#there was either an emotional hug or kiss between the two

[emily-mooon]

Fellas is it gay to say that your best friend since middle school looks beautiful falling in love?

[gay-dorito-dust]

I love your writing btw! I’ve been perusing it for awhile haha- can we get cuddle headcanons for how the hoyo boyo’s cuddle? (Sunday, Argenti, Ratio, and Gallagher please? And any other ones you’d like!)

Sunday: possessive cuddles.

Probably watches over you in your sleep like a creep.

He will not let you go as you are kept caged to his chest within a firm hold as he slept peacefully.

Even as he slept, Sunday didn’t like you being far away from him and prefers to keep you close to him as humanly possible.

He’ll want you to rest your tired head against his chest and coddle you in his arms all the while pressing kisses into your head and upon your face as his wings fluttered softly, bathing your face with a gentle breeze.

His little wings only fluttered when he was feeling strong emotions such as love, anger, betrayal and happiness for instance. So needless to say you constantly felt his wings flutter softly in your face but you weren’t going to complain for such as cute display. That and the fact that his little wing flutters were great for when the nights got warmer, and when you didn’t want to cuddle up to Sunday as much.

Not like he’d let you, seeing as how he can’t stand you being a mere three inches away from him. He sleeps a lot better knowing that you’re by his side and the soft fluttering of his wings made you more than aware of that.

His preferred cuddling position is: chest rest

Argenti: this man needs to hold you against him as though he were trying to fuse your souls together. He won’t assume any other position that didn’t have you pressed against one another, or touching in some way shape or form.

He’d even press his forehead against your own while pulling you to his chest as his hands drew patters into your side and interlocking your legs either one another.

He craves the feel of your warm skin like no other.

He can’t sleep without your touch at all as he feels as though half of his soul was somewhere he couldn’t be.

He’s being dramatic, you’re literally in the same bed with the smallest amount of space between the two of you.

The downside of cuddling Argenti is that sometimes you’d wake up with a face full of his ruby red hair that oddly smelt of fresh roses. But other than that cuddling with Argenti was soft, warm, comforting and it made you feel safe being in the arms of your charming knight.

His preferred cuddling position would probably be the honeymoon hug.

Gallagher:

Clingy/playful.

This man is hugging you as though you were his personal pillow/plushie.

You weren’t complaining though as the man runs warm like a furnace and you got to have your face smothered into his tits. You were in heaven.

Will personally get offended when you try to move away from him.

‘Stop trying to escape will you? Unless you’ve got to piss, then I’m going to assume you don’t want to cuddle me anymore.’ He’d say groggily as he burrows his face into your neck, playfully biting it as you tried to swat him away.

He may even try to tickle you because he’s bored or can’t sleep, when in reality he just wants to hear you laugh one last time before falling asleep for real. He loves getting to be playful and affectionate with you when your both trying to find sleep. The moments shared during them were real, authentic and something to treasure for the future.

These moments were proven more precious to Gallagher when his dog then joins in on all the fun and slept at the foot of the bed.

His preferred cuddling position would be: leg cradle.

Ratio:

Average at cuddling unless he’s deep in his sleep.

Ratio looks like someone who doesn’t like the feeling of another person pressed up against him in fear of contracting their stupidity like a disease. 💀

The best he’ll do is touch pinkies and or have your backs pressed against one another. That’s it.

However when he’s deep in his sleep, he’ll be the big spoon and cuddle himself into your neck as his arms clutched at your waist firmly. It was cute and sweet in it’s own way, but it be best not to admit this to Ratio when he’s awake as he’ll try to prove why you’re wrong.

He’s secretly a cuddle bug but is too prideful to admit to it, obviously.

He’s a touch staved man who denies all allegations the fact that he’s touch starved and craves your touch to an extent where he feels it borderlines embarrassment. So as a result of his prideful ways, he’s left to yearn for something he couldn’t not and would not bring himself to speak up upon.

Veritas only finds comfort in seeking your touch when your fast asleep and cuddles himself into you back under the guise of being asleep, it was bound to work and work it did.

His preferred cuddling positioning would be: back to back/ spooning.

[urlocaldesertdweller]

im living and BREATHING that stanford would totally, 100% appreciate and love you a trillion times MORE after the whole portal incident

the fact that you were patient alone and loyal makes he love you an unexplainable amount

during his Bill stan arc, it was always putting you second, treating you more of an assistant and a stranger in the house u shared because all of his focus and attention was drawn to the beyond

almost nearly as soon as hes dropped into the portal his own world is shattered, overtime he realizes the many faults of his own actions to his loved ones, especially you

he unfortunately didnt have a picture of you on hand but he would draw you, putting all of his time into recreating every detail of your face and he kept it safe treating it like it was a real picture of you

he do everything in his power to keep the drawing safe and well preserved, he look and kiss it when times got rough with himself

the drawing and the push to seeing you again was what motivated him, to see you not just through a picture or a drawing but back in his pwn world, you in his arms

you are his anchor, you are what motivated him to keep on pushing for an escape of the multiverse, the research was just a plus

some moments would be harder to bare, he cry worried that his dream of coming back to would only be a hopeless dream

and even if him coming back was a success…would you even still love him? he left you off with a bitter and erupt departure, god he has no idea how long he has been gone either depending if the multiverse warped time

what if you moved on?

of course he only wanted the best for you but…he still loves you and way more than he ever could now, his heart would throb and ache thinking about everything pushed against him

a mountain of doubts and fears forced him to think that his chance would be in the negative (thanks to his overthinking and paranoia)

by the time he finally came out of the portal and the one the first things to see was you, he felt so many emotions…

the fact that you still cared to stay after all this time made his heart skip, leap, and do a summersault

he tried his hardest to not run up and lift and hug you from the excitement and need to tell you everything he felt!

your moment would be slow and sweet, its clear from the way you look back you are still hopelessly in love with him, which matches what he feels for you as well

the time he would actually and finally tell you everything, from the picture, his doubts, his fears, you being his motivation.

of course when he would say all of this, it was a bunch of word throw up as he rushed to convince you

the amount of talks between you and him, ranging from sweet to emotional

you can clearly tell, aside from his age and personality you still love, you know what ever happened made him realize what he was doing to himself and your relationship

kisses and hugs are on the daily! he always worries that something is going to rip the two of you away again :(

at times he talk to himself in front of you, saying that this is much nicer than kissing a piece of paper with your face drawn one it… he wink while kissing your knuckles admiring you

he truly cant keep his eyes off you, every second is healing to him, while in the multiverse you were his anchor, back at home? you are his medicine<3

[anantaru]

thoughts on cockwarming and who loves it the most ?

including. neuvillette, diluc

cw. cockwarming, lots of teasing especially in diluc's part, petnames: love & baby, fem! reader

— ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱

a soft, enervated smile goes across neuvillette's tender lips as he sinks you down on him— and the way it happened all at once, how your walls latched on his shaft oh so strongly, oh so familiar that he found himself already lost in deep puzzlement.

for now, neuvillette doesn't move his cock in you, not an inch, nor does he necessarily want to either. ultimately, the man decides against showering you with his sloppy thrusts as he leans his face against yours gently to capture your lips.

tranquility shapes your mind that of joy as it manifested with the feeling of his body resting his weight on yours. your legs automatically wrap around his hips to keep him there as your cunt squeezes him ever tight, lures him in for more of that sweetness, the crushing compression of your sore walls gripping him so tight that he could barely keep up with his breathing.

oh yeah, neuvillette was losing his mind.

nails carving into the fat of your thighs, watching how you're turning delirious due to just how impossibly well he felt inside of you.

he groans out through a tensed jaw, knitted brows accentuating his pleasured face as he attempts to part his lips to voice something, a tender coo or loving praise on how nice you felt— yet unsurprisingly, all that really escaped in the end was a soft hum, a pleased one, one that turned your physical state into a myriad of emotions passing between you two.

"baby— i am," you babble out, definitely not expecting neuvillette to move anytime soon, "i'm gonna— s-soon," as you let go of a shaken whine that reverberated across the entire room.

your aching thighs were restless, hugging around his hips steadier as you exchange moans between each other, the rather lewd although sensual noises bouncing from mouth to mouth.

"does this feel good? please tell me, love," neuvillette mutters and he was so close to you that you felt his bottom lip scratch yours, "i need you to tell me," you shudder at his heavily raspy voice as he nibbles on your bottom lip.

for the better part of about five minutes, the iudex has got you wrapped around his finger, has conquered your mind effortlessly as the wet sounds between your legs only added to this, every wet squelch and throb having you whine uncontrollably.

but do not forget, because you know you're save surrounded by strong arms.

you can barely breathe with how thick and bulky his erection would throb in you, but you're utterly pleased by it, not wanting it any other way.

— ꒰ DILUC ꒱

diluc wasn't even aware that he liked to be cockwarmed by you— although this much wasn't the end, because once he's actually experienced it for the first time, he'll drag it out one by one, keeping his cock buried without moving until you're practically unable to speak.

and while you might assume that he found himself fantasizing about you in his office. a lewd, little fantasy about his darling settling on his lap and cockwarming him during work— there was just something so, lets call it, special, about resting next to each other late at night, together exhausted from the passing day— his cock softly stored within your walls as you're exchanging serenity through kisses and fondles.

greatly stammering over his words, diluc presses your body against his frame as your sore nipples repeatedly scratch against his chest, resulting in you letting go of a soft, surprised squeal, "how does it feel, hm?" he slowly runs his digits over your thigh, leisurely, leading you on to do what he really wishes for, most likely to hear you whine out his name, sob and cry it for more.

without mincing words, diluc was a little nasty for that— but it was also so sweet when he smiled into your lips as you whisper out his name.

what else was important to note is that despite the fact that the two of you had been dating for a good while already, diluc simply cannot help himself but get slightly shy when making love to you, most definitely due to the fact that it was deeply saturated in passion, paving the way for something stronger.

you can feel the hearts in his unspoken language— in his kisses, his traces, the feeling of him throbbing inside to the squeezes of you.

see it this way— when diluc touches you, it's like something in the pit of your stomach turns wide awake and gets set aflame, in an instant, roaring flames of love conquering your body and mind.

the flames continuously grow and are persistent in your soul— and when diluc notices your yearning for him, the man could never hide his ultimate desire for you, he needs to catch it.

that truly was the pleasure of feeling the rush of loving you.

you hold on to his sweat-laced back, barring your fingernails into the damp skin before beginning to smear wet kisses all along his sharp jawline, a few of them smothering over his cheeks, and at last, finding his pretty lips again.

you're so wet, sore and thirsty for him to move already, but he doesn't, diluc needs to savor you more. his eyes never leave yours, only when he wanted to admire the mess he made of your warm cunt slicking him up all the way to the base.

you sniffle into his shoulder as diluc chuckles breathlessly, "a little more, my love—just a little longer," he promises before giving your breasts a good squeeze, full on knowing just how sensitive they had been getting.

even with diluc showing you more of his dominant side, he never fails to smile ever so gently, smiling wider and letting you see the light of his eyes.

perhaps it's actually his smile that awoke that unique feeling in you— for one, it was tender, glazed in molasses and popsicle sweet, with just a hint of mischief.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[earthtooz]

x : AFTERGLOW :*+ﾟ it's all me, just don't go !

in which: rin doesn't realise what he has until it's gone. now that you're gone, he will do anything to get you back.

warnings: 5.2k wc, ANGST TO FLUFF, breakup, toxic relationship towards the beginning, rin is really mean to gn!reader, hopeful ending, rin is devastatingly in love and pathetic, reader and rin are adults + he's a soccer player, other characters make an appearance and are friends with reader, mentions of throwing up, mentions of food, both reader and rin cry, just listen to taylor swift's 'afterglow'.

a/n: FINALLY, THIS FIC THAT I STARTED ALL THE WAY BACK IN APRIL IS DONE. GOODNESS. i have mixed feelings towards this piece, but i cannot withhold it from the world any longer. i'm going to forget i ever wrote this and move on! this literally took three drafts to finish.

you don’t know when your relationship with itoshi rin began to crumble since it isn’t an event that can be pinpointed, not a date that can be marked in your calender, and most certainly not a reminder you can set in your phone. 

your friends keep telling you that you need to think back on it, that although it hurts, it was a necessary step in healing and getting over him. the more you reflect on it, however, your heart would only shatter into more fragments, with each one piercing you with the memories of better times. 

when did his expression turn sour? when did he begin looking at you with such disdain? when did he decide he didn’t need you anymore?

when did rin’s chips of insecurity wedge themselves between you?

the only memory that serves as an answer occurred at 7:00 pm one regular night. if you think hard enough, you can remember how the plush couch cushions sank under your weight, the clicks of the clock that had a second hand minutely too fast, and the sinking feeling of premonition in your gut. 

the latest rin ever comes back is 6:00, and if not, he would have let you known why he wasn’t home.

so where was he? the takeout you bought for dinner is getting cold and your stomach is growing louder and more impatient by the second. you didn’t want to eat without him though since it’s something you did daily; eating together as a way of debriefing and letting go of the stress that the day brought.

after an onslaught of unanswered phone calls from you, at 7:15, rin merely texts a ‘won’t be home for a while. eat without me’, and although rin was naturally curt and straightforward, the text had a depravity of… him, somehow. either way, his message causes a swirl of emotions in your stomach; unpleasant ones that begin to grow a nauseous shade of green.

you put rin’s takeaway in the fridge regardless, sending him a quick text telling him to be safe and that you’ll see him soon. 

he probably got caught up with something. you’re sure it’ll be fine. 

you shouldn’t have ignored that sinking feeling of premonition. shouldn’t have pushed down the unease swirling in your stomach when shutting the door to the refrigerator before stalking over to the kitchen island with slow steps as you prepare to eat in silence. no one to keep you company except your own thoughts and the ghost of rin’s presence.

and when rin does come home almost two hours later, he stills calls your name as usual, you still go to him as usual, he greets you with a tired smile as usual, you hug him as usual, he doesn’t kiss the top of your forehead, though. you ignore it, pushing your thoughts aside because he was home. he finally came back. you’ll wake up tomorrow and this uneasy feeling will sort itself out.

except it doesn’t.  

from that night onwards, rin changes. slowly, but surely, the cracks of change manifest in your relationship and through it all, you choose to cast a blind eye, plastering over it with sightless belief in your love. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the queasy feeling in your gut never stills. it fades at times when your mind is busy with other things, but it inevitably gets drawn back into the whirlpool of concern regarding your lover- or, rather, rin.

you think you’re still in a relationship, but you don’t really know anymore. you haven’t seen him in a while. the only indication of his existence that you get are the stray bowls he leaves on the kitchen counter whenever he’s done eating, the lessening weight of his protein powder containers, and the decrease of various food items from the fridge that you restock here and there.

it feels like you’re living with a ghost.

some nights, when it gets the most lonely, your mind betrays you, completely eliminating any and all trust you had in rin. 

you wonder if there’s another person. another lover that he feels more passionately for. another lover that his heart had gravitated towards, abandoning yours in the process. perhaps that is the explanation behind his absence. 

but no evidence points towards that conclusion. there has been no suspicious deduction of bills from his bank statement that would suggest infidelity, his location is constantly at the sports stadium whenever you check, and there are no traces of a lover on him- not even you. 

it is not totally blasphemous to assume that itoshi rin wouldn’t be engrossed in soccer to the point that he’d spend unhealthy and obsessive hours into honing his abilities, but it feels a little traitorous that he could forget about life outside of the sport. it isn’t just you he’s neglecting. his mother and father have been constantly asking when he’ll come over to spend some time together, his teammates have been asking you about rin’s whereabouts and when he’ll be free and what’s worse is that you never know how to answer every time. 

it’s embarrassing to be seen as a lover that is forgettable enough for rin to dismiss, so you lie and lie and lie, telling everyone that you’ll tell them later, that he’s fine and just busy, and you lie to yourself. you tell yourself that rin will be home soon so you two can talk about it, and then everything will return to normal.

