#i could keep going but i shant

[plasticsandwich]

its incredible how so many of you cqn make absolutely beautiful gorgeous breath-taking stuffs

[icewindandboringhorror]

Current temperature inside of my room right now in the middle of the night whilst about to go to sleep... villain origin story...

[ankhisms]

dont know how to explain but i feel like that scene in black sails where anne has had the shit beaten out of her and shes on the floor of the deck and she just grabs the shards of glass on the floor and you just see her with her face in shadows gripping the shards of glass in her hands. yeah

[springcatalyst]

🖊 for any milo and/or reiji details they fascinate me ^-^

YES thank u they live in my brain

Let me go on a tangent before I even get to what this ask actually is cause why wouldn’t I- Milo and Reiji are interesting characters to compare to each other, because despite their entwined storylines, I don’t draw a lot of connections between them as they were designed.  Characters that never interact are fun to draw conclusions with because it’s more obscure out-of-universe things:  Julian and Milo are so different but they follow very similar paths and come from very similar places.  Milo and Brooke (actually they do interact but only like, once) both deal with the results of a corrupted worldview that once questioned, can’t be ignored once again.  Reiji and Diana share an inherently wary, bleak outlook on how the world functions as a result of their own experiences.  And characters that do interact but were designed that way are... designed that way.  Julian and Liliana are the same stuff poured into different molds, impossibly similar and impossibly different, and that drives everything about their relationship- they’re foils.  Diana and Julian start at the same place in the same situation, (for different reasons), and end up wildly different people in opposite directions- they are diverging paths evidenced by truth or lies. 

But Milo and Reiji aren’t connected by anything inherent or anything unchangeable.  Their meeting in the first place is mostly chance and a little bit of give and take of compassion.  They stick together because the alternative is being alone in a world that’s so much bigger than both of them, so much older, and just a little bit more broken.  Their relationship is a choice in a way that really isn’t the case for a lot of other characters. 

And I mean, they do have parallels, but they seem different somehow, because they actually apply in-universe.  They reflect off each other.  They both leave something behind that they wish they could get back: but while Reiji’s was taken from him by circumstance and chance, Milo’s was a culmination of something grown that eventually he had to choose to abandon, though if there was any other way, he would have taken it.  (He tried, before.  It didn’t work.) 

But now they’re both missing something, and with it, their place.  Reiji doesn’t know where he belongs and the truth is that he doesn’t belong anywhere.  He can’t return to the one place he did- (it wasn’t a place, but a people.  They’re long gone, even as they live) -and now he searches aimlessly for someplace he can return to.  He doesn’t find one.  Milo loses everything he’s ever known when he walks away, and even as he makes the decision to, it feels like the admission of some crime (it looks that way to them, and he knows it).  He longs for the community he lost, but even if he gets something close to it, it’s wrong, because it isn’t them, and because the reason he left still follows him. 

They’re both ghosts wandering a vast expanse of unknown.  There is exploration in it- Milo especially does genuinely love the places he passes through, the people he meets briefly, the idiosyncrasies of each town, city, village.  Reiji less so- he’s only ever known the wandering, so it isn’t as special to him.  He’s always looking for something that will change, but even so, traveling with Milo forces him to see things he wouldn’t otherwise. 

The difference between them is that Milo stops being a ghost.  As time goes on, less and less is searching and more and more is exploring.  More is fixed than is broken.  But the opposite is true for Reiji.  As he finds nothing it feels more and more like he is one of very, very few.  That he has found no place to exist because there is no place for him, for those like him.  Reiji is looking for answers in an environment that buried most of them, in a world that hunts the rest.  And it becomes this obsession- a thousand whys. 

Why didn’t his flock look for him?  Why did he even survive?  Why is he hunted?  Why did it start and why won’t it change?  Why is the world sitting on the ashes of an older one?  Why are people broken by something they don’t remember?  Why does every place he goes scream that there used to be more?  Why are his people a part of it?  Why are they here?  Why do they occupy a world that is so clearly not made for them?  Why does he not know where they are made for? 

Reiji asks a thousand whys and they can all be summarized by one what: What happened?

Milo and Reiji cross incomprehensible distances and in the time that takes, a lot changes.  Milo goes from being a ghost of who he was and who he should be to being alive in a way he wasn’t before, genuine in a way he didn’t allow.  Milo looks for an answer in a different way than Reiji, because he is looking for certainty.  He wants someone to tell him, with no room for error, what is true and what is corrupt.  He wants surety and permanence in a way that just doesn’t exist, and so instead must choose which side he’s on- he must decide what to believe, because nobody can tell him black and white.  With that choice becomes an acknowledgement that the world isn’t as simple as good and evil, and the two can very much coexist, that perfect and unredeemable don’t really exist, not here, anyway.  He’s allowed to just be.  Reiji, though, doesn’t get the opportunity to make that choice, to take that answer.  He isn’t looking for the answer to a moral question or a cosmic should.  He is looking for a reason, which is an order of magnitude more impossible to find.  He looks to the past for why and the nature of time is that he keeps getting further and further from it.  He finds very little, which only makes him look harder, which makes it worse when he finds even less.  He starts down an impossible spiral that he can’t get out of until he finds what he wants, but what he wants just doesn’t exist in the way he needs. 

[dirt-str1der]

In yk1 when you make kiryu eat when his health is full and he says “If i eat another bite i’ll burst” , that was sexual as hell

[rigginsstreet]

why am i actually considering that last anon message tho lmfao

[dairy-farmer]

Is me~ back to haunt you Ask Box o/ because I just had A Thought(tm)

What if~? The OPPOSITE of my Magic Sex Toy idea? Uno Reverse?

But how would that even work? You say. Tim would very obviously notice!

Oh ho ho~ ye of little Faith! *slaps my "join the Church of Civilian Tim" poster I obviously made myself* CONSIDER! Not a cape! Semi-stable schedules!

We open our scene with stalking. As ya do. Tim would prefer you call it "bird watching" or "observing the night life" but... let's be real here. Stalking. He's getting them NICE Premium Pics for his Definitely-Not-A-Stalker-Shrine. There's a newbie on the scene. A gaudy robe wearing mofo.

3 guess what HIS shtick is. First two don't count.

But! Thing is? Tim is no long a wee baby faced pre-teen. He is a Man(tm). Legally, twice over. And well... you find a LOT if Neat Late Night Shops running after the bats. He may have been persuaded by CERTAIN libidos that maybe he should check them out. Who can say? You can't prove ANYTHING. These bags are groceries and no you can't check..

Where was he? Ah, right, Pics of the Nightwing booty. *click*

Tim forgets Rule Number 1.5: ALWAYS keep an eye on what the villian is doing.

By the way... what that bright light? Oh, just a SPELL BOLT. Fuckin DODGE, MAN!

He fails to dodge.

🥺 H-His camera... Night-booty... Also why does he feel? Tingly? He doesn't stick around to figure it out. Grabs his TRAGICLY dead camera and bolts. Not getting caught at the scene of the stalking TODAY, no sir! Batmans definitely gonna check the area and he SHANT be there! Early night it is!

He gets back to his apartment. Still feels tingly... but less? Maybe those charms he looked up how to make protected him after all. Still, shouldn't push his luck, you know? He settles in for the night. Gets a warm shower.

Comes out and eyes the bags he dropped by the bed... and... well...

He DID wrap up early~ Maybe treat for Timmy time. He digs them out.

Weird.

They? We're already pretty life like (it's why he bought them) but... when he TOUCHES one? He swears it gets MORE life like? He really should look this up or something... suspect toys in Gotham and all... but on the other hand? Horny. And the boxes WERE closed. It's fiiiiine.

But which one? It's kinda been a while. And he doesn't want to be sore tomorrow. This one!

So Tim lays back. Let's himself enjoy working himself open. Then works the fake(?) Cock inside himself. And oh~ it's WARM. Twitchs. He let's himself enjoy a slow, lazy session. Get really sloppy and relaxed before finally finding juuust the right angle aaaand~

Across the city, the current Robin, Damian Wayne, is shaking APPART on a roof top. Sweat pouring down his temple, thighs trembling as he tries ro stop himself from rutting up into empty air. It won't help. Won't make the damnable TEASING go any faster. Wet and tight and PERFECT around him.

Came out of NOWHERE. One second he was patrolling, the next barely catching himself from falling. Stumbling into an alchove on some god forsaken roof. Hands fumbling to turn off his comms. Absolutely not. They could NOT hear him like this.

Panting into hands pressed tight over his own mouth to stiffle the sound he wants to make. Beg and demand that magnificent heat go FASTER. Plunge him DEEPER. But he CANT. Because there's no one there. Just him and the slowly increasing pressure in his balls, begging for relief.

Then, like prayers answered, it DOES. He could WEEP. Can't stop the aborted jerks of his hips as he chases his relief. Soon is trembling like the virgin he ISNT anymore as he spills into... into SOMEONE.

They take it so well. So perfectly.

He's RUINED. His hand will never be enough after this. And Tim has no idea.

Sure, he's not stupid. He didn't buy toys the fake cum. (So to be safe plan B it is) But? In the cold like of day? Prooooobably magic sex toys. Eh. It's Gotham. Not the weirdest thing to happen. Tim's keeping them.

And using them.

Thus begins the "phantom lover" incident, as Bruce will insist on calling it. Because "we were haunted by random fuckings" sounds... unprofessional. And he's a Dramatic Bitch at heart.

Damian, obviously, told NO ONE. Patrol? Utterly normal. Mind you business. But Bruce? Uncomfortable conversations for EVERYBODY~☆

See, Tim has a long day. His new camera isn't gonna be in for a WEEK. There is no point in going out. So his evening stretchs long and empty before him. Which... SPEAKING of things both long and things empty... >.>

He remembers. There was an absolute UNIT that he bought. It also has that base... which mean he could put it on the sex pillow. Try riding it... oh he's GOTTA, now.

Lucky for Bruce, he's not even in the cave when it hits. Unluckily, it is a cock teasing hell. Nothing to hold. No body to press close. No skin to run his hands across or ears to whisper filthy praise. So TIGHT. Fluttering and fighting to take him. Sinking little by little. Can't even HEAR him praising them. He can't even distract them, rub their clit and sooth them as muscles relax.

