzzed again. He snatched it up, his heart pounding in his chest as he read her message.

Jenna: “Yeah, but… I just feel like things have been off between us lately.”

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a lump form in his throat. He had known this was coming. He had felt it in every silence, in every missed call, in every time she had looked at him like she was seeing someone else. But hearing her say it, seeing it in black and white on his screen, made it real.

Y/N: “I know… I’ve felt it too.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to tell her how scared he was, how much he loved her, how the thought of losing her made him feel like he was drowning. But he didn’t. Instead, he just waited, feeling like the walls were closing in around him.

An hour later, Jenna showed up at his door. She stood there, her arms crossed, looking at him with those dark eyes that had always been able to read him like a book. There was something different in them tonight, though—something he couldn’t quite place.

Y/N stepped aside, letting her in. They hadn’t talked in person for a couple of days, and the air between them felt heavy, loaded with everything left unsaid.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice almost fragile as she walked past him.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, his throat tight. He closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a second before following her into the living room.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the space between them feeling much bigger than it had ever felt before. Y/N fidgeted with his hands, trying to come up with something to say, but his mind was blank.

Jenna looked at him, her expression soft but serious. “Y/N… I don’t know what’s been going on with us lately. But I can’t shake this feeling that something’s wrong.”

Y/N swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to tell her everything—about how terrified he was of losing her, how he’d been feeling this weight of uncertainty pressing down on him for weeks. But instead, he just nodded, afraid that if he said the wrong thing, he’d make everything worse.

“Me too,” he finally managed to say. “I’ve felt it too.”

Jenna sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t want us to fall apart, Y/N. But lately, it feels like we’re not even on the same page anymore. Like we’re both just waiting for something bad to happen.”

Y/N’s heart sank. That was exactly how he had been feeling. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to say she was done with him. He hadn’t realized she was feeling the same way.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N said, his voice cracking slightly. He hated how vulnerable he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. This was Jenna, the girl he had loved for longer than he could remember, and the thought of her walking out of his life was unbearable.

Jenna’s eyes softened at his words. She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we need to figure this out, Y/N. We can’t keep going on like this, pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Y/N nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. “I know. I just… I’ve been so scared, Jenna. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize you didn’t want this anymore. That you didn’t want me.”

Jenna’s expression softened even more, and she moved closer to him, her hand still gripping his. “Y/N… that’s not it. I love you. I always have. But we can’t keep letting fear control us. We need to talk to each other, not shut down every time things get hard.���

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. She wasn’t leaving. She didn’t want to leave. But the fear, the doubt, had been eating him alive for weeks, and now that it was out in the open, he realized just how much it had been affecting them.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t realize I was pushing you away.”

Jenna shook her head, her thumb gently brushing over the back of his hand. “We’ve both been doing it. But it doesn’t have to be like this. We can fix this, Y/N. We just need to be honest with each other.”

Y/N nodded, finally meeting her gaze. “I want that. I want us to be okay.”

Jenna smiled softly, leaning in to press her forehead against his. “We will be. But we have to stop letting fear get in the way.”

They sat there like that for a while, their foreheads touching, the weight of their unspoken fears slowly lifting. The tension between them wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter now, more manageable.

As the night wore on, Y/N realized that the dark cloud that had been hanging over them for so long was starting to fade. There were still things they needed to work through, still conversations they needed to have, but for the first time in weeks, Y/N felt like maybe they could make it through this.

And as he held Jenna close, he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going to let fear take her away from him. Not again.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

There's not much Barty Crouch Jr content out there. If you don't mind writing about him, can I make a request? After escaping Azkaban, he serves his Lord to the best of his ability, but there is someone from his past that he still can't get out of his mind. A Slytherin and from a family of followers of the Dark Lord. They had a relationship during their youth. After many years, he finds her again. He always had a soft spot for her. But the reader (like Snape, a sort of spy) is secretly thinking against the Dark Lord and stays away from these things as much as possible, but she is definitely in danger. Things are complicated, but the strong attraction and longing between them cannot be ignored...

The Boy I Knew

Barty Crouch Jr. x Black!Fem!Reader

Cw; Y/N, obsessions, one sided love(Barty pining), Barty being unhinged. Reader is morally grey, Remus Lupin onesided love (Rem pining), sexual themes and scenes, mentions of murder}} Please tell me if I missed anything!

AN- this fanfic is now well over what it should have been. I am posting a fraction of the proofread bits as of now, as I realize this is probably not at all what you wanted and if so I am SO sorry. If you want more I have a pouch that just needs to be beta read

Wc-5670

Taglist: @defnotfrey @au-ghosttype

{. 1972 - Barty’s Year 1 .}

Bartemius Crouch Junior couldn't have been older than eleven when he first met {Y/N} Walburga Black.  A cool upperclassman, if only by a year. 

Bartemius, at that ripe age, knew only a handful of things, and two of those was how badly he wanted to be seen and known. He wanted to be seen for who he was, and known for what he would do. That's likely what drew him to you. 

At only twelve, you and your brother had made a name for yourselves, in much different ways. Your brother was popular, for his quick tongue and clever quips, his innate ability to get under anyone's skin and stay there. Those traits could be forgiven, and they always were, for his big heart and intense sense of moral. 

You, however, were known for harboring a few very non Black traits, like your intense empathy and your crazed thirst for knowledge. Even as a Slytherin, your loyalty and curiosity rivaled the students around you tenfold. Your bravery knew no bounds, even with all the wrongs you had been done, you were forgiving and understanding. You were seen by everyone, you were known for everything.

As he got older, he wondered where that forgiveness went. You grew cold.

When he was innocent, when he had done no wrongs, you cradled him in your hands like he was a gift. You looked at him with eyes you shared with everyone, so much care and patience, so much understanding and kindness. So if those eyes were shared with the masses, he struggled, but was determined, to keep them focused on himself at any chance given.

It was obvious to anyone who saw the two interact. Barty wanted to be witnessed by you. The halls filled with the judgeful and teasing murmurs when he found you in the halls.

“There goes {Y/N}’s prodigy.”

“Barty is off to find his guru.”

“That boy will never learn.”

“How annoying.”

Barty had never been ashamed of his declarations for praise. He knew most of the voices were bitter with jealousy. He would be jealous too. You were both so young, and yet even some older students looked to you like you were twice your age, yet every Friday when the tests were returned, you sat in the courtyard and waited for him. Your personal underclassman.

You would meet in the yard and he would brandish his flawless marks, you would praise his abilities in absolute pride. He had never had someone prideful of him before. Everyone knew him to be a mother’s boy, but he would challenge any of those claims. He was a {Y/N}’s boy, he'd tell them, no shame as students snickered and made their fun of him. He was never afraid of how much he liked you. How much he admired and respected you.

He would turn from the RavenClaw table and look to you after his announcements everytime, you would be eating with Lily Evans and the other girls of her group, but your eyes would be on him. You would give him a soft smile that drove him mad. He would return it with his own, the smile he would save for you. Just you.

When he was only eleven and you were twelve, everything was perfect for him. You focused your attention on studies, your friends, and of course, Barty. That's how it stayed for years.

He would reminisce in his cell, running his dulled nail along the jagged stone walls, carving intents of every minute that passed. Remembering all of the things he regretted most in his life. Losing your trust was where his spiral began. He was a foolish kid.

{. 1974 Barty’s Year 3 .}

“It's getting embarrassing.”

Barty was eating lunch with one of the many friends he had made during his years at Hogwarts, Evan Rosier. He was once again bringing the conversation back to you, as he had been for the past few days.

“You trail after her like a loyal dog. Has she even given you a hint that she may return your feelings?” 

“What feelings?”

Evan and you did not get along. You never had. When he first found himself growing closer to him, you voiced your distaste for Evan the very next day. Barty always trusted your judgment, he obeyed you without much of a fight in most cases. This was not one of those cases.

He figured you to be biased, your brother thought him to be a Death Eater and you despised them. Something he could never understand, you were a pureblood, a Black, you were a powerful witch, and you would never have to worry about falling for a half blood or muggleborn, or Merlin forbid, a muggle. You were smarter than that. He always figured. You wouldn't taint your legacy.

Not like your useless brother, who he could see even now, describing his entanglements with witches and wizards of any kind, to the other Marauders.

As the years went on, you and Barty’s meetings became scarcer and scarcer, they went from Fridays to every second Friday, finally, you now only met every last Friday of the month. Still, Barty clung to you with a desperation he never would give anyone else.

Recently, you had gotten into a fight. One where you expressed your worry for what could possibly happen to him if he got involved with the wrong crowd. Barty, admittedly, didn't respond in kind. He was furious with you. You questioned his company but pushed away from him, you questioned his morals and his standing on the war. He told you there was no war to him, there was no fight.

At the end of the day, he would be standing by you.

The answer seemed to distress you further. It turned into a match of shouts and desperate pleas of compliance. It caused a scene, people watched as you defended your standing on your side of the war, this fight you were having with yourself he assumed. There was no war. This was a power struggle.

Evan’s scoff snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked up from his plate to his eyes. 

“Barty, half the school knows you've been in love with her since first year.” He hissed and Barty frowned. Would he call it love? He didn't think about it long before he had his answer. Love wasn't something he looked for, but he found it constantly. From the love he shared with Pandora, to the love he shared with Regulus, even the love he was nurturing with the brutish Evan.

No love in his body burned hotter then his love for you. 

He never thought about it because he never had to. Why would he? He knew you loved him too. He knew what you two shared was never anything that could be challenged. He was your prodigy. He was your prodigy. He didn't care for much, as long as he was yours. 

Evan snapped his fingers in his face and drew his attention back to him. He gave a slick smirk and wet his lips. “Come on, Barty, she's just a girl. You're wasting talent. Talent that could be used for someone who actually appreciates you.”

“She does appreciate me.” Barty challenged immediately, before Evan smirked and gestured to the Gryffindor table. “Does she?”

Barty turned just in time to see you, he never had to stare at a crowd too long to find you. 

You were sitting with your brother and his friends, side by side with Remus, sitting far too close for comfort. He was whispering something in your ear, making you giggle. Turning to look at him with the truest smile he's ever seen you make. Flashing your beautifully uneven teeth, your cheeks dimpling and eyes seeming to sparkle. Your eyes met Lupin’s and he took in your expression like he could die in that moment. 

Barty had never seen you smile like that before. He had never seen you look that way before. You had never looked at him like that before.

He hadn't even noticed as he began to bend the fork in his hand, fist tightening as he watched as Remus lean in and stole a kiss against your cheek. You gave a bigger laugh at this. Moving in to kiss his lips carefully. 

The wonderful moment you were having was interrupted when a loud snap sounded threw the cafeteria. Your eyes snapped over to the RavenClaw table, as did a lot of your peers. Barty had snapped a fork in half with his thumb alone. Before a professor could scold him, he got up from his seat and stomped out of the grand hall, and your eyes followed them.

You muttered a quick apology to Remus and he nodded in understanding as you scrambled to your feet to follow after him. 

He wished he could take every word he called you in that hall back now. He wished he had been smart enough to know that loving you with you in his life would of been far less torture then loving a girl who hated your guts. 

“You blood trader!”

“This! This is what I meant, Bartemius! My Barty would never-”

“You don't have a clue about me, you insolent heartbreaker! What of us, Black?”

“Us? What Us, Barty?”

That night he realized that no matter how genuine his love was for you, how deeply it ran, those times spent alone meant far more to him then it ever meant to you. You did stuff like that for everyone. 

He wasn't entitled to your love. Running his nail down until it was blunted against the wall. Azkaban could no longer do more harm then it already had.

{. 1974 Barty’s Year 4 .}

An entire school year. You and Barty didn't speak for an entire school year.

He kept his tabs on you, of course, because no matter what you said to him that day, you were still his person. Knowing how ignorant and how dangerously minded you could be, he took it upon himself to look over you. You may have been older, you may have sworn him, at one time, your loyalty and protection. But now, he had power of his own. He would repay you. He would repay and reeducate you, given the chance. With all the training him, Evan, Muliciber, Avery, even Snape had done? By Merlin’s beard he could do anything.

He had the mind to back that up, but he kept his power under wraps. You were always frightened by what you didn't understand, the last thing he wanted was for you to fear him. He wanted everyone to know him as fear, not you.

Never you.

When the school year started Barty noticed the shift instantly. He knew you like the back of his hand, far more than he let on most days, but it didn't take a genius to see that {Y/N} Black sitting with Regulus Black at the Slytherin table was odd. 

He soon learned of what happened between Sirius and his family, a right disgrace. Then to learn Sirius scorned you from his life for choosing to stay with Regulus, that was probably what started Barty’s absolute disdain for your brother. You had gone through training per Regulus. Saying before Sirius left he let it slip about you and Remus, trying to entice you to leave with him. You refused and your mother lost it. Walburga was a stain on this earth for what she had done. Even then…

It was all for the better, as he saw it. You don't need the impressions of Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Mary Macdonald, Remus Lupin, or any others that pour their venom into a perfect witch as yourself. He would make sure it stayed that way, even if it hurt you. However, he couldn't lie.

You always looked your best when you knew your worth. 

It wasn't just your routine that changed, you became cold to your old friends, dropping the Muggle borns and staying weary of the half bloods. You started to associate mainly with more influential Purebloods.

That meant him. 

He knew his father was good for something.

“Crouch? Would you like to accompany me to the library?” Your voice sang out to him, despite your listless monotone and drifting eyes. It was the first sentence you muttered to him in 13 months. Your voice was more reserved, your back straightened and your lips pouted. You didn't look like that 12 year old he knew, you were 16 now. Even in his depravity, he took notice of every lovely advancement you had taken in care of your appearance. Your mother instructed you with glamours and proper wear, even now wearing a black feathered choker and brandished a black quill. A family heirloom, Regulus would tell him.

Now, he hated your mother, there was no question about that. What she had done to Regulus was unforgivable, what she had done to you was cause for retaliation in his eyes. But Merlin, did she put you back on the path of greatness.

“Crouch? {Y/N}, my love, it will always be Barty to you.” He lit up like a child, voice sugary sweet. It was your turn to take notice of his change. He was still the same boy you met in first year. Endlessly obsessive, devoted, and excelling at all the things you liked about him. Unfortunately, also the things you hated. 

But, he was still your Barty in your heart. The boy you loved, the boy you cherished, the boy who charmed your soul in ways you didn't know possible. If you had to pick anyone to fill the hollowed out ache in your chest, you chose dangerously, Barty Crouch Jr would be your reprieve.

He was just older now. He was becoming a man.

Everyone knows what they say, about a boy and a girl, coming into their own together. Barty figured this was your love story, you weren't one to argue any longer.

He didn't care that you only seemed to speak to him out of necessity. When he heard from Regulus that your mother was making you pick your friends based on their social standing, any males to soon be a suitor, he was ecstatic.

He was remarkable. He was seen. He was valuable enough to you to not be a mere pawn but maybe even a queen on your chest set. To be used by you? It was worth every moment of the ache. All of this because his father just so happened to keep his filthy hands to the purest bloodlines.

That was his value to you. His blood, his sweat, his labor, and his mind. They were yours, no questions asked. He clung to your heel with new found determination. He would keep you on the right track, the promised one. The one that would ensure your children had the same opportunities. 

He knew he wanted this the moment he walked in on you and Severus arguing in the courtyard.

“You dare call her a Mudblood, you incessant pompous Half Breed?!” Your voice echoed through the halls. People watched in horror, some in absolute shock, the sweet kind girl they had grown attached to was a right monster now. Barty, however, was loving it. You were a proper pureblood.

“{Y/N}-” Severus spoke carefully, something about his tone was far too familiar for Barty’s liking, him addressing you by first name made his jaw tighten. He didn't have to say a word. You rectified it.

“Do not address me as anything other than Black, you dirty mutt!” You screeched. Severus looked stunned, the usually stoic boy looked broken. Barty watched as your eyes trailed over a shocked and watery eyed Lily Evans, he almost didn't catch you muttering, “You lost that privilege.”

He, of course, came to your rescue, as he always promised. Hand around your back and escorted you away from the fight. As you both walked down the corridor your path was blocked. 

Barty almost laughed, Remus Lupin. He was standing with Sirius Black, both staring threatening daggers at Barty. When you both kept walking, Barty shoved a path between the two boys, you hand a fistful of his cloak so as to not be left behind.

He didn't like how Remus’s eyes softened at the sight of you. He didn't like how Sirius reached for you. He walked faster, putting your sniffling form in front of himself.

After that, he knew he had you. 

You were becoming who you were meant to be.

~~~

He took his mark that summer, standing alongside your brother Regulus Black, Lucius Malfoy, Beatrix Black and Evan Rosier. They were at your cousin’s manor, in the ballroom standing side by side. He was as straight as a board, brimming with pride, smirking to himself and brandishing his left arm.

He could feel your eyes on him, from where you stood, next to Narcissa, your aunt and your mother. Waiting for him. 

Evan was first, standing beside Barty and holding out his wrist. When the wand hovered over his wrist and the Death Eater began to mutter the incantation, Evan let out a blood curdling sound. Pure brutish pain shot through him, leading him to fall back. Quickly held up by two other death eaters behind him.

When the wand brushed Barty’s wrist next, he hardly flinched. Tilting his head back as sweat gathered around his temple and neck. He bit his lip and let himself feel every sharp intrusion the spell took, letting himself succumb to the blissful pain.

When he returned to you, not standing to wait for dismissal like the rest of them, he wrapped his arm around your waist and yanked you in. He stole your lips for his own, making you give a slight gasp. You don't fight it, so he pushed further, letting himself taste your bottom lip and pulling it punishingly between his teeth. Through his high he was able to recognize and memorize the feel of your lips and the taste, in his mind, it was the closest to the gods he'd ever get. What was true heaven, however, was when you took his cheeks in your hands and kissed him back.

“Enough.” He heard your mother hiss from beside you. She shooed Barty away like he was some stray dog. He backed down from where you stood, licking his lips and admiring just how shaken and red you looked. Your mother, the hag, pushed you behind herself and hid you away from his eyes.

When you looked away and covered your mouth, he almost didn't notice how you also licked your lips clean. That drove him mad.

He had come to the conclusion early on, you were a temptress. A vixen. A damned Siren as far as he knew. 

Memories of that night, your first kiss, the moment he could see you falling for him. A proper man, worthy of the worship he planned to give you. Worthy of serving a goddess like you. It kept him up most nights, it was a high even the dementor's couldn't take away, but they did manage to warp his obsession from what he believed to have been holy, to the truth.

He was brought on this earth for you. Without you, he was nothing. He was rotting.

{. 1976 Barty’s Year 6 .}

The next year he took your hand and promised you the world. To his delight, you responded in kind. You began dating his sixth year and it was absolute bliss. 

It didn't last long, that bliss. It became a thrill.

Despite his power and loyalty to the dark lord, your mother favored another's for your hand. Particularly, Avery. His father came to your mother with the proposal, your mother liked his offer of the estate and your own power over the house.

You, however, much to Barty’s delight, were way too far gone. In your now secret meetings, where you would take you strolls along the city street, to the shop or to the boutique. You made a show of it; but you only truly left for Crouch Manor.

Where Mr. and Mrs. Crouch turned their other cheek as you snuck your way to Barty’s chambers. Behind those locked doors your love was dangerous. His whispers and promises of treachery against your family name were met with nothing less than desperate devotion and promises in kind. As your palms glided over his bare chest and his large hands found their way under your skirt.

His favorite memories were all locked away in that room. The room he made you his own, where his hands grew familiar with your skin in ways no one else ever could, where he found an affinity for you breathless, and where he heard you let out sounds no self respecting Black heiress should ever let out. 

He claimed what was his birthright, between your legs. Bruised your lips numb and left marks you had to charm away when you made it back home. Just in time for supper.

With the feeling of him still fresh on your body. The pureblood heir your parents thought so lowly of. The heir they didn't see fit to sit at that very table, was still there. His lips were on the rim of the cup you sipped from, his hands were on the arm rests you relaxed against, and his teeth and claws were buried into their perfect daughter.

{. 1978 .}

By the time you both graduated, you took your place at the table. Having fought to hold off your engagement to Avery, Barty took it into his own hands to get between the two of you. Every time you glance in the boy's direction, he shrivels in on himself.

“Barty?” You whispered between his greedy kisses, in the halls of the Malfoy manor.  The only times his hands could find your hips and his lips could find yours outside of his own room now. He was starting to see less and less of you. The war was in full swing and with his desperation for you was all that was driving him most days. 

Thinking now, he wondered what drove you. Even now, having spent a year in Azkaban, you were still the light he flew to, no matter how much it hurt him. He could have sworn, at one time, it was him.

“Darling.” He whispered low against your lips. You tangled your fingers into his hair, before pulling him down. He rested his chin against the curve of your chest and looked up into your eyes.

You bit your lip, running your thumb along his own reddening ones. “Do you love me, Barty?” You cooed.

“I do.” He affirmed, licking the skin you touched along his Cupid's bow, “I do, more than anything.” His voice was raw and rough, he pulled at your hold, trying desperately to kiss you again.

“Do something for me, Barty.” 

“Anything, Darling. Anything.” He muttered, eyes still on your lips.

“Be within my reach. Always.” You whispered before releasing him. He took your lips once more, pushing you back against the wall like the very prospect of not touching you in some way was physically painful. His hand traveled up from your hand to rub over the mark you took just days earlier.

Every moment like that seemed fleeting. 

The very next year, Regulus Black passed. He had gone MIA and your mother, despite her loyalty to Voldemort, commanded you home. It got worse when they officially announced his death.

You stayed locked in those walls, by order of your mother. He missed you dearly. Barty never wanted to be your hero, some great commander, he couldn't care less now about who else even knew his name anymore. He was older now, and he just wanted to be yours. 

So, it pushed Barty to work even harder. Anything to appease The Dark Lord, get this war over with, so he could return to the only true person worthy of his reverence. 

Without you, his life went by in simple clips of reality. When Voldemort fell, he was imprisoned in this hellhole, and even now, he found himself unable to let anything else consume his mind.

The dripping of water from the rusting metal doors drove him mad. No other sounds but the miserable screams of inmates and slamming of bodies against pavement. It was a torturous and hopeless place, some people preferred punishment by their own hands. There was suddenly a loud clanging of keys that cut his thoughts.

He looked up from the corner of his cell, putting his thumb in his mouth and sucking on the bleeding torn skin. The marks he had made on the cell walls marked his 354th day in this nightmare. His eyes locked with his father and his mother, furrowing his brow as he stood.

His mother two out two veils of a slug colored potion, his father had another potion in his hand.

Barty didn't stay in that cell to see his 355th.

~~~

{. 1994 POV Shift .}

“It's a bit cold, don't you think?”

Remus Lupin's voice cut through the fog of your mind like a knife through butter. He was right, of course. Even as the year grew warmer with the summer months growing closer, the astronomy tower always gave a pleasant and persistent chill. 

You were used to it, by now. Being the Astronomy Professor for almost twelve years. About the same amount of years you managed to avoid coming into contact with Remus himself. 