(your reflection looks through your facade, disheartened and worried.)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“why are you late?” 

you jump at the voice that greets you when you step foot in the apartment and the sight before you causes you to wonder just how tired you feel, because rin is in your apartment, where he’s meant to be, for once. not only that, but he’s leaning against the couch, adorned in loungewear and slippers, and the sight is too foreignly domestic for your comprehension. 

coming home to a house with someone there feels nice. 

he’s lost a little bit of muscle and fat, but his frame is still as intimidating; shoulders broad and built, just the faintest indicator into the athletic body he’s developed over the years. his hair is a little longer too. 

“oh, rin, hi.” you mutter, surprise evident in your tone.

“hello.”

“since i got a promotion,” you respond simply. rin makes no move to approach you, no initiative to take your bag and put it on the couch for you. instead, he stays rooted in his position leaning against the couch, arms crossed.

the air around him feels hostile, and suddenly you’re almost afraid to speak. “and does that promotion change your work hours or something?”

(he doesn’t congratulate or celebrate your achievement.)

“i work with flexible hours now but the office is further and the commute is so bothersome.”

rin uncrosses his arms with a thoughtful hum, gaze glued to the floor, mind occupied. you approach him slowly, pulling your bag off your shoulder and setting it in the entrance near the genkan with a thud, the sound sobering to him.

when he looks back up, you don’t want to acknowledge the emptiness in his icy eyes, barren of the usual determination that defined itoshi rin. but if you knew that that day would be the beginning of the end, perhaps you would have done something about it.

when you opened your arms for him, perhaps you would have hugged him a little tighter, a little longer, strained all the stress out of his shoulders.

perhaps you would have protected him a little harder from the cruelties of his own mind; shown him that the world was not out to get him, and that there was a place for people like him in the world (people who can’t see their own value and instead, berate themselves for their waning self-worth because they cannot see the light behind them).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“i’m going to shower,” rin declares once the moment both of you step in the safety of your shared home.

“no, you’re not! not before we talk,” you demand, hurriedly taking off your shoes so you can face him before he slips out of your grasp. the dark-haired turns to look at you with an unamused expression, the way tonight seemed to drag on obviously taking a toll on him.

“you’re gonna stop me from taking a shower, really?”

“yes because what the fuck was going on with you tonight?”

he narrows his eyes into slits, the pure intimidation that rin naturally emanates almost threatening you into submission. however, for the humiliation you’ve had to endure tonight, you won’t budge.

“i don’t understand,” rin says monotonously. you roll your eyes.

“you don’t understand? what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know what you’re getting mad over.”

“the fact that you didn’t even try to talk to me- let alone look at me, once this entire night?”

your partner looks away, crossing his arms over his chest. “that’s an exaggeration,” he huffs.

“no it’s not!” you recall the looks of pity sent your way when rin sat beside you unmoving and unresponsive to any conversation you tried to make. “would it have killed to show you some sort of interest?”

“would it kill you to not receive attention for one night?” he retaliates. 

“it’s not about that-”

“really? sure feels like it. i don’t have time to shower you with all my attention, y/n, there are other things i have to do.” 

there are a million things you want to say to rin, a million emotions that you have felt whilst he’s been absent, a million examples of how he’s been leaving you behind and how you’re now fed up of keeping these millions to yourself. yet, not a word leaves you, too stunned by the stranger in front of you to voice it all out. 

rin, however, takes your silence as defeat and turns to leave.

“you’re being dramatic. i’m going to shower before i waste anymore time with this lukewarm conversation.” 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the night your relationship officially fell apart is one you still remember vividly, because it only happened a few days ago.

in your memory, the night was nearing 9pm, yet rin had still not come home. 

your heart takes you to him because as much as your relationship with him has caused you nothing but pain recently, you know itoshi rin. you know him because you’re soulmates and where he goes, there’s a fragment of your heart that follows. 

the drive to the practice pitch is nothing but heavy. heavy with your anticipation and stress, you feel your chest constrict and tighten, especially when you pull up into the very empty parking lot. 

“rin!” you shout for the fifth time and only then, does the dark-haired look up at you from where he’s doing dribbling drills. he almost trips over the ball from your interruption. 

“wha- oh,” he turns away just before you can catch the roll of his eyes, the snarl of frustration (one that lovers should never bare at each other). “what do you want?”

you pause a few feet away from him, utterly gobsmacked with the attitude your partner was showing you. after driving all this way, the least you’d want is a little concern, but alas.

“it’s time to go,” you stand your ground. “i’m here to pick you up.”

“yeah, right, i’m not going home.”

“that’s ridiculous! are you not tired?”

“no.”

“rin. c’mon, that’s enough, you need to rest.”

“what the fuck do you know about being enough?” he asks.

the silence is deafening and most hurtful. 

you stammer out the only response you can, “wh-what?”

he doesn’t give you anything. unrelenting, he is. rin has always been the embodiment of stubbornness served cold. not finding much productivity in his silence, you continue speaking with a wavering voice. “let’s go home. please, you shouldn’t be working yourself like this-”

“-leave me the fuck alone!” he finally comes undone. “can’t you see that i don’t have time to deal with headaches like you?”

the thread keeps unravelling.

“fucking lukewarm. i can’t deal with this right now, i don’t need you here.”

“fine,” you murmur. rin has his back turned against you and he prepares himself to kick another ball. “i’ll leave then since you don’t need me.”

when rin arrives home that night, he reasons the unease churning in his stomach on the physical exertion of practice as nothing is out of place. the apartment is as kept and tidy as it typically is, the lights are off because you’ve gone to bed, and there is a meal on the kitchen counter sealed by plastic wrap.

he won’t eat it because he’ll want to throw up otherwise, so rin tucks it neatly into the fridge, not thinking twice about the emptiness on the shelves, right where your favourite drinks are normally kept. 

the athlete washes up quickly and efficiently, a good night’s rest sounding too appealing for his battered body that felt as heavy as lead. 

that night, sleep takes rin and lulls him into a temporary sanctuary, protecting him from the reality that he would wake up to. because when morning comes, he will turn and find that you are not beside him like he expects you to be. your side of the bed is untouched, devoid of any warmth or indicator that you were there.

he checks the bathroom- you’re not there. he calls your name in the hallway- you don’t respond. he scans the kitchen, the study, the living room, and finds nothing but loneliness in each room. there’s no text from you indicating that you were elsewhere.

you’ll return, though. rin’s sure of it.

except you don’t, the hours pass by with rin anticipating your return, and his confidence slowly dwindles with each minute. by the time it’s been 24 hours since he last saw you, his patience runs thin. finding your contact, rin presses the ‘call’ button and is surprised that it does not go through, stopping him after only one ring when an automated voice says ‘this caller is unavailable’. 

the dark-haired stares at your contact in contempt, furrowing his eyebrows when all of his following attempts receive the same treatment, but rin continues stubbornly because you couldn’t have blocked him, right?

was it because of what he said? he didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to blow up on you like that- how is he supposed to say sorry if he can’t even reach you?

checking his private accounts on various social media, he sees that you’ve blocked him there too. running in to the master bedroom and checking the closet, half of your clothes are missing, and the bag you keep on the shelf is missing too. the bathroom lacks some of your products, your laptop and various chargers are gone from your study space, and the heaviness of your absence hits itoshi rin like a train.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you never did come around to collect your stuff. rin finds a little bit of pain in that fact.

he feels like a ghost, haunted by the trinkets of you that remain littered around his apartment. he doesn't have the heart to throw them out, not when they're the closest thing to you he can get.

a few times rin sees you in his dreams. a few times he sees you in his nightmares, looking completely hurt and run-down by his recklessness and neglect, but most mornings he wakes up feeling emptier, no one to turn to on your side on the bed. not anymore. there’s no body to hold when he needs it most, there’s no one to keep him company whilst he eats dinner, there’s no love. not since the day you left.

you, on the other hand, find it odd to live life without a second person in the periphery. you thought rin was the one for you, you never had any thoughts about what life could be without him because you were certain that it would be him that you spent the rest of your years with, so learning to accommodate without him is gnawing you away, the little bug of loneliness festing on your newfound independence. 

you’re seated on the floor of your best friend’s living room when reo texts one day, interrupting your apartment hunt.

reo: Are you still coming to my party?

you scrunch your eyebrows at the text, unknowing of where it was coming from.

y/n: not anymore. what’s up?

reo: Why not :( reo: Please it’d be so fun

y/n: don’t you know that rin and i broke up?

reo: Ok but he’s definitely not coming reo: It’s Rin, he doesn’t have a life so you’re fine. Pls say you’ll come

reo: Plus he’s been all mopey ever since so I don’t think he’s in a party mood

you dutifully ignore the last part of reo’s statement. after a little more coaxing, he finally manages to get you to agree to come, but not without a feeling of apprehension settling in your gut. still, it would be a shame to miss out on an invitation from a friend because of it. 

besides, reo’s bargain of offering to buy your outfit was too tempting to let go. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“practice was rough,” bachira murmurs, flopping on the sides of the soccer field with a sigh. his sweat causes his hair and clothes to cling to his skin, and isagi takes a seat on the bench beside his best friend, tossing the dual-tone haired his water bottle.

wiping the sweat off his forehead, isagi agrees with a hum. “i know. i just want to go home.”

“i don’t know how rin does this, staying overtime and all of that.”

“he’s insane. it only got worse after his breakup and everything.”

bachira frowns, looking over to where the dark-haired in question is standing. “i feel bad for rin-rin, seems like he’s not taking it well at all.”

a beat of silence passes before bachira speaks again. “you know y/n’s coming to reo’s party this weekend?” 

the black-haired wipes his mouth before setting the water bottle down. “really?”

“yeah. reo told me.”

“that’s nice, it’s been a while since we’ve seen y/n so it’d be nice to catch up.”

“i wonder if rin knows.”

“i doubt it,” isagi reassures, “he hardly goes to parties like the one reo’s throwing.”

“maybe that’s why y/n agreed in the first place.”

“probably.”

a cold voice suddenly cuts the two from their conversation “y/n’s going to reo’s party?” 

isagi feels his blood cool over before looking up. there, stands itoshi rin, who has a frazzled, yet equally determined look in his eyes, one that isagi has not seen in a while (not since you left). “what? no! where did you hear that from?” 

bachira laughs nervously, “you’re hearing things, rin-rin!

but they are soccer players, not actors or professional liars. “shut the fuck up, asshats. y/n’s going to reo’s party this weekend?”

the two exchange a look and their silence is the only answer rin needs. 

“hold on, you’re not thinking of going, are you?” isagi asks, accepting defeat and now switching tactics.

“why wouldn’t i? my partne-” he pauses. “y/n is gonna be there.”

“yes but-”

“-you can’t stop me from going, so don’t even think about it.”

without another word, rin is gone, stalking away with a scary determination that was previously dormant. 

“what did we just do?” bachira mumbles. “should we tell y/n?” 

“nah.”

“agreed.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you should have never come to this party.

how stupid and foolish of you, but how utterly cruel of the universe to let you hurt like this, to let the same pain that has walked all over you for the past few months return; this time ramming into you with the ferocity of a bull, knocking the air out of your lungs

“y/n!” comes the dreaded call of your name. you walk a little faster, breaking into an-almost sprint.

“y/n!” 

“for fucks sake- y/n!” this cry of your name is broken, rasped and pathetic, and your chests clenches from how pained it sounds. like a howl from an injured wolf, it is broken enough for you to pity it, luring you into a trap that will inevitably end in chunks being torn from your heart, but you don’t have much left to spare, so you keep running, no matter how badly you want to give in.

except it’s not enough to deter rin, nothing ever be when there’s a goal in sight, especially one so close that he can taste it.

“y/n, please, i need to talk to-”

“-go away, rin!” you cut him off, hugging yourself tighter to shield yourself against the cold and rin’s pleas from piercing you. 

“not until you listen to me!”

fury powers you, igniting you with the courage to turn around and finally face him. you don’t look him in the eye, keeping your gaze elsewhere, but he shuts up nevertheless, awestruck by finally being able to see you face-to-face after being so long away from you. all words die on his throat, withering away to nothing as his eyes slightly widen in shock.

you’re just as beautiful as the day you left; perhaps even more so.

rin wonders if your radiancy was birthed by his absence, and if the answer is ‘yes’, he might wither away on the spot.

“it’s always about you isn’t it?” you shout. “always about what you want and never about what others want. you said you wanted me to leave, so i did! what more could i possibly give?” 

he gulps, utterly entranced as his heart makes itself known in his chest, racing wildly and vividly; the first indication that it was alive and hadn’t been replaced by a gaping hole in your absence. he hasn’t felt this human since you left. 

“i didn’t mean for you to actually leave,” rin confesses shakily. 

“well, it didn’t seem like you wanted me to stay either.”

“no, that’s not-” he falters. “it’s… not the same without you.”

you hug yourself tighter. “i don’t believe you, you’re just saying that now that there’s nobody to warm your bed.”

“no, it’s not like that- i don’t like living without you,” the athlete continues, admitting something so heavy with such airiness.

“you can’t just say that after so long. not when you’ve been living without me months before we broke up.”

there are a million and one things that rin wants to say to you, but none of them break through the whirlwind that is his thoughts, rattling around in his brain on overdrive and overwhelming him with the intensity of them all. one thing he knows for sure is that you are the single muse behind all of them, the only thing that is keeping him sane amongst the flurry of disturbances.

then, you shiver from the chilly breeze of the night, and the whirlwind is silenced into oblivion to awaken a dormant instinct of his instead. one that commands him to fulfil a duty that he’s not inclined to do anymore.

quickly, rin takes off his jacket and holds it out to you, as if expecting you to take it. 

he drops it when you don’t, hope dwindling in his stomach.

swallowing weakly, he then asks “would you ever give me a second chance?”

“you’ll hurt me again,” you glance away, the street lamps highlighting the melancholy in your profile as rin observes you closely. his eyes outline the curves of your face, each divet and slope that he used to trace with his hands now out of his reach. “you take and you take, but you never give and i’m so tired of it.”

“don’t say that,” he pleads, voice barely louder than a whisper as the dark-haired takes a heavy step towards you. “you’ll break my heart.”

“i shouldn’t love you anymore, you’re bad for me.”

“then i’ll be good- i’ll become whatever you want me to be-”

“-we won’t work like that.”