Can't hold them by the hips and work them up and down. They way he knows will work best. At angles that will make them SOB. Just nothing, nothing, nothing. Trembling and eager around him but so SLOW. Pausing again and again to adjust. Can't thrust in, can't pull out, only TAKE it. Let himself be teased.

But OH. When they finally, FINALLY get a rythme? He knows they can hear a word he says. Not yet. But the FILTH he growls. The audacity of what they're doing. He's GOING to find them. Going to pin them done and-

Tim spend the next day sore, but happy. Definitely not an "every day" sort of toy, but holy shit the orgasm. He hasn't slept this well in a WHILE. Though... when he wakes up? The Bats are acting weird. Violent, hyper-focused, seemly shaking down leads with a single minded enthusiasm. Weird.

Speaking OFF. Now he's wondering... does the possibly fake cum... TASTE like real cum?

One way to find out.

And... look. Dick may have been warned, but it's one thing to hypothetically get your bits milked dry and another to be doubled over seeing the face of god. He would gladly kill a man for the ability to grab hold of whoever is doing this and ram home. The mouth on him is a thing of wonder and it keeps TEASING the tip. They keep running soft, pampered, little hands up and down his length. God he wants them to feel him in their GUT. Fuck their face and their ass and any OTHER holes they have til everything is sloppy and wet and-

Yep! From the tast flooding Tim's mouth, that's real cum. Good his he got his shot. But it begs the question... whoms't exactly is he fucking? Tim's not sure he's comfortable with random hook ups. What if, Gods forbid, it linked him to the JOKER or something!? He'd have to blow up the city and everyone in it.

He considers this as he resumes his sta- he means, BIRD watching. Newly be-camera-d. Weirdly enough, now Nightwing is acting off too. What is going ON? Also... he could of SWORN he saw the Red Hood a second ago. Did he leave? Aaw D:>

.....what's that sound?

*boss music starts playing* That would be the Red Hood. Owner of the mythical Common Sense gene. HE immediately phoned a friend! And by THAT we mean he beamed up to The Watchtower to get poked at by magic users until he had a scanner.

Beep beep, mother fucker. You have explaining to do.

OR, counter argument.... Tim makes a run for it. Doesn't GET far. But he Sure Did Try! Jason is unamused. Consent is sexy, kids. And he has the gun to explain that. But! TIM has the panic babbling to explain his horny stupidity and innocence.

Fair enough. He's confiscating them though. If you get horny, just fucking ask.

Wait.... really? Does Jason really mean that?

And... two things. Cute Horny Idiot knows his identity. And.... he never said HE wasn't also apparently a horny idiot. Sure, why the fuck not.

He confiscate the magic contraband... then bends that twink in HALF. Comms off, back into it. Tim can barely breathe, pressed down so tightly to the bed as his guts get re-arranged, callused hands holding his legs spread, his childhood hero rumbling FILTH into his ear as hips snap against his, again and again and AGAIN. The world is hot and fuzzy around the edges and... AND-!

Jason's pretty damn smug that HES not only the one who found mystery twink, but them fucked him incoherent. He seriously considers just... not saying anything. Whoops! Nothing to find here folks. To bad the Watchtower is a fuckin snitch.

So obviously Bruce finds out. And wants to "talk to him". Which inevitably ends with Tim, pressed close to his front, held still as he "fucks him properly". Which as far a Tim is concerned is a god damned excuse to EMPALE him on his monster of a cock. Work it deeper and deeper, all while holding him like a lover, as he absolutely DESTROYS Tim's poor puss. Makes him lose count of how many times he's gotten off. Until everything is too bright and hyper sensitive. Til it's nearly hurting but not quite there and all Tim can think about, as he whimpers and drools, is SLEEP.

Oh... and THEN he wants to talk about how Tim knows their secret identies. Ask him in the morning or Tim WILL cry at you.

He wakes up in Wayne Manor. He did not go to sleep in Wayne Manor. He can't move his lower body with out pain. Bruce is clearly pretending he planned that. Liar.

Then? Karma. His horny chickens come home to roost. Has Bruce introduced you to his sons? This is Dick and Damian. They remember you. And would like a "word".

(The word is sex and they would like it as soon as possible)

👀👀👀!!!!!!!!!!!! a reverse magic sex toy!!!!!!!!!!!!! where tim tortures the other bats by fucking his little pussy with their cocks while they're forced to just suffer and endure it until he's finished. more than once they almost scream from frustration because tim finishes before they do and he pulls them out of his warm, slick little hole. 👀👀👀👀

[beyondthesefourwalls]

This Love Came Back to Me (7)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, allusions of smut and potential full smut, stalking, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part Seven Word Count: 5.1K

Part Six :: Series Masterlist

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-----

You were slow to get up on Monday morning. Your body was reluctant to move from beneath the covers, your mind even more so. The dread of the week ahead had already settled in your stomach before your eyes had even fluttered open. 

Something told you that it was going to be a bad day, and as you got ready for work, that thought grew stronger and stronger. You had used the wrong moisturizer, and then had gotten toothpaste on your black blouse and had to change. You spilled your favorite hard-to-find coffee creamer, and to top it off, you couldn’t find your favorite necklace that you wore more often than you didn’t. You were almost positive you had put it on the jewelry plate on your dresser last night like you always did, but it was nowhere to be found this morning. A quick check behind the dresser and in the drawers proved no luck, and it wasn’t on your bathroom counter, either. You wondered if maybe you had left it at Bradley’s on accident, but you swore you had been wearing it when you came home. 

Nerves prickled at your skin once you left your house, growing steadily the closer you got to the office. You prolonged going in for as long as you could, sitting in the car until the very last minute before you forced yourself inside and up the elevator. You breathed a sigh of relief when you noticed you were the last one to make it in and everyone else was already focused on what they were doing. You don’t bother with any pleasantries as you start toward your desk - your very flower and coffee free desk, as it was. 

As you did every morning, you checked your calendar to remind yourself what was on the agenda for the day. You swallowed thickly when you noticed a calendar invite with your boss that definitely hadn’t been there when you left on Friday. Glancing down at the clock in the corner of your screen, you cursed under your breath and shot to your feet. 

You paused outside of Gretchen’s door once you got to it, taking a second to catch your breath from your mad dash from your desk before knocking. Her voice was clipped when she told you to come in. 

“Good morning,” you greeted, forcing as much chipperness into your tone as possible. Your boss didn’t have the same courtesy and barely looked up from her computer screen.

“I need you to pick up the Randolph and Jackson accounts while Deana is out the next few weeks. There should be notes in her files. I need some preliminary drafts to present to them by the end of the day.” 

Anxiety formed in your stomach at having something else thrown on your already very full plate. You truly were at capacity with your workload. Normally, you would grin and bear it.  But you had stopped interpreting her giving you more as her trusting you a while ago. You knew it was just a power play and too high blind expectations to follow it on her part. 

“Am I being partnered with someone on this?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“Like who?” 

“Lauren? Or maybe Joey, or Shante?” you listed off anyone you could think of. The clicking of Gretchen’s keyboard halted as she stopped typing, finally looking up at you from her spot behind the cluttered desk. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. 

“Can you not handle the extra work?” 

“Well, I-” 

“I was going to partner you with Paul,” she said, and the stress you were feeling deepened, your skin crawling at even the thought. “But because of the open HR investigation you insisted upon, I was advised against it. So unless you want to drop that, you’ll be handling these solos. You wanted more responsibility anyway, didn’t you?” 

It took all of your willpower not to flinch. She didn’t bother trying to hide her opinion on the matter, her words laced with disdain and sarcasm. You felt scolded and embarrassed at how she was blatantly judging you, and feeling that way in turn made you angry, too. You had no reason to feel those things - you had done nothing wrong, here. You remembered what Bradley had told you. He was insistent that this wasn’t your fault. Deep down you knew he was right, even if it took you some time to reach him there. You knew that it wasn’t fair that you were being looked at and spoken to this way, by your boss, nonetheless. 

You breathed in deeply, silently centering yourself. You didn’t like confrontation, but you hated being belittled even more. You cleared your throat and stood a little bit taller, squaring your shoulders. 

“I won’t be dropping it.” 

“Are you sure?” she asked, and you’d be blind not to see the challenge written all over her face. You couldn’t believe that once upon a time, when you first started at this company, you admired this woman. 

“I’m positive,” you stated. You were so glad that your voice didn’t shake, because you were trembling on the inside. You continued on before you lost your nerve, the words rushing out of you once they started. “It was within my rights just like it would be within anyone else’s. So I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t ask me things like that, or imply that I’m being punished for standing up for myself by forcing me to handle the work of an additional person on my own, when I'm already doing the work of two people on a regular basis. That’s retaliation. And it’s not okay, nor is it fair.” 

Gretchen’s expression was one of surprise, no doubt shocked at the backbone you had suddenly grown in response to her. She wasn’t used to people questioning her authority, or anything that she did, really. You hadn’t seen a single person challenge or talk back to her the whole time you’ve worked together. You were probably the last one she expected to break the streak, but god, you were so damn tired.   

“Well then,” her voice dripped in sarcasm when she finally spoke, “I see someone paid attention to the policies in the employee handbook.” 

“It’s not a policy,” you corrected without skipping a beat, “It’s a law.” 

She stared at you for a long, tense moment. Slowly, you watched as her face morphed into something colder. Her lips curled into a sneer and her hazel eyes narrowed. Her thin arms folded over her chest as she leant back in her chair. But you refused to squirm under her glare, instead meeting it head on. 

Gretchen was the first to cave, whether it be because she sensed you weren’t going to or because she knew she was in the wrong. You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t care. 

Her blonde hair swayed when she shook her head in your direction, a poorly contained scoff leaving her mouth as she returned her attention to the computer screen, resuming the typing she was doing before you got here. “I expect the information needed for the Randolph account on my desk by the end of the day,” she said, “I’ll have someone else work on Jackson. Get to work, and shut my door on the way out.” 

There’s more you could have said - more that you wanted to say. But you knew a dismissal when you heard one, and you had pushed the boundaries further than you ever had before. And truthfully, you were desperate to be out of her presence. You spun on your heel and left her office without another word. In a split second show of defiance, you didn’t close the door all the way like she had requested. You heard her call after you, but you kept walking. 

Oh my God, you thought. You couldn’t believe you had just done that.  