You had to give him credit, Remus Lupin, he was persistent. Doing everything in his power to get you alone. As if one conversation would melt away years of what you had done, the people you deceived, the lives you took, the lies you told… all in the name of a crazed boy long lost to the history of the wizarding world. For the family who was as faded as the family tree you used to tend to with your brothers, painting names and burning faces. 

As if speaking to you would somehow bridge a gap. A gap in his heart that still ached for you. It was never something he was able to understand, your persistent and endless love for Crouch had come out of nowhere for him. He couldn't look Sirius in the eye for a long time, learning he had outed your budding relationship. 

He took every chance he could, to reach out, to speak to you, it was met with closed doors and a reminder of remaining professional. 

“It is. Heading out, Lupin?” You muttered to him. You couldn't lie and say having him here didn't make you feel, in some ways, nostalgic. To the loving, caring, respectful girl you once knew. One with so much patience and kindness you shared it with all kinds of souls. Souls you've watched drop like flies under the man you swore your life to.

“I am.” Remus muttered but didn't turn to leave. You shifted on your heel to look back at him from the entrance of the tower. He had his hand resting on the railing, his palm thudding against the railing as he tried to gather the courage to continue.

“I heard you gave Snape quite the earful.” He hummed, walking deeper into your classroom. You thinned your lips and shook your head, turning away from him. He gave a weak scoff. 

“Could you at least look at me?” He pushed, his voice wavering. You closed your eyes and gave a deep sigh. Your hands moved to grab the railing.

“What is it, Lupin?” 

“It's not too late.” He whispered and you closed your eyes. His words were exact, aimed to cut deep and retrieve from you the heart he knew was there; it just had grown cold. “You could come back. With me, tonight, we can meet with Padfoot and-”

“And what, Lupin?” You spoke calmly as you turned to face him. He went rigid at your stare. “Live this wonderful life you have weaved out for us? Pretend that everything is okay and the last few years never happened?” You pushed and he closed his eyes. 

Anger bubbled in his throat with something familiar, jealousy and bitter melancholy. If he could hear you any clearer you would be cotton in his ears. Your words were empty because he knew you could. Put Hogwarts behind you and come back to him, come with him and Sirius like you should have done back when you wore uniform and not cloaks like proper professors. Nothing was proper about you two aching hearts anyway. 

Yet history repeated itself.

It always would.

“You know he's gone.” Remus started slowly and your breath caught in your throat. You felt your eyes grow glossy with grief and you placed your left hand over your heart. 

“I never thought I would be someone's second choice. To Bartemius Crouch Jr.” He continued. “I see I never measured up, did I?” 

“... I am sorry, Remus.” You whispered, your voice, for the first time in years, was vulnerable. It was careful.

Because of course you loved Remus. You loved him dearly, but no man would own you like Barty had. You were terrified to let yourself be loved with anything less than what he had shown you. Steadfast and faithful love. No one could challenge the status of Barty in your life.

Even in death his ghost reminds you of your place. Next to him. 

Once this was over, once Dumbledore had seen and used his worth in you, when you were no longer under his wing like a servant, you would go back to 12 Grimmauld Place. You would retire. And you would wait for Barty to take you back home. Let it be a year, let it be ten, you would return to him as promised.

“... What have you become?” He whispered to you, and your eyes finally raised to meet him. You caught your tears and quickly cleaned your face. Shaking your head you put back on your practiced and perfect pout.

“.. A Black.”

Your exchange ended there. 

Remus returned to your brother, you presumed. You forged ignorance when you were questioned by the Ministry of your brother’s whereabouts. It didn't take much for them to let you be, especially with Mr. Crouch Senior’s particular protectiveness of you. Probably a gift from Mrs. Crouch, oh, how you missed her.

When Barty was taken and your mother was far too weak to control you, you visited the Crouchs’ daily. You helped Winky with taking care of his parents, particularly his sick and fragile mother. You grew a weak repore with his father, though you despised him. 

As a proper pureblood you just silently reaped the benefits of what the world had gifted you.

Including your wealth. With the house of Black fallen you were left to be the soul heir. Though, the moment you heard of Sirius Black’s escape, you reopened your joint account. Soon, you heard someone was able to access it. It was true; your brother was alive and well.

That was the only olive branch you extended to him. 

Once the school year was officially over you returned home. To your modest house down in an old town just a broom ride away from Hogwarts. Feldcroft.

You returned home, it was uneventful. Until you opened your door. 

You were greeted by Winky, the Crouch’s house elf. That wouldn't be unusual, Barty had preached to her about how you were both intended. How she should attend to you, how she attended to him. So she would appear at your house from time to time, with gifts and food she had prepared for Crouch Senior that she made just too much of.

“Winky?” You called out to the figure in your hall. The sheepish girl turned to face you with a careful smile.

“Madam Black has returned! How happy Winky is to see you, mistress.” She declared and hurried up to you. Her path was cut short as Creature stepped in front of her, snapping away your bags. He seemed in a foul mood. Fowler then usual.

“Your mother would not approve of your company, Ms. Blaaaack.” He warned and you furrowed your brow. “Nor would she approve of this home-”

“Kreature.” You demanded and he huffed. Winky was always coming in and out, Creature never voiced displeasure with her company and your mother, well, she could care less. “What company?”

“The noisy Crouch, Ma'am.”

Your heart dropped. He apparated away, assumingly to unpack your bags. Your eyes widened as Winky appeared in front of your full view. Showing off the black quill you had most definitely left at home. Your mothers old quill. You took it carefully from the house elf.

“Winky..” You spoke carefully and slowly. Holding up the quill between your fingers. “Who gave this to you?”

“I think you know, Darling.” 

Before Winky could answer, a voice lost to time spoke first. You knew it before you even turned around. 

Still, you jerked your entire body to face him. Your eyes locked, full of longing and hope.

 And there he was. Your Barty.

He was holding a newspaper, licking his bottom lip but his eyes were on you. His eyes were just how you always remembered them. So full of danger and appreciation for your simple presence. He stepped towards you and you took a step back. He tsked at that, reaching out to grab your waist. “Darling..” He whispered.

You were still in shock. Staring up at his brown eyes and waiting. For anything. “Barty?” You whispered.

When he kissed you, alarm bells went off in your head. You didn't listen to any of them, grabbing him just as greedily as he held you. Both of your eyes closed and you held each other like you might perspire. 

He was home.

He truly was.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

NERD!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Author's note: thinking about some nerd!anakin fic where he had heard the reader talk with her friends that she's not passing physics and since he has the biggest crush on her since second grade he later suggest to help her..if she'll help him with something else ;)

Nerd!Anakin who inside was a little dirty minded boy that wished nothing more to have a loving girlfriend to do with her all the cool, nice things he always wanted to do (and he meant more joyful activities than sex)

Nerd!Anakin who has a collection of technical manuals and scientific holobooks that he reads in his spare time. His nightstand is filled with them, and he gets excited when a new one comes out. He’ll stay up late, curled up on the couch, devouring a manual on hyperdrive mechanics or some obscure sci-fi novel, eyes glued to the hologram.

He also loves telling you all about the technical details of what he's learning. You may not always understand everything he’s talking about, but his excitement is so adorable that you just let him ramble on.

Nerd!Anakin who has a soft spot for droids, and he might even give them 'upgrades' just because he thinks they deserve a treat. “You’ve been working hard, buddy. How about a new power cell?”. He’ll talk to them while he works, explaining what he’s doing like they’re his assistants (his fav is R2D2 obviously)

Nerd!Anakin who gets ridiculously excited about the latest gadgets or tech upgrades. When something new comes out, he’s like a kid in a candy store. Whether it's a new holo-terminal, a high-speed pod engine - he’s always the first in line to get it. He’ll show it off to you, explaining every little detail with enthusiasm. “Look at this! It has a new feature that triples efficiency!” He gets that adorable spark in his eye, completely geeking out over the smallest improvements.

Nerd!Anakin who would love when you'd do your nails; he'd ask soon later (when you two are alone) if you could play with his hair to only feel you scratch very gently against his scalp

Nerd!Anakin who was a great whimpering mess whenever you touched him (poor guy had never felt woman's touch before);

a sharp gasp left his mouth as you touched the mushroomy tip of his member, his hips jerking towards you without thought. he was already embarrassingly close, and now your teasing was only driving him closer to the edge “please-“ he let out a pleading moan, the words barely leaving his dry mouth

"please what ani? Use your words like good boys do"

He tried to focus enough to form a coherent sentence but it was getting so hard when all his mind could focus on, was the way you made him feel “I’m close-“ he gasped out, his hips rocking frantically against your tightening fist “I’m so close baby, i need it” he let out a sobbing whimper

"can you hold it in a little?" you asked gently

he groaned at the question before nodding almost desperately “for you, anything” his glasses sliding down his nose

You only hummed, all proud of your actions. How easily you could tear him apart by your single touch. Using her free hand to move his glasses so they were a bit more comfortable on him. You increased your movements, making sure to

he could feel the heat in his abdomen tighten as your hand moved faster. he was struggling to keep himself together, not much to your surprise "oh-oh god-“ he let out a loud gasp and a groan as your thumb moved over his tip again, that little touch sending electricity up his spine “oh-fuck…” one hand digging into the couch for some kind of grip “I can’t hold it—please please please” tears of desperation and overwhelming began to prick at the corner of his eyes

Nerd!Anakin who when was nervous, draw circles and designs on the back of your hand to relax himself

Nerd!Anakin who did your own minifigure from Legos

Nerd!Anakin who always had perfectly ironed shirts

Nerd!Anakin who in general was perfectionist in everything he'd do. If he had a mess in his room, he couldn't focus normally. If just one thing was moved inches apart, it drove him wild

Nerd!Anakin who made cupcakes with his mother for you

Nerd!Anakin who's a true mommy's boy

Nerd!Anakin who teared up after you gave him his first blowjob. He felt so overstimulated when his thick member was hugged around your warm throat, your tongue working on his shaft..it was way too much for the first time, he'd gasp and ask you to slow down because if you wouldn't, you'd already have his cum dripping down your throat

Nerd!Anakin who gave you flowers - sometimes real one and sometimes he'd do them from origamy

Nerd!Anakin who has a little sketchbook where he draws schematics for future projects—droid designs, custom technology accessories, etc. He’s always thinking of new ways to improve things, and his sketches are filled with intricate details and notes.

Sometimes, he’ll show you a design he’s particularly proud of, grinning ear to ear as he explains how it works. “What do you think? Pretty sleek, huh?”

Nerd!Anakin who was a true worshipper of your body. Would press such gentle kisses all over your body as if you were a ceramic doll he was scared to break

Nerd!Anakin who's glasses got foggy everytime he made love to you, his curls sticking to his forehead and his pinky, swollen lips quivering to hold back his own orgasm

Nerd!Anakin who adored math and physics (but not as much as he adored you). And of course, he loved to help you with those subjects

Nerd!Anakin ho invited you to weekly movie marathon. With all the snacks ready and a fluffy blanket

Nerd!Anakin who adored to cuddle with you. It was something so precious for him, and whenever he had a chance, he'd just wrap his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzle to your soft neck

Nerd!Anakin who liked to play with your hair like brushing them out of your face, twirling the strand around his finger and watch intensively, as if it was the most important/gorgeous/captivating sight he had seen, how it hugged his finger so perfectly

Nerd!Anakin who had his 'sexual education' with you;

Anakin hesitantly reached out, his hand trembling as he lifted it towards your chest. He hesitates for a moment once more, not sure if he's ready to do that. He just felt so sinful watching you naked..but oh so good.. so, before the thoughts would envelope his entire mind, he gently cupped one of your round, full breasts. He instantly marveled at, not only the softeneness but the weight, the way it filled his palm, how it was so beautiful, seeing your raspberry ripple hidden thanks to his large hand made him feel so fuzzy all inside

As he squeezed the soft globe tentatively, feeling its weight sprawl all over his senses, he couldn't help but let out a low moan, his body responding to the newfound pleasure. Guilty feelings fade away, leaving him all needy for more of you. His fingertips graze over your nipple to harden it, eliciting a soft gasp from both of you. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with wonder. "I-how i-" he stuttered shyly "-what should I do now?"

"whatever you want..you can kiss it, play with it, anything you want Annie"

Anakin's eyes widen at your words. To have the whole access to your body felt more pleasurable than anything in his life. He leaned in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to the underside of your breast. You gazed down at how his glasses pressed against your skin, making your breath hitched. He then brought his hand up to gently squeeze and caress the soft mound at your left breast, almost nuzzling to the right one. He looked back up at you, seeking approval, as if not sure if he could go any further

"go on, they're all yours" you encouraged

Anakin smiles shyly at your encouragement, feeling emboldened. He starts to kiss and lick at your breasts, alternating between the two. He gently nibbles on your nipples, sucking on them and releasing them with soft popping sounds. "Ahh... they're so soft... and t-tasty..." he mumbled the last part more quietly, as if embarrassed that he actually thought about your breasts in that way

he accidentally uses a bit too much pressure with his teeth, causing you to hiss in pain. He immediately freezes, his eyes filled with worry. "I'm so sorry... did I hurt you?" His voice soft, laced with adorable concern.

"no--its okay..just try to use a little less teeth..and relax"

Anakin nods, his expression turning gentle again. He leans back in, this time more careful, his touch feather-light. He alternates between sucking and licking, paying close attention to the way you react to his touch. "Like this?" He asks softly, his voice muffled against your skin.

"just like that" you tugged on his curls

After the moaned sentence left your mouth, Anakin felt a surge of pride. He continues his gentle ministrations, his own body growing harder with each passing moment. He looks up at you,l with his eyes hooded. "Can I... can I kiss you lower now?"

Nerd!Anakin who was scared to eat you out at first, cause it'd be his very much first pussy. But when he did, he had no idea how to do it. He used his teeth a little too much, his tongue a bit too forceful but in time he got better

Nerd!Anakin who loves space documentaries. He'll make you sit with him on the couch to watch them, enthusiastically pointing out facts you didn’t even know he knew. He’s the type to lean over and say things like, “Did you know that this system’s star is actually binary? And it formed 4.6 billion years ago?”

Nerd!Anakin who uses cheesy, nerdy pick-up lines that leave you both laughing. He’s the kind of guy who would say, “Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you’re Cu-Te.” He says it with so much confidence that you can’t help but find it endearing.

When you tease him about it, he’ll get all flustered, scratching the back of his head with that sheepish grin. “I thought it was clever..and you'd like it, maybe give me a small kiss or something.."

Nerd!Anakin who is fiercely protective of his tech projects. If someone tries to mess with them or touch his tools without asking, he’ll get all defensive. “Hey, be careful with that! I’ve been working on this for weeks.”

But when it’s you? He lets you mess with his projects all you want, even if it makes him a bit nervous. He’ll give you a dorky smile and say, “Just don’t break it, okay?” But secretly, he loves sharing his passions with you.

Nerd!Anakin who, as smart as he is with machines, is absolutely terrible in the kitchen. He’ll try to make you dinner as a sweet surprise, but something always goes wrong—he burns the food, the recipe doesn’t turn out, or the kitchen ends up looking like a disaster zone.

He’ll stand there, looking embarrassed but hopeful, holding a burnt dish with a lopsided grin. “Uh, it’s a little... crispy..”

Nerd!Anakin who leaves you small, nerdy notes;

On a sticky note on your fridge

"You’re the binary star to my existence. Without you, my orbit is off. Also, I reprogrammed the toaster. You're welcome.”

In your notebook or planner

“If I could rewrite the laws of physics, I'd bend space-time just to spend an extra 5 minutes with you.”

"The only code I can’t crack? How you make my heart race this fast.

Tucked inside your favorite book

“You're like the perfect algorithm: complex, beautiful, and always leaving me wanting to solve the equation that is you.”

On your desk after a long day

“You must have a gravity field around you, because I can't seem to stay away. P.S. Check under the desk, I might've added a small modification.”

Next to your coffee in the morning

"You must be a supernova, because you light up my entire galaxy."

Left on the keyboard of your laptop

“I may be fluent in over 6 million forms of communication, but none can express how much you mean to me. Except maybe binary: 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101.”

On a scrap of paper in your bag

“If life were an RPG, you’d be the rarest item—a perfect balance of stats, charisma, and intelligence. Also, +100 beauty.”

Tucked in between your sketchpad pages (if you're into art)

“You’re the canvas, I’m the artist... together, we create the perfect masterpiece. P.S. I’m still better at drawing starships though.”

Left in your lunchbox

“Did you know you increase productivity in starship repairs by 43% just by being near me? I’d call that a superpower.”

Taped to a little DIY gadget he made for you

“This little thing is just like you—ingenious and holds everything together. Also, try pressing the blue button for a surprise.”

Next to your favorite snack

“You’re like the perfect engineering schematic: flawless in design, and I can’t stop marveling at the details.”

In your locker

"I’d cross the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs just to see your smile."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet (I have not forgot about you now ;) )

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[justmymindandstuff]

Bounded by fire and love - Helaena Targaryen x Aegon II Targaryen (18+MDNI; smut)

This is a sequel to bounded by fire and pain but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: Aegon has tried to be a good brother. He knows he hasn't always been successful. Now the day he had feared has come, his wedding day. He must marry his sister and do his duty. Now he will drag her into his dark abyss with him. But Helaena surprises him with her desire and he manages to find comfort in her arms.

Warnings: age up characters, hurt/ comfort, self-hate, thinking about suicide (briefly), dark!, angst, family issues, Aegon is a product of family issues, Alicent is a bad mum but she tries, , drinking, sexual trauma, blood (briefly), marriage night, loss of virginity, insecure Helaena, incecure Aegon, sibling incest (obvious), p in v sex, oral (f), fingering, innocent/virging Helaena, innocence kink, pet names (?idn Aegon calls Helaena good girl once), smut, 18+, MDNI!

Words: 10.066

A/N: My Helaegon brainrot starts as a joke, but guys its not a joke anymore. I can´t stop thinking about them and the crumbs the show gives us doesn´t help.

English is not my first language// Gif not mine// AO3 // This turned out much darker than I originally intended.

I will write Dragons and Roses 03 over the next few days I promise (and there will be a part 04 bc I have no self control)

Since the fateful night at Driftmarkt, something has shifted in Aegon. Since that night, he is trying to do better. He tries to be a good brother.

He is no longer mean to Aemond and Heleana. Aegon even took Aemond to the brothel at his 13 nameday. Just like his father had done with him. Viserys had said that this is a Targaryen men tradition. Aemond was angry, but Aegon tried. He also has learned to listen to his sister. Her riddles still confuse him, but he knows that he can make her happy with a new insect, and he even tried to learn something about the little crawlers. But the book that the teacher had given him was so boring that he gave up after two chapters. He prefers to listen to Helaena as she explains why certain beetles cannot fly while others can. He tries to remember as much as possible. He is really trying.

But Aegon likes it best when all three fly on their dragons together. Sunfyre's back is his only source of happiness. Experiencing this happiness with his siblings gives Aegon strength. For hours the three dragons fly over the Crownlands.

However, there has been no time for that in the last weeks. The last few weeks have been filled with wedding preparations. Every day Aegon escapes from the Keep. He wants to avoid reality. He spends his days with Sunfyre, and every time he takes his golden dragon to the skies, he thinks for a moment about flying away. But Aegon comes back every afternoon. One bath and a cup of wine later, he has usually disappeared from the Keep again. He spends his nights with drinking, gambling and prostitutes.

But he cannot run away from reality. When his mother waits for him in his chambers three days before the wedding, holding his elaborate embroidered weddingshirt Aegon feels unwell.

"Mother I don't want to get married," he says but tries on his wedding outfit without complaining. The tailors bustle around him, and one accidentally pricks his skin with a needle. Aegon flinches but bites his lip to suppress a curse.

"It must be," Alicent replies, smoothing the embroidered fabric over her chest before taking a step back and looking at her eldest son. Aegon cannot read her facial expressions. He has never been good at that. How is he supposed to recognize emotions when he can't even sort out his own feelings?

"Why?" he asks defiantly. A thousand times he had asked this question and never received an answer. Now his mother sighs.

"Leave us alone." she commands and all the tailors, pages, and servants leave Aegon's chambers. The feeling of relief only lasts a moment.

His mother moves through his rooms as if they were her own. She goes to the table and first pours herself a cup of wine, and then Aegon. Aegon takes a few steps towards her, takes the cup, and waits so she finally answers his question. Aegon knows that Helaena did not ask for this wedding either. This is all his mothers doing.

"You want to protect your sister, right?"

"Of course." but why doesn't his mother understand that Helaena needs to be protected from him?

"Do you know who is her alternative?" she sounds exhausted.

Aegon didn't even know that there was an alternative. But everyone is better than him. Maybe he could arrange for that other man to marry Heleana in his place? He can smuggle her out of the Keep and bringt her to the man who she deserves. Bring her to a better man. He shakes his head and is already making plans on how he can get Heleana out of the Keep.

"Jacaerys Velaryon."

Aegon's plan is falling apart like a house of cards. He would never allow that his sister have to marry that bastard. All his defiance and anger towards his mother dissipate, and Aegon lets himself fall weakly into the next chair.

"Oh."

His mother doesn't punish him at all. She doesn't punish Helaena either. Alicent protects Helaena.

"Yes. Oh. And even if it weren't Jacaerys, it would be some other Lord who takes her away from us. Do you want that? Do you want to say goodbye to your sister?"

"No," he replies softly. His mother is right. He hadn't looked at it that way before. Aegon sighs and concedes defeat. "I will marry her," he whispers.

Alicent sighs, approaches him and sets down her untouched cup. Her hand caresses gently over his cheek. Her lips are twisted into a sad smile. "You don´t have a choice in this."

Her words should perhaps provide comfort, but they only drain all strength out of Aegon and ensure that he drowns himself even deeper in wine by evening. Only after he has vented all his frustration on one of the prostitutes and is back in his chambers he can cry. He lies on the softest bed linens in all of Westeros, surrounded by expensive food and fine wine, his clothes feel soft against his skin, made from the finest material, surrounded by jewelry and every luxury someone can imagine, yet he smells like a beggar, is as powerless as a small child, and feels as broken as a dead man. Aegon closes his eyes. He wishes he could just disappear, sinking into his mattress as if he had never existed. That would be better. Then all the suffering he has caused would not exist either. Helaena could then be free from him. Perhaps Mother would then marry her to Aemond instead of the Strongbastard.

Aemond. His little brother Aemond. Aegon opens his eyes again, tears streaming from them into the pillows. Aemond wouldn't make it without him. The stubborn, headstrong, disciplined Aemond. Aegon can hardly help but laugh at the thought. Aemond wouldn't know what fun is without him. He would throw himself into his training, obsessed with being a warrior and a scholar. An impossible task. Aegon knows that Aemond does all these things to distract from the fact that he is broken. Aemond is broken in a different way than Aegon. But still broken. He can't leave him alone. His little brother needs him.

Helaena is the only one among them who isn't broken. Helaena is perfect, pure, kind. Helaena is the only one who is good.