“we’ll work as long as i’m yours again, just, let me fix us, i’ll do whatever it takes. i’m not giving up like this.” 

the first tear makes herself known and paths the way for your downfall like a tsunami, washing away whatever you had built up during your time away from itoshi rin; the good and the bad. the hurt and the healing, all undone by a singular, stray tear. in your vision, he becomes nothing but a blur, a kaleidoscope of colours that you once loved.

a kaleidoscope of colours that you still love, much to the chagrin of your broken heart. 

a hand wraps around your wrist, a warm shackle that grounds you to rin like he’s your lifeline. no matter how bad you want to push him away, something in you will always bend to him. 

“don’t cry,” he pleads, voice airy and breathy. “i’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

please don’t cry because of me.

“i don’t want to be with you if it means i need to go through all of that again.” you whisper, slipping out of his grasp like sand and wiping away your own tears, rejecting his callous and prickly touch. 

rin’s world dims as panic seizes his throat. “please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.”

“i do though. you left me first, don’t you know?” 

“-i do.”

“and now i’m not yours to care about anymore-”

“i know, i know,” words are merely spilling out of his mouth without much purpose at this point, because he’ll do anything just to delay you leaving, to push back the possibility of you turning around and never seeing you again. why did he have to break who he loved so much? 

still, he pleads for another chance, desperation shining in his eyes as pure longing fills him. you have always been too good to him, he knows, but like the tumultuous tides and their inability to stray too far from the shore, rin will come back to you with his undying devotion. 

even if he thinks you should find someone better than him, that you should be adored by someone who could love you so much better, he can’t let go. to let you go is to let go the one good thing that came to him in life, 

you exhale shakily. “we’ve loved each other for too long.” 

“what do you mean?” he stutters, eyes widening helplessly. 

“i have loved you too much for too long, rin,” you choke, “there has to be an end to us somewhere in sight- you need to accept that.”

“no,” his look of absolute devastation causes a physical recoil in your stomach. “no- not long enough, it’ll never be enough, fuck- even forever won’t be long enough, i can’t let you go like that.”

he crosses the distance between you in the blink of an eye. you can’t see him clearly under the dim light of the night, but you can feel him, so close and so overwhelming, but so cold as his hands come to grasp yours. his grip is firm, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel his determination. 

tears dance along his lashline. 

“please, tell me you’re still mine,” begs the dark-haired. rin’s tears are diamonds, in which they are precious, but they also crumble into a precious waterfall that rolls down his cheeks, tempting you towards his beautiful ruination. 

words continue to tumble out of him, each one sharpened to pierce your defences. “tell me that we’ll be fine, that i’m all you want, please. i’m so fucking sorry for hurting you, but please don’t leave me. 

i’ll fix us, i’ll become everything you need, i’ll be good.”

the dark-haired’s hands find their way to your face, cupping each side of your jaw with a scary gentleness; one that you’d never expect from someone as ragged as itoshi rin. 

“i love you,” he declares, so raw, so full of passion that it makes you sick. the rin you know never lets his heart on his sleeve like this. 

you cave. “how will you fix us?” 

slowly. he’ll rebuild everything that you have given him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

first, rin takes you out on dates again. calls you beautiful and really means it.

second, rin leaves practice at regular times, and listens when you tell him that he needs to take care of himself. because for you, he will. 

third, rin picks you up from work. his practice ends a little earlier than your job, so he always goes the extra mile to be there for you at the end of the day. even if you tell him that he doesn’t need to go out of his way to do so, he’d rather see you get home safe than only receiving a mere text of confirmation. 

plus, it gives rin more time with you.

fourth, rin sends you regular gifts. from bouquets, to random items that he just knows you’d like, they all get left at your door at the best times. 

fifth, rin lets you set the pace. you wanted things to go slow so that you two didn’t have to force anything back in place. no point recreating something that’s in the past, you reasoned, so might as well try again.

sixth, rin takes his time in welcoming you back into his space. it’s a few months after you two have reconciled, and majority of your items are back where they belong (you poked fun at him for not being able to throw away the stuff you did leave, and he just mumbled something indecipherable, all embarrassed, before moving on). the life has been restored in his apartment, now filled with more remnants of you loitering around his space: your various chargers and laptop, your products, your clothes, they all sit beside his things like that’s where they are meant to be.

and you are back in his arms, because it is where you are meant to be (more for his sake than yours).

rin stirs awake one morning under the gentle light of the morning sun and you’re there beside him, occupying the space that he has left devastatingly empty. mattress still curved to your frame as he never dared infiltrate it, in hopes that you would return.

now that you have, you feel too warm, too familiar, too unreal that he wonders if you’re just another dream of his. 

then, you stir, and press yourself closer against his chest, face to face with the heart that only beats for you.

a stray tear rolls down rin’s face; a salvation for the utter relief he feels, as well as the overwhelming amount of adoration that he stores for you. his ‘i love you’ is sweeter than the chirping of the birds outside, and certainly more meaningful as he wraps more of himself around your sleeping figure, hoping to attach all of him to all of you. 

you’re home. he won’t let you leave again.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[webslingingslasher]

i'm a sucker for angst to fluff. what if parker's friends say some mean things ab your body but parker doesn't defend you. that night, you won't cuddle him, you won't even sleep in the same bed because you don't wanna disgust him... and peter has to make it up to you.

parker is a dunce!!! peter supremacy!

Peter had two sets of friend groups. 

The first one was the original one. Kids he grew up with, suffered through high school and flew into the freedom of college with him. The group you knew the most of, they were the closest to him and nearly the entire group became your friends too. Weekends spent smashing drinks and staying up too late before hitting up a diner for greasy burgers at four in the morning. 

Then the second group, which you did not know well, don’t know how Peter knows them and can’t fathom why Peter would entertain them. 

It’s split like this. 

With friend group A, he’s Peter.

With friend group B, he’s Parker. 

You don’t like Parker; not one bit. 

Parker can be stark, blunt, bold and cocky. 

It was the friend group, they made him believe he was one of them so sometimes he acted a little too much like them. It wasn’t ever too bad, just the stuff you know he normally wouldn’t feed into, he gorged. 

His friend, leader of the group, Nick, said it in passing. It’s not the first time you met, granted you try to spend as little time as possible with them but you also won’t give them the cold shoulder. The mutual understanding with friend group B is that you both are there for Peter’s sake, it just makes things easier. 

Nick threw his beer back, foam swirled to the top. His long arm extended to the seat next to him, his watch clicked against the chair top. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t bag someone with a better body, Parker.” A sharp wink is thrown at your boyfriend, and in response he snorted, “yeah, right.” 

It was sarcastic, you’ll give him that. But he didn’t give more, you waited for the ‘real funny, but don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.’ However, he just rubbed your shoulder and sent a small smile, almost like he was saying, ‘you know how it is.’ 

You didn’t miss the tiny curl of Nick’s lip when you shook Peter’s hand off your arm. 

If he couldn’t stand up to his friends over a shit comment then why would you let him put his hands on your body, knowing everyone thinks he could do better?

—------------------------------

Peter frowned when you pulled away from his grasp, he was going for a hug but you floated away. You were quiet on the ride back, not starting conversation but not letting it fail either. 

If Peter could describe your emotion right now it would be ‘fine.’ 

“C’mon, gimme a hug.” 

You cross your arms, “you sure you want your hands on me?” 

Peter reaches out and tries to pull one hand back with the other but his right hand breaks free and grabs you, “I can’t control them! They need you too much.” 

Sometimes it’s really, really hard to be upset with him. 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you pull away, forcing yourself to stand up for yourself, if the situation was reversed you’d shut it down at the dinner table. Not smile sympathetically and give him an ‘oh well!’ 

“Want company?” 

Disappointment covers your features, “not really.” 

He wouldn’t stand up to defend the body he loves but he wants to be first in line to use it. 

“Oh. Okay, if you want I’ll make us some ice cream cones and set up a movie?” 

You shrug, “sure.” 

Peter knows what’s wrong but he views it as a boundary issue between his friends and him, not you. He knows what he needs to do but doesn’t want to involve you further. 

That message doubles down when you told him you would sleep on his couch tonight, he woke you up after the movie to take you to bed when you shrugged him off, “I’ll sleep here tonight,” that never happens, ever. 

“No, c’mon, I’ll carry you.” 

His hands slipped under your thigh when you rolled over, “if it wasn’t so late I’d be at home. Consider yourself lucky that I’m still here.” 

So, Peter presses a kiss to your temple with an “alright, honey. Goodnight, we can talk in the morning, okay?” 

When he walks away you mumble under your breath, “hope you dream about girls with better bodies.” He hears you, it takes everything in him to not bring you with him. 

—----------------------------------

Noise woke you up. 

The room was bright, sleeping in the living room left you exposed to nearly every window in the apartment. Peter’s room was dark and cool, if you were in there it could be well into mid morning before you rose. 

There was a blanket on you that wasn’t there last night, it’s one from Peter’s room, he keeps an extra by his bed for you. The sun peering in warmed up the room and you started to feel just a little too warm. 

You almost forgot why you were awake until you heard a cabinet shut loudly and a soft curse murmured from the kitchen. Peter was up early making breakfast, you know he feels largely guilty. It almost makes everything okay. 

It took heat swarming your face for you to pull the blanket away, the cool breeze from his ceiling fan felt really good. You yawn, then cough from a dry throat. 

“Baby?” 

You sniff, nothing more than a harsh breath, “morning.” Your voice croaks from the couch, you hear shuffling, steps get louder until you looked up at his face peering over you. 

“I slept like shit, how about you?” 

You stretch your arms over your head, “no complaints.” 

Peter recognizes you’re still mad. 

“Waffles or pancakes?” 

You grin, “french toast.” 

Peter leans over the back of the couch, his lips puckered. “Deal,” you push his chin away. “No kisses, you’re on time out.” 

He wanted to wait until after breakfast but he really can’t last that long without a kiss. 

“Okay, come here.” 

You got up and followed him, he grabbed his phone sitting on the counter and gestured to taking a seat at the breakfast bar. Peter unlocked his phone and tapped around, he handed it towards you, you looked at him confused before he wiggled it. “Take it, read it.” 

Taking his phone you looked down, it was blurry and you had to blink a few times. Peter busy with moving around the kitchen. 

A text thread between him and Nick. 

“hey man, I know you didn’t mean anything by it but you hurt some feelings by that comment tonight. From here on out no jokes on or about her, cool?” 

“Ah shit man, my bad. I didn’t mean to get you yelled at, no jokes about the lady in front of her from now on.” 

“I mean don’t joke about her, ever. It’s not cool to me, and it disrespects my girlfriend.” 

“Say less, I’ll tell the guys, no more jokes about parker’s girl.” 

“Appreciate it, man.” 

A small pout takes over your face, he texted it last night after you got home. If you can track it back it would’ve been around the time you were in the shower, unprompted he stuck up for you. 

Peter stood up for you, he had your back. 

You assumed he didn’t, but he just didn’t make a scene. He kept cool and calm until he was back at home, in regards to not embarrassing you or his friends and maybe damaging either relationship. 

You click your tongue, your boyfriend meets your eyes, he’s awaiting a response. 

“Well, now it’s hard to be mad.” 

“I will always defend your honor, sweetheart. Just because I don’t do it at that moment doesn’t mean I wont, okay? I love you and you are absolutely the hottest woman I could ever bag, alright?” 

You respond with countless kisses and cuddles, Peter needs to nearly peel you off his body so he can use the stove safely, but not one complaint utters from his lips. 

[chiara-hotel]

𝒟𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓂

Characters: Blade, Dan Heng, Robin, Jingliu

Warnings: Pre-plotline Jingliu (back in the quintet, spoilers for various quests, penacony spoilers (Robin), Pre-plotline & during plotline Robin, Small spoilers for Luofu questline(?) (Jingliu)

Part 2 Here: (w/Aventurine, Acheron & Boothill)

Part 3 Here: (w/Sunday & Black Swan)

- Main love languages is gift giving & acts of service

- Whenever he’s on a mission and sees something that reminds him of you he immediately buys it

- As for acts of service well he’ll help you out all the time, cooking, cleaning, opening the door for you etc.

- A quieter person also, but blade enjoys just sitting there and listening to you ramble on about life

- Most times you do a bunch of things and then blade follows you around like a little lost puppy… Its adorable

- Cuddles are not uncommon but not common either-it really depends on blades current mood for if he decides to cuddle with you (or if you ask him 100 times)

- Blade gets both Jealous & Possessive quite easily

- All it takes is one look from a man, not even suggestively, even if it’s looking at you for 0.5 of a second, blade is already on their throats

- It did depend on who you prefer to date, if you only like males he’s a little less jealous around women, although if you like both he’d ready to murder everyone in the world

- Blade doesn’t show much emotion, often you can’t figure out what he’s thinking

- His favourite date spots include picnic dates or small cafe dates

- Remember he’s a wanted criminal so he can’t go anywhere too public, that said he dislikes PDA a lof

- Blade would rather keep any affections between the two of you only, not even for the other stellaron hunters to see

- Some gifts Blade gives you include souvenirs from different worlds he goes to, a sword to protect yourself (if you need it) and some cute stuffed animals he saw that reminded him of you

- Hes the quiet type in the relationship most of the time

- Likes affection in private, but in public he loves kisses (on the cheek, or small kisses on his lips), hugs or even holding hands

- Cuddles are his favourite, he doesn’t care too much in who hugs who

- Especially loves physical touch & giving you gifts

- Its adorable seeing your face light up when he gives you something

- You both have a shared room in the express so most of the time you both just cuddle while you sleep

- Loves forehead kisses, especially when you give them-it makes him blush every single time

- During the trailblaze mission of the Luofu he tried avoiding you in his Imbibitor Lunae form (but he knows he can’t hide forever and you guys have to fight together so you end up seeing it)

- His tail gives away his emotions away whenever hes in that form (its adorable)

- Oh and March is your #1 shipper

- Shes gotten a lot of pictures of the two of you when you guys weren’t looking

- Robin is similar to the other two, fairly quiet in the relationship

- As a popular singer you attend all of her concerts and help give her some luck

- As well as calm her nerves when needed

- Loves cuddling! Its her favorite pastime (small spoon)

- Physical touch means a lot to her, cuddling, handholding, hugging, anything

- In public Robin loves holding your hand, keeping you close to her

- In private, she enjoys cuddling you, hugs again, but she adores when you touch her wings (watch her get all flustered from that)

- Also enjoys giving you gifts

- Many of her fans adore you, some are very jealous though…

- Speaking of jealousy she doesn’t get too jealous-if you spend too long ignoring her though she’ll start sulking just a little bitbit

- Her fans are definitely jealous at you both, they wish they were in your place all of the time

- You’ve met Sunday plenty of times, the first time you both met he threatened you if anything happens to her

- But he understands how much his sister loves you and ends up accepting you

- When Robin “dies” in the Penacony dreamscape you and Sunday teamup to find the murderer as the ultimate duo

- Of course he makes you do most of the labor

- In the end, you end up like Sunday when you both confront Gallagher

- Jingliu adores her partner

- Naturally, the other 4 members of the quintet love you aswell-you often hangout with eachother

- Jing Yuan tells you stories about Jingliu on missions, Yinqing is quiet yet you both chat about smaller things like food or tea, Dan Feng is most likely the busiest out of the 4

- Around the Quintet Jingliu doesn’t mind if you hug her, hold her waist, hold hands or even kiss

- Most likely she’ll have her arm around your waist to keep you close

- Other than the quintet, she generally doesn’t do any actions of PDA except hand holding (+ an occasional kiss)

- She actually isn’t a jealous person, even if she is (which never happens), shes great at hiding how she truly feels

- With her, you’ll wake up to her arms around you, forcing you to sleep and stay with her longer

- One adorable thing she does is she always kisses you on the forehead before leaving for a mission

- As she returns from a mission, she is often tired and loves to cuddle you

- In those moments shes a small spoon-but usually Jingliu perfers being the big spoon

——————————————————————————

[multifariousqueer]

The talk-Logan Howlett x Reader

A/n: oml the brainrot I have for this man is insane. Feel free to request imagines for this man. 😍😍

Warnings: talks of pregnancy, fluff, fiancé!Logan, idk I think that’s it.