You glanced at your phone when you got back to your desk and saw a text waiting for you. Based on the timestamp, it must have arrived shortly after you had shot up to go to the last minute meeting. 

Bradley🐓✈️❤️:Going up in the air soon. How’s work? 

Your hands shook as you typed out a message in return. The adrenaline from your anger still pulsed in your veins, but you could feel yourself coming down from it, your nerves starting to buzz under your skin instead.

Cross your fingers that I get responses on applications this week, because I might be getting fired. 

To your surprise, the dots that indicated Bradley started typing back popped up almost immediately. You breathed a sigh of relief that he still had his phone on him, because you needed some sort of interaction right now that wasn’t from people in this office. 

Bradley🐓✈️❤️:What?

You gave him the short version of your interaction as a headache started forming at your temples. You dug around in your bag until you found the bottle of ibuprofen you kept there, swallowing the pills down quickly with a sip of your coffee. 

Bradley🐓✈️❤️:That’s my girl. I’m proud of you, baby.  

You had a tendency to cry when you were angry, something you hated because it made you feel weak, and combined with the stress and the sweetness of the words, you weren’t all that surprised when you felt the tears prick the back of your eyes. You took a deep breath and chewed your bottom lip, fighting to keep them at bay. 

You were at your desk in the middle of the office and you refused to let these people see you cry.  

You tried to think of something to say in return. Three words flashed in your mind, your fingers itching to type them for the briefest of moments before you push them away. You didn’t think you could handle trying to figure out those emotions right now. You must have taken too long, because your boyfriend was sending another message before you could reply at all. 

Bradley🐓✈️❤️: Heading up now. Don’t worry about work. None of those people are worth it. 

It was exactly what you needed to be told in that moment, and your heart swelled for this man. You wished you were with him now. 

Let me know when you’re safely back on planet earth, please. Fly safe, aviator❤️

____

You weren’t naive enough to think finally standing up to Gretchen would solve all of your problems. You also didn’t expect to become something of an office pariah by lunch that day though, either. 

It seemed that suddenly everyone knew what had happened not only with Gretchen, but with Paul, and about the multiple complaints you had filed against him. You felt the stares and heard the whispers, not having to try hard to accomplish either because no one was going out of their way to hide it. Judgment came off of people in waves, making you feel like the worst kind of center of attention. You were hot and itchy with discomfort. 

It was a struggle to stay focused to hit the deadlines you had, and when you emailed everything over to Gretchen a little bit after 5:00, the immediate response you got was her informing you that you were ten minutes late, and that a deadline for another client that you normally handled was moved to tomorrow. Every part of you wanted to respond by telling her that would have been nice to know in advance and so it sounded like a her problem. But the client in question was someone you genuinely enjoyed working with. They were always so good to you, and you didn’t want to let them down because of Gretchen’s thoughtlessness of telling you this last week. You gritted your teeth, wishing you would have listened to Bradley when he suggested taking off of work. 

By Thursday, you felt like you were going to crawl out of your skin. The whispers had turned to full fledged talking now, people vocally making it clear that they didn’t believe you and weren’t on your side. The rumors that floated around were starting to get vicious. Each one was more outlandish than the one before. They made the days longer, each minute feeling like an hour, and considering you hadn’t left earlier than 8pm due to the extra work given to you, you felt like you were slowly but surely losing your mind; you didn’t know how much more of it you could take. 

To make matters worse, you hadn’t seen Bradley all week, though not for a lack of trying. You missed him. Your nightly phone calls were one of the only things getting you through, and last night you had been so tired that his voice had lulled you to sleep barely 10 minutes into the call. Your phone was below 10%, but you could have cried when you woke up and saw that the line was still connected. Bradley hadn’t hung up, and he was there when you called out for him. When you switched the call to Facetime, you could see he was getting ready for work, his uniform already on and a toothbrush in his mouth. 

“Morning, beautiful.” 

You could practically feel the bags under your eyes, and you knew your hair was all over the place. You didn’t feel very beautiful right now, but you smiled at him anyway, the compliment making you feel warmer than the blankets you were still laying under. 

“Good morning. I don’t want to get up,” you groaned pathetically, burrowing yourself further into the pillow under your head. Bradley chuckled lightly, but didn’t say anything as he finished brushing his teeth. When you forced your heavy eyes back open, the thoughtful, contemplative look he was giving you reflected through the screen. His brown eyes were full of something that your tired mind thought was worry. “What?” you asked quietly. 

“I’m going to come see you tonight,” he said. “I’m tired of things getting in the way. I want to see my girl. I don’t want to wait until the weekend again.” 

The early morning rasp in his voice made you shiver. Your heart raced in anticipation, suddenly feeling a little bit more awake. You weren’t going to point out that the weekend would have just been one extra day at this point, because truly, you felt the exact same way. “I’d like that.” 

You told him you’d do everything in your power to leave as close to 5pm as you could, and he promised the same in regard to leaving the base. You had stayed on the phone for as long as you could before hanging up. In the beginning of the day, thinking about seeing him had been the only thing getting you through. But by the middle of the afternoon, the snide comments and judgy looks from people had consumed you. 

You knew you were strong, and you did everything you could to remind yourself that they were just words, and that these people meant nothing to you. But god, you could only handle so much. 

Your last meeting of the day was a departmental one with your whole team, Paul included. You sat as far away from him as you possibly could and avoided eye contact, though you could feel his, as well as everyone else's, on you. Your skin itched at the attention and you resisted the urge to tug at the collar of your blouse. It was made worse by Gretchen telling everyone how she was reassigning one of your favorite accounts to him, a comment about divvying up resources to improve work/life balance. She looked at you directly as she said it, and you didn’t miss the twitch of her lip as she fought off a self-satisfied smile. You have no doubt that it was a dig at how you had said you were overloaded. You tried not to regret standing up to her earlier in the week. 

It was the longest hour of the week so far, and when it was over, you were the first one out of your chair. You still had work to do, but after returning to your desk and sitting for almost an hour without accomplishing anything due to how utterly miserable you felt, you just…couldn’t. You kept your head down as you made your way to the elevators, only glancing up once you made it to the lobby. Instantly, your breath caught and your heart rate picked up. You didn’t see his face, but you knew it was Paul standing there, his back to you as he waited for one of the lifts. Before he could spot you, you escaped into the bathroom. You waited for five, and then ten minutes just to be safe. It was after 6:00 when you finally made it down to the parking lot and started toward home. 

You had gotten so overwhelmed the latter half of the day, the week catching up with you, that Bradley coming over had almost entirely left your mind. So when you pulled into your driveway and saw him sitting on your porch steps waiting for you, the first tear slipped. 

Bradley rose from the porch and was already walking toward you by the time you stepped out of the car. He gave you that devastating smile of his that you knew was reserved just for you, his eyes sparkling in the setting sun. 

“Hey you,” he greeted, “I was getting worried.” 

You realized then that you hadn’t even bothered checking your phone to see if he had texted or called you before you left the office, and another tear slipped down your cheek. 

The last thing you wanted was this: this whole situation having you so stressed that you forget him, or push him to the side. And that’s exactly what had happened today. That place, those people, they were ruining everything. And you were letting them. That, more than anything, upset you. 

“Sorry,” you choked out, your voice hitching as the word got stuck in your throat. Bradley’s smile faded at the same time he clocked the dampness on your cheek and heard your apology. His eyes widened as he quickened his stride to you. 

“Bug, what-” 

You gave him no warning before you closed the remaining distance. Your bag clattered to the ground as you slammed into him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you in return, holding you tightly against his body. Your face buried itself into his chest and your hands gripped the back of his shirt as you clung to him, and right there in your driveway, you finally let yourself cry. 

“Hey,” Bradley soothed, running a hand up and down your back, never easing his grip on you. “Hey, hey. Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” 

You shook your head, unable to find the words you were looking for. It was like all the stress from the week, the whispers and stares and rumors, hit you all at one time, and you couldn’t stop the tears now that they had started. They silently streamed down your cheeks as you let yourself find comfort in your boyfriend’s embrace, all the emotions slowly slipping out of you as he kept you locked in his arms. 

You could hear the concern in his voice as he repeated the question, and you felt so bad for making him worry.  

“Sorry,” you stammered, not pulling away. “I’m okay. Sorry.” You tried your best to take a breath, but it came out shaky. Your bottom lip quivered again, more tears spilling. 

“No, hey, it’s okay.” 

Bradley shushed you gently, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He stood there holding you, running a large palm up and down your spine, whispering in your ear that it was okay, and to let it out. He didn’t even know what was going on, yet he was an unmoving presence, offering you comfort with no expectations. 

When your tears finally dried and your crying transitioned into sniffling instead, you tilted your head back. Bradley moved with you, peering down with concern shining in his brown eyes. You tried to smile, but the most you could manage was a twitch of your lips. There was an urge to say I’m sorry again, which he must have read on your face. 

“Let’s get you inside,” he said, before the apology could leave your lips. He kissed your forehead, lingering for a moment. You felt him breathe in against your skin before pulling away. “Come on.” 

He scooped up your fallen belongings and guided you to the front door. He unlocked it himself with the keys he had picked up and let you go in before him. He didn’t stop touching you the whole time, his hand firmly on your lower back, and when he locked the door and set your stuff down on the entryway table, he didn’t hesitate to draw you back into his arms. You practically melted against him. The grip he had on you was the only thing keeping you upright, and for a few minutes, you just let yourself be. You felt lighter than you had in days and you knew it was because of him. 

Not for the first time, you wondered what you had done to possibly deserve him. 

Bradley didn’t rush you, but you eventually detached yourself from him. He squeezed your hips before he released you, encouraging you to go take a shower and put on something more comfortable. 

“I’ll order something,” he said when you started to make a comment about cooking for him. He stepped forward again and leant down for the first kiss you had shared since Sunday night. It was only a soft brush of lips, neither of you even attempting to deepen it, but it helped loosen the grip of the remaining anxiety around your throat. The smile you gave him before you walked toward your bedroom was one of the first genuine ones you had mustered all day. 

When you came back into the living room, there was food and wine on the coffee table, but no Bradley in sight. You didn’t have a chance to call out for him before your backdoor opened and he came through.

“I took your trash out,” he explained, a small frown on his face. “Did you know your backdoor was unlocked?” 

Your eyebrows pinched together at his question. You hadn’t known that. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had gone through it. 