And in two days she would be his wife, and he would ruin her. Aegon just manages to turn to the side before he expels the contents of his stomach. It's almost all wine, his esophagus burns from the acidity, and the disgusting taste lingers in his mouth. Aegon would prefer to throw up again, but nothing comes out. He turns onto his back and just stares at the ceiling. When sleep comes Aegon is glad, and just before he loses consciousness he wishes for a second not to wake up again.

**

Aegon chambers are full of servants, pages, tailors, and maids. His brother Aemond sits in an armchair by the fire, looking around with a bored expresion. Aegon know it is his mask. Aemond is already wearing his festive attire, yet he still has steel at his belt around his waist. Aegon has already been bathed and smells of the oils and perfume in which his servants have soaked him in. He is rotting inside. The chaos around him causes a headache, and an uneasy feeling crawls through his stomach. His hands tremble and he longs for a cup of wine. Aegon focuses his gaze on his brother's drumming fingers. On the outside, Aemond appears calm, just like Aegon, but inside he is also tumultuous. Aegon tries not to pay attention to the fact that his chambers have already been rearranged and many of Helaena's belongings were brought in. From this evening on, these will no longer be his chambers but their shared ones, their marital chambers. One of the maids pulls at his hair as she clumsily tries to cut it. Aegon grimaces as his scalp tightens.

"Enough," he says, roughly pushing her away. "Get Helaena. Heleana always cuts my hair," he says. Quickly, the maid curtsies and runs out of the room.

"Our sister will surely prepare for the wedding herself." Aemonds voice comes from the fireplace.

"Probably and she will surely find it lovely when so many people are swirling around her and touching her," he replies grimly. A tailor's apprentice stumbles against a chair while turning, causing a pile of sewing materials to fall to the floor and the chair to scrape against the stone floor with a disgusting noise.

Aegon can't take it anymore and explodes.'"Everyone out of here! I don't want to see anyone anymore who isn't part of my family." he screams and jumps up from the chair. For a second, no one moves, and Aegon tries to calm his heartbeat with heavy breaths. Then the hustle begins again as everyone grabs their things and disappears from Aegon's chambers. Aegon takes two steps and reaches finally for his wine cup. In just a few sips, it's empty, and Aegon pours himself another right away.

"Mother says I should prevent you from drinking today."

"Try to stop me." they both know that Aemond could do that with ease. But hje just shrugs his shoulders.

"Don't worry, not today."

Aegon lowers the cup from his lips and looks at his brother. Aemond's expression is unmoving, but compassion is reflected in his eyes. Aegon does not want his pity, but the fact that it is there calms the fear in his gut just a little bit.

The doors are open again and Helaena steps in. She wears a simple dress made of green silk, yet her hair is already intricately braided and tied back, with a diadem perched on her head. The light catches in the green gemstones. Helaena glances around briefly and then smiles. Aegon is relieved that she is smiling.

"Jen said you want me to cut your hair," she says. Aegon fills his cup with wine once more and then returns to his chair.

"Yes, please." he says and drops himself onto the chair. Helaena takes the scissors and walks over to him.

"She says you were mean." cautiously as always, she begins to cut his hair. Aemond huffs from his spot by the fireplace, which makes Aegon roll his eyes. Helaena remains unruffled. As her hands gently glide over his scalp, Aegon briefly closes his eyes. He rarely allows Helaena to touch him, but in those moments, he wonders why. "Aegon?"

He flinches slightly but then responds. "They annoyed me."

"You should still be nice. They are here on Mother's orders."

"I really tried to stay calm."

"I know. It's all right."

He feels like a little child being scolded by his mother. Only that his mother never explained with gentle words what he had done wrong, she had just screams at him and slaps him. He now he deserves every hit from her.

Helaena sets the scissors aside and gently wipes the loose hairs from Aegon's shirt. His wedding outfit is still lying on the bed. Aegon cannot bear to look at it.

"Thank you," he says and stands up. He is glad that the only mirror he has in his chambers is turned around. He cannot bear to look at himself. "Would you like a cup of wine?" he asks. He knows that Helaena actually has to return to her own chambers.

She nods anyway, and they sit down with Aemond by the fireplace. Quickly Aegon pours wine for Helaena and hands her the cup. He made sure that he always has her favorite type of wine in his chambers. Aegon stares into the fire.

"You both look like you're going to your own funeral." Aemond suddenly says. Aegon and Helaena both look up and then at each other. They look that way because they both feel that way. But then Helaena straightens her shoulders.

"No. I'm doing well," she says then. Aegon doesn't believe her. He takes a sip of his wine to avoid saying anything but Helaena addresses him directly. "Aegon. I am truly doing well. And you?"

He sets down the cup and shrugs his shoulders. The nervous feeling in his stomach is getting worse again. Everything in him screams to run away. But he stays seated and instead starts to play with his fingers. Then he forces a smile onto his face.

"I'm doing well too," he says, managing even to look directly at Helaena. He doesn't know if her smile is genuine.

"Today is not our funeral. Not today. I haven't dreamed of today, and I only dream bad things," says Helaena, and her tone makes him perk up a bit, but the strange feeling disappears right away as he remembers his wine. But before he can take another sip, the doors to his chambers are flung open again. Out of the corner of his eye, Aegon sees Aemond's hand going straight for his sword, and he is ready to jump up but his tense posture disappears immediately when he recognizes their mother.

"I thought you were here, Helaena," Alicent says, sounding relieved. Ser Criston closes the door behind them. Then Alicent's gaze shifts from her daughter to Aegon and the cup of wine in his hand, she grimaces. "Aemond, I asked you to make sure he doesn't drink so much."

"That's his first cup, Mother," Aemond lies, and Aegon sends a silent thank you to the gods for his brother. "We thought we would drink to today's special occasion as siblings."

Alicent nods, "Fine." she agrees. "But Helaena mus get ready now."

Helaena sets down her cup and smiles at her brothers once more. "See you in the Sept." she says. Alicent steps forward and grabs the wine jug from the table before taking Helaena by the hand and leading her to the door. "See you in the Sept" Aegon whispers as Helaena walks past him. His mother stops once more.

"Ser Criston, please make sure that Aegon changes and accompany him to the sept, and remind him that Sunfyre is being guarded by additional guards today," she gives the order before leaving the chambers with Helaena. Aegon sighs, now he has a babysitter too. But at least it's Criston.

"Sit down." Aegon stands up and points to the spot that Helaena has just left. The sworn shield of his mother takes its place. Aegon walks through his chambers and retrieves a new jug of wine from the cupboard. As if he had no reserve. He filles Criston, his brother, and himself a cup and then sits back down in the chair. He would need one more cup of wine before he could put on his wedding attire and make his way to the sept.

Aegon first looks at his brother, then at Criston. He has known this man his whole life, as far back as Aegon can remember, Ser Criston has been his mother's sworn shield.

And as far back as he can remember, he has dutifully carried out her orders. So it is today. He makes sure that Aegon puts on his wedding attire and then takes away the wine so that he doesn't stain the light fabric. The ride in the carriage to the Sept is silent. Aemond rides alongside them on horse back.

Only after Aegon has walked down the long aisle of the great sept, nodded to a few of the Lords and Ladies, and stood next to the Septon at the front, does Ser Criston leave his side and take up his position. Aemond stays next to Aegon, he is glade about his presence. It grounds him. Let him feel less lonley. It takes a moment, but then his mother appears. She smiles when she sees him and nods, then she takes her place next to the king. The Sept becomes quiet. Aegon feels as if he is about to vomit.

Helaena enters the Sept next to her grandfather Otto Hightower. The King felt too weak to walk her down the aisle.

As Helaena steps through the large door, Aegon looks from his brother to the entrance. He has to swallow. Helaena had pinned a delicate veil over her hairstyle, the cream-colored lace cascading down her wedding dress and flowing to the floor. It has the same color as his outfit. They are perfectly matched, as if they belong together. And maybe they do that? Aegon never wanted to admit it, always forbidding himself from even thinking about it,but now he can't help but acknowledge it. Helaena is beautiful. As she gets closer, he realizes that all the people make her uncomfortable. It reveals how she holds onto Otto's hand, her knickles white because of her tight grip. Helaenas gaze shifts restlessly back and forth. But then she looks at Aegon, he is glad that he is smiling at this moment because Helaena also starts smiling. Aegon takes a deep breath and suddenly Otto stands before him, handing over Helaena's hand. Her skin is cold. Aegon carefully pulls back her veil. She is paler than she was an hour ago, yet she bravely keeps a smile on her face.

The Septon begins to speak, but Aegon can hardly understand him. He has a ringing in his ears, he tries to focus on his breathing, but because he can hardly control it, it only makes things worse. Pull yourself together! Breathe in, breathe out. It gets a little better, but it is only the gentle pressure of Helaena's hand that brings him back to the moment. He takes the dagger from the Septon's hand and cuts into his palm, then he hands it to Helaena, and she does the same, grimacing for a brief moment as the blade slices through her skin. When she hands the dagger back to the Septon, her hand trembles. but when Aegon takes her hand, her grip is firm. For a brief moment, Aegon feels her blood running over his hand, but then it mixes with his own and he gets used to it. The Septon binds their joined hands. The only Valyrian part of this wedding ceremony is over, and the Septon is following the script of the Faith of the Seven.

Helaena and Aegon speak the words. They leave a strange feeling on his tongue, but they don't sound wrong. The kiss is nothing more than a slight touch of their lips, and then it’s over. They are married.

He looks at Helaena, she nods and smiles. Then he turns her halfway, and those present begin to clap while the newlyweds walk back down the aisle. Aegon keeps his gaze fixed straight ahead. He cannot look at his mother. Outside a carriage is waiting to take them to a banquet at the Red Keep. Aegon is not hungry. And he doesn't want a banquet, he doesn't want to dance. He would prefer to have something to drink.

Aegon chokes down a bit of the food. Helaena, who is sitting next to him at the high table, hardly touches her food too. Alicent instructed the servants not to give Aegon any wine, but Aemond and Cristion always manage to secretly slip him a cup. Aegon thanks all the gods for the two of them.

Speeches are being given and music is played. Aegon dances exactly one song with Helaena before he flees back to his seat and takes a sip of his wine.

He hates it here, finds all of this repulsive. He can hardly stand to stay in this room for another moment. But he pulls himself together and clings to his chair and his wine.

His gaze sweeps across the room. Helaena is talking with her old nanny. A woman long past her fortieth nameday and one of Helaena's confidants. Alicent couldn't bring herself to send her back home when Helaena got older, so she stays at the Keep in Helaenas services.

Aegon looks at his hands, the nail beds are bloody, yet he can't help but keep picking at his skin. To distract himself he looks at his mother to see if her hands are bloody as well. Alicent sits in here seat next to the king, watching the dancing people. Her foot is tapping to the beat of the music. Aegon had heard that his mother, when she was young, had danced for hours on end with his half-sister. But Viserys is old and sick and hasn't danced in a long time. So his mother doesn't dance anymore either.

The thought is not yet fully formed when Aegon is already on his feet and walking over to his mother. He remembers his courtesies and bows slightly before the queen and the king.

"You allow your Grace?" he says to his father, but he looks at his mother while saying it. She looks surprised at his outstretched hand. Viserys laughs briefly beside him and then suppresses a cough before he responds.

"Of course, of course." his voice almost breaks with joy. Alicent reaches for Aegon's hand and allows him to lead her to the dance floor. The other couples respectfully make room and limit their dancing to the sidelines.

Aegon hopes that enough of the hated dance lessons have stuck with him so that he doesn't completely embarrass himself. But his body seems to remember the dance steps. After a moment of uncertainty he manages to lead his mother safely to the music. She shows a radiant smile, tears welling up in her eyes. Aegon is not quite sure, but he hopes that she is happy.

"I don't know if you remember," Alicent begins to speak softly. "But when you were little, we always danced in my chambers. You were standing on my feet. I hummed the melody because we didn't have any musicians. You always laughed so much." she swallows and her smile trembles.

"I remember it." Aegon lies, feeling a lump forming in his throat. For a brief moment, he does not see his mother, the queen, but Lady Alicent, the young girl she once was. Then guilt overwhelms him, because he is the reason she is no longer that young girl. Through him, she has become a mother. He forced her into the role of a mother.

"And now you are married and grown up." she sounds sad, and Aegon doesn't know what to say. His mother sighs softly, but then confidently executes her dance steps with a quick turn. When Aegon can look at her again, she smiles again. "I am glad that Helaena has you as her husband."

Everything in him wants to scream that she is mistaken. Helaena cannot be happy that he is her husband. But Alicent keeps talking.

"I know that you will protect her. You will be good to her. Because you are my little boy and she my little girl." she sobs and can't manage to keep her smile up. "I'm so sorry."

Aegon is glad that the dance is over at this moment because he feels frozen. His throat is dry, but he knows he has to say something. He wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. His head is empty. And after a blink of an eye, his mother put on her perfect smile again and wearing it like a mask. She takes a step back, and as her hand slips out of his, he feels as if she is slipping away from him. I will not fail you. He wants to say it, but it's too late. Alicent smiles and curtsies, then turns around and walks back to her place next to the king. Viserys claps his hands, and immediately everyone turns to him. Aegon is glad about his father for the first time in his life because he still cannot move.

"It's time. We have decided that there will be no bedding ceremony, so we will now bid farewell to the newlyweds here." Viserys hadn't decided anything at all, it was all his mother. She would probably have burned down the Red Keep before she would have allowed strange men to lift Helaena and tear her clothes off her body. Aegon is glad about that. The attention of the people turns to him, Aegon looks around and is relieved that Helaena is already approaching him. He reaches out his hand and she grabs it. This time her hand doesn't tremble, she stands so close to him that he can feel her body heat. The king stands up unsteadily and reaches for his cup. "Let's drink to the prince and the princess. For health and a good and fruitful marriage." The bystanders also raise their cups. "To the prince and the princess." Helaena and Aegon can only stand there and receive the false blessing. No one cares about them. Aegon can hardly stand it any longer and leads Helaena out of the hall.

Aemond, Ser Criston, and two other Kingsguards follow them to his cambers. He closes the door to his chambers behind Helaena and hin and leans his forehead against the wooden door. He takes a few deep breaths.

Aegon knows that Aemond will now withdraw, just like the Kingsguards. Ser Criston would stand by the door. Aegon's skin crawls at the thought that Criston's task tonight goes beyond just keeping watch. Aegon is not sure if Helaena knows that they are being listened to. He doesn't want to tell her. He is not even sure if he is capable of fulfilling his duty.

Despite it he turns to Helaena. She had taken off her hair ornament from which the veil was hanging and placing it on the table. Her gaze wanders to her things that are already here. Skeptically, she furrows her brows as her fingertips glide over the fabric of the veil.

"Nothing has gone broken." says Aegon. That must surely worry her right? He wishes he could read her thoughts. Are they as confused as her words?

"Tomorrow they will bring the rest of my things," says Helaena, turning her head to look at him. "I'm sorry that you have to share your chambers with me now."

Aegon shrugs his shoulders. It had been a decision, his decision. It doesn't bother him. It is not foreign to him to sleep next to Helaena in a bed. Countless nights, the siblings had crawled into each other's beds. On particularly terrible nights, Aegon had even bring it over him to show up at his mother's doorstep. She never rejected him when he stood before her with tear-streaked cheeks, reeking of wine. She would alway pull him into his arms. No one talked about these nights. It is a silent agreement between Alicent and her children. Aegon imagines that it can be nice to never have to sleep alone again.

"I like having you with me," he says, wanting Helaena to not feel guilty for moving into his chambers.

The two of them are standing indecisively in the room. Aegon would prefer to run away. Instead, he goes to the table and reaches for a cup. "Wine?"

"Mother took your wine with her." Aegon goes to one of the dressers and takes out a carafe with Helaena's favorite wine to pour it into the cup.

"If there's one thing that's for sure it's that I always have some wine hidden somewhere." as he hands her the cup, she smiles gratefully. Helaena takes a big sip while Aegon pours himself a drink. He notices that his hands are not trembling. Only after he has drowned his cup does he dare to say what has been swirling in his mind all evening.

"The dress is beautiful." he takes a deep breath. "You look beautiful."

Helaenas eyes widen in surprise and blood rushes to her cheeks, Helaena begins to play with the fabric of her dress. Now in the candlelight, it shimmers more gold, and Aegon has to swallow at the sight.

"Thank you," she whispers.

Is she insecure? Did he unsettle her? Words form on his tongue, but he swallows them down. He stares at Helaena, he knows he should look away but he can't. Forget it. That's just Helaena. His Helaena? He has known her her whole life. She is now his wife. She is now his Helaena. Or maybe she has always been his? Always been a part of him?

"Is it okay if I say that kind of things?" he feels dumb and insecure. A smile appears on Helaena's face. Aegon is sure that it is real.

"Yes, it's okay. I just didn't expect it. You've never said that you think I'm beautiful."

Aegon takes a deep breath. He chooses absolute honesty, only then does he feel like he is not failing. He has always tried to be better than he is. Now he has to be better than he is. For Helaena. He has no other choice.

"I have never thought it. I forbade myself to see you this way years ago. But today I couldn't help it," he explains. Helaena nods and then takes a sip from her cup before pushing it aside.

"I chose the color of the fabric myself, and then Mother had your festive outfit coordinated with it. It was nice to be able to make a decision." Aegon furrows his brows, trying to find the deeper meaning in her words. Is there even one?

"Can you help me take it off?" It's a bit heavy. Or should I call the maids?"

"No, I can help you," he says quickly. When the doors to these chambers are opened once more, he knows that he cannot hold himself back and would run.

Helaena turns around and Aegon begins to untie the laces of the dress at her back. To his surprise, Helaena starts giggling after a moment.

"What is funny?"

"I was just thinking that you've probably done that a few times already." again, she giggles. She doesn't seem to be angry at all that he has already been with other women. Aegon's lips also curl into a smile.

"Yes. I've done this a few times," he admits as he carefully pulls the fabric over the loose strings, causing the dress to slip from Helaena's shoulders. His breath catches for a moment before he forces himself to take a step back. Helaena pulls the dress off her body, the fabric pooling around her feet, and she steps forward out of her shoes and the dress. Aegon suppresses the need to take a step back again.

Under ber dress, Helaena is wearing a silk nightgown. Aegon can't help but stare at her.

"We can talk around it for half the evening now, but you know what still needs to happen for me to truly be your wife."

Aegon flinches slightly at her words. She is clearly braver than he is. He starts fiddling with his hands again.

"You are right," he says softly.

"I don't know what to do." Helaena says, fiddling with the white fabric of her nightgown.

They dressed her up for him, and that's wicked, and it drives him crazy that it works. He forces himself to turn his gaze away from the almost transparent fabric and the curves beneath it.

Aegon thinks about the whores he takes. Always fast and hard, he never looks them in the eyes, they always have bruises when he is done. He looks at Helaena's pale skin, and when he imagines that it is also stained with bruises, he wants to crawl out of his own skin.

"I don't know either." Silence spreads before Helaena hesitantly begins to speak. "But you already have done…I mean, I often hear about your visits to the brothel."

Aegon laughs joylessly. "Yes," he answers to her unasked question.

He doesn't even need to ask if Helaena is a maiden. Not only did she grew up  under the watchful eyes of her mother as a princess in the Reed Keep, but she is Helaena, the girl who sometimes can hardly bear it when her mother holds her hand. Helaena in a passionate embrace with a man? Aegon can't even imagine it. And in the next moment, he realizes that he has to do the unimaginable today.

"So you know what we have to do?" her cheeks are flushing and stand in contrast to the radiant white of her nightgown. On top of that, the way she looks at him with her big eyes paints the perfect picture of innocence.

Aegon knows that he will be send into the deepest of the Seven Hells because he cannot suppress the burning desire that this sight awakens in him. He wants to take away her innocence. He is a wicked man.

"What happened in Silk Street and in the brothels are things that you don´t do to your wife."

"Oh."

He glances at her briefly, and this time he is sure that she is insecure. He doesn't want her to feel that way. It is now his task to take that  from her. He will not fail. Aegon briefly closes his eyes to sort his thoughts before he speaks.

"There are two ways we can do this. We can see this whole thing as an obligation. We handle it like a task or we try to find passion and pleasure in it. "

"Pleasure? How?"

Aegon must pull himself together so that his thoughts don't drift off to all the ways that could worship her body. Instead he takes a step closer to her. Aegon hesitates for a moment, then places a hand on her cheek. She does not flinch at his touch.

"I can't explain it. I want to show it to you. May I kiss you?"

Helaena nods slightly, and Aegon leans in further and places his lips on hers. The kiss is only brief, like a test. Aegon doesn't know what he had expected, but not that a pleasant warmth would spread within him. And also not that Helaena follows him when he wants to withdraw. He stops and her lips are already on his again.

This kiss is more passionate than he had expected, and Aegon feels a shiver run through him as she parts her lips for him, allowing his tongue to glide over hers. Breathless, Helaena pulls away from him. She rests her forehead against his, Aegon's thumb caress over her neck.

"Did I do it right?" she asks softly. Aegon feels that the only appropriate reaction would be to sink to his knees and pray to her. Instead, he curses quietly before he answers.

"That was perfect. You are perfect."

He strokes her cheeks and kisses her briefly once more. Helena's hands wander over his clothed chest.

"Can you take that off?" she asks, a slight blush already shimmering over her cheeks. Aegon feels the need to relieve some tension from the situation.

"Should the answer to this question ever be no, please take a dagger and stab me," she giggles softly like he had hope. Aegon begins to unbutton his shirt, but Helaena places her hands on his. They are a little warmer than before.

"May I?"

Aegon nods at her question, and Helaena opens his shirt. Her fingers gently glide over the exposed skin, and a shiver runs through Aegon's body. It tickles slightly, and Aegon can't remember the last time someone touched him so tenderly. Gently Helaena strokes his upper body, and Aegon places his hands on her hips. She stops a his chest for a moment they simply stand there breathing in each other's scent. Aego feels calm like he hasn't felt in weeks or was it months?

"Can you let your hair down for me?" Aegon asks into the silence.

Helaena smiles and nods. Then she takes a step back and starts pulling hairpins out of her hairstyle. Aegon's hands lose contact with her hips, and he has to suppress a sigh. While Helaena undoes her braids, she walks back to the table and places her hair clips on it. Aegon pushes his shirt off his shoulders. He runs both hands over his face and takes a deep breath once more. Then he looks over at Helaena. She had already undone almost all of her braids, and her blonde hair was falling over her back. Aegon slowly approaches her. When she undoes the last braid, he places his hands back on her hips and gently pulls her closer to him. She leans into his touch. Aegon stands behind her and gently brushes her blonde hair from her neck and over her shoulder with one hand. Slowly, he leans down and kisses her neck.

Helaena gasps for air, goosebumps rise on her neck.

Aegon is very aware of these two facts, and they send a hot desire racing up his spine. His lips wander up her neck to her earlobe. "I'm not good enough for you," Aegon whispers in her ear. "I am a sick man."

She responds in a heartbeat. "Then I am also a sick woman." Helaene's voice trembles. Aegon needs a moment to understand what she has said. She wants him, desires him. Presumably not in the same twisted way, but in her own way, she desires him. She turns to him, letting her hands wander over his bare arms and shoulders until they rest on his neck.