Rain pattered against the windowsill of your shared cozy cabin up East. It was another night of waiting for Logan to return home from X men business and you couldn’t wait to see him; you had news that one of your friends was pregnant and that you were going to be an aunt. Your heart thumped in your chest as you heard your security system go off(ever since Logan joined the X men, he wants to make sure the only good thing[you] in his life is safe) and the sound of heavy boots entering through the door:

“Hey baby I’m home” he said. Logan always felt reassured when he walked through the front door because he knew that everything he needed and wanted was there. The house was always warm with candlelight and something amazing being made.

You had cooked dinner and set the table. All he needed to do was wash his hands and sit down.

“Hey honey! Oh my gosh I missed you”. You chirped as you rushed into his embrace. A hug seemingly lasting for centuries despite it being no longer than thirty seconds quickly melting all stress and worry from Logan’s frame.

Logan smiled down at you and kissed your forehead, resting his on top of yours.

“I missed you too, bub. How was your day?” Logan said. Even after almost dying, he was so thoughtful.

This wasn’t new for Logan and you however, he was always quick to ask about you before you asked about him(although don’t get me wrong, you still asked). This could’ve been due to PTSD or maybe just a natural occurrence in your relationship but either way, you both weren’t complaining.

“OMG YOULL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENED!!” You shouted

“hm?” Logan asked, still holding his position on your forehead as you stood there for a minute taking each other in.

“IM GONNA BE AN AUNT AND YOURE GONNA BE AN UNCLE!!” You shouted again.

The news genuinely shocked Logan as he never pegged your friend for being the “parent” type. She was always sweet to him and seemed responsible enough but something made him feel offput. Maybe it was the fact that you guys were talking about children the other day or about how you two always talked about having kids but he felt a twinge of jealousy at this news.

“That’s great, baby” he said through gritted teeth

“What’s wrong?” You picked up on the shift immediately. He was your fiancee after all.

“Nothing” he said, trying his best to hide his displeasure

“Something. Tell me, baby” you cooed.

“It’s just…everyone’s getting pregnant except for us. I’m happy to be an uncle but I want to be a dad, you know?” He said honestly. This was one of the few times that Logan actually expressed himself and his emotions without shutting down. Needless to say, this might not happen again.

“I know, bubs. It’ll be our time soon but between you, the X-Men, our jobs… we just need to focus on each other right now. It’ll happen when it happens but have each other for the time being” you expressed.

A long pause permeated the room. Fear rang through your heart as the worst scenarios played through your mind. What if he shut down again? What if this turned him off? What if’s shot through your head as it was immediately turned down by a gruff voice:

“you’re right. I need to focus on you and me. I shouldn’t have brought it up” he said, remorsefully.

“No no no! Please bring it up but we just need to look at both sides of the coin right now. Okay?” You said reassurangly

“okay” he said with a small smirk on his face.

You both went to the table and made his plate before eating and going to bed. Nights and talks like this are what made you fall for him, the simplicity of complicated conversations and the calm demeanor’s of you both made you want to give him the child you both wanted.

*1 year later*

Tears flooded the corners of your eyes as the test in your hand showed two pink lines.

“Logan!!!” you said, your voice breaking with happiness.

“Yeah baby?” He asked standing by the door.

“Are we ready?” You laughed.

Logan smiled and shook his head before speaking:

“I think so bubs, I think so”



[drugsorgasmsandcheese]

to kiss and to die | l. howlett

old man!logan howlett x fem!grim reaper!reader

description: in which death has never been so peaceful

warnings: logan’s death, angst, fluff, not beta read, pics used are not mine and were found on pinterest, the use of one latin word so if it’s badly translated i do apologise.

word count: 2084

he was used to people on the richer side of town booking his limousine service. it was a limousine service, after all. so logan didn't think much of anything when he pulls up outside of a penthouse building and a young woman steps into the car, giving her name to confirm she ordered the service.

when logan confirms, she smiles and closes the door behind her. she screams money, but old money. there's class about her and the way she holds herself. back straight as she sits, one leg crossed over the other and her head held up high. he can't help but take her in. he's never been one to care about the likeness of a lady a woman could be, but there is beauty that radiates off her, that is her, that logan can't seem to shake.

her head is turned to look out to the window, gazing upon the lights of the city that never sleeps. she seems observant in the way she looks, like not a single detail could be missed by her and she wouldn't allow it if it slipped by. logan's eyes slip down to the outfit she wears: a short black dress with a slit in its side, a pair of sheer black tights, black leather heeled boots that hugged her calves, and a black leather trench coat. she's slick, she's elegant, she holds herself high and with might.

as he drives, he approaches a red light. the woman takes the time to pull out a compact mirror, reapplying her lip liner followed by a clear gloss. when she's done, she smacks her lips and places the items away. "you're a hard man to find, logan howlett."

logan's eyes snap up into the rear-view mirror as he starts the limousine up again. his name on her lips is like honeyed venom, he can't quite decipher the emotion that lingers in him when she speaks of him like she knows him. his hands clench on the wheel as he drove, keeping the ride smooth as he turns a corner.

"who are you?" he asks, his voice gravelly and gruff just like his appearance, eyes flicking between hers and the road.

the woman smiles softly, an odd reassurance about it as she does so. "a mutant, just like you." she speaks, honeyed tone never dropping.

teeth snarl at her response. "that's not an answer." he's lived what feels like a thousand lifetimes, and he knows that even people like him aren't to be trusted.

"'the reaper.'" there's a knowing look on her face as she, the reaper, confirms her identity.

mutants knew her, the stories and legends that were a tale as old as time itself. a mutant that dealt the card of death, one who escorted mutants into the afterlife, who resurrected those she believed were not quite done with living. she was all four horsemen of the apocalypse, a woman that wielded so much power the world was her sandbox. nothing more to play with. to see her was like to see a ghost - blink and she's gone.

his jaw clenches tightly. "and what do you want from me?" logan all but growls out.

"you seek me out. why?" she questions with such poise in her character that it's hard for logan to differentiate between talking to death and indulging in his own delusions.

her questions hangs in the air for a moment or two, it's not like either one are keeping count. he can't find the words, he's never been good with them. he's harsh, he's a brute, a killing machine. when is there time to talk when you're killing yourself by killing another?

but there's a security in her presence. she's reassuring, it's peculiar. he's face to face with death and logan's never felt so settled. "i'm old, and i'm tired. there's nothing left for me here."

the way she smiles at him was a comfort in his own as he pulls up to her destination, the limousine coming to a stop. "there's plenty left for you, logan." she sits forward, and logan only notices how she never wore her seatbelt. he supposed she didn't have to. "just because you are at war, doesn't mean you can't find peace."

there's always the discussion of god being all-knowing, but what of death? what of the reaper who knows your story, who escorts you to the place you shall forever remain. death knows, she knows.

the woman pulls out a slick, black business card that's tucked between her pointer and middle finger, handing it to logan. he takes it so gently that he scares himself. he's a brute and yet he's gentle when the time comes. it appears to just be a simple black card, but even with his weakened vision, he can feel the indents in it. 'THE REAPER.'

"no one understands pain better than death." she says and logan's eyes are still fixated on the card.

death, such a simple term given the complexity and intensity of the situation. of him, of her. the words ring out in his head, no one understands pain better than death.

his gaze snaps up, his expression stoic but calm, like he's accepting whatever fate she'll grant him. he watches as she leans forward and places her hand on his cheek. he never expected death to be so warm.

"don't be what they made you." she whispers, and he lets out a sigh in content, in relief. the weight of his regrets and his lost humanity have hung on him heavily, his shoulders finally being lifted.

it's been a long time since logan's been touched. he doesn't even know if he's ever been held like this, cradled almost. to be looked at in such understanding. solitude and loneliness have kept him a shell. he chased it out, leaning into her touch, and it's like she can see him. the guilt, the regret, the pain.

"that's all i am. that's all i know." logan replies. his voice is strained, like the battle he's fought against himself, in his mind, has finally come to light.

her thumb runs across his cheek slowly, brushing against his grey beard. "if death is what you wish, logan, don't let it be a slow one. you've been tortured long enough." her eyes lock onto his. "good men don't deserve to be tortured, and you are a good man. you are a man, not the soldier, or the monster, or the weapon they forced you into being."

logan's expressions softens at her words. and, for the first time in his life, he's being given a choice. the choice to die. not as a weapon, a monster, a soldier, but as a man.

his hand reaches up, brushing over her own cheek. death is warm. there's an intimacy behind it that he's craved for so long that logan feels like he's falling apart from the inside out, and it's different from how he's felt before.

"you have my card, use it. death is everywhere, logan, and so am i."

the feeling of human connection. he craves it. being secluded and a shell of himself has made him overwhelmed as their skin touches. "death," he murmurs, his voice hoarse and gruff like it always is "and you."

she nods, her lips twitching. "take care of yourself, superstes, it's not your time just yet." she finishes and pulls away, stepping out of the limousine and leaving logan entrapped within his mind. not at war, but at peace.

—

the next time logan sees the reaper is at the funeral. it’s expected, mutant reaper or not she’s bound to turn up when one dies. but he also knows it’s because his fingers had subconsciously stroked the sleek business card in his pocket.

she lingers by his side and he feels himself reaching out, grasping onto her hand and she returns to the touch. death is warm. their fingers interlock, and it’s a reassurance that she gives him like she did last time. like she can read his thoughts.

it’s not your time just yet.

the thought makes him reach into his pocket, fingers itching to grace the adamantium bullet he’s carried like his guilt for years but he can’t find it. it’s then that he realises the weight that settles in between their hands and he looks at her.

she still wears that leather trench coat, and a part of logan wonders if that’s her very own black cloak. it suits her, if it is. the air of sophistication, of elegance still surrounds the reaper, and another part of logan wonders if she’s always been like this, or if there was a time when she succumbed to her powers and became a beast like he had.

the reaper’s gaze meets logan’s, that same soft smile gracing her lips. “not just yet.” she speaks and logan nods, hand squeezing hers. human connection.

she stays with logan when gabriela lopez approaches him, and a part of her seems to physically soften at the sight of the woman. when he questions her about it later, she only responds with a question of her own. “what did i tell you?”

it takes a few seconds to recall. he can’t tell if it’s from the old age so his brain has wore down, or if he was so focused on being touched and looked at like he was understood that he forgot her words, until it clicks. “death is everywhere, and so are you.”

and all the reaper does is nod, not another word spoken. but she was the one who pushed for logan to accept the job of escorting laura, and he didn’t know why. but there is something so alluring about death that he couldn’t say no.

the reaper stays by logan’s side awhile longer, her scythe hanging over him like a thread. there’s a time when her fingers trace the scars over his skin that his weakened healing has failed to take care of of, and the word is uttered from her lips again: “superstes.”

he’s not quite sure what it means, what language it is, but she looks into his eyes as she says it. not at the scars, but at him. and it touches his soul.

there’s another time in the kitchen. the couple who had graced them into their homes after the accident, where it’s just them. there’s the slow music in the kitchen, and if his old self remembers correctly, it’s ‘dream a little dream of me.’

logan’s leant against the counter as the reaper approaches, taking his hand in hers; an offer. he’s reluctant at first, he’s not really one for dancing, but death is so tempting. the weight of the adamantium bullet in his pocket, the way she follows him everywhere.

his calloused hand slips into hers, and it’s not really dancing. they sway on their feet, her clutched close to his chest and his chin rests on top of her head. death is warm, and this is the human connection he has longed for for so long. he wants it to linger, to last longer, he needs it like a beggar, and logan is willing to get on his knees if he has to.

but when x-24 arrives, she’s as good as gone.

—

he meets the reaper again, and it’s like a setback in time the way her hand is outstretched in front of her, and the words escape from her lips in a promised whisper: “it’s your time, superstes.”

logan looks down at her hand and he smiles. it’s genuine, just like the one in his final moments, and he takes the reaper’s hand without a single moment of hesitation.

even in death, she is a warm embrace.

he holds her close to his chest, and logan can’t help but sway like the lyrics are behind them, and the reaper chuckles, following his movements. his head dips down, nose brushing against hers and logan lets out a sob. peace, all he’s ever wanted, has finally settled down upon him. in his death as he held laura’s hand, he knew what it felt like. to be at peace, to be loved, to die.

now, as he places a gentle kiss on the reaper’s lips, he knew what it was like to be loved by death, to find peace with death, to be kissed by death.

death is warm. death is beautiful. death is peace. death is…all a man like logan has ever wanted.

[wheresarizona]

Thunder (only happens when it’s rainin’)

summary: In the middle of the night, during a bad thunderstorm, Javier helps you through a fear-induced panic attack. 

rating: T (Javier POV, age gap (about ten years), Husband Javier Peña, panic attack (physical descriptions only), emotional hurt/comfort, Javier calming you down, thunderstorm, banter, domestic fluff, suggestive mention of Javier’s dick, Javier offering to help you fall back asleep by either reading you The Fellowship of the Ring or a smutty book)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (a nurse with no physical descriptions)

word count: 1.2k+

a/n: This can be read as a standalone or part of the Learning to Live ‘verse—in LTL, it takes place a few months after their wedding. This one goes out to the anon who asked how Javi would help Cielito through a panic attack. He’d use this method or a variation of it any time she has a panic/anxiety attack. This is unbeta’d; all mistakes are my own. 

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Laredo, Texas - April, 1999

The window-shaking boom of thunder isn’t what has Javier jolting awake in bed and bolting upright to turn on his bedside lamp. It’s the blood-curdling scream beside him that’s like a shot of adrenaline with how it wakes him from the dead of sleep with his heart pounding and has him blearily looking around the dimly lit room for any sign of danger. 

Their bedroom door is still closed, and there are no intruders; rain can be heard battering against their windows, and when he focuses on his wife next to him, she’s also sitting up, worry cutting through him at how her breaths are coming out too fast and shallow as she hyperventilates, and tears stain her cheeks—she’s having a panic attack, triggered by the storm. Where she grew up, it rains the majority of the year, but they don’t have many thunderstorms, unlike right now when it’s Spring in Texas and severe weather season—it’s not the storms that scare her; it’s the loud noise that gets her. 