“My landlord was supposed to come by and look at the bathroom window,” you said with a shrug, brushing it off even as your earlier anxiety threatened to come back. “He usually comes in through the back when I’m not here. He probably didn’t lock it on the way out. It wouldn’t be the first time, especially since sometimes it looks locked until you tug on it. It’s��quirky.” 

“It's sucky, is what it is,” Bradley said, his voice flatter than you had ever heard it. You couldn’t help but huff out a laugh as you agreed with him. “Will you call him tomorrow and make sure? Or I can, if you want?” 

“I will,” you promised, accepting the kiss he gave you. “Can we eat?” 

Once the pizza he ordered was finished and the glass of wine he had poured you emptied, you crawled onto his lap on the couch. He was warm and solid beneath you. 

“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked gently, his calloused fingers brushing your bare thigh. You nuzzled your face into his neck for a moment, inhaling the comforting smell of his skin and the remnants of his cologne. 

“Just got overwhelmed, I think,” you whispered. You kissed below his chin before lifting your head enough to meet his eyes. “I feel better now.” 

Bradley’s eyes studied you like he was trying to see if you were underplaying it, but you weren’t lying - you did feel better now. Maybe not 100%, but better. 

“Are you sure?” he finally asked. You nodded, but you told him about your day anyway, not wanting to keep him in the dark about anything. His jaw clenched when you mentioned one of the new rumors floating around today claiming that you had filed the complaint because you were jealous Paul turned you down when you asked him out. You pressed your lips to the spot where the muscles ticked until he relaxed. 

He looked like he was contemplating something by the time you finished your debrief. You waited him out with your fingers running through the soft curls on the top of his head; the motion was something that calmed both of you down. 

“You know I’ll take care of you, right?” he asked after a quiet moment, like he was still thinking over how best to say it. “If you wanted to quit now, or if-” 

You shifted so that instead of sitting across it, you were straddling his lap. You kissed him soundly in interruption, your skin warm beneath his hands where he cradled you against him. Your forehead laid against his when you pulled away, noses brushing and breaths mingling. 

“You already are,” you promised him, voice nothing higher than a whisper. You knew that he didn’t just mean emotionally, and he knew you knew that, too. But he didn’t call you out on it, instead trusting that you would come to him if you needed to. He trusted you, and that meant more than anything. Those words from before played on your tongue again, but you swallowed them back by kissing him once more. 

Now wasn’t the time for them, either. 

___

You and Bradley spent the weekend together, and just like the ones before, you’re able to forget about work and everything that came with it for the two full days in each other’s presence. When Sunday rolled around, this time you didn’t force yourself to leave when the sun went down. The almost hour drive to your office from Bradley’s apartment on Monday morning wasn’t ideal, but waking up tangled in his sheets with his arm wrapped around you had made it all worth it. 

The rumors slowed with the time off, but only marginally. You were still the punch line of several ill-intended jokes and you couldn’t go anywhere without feeling someone’s eyes on you. You lost count of how many raised eyebrows you saw before the person who sent them your way turned to whisper to whoever they were sitting beside. 

You wondered how these so-called professionals had nothing better to do with their time. But you also wondered, deep down, why no one believed you. That was one of the toughest pills to swallow.

You had taken to reserving one of the conference rooms during the day, hiding away in there with your laptop between meetings and only venturing back to your desk after the office emptied out in the evenings. By the end of the second week, you were exhausted all over again. 

You were lying stretched out on your couch with your feet in Bradley’s lap on Friday night when your phone buzzed with a new text message. You groaned out loud when you opened the group chat with your friend group. 

“Oh no.” 

Bradley tore his gaze away from the political documentary he had been zoned in for, looking over at you in question. “What’s wrong?” 

“I forgot about brunch.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Your monthly meetup?” 

Your face softened, warmth spreading through you at the fact that he remembered. You weren’t sure why you were surprised - he had proven time and time again that he remembered damn near anything. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed. 

He looked thoughtful for a moment, his fingers never ceasing from where they were pressing into the sore soles of your feet. You hadn’t even had to ask for him to rub them, and that in and of itself made pleasure shoot through you at his touch. 

“You usually love these things,” he said, not as a question, but simply as stating a fact. “You should go,” he encouraged.

You let the phone fall onto your chest without responding to the messages coming in. You did usually love these outings. You looked forward to them, even. But this time you were tired even at just the idea of it. Your friends tended to be a lot and you were already so overstimulated from the last two weeks of absolute hell at work. The thought of just you and Bradley in a bubble together for two straight days sounded so lovely. You shrugged in reply. 

“I don’t really want to go out,” you said, “it’s been a long few weeks.” 

“I know it has. But maybe seeing your friends could get your mind off of it?” 

“I know someone else who does a great job of that all on his own,” you said, digging your toes into his thigh playfully. He laughed softly, tickling you in retaliation. You squealed at the sensation, trying to get your legs away, but Bradley held onto you and continued his attack. You nearly had tears in your eyes from your laughter by the time he had mercy. He had ended up hovering over you, his arms bracketing you in and holding himself up to avoid crushing you. You let out a hum of pleasure when he kissed you, pouting when he pulled away after just a few seconds. His mustache twitched when he smiled. 

“I think you should go,” he told you. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to keep you all to myself. But I think it would be good. Catch up with your friends. Have a mimosa or two. Forget about all the shit going on for a while.” 

You considered his words for a moment. Truthfully, the thought of going out caused nervousness to thrum in your chest and your mind to race. It was easier being at home or at Bradley’s apartment. 

The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized that by letting that unnerving feeling win, you were letting him win. Paul. You hadn’t felt this kind of uncertainty of living your life until he came along, and that realization made you sad. You loved going out with your friends, and you hadn’t done it in awhile now. 

“You’re right,” you said. You leant up to press your lips to his again. “I’ll go.” 

It would be fun, and it was just brunch. What was the worst that could happen?

-------------

Part Eight :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: Famous words, Bug. Famous words.

I had a scowl on my face writing pretty much this whole chapter because people being mean to Bug make me angry. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! The next one is a goodie!

Likes/comments/reblogs are the best encouragement for posting more🖤

Thank you to Mak and Em for all of your help making this story come to life. And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

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[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my babies!!!! Holy fuck. Wow. I actually can't believe it. I may or not be crying a lil bit because here we are. Here is the final chapter of Smoke, Fire and Ash (besides the Epilogue that is coming tomorrow!). I really can't believe it. This has been such an insane journey to be on. I started writing this fic for my best friend, just emailing her updates, and then she convinced me to post online, so in January (thats how long this thing has been going lol) I started posting with you all!!!

I really cannot thank you guys enough for all the continuous love and support you have given me with this fic. All the memes and laughs and theories and messages, I have absolutely adored talking to you all and getting to share this with you! ARGHHH. I could say so much more, but I shant.... nay.... I wont. haha, so again, thank you all so much, and I hope that when the Epilogue is posted tomorrow, that we can all close this story together neatly! Can't wait to keep writing new stories for you all.

ENJOY! <3

FINAL CHAPTER 109: Through Smoke, Fire and Ash 

There was no singular way to describe how you were feeling. 

No singular way to explain the confusion of grief and both elation that swirled within you. You supposed, this was how Rhaenyra must have felt when she had her hasty coronation on Dragonstone. 

How does one see the light when they are shrouded in so much darkness? 

How is one supposed to smile through all the losses?

Because the shadows outweighed it all, much heavier than the Conquerors Crown you had worn, the weight of the world sitting atop your shoulders and spine, pushing down on your vertebrae with a force that could buckle your knees. One wrong shift and the fragility of your bones and muscle may cause it to crack, collapsing beneath you.

It had been days and yet, it still felt as though it was yesterday when you had driven your dagger into his neck. You could still feel the way it had felt when it pushed through his muscles and tendons, how his body had resisted it. How he had tensed beneath you jolting, how his eye had opened wide in pain and shock.

How he had looked at you.

How it had smelt, the iron of the blood on your hands, your body, in your hair.

All of it.

And at times, during those days that passed you, you would wake in a cold sweat, drenched in perspiration as you dreamt of doing it over and over. Dreamt of watching the light fade from his eyes. Dreamt of the smell, the blood.

And each time you would wake, tears falling down your cheeks and heart rattling against your ribs, your eyes would fall to your hands and a small cry of horror would leave your lips.

Each time, your hands were covered in his blood.

The first few nights that it happened, you would race to the basin beside the bed, desperate to wash the blood away, clawing at your skin with your nails as you scrubbed them raw, sobbing loudly in the chambers.

And each time, Ser Darke at your door would alert the Queen, and Rhaenyra would rush to your chambers in her nightgown, gripping your hands as they dripped with water, not blood, and would whisper to you that it was okay, that it was over, that you were clean.

Each time she would pull you away from the basin, hands raw and sometimes bleeding from your own nails, and would take you to bed, laying down first to clutch your head against her chest as she would hold you, and you would sob.

But after the eighth night of your new and horrifying routine, you woke and looked at your hands.

Blood again.

But this time you did not scream, this time you did not race to the basin to try and wash it away. This time you sat up against the back of the bed and stared at your hands until the sun had risen into the sky, and the maids came to get you ready for the day.

And it was much the same.

For many days after.

You would dine with your family, and there he would be, in the corner of your eye watching you.

Always watching you.

And each time that his shadow would catch your eye, you would know to not react when your eyes would catch glance of your hands, covered in his blood once more.

As though he was punishing you.

Your mother and father, if you suspected that she had told him, were the only ones to know about your crumbling stability. But as the days passed, and almost a moon had turned, it got better.

Easier.

You could now look at your hands without recoiling, and some nights you would not dream of him. Some nights you would not dream at all, and would sleep the entire night through.

And when you did wake up, the smell of blood beneath your nose, you would hold your stomach, the smallest of swells beginning to show, and soothe the skin with your palm, hushing the babe inside of you as you whispered to yourself that it was all okay.

But by the time the moon had turned, you had begun to make your peace with it. Begun to understand that this was your penance for such horrors. That this would be your atonement for what you had done.

A punishment that you would not deny.

This morning however, was different.

Today you would put on a brave face for the realm, not just for your family, who treated you with with such exceptional kindness and patience that it often brought you to tears.

Today the mask of impassivity, the mask of strength and triumph would be slipped over your face for all to see. As was your duty. As was always your duty.