There is no trace of hesitancy as she speaks. "I want to choose option two. I want to try it with passion and pleasure."

Aegon can no longer resist her. His lips crash onto hers. Helaena presses herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Aegon turns them both around, his lips wandering over her cheeks to her neck. He lightly sucks on the pale skin, and Helaeana lets out a moan.

In this moment, Aegon vows to himself that he will find every spot on her body that makes her make those sounds again. He needs all his willpower to tear himself away from her one last time.

"Helaena you look like a goddess in that nightgown but you have to take it off, otherwise I will have to tear it."

Once again Aegon is relieved that she is giggling. Helaena takes half a step back and reaches for the hem of her nightgown to pull it over her head. The fabric carelessly lands on the floor. Aegon doesn't even try to stop himself from letting his gaze wander over her naked body. Of course, she is perfect for him in every way. Hot disire washs over him, like he never experience before.

"Perfect. You are perfect. Beautiful." he says before even a trace of uncertainty can appear in her. Helaena smiles. Aegon glides her to the side of his bed. As she stands before him, his arms slide to her knee pit, and with a smooth motion, he lifts her onto the bed. Helaena shifts and adjusts a bit on the soft sheets.

This morning, Aegon had observed how the maids had changed the bed sheets with fresh white sheets. Sheets just for this one night. Aegon quickly pushes the thought away. He wants to concentrate on the beautiful, naked woman in his bed now.

He follows Helaena onto the bed. His lips find hers again as he bends over her. Helaena's hands caress his shoulders and Aegon gets goosebumps.

Some of his blood has long since wander down from his brain and he feels his hardness pressing against his pants. The kiss becomes more intense and he lets a little more of his weight sink onto her. Helaena leans towards him and wraps her legs around his waist. The sudden contact makes Aegon moan softly. Helaena rubs herself against him and moans softly into the kiss. Her hands clench and he feels her nails lightly scratching the skin on his shoulders. Aegon suppresses a curse and a groan.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He has to make sure one last time that he is not completely misinterpreting this whole situation. He has to make sure that he is not failing her.

"Yes, I am fine. That feels good." Helaena answers him quietly.

"Yes." he groans. "But you have to stop." She stops moving immediately and takes her legs off him, afraid of doing something wrong, but Aegon continues. "Otherwise I'll come in my pants like a twelve-year-old."

"Is that a bad thing?" she asks innocently and strokes the hair on his neck.

"Well, that would be very embarrassing for me." he grins at her neck and moves a little lower to her breasts. Gently he presses her hips down with one hand to prevent her from unconsciously rub against him again. It turns him on so much that he would probably actually come in his pants. Aegon kisses her breast while his other hand gently strokes the other's nipple. Helaena lays her head back on the pillow and bends towards his hand. Her breathing is rapid and Aegon has never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. He would like to sink his teeth into the pale skin under his lips. He wants to mark her as his, but he suppresses this urge. She is innocent. Don't drag her into your abyss. At least try to keep her away from that abyss for as long as possible.

Instead he pushes his hand along her hips a little further towards her middle. Would she let him touch her there? His hand wanders a little lower and then he notices how Helaena spreads her legs further for him. She makes room for him and Aegon lets his hand wander the last bit. When he notices how wet she is, he groans. The next moment he lets go of her breasts and instead bends up to kiss her lips. Helaena gasps at his sudden movement. Aegon wipes his finger on the bedsheet and puts his other hand on Helaena's cheek. She looks at him curiously he also recognizes lust in her eyes.

"I want you to relax. Is that possible?"

"Yes." Helaena leans back slightly into the pillows her hands sliding from his shoulders and resting on the soft bed linens beside her body.

"Good." says Aegon and kisses her lips once more. "You have to tell me if something doesn't please you or doesn't feel right." he kisses her cheeks and plays with one of her strands of hair. "And you have to tell me when you like something and it feels good." he kisses her other cheek, and Helaena giggles softly again. "Can you promise me that?"

"I promise it."

"Good Girl." his voice is a bit rough, and Helaena whimpers beneath him. Aegon's lips wander again over her neck, his hands gently glide over her body. He takes his time. He caresses the soft skin of her perfect hips, letting his lips and tongue wander over her nipples and kissing down her belly. He enjoys the feeling of her writhing beneath him, the soft whimpering and moaning searing into his brain, and Aegon already knows that he will become rock hard just from the memory. He shifts his weight back and sits back. Helaena's breath comes heavily, and she looks at him with half-closed pleasure-drenched eyes. Aegon lets his gaze wander over her perfect body. They say Targaryen are closer to gods than humans and as she lies naked in front of him, Aegon believes it. He looks forward to all the future nights he will spend exploring every inch of her body. Then he makes himself comfortable between her legs. He places her slender leg over his shoulder and begins to kiss her thigh. Helaena gasps slightly in shock, but then reaches out to him and his touches. Aegon kisses her thigh downwards with practiced ease. If Aegon learned anything during his years in Flea Bottom and Silk Street than how to satisfy a woman. Her wetness glistens slightly in the candlelight, and Aegon can hardly wait to taste her. The desire surprises him but he allows it. Enjoys it even so he let himself dive into his lust.

Just before he finally reaches her center with his lips Helaena flinches slightly and sits up a bit in bed. Aegon lets her withdraw and loosens his grip around her legs slightly as he looks up at her.

"Is that appropriate?" Helaean asks, and Aegon could die right here and now because he has seen all the beauty of this world. He lightly kisses the inner side of her thigh and lets his fingers glide over her bare skin.

"Yes" he replies then. "That is even necessary so that you have as little pain as possible."

"The pain is going to be bad, isn't it?"

"I don't know." he says honestly. He had never cared about the woman pain. Now nothing is more important to him than Helaena's well-being. "But I am as careful as I can be. Hurting you is the last thing I want."

"Okay. I trust you, Aegon." she lies back down on the pillow and stretches out toward him again. Aegon thanks the gods for Helaena before he kisses down her thigh again and finally he can close his lips over her center. Helaena gasps and Aegon pulls back slightly to give her a moment to adjust to the new feeling. Her wet middle is right in front of him and he has to hold himself back from diving into her as if she is his last meal. Aegon can hardly wait to slide his cock between her wet folds. At the thought his cock twitches in his pants. Aegon closes his eyes for a moment. He needs to pull himself together. He can´t fail now. Not with Helaena.

He leans forward again and as his tongue glides gently through her folds. He can't suppress a moan. She tastes better than anything that has ever touched his lips. She flinches slightly, but Aegon gently holds her at her thighs. He dives into her, licking carefully upwards to her clitoris. He carefully sucks on it and is rewarded with a moan from Helaena. Aegon needs all his willpower not to completely dive in. Pull yourself together! You can´t overwhelm her.

So Aegon takes his time, his tongue explores her folds, leaving no spot untouched. He lets his tongue glide over her center and her pearl, alternating the rhythm and intensity. He remembers exactly which spot, which movement elicits a whimper or moan from Helaena. She writhes beneath him, stretching out towards him.

"Aegon." his name slips from her lips as her hand buries itself in his blonde hair. It's over, all restraint is breaking down. He dives deep in. His tongue glides into her, curling inside her. Once again, she moans his name. Aegon feels her moisture running down his chin, soaking him. He licks up every single drop. She twitches, her legs begin to tremble, and her hands claw into the sheet beneath her.

"Aegon stop."

Immediately he withdraws although everything in him screams to continue. Worry floods through him. Was it too much? Did he fail? He looks up at her.

"Are you in pain?"

"No. It felt good. But there was such a tension in me, a knot. Is that normal?"

Aegon has to bite his lips to avoid cursing or groaning. His cock twitches at the thought that Helanena ruined her first orgasm because of her innocence. It shouldn't turn him on that much. He is wicked.

"Yes, that is normal. Let it happen. It will feel good." he leans forward again and sucks on her pearl. "Let yourself fall."

She relaxes again, trusts him completely with her body. Helaena lets out a sigh as Aegon glides his tongue between her folds once more, Her legs tremble again. She writhes beneath him, but Aegon only quickens his tongue's strokes. Helaena moans loudly, Aegon notices how she pulsates around his tongue and starts to twitch. And then she comes onto his tongue. Her whole body shakes as she leans toward him once more before collapsing with a groan. He carefully licks up her cum wanting to taste every drop. Only when she stops twitching and pulsating he lets go from her.

Trembling and breathing heavily she looks at him with wide eyes. He kisses the inside of her thighs, caresses her belly, her hips. Under his fingertips, she gets goosebumps. His cock pulses almost painfully against his pants.

"Are you good?"

She nods vigorously. "Yes. I´m good. It was... I have no idea what that was. I let myself fall." she sighs and lets her head fall back into the soft pillows. Her loose hair forms a crown around her head. Once again Aegon can't help but think that she looks like a goddess. How could he have been so blind all this time? "Is it always like this? I mean, if we share the bed, will it always feel this good?" she asks while stroking his neck and running her fingers through his hair.

Aegon doesn't even try to suppress a moan at her touch. He lets his lips wander over the soft skin again. He can't get enough. She leans towards him again, relaxing right beneath him. He breaks free to answer her.

"I will do my best to make you always feel like this." he says secretly vowing to himself that he will never come with his cock near her before the bed sheets are stained with her wetness and she has moaned his name at least once in a moment of passionate climax. His hand caresses her waist, she doesn't flinch. "Are you ready?" he asks before kissing her slender belly.

"For the consummation? Yes!"

He laughs softly. He would have never dared to dream that she is so eager to be dishonored by him.

"Not yet." he carefully slides a finger into her. Helaena gasps for air, but she doesn't pull away. "How does this feel?"

"It feels strange. But not bad. Unfamiliar."

He nods, pushing his finger a little deeper into her tightness, up to the second knuckle. He carefully curled his finger. Helaena stretches towards him she doesn´t even trying to suppress her whimpers and moans. Her wetness runs over his hands, he carefully adds a second finger. She is so damn tight that for a brief moment he doubts if she can take him. He moves his fingers slowly and then slightly spread them, trying to prepare her. His thumb caresses over her clitoris. Helaena cries out in pleasure and begins to move with him. Aegon stops his movement for a moment, but Helaena simply starts to pleasure herself on his fingers. He can't take his eyes off this sight. He has never seen anything so hot. He notices how she pulses around his fingers, her hips moving faster. Aegon can't wait any longer. It must be enough. He has to have her now. Aegon carefully pulls his fingers out of her. She lets out a disappointed whimper. He sits up, letting his gaze wander over her body once more. His eyes stop on her breasts with the erect nipples. He bends forward to close his lips around it. His cock is throbbing painfully again and craving his attention. Aegon thoughts start racing, he definitely doesn't want to hurt her and is afraid that he is too big for her.

"Let's switch places. You can sit on me, then you can have the control," Aegon suggests. Helaena briefly furrows her brows as she thinks, then her cheeks turn red and she shakes her head.

"What if I do something wrong?"

"You can't do anything wrong," he explains to her, stroking her cheek. She leans into his touch, close her eyes for a moment. Aegon yields to the need, leans forward and kisses her forehead.

"I am unsure," says Helaena. "Is there another way?"

"Oh sweet Helaena," he sighs kisses her cheek. Thenhe wanders with his lips to her neck and then up to her earlobe. He bites carefully, and Helaena lets out a soft moan. Her eyes stay closed as she tilts her head to the side to give him more space. "There are thousands ways and if you allow it, I will show you each and every one." She giggles softly. When he sucks on her neck, she moans.

"Yes please," she says. Aegon thinks for a second that he's going to comes like a twelve-year-old. He releases her neck braces himself on his arms to avoid putting all his weight on her, and looks at her. Her eyes are drenched in desire, a few dops of sweat have gathered on her forehead. His gaze lingers on the red hickey on her neck. It is clearly marked on her porcelain skin. He has marked her as his own. Aegon takes a deep breath and kisses her briefly on the lips. He climbs out of bed and starts to unbutton his pants. Helaena watches him. As he pulls down his pants and his member springs free, her eyes widen slightly. He is hard and pre-cum is leaking from the tip. Helaena looks like a shocked deer. Aegon knows that he is not small, above average and for the first time in his life, he wishes it weren't like this. Everything in him resists causing her pain. He comes back to bed positioning himself between her legs which she opens for him. He kisses her, and Helaena returns the kiss, their tongues playing around each other. Her hands caress his neck, running up and down his back and over his shoulders. Everywhere she touches him he gets goosebumps and his skin tingles. Aegon lets his hands wander over her breasts, his lips move over her neck, continuing down to her collarbone and then to her breasts. He sucks on her nipple while his fingers caress the other one. She gasps and stretches out towards him again, her hips twitching and her waist rubbing against his shaft. Aegon groans at her breasts. He extends his hardness into her moisture. Helaena crys and he captures her lips in a kiss. Aegon shifts his weight slightly and pushes his tip between her folds. Helaena takes a sharp breath. Aegon needs every shred of self-control not to mercilessly hammer into her. Hot desire races up his spine, he feels how his cock twitches inside her. He has to breathe deeply to avoid coming right away. His hand grips her hip, he gently presses her into the sheets to keep her still. If she twitched upwards now, he wouldn't be able to hold back. He needs it to ground himself. Slowly, he pushes himself forward. She whimpers beneath him, slightly grimacing in pain. Aegon stops in his movement.

"Should we stop?"

"No!" she claws at his shoulders, the slight pain as her nails dig into his skin makes him moan softly. "Please don't. I want the Aegon." she leans up to him and kisses him. This time it is her tongue that glides into his mouth and plays with his.

He continues to sink into her his tip gliding inside her, she is so damn tight. Aegon noticed how her wetness ran down his cock. He feels a resistance and stops. He slowly pulls out again. He caresses her body, kisses her soft skin, and then slowly thrusts in again. This time she manages to take him a little further before he pulls back again. Inch by inch he slides inside her.

Helaena tenses up a bit while Aegon tries to distract her with kisses, kissing her neck and allowing himself to nibble on her skin. Careful not to leave any bite marks. With his next thrust, Helaena bites her lip to keep from screaming as he fully enters her for the first time. Aegon's whole body is tense as his cock is enveloped by her warm tightness. He trembles but tries to stay as still as possible while she gets used to him. Helaena takes a deep breath. Then she places her hand on Aegon's cheek strokes it and smiles.

"I'm doing well," she says even though tears are welling up in her eyes. Aegon can't help but kiss her. It is a soft, innocent kiss. But only for a few moments. Helaena wraps her arms around his neck, pulls him closer, and then pushes her hips forward as a sign that she is ready. Aegon moans at her lips. He completely withdraws only to then glide fully between her folds again.

What has he done to deserve something so good? He is a broken man. A sick man. But as he sinks into the wet warmth between her legs, he is sure that the gods have forgiven all his sins and rewarding him with heaven.

He maintains a slow rhythm, even though everything in him screams to selfishly take her and spill his seed deep inside her. Helaena moves her hips with his, her breath quickens, her kisses become sloppy. Aegon reaches for her hand, intertwining their fingers. With the next thrust, Helaena moans again and wraps her legs around his hips. So she pushes him further inside her and Aegon curses against her lips. He won't last long.

Aegons hand wanders between her bodies and he begins to gently rub her pearl with the flat of his hand while continuing to thrust into her. She moves with him, fitting him like a glove. Aegon feels as if they fit together perfectly. Sweat drips from his forehead. He notices how she trembles again, her walls pulsating around him as she moans. His name falls from her lips. Aegon quickens his movements around her clit, and then she comes. As she pulls him in and starts clenching abround him, she drags him over the cliff with her. Aegon moans her name like a prayer as he comes, painting her walls white as he spills into her. He moves his hips carefully, riding out their orgasms before collapsing on top of her. He tries to keep his weight off her, but she wraps herself around him and pulls him closer. Helaena starts to scratch his neck. Aegon buries his face in the curve of her neck and takes a deep breath of her scent while trying to calm his pulse. He notices how Helaena is still pulsating around him. He gently pushes his hip a little forward. Helaena inhales sharply before she lets out a groan. A moan escapes his lips as he gently thrusts one last time, and then they both sink into each other, completely overstimulated. For a few heartbeats they remain like that. Helaena tucks a blonde strand of hair behind his ears. Aegon leans into her touch.

"You did not fail me," she whispers in his ear. Aegon notices how tears gather in his eyes. He quickly closes his eyes to prevent himself from crying. He breathes in the scent of Helaena's hair deeply and swallows his tears. For a brief moment, he still enjoys the feeling of her scratching his neck. Then Aegon carefully pulls himself out of her and rolls from her.

He doesn't know what to say. Should he say anything at all? Or would he say exactly the wrong thing now? Aegon remains silent and simply pulls Helaena into his arms instead. He kisses her lips and then her forehead. She wraps her arms around him and snuggles up to him. Gently, her fingertips glide over his shoulders. Aegon closes his eyes and pulls her closer to him at her waist.

Helaena takes a deep breath, turns slightly in his arm to look at him.

"The way you have give me pleasure." she starts. "How can I do that for you?" Aegon laughs softly and kisses her forehead. "Oh sweet wife. First of all it gives me the greatest satisfaction to see you come, and secondly, we still have enough time for that." Helaena smiles and nods. She snuggles back into his arms. Of course, her head fits perfectly in the crook of his shoulder.

"Okay sweet Husband."

It's the first time she calls him that and it makes Aegon's heart race for a brief moment. Maybe he wouldn't drag her into his abyss. Maybe she would pull him a little away from his darkness.

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 18

Masterpost Read on AO3

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: As an update, I am eyeing another chapter after this followed by an epilogue. A nice, even 20 parts. Thank you, as always, to everyone who reads, comments, shares, and otherwise supports this fic. I love you all so much. Now for some healing!

---

December 11 Nassau Bay, TX

A house is nothing but four walls and a roof, a place to live, a place to sleep. It doesn’t have to be anything special. It doesn’t have to mean anything at all.

A home, on the other hand, tells a story. Its walls are infused with the memories of a life lived, for better or worse, within their bounds. It’s made what it is not because of its structure, but because of the people who make it their own, all the little moments etched in time.

Growing up, Gale thought a lot about the difference between a house and a home, never quite sure which one he had. The little house he grew up in was nothing special. He doesn’t remember it fondly. He doesn’t have a particular desire to remember it at all. And yet, when he thinks about the off-white walls of that old living room, he can see himself playing on the carpet in front of the worn sofa, flying a toy F/A-18 Hornet through the make-believe sky. It had been a birthday gift from his dad, who was arguably proud of his son, if absolutely nothing else, because of his interest in aircraft. 

Gale can see his father leaning against the wall by the door, watching him. Little Gale looks up at him with an excited grin as he makes whirring little engine noises, and his father gives a barely-there half smile back – Gale had to get that facial expression from somewhere, after all.

He can also remember the day he didn’t hear his dad calling his name because he was lost in the clouds, dreaming about flying a real jet someday. He remembers the way his dad stormed into that same living room, ripped the toy jet from his tiny hand. The way he sneered at the pale, vulnerable look on his child son’s face, scolded him for daydreaming when he should have been doing his chores. Maybe it was taking out the trash. Or doing the dishes. Or sweeping the porch.

Or maybe he did nothing wrong and his dad was just drunk again. 

Either way, Gale remembers the way his dad threw that F/A-18 at the wall, the way the wing snapped right off. He remembers the way his dad shoved him when he cried, called him pathetic, said he needed to start acting like a man.

Later on, his dad repaired the wing with some super glue, but it never looked quite right again.

Gale has a lot of memories like that. A little good mixed with a lot of bad. The walls of that house told a story alright. He just doesn’t think it’s a story that ever earned it the title of home.

When he remembers the kitchen – light yellow walls, gray cabinets, a gas stove – he thinks about early days of his childhood, clinging to his mom’s bright, flowery skirt as she baked cookies that tasted like heaven. He remembers her light, comforting voice saying his name. He thinks about how she let him lick the spoon, asked him what sprinkles he wanted to use, let him help put the dough on the baking sheet with small, innocent hands. 

But then he also thinks about setting the kitchen table for dinner, his dad burning his arm with a cigarette for breaking a glass. Or maybe it was a plate. He thinks about fingers wrapped tight around his teenage throat when he came back home too late one night. He can practically feel the bruises, hear the impact of being shoved unceremoniously against the door. Next time he was late, his dad threatened, he’d spend the night in the yard with the dog. 

Other than the fact that it was nearing December and night time temperatures were below freezing, Gale couldn’t decide if that would be so bad. He got smacked for that, too. 

When he thinks of the small master bedroom, he thinks of his mother. One day there, the next day gone. He remembers the smell of her perfume filling the room. Little Gale, still too young to understand why she wasn’t coming home. Why that scent would fade away, becoming nothing but a memory, something to pop up randomly here and there in his adult life and fill him with some sense of longing. He thinks about his father cleaning out all of her clothes, chastising Gale for not wanting to get rid of any of it, for trying to sneak out a shirt or a scarf that smelled like her. 

Then there were two. Hardly a family, and far from a home.

The house on Nassau Bay couldn’t be more opposite.

He stands in the middle of the living room, looking around at the life he’s built. Warm, light beige walls decorated with artwork, prints of aircraft and spacecraft, photographs of his de facto family. Framed pictures of him and John are scattered around. In the middle of the room, across from their TV, is a coffee table, two armchairs, and a well-worn gray couch, semi-permanently occupied by Pepper and sometimes Meatball. Morning sunlight fills the room, leaving patches of light on the hardwood floor.

Gale has spent the last hour adjusting the furniture layout – spreading out the coffee table and chairs to make space, shifting the couch back so it’s under the window, putting away stray dog toys and shoes, cleaning up the blankets and pillows he’d been using to sleep out here – just to make it easier for Bucky to move around in a wheelchair or on crutches. He even rolled up the rug to keep the floor even.

He’s been obsessively doing anything and everything he can to make their home a comfortable space while Bucky heals. He bought a shower chair for the master bath and a plastic cover to put over Bucky’s cast to protect it from water. He bought an assortment of loose sweatpants, flannel pants, and shorts so Bucky has more options for what to wear over his cast. The kitchen has been stocked with his favorites of late. Soup, chicken and rice, or eggs for when he’s not feeling well. Or richer things like pastas and casseroles. There’s orange juice and smoothies and jell-o. And Marge – who rested a hand on either of Gale’s shoulders and told him to take a rest – is making chocolate chip cookies. 

As Gale stands back and studies his work in the living room, trying to decide if it looks alright, his chest feels tight in a way he can’t quite explain.

As a young adult, he never bothered with buying a house, choosing instead to rent something out wherever he was stationed with the Air Force. When he and John both got selected to the astronaut training program based in Houston, they intrinsically knew that it was the right time to take that step. A sort of settling down, even though they were preparing to quite literally launch themselves off the face of the planet. Admittedly, they didn’t spend too long looking for a house, seeing maybe two or three local listings which were all perfectly fine. Then one day, Benny, who had been accepted into the program the year before, mentioned that a house down the street from him was for sale.

Gale fell in love with it the moment he saw it. And John loved it because Gale did.