He’s scooting closer to her, pressing his big palm to her shirt-covered back, rubbing little circles, his voice husky and soft as he says, “We’re okay, Cielito—you’re okay.” Javier reaches with his other hand to take her smaller one into his, putting it on his bare chest over his heart where he knows she can feel it thudding. “Focus on me, baby—look at me.” Her head turns his way, and he’s met with panicked eyes and glistening cheeks. “Feel my heartbeat. You feel how it’s beating?” She’s still breathing too fast. “Focus on the beat—you feel it?” he asks again, and she looks at their hands. “Thud, thud, thud…” he repeats at the same rhythm of his heart. 

The therapist he’s been seeing for a while now taught him some techniques for when he has his occasional panic attacks, and right now, he’s trying to help ground her.

“See,” he says. “I’m right here, baby—you’re okay. I promise we’re gonna get through this. What are five things you can see?” 

“You,” she answers between heavy breaths.

“There’s one.” 

“Hand...” Her eyes move down. “Blanket…” Her head turns toward their bedroom door. “Door… Dresser...” 

“That’s it, Cielito.” He’s still rubbing her back reassuringly. “Tell me four things you can hear.” 

“You…” she says. “Fan…” Their small fan on his dresser by the door they use for white noise at night. “Rain…” Thunder rumbles in the distance, and her body tenses, a small whimper leaving her, and Javier’s hand on her back moves to hug her against him. She whispers, “Thunder…” 

“It’s moving away, baby,” he tells her. “Sounds like it just passed by. You’re doing so good for me—name three things you can touch.” She’s beginning to calm down, her breathing is slowing. 

“You…” There’s movement under the sheets of her wiggling her feet. “Blankets… Me.” 

“Good.” He kisses the side of her head. “What are two things you can smell?” 

“You… Candle…” They had a vanilla-scented candle burning before they went to bed.

Her breaths even out, and he knows she’s focused on him based on her answers. 

“There we go.” The following crack of thunder is so quiet that it’s barely heard over the rain outside and the whirring of their fan. “I think the worst of it is over—tell me one thing you can taste.” 

He’s sitting close enough to her that the sides of their bodies are touching. He’s got one arm around her back, keeping her against him, and his other hand still holding hers over his heart. 

Her face turns his way, and she lightly bites his shoulder, speaking with her mouth open, “You.”

Yeah, she’s calmed. He smiles. 

“Do I taste good, mi amor (my love)?” 

She’s still biting him. “Yes.” 

“Are you feeling better?” 

“Yes.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help you fall back asleep?”

Her mouth finally leaves him, and she meets his gaze, her eyes rounded. “Can I lay on your chest while you read to me?” 

Something she enjoys and relaxes her. 

He leans in to kiss her tenderly and asks against her lips, “Fellowship of the Ring—” What he’s currently re-reading for probably the thirtieth time. “—or whatever that book is you were reading last night that got you so hot and bothered you begged for my dick?” 

She broke away to look at him once more, and he let go of her hand to use his thumb to wipe away the remnants of the tears from her cheek. 

“As great as it’d be to have you narrate my smut,” she replies, “it’s gotta be Lord of the Rings ‘cause I am so fucking tired, like so tired, and queasy—I think I’m getting whatever that bug is that’s going around the hospital—" She’s a nurse at the local hospital. “—and I really don’t appreciate the stupid thunderstorm interrupting my beauty sleep.” 

Her answer makes him frown, and he presses the back of his fingers to her forehead. 

“You don’t feel warm…” he says. That doesn’t mean she isn’t coming down with something. “I’ll stop by the store on my way home tomorrow and pick up stuff to make you caldo.” The soup his mom always made when he or his dad were sick.

“That’d be nice, but,” she emphasizes, “food has been pretty hit or miss over the last week, so if it makes me puke, I swear on my ABBA Souper Trouper record—” Her favorite and most prized that she’s had since its release in 1980. “—it has nothing to do with your mother’s recipe and is just whatever the fuck this sickness is.” 

“I know, baby,” he replies and kisses her forehead. “Let me fix the pillows, and I’ll read to you.” 

When he starts to move, her hand quickly grabs his arm to stop him, and he turns his attention back to her. 

“Javi?” 

“Yes, mi amor?” 

“Thank you for calming me down.” Her eyes dart away. “Texas summers are literally hell, but for all of the years I lived in Dallas before coming here, I hated Spring the most because of the storms—what I’m saying is this isn’t the first time thunder has woken me up in the middle of the night and caused me to freak out.” The thought of her alone and scared makes his chest ache, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could’ve been there with her. “It’s happened before,” she continues, “and I always had to ride it out on my own. So, thank you for being here and helping me. Don’t get me wrong, it majorly sucked, but it was nice not having to go through it alone.”

He caresses her cheek to make her look at him, and he smiles. “I can promise you, you’ll never have to go through it alone again. I’ll always be here to help you, just like how you’re always there when my brain’s being an asshole because I love you, Cielito.” 

She matches his look. “I love you, too, Javi.” She quickly pecked him on the lips. “Three months, and you continue to reign supreme as Husband of the Year.” 

“And am I living up to my other title?” 

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Which one? ‘Cause Sexiest Man Alive, yes, you’ve got ‘99 in the bag. God of Sex, also yes, and I remain your devoted devotee. And you’re definitely living up to being the Hunkiest Hunk to Ever Hunk; no one will ever be able to out-hunk you, babe.” 

“Good.” 

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

[nicarnelian]

furever with kaji!

₊˚⊹ featuring: kaji ren x gn! reader

₊˚⊹ summary: when you bring a cat to kaji’s apartment and ask his help in making a decent home for the feline, every request must come with an equivalent reward. for kaji, he thinks kisses are sufficient compensations to your requisition.

₊˚⊹ word count: 1.5k

₊˚⊹ warnings: tooth-rotting cringe fluff, grammar errors!

₊˚⊹ author’s note: binged frieren yesterday, and himmel and frieren occupied my mind, lived on it, rent free 24/7 for the past days! i’m also rewatching 86, bc shinlena are my ogs! anw, enjoy this kaji fic w cats bc i love cats (this is a shameless self-insert fic, if i think abt it) ;)))

kaji ren finds cats tolerable. well, actually, he considers them insignificant to his daily life, so he does not particularly hate them. the only moments where he would come into interaction with those little felines are when the townspeople would either ask him a favor, such as by catching them or feeding them, or when those cats would rub themselves on his feet and legs.

he doesn’t find them annoying though; he actually consider cats something that helps him calm down, shifting his attention to the little furry animals begging for rubs and pats, rather than the rowdy environment that encircled him. but, there were also times when the cats bite him out of affection, and kaji, knowing the person that he is, screams at the animal. afterwards, kaji would flinch as he watches the cat run away from him, feeling guilty as he looks down at the small strands of fur left on his pants.

after a couple of cat interactions, it would take probably another month or two when he would interact or touch a cat properly. all of these cat memories of kaji were brought up by the current situation between the two of you.

the second you knock on his apartment’s wood door, kaji unlocks it, knowing that you would be visiting him. he missed you, even though you do see each other after classes and during weekends. kaji has gotten clingy with you — the type of clingy that continues to seek the presence of the other, the type that opt to hear your voice rather than casual texts on the flat surface of his phone. but now, he kinda regrets opening the door for you. his gaze travels all around your figure, until it stops at a pint-sized, black and white animal that you hug near your chest.

he looks directly at your eyes, “why the hell is that in your arms?”

the both of you stand motionless, as no one dared to break eye contact. you wear a dumb smile on your lips as you giggle at your boyfriend’s statement. you lightly pet the small animal that leans into your touch. “it’s a kitten!”

“i know it’s a damned cat, but why the hell are you here, bringing a kitten in my apartment?!” kaji could not control the volume of his voice properly, causing him to step back as he realizes what he had done to you. you see the guilt in his eyes spreading, as if afraid of the possibility that he might have hurt you from his words. you quickly give a light smile to reassure him, letting him know it’s alright and he didn’t hurt you in any way with his words.

“well, i didn’t know where to bring it! the landlady at my place doesn’t like pets, so here i am!” you continue giving him that beaming grin of yours. kaji finds you insufferable — the way these walls he had built since he was a child quickly dwindle into nothingness when you forced yourself into his life, with that stupid, witless, yet stunningly delicate smile.

kaji notices how your face contorts to ever single emotion possible — from how your eyebrows furrow in seriousness to annoyance whenever you do your assignments , and how they quickly crumple to relief whenever he says the simplest of motivational quotes that he most probably looked up online since he was new to interacting like this.

in months of dating you, he wanted to know everything about you albeit being impossible — but, he was the type to make any possibility a reality. months into your relationship, he has put into immense effort into knowing you, and you reciprocated such actions from your boyfriend. and, it’s safe to say that both of you are still staying strong after almost a year of being with him.

you welcome yourself into his room, which kaji did not mind since he will always think that whatever that is his is also yours. you settle the cat on his chair, much to his dismay though. “hey! it’ll leave random fur!”

you pout at him, “i just need a box and some discarded fabric to make him a home for the meantime. you have some?” kaji knows how much you love cats, which is why he completely abides by your requests. but, of course, every request comes with a equal reward.

“i have some boxes and i plan to throw away some of my clothes…” he mumbles. you extend your hands at him, like a child asking for candy. kaji smirks.

he walks towards your direction, closing the distance as he draws his face near yours. you flinch at his actions due to how sudden and unpredictable kaji has become. you place your hands on his chest involuntarily, as your eyes lock on his pair of gray eyes as well. “w-what is it…?”

kaji doesn’t crack a smile, but instead, pouts. his index finger points towards the skin of his right cheek. you watch him tilt his head, as if showing the skin to you, and the words he uttered were something you had not even expect to hear in a thousand years. “k-kiss.”

you blink at him, as you could see the tips of his ears reddening from what he asked. he just asked… for a kiss? kaji ren? the boy who had always told you that you were insufferable was asking for a kiss?

“w-what?”

kaji’s face fumes into a shade of red, “n-nothing! never mind what i said, c’mere! as f-far as i remember, some of the b-boxes were underneath my bed! i’ll search for—“ kaji blabbers and stammers all over his words. am i going crazy? he, himself, could not believe he had just asked that from you.

kaji gasps when you clasp his entire face with your hands and peck the location of his cheeks that he was pointing earlier. he grabs your wrists as you continue littering his face with soft kisses. kaji feels like his world is spinning, his mind cloudy, his heart thumping so fast and his face burning red already.

you give him a final peck on his lips and smirk, “awww… are you perhaps kiss-deprived, ren? but don’t worry, i’ll kiss you anytime you want!” you beam at him, after seeing his flushed face. kaji doesn’t respond, which makes you somewhat worried.

“ren?”

his eyes stare at his room’s wooden floor, shoulders moving up and down. his bangs cover his eyes, leading you to simply call out his name multiple times until he slowly brings his gaze upwards to yours. you nervously chuckle at him, trying to break the silence between you both as he bores his eyes into you. “ren…?” you smile cautiously.

“you’re insufferable.” and, he closes the distance between your faces, kissing you harshly. it’s certainly not comparable to this kisses you’ve given him earlier, soft and teasing — his kiss is hungry, as if he’s deprived of water and your mouth is the sole salvation. it’s filthy and rough, but you fondle his lips with equal greediness.

you place your hands on both of his shoulders, balancing yourself at the height of the moment between you and kaji. you feel his tongue grazing your lips. he wraps his arms around your waist, one hand casually roaming your body until his fingers tangle with your hair and push you closer to him. it feels like forever — kissing him in a room that just encapsulates who he is: his scent, his mark, his hands that hold you tightly but not too tight, his eyes that only look at you. the entirety of kaji ren being yours and you being his feels like forever to you.

“meow!”

the both of you stop, heads snapping at the cat already purring at your entangled limbs. it’s almost involuntary how both you and kaji stare at each other and laugh as you wrap your arms around his neck. you feel his forehead press against yours as he whispers, “‘m sorry.”

“for what?” you lean your forehead against his. “nothing, just felt like it. since, you know, accidentally raised my voice on you earlier.” kaji smiles as his head finally drops to the intersection of your neck and shoulders, planting soft kisses on the bare skin.

you ruffle his head, “‘s fine. i know you didn’t mean it.” he hums in response to you.

“but for now, you have to help me make this cat’s home! i’ve given you lotsa kisses earlier, so i expect more help from you!” you poke his cheek, trying to force him to look at you. you wriggle away from his embrace, and kaji finally whispers in response to your statement.

“‘m willing to do anything for your kisses. i’m glad to do more even.” kaji smirks at you, causing you to smack his shoulder and ultimately breaking the hug. you’re glad that he’s finally trying to open up more, to talk more. you watch as he kneel towards the cat and let the cat sniff his fingers — a small introduction between kaji and the cat.

you want to savor the moment, and sure you do, because being with kaji ren feels like forever.

[yandere-kokeshi]

May I request Ghost, Nikolai, König, and Alejandro react if their female darling is so touch starved, but she’s been so abused by her family for being ‘too emotional’ or ‘too clingy’? She wants to hug him, but she then shy’s away trembling! Please and thank you!

— Yandere Ghost, Nikolai, König, and Alejandro with an extremely touch-starved female reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about past abuse, and slight mention of murder.

A/N: Definitely my type of troupe, enjoy darling!

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

It breaks his heart, because he can relate. He’s just as touch-starved, his thick scarred-skin and high walls built, was because of his ungodly horrible past. And he wants you to realize that it’s okay to be vulnerable, or even be shy about asking, because he’s the same way with you.

In a sense, Simon is persistent but in a slower way. He starts off easy, watching your reactions to see if you like how he touches you. And then proceeds with more ‘intimate’ touching.  

If he sees you a bit down, or worrying that you’re ‘too much’, Simon will undoubtedly pull you into his lap and tell you that you’re nothing like what your parents said. He begs that with his entire life. 

Starting off with slow shoulder touching, hands-in-hands, then thigh touching in the car or when you two are sitting down. Before it turns into hands on your hips when you’re both in the shower, his nose being stuck between the area around your neck and shoulder with warm kisses.

He doesn’t mind taking it slow — knowing you well enough to know where your boundaries are, and knowing not to overstep them, even without you explicitly stating them. But Simon does get a bit cocky when he sees you lean deeper into a hug, or shy away when he pecks you on the lips. He smirks, his calloused thumb rubbing over your chin as he guides you back into a deep kiss; mumbling if you want more.

—

Nikolai:

He’s upset — not at you, but at your awful parents. He shakes his head, mumbling in his mother tongue. He looks at you, obviously furious with your so-called ‘parents’. But now, he’s working with his time and energy pointing at you, and making sure to work for your lovely affection. 

Nikolai is very forward with his touching, and won’t let you walk away from him. He loves caressing your cheek, and if you turn away from his touch, he caresses the other. And if he sees you shy away, he tenfold his touches. He’s persistent in affecting you, grasping your lower back whilst talking to you, bringing you closer as his fingers pull your hair behind your ear, or give you a deep nose kiss.