Saria and Aella brushed their gentle hands into your hair as they braided it back against your skull in intricate twists and weaves that lifted it from the nape of your neck completely, whilst Joanna and Amala tended to tightening your gown at the back. 

Your reunion with your two maids had been a tearful event, but smiles were shared after all eyes were red and raw from broken sobs and shared stories, minor tales of survival.

You held your hands at your front, observing yourself in the vanity of your old chambers, unwilling to enter Aemond’s again, not knowing if the stench of blood and memory of the past would be the last thread to be pulled, and your crumbling resolve would snap, and you would be lost to madness like Helaena had been, the weight of it all sinking you into the ground.

The necklace in your hands had warmed in your palms and fingertips, as you pressed the pad of your thumb into the chain, feeling each ridge of the Valyrian steel beneath it, using it to ground you, attempting to count each notch in the chain to help quell the rising tide within.

When Saria and Aella finished their braiding, they moved to place the headpiece atop your hair.

It had been old, far older than you or your parents.

The Valyrian steel had been a relic, a thick band that wrapped around your skull like a crown, that then had four similar bands that smoothed over the top of your scalp, meeting at the top of your head. 

Pressed into the Valyrian steel were round and square cut rubies, and dragon glass all the way along its surface, glimmering in the light, with small coils of gold that were nestled between each jewell. Three emeralds were newly laid amongst the rest, one at each point at your temple, and the last at the back of your head.

It was not heavy like the Conquerors Crown, but it had a weight to it, pressing down onto your head as the girls adjusted it to fit. Adjusted it to look weightless. But there was the invisible weight of it too, and that squeezed at your ribs causing you to be breathless. 

Saria moved to stand in front of you, looking at the chain that you held in your palm.

“Your Grace, might I?” She asked, a hand reaching out to offer to put the necklace on.

You nodded at her and gave her a small, yet stiff smile as she took it from your grasp, watching yourself in the mirror as she came to move behind you, hands fiddling with the clasp as she draped it across your neck. 

The gown you wore was the last piece Aemond had made for you, and one you had not worn yet. But today you would. Today you would carry him with you as you took yourself down to the throne room. 

It was a deep red, almost the colour of blood when it would begin to dry, with gold and black dragons and flames embroidered at the cuffs of your wrists, making their way up your forearm. The bodice of the dress was tight, and in its centre, a gold, beaded dragon, marked with black shivering beads that looked like scales.

A homage to the first dragon you had claimed, and lost. 

From each shoulder, sat a large golden clasp, holding a set of three chains that hung across the neck. But they were not usual chains, instead, they were made to look like stems from a rose bush, pointed thorns all around its length, sharp and menacing.

Placed atop the gown by the help of Joanna and Amala sat the black and gold cloak your mother had worn many years ago for her coronation. It still smelt of her.

Saria finished clasping the necklace at the back of your neck, and stepped back, all the maids looking over you one last time to ensure that you were perfect.

They deduced that you were.

From behind you in the mirror, you could see the figure of Jacaerys as he entered your chambers, adorned in a vision of red and black, the colours of your House.

You spun to look at him, his eyes roaming over your body with the softest of smiles on his lips. His hair had been brushed back and away from his face, curly brown locks tucked behind his ears by small falling braids, gold clasps at their ends to hold them together.

“You were born for this.” He whispered, stepping towards you to take your hands in his, “Are you ready?” His thumbs brushed against your knuckles softly as he watched you.

You swallowed. 

Were you ready?

Would you ever be?

No.

But you had to be.

“Yes.” You lied.

His large calloused hand moved to cup your face before pressing a kiss to your cheek lovingly, a habit that he had inherited from your mother, and something that he no doubt pressed against Baela’s furrowed brows and cheeks when needed.

Jacaerys' gaze dropped to your neck, and then back to your face as he blinked but said nothing, instead offering an arm to you to walk down together.

Resting against your neck, warmed by gentle hands that had held it, atop the cloak for all to see, was the necklace that Aemond had given Alys. 

That your mother and father had then given to you. 

And which you had plucked the emeralds from, not wishing to wear them around your neck, instead placing them within the piece that sat atop your head. A reminder.

At the centre of the Valyrian steel, the chain flush against you, was a steel dragons claw that hung from its centre, and in its grip a large spherical sapphire. 

Taken from the ashes, as a reminder, as a lasting piece that you could have and hold.

The last piece of him.

Aemond’s eye.

"Shall we?”

You looped your arm in his and made your way down to the Iron Throne chambers together. Always together. Through thick and through thin, you shared the blood of Old Valyria, and the both of you had shared a womb, nothing could seperate you. 

Your hand pressed against your necklace as you walked, feeling the weight of it with every step. Feeling his presence despite not being visible to your eye.

It helped to calm you strangely, helped to give you strength, to give you some sort of hope and feel as though he approved. You hoped that he would. You thought that he would.

He would.

In no time at all, you stood before the two large doors at the entrance to the Iron Throne. Jacaerys stilled, unlinking his arm from yours as he brushed his sweaty palms against his robes. Another habit the two of you shared.

You frowned at him, worry beginning to burrow itself in your chest. You stepped forward to cup his face in both hands, “Do you hate me? For what I am about to do?”

Jacaerys' lips pulled into a lopsided grin, hands coming to grasp yours, “I could never, not now, or in any other lifetime, come to hate you. You are my sister, and I have always held firmly in my beliefs that it should be you to sit the Iron Throne. How could I hate you for taking something that was never to be mine?”

You felt your eyes well with tears, relief pouring from you.

Jacaerys shook his head softly as he chuckled, towering over you, “Don’t cry. You’ll look a mess.”

A laugh bubbled up your throat and you tapped his cheek lightly.

“They’re waiting for me. Actually, waiting for you.” He breathed, stepping back, looking at you one last time as his fingers brushed the necklace, touching the orb that sat against your chest.

Jacaerys breathed deeply as he looked at it, gnawing at it his lip as he held it softly.

You watched his face as he thought for a moment, eyebrows twitching, but then breathed his thought aloud.

"He would be proud.”

You could tell it had taken a lot of Jacaerys to say that.

And yet he did.

You blanched, and the tears that you had tried to hold at bay trickled down your cheeks, hot trails dripping down onto the stones below. 

Jacaerys frowned, head dipping down to your level, “Please don’t cry. Mother will have my head.”

You chuckled wiping the tears away with the back of your hand.

“Away with you then, the sight of you brings me to tears.” You half laughed and half sobbed.

Your brother swiped up a stray tear that had escaped your eyes before he gave a deep and mocking curtsey to you, his curly brown hair flopping against the sides of his face, “At once, Your Grace.” And with that, Jacaerys slinked into the chambers, announced loudly by Ser Erryk inside. 

The doors shut behind him as you heard the crowd inside slowly quieten. You straightened your posture, heart beating against your chest with every breath.

But there would be no waiting, nor halting of what was to come. No moment of stilling for just a breath more to catch your bearings. Because if life had taught you anything, it was that the world does not slow for anyone, and it shall continue to move forward without you, even if you are trapped in the past. 

And so forward, you went.

The doors were pulled open, and you felt each and every eye in the throne room turn to you. All Lords and Ladies from across the realm, Heads of their Houses and knights, watching as you made your way towards them. But your eyes were solely on your parents. 

Queen Rhaenyra was seated upon the Iron Throne, dressed head to toe in black and red, gold crown of her father, the crown of King Jaehaerys before him, seated atop her skull and pride in her eyes. 

Your father, King Consort Daemon Targaryen, stood at the bottom of the throne, hands in front of him as he grinned ear to ear, watching as you descended the stairs and walked towards them.

Atop his head, the Conquerors Crown.

Just as you had told him to wear.

‘This is yours now.’ You had told him, and he had argued, but you had insisted, ‘Return it to me when I sit the Throne.'

“Princess Y/n Velaryon, First of her Name, Daughter of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.” Ser Erryk’s voice boomed into the chambers, and you had to suck in a stiffening breath as you felt pangs of fear wind through you. 

It was almost like the days you had been brought before Aegon, the strange feeling of remembrance racing through you icily. Remembering how it had felt to be presented to this throne twice before.

But it wasn’t the same. 

There was no danger here, only love, and care, and trust. But this did not stop your mind from racing, or your heart from jumping in your chest as you stood before your mother, looking up at her.

Rhaenyra looked out at the sea of Lord and Ladies who stood in the Hall, all having travelled from their lands to come to the Red Keep for you.

All who had sworn themselves to her. 

All who were willing to do it all again. 

“Let all who stand here today, who have travelled across the Seven Kingdoms, who have sailed the seas and ridden to Kings Landing,” Her voice boomed across the room, steady and even, “Bear witness to the naming of Princess Y/n Velaryon as my successor for the Iron Throne.”

You smiled softly at your father before turning around to face the room, looking out at all who stood present, and had come to declare for your mother. 

For you. 

Some faces you recognised, others you did not. House sigils were pressed or stitched into robes and cloaks or armour, House colours adorned on shoulders and skirts. Men and woman of all kinds filled the chambers of the Iron Throne ready to swear their fealty.

Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys were the eyes you found first, standing at the front with your half sister Princess Rhaena beside them. All had their heads towards you, Rhaena grinning widely, whilst Rhaenys dipped hers in a subtle nod, the tiniest of smiles on her lips. 

Lord Corlys however, did not smile, nor nod, but looked at you in appraisal. In pride. He had always treated you as his granddaughter, and despite you knowing the truth about Laenor, it did not take away that he had been a father to you, and Corlys, a grandfather.

At the sides of the chambers, your brothers stood and watched, and it took everything within you to not cry as one head of brown was missing. 

You swallowed thickly as Rhaenyra continued.

“Your loyalty to the true heir of the Iron Throne has not been forgotten. Your sacrifices to regain the throne are not forgotten. All Lords and Ladies who stand before the throne today have shown their loyalty, bravery, and defiance in the face of turncloaks and usurpers. Have shown support of my cause, and my claim as the rightful heir and ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. So today,” She breathed behind you, “I, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, ask that you to do so again. Pledge fealty to the throne and its rightful heir before the Old Gods and the New. Promise your faith, and know that if it is broken, there will be no mercy given to those who go against it.”

You breathed again, feeling your hands begin to sweat. 