It’s a one story, ranch-style house on a quiet street just a 5 or 10 minute walk from the water. A beautiful white brick and stone exterior with a sweet little front garden that they try to plant flowers in every year – an endeavor that often includes Gale trying to find plants that match the climate and sun exposure of their yard, while Bucky insists on “experimenting.” There’s also a backyard with a large patio for entertaining and enough grass space for the dogs to run around. 

Gale remembers the day they moved in, sweating from the July heat but grinning from ear to ear with the excitement of a young couple on the verge of their future. Before they even started unloading the U-Haul, he stood in the middle of the empty, echoing house, staring at the walls, the ceiling, the windows. He couldn’t believe it was theirs. A place they could really make a life together. A place that he could call home, maybe for the first time in his entire life. Bucky found him standing, wide-eyed, in the living room. He wrapped his arms around Gale from behind, kissed him on the cheek, ducked down to rest his chin on his shoulder. 

“Welcome home, angel.”

Gale remembers dragging the couch through the door, collapsing down on it that first day. They sat, leaning against one another, surrounded by shoddily labeled, mixed up cardboard boxes full of their belongings. Exhausted, Gale said something noncommittal about getting to work unpacking. But John pulled him to his feet, kissed him silly, lead him to the bedroom where their new mattress lay on the floor, bed frame yet to be constructed. 

They lived off cereal and takeout for several days in a row, but they sure did break in every piece of furniture, every surface.

He remembers hot, desperate reunions when they each returned from their respective ISS expeditions, touching each other for the first time in six months. Their hands roamed over one another’s bodies with an insatiable desire to relearn every inch of each other. Bucky would grip his waist so hard he thought it might bruise, pressing him against the wall or the bed. Gale would twist his fingers into Bucky’s hair, kiss every place he could touch. He remembers it being rough and kind, a sense of desperation driving them to claim one another all over again as if the last time they were together was a lifetime ago.

He remembers late nights with their friends, Curt crashing on the couch, Benny or Marge in the guest room, sometimes Rosie or Alex on the floor. Midnights spent drinking and laughing, dumb jokes and good people. He remembers this house being filled with more people than it was meant to hold, buzzing with life.

He remembers the day they brought Pepper home, almost a year ago now. She was nothing more than a tiny, 10 week old ball of fluff with one ear still flopped over. He remembers the way they sat on the rug in the living room with her that evening, completely enamored with their new addition. “We’re a little family now,” Bucky said, smiling at Gale as he held the puppy up to his face. Gale scrunched his nose and closed his eyes, laughing as Pepper licked his cheek. Next thing he knew, Bucky’s lips were on his, and he felt himself melt a little inside.

Family. Home. Family. Home. 

They’re not words Gale takes lightly. They’re words that he will protect. Even though they’ve only been here a handful of years, this house tells their story, memories built on memories that he holds close to his heart in a way he never knew he was allowed to before. 

When he thinks of their kitchen, he thinks about making pancakes on Christmas morning, flour everywhere, chocolate chips and blueberries and chopped bananas spilling across the counter. Bucky singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio. He’d pull Gale close, plucking the spatula from his hand, and convince him to dance with him around the island until they were both giggling like children and the pancakes were starting to burn.  

When he looks at the front door, he thinks about all the times Bucky flung it open, yelling “honey I’m home!” as he walked inside. Sometimes he’d bring flowers for the vase in the window or pastries from Gale’s favorite bakery. He thinks about stumbling through on their wedding night, eager and drunk on nothing but love for each other. 

When he thinks about their yard, still drenched in sun and warmth in the middle of December, he thinks about the day he and Bucky stood in the middle of it, holding tight to each other's hands as they held the keys to their new home. He thinks about washing their cars in the summer, chasing each other with the hose. He thinks about Pepper and Meatball running outside to greet him. He thinks about standing in the driveway and watching Bucky teach some of the neighborhood kids how to ride a bike up and down the quiet road. 

Of course, the house holds bad memories, too. Fights they’ve had, times they’ve lost their temper, raised their voices, slammed a door or walked away. Times Gale cried alone because John was in space for months on end and he missed the closeness, the warmth, the weight of John’s head resting on his chest, the soothing sound of his heartbeat. Times John got drunk for the same reason, wanting nothing more than to hold Gale tight and kiss him in the dark. Still too fresh in Gale’s mind is the memory of collapsing to the floor, Marge rocking him in her arms because he didn’t know if his husband would come home alive. 

The walls will hold onto that memory. They won’t let him forget that the life he built here with John Egan very nearly became nothing but a flash in his mind, moments to look back on fondly, with a watery smile and a choked sob, a whispered I miss you. 

That almost might never leave. It’ll be months before Gale can wake up in the morning secure in the knowledge that his husband is here with him. It’ll be months before he stops jolting awake with tears in his eyes and a scream in his throat. It’ll be months of hard work and pain and frustration to make Bucky feel whole again. 

But it’s time to start pushing forward. 

Gale has never been a particularly religious man, but he will gladly thank whatever Gods may be listening, because his prayers were answered. Starting today, two weeks after splashdown, there will be memories of John coming home to add to all the rest.  

“Buck?”

Gale looks over to see Rosie standing in the entryway to the living room. 

“Ready to go?”

Taking one last look around, Gale starts to nod, then stops short. “The mirror.”

He didn’t replace the damn mirror in the master bath. Benny was the one to clean the bathroom, dispose of the glass fragments and scrub the tile until it was free of Gale’s blood. Gale’s barely even stepped foot in there in weeks, choosing instead to use the guest bath. 

Marge appears from the kitchen. “Benny’s on his way with a new one,” she assures him. “We’ll get it set up before you’re back.”

Gale doesn’t know what to say, so he nods dumbly as he twists his wedding ring around his finger, trying to quiet the storm of worries and hopes and needs and fears buzzing around in his head. Marge steps towards him and pulls him into a hug. “Take a breath, hon. He’s coming home.”

—

It’s raining, just the littlest bit. It’ll be done by the time they walk through the hospital doors, but dark clouds gather in the sky, casting shadows over the ground and darkening the hospital room. It makes Gale’s heart constrict with an unease, a sense of foreboding. He tries to shake it off, because he’s not in his bedroom on a stormy night. He’s not being jostled awake by Benny. His world isn’t crashing down with the water falling from the sky.

He leans against the doorframe of Bucky’s hospital room, hands shoved in his pockets, and he watches his husband for a moment. Bucky is looking out the window, watching the rain fall, the cars go by. He’s dressed in the same shorts and Air Force Thunderbirds t-shirt as he was the day before. A half finished plate of scrambled eggs, potatoes, and fruit sits on the tray beside him from breakfast, seemingly pushed aside and forgotten. Gale wonders if he didn’t finish because he felt sick or because he’s protesting hospital food. 

He looks healthy, despite the whole being in a hospital thing. That damn cold lingers, making him stuffy, his face sore from the pressure. His lungs protest when he breathes too deeply, or sometimes even when he doesn’t, and the cough won’t go away. Not to mention the broken leg. But he has color back in his cheeks. His eyes are clear, his face unworried. His heart beats steadily, and he’s able to breathe well enough without the cannula.

“Hey, darlin’,” Gale says at last.

Bucky turns his head, and he stares at Gale for a good second or two, uncomprehendingly. But then a grin spreads over his face. “Hey, angel.”

Gale feels his heart swell, and he takes a deep breath before stepping into the room. As he sits on the edge of the bed, Bucky grabs his hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles. 

“How ya feelin’ today?”

Bucky shrugs, looking down at their intertwined hands. He coughs once, holding his breath for a second to prevent it from getting worse. “I ain’t dead.” He squints, cocking his head like something is bugging him, but then he looks up and meets Gale’s worried gaze. “Almost went down in history for the wrong reasons, huh?”

John Egan. First astronaut to die on the moon. What a headline that would be.

Gale chuckles even though the acknowledgement of that damn almost makes him feel physically ill. “Think you’re goin’ down in history?” He forces back the flashing mental image of a tri-folded flag, a three volley salute, a missing man formation. 

Bucky’s eyes have that mischievous glint back, that look of invincibility, like he’s daring the universe to take another stab at him. “Oh yeah. The world will remember John fuckin’ Egan.”

And the thing is, Gale knows they will. 

By 1pm, Major John Egan is being discharged from the hospital. Paperwork complete, Gale carefully packs up every single get-well card, along with Bucky’s clothes and medications. Beary Egan gets carefully tucked into the top of the duffel. 

Over the past few days, Nurse Clara has kindly worked with them, teaching Gale how to help Bucky with daily tasks: things like changing clothes, safely getting in and out of the wheelchair, covering the cast with plastic to take a shower, and anything else that may be hindered by his lack of mobility. She patiently answers every question Gale has, and he has a lot. 

With the IV removed, Clara and Rosie stand by as Gale, all by himself, helps Bucky slowly get to his feet. With a few curse words, one panicked moment where Bucky nearly topples over, and a lot of strained encouragement – “we’re alright, we can do this, look at me, sweetheart” – Gale manages to help Bucky change into fresh clothes. The whole ordeal – while far more pleasant than the process of getting Bucky suited up on Starship and Orion – has Bucky swearing as he grips Gale’s hand or shoulder so hard his knuckles turn white, leaving accidental bruises on Gale’s pale skin. 

It’s a bit cold out, so the outfit of the day is black and gray plaid flannel pajama pants and a black t-shirt with an astronaut on the front. Above and below the astronaut are the words “Houston, I am the problem.”

A gift from Curt and Alex.

Finally, Gale helps Bucky shrug on a black zip-up hoodie and get settled into the wheelchair. Bucky forces a smile as he sits down, even leaning forward to kiss Gale on the cheek. “I love you,” he whispers.

They leave the hospital with a detailed rehabilitation, check-in, and physical and occupational therapy schedule. They also leave with a hefty hospital bill that Harding won’t let Gale so much as see, stating that NASA will take care of it.

Bucky doesn’t speak at all on the way home, not seeming to notice when Gale tries to ask him things like “how are you feeling?” or “excited to see Pepper?” He just stares out the window and watches the dark clouds roam across the sky, his brain too tired to do anything else. Gale has found himself wondering, in the last week, if there’s a reason why the brain fog is better on some days and worse on others. Other than night vs. day, he can’t find a rhyme or reason as to why Bucky gets confused sometimes, why he seems to fade away here and there. The doctors assure him it’s normal with the injury he had. Just like the shaking hands and fine motor control, it’ll take time. Gale hopes they’re right, but he still feels a painful worry twisting in his chest when he notices it. 

When they pull into their driveway, the word “home” pops out of Bucky’s mouth, and Gale reaches over to squeeze his hand.

It’s only when they pull to a complete stop, really taking in the sight of their house, that they notice the Christmas lights newly strung up along the roof, a strand of brightly colored bulbs joined by sparkling white icicle lights. Gale certainly didn’t have time to hang them, and it’s the middle of the day, but they’re lit up anyways, welcoming Bucky back with some holiday cheer. In the back seat, Rosie says “would you look at that,” and he reaches forward to rest a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky focuses on those lights for a moment, and Gale watches the way they seem to ground him, waking up his brain a bit more as the blues and reds and greens reflect in his eyes. He squeezes Gale’s hand back. 

When his offer to help is declined, Rosie hauls the wheelchair out of the car, leaves it in the driveway, and heads inside to give the newlyweds some space. As Gale helps Bucky to step out of the car and sit down in the chair, though, he sees that not everyone got the message. He catches a glimpse of curly red hair on the porch of the house across from them, and he can’t help but smile. “Incoming,” he whispers to Bucky.

Bucky looks up as he settles into the chair, blinking away the fatigue, and his face brightens when he sees Maggie. Jane rushes out the door after her, grabbing her shoulder. “It’s alright,” Bucky says quietly, and Gale relays this information, shouting across the road.

Maggie immediately breaks away from her mom’s hold, barrels down the steps, checks both ways before crossing their quiet street, and she stops just short of colliding with Gale. Always so expressive around them, the little girl suddenly turns shy. Unsure what to do, she half hides behind Gale as she takes in the sight of Bucky in a wheelchair for the first time, his cast visible at the bottom of the pant leg.

Bucky’s smile doesn’t leave his face, though, and he tilts his head to peer around Gale’s legs until he’s looking Maggie in the eye. “There’s my favorite little astronaut.”

With a gentle hand on her shoulder, Gale nudges her forward. “Go on,” he insists. With a hesitant little stutter step, she moves out from behind him, looking up at him as she does so. 

“I told you he’d come home,” she says. Matter of fact. Like there was never a single doubt that John would survive.

Gale wishes he could have been that certain. He envies the way children view things like life and death, through a lens of naivete where the people they care for are invincible. He’s grateful, though, that Maggie was spared the worst. That she never knew the full story. 

She doesn’t notice the way he bites his lower lip to choke back a sharp, startled inhale, but Bucky does. He glances at Gale, eyebrow raised with a myriad of questions that he can’t ask, but then he looks back to Maggie. He grabs her small hand in his even though his fingers shake, and she grips back so he doesn’t have to focus on holding on.

“Sounds like you were very brave while I was gone,” he says to her. 

Maggie nods. She has this determined set to her eyes, a seriousness all over her face as she stands in front of him. Yet her voice is small and innocent, and Bucky hopes she’ll always stay this strong and kind. “I knew you wouldn’t leave us forever,” she tells him.

It’s Bucky’s turn to bite back tears, because, even though he knows, on some level, that it wasn’t really up to him, she’s right. He hides the thickness of his voice and the tightness of his throat with a cough that’s been tickling at his chest anyway. He directs it into his arm away from the little girl, then rubs a hand over his face. After he blinks a few times, willing away the wave of emotion that he’s sure will only get higher and higher throughout the day, he looks at Maggie again. 

“Learn to ride that bike yet?”

Maggie shakes her head. “I waited for you.” 

Gale remembers her words clearly, ringing in his ears. That awful day feels like years ago and like yesterday at the same time. The day he felt like his soul might disintegrate into the stars if he had to take one more breath without knowing if Bucky would survive. “He’ll come home. He has to. He promised he’d teach me how to ride a bike.”

“Might have to wait a bit longer. Until I get this thing off my leg.” Bucky pulls up his pant leg to better show the cast extending from knee to foot.

Maggie stares at it for a moment, unsure what to make of it, before she crouches down and runs a finger over the rough texture with a frown. She inspects the names written all over it – Curt and Rosie and Alex and Gale and more she doesn’t recognize. “Can I sign it?” 

Bucky tells her of course she can, and Gale digs around in the duffle until he finds a few colorful sharpies to offer. Maggie chooses the purple one. 

“Where’s a good spot?” Bucky asks her, leaning over to analyze the cast with her even though it hurts every single part of his body to do so. Maggie squints her eyes, analyzing her options, before she points to a spot above his ankle, right under Gale’s name. She looks at both of them for approval before uncapping the marker. 

She signs her name in big, slightly wobbly letters: MAGGIE with a carefully drawn heart at the end. 

“Perfect,” Bucky says, grinning at her as Gale takes the marker back. Then he adds, “by the way, that drawing of us? Museum quality.” He’s referring to the one that Jane brought to the hospital, of Maggie and Bucky on the moon together. Maggie rolls her eyes at his dramatics but looks pleased anyway. “You sure you wanna be an astronaut, not an artist?

The girl nods vigorously, her curly red hair bobbing against her shoulders. “I wanna be just like you,” she tells them, once again like she doesn’t have a single doubt in her mind. “I’m gonna go to space someday.”

Gale feels emotionally drained at this point, unsure how much more he can take even though everything about today is edged with hope and homecoming. He swallows thickly and puts a hand on Maggie’s shoulder as he glances back towards her house, where Jane is sitting on the porch. She waves to him. He looks back down at the girl, a little in awe at how he and Bucky have somehow managed to mean so much to her. How she has managed to mean so much to them.

“Well,” Bucky says. “If you’re so sure about that, I have something for you.” Gale takes his cue and rifles through the contents of the duffle bag until he finds Bucky’s PPK. Safely tucked into the bottom of it is a small, clear plastic envelope, which he lays in the palm of Bucky’s hand, face up so Maggie can see. 

Inside the plastic is a thick, heavy coin about two inches wide, engraved with braided edges and the Artemis III logo in the center, designed by the crew members themselves. A big red “A” with the middle line swooping out to the left, fading from red to blue as it loops around the moon and ends with the Orion capsule docked to Starship in front. Overlapping the right side leg of the A are the roman numerals III in dark gray. Printed around the edges are the names of the astronauts: Egan, Biddick, Rosenthal, Jefferson. 

“Do you know what this is?” Bucky asks Maggie. She shakes her head. “It’s a challenge coin,” he tells her, going on to explain that a challenge coin is carried by members of a special group, signifying their membership. Every big NASA mission gets its own challenge coin, and all of the crew members carry a few of them. 

Bucky kept one for himself and traded one with one of the Navy guys on the USS Portland, so this is the last one he took on board Orion. “This coin is very special,” he tells Maggie, urging her to take it. So carefully, she plucks it from his palm, holding it up close to her face so she can read the names. “I carried it with me on the moon.”

Maggie’s eyes go wide, shooting back to Bucky, who grins at her. He presses his palm to hers, the coin in between.  “Now it’s yours. Something that’s touched the stars. See? You’re on your way to being an astronaut.”

Maggie’s smile broadens, and, as she clutches the coin in her hand, she throws her arms around Bucky’s neck. It’s awkward over the chair as she tries to avoid jostling his leg, but she isn’t deterred, squealing an elated “thank you” as she holds on. Bucky wraps one arm around her in return.

When Maggie pulls back, Gale kneels down beside her, even though the pavement is still wet from the morning rain, and he wraps an arm around her. “Why don’t you flip it over?”

Maggie does so, and she runs a finger over the back of the coin, feeling the texture of the raised image. An astronaut on the moon, the Earthrise and the stars in the sky behind him. “Is that you?” She asks Bucky. 

He laughs. “Could be.” 

Gale points to the lettering along the bottom of the backside. “See that?”

“What does it say?” Maggie asks, rubbing her thumb over the italicized words. 

Bucky recites them to her, but his eyes are locked on Gale the entire time. He watches Gale silently mouth the phrase along with him, not only the mission motto, but a promise to one another. “Ad lunam. Ad astra. To the moon. To the stars.”

—

With Maggie safely back across the street, Gale wheels Bucky up the walk to the front door. As he turns the knob and pushes it open, Rosie appears on the other side, holding it for them. 

“Welcome home, darlin’,” Gale says as they enter the foyer.

Bucky smiles tiredly as he takes a deep breath that rattles his chest and nearly causes him to cough again, but it’s worth it to smell the scent of home. He tilts his head. “Cookies?”

Gale chuckles, but doesn’t answer, wheeling Bucky past the foyer and into the living room. The moment they’re within view, he’s met by a chorus of “Welcome home!” and the sight of his closest friends sitting around the slightly rearranged living room. 

“Astrofag!” Curt calls out from his seat in the middle of the couch. On one side of him is Marge, Benny on the other, while Alex sits in one of the armchairs. Rosie trails in behind Gale. A banner with hand-lettered words is strung across the back wall: “We’re glad you’re alive!” More space balloons float around it, and in the time that Gale and Bucky were outside, Rosie has already displayed all of the get well cards from the hospital on the side tables and tv stand.

“Did you miss me?” Bucky grins, holding his hands out to the side like a risen savior as Gale eases him to a stop in front of the coffee table, close to the empty armchair.

“Had enough of you for a lifetime,” Benny jokes, calling back to what Bucky said to him in the hospital nearly two weeks ago. He gets to his feet, though, and walks over to Bucky, leaning down to give him a side hug.

“I almost died, you have to be nice to me,” Bucky claims as he returns the hug.

“And how long does that last?”

“Until Gale quits gettin’ all nervous every time I cough or somethin’.” Every time he coughs. Every time he zones out. Every time he feels nauseous or complains about his head hurting. Every time his fingers shake and he can’t hold his own fork or move his own wheelchair.

Everyone looks at Gale, who, in the presence of his best friends, doesn’t even try to hide his blush. He secures the brake on Bucky’s wheelchair before sitting in the armchair beside him, and Benny returns to his seat while Rosie sits on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

Bucky nods to a tray of cookies in the middle of the table. “Who made those?”

“Marge,” Alex says.

Bucky just about groans. “Thank god. They’ll be good then.”

“Hey,” Gale shoots back, offended, as Marge laughs.

Bucky waves him off. “I know you didn’t make ‘em, doll. Got my head on straight enough to know you’ve been with me all day.”

Marge gets to her feet to grab a cookie and hand one to him across the table. “I made them how you like them.”

Milk and semi-sweet chocolate chips, but not too much of either so that there’s parts of the cookie with no chocolate at all. It’s called balance, he told her once during a late night trauma-dumping/baking session.

Bucky takes the cookie, biting into it as he closes his eyes. Silently, he’s so fucking grateful that he hasn’t felt any nausea today. “Real food,” he mutters.

Gale scoffs, even though this ‘perfect cookie’ was his own recipe to begin with. “Not sure a cookie counts as real food.”

Bucky flips him off, his middle finger still not quite able to get all the way up without the others, and he takes another bite. It’s been too damn long since he had some quality snacks. It’s better than wheat chex, that’s for sure. And he’d take the wheat chex any day over the bland desserts they tried to give him in the hospital.

The guys – and Marge – stay for a bit, talking and taking comfort in being all together again, all of them alive, home, on the road to healthy. When Bucky starts to drift, going quiet as it becomes more and more difficult to focus on the conversation, everyone makes their excuses to head out, leaving the Buckies alone to rest. 

Benny returns ten minutes later with an overenthusiastic husky straining at her leash – the antithesis of rest – and he passes her off to Gale through the front door before leaving them again. The dog knows immediately, her paws tippy-tapping on the hardwood as her tail wags so hard Gale doesn’t know how it doesn’t hurt. “You’re gonna have to stay calm, baby girl,” he tells her.

“Come on, Buck,” Bucky calls from the living room. “I’ll be fine.”

When Gale finally walks Pepper into the living room, Bucky has managed to get himself turned around to face them. Gale keeps her on a tight leash as they walk forward, holding her back from flat out charging at Bucky. Her entire body is wiggling as she tries to pull away. “Easy, babe,” Gale tells her.

When they finally reach Bucky, he loosens the leash, and Pepper immediately presses her nose to Bucky’s knees, his thighs, his cast, his hands, any part of him she can as she wags her tail and pants. She looks like she’s smiling, completely overwhelmed with the excitement of her other person finally being back where he’s supposed to be. Bucky laughs and scratches behind her ears and under her chin, letting her lick and sniff and press her head against him. He grimaces when she nearly jumps on the chair, bumping his bad leg, before Gale catches her and tells her firmly to stay down. Bucky hardly cares, though, his fingers clutching weakly at her soft fur, unwilling to let go.

“Hey, Pep,” he says, his voice strained with emotion. He tilts his head as he strokes her ears, his eyes fluttering closed so that Gale can see stubborn tears clinging to his eyelashes. Bucky takes a deep, rattling breath, and he stares at the dog as she sits loyally beside his chair, watching him with the same love in her eyes. She rests her head on the armrest and licks his hand gently.