Holding your fingers and playfully biting them when he sees you zone out. Or, kissing your forehead, all the way down to your neck before playfully biting, possibly leaving a small mark. 

Passionate nips on your neck as you get more heated during a make-out session. Which, he’s vocalized that he adores very much. 

Nikolai keeps pushing with his affection. Until you realize, without him actively telling you, that it’s okay to ask or even randomly touch him; as he accepts it with a large pride. It sends tingles down his back thinking of you taking control, and really wants you to be straight with him. 

And when you do? Either bringing him into a hug or a touch that’s a start, he doesn’t comment on it. But his heart certainly does; feeling it skip a beat. 

—

König:

Immediate anxiety, and wants to solve it fast. He’s visibly upset, fingers fidgeting as he grunts when you mention them — your parents — were the cause of it. He’s serious about protecting you, don’t you know that?

In all, König is upset. He understands what it’s like being touch-starved, stripped from previous experiences and being made fun of. Which, he’ll never ever do that. Instead, encourage you to step out of your rock state and come to him with small touches; even if he views them as ‘embarrassing’.  

He focuses all of his time and energy to make you feel comfortable and slowly get out of your shell. He’s done it, or at least trying it, so what’s going to hurt if the two of you work at it together? He does a lot of pinky-holding, squeezing your own pinky when he wants too or simply because he’s sending you a silent ‘I love you’. 

Loves laying his head on your lap. And if you feel confident enough to play with his hair, nails digging into his scalp, he’s in heaven. You can hear small breaths that sound like purrs, and he nudges himself closer to your stomach. 

He covers you when in the grocery store, small PDA touches with his mask and him leaning over you. He smiles when you smile and nudges you with his cheek. 

—

Alejandro “Colonel” Vargas:

Touching you is a big part of how Alejandro communicates, so he will have a bit of a hard time finding alternative ways to be with you. He tries to go soft with you, hands sliding over your curves and pulling you close to him as he nudges his nose into your neck. Easily showing you that he’s not backing off because you’re shy. 

Despite his need for affection, Alejandro is persistent in believing that boundaries are more important than anyone, so if you confide in him that you’re not used to receiving this sort of affections, he fully understands; being smug but yet a sweetheart about it when you reveal you’re not used to it. 

Much like the others — he’s extremely persistent with you. Hand around your waist, body flushed against his, kisses on the side of the head, and constant squishing with his hands. And being the huge romantic, he loves pulling you into a small kitchen-dance with your shyful state. 

He enjoys holding you in the mornings, especially if he has a short break from work. So he takes advantage of that, and if he sees you enjoying it, he smirks. Giving you warm but gentle kisses, hands grasping at your skin and letting you lay directly on top of him. 

Alejandro reassures you constantly that you’re not emotional or too clingy, in fact, he’ll openly say that he loves how affectionate you are when you can. That your parents are idiots for saying that, and if he needs to, something will happen to them.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2024 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Fiquei completamente apaixonada pelo imagine que você fez do Logan/Wade/Reader, queria muito outro assim, nada em especial, só mais sobre o relacionamento dos três (I'm really bad with requests, sorry)

(Rough translation by google: I was completely in love with the imagine you made of Logan/Wade/Reader, I really wanted another one like that, nothing in particular, just more about the relationship of the three) if it’s translated something within the request wrong, let me know.

Emotional support isn’t either Wade nor Logan’s strong suit. one made a massive joke out of everything, even his own feelings, while the other suppressed them unhealthily.

So needless to say if emotional comfort is what you were after, you were unfortunately out of luck but that didn’t mean that the pair were about to leave you to suffer alone during such a rough time in your life. Wade and Logan will find a way to help you anyway they could.

Wade would insist that you both have a spontaneous day where you’d do anything that came to your mind without judgment. You may or may not end up making dick cookies together in the kitchen whilst wearing your matching unicorn onesie pyjamas, covered in flour and other stuff.

Ass slaps -consensual of course- are a common occurrence between you, Wade and Logan…well mainly you and Wade…but Logan will gently tap your ass before kissing your forehead, meanwhile giving Wade the hardest slap that would leave a hand shape bruise that would last a week.

Cuddles are something that’s also frequent in your relationship with Wade and Logan but most -if not all- of the time you were in the middle of the both of them, leeching off of their warmth like the parasite you were but you were living the life.

Wade doesn’t care whether he’s the big or small spoon as either way he gets to be close to you in some capacity, where as Logan likes to be the big spoon so he could keep you safe and protected, always sleeping with his back to the door so that if anything were to happen they’d have to get through him.

Wade’s petnames for you are:

Cutie patootie with the booty

Peanut (something he also calls Logan)

Pookie/pookie bear

Sexiest person alive

Logan’s petnames for you are:

Darling

Sweetheart

That’s pretty much it as he’s not too overly worried about petnames, where as Wade has a thousand more up his sleeve that he pulls out of nowhere.

You and Wade would sometimes blatantly check out Logan whenever he’s shirtless and doing his one thing while you and Wade laid on the floor, feet kicking in the air as you both admired your hot partner. (Logan is very aware of what you two were doing but didn’t have it in him to say shit)

Dog pool is basically your, Logan and wades child and she is spoilt the fuck by the three of you for being the cutest dog you’ve ever seen. You dressed her up as Mary Poppins once for Halloween and now you have albums upon albums filled with pictures of dog pool in cute doggy costumes. This is her cannon event.

Logan has nightmares and would often act all cold and distant afterwards but you would gently grab his arm and pull him in for a comforting hug. ‘Don’t walk away,’ you said, ‘please we can figure this out together okay? You’ve been alone long enough, don’t for yourself to fall back into old habits when you’ve got two people who care deeply about you and want to see you okay.’ You add as you rub your hand up and down his back reassuringly until you manage to ease him back into bed and fall asleep on top of his chest so he doesn’t move.

You press kisses to Wade’s face and call him handsome, gorgeous, cutie, all sorts of names that have him feeling soft and fuzzy within his chest because he’s aware of how he looks, but you loved him unconditionally and would even help him with toupees and whatnot, though not before telling him that you find him attractive how he is and wouldn’t want him to change for anyone.

You got a lot of kisses and cuddles from him later because you had no right being that fucking cute!

[leclerc-hs]

lucky (bonus!) - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: in which you and your childhood best friend have sex for the first time. Warnings: BAD FRENCH! (I didn't get to check these translations so if they're wrong please correct me and I will fix!), smut, angst, cheating (oops) Word Count: 1,381 Author's Note: hi! I felt that Charles and Lucky having sex later in their friendship was the right move. I was in between making them younger, but it didn't feel right writing about teenagers having sex to me lmaoooo. I love you guys and hope that you enjoy!!! please leave feedback I love hearing from you all. xo PART 1 PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

HE WINS IN Spa; He wins in Monza!

The air was filled with a mix of adrenaline, joy, and the unmistakable scent of burnt rubber from the track. The vibrant red of the Ferrari flowed under the brilliant Italian sun, reflection the passion of this moment. The crowd’s cheers echoed, creating a symphony of celebration that seemed to envelop the entire circuit.

Your heart raced with a blend of pride and excitement, knowing that your best friend had achieved something extraordinary. The victory at the Ferrari home race was more than just a win; it was a triumph that would be etched in the annals of racing history.

Turning your attention to the podium, you marveled at the sight of your best friend standing tall, a champion stood above in the midst the cheering crowd. His racing suit adorned with the iconic prancing horse; he wore the victorious smile of someone who conquered not just the track but the hearts of fans worldwide.

The tears welled up in your eyes, a testament to the shared journey and countless hours of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice that led to this moment. You were so happy for him.

The podium ceremony unfolded with the spraying of champagne, and as the golden droplets shimmered in the sunlight, you couldn’t help but feel proud as you savored the moment completely. 

“Il s’est très bien debrouillé!” He did so well! You muttered to Lorenzo who greeted you with a big hug of excitement.

“Oui! You’re needed in his driver’s room,” Lorenzo responded with a smile. “Il m’a dit plus tôt.” He told me earlier. 

You patiently waited in his driver’s room, lounging on the compact leather couch. When the door swung open at last, with his race suit unzipped at his waist, you leaped to your feet with excitement. 

You cried out, “Mon dieu, Charlie!” My God, Charlie! before leaping right into his arms, clinging onto him tightly. “Je suis tellement fiere de toi!” I am so proud of you!

He felt his heart pound rapidly as you leaped into his arms. He wanted to tell you right then and there that he was in love with you.

“Nous devons célébrer!” We must celebrate! You waited for him to place you back down on your feet, but he never did. At least not as soon as you thought he would. He just held you there, staring at you as if you were the sun.

“My Lucky,” he says. “It’s all because of you.”

It was quick. One second, he was smiling at you as he held you up against him, and the next you were pressed against the door with his lips on yours. You felt your stomach clench from the heat of the kiss.

“Est-ce que c’est bon?” Is this okay? You nodded into the kiss. Yes – yes it’s okay. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. In fact, it wasn’t supposed to happen at all. You both could blame it on the fact that he just won a major race or the rush of emotions from the win. But it was just love. Not that either of you would ever admit it.

His hips had you pinned to the wall, completely at his mercy, while his hands fumbled with the button of your jeans. “Puis je les enlever?” Can I take these off?

You didn’t provide a verbal response; instead, you assisted by pushing the jeans down and shimmying out of them. His fingers immediately nudging their way past your cotton panties and hooking two of them right into your center as his thumb rubbed your clit in quick circles.

“Tu es tremée,” You’re soaked. He moaned into your mouth, the vibration of his groan echoing hotly into your mouth.

You moaned back softly into his. Your moans alone were enough to send Charles into a rampage. He wanted to listen to you for eternity. It was in this moment, he thought he never wanted to hear anything else from your mouth again.

You skillfully removed his race suit from his hips before he guided you to the same compact sofa you just waited patiently on. His lips never left yours as you both fell to the couch – you now straddling him. 

You both were so frantic. So needy. The only time your mouths separated was for him to whisper the foulest things. They only fueled you to ride him harder.

You’re so fucking tight.

Just like that.

Squeezing me like you’re going to come, Lucky.

Such a good girl.

C’mon let me feel you come.

I can feel how fucking wet you are.

You both came simultaneously, heavy breaths exchanged into each other’s mouths. It was so hot.

The suddenness of it all left you breathless, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. One second, his tongue was pushing its way into your mouth again. The next, you were pushing him away, standing up from the couch as you rushed to find your jeans and get them back on.

The reality began to sink in, a shadow over the fleeting moment. He has a girlfriend, a detail that changed the complexion of the situation. You felt sick to your stomach as the reality began to weigh down on you.

Although the term girlfriend was a bit of a stretch, you felt awful. But you didn’t regret it. You could never regret anything with Charles. He was your person. Your best friend. 

“Nous ne pouvons pas refaire ça.” We can’t do this again.

“Lucky.” His arms, once a source of comfort, now felt like constraints as he grasped you. The taste of his kiss lingered, but it was overshadowed by the bitter understanding that boundaries have been crossed.

You yearned for a different reality where his girlfriend didn’t exist, but the weight of the truth remained. Accepting, you grappled that some things were beyond your control. 

“Cha, c’est bien.” It’s okay.  With a heartfelt effort, you mustered up the biggest smile, gently cupping his face into your hands. Despite your warm gesture, his eyes reflected a sadness, a longing for something more, a desire that he couldn’t act upon. 

“Tu es mon meilleur ami.” You’re my best friend. “Nous oublierons que cela s’est produit.” We will forget that this happened.

Charles shook his head in disagreement at first, but you stopped him. You needed to shift the conversation. You were supposed to be out celebrating. “Nous devons célébrer!” We must celebrate!

You urged Charles to get dressed quickly. You needed to get out of the confines of this room.

Physically, Charles nodded with a smile, but internally, he felt nothing but pain in his heart. It’s always been you. He wanted to yell that she means nothing to him, that it’s you who means everything. 

“Allons-y,” Let’s go. You grabbed his hand, leading him out of the driver’s room to kick off your night of celebration, leaving the pressing issues behind. Pretending as if nothing changed. He was your best friend. You were his best friend. Nothing changed.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

Charles found it unbearable. The attention you were attracting was driving him to the brink of madness as he sat in the booth of the club, with his girlfriend beside him.

“C’est toujours elle,” It’s always her. She leaned over into Charles ear. 

His so-called girlfriend wasn’t oblivious, like he thought. She always picked up on his gaze following you, his constant talk about you, and the fact you were consistently his top priority. Initially, she shrugged it off, given your close friendship. It only became apparent to her when she sensed that your needs started taking precedence over hers. 

She couldn’t even pretend to ignore the marks on his neck. 

“Quoi?” What? Charles finally glanced at her, breaking free from his trance on you. It only prompted laughter from her, evidence that his attention was solely fixed on you. He heard her though. He just didn’t want to acknowledge that he had been caught.

“You’re wasting my time,” his girlfriend muttered before standing up, grabbing her things to leave. “If you want her, tell her.” These were the final words she uttered to Charles before exiting the club, leaving him behind.

But little did she know that he had attempted to share his feelings for you numerous times. It just never worked out. The timing was always off. 

[noodlesfics]

Demon Slayer characters when you kiss for the first time

Tanjiro

He was very shy when starting the kiss, however, it seemed to flow very naturally between the two of you. Almost like you had been doing this for many years before. He made sure that he had his hands on either side of your face to make you as comfortable as possible. When you broke apart, he gave you a little peck on the nose and voiced his love for you whilst still holding your face.

Zenitsu

Blushing like crazy for the whole thing. Poor boy was a stuttering and blushing mess before, during and after you shared your first kiss. 9/10 chance that he almost faints when you break apart. It's become his new hobby that he likes to indulge in, however, he likes to make sure that each kiss he gives you is very special.

Inosuke

It was a bit awkward and sloppy due to him not having the slightest bit of knowledge on the subject. He kept asking you if he was doing it right and if he was winning, obviously making it a competition. With it being your first together, it was very sweet, enjoying the moment and being close with one another. After this, he has absolutely no sense of PDA and will just kiss you wherever and whenever.

Rengoku

It's very romantic and has you both feeling dizzy after. It was a slow kiss, one that allowed you to appreciate each other and sense each others emotions. He would have an arm around your waist and the other hand cradling your face as he gently kisses you. He knows he's a strong man and he's scared that he might hurt you, therefore meaning that he gives the most gentle and passionate first kiss.

Uzui

He's so smug. He's wanted to do it for so long that he gets a bit carried away and didn't put to much effort into making it special. At first, it was very chaotic as he didn't have a full grasp of his control but he did manage to slow down and hold you close to him. It definitely turned very passionate and he was not afraid if someone were to see you both in such a vulnerable state.

Giyuu

He's super shy when you kiss for the first time. However, that doesn't mean that his smile will vanish from his red face. He loved feeling how soft you were and appreciating your presence so close to him. Definitely hugs you after and buries his face into your neck, he's usually very reserved but every time you kiss him, he turns into a completely different person.

Sanemi

It was a bit of a rough kiss at first. Almost like he was trying to prove a point to you or something. But when he was used to the feel of your kissing, he learned to be more gentle with you. When he leaves to do this, kissing is something that you really both enjoy and do a lot more frequently. Your first kiss was a bit of a roller-coaster but it only went uphill form there.