This was all you had ever wanted. 

This was all that you had ever dreamed of. 

But there was so much missing from it.

So many missing.

It was a dream that you had thought was lost. Gone with the marriage, gone with Lucerys. Gone to Jacaerys. Gone with the war. 

But here you were, before the eyes of the Heads of the realms Houses, having your succession be named before the Gods, and their fealty sworn to you.

“Step forth now, and make the pledge.”

The first to move, was the silver locks of Lord Corlys Velaryon. He moved with no hesitancy, with a speed that had rivalled all others, moving to stand before you, slowly lowering himself to his knee as he bowed his head. 

Ser Erryk announced him to all present, “Lord Corlys, of House Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark.”

Corlys lifted his head to look at you, his deep voice moving through the chambers, “I, Lord Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, promise to be faithful to Queen Rhaenyra and her named heir, the Princess Y/n. I pledge fealty to them, and shall defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit. I swear this by the Old Gods and New.” The Lord stood, moving back to his wife and granddaughter, where he kept his eyes upon you, a small nod tipped towards you and the throne. 

Warmth bloomed in your chest as you smiled at him softly. He was still, in your eyes, your grandfather.

The elder Lord Staunton was next, stepping forward to the middle of the aisle of people, bending his knee down slowly until it rested against the stones, bowing his head.

“Lord Simon Staunton, Lord of Rooks Nest, and Head of House Staunton.”

“I, Lord Simon Staunton, Lord of Rooks Nest and Head of House Staunton, promise to be faithful to Queen Rhaenyra and her named heir, the Princess Y/n. I pledge fealty to them, and shall defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit. I swear this by the Old Gods and New.”

Lord after Lord, Lady after Lady, Heads of Houses, young and old, stepped forth to kneel before you and pledge their allegiance and fealty to you, naming you as the successor to the Iron Throne.

All you could do was stand and watch, pride and vindication blooming in your chest warmly.

The last man stepped forward, but his robes were far different to those who stood amongst the rest. You watched in interest as he bent his knee.

He would be no older than Aemond had been. His hair was a dark brown, long and pulled away from his face by a clasp at the back of his head. 

As he bowed to you, Ser Erryk Cargyll announced him to the throne room, voice loud behind you, icy grey eyes lifting to meet yours.

“Lord Cregan Stark, Wolf and King of the North, Lord of Winterfell and Head of House Stark.”

Lord Cregan Stark had a long face, not in the way that Aemond had, but Cregan’s thicker, and fuller. Cheeks wider and more muscular, and lips that were dutifully kept still. Furs lined the neck of his robes, and large silver wolf heads clasped it together in a chain at the front.

“I, Lord Cregan Stark, Wolf and King of the North, Lord of Winterfell and Head of House Stark,” His was voice was deep and smooth, his accent lilting upon every word he spoke, “Promise to be faithful to Queen Rhaenyra and her named heir, the Princess Y/n. I pledge fealty to them, and shall defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit. I swear this by the Old Gods and New.”

The entire time he spoke, he kept his eyes on you. 

You blinked as he stood, towering taller than most men in the room, and watched as he moved back to his place, feeling a pull towards him in your chest. 

There was no denying that he was handsome, a certain roguishness to him that only men in the North had. His shoulders were broad, and he looked to be a seasoned swordsman with large hands that he clasped at his front.

He did not smirk at you as Aemond would have when he caught you staring, and instead bowed his head out of curtesy and respect. 

You swallowed and looked away, turning to finally face your mother, who sat upon the throne, crown atop her silver hair, and large blade at her side, hand rested on top of the hilt. She looked down at you with bright and violet eyes.

You bowed your head to her, momentarily looking down at the stones, where stains of red sat beneath your feet. 

It was clear there had been an attempt to scrub it free, but the blood of Aegon Targaryen had sat at the foot of the throne for too long, and its viscousness had sunk deep into the porous stone.

When you lifted your eyes back to your mother Rhaenyra, she stood, looking out at all those present. All who had stayed loyal, all who had sworn their loyalty again. To the Houses that had sacrificed men in the battle for the throne, a mere moon before. To the Houses who had stayed true to their loyalty. 

And then, to you. 

To the one person who had made it happen. To the one person who ensured her seat. Months in waiting, months of torture and depravity. Months of sheer will to complete what she had started.

The realm knew you as many things.

The People’s Princess. The Bastard Princess. Survivor at Storms End. The Merciless. The Realms Despair. The Kinslayer. The Claimer of Two. King Maker. Queen Consort. Wife to the One-Eyed King. The Broken Queen. 

King Slayer. 

Queen Maker. 

And a Queen for a Day.

But now you would be known as something that was rightfully, birthright and earned, yours. 

“I, Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Roynar, and The First men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby name, Y/n Velaryon, Princess of the Realm, the Heir to the Iron Throne.”

Heir to the Iron Throne.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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Bold is who I cannot tag!

[creehd]

SURPRISE!! its me again, ive moved into your walls.

Now... *flips through notes* You said Shredder is a Yakuza boss, which is just a delectable choice, and i shant ever get over it--

--BUUUUUT because hes Yakuza, does that mean hes...covered in tattoos? 👁👁

I meeean, i can kinda see some tattoos in the reference you drew for him, but i think we might need a shirtless reference, fOR SCIENTIFIC REASONS OF COURSEEEEE, absolutely no other reason.

I definitely dont wanna just see that buff man shirtless hahah nooooo *heavy breathing*

BUT ON A NOT SIMPING NOTE--

What is the Turtle's living situation like??? Is it still in the sewers? Do Casey and April visit them there? How different is their home in the AU compared to the modern depictions? I cant imagine sewers in the 20's were to much different than sewers now, but im still very curious :]

Sorry for the never ending questions skajsksks

YES shredder does have tattoos! Alot of em are traditional Japanese dragon design ones, I will map out what his chest and back tats look like don't you worry-

AS FOR THE SEWER QUESTION IM GLAD YOU ASKEDDD I made the entire turtle lair in the sims bc of this ask SO here we are,

The entrance to the sewers is pretty basic, shoot off to 6 open rooms,

Splinters room!! He's a pretty solitary guy so he has a place for meditation and a cozy lil chair he falls asleep in constantly.

Here's the rec room/kitchen, Lotta areas for food making and eating, and a piano Mikey plays every now and again for everyone! They also have a dinky little TV set donnie managed to snag. (Infront the couch)

The dojo!! Pretty basic, this is where the boys do their training!

The bathroom/storage! Very rustic and stolen and or built by Donatello. Lotta extra stuff splinter brought over from japan and misc living stuff for the family.

Now for the boys rooms!!!

Leo and Donatello share a room, leo keeps model trains and tons of books donnie can't house on his side, he's also got several Japanese tapestries to keep in touch with his heritage. He also has alot of art deco posters, he enjoys the colors and movement of them. He also keeps track of scout badges he's collected, because while be can't BE a boyscout, he loves the idea of scouting and following that code of values.

Donnies side is much more technical. He tinkers and builds things while listening to the radio, he'll turn it on for both him and Leo while they do respective activities. He also has Japanese tapestries, mostly because when the boys were small splinter got them each their own, and he never took it down. He's got tons of books and maps, and more physics leaning posters.

On the other side of the sewer, Raphel and Mikey share a room, in the middle they have a Foosball table they both enjoy from time to time, but on raphs side, he's got a punching bag (go figure) and a stereo radio phonograph, along with a chest of his things, his favorite stuffed toy, some art deco posters and a painting Mikey made him, along with a portrait of Casey, and a cow skull. He's taken the tapestry splinter gave him down. Says it clashes with the rest.

And last but not least! Mikey has the brightest part of the sewer, he enjoys plants, and taking care of them, he says they add life to the home. Along with several paintings he's done and art deco posters he enjoys! He's got a desk for Journaling and an easel for his portraits. He's also got his Japanese tapestry hung, it gives him inspiration.

All and all, not too different from their modern counterparts! I tried to make my little diorama art project as time period accurate as I could, for the sims yknow, but I think I did a pretty good job expressing my vision (although there was a sewer grate I COULD NOT find for the life of me so I just pretended don't look at it too hard)

April and casey visit on occasion, after all the portrait of Casey was painted by mikey!! Raph just felt... sentimental about keeping it. April visits less, due to grime, but she cares about her friends and can look past it after a good shower.

AND DONT YOU WORRY- I'll make a shredder tattoo masterpost, he's not covered head to toe, but he's pretty well inked up..

I had fun working on this alot tho!! Never apologize ur giving me an excuse to post about my brain worms

Questions or suggestions??? ASK BOX IS OPENNNNN ASK ME ABOUT MY 20S AU

[mojaves]

mistake, nightmare and secret for alex!!

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

jumping off what i said here, where he died with his family not knowing who he is, and completely forgetting about him [which. the forgetting is also related to in-world lore but i shant go into that until ive figured more details out. anyway]. THATS the biggest mistake he ever made. and it's not like he can just go back home and be like Haha sorry about how i acted! Do You Still Love Me. when we're introduced to him in the story, he's been dead/missing for 20+ years. he can't go back. he can't reconnect with his family. there's nothing to fix. he ruined that chance the second he went into that lake. has he moved on? of course not!!! will he?? entirely depends on how much he's willing to actually let people in this time round. he's got a second chance, and for a good while, he's not making the most of it. if anything he's going Backwards. and he has to live with that knowledge!!! haha [:

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

before he died, he would've had a lot of nightmares growing up about drowning, or just losing his mind and wiping out his whole family and then himself, or just. simply just being watched by a woman who feels so Oddly Familiar to him but he cant quite figure out who it is. and while the others were distressing enough, that one was always the worst. because she would just stand there. and alex would be screaming and crying for help and trying to reach out to her, but just. could never get her attention. and that feeling would stick with him for So long throughout his life. much like all his other issues. he keeps those ones Locked Away too. no one knew he had horrible nightmares, night terrors, sleep paralysis, insomnia, etc etc. plagued by it every night!!! and he just. never ever got the help he needed.

now every day is essentially just a waking nightmare for him. he's in a world he no longer understands. it's significantly harder for him to blend in. he has to face the consequences of his actions every waking moment of every day. he's not doing great!

secret answered in the ask i linked earlier! [:

[sprintingnight]

fake asota d&d post simulator

🐈 bloomingflowers Follow

yeah okay i feel like everyone's overreacting over the blood in the hallways. missing students aren't exactly a problem, people drop out of school all the time. it's literally not a big deal

🎵 snakefreak Follow

didn't you get a callout post a few months ago for getting caught eating a human arm in the girls bathroom

🎵 snakefreak Follow

whof the fuck is knoucking at my dorm room entrance in the middle of the night .