Bucky gives her a wobbly smile. “Thought I’d never see you again.” 

Gale sets a comforting hand on his shoulder, and time seems to freeze for just a moment. One perfect moment. A snapshot of their little family.

That afternoon, Pepper wolfs down all of her food, totally unprompted, for the first time in days. 

—

For the first time since the morning of November 19, Gale sleeps in their bed.

He’s hardly stepped foot in this room except for this morning, when he took a deep breath, told himself it was time to get his shit together, and set about changing the sheets, getting everything ready for John to come home. Sharing this bed feels so familiar, and yet so different. He finds himself holding his breath, like if he disturbs the moment, breathes too loudly, blinks too hard, then it’ll simply evaporate, and he’ll be stuck in the same Purgatory that he was nearly a month ago. He tries to ground himself in Bucky’s warmth, the familiar shape of his body, his scent – different than usual due to being in the hospital, but somehow still him. Smoky and sweet. 

It’s December. Even in Nassau Bay, Texas, the current night time temperature is near 40 degrees, and yet Bucky insists on sleeping shirtless while Gale tucks himself into an old NASA sweatshirt. At first, Gale worried about Bucky getting too cold, what with the pneumonia and the head cold and the TBI. But Bucky wouldn't hear it. “You’re gonna make me overheat,” he said. 

Now, Gale doesn’t mind so much that he can feel Bucky’s skin beneath his hands. Warm, not cold. Alive, not dying.

They don’t sleep at first. They lay awake in the dark, Gale curled up with his head on Bucky’s chest. His cheek and ear nestle against Bucky’s bare skin, and he listens to the beating of his heart. Their hands cling to one another, and Bucky plays mindlessly with Gale’s fingers. That same old habit that he’s had since they were in college.

Gale wonders when such little things will stop making his chest constrict in anxiety and relief.

“I know you broke the mirror,” Bucky says eventually, his voice cutting through the silence.

“Mmm.” Gale doesn’t deny it. 

“I ain’t dumb. It doesn’t even have the same frame.”

“Benny replaced it this morning,” Gale says passively, even though he’s staring dead ahead in the darkness, ublinking. 

“You punch it or what?” Bucky knows his husband. He knows how stoic everyone thinks he is, how calm and collected Major Buck Cleven tries to be. But he also knows that Buck – Gale – can snap.

“Mmm. The morning I found out.”

“Straight to the dramatics.”

“Benny woke me up,” Gale drawls, his voice steady, measured, even though Bucky doesn’t miss the nervous undertone in the way it shifts. “I thought you’d be dead by the time I got to JSC.” He says this matter-of-factly. He doesn’t tell Bucky that he imagined his entire funeral, word for word, breath for breath. “It was touch and go for a while there.”

“I was the one dying.”

“You were passed out those first few days.”

They’re quiet for a while. Slowly, slowly they’ll learn what the other went through. Someday, they’ll fall apart late one night or early one morning, and it’ll all spill out in a tidal wave that threatens to crush them under the weight of this aftermath. They’ll hold each other tight and try to hold back the sobs and remind each other to keep breathing, remind each other that they’re still breathing. 

But it’s not time. Not yet. It hurts too much, and they don’t have the words. Right now, they’re not sure that they’ll ever have the words. Right now, all they can do is hold on tight.

There was never anything that could break them, Marge said at their wedding. They may have come damn close, but here they are, unbroken.

So they sit in silence. Gale counts Bucky’s heartbeats. One. Two. Three. Four. Five…

When he hits thirty-two, Bucky says, out of nowhere, “It was like I could hear you.” As if he’s been thinking over something troubling for some time now. 

Gale tenses. “Mmm?”

“W-When I was, um…” Bucky takes a deep breath. He coughs once, weakly, and it jostles Gale. But he rests his free hand on the back of Gale’s head, holding him there, not wanting to lose that reassuring weight. “I guess I was unconscious. Those first days after I… after…”

Why is it that, in the dark, it feels easier to talk about the hard things, and yet it’s harder to find the right words?

“You were in a coma,” Gale says. “Completely non reactive.” That’s what Dr. Huston told him. What Curt told him. 

“I know,” Bucky agrees. He makes a breathy, frustrated sort of sound, and Gale can imagine him squeezing his eyes shut, clenching his jaw as he tries to figure out how to say what he needs to say. Gale waits patiently.

“Everything hurt so bad,” Bucky finally explains. “I could feel it. I could hear Curt sometimes, too. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t fuckin’ think. I-I was just… I couldn’t… Fuck.” It was like he was floating, not part of the world, not part of his body, but in so much goddamn pain he wanted to scream. He doesn’t know how to tell his husband that, though. 

Instead, he pushes forward to what he needs to tell Gale now. “But it was like you were in my head. I heard your voice. It made me… it made me keep breathing, y’know?”

Gale goes completely still, eyes wide, unblinking, not breathing. Bucky’s fingers try to grip his hair, but can’t seem to close around the strands. Gale grips Bucky’s hand. He bites hard at his lower lip.

Bucky’s voice gets thick and tight, and Gale can hear his chest rattling as he breathes, threatening another coughing fit. “I-I knew I had to… I had to…” Another painful pause. “I had to get back to you.”

Gale holds back the wet little gasp that wants to tear through his gritted teeth. A tear drips off of his nose and onto Bucky’s bare chest, and he wonders if Bucky feels it. He tucks his face against the warm skin, needing to be as close as possible as he curls around Bucky’s body in a way that makes it unclear if he’s trying to hide against it or protect it from the world, make sure it can’t break any more than it already has. 

“I couldn’t leave you,” Bucky chokes out. Gale can’t see his face, but his husband’s voice alone is enough to cave his chest in with a crippling kind of sorrow. “I couldn’t do th-that to you. I had to… I needed…”

Gale can hear the tears building up in Bucky’s voice now, and he wants to make them go away. Yet he knows they both need this. They both need to feel this pain, let it drown them, just for a little bit, as they grip so tightly to each other that their fingerprints become embedded into each others’ souls. They need to face it, or they’ll never be able to move forward. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers.

“I-I think I…” Bucky takes a careful, controlled breath. He thinks about the stars he could see through Starship’s window, flickering in the darkness. He thinks about the pain burning like fire through his body and his brain. He thinks about wanting to die, near begging a god he didn’t believe in to carry him away from that damned place because death must be better than whatever he was going through. 

But in the darkness, a star shines on. A heart beats. A mind dreams. The Earth turns. And even when he couldn’t wake up, when he was consumed in agony from the inside out, Bucky thought of his husband. He heard his voice, saw his face, wanted nothing more than to hold him tight and hang on forever. And even when he wanted to give up, he fought to stay.

Bucky’s breath shudders, and he feels tears dripping down his cheeks. He closes his eyes. “You’re what kept me alive, Gale.” 

You’re the reason I had to stay alive. The reason I had to come home. 

You are my home. 

Gale is quiet for a long time, listening to Bucky’s heartbeat. He presses his lips against Bucky’s chest. “Don’t tell Curt that,” he whispers.

Bucky laughs wetly. He can feel Gale’s tears against his chest, and he strokes his husband’s hair. “I know,” he says, “But. It was you, angel. It was always you.”

—

It’s 1am when Bucky asks Gale if he’s still awake.

Gale, still tucked against Bucky’s side, nods sleepily. His eyes drift open, taking their sweet time adjusting to the darkness of the room. He shifts just slightly, making Pepper huff in annoyance where she lay curled up right at his feet.

He presses his lips to Bucky’s shoulder. “You okay?”

He waits so long for an answer that he wonders if Bucky actually said anything at all. But eventually it comes: “Hurts.”

“What does?”

A pause. “Everything?”

Gale nods again in understanding. Leg, head, chest, ribs. In that order. Possibly his back as well.

“I’ll get you some pain killers,” Gale says. He reluctantly pushes himself away from Bucky and crawls out of bed, his foot getting caught on the blanket as he goes. His mind flashes back to the way he scrambled out of bed on November 19th, sheets tangled around his feet as the room tilted, Benny approaching him like a wild animal.

His heart beats faster, faster, faster.

“Thanks, hon.”

Gale takes a breath. He walks to the kitchen, flicks on the lights, reaches for the little orange bottle of prescription pills sitting on the windowsill. He stares at the tiny print, remembering the doctor’s instructions. One pill every 6 hours as needed. He does some mental math, concludes that it’s been well over 6 hours since the last dose, dumps a tablet into his hand, and fills a glass with water,

When he returns to their bedroom, he finds Bucky sitting up with a pillow behind his back, looking at a too-bright phone screen – Gale’s too-bright phone screen. Gale turns on the lamp on Bucky’s bedside table. “What’re you looking at?”

Bucky sets the phone on his thigh so he can take the pill and glass of water, swallowing both down. Gale glances down at the phone, and he finds that the saved email from their wedding photographer is pulled up, the cover photo of the digital album displayed on the screen.

Bucky sets the glass down on the table, the bottom of it rattling as his hand shakes. He looks up at Gale, who is still hovering over him. “Thought we could look at them. Together.”

Gale can’t quite bring himself to smile, his brow scrunching into something pained but full of love. “Yeah,” he whispers. He walks back around to the other side of the bed, stopping to scratch Pepper on the head, and he sits back against the headboard. Tucking his legs beneath the covers, he presses himself against Bucky’s side.

Bucky offers him the phone, too tired to focus on making his fingers work right, and Gale opens the album once again.

It’s strange, really. These are the exact same photos that Gale looked at before. Some of them – especially those of John in the groom’s suite – he’s stared at and stared at, unable to look away and unable to move forward. These photos carved a hole into his chest even as he fell in love with every image, at one time thinking that if he never got to see his husband again, at least he would be left with such perfect, life-filled photographs. 

They made him sob and they made him panic. They made him chuck his phone away because they filled him with too much everything and he was overloaded with the weight of it. They made him grieve.

But here they are. The same exact pictures, and they look completely different somehow. When the gallery opens, Bucky sinks down so his head rests on Gale’s shoulder, and Gale wraps his arm around him. He balances the phone on Bucky’s chest and turns to press his nose into his hair. 

Bucky’s lips curve into the most genuine little smile the moment he sets eyes on the photographs of Gale in the bridal suite, and it hits Gale in the weirdest of ways that, even though he’s seen these specific pictures a handful of times now, Bucky hasn’t. This is the first Bucky has seen of Gale’s pre-ceremony experience. “You’re…” Bucky huffs out a disbelieving breath. “God, Gale, look at you.”

While Gale holds the phone, Bucky uses a finger to swipe from photo to photo, pointing something out here and there – how he didn’t realize Gale was so nervous, too, or how lovely Marge looks or how much he loved that white suit – or sometimes just staring with his hand poised over the screen like he’s eager to get to the next one but reluctant to move away from the one he’s on. He stops for a long time on a candid of Gale standing in front of the mirror, looking down with a nervous smile on his face as he adjusts his cufflinks. The light coming through the windows hits just right, making his suit seem brighter and his boutonniere pop. It highlights the freckles on his cheeks that Bucky sometimes likes to kiss or poke at. 

Gale thinks he hears Bucky whisper the word “wow.”

“Sorry I ain’t that pretty all the time,” Gale jokes self-deprecatingly.

Bucky turns his head, glances up at him. “You get more and more beautiful every day, love.” He reaches a hand up to grab Gale’s chin, satisfied at the way it makes him blush. Gale feels the metal of the wedding band rub against his jaw, and he motions for Bucky to keep going through the album. 

“Ah, look at that handsome man,” Bucky says when he gets to the pictures of the groom’s suite. “Whoever gets to marry him sure is lucky.”

Gale scoffs, hiding his face in Bucky’s hair. He squeezes Bucky’s hip with the hand wrapped around him and whispers, “I am.” 

“Holy shit I was nervous,” Bucky admits as they scroll through. Gale stops him every once in a while, wanting to look at certain photos for just a little longer even though he’s drilled them into his mind already. Bucky biting his lip anxiously as Rosie fixes his cufflinks, Bucky kneeling down to pet the dog, Bucky with his head thrown back in a full body laugh, looking beautiful, carefree, happy.

They reminisce over their first look, feeling like they’re there all over again, seeing each other for the first time, reaching out to touch, at a loss for words.

And then it’s on to uncharted territory, the photos that Gale never managed to get to. He takes a deep breath, and he decides right then and there that it’s okay. After everything, right now, they get to look at their wedding photos together. Just like any love-struck young couple.

One small step on the road to normal. 

“Someday I’ll thank her for holdin’ you up while I was gone,” Bucky says when they get to a picture of Marge walking them down the aisle. Gale can only nod, because nothing he could ever do could ever repay her for, well, everything.

“Were you crying?” Gale asks as he zooms in on a picture of them at the altar, holding tight to each other’s hands. Bucky is biting gently at his lower lip as he looks at Gale, and his eyes are glistening in the light. 

“I don’t know,” Bucky laughs now. “I was so focused on gettin’ my vows right. I don’t even know.”

“Wait,” Gale smirks and leans his head down, trying to get a good look at Bucky’s face. “Are you crying now?”

Bucky shakes his head, but he also scrubs at his eyes with his hand. He presses himself even closer to Gale, if that’s possible. “I have a head injury,” he says meekly.

“Yeah, sure,” Gale drawls, kissing the top of his head.

There’s a few pictures of the ring exchange, and Gale remembers how badly Bucky’s hand was shaking that day. The irony of it claws at his throat, but neither of them say a word. He remembers how fast his own heart was racing. He remembers the feeling of that cool silver band sliding over his finger. He remembers the look in Bucky’s eyes.

They spend a long time looking at the series of photos from during and after their kiss, remembering how the entire world disappeared in that moment, just them, their own universe, the greatest love story ever told. Naturally, they’ve barely kissed since Bucky returned. 

“Tomorrow I’m gonna kiss you like that,” Bucky promises.

“Why tomorrow?”

“Cause the meds are kickin’ in and I’m too comfy to move.”

That would make Gale smile, but he finds he already is. He’s barely stopped this whole time, even when the pictures bring tears to his eyes and shove a lump into his throat. He holds Bucky tighter.

After the ceremony photos – Bucky jokingly declares that the best one is the one of Meatball and Pepper crashing their kiss – there’s plenty of staged photos of the wedding party and even more of John and Gale. And then there’s the reception.

Speeches. Curt and Marge standing on a chair. The newlyweds holding hands at their table, whispering into each others’ ears, kissing sweetly like no one was watching even though everyone was watching. People dancing and laughing. Gale dancing with Bucky, with Marge, with Chick. John having a dance off with Curt and Alex. Cutting the cake – Bucky smashing a piece into Gale’s mouth. Kissing through the icing, staining their lips blue. John and Gale on the mezzanine, John kissing him on the cheek. Gale tossing the bouquet over his shoulder. All of their Air Force friends, Benny included, scrambling over each other to catch it like it was a football and they were trying to win the Superbowl. Meatball grabbing it in the chaos and running full speed through the reception hall.

Gale laughs as he sees those photos for the first time. “I didn’t even know that happened.” When he doesn’t get a response, he looks down at Bucky. “You still with me darlin’?” 

“Mhm,” comes the reply. And Gale realizes that Bucky is struggling to keep his eyes open. But he blinks and glances up at Gale. “That was the best day of my life, you know.”

Gale’s lips part, but he doesn’t have anything to say. He wants it to have been the best day of his life, too. But after everything… 

Gale doesn’t believe in miracles. But as far as he can tell, the day Bucky splashed down in the Pacific was as close to one as he’ll ever get. So after everything, is it strange that he thinks the best day of his life isn’t the day that marked the rest of his forever, but the day that kept that forever intact? The day John came home to him. 

He can’t bear to say all that, though. So he nods as he turns the phone off, and he wraps his arms more fully around his husband, feeling the warmth of his bare skin and the reassuring weight of his upper body. He finds himself feeling comfortable, safe, secure, not afraid. He almost feels like he could just nod off right here. “It was a damn good day,” he agrees. 

Within moments, Bucky is drifting off in his arms, relaxing into his embrace. Carefully, slowly, Gale eases them both down, so they’re laying more comfortably on the mattress, but he doesn’t let go. And for the first time since early October, together, in their own bed in their own home, they sleep.

—

December 12 Nassau Bay, TX

It’s raining.

For real this time. At least, John really hopes it’s real.

He sits on the couch and stares out the window, listens carefully. The house is filled with that eerie but comforting light of an afternoon rain storm, gray and blue and green with a daylight sort of darkness that settles over everything with hardly a shadow. 

Drops of water drip down the windowpane, and Bucky watches them. He presses his finger to the glass and traces their path as they roll down. He listens to the steady beating of raindrops on their roof. He pretends he can smell the fresh earthy scent of a storm mixing with the salty air of their home on the bay. He pretends he can feel the cool water sliding over his bare skin, plastering his hair to his forehead. 

The rain has been falling for over half an hour now, and his heart reaches out to it. He has to wonder if it’s real, or if it’s only a dream. He often wonders that – was all of it a dream? Is it all a dream? Will he wake up one day, still on Starship, and find out his trip home, his successful failure, wasn’t real? Maybe the accident never happened. Or maybe it did and he never actually woke up.

Or will he wake up one day in this very house, learn that he never went to the moon at all? Will he be shipped off to quarantine to do it all again?

But his leg throbs with his heartbeat, and sometimes his head still spins. Every cough reminds him he’s alive. He holds onto Beary Egan as he sits on the couch, Pepper at his side, and while many things are blurry or missing, there’s so much that he can recall in such detail. If he closes his eyes, he can see the surface of the moon stretched out before him. Nowhere and everywhere. But he was there.

“John?”

Bucky’s brain takes far too long to understand that someone is saying his name. When he finally tunes in, for a second he thinks it must be Curt or Rosie. Checking on him, trying to get him to eat something, telling him it’s time to do this or that thing that is going to cause him pain but is necessary anyways. 

But the voice says his name again, followed by a gentle “darling?” and a smile slips over Bucky’s face. 

He turns his head to see his husband, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. His hair is unstyled, soft and messy. He’s wearing jeans and a black sweater. Bucky is once again wearing his own Yankees sweatshirt – if for no other reason than to make it smell like him again. For now, it smells like Gale, and it makes him feel safe. 

“You okay?” Gale asks. He raises an eyebrow in concern. He looks at Bucky like that a lot now – concerned.

The truth is, everything hurts. Everything feels icky. Everything about Bucky’s body feels wrong and out of control. But he nods. Because right now, he is actually okay. 

He woke up in his husband’s arms, his dog at his feet. Gale made him pancakes, and when he couldn’t quite stomach those, he cut up a bunch of fruit and let Bucky drink as much orange juice as he wanted. Gale told JSC he wouldn’t be in today, and they spent their morning watching a movie on the couch while Bucky scrolled through their wedding photos again. Lazy and domestic, just trying to heal.

Bucky reaches an arm out towards Gale, making a grabbing motion with his hand. Gale’s face softens and he walks across the room, settling on the couch beside Bucky. He wraps his husband in his arms, and together, they stare out the window at the water falling down onto the Earth.

Gale closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, holding Bucky tight. He presses his nose against the dark curls at the back of Bucky’s head, where that shaved patch is finally growing back. He tries to remind himself that John is here, in his arms, safe, not going anywhere. He tries to block out the rhythm of the rain, wills it to stop.

All he can think about is that night, a storm pouring buckets over their town, when Benny woke him in the darkness. 

One single moment can change the way you see even the most fundamental parts of the world. Something that once was beautiful, now bears nothing but pain. Fear and grief. That’s the song sung by the rain.

Gale listens to its melody, wondering if it’ll ever change its tune.

“You know,” Bucky says. He presses his whole hand against the cool window glass. His eyes flick momentarily to Gale’s, then back to the view of their backyard. “The rain is one of the things I missed the most.”

Gale blinks. “Mmm?”

Bucky nods. “The moon is so… empty,” he says, frowning. “I mean, it’s amazing. It’s beautiful. I wish I could go back. But it’s quiet. Unchanging. Dry. I missed water.”

Bucky seems to drift away again after that. One moment, he looks focused, speaking purposefully. The next, his eyes go a little hazy and the expression just drops from his face. He leans his head against Gale’s shoulder, and he stares out the window. Gale half expects him to fall asleep, but just as he’s about to ask Bucky if he’s still with him, Bucky shifts, tilting his head in thought.

“I remember wanting to feel the rain. I’d pretend I could feel it running over me, soaking my hair. I pretended I could taste it on my tongue. Like when we were kids, y’know? Playin’ in the puddles.”

Gale stares thoughtfully out the window, trying to see it in the same way. His heart beats a little too fast, though, when he can’t shove away the memory of that morning. 

He tries to smile weakly, pressing his lips to the back of Bucky’s head to hide the way he wants to cry at the memory mixed with the visual of John here, in his arms where he belongs. “Come on,” he says.

Bucky looks at him questioningly, but he doesn’t have a chance to resist because Gale is already standing up, crossing the room, retrieving the wheelchair. And then he’s lifting Bucky in his arms and settling him into it.

Bucky shifts in the chair, grimacing as he tries to get his leg positioned right. “What are you doing?” 

Gale puts a finger up and walks away again, leaving Bucky alone in the middle of the living room in a chair that he’s hardly any good at maneuvering on his own. But he returns moments later with the plastic cover for Bucky’s cast.

“We’re gonna go outside.”

Bucky blinks at him, then glances out the window again. “In the rain?”

“Mmm.” Gale kneels in front of Bucky, and Bucky watches as Gale gently lifts his bad leg, slips the cover up over the cast and secures the top of it at his knee. Then he helps Bucky get his leg in a comfortable position again. “Good?”

Bucky nods. Gale pats his good leg gently before getting back to his feet and wandering over to the coat closet. He hands Bucky one of his warmer raincoats so he can pull it on over his sweatshirt. “What?” Bucky asks when he notices Gale watching him do it. “I can get my own jacket on, Buck.”

What he doesn’t realize is that every time he does some menial task on his own, Gale’s heart is working to mend itself back together. Because Bucky doesn’t know the conversations Gale had to have with Dr. Huston and Smokey. He doesn’t know how terrified Gale was that Bucky would never be able to do these things again.

But outwardly, Gale just rolls his eyes, because Bucky doesn’t need to know all that. Not right now. He pulls on his own coat, ruffles Bucky’s curls as he steps behind him, and pushes him towards the front door. Pepper, finally convinced that they’re doing something worthwhile on this tired, rainy day, gets up from the couch to follow behind them.

The last time Gale stood in the rain, he was dressed in nothing but his work clothes. He stood frozen, drenched to the bone, unable to feel anything at all. Sandra had to save him. His mind flashes to that moment as he walks out the door, pushing Bucky out in front of him. He nearly freezes when he feels the cold raindrops hitting his face. He doesn’t bother to put his hood up.

But he notices something: he can feel it now.

As Gale wheels him out to the driveway, Bucky holds out his hands and looks up, closing his eyes as he feels the fat, heavy drops splashing onto his skin, soaking into his hair. Even on the Gulf, the rain is freezing in December, but it makes Bucky feel more alive than he has since he woke up in Starship half dead. 