Mitsuri

She definitely giggled a lot. She was so excited to finally kiss you that she was practically screaming! Your first kiss together was really tender and you both loved every second of it. She made sure that it was in a really romantic setting to make you feel more special. Now every time you kiss, she brags about it to everyone else.

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. XII

going forward, I will be changing a lot of events. ik GRRM HATES to see me coming. Some will be small, others will be big. I want Daenys to play a much bigger role in the Dance, and take creative liberties on stuff the show did not show us or stuff that would be in s3.

tags: @beebeechaos @r-3dlips @emery-aka-emmy @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @hueanhdang @purple-1995 @fall-winter-heart97 @thelastemzy @saintkittykat @littleblackcatinwonderland @pedro-pascal-love @reyndaisy @theadharablack @thatkindofgurl @alexandra-001 i missed y'all its been almost a week

When Daenys learned that Corlys, her grandsire, was severely injured and may be on his deathbed, she was distraught. Her main concern wasn't for Corlys, she knew that since he survived such a brutal attack to his throat, he would endure well. Salt and sea, the Velayron man was. The sea did not take him that day, nor would it for many years. She did not forsee it, nor did she feel the impending doom of death when she thought of him.

The impending doom did not come from Corlys, who lie in a comatose state in Driftmark, but from Vaemond Velayron. The aura of black and blue surrounded him like a defensive shield, striking out when another got near. Never married or siring any legitimate children, Vaemond only cared for himself and his power-hungry interests.

While she resented being forced to come along to King's Landing while Rhaenyra defended Luke's claim to Driftmark, she was glad to support her brother. If anyone would make a good leader, it would be Lucerys.

She was vulnerable here, in the snakepit that was the capitol. Even in the crowd surrounding the throne, filled with the people who would testify either for or against Lucerys' claim, she felt many different eyes on her.

Alicent Hightower, her soft brown eyes hardened at the sight of Rhaenyra and her children. Every time Daenys glanced her way, even briefly, she looked down upon the younger lady with a scornful sneer. Similar looks were cast to Rhaenyra, who clutched her boys protectively. Daemon stood next to his wife, in between Daenys and Rhaenyra, respectively. An amused smile was placed on his lips during the whole precession.

Aegon Targaryen, who's gaze flitted around the room in ever-increasing boredom. Occasionally, he stared at Daenys, but with a blank look in his eyes that gave away his zoned out mind. He would rather be anywhere but here.

Helena Targaryen, who Daenys missed greatly in their time apart. Ravens had not been enough, she missed her company. Whenever Daenys met Helena's eyes, the bored look that Helena also held brightened, and she smiled across the aisle at her niece.

Aemond Targaryen, who's one eye had not left Daenys the whole time. The dark purple hue seemed to be a void of emotion, with Aemond giving away none of his feelings on his face. He had grown taller and leaner since their time in Driftmark. A true dragonrider. Daenys had only sent him one letter, apologizing profoundly for Luke's actions, sending him an embroidered eyepatch for good measure. An image of Vhagar, though condensed greatly to fit on the small black leather canvas. Aemond had never sent any letters back, to her knowledge. Perhaps he was looking at her with blame and distain, an emotion he didn't hide while looking at Daenys' brother.

Across the aisle, a ways behind Vaemond, who stood in the middle, Rhaenys stood with her ward Baela and her twin Rhaena. Through the years, Daenys had grown much closer to Rhaena since she had lived on Dragonstone with Daemon and them. They had grown to become true sisters, a strong connection between the two. Rhaena was quiet compared to her twin but grew more outgoing during her years at Dragonstone. Baela, during her ward with their grandmother, unfortunately grew distant with her sister and father unintentionally.

Rhaenys greeted Daenys with a hug and kissed the young girl's head during their walk inside the Red Keep. They exchanged many letters after Laenor's passing, bond growing from their mutual loss. Rhaenys was quite lonely, only having Baela on Driftmark for company while Corlys was out at sea for years at a time.

When Otto Hightower summoned Rhaenyra to vie for her son's claim, she began strong.

"I would start by reminding you all that twenty years ago, in this very room—"

The grand doors opened, revealing a guard who announced, "King Viserys Targaryen; King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the realm."

The court held their breath while Viserys staggered down the aisle. Bedridden for years, Viserys had not attended court in half a decade. Daenys grimaced at the sight of her grandsire, though she refused to look away respectfully. Alicent and her father stiffened at the sight of Viserys, thinking that they had the processesion going exactly the way they planned—in their favor.

Viserys would defend his firstborn, no matter what.

Rhaenyra gave her father a grateful look, relief coming from her in waves as she stood back to her original spot. The rest of Rhaenys' and Viserys' words were tuned out to Daenys. All she cared for was the betrothal announcements between her brothers and stepsisters. The rest was useless, knowing that Viserys would establish Luke as heir to driftmark firmly and without question.

Vaemond's yell tore her from her thoughts. "Her children...are BASTARDS!" He screamed to the courts, making Luke and Jace flinch in Rhaenyra's hold.

Daenys shuffled uncomfortably next to Daemon, while he stepped subtlely in front of her. "Say it." He hissed out quietly, urging Vaemond on as he clutched Dark Sister's black pommel.

Vaemond took the bait, turning to Rhaenyra spitefully. "And she. is. a whore." Every word was enunciated strongly.

Viserys, wheezing, stood from the Iron Throne with his dagger clutched in his bony hand. "I will have your tongue for that."

A sudden 'splat!' caught everyone's attention first. Helena gasped, covering her ears and shutting her eyes tight at the bloody sight. Daemon had cut off Vaemond's head, leaving it to drop to the floor, followed by the rest of his body. Daenys held a gag at the sight and smell of fresh blood, turning her eyes away from the gore.

Aemond, across from her, finally lifted his pursed hips into a smirk, eye gleaming at he stared at Daemon.

"Seize his weapons!" Otto Hightower demanded, though Daemon was swift to clean off his sword and sheath it again.

"No need." He said as if nothing had happened.

When Viserys started to shake and wheeze again, attentions were transfixed to the King once more. "Fetch the maesters!" Alicent called out, genuine concern cracking her voice. Perhaps the once good thing about the Queen was her love for her family and husband.

Rhaenyra ushered her kids out swiftly, leaving the room behind. Passing her uncles and aunt, Daenys glanced briefly towards each one.

Aegon finally held an amused expression, looking around the room for reactions and having no concern for his father's condition.

Helena, still covering her ears and turned from Vaemond, followed after Daenys.

Aemond held her stare as she passed, though he did not move so much as a muscle.

Daenys split from her mother and grandmother, telling them she would return for supper. Supposedly, the Hightower-Targaryen family would sup all together for the first time in years after Viserys rested.

Helena led her niece to a spacious and well-lit room by the hand. The floor was littered with toys, though it still appeared clean. Daenys gasped, met with the sight of two white-haired children quietly playing together on a rug.

Helena proudly smiled, removing her other hand from her ear finally and squeezing Daenys' hand. "This is Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. I know I've written to you about them, but I wished for you to meet them, too."

Daenys nodded enthusiastically, earning the attentions of the twins below. Helena and Daenys kneeled together, quite in sync for two ladies who have spent years apart, to greet them.

Daenys introduced herself as 'Aunt Daenys' although she was technically not. Jaehaera seemed to accept the new presence immediately, holding out a wooden wolf for Daenys to take and play with her, another carving of a dragon clutched in her other chubby palm.

Jaehaerys was decidedly more shy, crawling into his mother's lap while he watched his twin and aunt play. Daenys delighted in the activity, knowing her little brothers must be lonely back at Dragonstone, only in the company of their nursemaids. Helena and her chatted through the rounds of playing while Jaehaera dug through a box of toys, inviting Jaehaerys to pick new ones with her.

Hours passed and well into the afternoon, as Helena and Daenys took turns switching off embroidery pieces to find ways to continue each other's art and add to it (their little tradition since they were both young girls). Both were saddened to hear that they were summoned for supper, eager to finish their work before the day ended. Helena's original work was a centipede, Daenys had continuted the piece by making it weave through a field of grass and flowers. Daenys' started with a blue dragon, much like Dreamfyre, and Helena added a snowy white one intertwined with it, a likeness to Morningstar.

"Perhaps I could convince mother to stay an extra few days in the Red Keep, and return on my own on dragonback." Daenys offered Helena as they walked.

She hated the Keep, but never knew how much she truly missed Helena's company until she spent time with her again. She would bear a few nights here, knowing she could avoid everyone and only spend time in the nursery. Daenys was older now, a woman grown. Surely she could handle such things better.

"I should like that," Helena murmured, arms interlaced with Daenys as they walked towards the table. It was only half-filled with members of their family. A spot was left in the very middle for Viserys, occupied on the sides of his space by Alicent and Rhaenyra.

Aemond sat at one head, while Luke and Rhaena took the opposite.

The table seemed to naturally divide by sides, though Daenys chose to sit between Helena and Aemond rather than next to Jace, lest she also be forced next to Aegon.

Alicent offered to pray before they ate, to which Viserys complied with a pleasant smile for his wife. Having never prayed at supper before, Daenys sat awkwardly as others either clasped their hands and closed their eyes, or politely looked down at their plates while Alicent prayed for Vaemond to rest in peace. Daenys had chosen the latter, though she did so in a much nicer way than Daemon did. He held in a snort at the Queen's words, holding no regret for his murder.

The first to make a toast before dinner was served was Viserys. "My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena. A toast to the young princes."

"Hear, hear!" Daemon was first to say in support. Perhaps he benefited the most. He would be King, then his firstborn daughter would be Queen right after through her marriage.

Goblets clinked in toast to the marriage. Many murmured their congratulations, besides the side that Daenys sat in. She felt out of place with her short cheer.

Viserys clanked his cane to the cobble floor, standing up on shaky knees while leaning against the table for assistance. "It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow. The faces most dear to me in all the world—yet grown so distant from each other."

He unclasped his golden half-mask, revealing a missing eye and half rotted face. Daenys struggled to hold her stare, not wanting to displease her grandsire or offend him. "My own face is no longer a handsome one. If it ever was." He jested weakly. "I wish you to see me as I am. Not as your king, but as your father. Your brother. Your husband. Your grandsire. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts." He pleaded with the people around him, earning either uncomfortable stares or bittersweet ones.

He sat with a heavy sigh, regaining his breath.

Rhaenyra toasted next, voice youthful and strong. "I wish to raise my cup to Queen Alicent. I love my father, but she has tended to him with unfailing devotion and for that she has my gratitude." She faced the queen with a reminiscent smile gracing her face.

Once Rhaenyra sat, Alicent was quick to take her turn. "I raise my cup to you and your house. You will make a fine queen. To further solidify our alliance and newfound love for one another," Alicent rubbed her husband's shoulder sweetly, smiling down at him. "I wish to propose a marriage. Though Aegon is already wed, as our eldest son, Aemond's hand remains free. As does your eldest daughter's."

Daenys stiffened in her seat, meeting Aemond's eye, which remainded composed and unsurprised. Had be brought this to Alicent? Or did Alicent demand it of him?

Viserys' face lifted at the suggestion, placing his hand over Alicent's and looking to Rhaenyra. Not even bothing to look at Daenys or Aemond. "I think it would be a most wonderful idea. Daenys could live here again, and perhaps all of you could come back, too." He hinted.

Rhaenyra was still in her seat, glancing between her father, Alicent, and the two seated at the end. Daenys held a pleading look in her eyes, urging her mother to not agree immediately.

Rhaenyra nodded subtly, sending a placating smile towards the two next to her. Beside her, Daemon scowled and rolled his eyes. "That is a generous offer. I will take some time to consider it."

Alicent nodded her agreement, sitting once more. Daenys forced her heart to stop its rapid beating, knowing her mother had delayed what might become her life's misery. Daenys would not mind Aemond much, nor living with Helena again. But Alicent and Aegon were two figures she could not bear to live with, nor the court that followed their Queen so blindly.

A silence filled the room, as everyone sipped their wine to the many toasts. Aegon lifted himself from his seat with a coy smirk, flitting to the space between Baela and Jace, whispering something that Daenys was not privy to. Jace slammed his hands to the table angrily, startling its occupants. He cleared his throat lightly while Aegon sat himself back in his seat.

Aemond stood, taller than Jacaerys at full height, staring him down from across the table. A warning to Jace that woefully went ignored as the younger started to speak.

"To Prince Aegon and...Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. As men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles." He raised his cup, concluding his shockingly nice speech. Daenys was surprised that he composed himself so well.

"To you as well." Aegon sighed, forced to politeness. Aemond sat, as Helena whispered beside Daenys.

"Beware the beast beneath the boards." No one else must have heard her, and if they did, they decided to ignore her. Helena didn't even seem like she realized that she spoke.

"I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. And perhaps, Daenys, if she does choose to marry my brother." She smiled genuinely to each in turn, a breath of fresh air compared to the tense atmosphere. "They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad, mostly he just ignores you—except sometimes when he's drunk." Her words were meant to be comforting to the bethrothed women, but she clearly had no affectionate experiences in her own marriage, so she could not offer such comforts.

Daenys raised her glass high to her stepsisters, following Helena's toast while Aegon melted into his seat. "Yes, to Baela and Rhaena. We will truly be sisters, soon." She grinned to them, earning raised cups back.

Viserys ordered the music to be started, and immediately Jacaerys stood to action. Daenys looked at him warily, wondering if he had meant his speech as a ploy to lower Aegon and Aemond's guard. He stood behind Daenys' seat, offering a hand to Helena. She took it, slightly confused, while he led to the dance floor from Aegon's side.

The two young aunt and nephew jumped and danced around the empty space near the table, with their parents watching on happily. Daenys watched, too, laughing and clapping at their display. Had they ever had a dinner go so well before?

Aemond stood next to her, sighing through his nose. He offered a hand out to Daenys, too. "I didn't think you would dance." She whispered to him, though did not reject his hand.

"I don't." He said simply. His hand was calloused from years of sword training, though unscarred from no real battle experience. Aemond led her past the young dancers, leading her into a more refined and graceful ballroom dance. Further from the table, they could speak lowly without worry of being overheard.

"Did you receive my letter?" Daenys started, avoiding his intense stare. Even with only one eye, he managed to share a similar look that Daemon had when looking at his niece. Possessive and controlling. He was a far cry from the sweet boy he once was.

"Just the one. All those years ago." He said, narrowing his eye down at her. "Though none of mine have been graced with an answer."

She faultered, "I was unaware that you sent any back."

Aemond pursed his lips, "of course. They must be keeping such things from you. Ever sheltered by Rhaenyra and Daemon on that rock, you remain."

Daenys, though embarrassed, knew he was right. She was quite sheltered, more than most ladies who were presenting themselves to court for suitors. But she did not need to trouble herself with such things. She didn't need a husband.

Daenys moved on, "who's idea was the marriage proposal? Last time there was one between our families, Alicent shot it down."

Aemond glanced at the table towards her family. "I did. My mother had a change of heart, perhaps. It would be beneficial to finally have a reason for our families to bridge this distance between us."