427 notes

🐕 chickengirl Follow

excuse my language but i don't know how the FUCK to get out of this ice maze???????? any experts know what to do when your head starts spinning and you cant see right??? i think the reflections did some shit to me

⚔️ knightonpatrol23 Follow

op have you considered looking up the effects of low iron

🐕 chickengirl Follow

hold on i will in a second there's this weird crunching noise in the room ahead

🐕 chickengirl Follow

by the blight and the bane this can't be happening

#THE FUCKING MAYOR??? #hen.txt

2,674 notes

☘️ liadons Follow

does anyone know the best fertilizer for my venus flytrap? im not too sure how to keep its roots healthy while also giving it the flies it needs.

🐈 bloomingflowers Follow

where is my rock rael

☘️ liadons Follow

what the fuck? how did you find my tumblr?

🐈 bloomingflowers Follow

give it to me rael

🐈 notheath Follow

give it to me rael

☘️ liadons Follow

please stop harassing me. this prank isn't funny. im going to report you to staff.

🐈 notheath Follow

how resistant are you to fire attacks

23 notes

☀️ evvyblackbloom Follow

Hello, students of Alamaz. I know we're concerned about the rampant disappearances, and reports of some of our students coming back to school covered in blood, but there's absolutely nothing to worry about. Please remain calm during your stay here and make sure to lock your dorm rooms if you feel the need to.

☘️ liadons Follow

hey op arent you the one with the corpse pile in her basement

☀️ evvyblackbloom Follow

i have access to your student files, home address, family information, and authority over your brother, rael liadon

☘️ liadons Follow

EXCUSE ME

5,972 notes

🐈 bloomingflowers Follow

hey guys sorry abt the absence i was in jail for a bit :/

📚 bookworm87 Follow

how the fuck do you land yourself in jail????? arent you like. your bio says youre 16, what the hell did you do?

☘️ liadons Follow

dont ask stupid questions

🐕 chickengirl Follow

dont ask stupid questions

🎵 snakefreak Follow

dont ask stupid questions

#eboblogs #i hope nobody notices when bookworm87 mysteriously stops posting

50 notes

🐕 chickengirl Follow

that girl down by the interrogation station was pretty nice, i wonder if i can get in contact with her again :)

🐈 bloomingflowers Follow

:/

🎵 snakefreak Follow

im sorry catboy did you think i was the only one to get my crush swept away by some fucking golden retriever girl. the reckoning is upon you and if you think youll be spared its not going to happen.

🐕 chickengirl Follow

please get off my post

#hen.txt #i swear i need to like block these two off my blog or something #every time there's a blow up in my notifs #it's always them.

5 notes

☀️ evvyblackbloom Follow

im so hungry i could eat a

☀️ evvyblackbloom Follow

well

☀️ evvyblackbloom Follow

i shant say

📚 studentswag Follow

um. my classmate went missing about an hour or two before this was posted

#....this cannot be connected i think im going insane

563 notes

📚 studentswag Follow

alright this needs to be settled

#if youre already initiated you cant vote #your bias will show lmao #looking at a certain student whos name starts with d #and ends with aemus

7,836 notes

🌕 mooncrying Follow

i miss my home so fucking much. why couldnt things have stayed the same? why couldnt i be happy? it cant end like this for me.

🐈 bloomingflowers Follow

have you considered getting used to it

🌕 mooncrying Follow

I WATCHED YOU KILL MY DAD

#im so FUCKING SICK OF TABAXI!!!!!!!!! #ESPECIALLY THIS ONE!! #why are we giving heath a platform like #i know its "funny" to "observe him in his enclosure" #but hes gone TOO FAR!!

30 notes

[elleaitch22]

The Nanny

Chapter 2

A/N: It’s not as long as I wanted it to be, but we finally meet Shuri!

I hope you enjoy! 🤎 Elle

“Aneka, are there any new updates with our cybersecurity?” Shuri questioned, leaning back in her chair.

Aneka shook her head before speaking up, “No, Panther. There are no threats that have come up.”

“Well then,” Shuri began with a nod, “You all are dismissed. Remember to consult with a Dora if you have any concerns.”

Almost 200 people left the meeting room; all who were left were Aneka, Ayo, Okoye, and Shuri.

“Panther, we have found someone to care for the children as Aneka works.” Ayo stated.

Shuri didn’t reply until the door had shut. “For Bast’s sake Ayo. Enough with the formalities.” She rolled her eyes. “Who is it? Someone in the Tribe already?”

“Ah no. Shuri you know I don’t want those people around my children. Too serious. They would never have fun.” Aneka Buhle was known for her playfulness; it was one of the things Ayo loved most about her. For most involved in the Golden Tribe, the life had turned them cold and stoic. Aneka challenges that fact.

“Her name is Rianna Williams. She is from chicago, and she recently moved here from Boston.” Ayo paused. “She came from MIT.” She finished quietly.

It was no secret that Shuri’s first love was science. It was also common knowledge that she had wanted to go to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology since she learned of its existence. She was even set to go there 18 months ago, then Val and her crew swooped in and ruined everything.

Shuri scoffed lowly, “You trust her with the kids? She clearly isn’t too bright if she left MIT willingly.”

Aneka scowled. “I did a full background check. Her parents are dead and her sister won’t speak to her. I doubt she wanted to get into hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt just to become an engineer. Her test scores in high school rivaled yours.”

A few minutes away, Riri was preparing clam chowder for the kids before she got them up from their naps, texting while she waited for the milk to heat up.

Peter Piper: are u sure u dont wanna come back? i’m sure i could sneak u in.

Robyn Rihanna: I’m sure. I just got a new job with this new family. They seem nice, and if it works out, I’ll be back in the fall :)

Peter Piper: ok. he who shant be named stopped by again. I told him i had no clue where u went.

Robyn Rihanna: TYSM!!!!! Please keep it that way. I’ll book you a flight for spring break. Orphans Club Assemble

If there was one thing Riri missed about MIT, it was Peter. He was her only real friend, and they were able to relate to losing all of their loved ones before they were of age. He was her best friend, always looking out for her and stepping in whenever Jacob was disrespectful.

Jacob Michaels was one of the worst people on campus, but he was smooth and rich. Riri played right into his webs. They had moved in together within months, and that was when the real manipulation started.

The relationship was awful and half the reason Riri left Cambridge so quickly.

Peter Piper: See u in 2 months!!!

Riri threw the rest of the dish together quickly, plating the meal as the door opened.

She looked up with a bright smile on her face, before it was wiped off. “Who the hell are you?”

The woman before her was striking. She wore a black suit with pristine loafers. The matching shirt had the first few buttons undone. There was a gold necklace hanging in the opening, and the jewelry was layered with a thin gold chain. And her face. Jesus. She was gorgeous.

The woman smirked, looking Riri up and down before she went to move.

“Wait.” Riri started, holding her hand out while she tried to figure out how to protect the kids. “How did you get in here? Where’s Nosipho? What’d you do to her?”

The woman didn’t answer, just took a step closer to Riri. The tiny girl threw a punch, one that was swiftly caught.

“I don’t like being hit.” The sexy woman answered. She has the same accent as Ayo and Aneka.

Riri scoffed as she swung her other fist. “I don’t like strangers showing up at my job. Speak.” She gritted.

“You’re so cute.” Sexy woman started, “If Ayo and Aneka had told me, I would have introduced myself earlier.” She said, releasing Riri’s wrists. “I am Shuri Udaku, Ayo and Aneka’s boss.” She extended her hand.

Riri rolled her eyes and huffed. “You couldn’t have said that earlier? Smirking and staying quiet like you were about to kill us.”

“SHURI! Don’t scare the girl off! She’s the only one I’ve liked!” Aneka’s voice came from behind Shuri.

Shuri was the one who rolled her eyes, turning towards the couple. “Relax Neka. I was just introducing myself to Ms. Williams.”

“I didn’t tell you my name.” Riri glared at her back.

“I make it a point to know everyone who is around my family.” Shuri replied.

Before Riri could get a word out, Ayo spoke. “Riri, you are not needed for the rest of the day. Feel free to take advantage of the amenities here.”

The two walked out together, and Shuri smirked at Aneka. “You didn’t tell me your new nanny looked like that.”

“Aye Shuri. You were just calling her stupid, and now you want her? Absolutely not. If she ends up hating you, she’ll quit, and I’ll have to stop working.”

“You’re being dramatic, Aneka.” Shuri whined.

Aneka tilted her head at the bullshit coming out of her friend’s mouth. “If you wish to be with Ms. Williams, you’ll need to court her, properly. From my research, I know that she’s been through a great deal already. Do not make this worse for her.”

Shuri stayed in the foyer while Aneka left to get her children. Shuri would woo the girl, make her unable to resist her advances. Rianna Maree Williams would be Shuri’s if it was the last thing she did.

Tag list (no clue if I did this right)

@mal-urameshi @karimwillia @shuriris-stuff

[chefwhatnot]

My phone died before I could react, and I passed out at my hotel but HOLY SHIT????? PART 2 OF ASSAULT ON DELVERHAUGH????????, YOOOOOO???????

THAT WAS..... *SCREAMING*!!!!!!!!!!

The dynamic between Ash and Goddric continued to be the best part of the whole thing, throughout!!! My favorite bit was probably when Goddric essentially was like "I don't have enough money for chicken nuggets :(" . Goddric is such a good fucking character, and I like that he got to properly stand up for himself and especially Ash this chapter!!! He's so good, a perfect cinnamon roll, as the tumblr kids say.

BUT THE REVEAL!!!! THE REVEAL!!!!! I SHANT EVEN GO INTO SPECIFICS, BUT I ABSOLUTELY LOST MY SHIT AT THE REVEAL AND I DON'T WANT TO SPOIL IT FOT ANYONE!!!!!! IF ANYONE READS THIS ASK ON THEIR DASH, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ ASSAULT ON DELVERHAUGH!!!!!!!!!!!! *MORE SCREAMING*

Hey I’m so very glad you liked it! I think I’ve said this before but I got very unexpectedly attached to both of these goobers and had a very fun time writing them. Goddric is the first himbo I’ve written and based on peoples’ responses, I did a good job.