Gale steps out from behind him and takes his hand. “So you didn’t have this on the moon?”

Bucky laughs. “If we did we’d have colonized it by now!”

Pepper runs in circles around them, darting from one side of the driveway to the other with her face to the sky, her thick fur slowly getting matted down. They both laugh as she gets down and rolls in the grass, staining parts of herself green. Gale knows he’ll have a hell of a time giving her a bath, but it doesn’t matter. 

He watches Bucky take in the vibrant world around them. The fresh smell of the rain and the salt of the bay. The bright colors of the Earth, the sound of the raindrops pounding the ground. Their house, their street, their dog, the trees and the grass and the water streaming down the road. All of it so alive. 

When Bucky’s eyes finally reach Gale again, he stops. He raises an eyebrow, a grin brightening his face even as his hair is soaked to his head and his flannel pajama pants have no hope of ever being dry again. “What?” He asks. 

And Gale realizes he’s been staring. He knows he must look like a wet dog, but Bucky looks at him like he’s the most beautiful thing in the world. 

“I missed you,” Gale says. Like it isn’t obvious. Like those words can possibly encapsulate what he means.

Bucky reaches out his other hand and looks at Gale expectantly. “Help me up.” 

Gale looks skeptical, but he hauls Bucky to his feet – or, foot. He keeps one arm around Bucky’s waist, keeping him steady, and Bucky grabs onto his shoulder for balance. They’re getting better at it. 

“Now what?” Gale laughs. 

Bucky doesn’t say a word. Just ducks his head down and presses his lips to Gale’s. Gale freezes in surprise, but it’s not even a second before he closes his eyes and has to remind himself that he needs to be the strong one, keep himself steady, even as he melts. They grip onto one another, holding on for dear life, and Bucky kisses his husband like it’s their wedding day. 

Gale sighs into it, and he feels Bucky smile. They’re both soaked to the bone, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters other than the two of them together, right here and now. 

Because, finally, they’re home. 

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 13/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

There was no snow on the ground, yet, but Evan’s breath came frosting out in clouds of vapor as he stood in the middle of a field on his coven’s land, hands braced on his knees as he heaved in gulps of air. The remains of a few bales of hay smoldered merrily a few dozen yards away from him, black smoke billowing up into the crystal blue sky. There were still about five bales scattered around him that were untouched, though.

Again, Evan.

The calm, gentle voice echoed around him, accompanied by the surge of electric power that always signaled a familiar casting. The smoldering bales of all hay went up in crackles of white-hot flame, fresh clouds of smoke billowing up and swirling in miniature tornadoes around them. A few seconds later, the smoke scattered as though blown away by a fierce, sudden wind, and when the air had cleared, all of the bales were restored to pristine condition. And now even farther apart than they were before.

“Sally, come on,” he whined. He knew he was whining. He couldn’t help it. He’d been out here since school let out almost three hours ago, he was cold, he was hungry, he was starting to get a headache from so much casting…and he knew that his familiar absolutely was not going to let him go home until he’d performed the exercise exactly how she wanted him to. He turned to look at her anyway, pasting his best puppy-dog eyes—the expression that always worked on Maddie—across his face.

Sally was perched on top of part of an old stone fence, her tail twitching back and forth as she observed the field like a queen surveying her kingdom. Her mangled ear—a battle souvenir she’d earned back before Pennsylvania had ever even been a state—flicked towards him, and even from across the field, Evan could see the amusement on her face. Most of the other kids in the coven thought it was so cool to have such an old and powerful familiar, that it must be amazing to be taught and trained by someone who had so much experience. And sure, yes, it really was. He loved Sally, and was so grateful that she’d chosen to bond with him, especially after going so long without bonding with any other Buckley witch.

But sometimes, being taught and trained by someone with almost three centuries of experience really sucked. He couldn’t get away with anything!

Again, Evan, she said, picking her way over to another moss-covered fencepost and lazily starting to groom her rough, calico coat. You’re still not dispersing your magic properly. You should be able to hit at least three more targets with the same spell.

If it had been either of his parents saying something like that to him, a hot flush of anger and embarrassment would have swept through him. The black cloud of their disappointment (God, Evan can’t you do anything right? How can you mess up something that simple? I don’t know where your father and I went wrong! Don’t you dare embarrass us in front of the coven.) would have pressed down on him like a physical weight, driving all his self-control and concentration right out of his head.

Sally’s criticism never felt like that, though.

Mostly because Sally was never disappointed in him. She was firm, and no-nonsense, and never let him get away with being lazy or taking shortcuts…but he never doubted that she believed in him with all her heart and would never ask him to do something she wasn’t absolutely sure he could do. Her patience with him never ran out, and even in just three short years under her mentoring, his power and control had improved a lot.

The only other person who ever made him feel so loved and supported was Maddie.

So, despite being hungry, and cold, and tired, he pushed himself up straight and walked back to the spot that would give him the best line of sight to all of the haybales. He stretched his arms over his head and shook the tension from his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he started chanting.

This time, all but one of the bales burst into flame.

Excellent! Sally’s voice was filled with pride, and she vanished from the fencepost, reappearing seconds later at his feet. Her slightly ragged tail flicked back and forth as she once again smothered the flames and restored the haybales to pristine condition, this time all stacked together.

Evan looked down at her, hands on his hips. “Really? Again?” he sighed. Sally sat down primly and licked one of her paws.

Last exercise for today, she promised. This time I want you to do it without reaching through your coven bond.

Evan startled at that, looking down at his familiar in surprise. “Isn’t that dangerous?” he asked, like dispersing the strain of casting through a coven bond wasn’t literally one of the first lessons children learned when they started training with their magic. No matter how powerful you were, casting was difficult. It took a ton of energy and focus, and channeling magic—especially into more complex spells or multiple spells at once—could be exhausting. Drawing on your coven bond to alleviate some of the strain was an essential skill. While magic could be cast without the aid of a coven bond, it was like trying to lift something extremely heavy by yourself…the risk of injury was higher, and the longer you did it, the more dangerous it got.

I won’t let anything happen to you, little love, Sally replied calmly, and Evan scoffed.

“I know that,” he said, the idea of his familiar ever letting any harm come to him if she could prevent it so utterly ridiculous as to be a complete non-issue. He knew Sally would always protect him just as surely as he knew Maddie would. “I just—why practice that?” he asked, honestly curious. Sally never did anything without a purpose.

Strangely, Sally seemed to hesitate, looking out over the frosty field and wrapping her tail around her feet. I would see you prepared for any eventuality, she said at length. Even if it’s no longer a customary lesson, or something some might think a waste of time.

Evan knew his familiar well enough by now to know she was talking about his parents. She was always talking about his parents when she got that particular tone in her voice. Sally always played nice in front of other members of their coven or visiting guests, but in private she had never made her dislike for his parents a secret. She was polite—but every time she was in the same room as his mom and dad, the temperature seemed to drop at least ten degrees.

Truthfully, if Sally hadn’t been such an old and respected familiar, if she hadn’t held the status she did in their coven and in Pennsylvania witch society in general, he doubted his parents would have let her bond with him when she approached them about it. There had been no way for them to turn her down without it raising a lot of questions, though…and if there was one thing Phillip and Margaret Buckley hated, it was questions.

Still, Sally wasn’t wrong that a lot of her lessons and teaching methods were…old-fashioned. Maddie usually explained it as Sally just having lived most of her life as a coven familiar in times where conflicts—not even just with vampires, witch covens had once been a lot more volatile than they tended to be now—were a lot more common. Sometimes, though—sometimes Evan couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Sally was making her decisions about what and how to teach him based on something she was expecting. He had no real reason to think that way. It was just a feeling.

Perhaps sensing his distraction, Sally nudged his shin with her head, purring softly when he knelt down and scratched behind her mangled ear. You’ll wield tremendous power when you come fully into it, little love. You’re already stronger than many of my witches ever were. If your parents were wiser, they would be grooming you for coven leadership someday. Perhaps even a place on a high coven.

Evan snorted, even as a warm glow of happiness at her words curled through his chest. “We both know they’d never want me to be a coven leader. They hate my magic. They hate how I got it.”

Sally growled, low in her throat. They hate that it was given to you, and their part in how it was given at all. That they take their self-blame out on you is a shame they will have to reckon with someday. She batted at his cheek with one paw. You are blameless, Evan Buckley. You will be my finest witch. My last witch. Were it not for you, I would have left this coven when your parents…made the choices they did. You are precious to me and your sister, little love. And someday you will be precious to others. I would thank you to remember that.

He blinked hard, turning his face away and pretending to look over to the stack of haybales. Sally allowed him to, leaping up onto his shoulder as he stood slowly and draping herself over the back of his neck.

Now. Again, Evan, she ordered.

*

Evan took a few stumbling steps backward, almost tripping over the body of Jon—Greenway, Greenway, Greenway…he’d try to sell Evan out to vampires, damn it, he was directly responsible for this whole shitshow—Greenway’s familiar. The three vampires stepped fully out of the temp agency’s offices, and Evan’s heart dropped as another two appeared in the doorway. Five. Five vampires, their auras all roiling with the power that could only have come from drinking witch blood. Of their own volition, his eyes flicked to Greenway’s corpse, swallowing hard at the way the creatures stalking out of the offices and spreading out in the hallways had savaged him.

Kinard shifted, planting himself firmly in front of Evan, his movements shifting into the easy liquidity of a predator. The lead vampire—a massive blond man who looked like he’d fit right in as a bouncer or a bodyguard—looked Kinard up and down before zeroing back in on Evan. His companions weren’t nearly as physically intimidating, but Evan knew that didn’t mean anything. Evan was not a weak man in any measure of the word, but Kinard’s coven mate Lucy could have snapped him in half without any effort.

“Kinard,” blondie growled, his gaze never leaving Evan for an instant. “So you’re the reason our little present made it out of Gerrard’s party. Didn’t have that on the Bingo card, gotta say.”

Kinard tilted his head. “Do I know you?” he asked, his voice flat and cold, so different from the way he’d been speaking to Evan all day it was a little jarring.

Blondie finally looked away from Evan, smirking at Kinard. “Not personally. But don’t pretend the little traitor here didn’t give you the rundown.” He rolled his neck from side to side, scarlet light slowly starting to gleam in his eyes as his fangs dropped to visibility. He looked down at Greenway’s body, kicking it lightly. “Never tasted witch blood before…I’ve been missing out.” He narrowed his eyes at Kinard, his smirk turning a little more vicious. “Decide you’d rather keep him for yourself?”

“If you know who I am, then you know this isn’t going to go well for you, witch blood or no,” Kinard said, ignoring the vampire’s odd remarks. Why was he talking like Kinard knew what was going on here?

To Evan’s surprise, a couple of the other vampires glanced at each other uneasily. Logically, he knew that Kinard’s age granted him a lot of power…but he hadn’t realized it would be so much that a vampire might be worried about taking him on five to two. Especially as they’d all drunk witch blood as well.

“No reason this has to get violent,” Blondie said, though he very much sounded like he wanted it to get violent. “You walk out right now, we can all pretend we never saw each other.”

Kinard rocked back on his heels a little. “Generous. All right, kid, let’s go,” Kinard said, jerking his head toward the stairwell and holding out his arm back toward Evan like he expected Evan to tuck himself up under it.

Blondie chuckled mirthlessly. “Cute. Last chance, Kinard. Walk away. Leave the witch to us. I can’t say I blame you for trying to muscle in on the games, here…everyone knows your coven is strays and fresh turns. But you lost the gamble. Leave.”

A low, menacing growl reverberated through the hall. To his shock, Evan realized it was coming from Kinard. “Not. Happening.” The deadpan humor of a few seconds ago was completely gone, and Evan didn’t have to look to know Kinard’s eyes were glowing just as scarlet as the other vampire’s.

He bit his lip and murmured a spell, his power spiraling outwards and swirling around him. A circle of white light emblazoned itself on the floor, surrounding him totally. It was a risk splitting his focus on a barrier spell if he was going to be doing anything else—and trying to engage in combat magic without a coven bond was going to hurt no matter how quickly the fight went (and this was going to be a fight, there was no mistaking that). If he was going to risk using the kind of power it would take to help Kinard against five vampires, the smartest course of action would be to take the hit to fire off a transport spell and leave Kinard to deal with this mess.

He just…couldn’t bring himself to do it.

It was stupid, it was irrational…this was his chance to escape, damn it.

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave Kinard alone to deal with these things. So, he braced himself, firming up the barrier that would hopefully keep any of the vampires that got close to him at bay long enough for him to cast against them. He sent a silent thanks winging to Sally—wherever she was. She’d only been trying to teach him the kind of focus he’d need to wield the amount of magic he had when she had him practice casting without relying on his coven bond…but she was the only reason he was still able to cast the kind of spells he could without ending up a heap on the ground.

“Bad choice, Kinard,” Blondie said. “Very bad choice.”

Evan knew vampires were fast. He knew they were very fast. He’d seen it firsthand a couple of times since Kinard had taken him out of that mansion.

Kinard and Blondie seemed to fucking teleport toward each other. One second Kinard was standing right in front of him, and the next he was a dozen feet away, leaping at Blondie with a snarl that sounded more animal than human. They crashed into each other, and Kinard twisted in midair to get one arm around Blondie’s throat so that when they landed, he was able to fling Blondie like a goddamn battering ram at the other vampires. Three of them went down in a heap, skidding back over the hallway floor until they nearly hit the stairwell door.

Kinard glanced over his shoulder at Evan, as though checking to make sure he was still there, and then raced forward towards the two remaining vampires. Only one of them accepted the challenge, springing at Kinard with fangs bared.

It did not end well for him.

Evan nearly lost the concentration of the barrier, staring in horrified shock as Kinard’s hands closed around the other vampire’s neck. As he slammed into the other vampire’s body hard enough to take them both to the floor. As he made a wrenching motion with one arm and a fountain of blood erupted around him. Kinard casually tossed something the size of a basketball aside and oh God, oh God, oh God Evan couldn’t look. Didn’t want to look. Kinard rose from the still-twitching body of the vampire and took a few steps back, repositioning himself in between the remaining four and Evan.

Mere seconds had passed.

“Sure you still want to do this?” Kinard growled.

Blondie and the remaining vampires rose, a new, animalistic wariness in their movements. Evan watched them fan out like a pack of wolves about to attack and shook his head, forcing his shock at the sheer brutality he’d just witnessed aside. Another spell, and a ball of flickering fire erupted in each hand. For just a moment, he felt like he was standing in a frostbitten field again, Sally’s soothing voice in his head—Again, Evan—as he stared down an array of targets.

Blondie dove at Kinard again, two of the other vampires flanking him…but the fourth darted around them and made a beeline straight for Evan. He heard Kinard shout, saw the vampire lunge for the one that was barreling toward him, only to be dogpiled by Blondie and his flunkies. Evan braced himself, breathed, and flicked his hand forward, the spellword falling from his lips in a sigh. The fireball leapt from his fingertips, zinging through his barrier and straight towards the attacking vampire with the surety of a guided missile.

The look of shock on the thing’s face as his spell slammed home, fire and smoke racing over the vampire’s body like he was made of kindling, was very satisfying. The vampire screamed, clawing at his clothes and hair as ghostly white flames enveloped him, reducing the thing to ashes almost as quickly as Kinard had dispatched its friend.

Two down, three to go.

Kinard had gone down in a tangle on the floor with all three of the attacking vampires, fighting like a maddened bear. Evan searched frantically for an opening, somewhere he could aim and burn Blondie or one of his henchmen, but he couldn’t do it without hitting Kinard. His stomach twisted at the thought of the vampire erupting into ash, dying at his hand, and reluctantly he let the fire spell dissipate. Sweat started to bead on his brow, his heart starting to pound as he summoned another spell, holding it, holding it, holding it…

One of Blondie’s flunkies reared up, his fist pulled back as though he were going to drive it down into Kinard’s back, and Evan struck. He screamed the spellword, and an invisible force slammed into the vampire, sending him flying back to crash against the stairwell door and land on the floor in a heap. Evan summoned the fire again, his head swooping a little at the rapid shift between spells, at the effort it was taking to keep the barrier up, He didn’t dare drop it, though. The fireball erupted from his hands, striking home and the hallway once again echoed with pain-filled shrieks that abruptly cut off.

“Get the fucking witch!” Blondie screamed, getting his hands around Kinard’s throat and slamming him down onto the floor, straddling him to hold him down as his last remaining crony scrambled up.

Kinard twisted underneath Blondie, managing to get his legs up and kicking straight out. There was a sickening crack of bone as Blondie went flying back, and Kinard lunged to his feet, catching the charging vampire by the back of his shirt just before he crashed into Evan’s barrier. Despite himself, Evan stumbled back a step, losing his concentration on the fire and having to summon the flames a third time. His head was pounding now, sweat dripping down his face…God, he was not looking forward to the headache this was going to leave him with.

But he needed to live long enough to have to deal with the aftereffects of this.

Kinard whirled around, still holding the vampire and flung him towards Blondie with another animalistic roar. He looked over his shoulder again, his scarlet eyes finding Evan’s, and Evan grit his teeth, giving him a shaky nod of reassurance.

Blondie and his lone remaining companion climbed slowly to their feet, fangs bared, faces twisted with rage. Suddenly, though, Blondie cocked his head as though he heard something. Kinard whipped towards the bank of elevators and tensed, crouching like he was getting ready to spring again. Blondie chuckled, a sick sort of smile spreading on his face.

“Whoops. Should’ve taken my offer, brother.” Then he slammed the stairwell door open, and he and his companion vanished, taking a running leap straight over the railing and disappearing from view.

The elevator chime sounded, the doors sliding open to reveal a new group of people. Four this time, but Evan’s breath caught in his throat. All of them were witches. All of them in military-style jackets with the sigil of the SoCal high coven emblazoned on the shoulder. The one in the lead—an older Hispanic woman—reeled back in surprise, her mouth falling open as her eyes landed on the body of Greenway’s familiar, then snapped to Kinard.

“Kill it!” she shouted, throwing out a hand towards Kinard.

Evan was already dizzy and drained with the amount of magic he’d just used, the strain of casting so many spells so quickly grating over his nerves. Even so, he knew better than most what a high coven cleaner crew looked like. And just how uninterested they usually were in talking. He acted on instinct.

The barrier dropped and he lunged toward Kinard, grabbing the vampire’s hand tightly and screaming the only spell he could think of to save them both.

His magic erupted around them in a swirling orb of white light, and he had no time to aim it, no time to structure the spell and give it direction. He cried out the transport spell and the only thought in his head was: safe. Safe, safe, safe, safe.

The temp agency’s offices dissolved in a shimmer of light and a sensation he hadn’t felt in years enveloped him. He was falling, falling, failing, tumbling head over heels and the only solid thing, the only anchor he had was the feel of Kinard’s hand in his. His stomach dropped, his head swimming with the energy a transport spell took.

The spell dropped them with a thud, the white light fading and leaving sunspots dancing in Evan’s eyes. Or maybe it was just the dizziness from the strain of casting. He blinked hazily, a confused sort of shock running through him like an electric current when he realized he had transported them back to Kinard’s loft. They were standing in the middle of Kinard’s living room. What…

“Holy shit,” Kinard breathed, turning to look at Evan with wide eyes that had shifted back to their usual dark blue. They widened even further, and suddenly Kinard was standing right in front of him. “Evan? Fuck, are you all right?” he demanded.

Dimly, he realized it wasn’t sweat that was dripping from his nose and running down over his lips and chin. Shit. He’d overdone it. He’d overdone it bad. The floor seemed to be tilting under his feet and without thinking he reached up and steadied himself against Kinard’s chest.

“Evan? Talk to me,” Kinard continued urgently, and yeah…yeah, he really should say something. Or at least take a step back from the vampire—especially with his nose bleeding like a damn faucet.

He went to do that, and his knees folded underneath him entirely without his permission.

[guplia]

Hello anon! First of all, thanks for the ask! (asks? idk I received three anon asks at almost the same time, it would be weird if they didn't all come from the same person lol)

fix recommendations? read mine /hj Sure! Just note that while I've enjoyed a lot of wips, I'm only gonna recommend completed fics rn.

Okay! Here's all I can remember rn:

"Clouds" by youngmoInactive (fanfiction.net):

Original summary:

"Even though he's a hero, he's still a human. CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH. A nice look into Kai's perspective as he watches a close friend slowly lose a fight for his life."

Okay all I've gotta say on this one is that IT MADE ME CRY. OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Obviously I can't speak for everyone who read this fic but I think this will hurt Lloyd lovers. I have re-read it so many times to the point where I have half the fic memorised word-by-word. This is a must-read.

(if you're on the phone it's better to add "m." To the start of the URL)

"a day in the life of a fatherless child" by holographicknife (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"lloyd has a panic attack *confetti* title suggested by my friend lol loosely based on a crack rp between friend and i   Warning for: mentions of suicidal thoughts and medication, explicit descriptions of a panic attack, including tight chest, difficulty breathing, nausea, and headaches. Proceed with caution."

This is a Kai And Lloyd fic, and I love Kai And Lloyd fics! Specifically ones where they address Lloyd's trauma from Morro and where Kai comforts him. So if anyone's into this sort of stuff I'd recommend it!

"A Courageous Escape" by Lilac_Lily234 (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"In the midst of possession Morro hatred flows freely as he seeks to make Lloyd suffer for taking what he believes as his rightful title, but his cruelty know no bounds; Lloyd however refuses to give up but knows that time is running out, and in his desperation will find either salvation, or death.  - I don't own Ninjago, this is an au"

Ahem... once again, Lloyd goes through pain. A season 5 canon-divergent AU, from which my favourite part was... you guessed it! Lloyd having a panic attack and being comforted! But it's still a cool story besides too, season 5 being one of the best seasons imo.

While this fic is finished, the AU is not but I think this one has a good ending on its own.

"Out for revenge" by lloyd_slander (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"Harumi’s plan to resurrect Lord Garmadon failed, during her time in Kryptarium prison she heard about Morro, the master of wind, and guy who had managed to make Lloyd’s life a living hell. Wanting revenge, she doesn’t stop from anything, not even from getting Morro back from the dead. Or The duo we always wanted, but never got. Lloyd is in for a hard time. Head the tags, guys!"

Okay. This one is rated Mature for drug usage and blood (there was nothing sexual though)

So it's a Morro traumatising Lloyd fic again, but this time he's with Harumi! So it's double trouble for Lloyd! (things go VERY BAD for him >:3)

Honestly I can't say much except read the fic, the summary's right there lol.

"Revealed" by Nation_Ustria (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"Lloyd Garmadon is used to being hated. That's just how his life works—if someone knows that he's the son of the warlord who attacks Ninjago City on a weekly basis, they hate his guts. That's why he's made sure that his team—the only people he's ever been happy with—don't know who he is behind the mask, with the small price attached that he doesn't know their identities, either. It's not like they know each other's, anyways, so it's not a big deal. But then they find out. The fact that Lloyd's elemental power makes him an empath doesn't help, either. Basically the premise of the movie pre-reveal with show elements and personalities, and Lloyd's Green Power is him being able to sense and be influenced by the emotions of those around him."

Okay so here's a fic without Morro! (that's cause it's in the movie-verse) Another type of fanfic I like reading is where Lloyd in tlnm keeps his identity secret from the other ninja and it ends up getting revealed (like this one.).

I've seen this fic being recommended more than once and it's one of the fics with the most kudos in the entire fandom on AO3! So 2000 others agree with me on how awesome this fic is!!!

"What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger" by @crystaleclipse10 (CrystalEclipse on Archive of Our Own)

Original summary:

"Lloyd batted Red's hand away. “’m fine.” His head pounded, but at least it was quiet and dark. His hair tickled his nose. “What happened?” “We…didn’t get out in time,” Red whispered. “The missile exploded. We got everyone else out, though.” Lloyd relaxed and slumped forward as pure relief washed over him. They’d done it. They’d beaten Garmadon’s game. They’d freed the civilians and survived. Didn’t feel great, though. ~OR~ Lloyd and Kai get trapped under a building when it collapses, both injured. Angst and bonding ensue."

So it's another tlnm au fic! And this one has Kai And Lloyd bonding specific so I like it!!!

As I was reading this when it was still being updated I was very excited every time a new chapter would come out and my heart hurt for Lloyd each time! It IS worth the read! Just note that while tis fic is completed, the au is not.

"Officer Smith, Do You Copy?" by @hijabiwriter (same username on Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"Everyone has their reasons for becoming a police officer. Maybe they were forced. Maybe the profession stood out to them. Maybe they had some experience that prompted the idea of becoming a police officer. But that's only a few reasons. There are others, too. Like for instance, one of these officers is out for revenge."

This fic is entered around Nya, who's a police officer alongside Jay, Cole and Lloyd (for some reason Zane is not in this au/fic). Anyways her dark secrets are explored in every other chapter alongside the progressing story, and of course, an explanation is given to everything in the end.

On a personal note this is the fic where I left my first comment on my Ao3 account lol (the historic moment is on chapter 13!!!)

"Too Late to Say Goodbye" by @greenamethyst16 (same username on Archive of Our Own)

Original summary:

"Kai gets stabbed and Lloyd helps him... :D"

I think length-wise this is the shortest fic on the list but that doesn't make it bad!!! Basically Lloyd downplays his injuries and there are consequences... :D

"All the ways I say "I love you"" by @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off (Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21 on Archive of Our Own)

Original summary:

"Cole loves his team. They're his family and he does everything in his power to keep them safe and steady. He does his best to let them know he cares about them in every way but one.  Or  Seven times Cole couldn't quite say "I love you," and the one time he could."

Note: This story can only be read if you're logged in on AO3.

I like this fic because it encouraged me to remind my own irl friends how much they mean to me. In this story Cole believes that he's "the rock" of the team, and hence he doesn't show his emotions much. He's never told even one of them that he loves them and thinks that they deserve better than him. So stuff happens after that :D

Okay, I've read a lot more than this but this is all I'm gonna write about now cause I'm tired and I think this post has became too long. But if you wanna read more just check out the profiles of the writers! I haven't read everything myself but most of them have other good Ninjago fics to read!

If I've tagged you or mentioned your fic and you want it removed just let me know! I have no problem with removing it! :D

[theotherpacman]

got s1 is really a very faithful adaptation of agot, with only minor divergences. sometimes I really love the little details in the book that the show doesn't have room for, but sometimes I like the decisions the show made differently.

things I appreciate about the book:

the fact that jon is 14 makes his naivete regarding the wall hit so much harder. he's just a little boy and he's willing to sign his whole life away bc he believes he can be a part of something noble... neither his father nor his uncle nor anyone else tells him that to take the black is a grim sentence steeped in shame

ned hearing that bran's direwolf saved his life and being like "holy shit I killed one of them... what the fuck did I do"

sandor just whole ass traumadumping on 11-year-old sansa completely unprompted and then when he realizes he's just made himself vulnerable for literally no reason he goes "if you tell anyone about this I'll fucking kill you"

mormont thinks jon will be disappointed that bran is now a cripple but jon is so ecstatic bran's alive that he picks up tyrion lannister and spins him around (tyrion is startled by this) and then proceeds to cheerfully make friends with a guy who hates his guts bc jon kicked his absolute ass in training

tyrion and bronn starting to become friends on the way to the vale <3

THAT SINGER BITCH i love him

"whatever you may believe of me, lady stark, I promise you this -- I never bet against my family" screaming crying throwing up

jon going to maester aemon and convincing him to let sam take his vows!!!! using the metaphor of the maester's chain to make his point about how just bc sam is different that doesn't mean he's useless!!!!!!!

TYRION FIGHTING IN THE BATTLE AGAINST ROBB'S MEN!!!!! THE SHOW DID HIM SO FUCKING DIRTY i get that they didn't have as big a budget back then but come on man ToT

"when the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. when the seas go dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves. when your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. then he will return, and not before." LET THE BARRENNESS BE PART OF THE CURSE why did they cut that

when tywin says "because you are my son" tyrion fucking Hates him for that bc he knows that if jaime were he tywin wouldn't spare him a second glance, he's only Tywin's Son now that jaime is prisoner and might die at the hands of the starks

things I appreciate about the show:

arya shooting a bullseye from behind bran. queen

jaime being a dick to everyone all the time for no reason. just going around starting shit. also that scene outside robert's bedroom where he talks to jory. jaime in general

ROS!!!!! MY GIRL ROS MY ABSOLUTE QUEEN ROS

"she's our guest." "she's our prisoner." "do you find the two to be mutually exclusive in your experience, my lord?" lmaooooo get his ass maester luwin

"sometimes possession,,,,, is an abstract concept"

THE DRINKING GAME!!!! first of all it gives us more insight into shae as a person who is so different from tyrion's established worldviews, secondly tyrion is always going around saying offensive shit and he thinks nothing of it bc a) people say offensive shit to him all the time and that's one of the ways he deals with it and b) he's usually right BUT when he makes all those assumptions about shae he's totally wrong and she stands up for herself, but my favorite part of that scene is that tyrion is hesitant to share this traumatic story from his past but he's just made bronn and shae confront their traumas so now he has to share too. and I think that's beautiful

all of varys and petyr's bitchy conversations when they're alone in the throne room

this only covers the first book/season I might make more of these as I keep reading

[lousypotatoes]

I've Got A Smile On My Face

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9 Pt. 10 Pt. 11

Song Recommendation:

Always - Irving Berlin

Warning! This chapter contains depictions of panic attacks, and graphic violence! If this triggers you or makes you uncomfy in any way shape or form, please read with caution.

90 years ago...

It had been six months since Alastor kissed Y/N on her front porch. As expected, the two of them were now an item.

During the span of those six months, everything was absolutely perfect. The flower shop was thriving, Alastor's radio show was more popular than ever, Jasper didn't come by the shop since their interaction, and most importantly, Alastor and Y/N were so very much in love, Y/N felt that she fell more in love with him every time she saw him.

The only thing she didn't like about their relationship was the big secret she had to keep from him.

There were times that she oh so badly wanted to tell Alastor that her real job was killing people, and that running the flower shop was a cover up, but she was terrified that he was going to be disgusted with her, and leave her.

And Y/N didn't know what she would do if Alastor left.

It was mid afternoon, almost noon. The weather outside was very rainy and very stormy. Y/N was arranging the shelves, making sure the flower buds were facing the front.

It always annoyed her when customers would look at flowers and not put them back the correct way.

When she was done, she walked to the register and counted the money.

She sighed. Business was very slow that day, obviously because of the rain. She had almost considered closing the shop up early and going home, but felt it was better to just stay, just in case any customers came in after the rain cleared up.

Sitting down the chair behind the counter, Y/N put her head in her hands, bored as ever.

Hopefully Alastor would come and visit her. He always did, but Y/N thought he might not today obviously because of the stormy weather.

To her surprise and delight, she heard the bell ring, signaling that there was a customer.

"Hello can I help yo-Alastor!"

"Hello, my love," Alastor said, swooping down to catch Y/N in a kiss.

Y/N would never get tired of kissing Alastor, no matter how many time she did kiss him. It was like magic every time.

"How has your day been?" Alastor asked as he pulled away.

"Very slow, but much better now that you're here," Y/N smiled. "How was yours?"

"As slow as molasses," Alastor sighed. "I had to cancel all my broadcasts today because of this damn weather."

"Oh, that's a shame," she said. "It seems like this weather is bringin' everybody down."

"You can say that again," he said. "You thinking of heading home early?"

"I was thinkin' 'bout it," she replied. "I think I'll stick around for a few more hours."

"Well, if you're not busy tonight," Alastor said, grabbing onto her hips. "How about dinner at my place?"

"Depends," Y/N said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Are you gonna be the one cookin'?"

"Of course," he chuckled.

"Then I'll have to take a rain check on that," she giggled. "Dinner sounds nice, what time should I swing by?"

"I prefer around six," Alastor answered..

"Six it is," Y/N said. "You gonna head back home?"

"I suppose so, yes. I gotta tidy up a bit."

"All that for me?"

"Only the best for you, my dear," Alastor said, sincere. "I'll catch you later tonight."

"Aw, alright," Y/N pouted. "If I ain't there by at least seven, you better come and get me and drag me back to your place."

"Alright, I will, I promise," he laughed before leaning down and placing his lips on Y/N's.

The kiss was sweet and loving, as it always was. The way their lips perfectly molded against each other, like they were made for each other, made Y/N's heart feel like it was about to burst.

The only reason they broke apart was so they could breath air.

If Y/N could, she would make Alastor her air.

"Goodbye, Al," she smiled up at him. "I love you."

"I love you most," he said, before letting go of her.

He gave her one more smile before walking out of the shop, the bell ringing, signaling his leave.

Y/N walked back behind the counter, a dreamy smile on her face.

"I'm going to marry that man someday," she dreamily said to herself.

Even though it was rainy and story outside, nothing could ruin this perfect day.

It was 5:45 in the evening. Y/N was counting the money in the register for the twelfth time that day.

Besides Alastor, only three other people came in the shop that day.

Screw the rainy weather. No one even likes rain that much anyway.

Looking up at the clock, Y/N decided that she was going to stop working, and head over to Alastor's

Going into the back room, she put the money into a safe under a fake floorboard, checked her nightly schedule for that week (thankfully she only had to kill two people that week), and grabbed her umbrella and her raincoat, preparing to go into the cold rainy weather.

Walking out of the back room, she was stopped dead in her tracks, a look of fear and despair on her face.

"J-Jasper," she choked. "What are you doin' here?"

The two of them hadn't interacted since the incident in the flower shop six months ago. Y/N had hoped that Jasper had taken the hint and decided to leave her alone.

But this was Jasper we're talking about, and things never were easy with him, no matter how big or small the situation was.

"Just came to say hi," he said, a sadistic and gleeful smile on his face. He was holding something behind his back, but Y/N didn't know what.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other, thought we could catch up a bit."

He started to walk closer to Y/N, she started to back up.

"So now you're with that mama's boy, Alastor Altruist, huh?" he said, still grinning. "Didn't think you would be into a weirdo like that, but oh well."

Y/N didn't say anything, too frozen in fear to say a single word.

Jasper then revealed what was behind his back. It was a long, thin, razor sharp blade, the kind that Y/N would use when she didn't feel like using any of her guns.

If you wanted to kill someone real quick, you would use a blade like the one Jasper had.

Y/N's eyes widened in fear and terror.

She had a small pistol in her office, but there was no way she was going to be able to get it without putting up a fight.

"Y'know darling," he drawled, creeping very slowly towards her. "I didn't quite like the things you said to me the last time we talked.

Y/N gulped, slowly inching herself towards a shelf holding a dozen flower vases.

Jasper didn't notice. "Not gonna say anything, huh?" he asked, eyes glinting sinisterly.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm just gonna spill your fuckin' guts out."

Jasper lunged at Y/N, ready to strike.

Quickly, Y/N grabbed one of the vases on the shelf, and smashed it over Jasper's head, glass shards and flowers going everywhere all over the floor.

"You bitch!" Jasper snarled. He stopped in his tracks for a moment, clutching his bleeding head.

Y/N took this opportunity to try and run out of the front door.

She decided that it was stupid if she locked herself in her back room. If she ran out the front door, she could just run to the nearest public place and get help.

She was just a few feet from the door, when Jasper grabbed onto her wrist, twisting it hard.

Y/N turned around and was getting ready to punch him in the jaw, but that was replaced with a cry of pain and anguish.

Jasper had stabbed Y/N in the stomach, just above where her belly button was.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and fear, crying out again when Jasper stabbed her a second time.

"How does that feel?" he whispered. "Doesn't feel too good does it?"

"F-" Y/N stuttered. "Fuck you!"

With a snarl, Jasper stabbed her in the shoulder.

Blood was oozing out of all three of her stab wounds, staining both her and Jasper's clothes, and staining the white marble tile.

Jasper dragged her away, propping her in a siting position behind the counter.

"No one's gonna find you right here," he smirked. "Besides, you'll die in at least thirty minutes anyway."

Y/N knew that wasn't right, but didn't say anything, scared out of her mind.

What was she going to do?

She wasn't ready to die.

She didn't want to die.

What would happen to her shop?

What would happen to precious dog, Honey?

What would happen to Alastor?

As one last 'fuck you', Jasper bent down, kissed Y/N's sweaty forehead, and walked out the front door, the bell chiming.

As soon as he left, Y/N tried to get off the ground. She tried at least five times. But each time she tried, she failed, she fell back onto the ground with a painful wail.

After the fifth time, she stared up at the ceiling, wondering what would happen when someone found her body.

Maybe this was karma for all the people she had killed over the fifteen years she had been an assassin, she thought.

As Y/N thought about it more, she actually didn't feel like she was going to die. Yes, it was painful, but it just felt like she hadn't had any sleep in a really long time.

And she really wanted to sleep.

She looked up at the clock. It was 5:58.

She laughed dryly. If only she had left a little bit earlier, even if it was just a minute, she wouldn't of been on the floor bleeding out.

With one last sigh coming out of her mouth, she closed her eyes, succumbing to the darkness, and passed out thinking about Alastor and her dog.

In no way she was ready to die, or wanted to, but she accepted that there was nothing she could do, and that this was karma.

She deserved to die, she thought

CLIFFHANGER

i wont be uploading any time this weekend or next weekend because i'll be in disneyland

i'm so excited

stay safe and drink lots of water <33

xoxo, Izzy

Taglist 💋

@maksdust @trippoverrt @slytherin4ever @lucifers-silhouette @a-small-tyrant

@mo-0-o @cutiebimbo @mommymilkers0526 @mikariell95 @al-of-the-stars

@martinys-world @bibliophile-yomna @mysticwitchcraftco @notsoaverageguy-1997 @flamewriterr

[thehollowwriter]

Ok so since i love sad but bad boys i'm gonna ask blaze for your event-

How about reader(gender neutral or fem your choice) who is blaze's childhood friend and tries to make him realize what his mother wants is not what he wants

Thank you! (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

Hi! Sorry for the late reply! Yaaay a Blaze ask <3

Warnings: None. Word count: 520

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ♥️)

Art by @/moonyasnow

Choose

Blaze sat on one of the rocks closest to the shimmering water of the sea, throwing and catching a smooth, circular rock as he stared at the horizon. It was painted with beautiful purples and oranges as the sun gradually dipped down to welcome the night, giving Blaze at least something to appreciate on this shitty shitty day.

"You should get in," you said to him from your spot within the water, your tail flicking back and forth happily. "The water's wonderful."

"No." Blaze muttered. He didn't feel like changing forms right now. It was such an exhausting process.

An awkward silence reigned for a moment. Blaze kept throwing and catching his rock. Eventually, you spoke. "Your mom again?"

Blaze didn't answer for a while. He stopped throwing the rock and stared at it, turning it over in his hands.

"...I didn't get a main role in our theatre production." He growled out after a while, his voice softer and rougher than usual. "Not even a side character. I'm... 'too wooden'. Mom says she's wasting money and time on me if this is what she gets back for all those acting lessons..." He put his head in his hands. "I'm tyring. I'm trying so hard, but she just doesn't care. Now she wants me to do lessons and advice from Vil fucking Schoenheit."

You didn't say anything for a while. The same string of thoughts you always had every time Blaze mentioned acting flooded through your mind.

'You shouldn't have to be an actor,' you wanted to say, 'Do what you want. Don't you want to choose what to do with your life?'

You rarely did, though. He got so upset every time. But a question on the tip of your tongue escaped before you could stop it.

"Blaze," you said before you could stop yourself. "Is acting what you really want to do? It's more your... your mom's wishes than your own."

Blaze glanced at you, then threw his rock. It skipped across the water before sinking below the waves and into the ocean's depths.

"Of course it's what I want!" He hissed venomously. "I don't even like Alchemy that much. It's just an interesting subject!"

You drew in a breath, refraining from pointing out that you never mentioned alchemy.

"But you don't like acting either." You insisted. "You always hate going to classes. You said you wanted to be in a different club too-"

"Because I hate hearing Vil talk like he's all that when his daddy's money gave him everything! I would like it if that bastard wasn't there!"

You grinded your teeth. "Blaze, you've never been happy about anything to do with acting. You don't like acting. This isn't what you want, Blaze, it's your mom who-"

"Will you shut up?" Blaze hissed. "I'm going to be an actor, and I'm to be Vil Schoenheit levels of famous! You can either support me like a good friend should or get lost."

There was a long pause.

"Okay, well," you said, hiding your hurt. You picked up a smooth circular stone of your own and threw it in the same direction as Blaze threw his. It only skipped a few times before sinking. "Best of luck."

A heavy silence reigned between the both of you. You stared at Blaze. You stared at his face, the way his jaw set in a grimace, and the way his eyes seemed to water.

He could do so much more, be so much more, but he didn't want to. Or he didn't think he could. It hurt to see. But you stayed silent.

You disappeared into the water and left Blaze to sit on his rock. Alone.

-End

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading! Blaze is a bit mean, sorry :(

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[n0tamused]

"Deeds, not words"

A/n: Finally finished this and tbh I am very proud of how it came out even if I see that I could have done better in certain areas. I prefer the first one better, but tbh I love them both. I have scrambled together a little story to go along with this, although I do have to warn that the details of Jien and Proxy's story, how it really unfolds, is still subject to change. This drabble here is just me exploring ideas of how Proxy can start seeping more and more poison into Jien's life, but we'll see. To anyone that does read it, thank you <3 Mwah.

Contents: Syaoran, a technician of the team of Armed Archeologists, is accompanying Jien to Scalegorge Waterscape at the invite of a High Elder. What waits for them there is no warm welcome.

There is an odd tension in the air, so ill it made him sick. Scalegorge Waterscape had towering walls of water all around, and it felt as if they were ready to swallow him at any moment, the sky above being the only solace. The air was still with the smell of salt, and there was a quiet sound. Like the one a dog made before it growled. 

Miss YueXia didn’t budge, and Syaoran judged it was because she was from these parts. Perhaps she felt at home even, but whether that was good or bad didn’t have space in their conversation with the Elder before them. And now he could sense that feeling of anger from Jien, he only wished he could see her face from where he stood, a step behind her. Did she look angry? Or was it that cold expression she once served the team after that messed up expedition?

“We have welcomed you into our fold and treated you as our own. Yet our eyes have reported your face sneaking about in the night around the Luofu, sowing suspicions and spreading gossip. Is this your way to show gratitude, YueXia?”

The Elder looked at Jien with cold suspicious eyes. 

“High Elder, while I appreciate your invitation to meet me I fail to see how or why I would do such things, especially since I have not been on the Luofu in almost a year” she replied, cold and even tone, yet there was an unmistakable tinge of some need below it all - a need to make things right. A flicker of a flame. 

“Moreover, I have never wished you or the people of Luofu any ill will and I have always advocated for the safety of the civilians as much as a Cloud Knight. Did you bring me here to confront me for something another has done?”

“Another?” the Elder bristled, arrogance rolling off of him like a cloak. “I have seen it myself, this ‘another’ was you. I saw your face in the darkness. And you dare lie to my face? The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus have been on the prowl and you with them. I knew the IPC wishes to get their clutches on the Vidyadhara, but I refused to believe you would aid in such a goal”

That is not true, Syaoran wanted to say, feeling his face twist in displeasure. Jien was against the Abundance, against the Disciples, the whole team knew, but even if she wasn’t - her team was. Syaoran knew Kaiya had a burning hatred for the Abundance and his wife was from the Xianzhou Yaoqing. He’d be the first to jump against any idea of Jien bringing any harm to Xianzhou Luofu, but everyone knew she’d sooner go mad than think of such schemes. 

“Do you know how many you’ve hurt with your doings? And you wish to say my eyes are deceiving me as well?” 

Jien’s eyes fell dark and darker still, her jaw stiff as she ground her teeth together, listening to the Elder talk without interrupting him.

“I meant no insult when I previously said you were mistaken in your assertion, but now you are accusing me and my team of inexcusable crimes and I will not tolerate such” Her tail brushed against the cold stone, pale and gnawed away by sea and time. “High Elder, I can assure you I had no chance to do such things, even if I had the plan to ever harm you and the people, which I remind you again - I never did and never will do. I was half a cosmos away. Do you propose I have, perhaps, cloned myself? I pray you don't jest, High Elder, and listen to what I have to say. Who you saw was not me, I swear on my life..” Jien put her hand over her heart to show her sincerity as the seams of her silence began to tighten and break. 

The Elder Syaoran couldn’t remember the name of frowned deeply at her words, distrust swimming in his eyes, body taut as a bow string. “And you propose I believe you over the reports of countless others?” 

“I cannot force you to put those reports aside and trust my word alone, but I hope the eyewitnesses of my team, as well as camera surveillance and date records of my passage through the cosmos can be proof enough to you and so many others that are holding the belief that I or any of my team have committed these crimes. I am more than willing to bring them all over here, to you, as soon as morning comes if that would let your mind let go of these beliefs” Jien sighed and shook her head a moment later. “Although, I do fail to see - if these crimes are so severe, I would have expected someone else to come and question me about them..” there was a mild insult interlaced between her words and tone, so skillfully that not even the Elder before her could point it out without sounding mad.

He only exhales a long breath through his nose. “You will be questioned by the Ten-lords Commission” he said, tone resolute. Syaoran could see Jien move her hands behind her back, her fingers forming into a fist. Somthing told Syaoran that the High Elder came to this decision on the spot.. “The evidence is overwhelming and not in your favor. But I will give you until morning to bring your evidence to us, and we’ll take it from there”

[johnconstantinekissesmen]

oh eddie

[firstroseofspring]

thinking pondering to me john torres is like. what if u met a woman. with confidence and dignity and a strong moral backbone. you meet and she makes a distinct impression with her honesty and her frankness and she seems like she's always sure of what she wants and what she needs and she's so different from anyone else you know and thats exciting and she's exciting and she likes you specifically you. and you don't think much of you but it feels good to be liked by someone like that. you love her of course. you marry her. of course!