On the note of The Reveal, I’ll try and keep it vague for people who haven’t read it, but it was something I had headcanoned since Wilds of Eldraine first came out, and I of course could not write about Ash without cramming it in there. I do plan on writing a closer recounting of the events referenced in The Reveal as part of my series of WOE side stories.

That may take a while though, as I plan on focusing on Steel and Oil for now. Stay tuned for whenever that comes out, you filthy animals. Once again, thank you for the kind words!

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober day 13:

"It comes and goes like the strength in your bones." 

Cold compress | infection | "I Don't Feel So Good."

Fandom: Avengers

Prompts used: All

So while I ignore most of the MCU after certain events we shant name, I saw this quote and was like, yeah I can't not. So it has nothing to do with the later movies, its its own timelined thing (obv) and based more off fanfictions I like to read (fix its) than anything. So, please take things in stride. It's sort and basically a sick fic.    ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

….

When the world looks at Tony Stark, they see a spoiled rich boy. 

And it's what Tony wants them to see of course. The Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist. Even Iron Man, the Super Hero he created, has so much speculation because he pilots the armor. Like Tony Stark could never truly be a hero… but he'd been there all his life. No matter how many things he creates to better the world and the people who live in it, he will always be… 

But it's fine. Those who took the time to see past everything, who peeled his layers and stayed long enough to witness what he'd never outright say, they knew who Tony was. And while they were few and far between, Tony knew he was lucky to have any at all. 

So being in a complex, surrounded by stubborn idiots who were not quite in that category yet- or ever with how things were going, but Iron Man could have teammates without having true friends, so long as the world got saved in the end- was quite the task for Tony to handle. And today, that meant a bunch of stubborn idiot heroes who refused to admit they were in fact sick. 

Strange and Loki had assured them- and really it was just Tony, everyone else had been focusing fully on staying upright- that they would find the cure to whatever magical mischief their most recent adversary had cast on them. The two had not been spared so to speak, but they hadn't received the brunt of the attack and were ridiculously stubborn- that's gonna be Tonys word of the day, get over it. So with a fiery look of competition passed between them, Loki and Strange went their separate ways to see who could cure them all first, leaving the rest of them to fend for themselves. 

As anyone could guess, in the ever growing list of assumptions about Stark, there was the assumption he was a needy whiny clingy sick person. Where anyone got that he couldn't tell you, he was tactile and often refused any form of contact from people he didn't fully trust. But as it was, the world saw what they wanted, which included the added fact that surely a spoiled rich boy would know next to nothing on how to care for others when they're sick. 

Which. Rude. 

Tony might not have received the care a child should have, but Jarvis and Ana had tried their best where his parents didn't. And despite popular opinions, Tony did in fact care about people. So with a delirious team, Tony ignored the ache in his chest- when did he ever not?- and readied himself for his hardest task yet. 

He turns, finding them all still staring at where the two magicians had been with squinted eyes, and sighs. 

"JARVIS, lockdown as secretly as possible please. I need these guys contained until this is over." He's glad for his earpiece, talking practically under his breath, to keep the gathered heroes from hearing his order. "And some scans would be great, need to know what i'm working with." 

"Of course, sir." 

"You know Cap, I'm just exhausted, can we do our briefing in the living room?" Tony bats his eyes as if the Soldier can actually comprehend it. 

"Uh," his voice is raspy and he coughs like a dying frog, "sure. Living room…" 

It gets everyone moving, however unsteady it is, Tony brushes from one to another for every sway that's a little too far, keeping everyone on their feet until they can crash onto the nearest soft surface. Or the floor as Bruce so elegantly flops. Shaking his head, he makes his way around, almost too easily removing shoes and draping blankets. He's beginning to think this may be easier than he thought-

Bruce sneezes, tints green and grows several sizes, breaking the table behind him, before sniffing and returning to a slightly paler version of himself. 

"Bless you." Steve mutters, arm thrown over his eyes as his open mouth breathing wheezes in and out of his chest. 

Natasha grumbles, burrowed into Hawkeyes side, face ashen and eyes squeezed closed, she shivers and shifts closer to the archer. Clint, to his credit, does not push her away, despite the sweat clinging to him and red tint to his cheeks. 

Thor is completely out, mouth open wide as he snores around a congested nose. He- like his brother and Strange- was better off, but for a guy who'd never had an Earth sickness- if any, Tony wouldn't know- itd be best to watch him too. If Bruce was breaking things, Thor would too no doubt.

"JARVIS, lower the lighting level a bit, and play something quiet on TV, I'm gonna make some soup." He supposed he should just be glad it wasn't every Avenger, but it was going to be a long day.

He rubs at his chest, joints protesting his movements, and clears his throat to avoid coughing. 

He could do this…

"Steve, I swear to all things, if you do not stop I will have Hulk sit on you."

He shifts the bowl of cool water so he can use a finger to push Cap back down on the couch turned bed. The super soldier goes down with little actual resistance, despite the fact he looks like he very much wants to resist. He's had to force most of them to sit still at least once, Natasha was fine so long as she was against someone warm, Clint wouldn't move if Natasha was resting on him, but had tried to fly when she'd curled into Steve. Bruce's brain still had a million tabs open, but he was also a little worried about the Hulk. The Hulk for his part, was miserable too and just wanted to watch TV one way or another so Tony was less worried about him than Bruce despite the broken table he'd had to clean up. And Thor had also tried to fly, but smacked himself in the face with Mjolnir and promptly fallen into a side table to take another nap… hopefully.

Once he's sure Steve is down for awhile longer, he goes back to his task of pressing cold compresses to heated heads. His hands shake more than usual, but like everything else, he ignores it as he dodges a smack from the red head before pressing the cloth to her neck and tucking the blankets in tighter to appease her. 

Task accomplished, he turns to check on the soup when a whimper- high and sudden- hits his ears. He turns- a little too fast, his head spins with the motion- to find Hawkeye sitting up, one hand on his stomach, the other over his mouth, and wide eyes looking up at Tony.

"I don't feel so good." He utters it a second before he's leaning over the edge of the couch bed and puking whatever the archer had eaten today. 

Tony sidesteps the mess to get to the heaving blond, placing a hand on his back and finding the compress to wipe at his face gently.

"It's okay, breathe. You're okay." Cleaning the cloth in the bowl he helps Clint lay back down, Natasha curling into his side again, and sighs in relief as he relaxes. 

He coughs into his elbow until he can't breathe and he worries about either adding to the mess or falling into it. The comm in his ear beeps steadily, sudden enough to get a breath in, and get the spots to stop dancing in his vision. 

"Thanks Jar." 

"I have re-" "I've found-"

"I really don't care who does it, just fix them." Tony waves at the miserably slumbering heroes as he makes his way towards the elevator. He had far too many things to catch up on to stay around for the aftermath of everything. He rubs at his chest as he leans heavily against the wall, waiting for the doors to open. 

"Tony, are you alright?" Strange's voice sounds far away.

"Fine, there's soup if you guys are hungry." His voice croaks a bit, but he knows if he clears it he'll cough. 

"I believe we should use the spell on you as well." Loki's drawl spins around his ears. 

"S'not the spell. I'll be fine. Just comes and goes," he waves his hand like he can wave the problem away, "like the strength in your bones. Iron bends under heat and stuff… whatever dad said." Hes mumbling by the end, not really caring what comes from his mouth or who hears. "Jar… where's the 'vator?" 

"Running slow sir, my apologies." 

"Tony-" 

"Sir you're-!"

"TONY!"

"....infection in his lungs…"

"...the arc reactor…"

"...pneumonia…"

"...need to flush out the cavity…"

"...irritated and swollen, the arc is…"

"...spell…"

Tony's chest feels heavy, his arms tingle, his head aches and eye twitches, there's a dull pain throbbing throughout his body…

So everythings normal.

But then… why doesn't he remember going to bed, and not his bed in the lab but like a bed bed. 

Shit! The team! 

He sits up quick enough to throw his head for a loop, and to startle the bodies surrounding him. He stares with wide eyes at a room full of heroes, several of which are in web hammocks strung from the ceiling. Dozens of eyes stare back, and he wonders if he missed something he shouldn't have. 

"Are we dead?" 

The collective sigh tells him they aren't, but that there's a lecture in his future.

[termagax]

YOOOO confession hour again? i think last time i talked about my weird thing with my straight friend im super physically close/cuddly with and how i kind of would totally have been down to fuck him but hes straight and has a girlfriend. WELL. (inhales deeply)

i ended up spending a weekend at his place so we could go to this weekend event together and i was sleeping in his bed w him and well i shant get into the details but we did end up having sex. like. three times. AND I COULD NOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME figure out why he actually did any of it bc i thought the sexual tension stuff was all in my head and i mean i Am trans (ftm) but ik he sees me the same as any of our other guy friends and he doesnt like dudes at all. overall it was driving me insane (plus flipped some weird horny switch in my brain) for like two weeks i swear.

anyway i spent this past saturday night at his place too and we kind of fucked again but like bcos of the time we had both had to think about the last time it was a lot more sort of immediate "whyyy did we do that" bcos both of us knew damn well it was a bad idea already. and now i just feel super weird about it lmao. i kind of am so super tempted to ask if he would be okay with a sort of FWB arrangement because while i do still view him purely platonically i am also very into him physically and. sex with him was really fucking nice LMAO but also i am 99% sure he wouldnt be cool with any sort of ongoing thing bcos of his current relationship. i mean im friends with his girlfriend too and i think she would understand the way its not like a romantic/emotional thing for me but also she probably still doesnt want one of her friends fucking her boyfriend. and i dont want to fuck up our friendship by letting him Know that i still think about fucking him all the time and would do it again no hesitation LOL. im just losing my fucking mind (in a gay and horny way) basically. anyway SORRY for the giant wall of text in your inbox but i needed to yell about this a little bit. what getting dicked down does to a mfer 😔

GOOD LUCK WITH ALL THAT. if you want my advice its better to talk about it and set expectations than just continually keep fucking (esp if his gf isnt in the know) and regretting it. seriously good luck though godspeed