He sounded like he didn't believe his own words, like he was reading from a script.

"Indeed...though I doubt it would be so simple. Things never are between us." She sighed.

"They can be."

She scoffed lightly, looking to her mother and Alicent, who were conversing with soft smiles gracing their features. "They are in good moods now, while Viserys is here to be a deterrent. Even if we married, his death will split us apart."

"Marriage is sacred. Your husband and his children would be whom your loyalties lie with." Aemond stated.

"I would never choose a man over my family." She narrowed her eyes, pausing her practiced steps. "Is that what you want? My loyalties to be pledged to you and your family?"

He stayed silent during her barrage, only clenching his jaw as he listened.

"Or perhaps it is my dragon you want?" She challenged. "I thought you were above the manipulations of your mother and grandsire. Smarter than your dimwitted brother. I was wrong."

"Daenys—" Aemond started to speak, but she pulled her arm from his loose grasp and strided out of the dining hall. She had no reason to listen to his words. Years ago, she had sought a friend in Aemond, the one who shared in her torment. Now, she knew he was just like his mother, calculating and deceitful.

That night, as Rhaenyra and her family headed back to Dragonstone following a tiff between all of their children, Daenys did not dream of Viserys' demise. Rhaenys had stayed the night at the Red Keep alone, being locked in her guest chambers while Aegon was being crowned King. After her escape with the Red Queen Meleys, Rhaenys told Rhaenyra of the news.

Visenya was lost that day.

Daenys was unsure why she didn't see such a catastrophic event like the King's death—but for once she did not blame herself. She blamed the Hightowers and their lust for power.

🗡

Most of the day passed fairly quickly. Cregan and Daenys spent it in solitude, only each other as company. She thought of bringing Cregan back to Dragonstone and returning alone, but wished selfishly for some more time with her bethrothed before she left him. One more day together wouldn't hurt.

After their prayer with the weirwood, Daenys felt invigorated with the sunny weather the day had provided. She turned to Cregan, who eyed her excitement with mock suspicion.

"We should swim," she suggested to him, with an excited glint to her violet eyes.

"Swim? Do you mean at the God's Eye?" Cregan asked. It was the only body of water so close to Harrenhall, but she could always fly to another one of her choosing.

"Yes, I did say that I would bring you swimming one day."

"You said that you wished to." He corrected. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know how, I won't be the most pleasant company."

Daenys snickered, "perhaps I might ask Davos, then. A Riverlander would most definitely enjoy a swim on a day like this one."

He gave her a scorned look, pitful grey puppy eyes downtrodden at the mention of her choosing another man over him for company.

She grabbed his hand, giggling all the while at his expression as she led him outside. "I merely jest, Cregan. You can stay on the shore and watch me." She shrugged playfully.

Cregan hummed, looking her up and down pointedly. "In your dress? We have brought no swimclothes with us."

"I have my shift, I'll make due." She brushed his concern off, lifting her skirts with her spare hand to save them from grass stains. She'd hate to dishonor the lady who previously wore them, after all.

Cregan swallowed beside her, nodding. It's not like he hadn't seen her in her shift, or less than that, but the context was different—he was too worried for her life to concern himself with such frivolous thoughts. Now, both spending their leisure time together, they were free to do as they pleased.

According to courting and bethrothal customs, unmarried men and women shouldn't be without a chaperone. However, it was much too late for either to start caring for traditions.

The walk to the God's eye was brief, though the sun shining on them had earned thin sheens of sweat and flushed faces. Daenys was eager to get into the cooling water, oblivious to Cregan's mental struggles beside her. At the shore of the massive span of water, Daenys began to rid herself of her dress, folding it neatly and placing it on a rock, along with her stockings. Left only in a sheer white shift, she stepped into the water, turning to face Cregan, who was still fully clothed and avoiding eye contact.

"You're sweating buckets, Cregan." She stated, amused at his stubbornness. "At least take your tunic off and dip your feet in. It'll help you cool off."

While ladies were made to wear uncomfortable corsets and dragging dresses, Daenys was always grateful that at least they were cooler than men's many layers. Sometimes up to five or six for a day-to-day outfit, not even mentioning the ones presentable enough for court. Jacaerys oft complained about the heat of King's Landing back when they lived at the arid Keep, though he was relieved by Dragonstone's much more appeasing climates.

Cregan, with his thicker layers meant for permanent chills, must be near passing out. Perhaps she got too excited. They could've enjoyed a nice day in Harrenhall's walls. Maybe.

He obliged when she sent him a secondary beseeching look. He shrugged off his heavy tunic, left in a much lighter cotton undershirt. It hung off his frame much looser, allowing him to acclimatize much faster. The unbuttoned 'V' shape of his neckline hung much lower than that of his tunic, revealing the smooth skin of his chest.

Daenys turned back to hide her expression from him, knowing if he saw it, he would think her uncouth. She waded through the swallow water, soaking herself with the cold water. It was a great relief for the Princess, taking away the uncomfortable sweaty stickiness from her body and replacing it with fresh, cold water. Though she'd never swam in the Riverland lake, it still brought back many fond memories of her father Laenor, a simpler time when she swam almost every sennight. Now, it had been months since she last found time to.

With the water up to her shoulders, she dunked her head in and dived under, eyes quickly adjusting to the freshwater. Unlike the saltiness sting that the ocean always gave her, the lake was much more accommodating. By the time she had emerged, silver hair clinging to her body in the same way her shift did, Cregan was sat in the grainy sand, legs dipped into the water as he watched on.

He grinned when she resurfaced. "Refreshed, my Princess?"

"It would be nicer if you joined." Daenys mused, sharing in his light mood.

"I am perfectly content watching." He avoided her offer with a placating smile. Hands resting leisurely over his knees, simply relaxing in the sun and cooling water's contrast, Cregan really did look content. His face was free of worry, and his rigidly straight posture softened.

She hummed her acknowledgment, knowing she couldn't get him to swim with her this time. One day, she would succeed. Daenys did, after all, comvince an ever-stubborn man of Stark blood to ride a dragon.

After some diving and searching for whatever pretty trinket caught her eye, Daenys dained herself to simply float on top of the water, hands rested on her belly. In one of them, clutched protectively, lie a small grey pearl. In the sunlight, it gleamed a rainbow iridescence. In the shade of her palm, it was perfectly grey. It had taken her an umpteenth amount of tries to find, which she stopped counting after the seventh try, and perhaps a hundred dud pearls that she deemed unworthy. One thing she had learned during her escapades was that she had not lost her touch for the water, still able to hold her breath for long periods of time and open her eyes easily. Still, she was no match for her father's abilities. He took to the water like a true Velayron, disappearing under its depths for minutes at a time.

Daenys wondered when she would get chances to swim up in the cold North. Only when she visited her family, once they had reclaimed the capitol? Such sacrifices were the baselines of marriage for women. She would be more fortunate than most with her dragon as an aid to travel—most women who went so far for marriage never saw their homes again. Cregan clearly held no love for the water. How could he? He was not raised being surrounded by it, instead by mountains of snow and dense woods. She did love the wood, too. The serenity and quietness.

The sun had long since left her skin kissed with light brown freckles, the time apart from lengths in the sun having long since faded her previous ones. When she felt the heat start to irritate her eyelids, she opened them and squinted toward Cregan, who lifted his head from his arms and gaze from the gently waving water to her.

Daenys outstretched an arm lazily to him, beckoning wordlessly for assistance. Perfectly capable of swimming herself the few feet she was from the shallow sand, she felt knackered from the warmth and expending activity.

Cregan chuckled at her reaching, shaking his head teasingly. "You just swam laps around the God's Eye, I'm sure you can manage a few more feet on your own."

"Can't." Daenys said simply.

He raised a brow, smiling, "I'm sorry?"

"I'm incapacitated. Cannot move." She elaborated slowly.

He nodded, even slower, leaning back on his forearms. She forced her eyes not to leave his at the movement and sudden shift of his shirt. "I guess we're stuck here, my Lady."

"Seems that way."

They were at an impasse. One waiting for the other to give up. Stubbon Stark and conquering Targaryen. Eventually, one had to cave. Daenys was confident that she could stay in place for hours, even in the sun, while he would eventually burn up and regret even taking a step from Harrenhall's stone walls.

She relaxed in the water again, rolling the grey pearl between her fingertips idly. Cregan watched on, admiring the glow the sun provided her skin It was afternoon already, they had spent almost all day outdoors. Neither complained, though, for the much-needed distraction.

Daenys was reminded of the simplicities of life that the commonfolk lived. Not the ones in King's Landing, who often were criminals or victims of criminals, working day and night with little reward. No, not them. The ones who lived far from courtly society and its selfish royals. Those who lived in small villages far from big cities, who relied on one another and loved their neighbors like family. Worked hard on their family-owned farms and shops, retiring for the afternoon in their homes and laughed with their loved ones while they feasted on breads and cheeses their neighbors traded to them for handcrafted clothes. Those are the people Daenys envied, who lived full lives and never stopped to wonder what their life might be like in another's place.

She would be very content, she thought, to live a simple life like that. With Cregan as her swordsmith husband, and her as a fisherman. Both returning home at the end of their work days to a gaggle of children running around at their feet, squaking loudly about what they had learned that day. People would come nosing their way into their house over the evening, bringing food and smiles into the house while friends and family sat together. Sara and her husband first, living right next to them. Then, Daenys' mother and Daemon, bringing young Aegon and Viserys in their arms to play with their nieces and nephews. Corlys and Rhaenys, telling tales of how their two children were out enjoying a long voyage together on the open seas. The last ones to join would be Jacaerys and Lucerys, with Baela and Rhaena respectively.

The entire family would sit and talk of their days, as they had every night before that, and retell tales that all have listened to a million times before but never interrupt the joyous expression the storyteller held while speaking. The children would all have their own table, though eventually want to be a part of the adult's conversation and squeeze themselves on top of their parent's laps. The adults, after playfully scolding their babes, would still allow it with a gentle kiss on top of fluffy heads.

The perfect life. One that none of Daenys' loved ones could ever achieve.

The sound of sloshing in the water forced Daenys to focus once more, glancing up to meet Cregan's face staring down at her. Gently, he grabbed her hands and slightly dragged her close to himself, turning her to face him. She grinned up at him, "that was fast."

"I've enjoyed the view all day. I'm not so stubborn as to scorch myself for the sake of pride." Cregan chided. With a large hand resting itself on the dip of her waist, the Lord brought her to the shallowest parts before lifting her to her feet. "Now, is the Princess still too tired to walk, or does she require assistance?"

Daenys steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders, narrowly avoiding touching any bare skin on his chest, though it tempted her. His touch was hot on her waist, burning through even her wet shift. She felt breathless despite her lack of movement, forgetting to speak for a long pause of time.

"Daenys," he murmured lowly, brushing his thumb over the soft skin of her stomach. She was reminded of his size—a true testiment of his ancient Stark blood. Looking down at her past his straight nose, hands large enough to engulf her midsection from the curve of her waist to her belly buttom. From behind Cregan, one might not be able to see Daenys, his broad shoulders and height a perfect sheild.

The touch made her shiver, though she brushed it off as the wet cotton clinging to her skin. "I...Yes, I can walk." She finally managed to mumble out. He smiled once more, leading her out of the water by the hand, though he noticed she switched the pearl to the other to be able to grasp his.

"What have you found, my lady sailor?" He asked, leaning down to squeeze water from his trousers and half of his shirt.

She lifted her palm for him to see the grey pearl, showing it off like a dragon would show its prized treasure. Morningstar, too, had oft stolen whatever shiny thing caught her eye during flights, bringing them to Dragonstone's pit and waiting for Daenys to come down to see it. She had her own little pile of knickknacks, though some of the smaller ones lay in Daenys' chambers. Strangely, none of the others (apart from Syrax) had the same interest in material things.

He straightened, lifting the ball to his eyeline. Daenys bit her cheek to stop her grin from getting any bigger. It was a perfect match to his own eye. She only kept the pearl for the theory, being too far from Cregan to keep bringing little pearls back and bother him with silly comparisons. She simply went off her memory, which seemed to serve her perfectly.

"It's a...?" He left space for an answer, not entirely sure of it himself. Right, she thought. He'd never left the North. They don't eat much seafood there, so there's no cause to learn about sea life besides the few species of fish that graced their waters.

"I forgot, you've never been so far down before." She hummed. "A pearl. Formed in clams or muscles—I like to keep any that catch my interest."

"I've heard of them. Used for necklaces, right?" He asked, placing the pearl in her palm again after she twisted her own skirts.

Daenys nodded. "I've made a few of my own, though I can't wear them to court. Too juvenile, my mother says. Sometimes, I can put them into my hair, but the process takes too long to make it a common accessory."

"I'd like to see that." Cregan said softly, admiring the way she scrunched her hair to attempt to dry it quicker. With the retained water, the silver hair looked a darker milky grey. It made the purple hue of her eyes stand out more, especially in the daylight.

Twisting the bottom of her skirts, Daenys laughed. "My maid won't be happy to hear that. Perhaps I'll have to teach you how to put them into braids, if you'd truly like to see it."

He handed the pearl back to her once she finished. "I would be happy to learn, if only to ease the burden of your poor maid."

Daenys picked up her dress from its place on the rock, finding it pleasently warmed. She didn't put it back on, knowing it would only get wet from her shift. She'd have to be swift when returning to her chambers, lest Davos, Simon, or any of Simon's sons see her in such a state. Cregan did the same, carrying both of their clothes bundled up under an elbow.

As they walked, Cregan spoke up. "I have been to the capitol. Once, briefly, but that visit was enough to last a lifetime."

Daenys perked up, turning to Cregan as they walked together. "I've never seen you before. Was it recent?"

He shook his head. "Actually, it was for your nameday tourney."

She groaned. "Of course. I hated those every year, but my grandsire insisted that all of his children and grandchildren got a tourney for their nameday celebrations. Starks do not typically attend tourneys, seeing as they happen so often. What made you come?"

At her complaint, he snorted briefly. "I was one and ten at the time, two years before my father passed. He insisted that I was old enough to attend court at the capitol, and it had been many years since he had attended himself—the last being to swear an oath to your mother.

I was a young, excited boy who was ill-equipped to handle the secret meanings behind Southerner's words. I took everything literally, not knowing that everyone I spoke to was insulting me to my face."

Daenys hummed sympathetically. "Yes, it is a nasty habit. Whatever could they have insulted you for?" She asked, curious.

He blushed slightly, a tinging of red dusting his ears. "My accent, my looks, whatever they saw that seemed 'different'. Back then, I was all gangly limbs and height, not yet experienced in swordtraining. They hid such distastes in compliments, something I was not aware of until I told my father, and he warned me to both speak and listen carefully in the Crownlands."

"Your looks?" She was bemused by the implication. Surely, no one would find Cregan uncomely. Even in the awkward youth years. Or his accent, a small part of her mind said. His accent was perhaps her favorite part of Cregan, it made her mind go hazy whenever he spoke more than his usual curt sentences. Another Stark trait was to not speak more than necessary.

He shrugged, "Starks have prominent genes. We've always had dark hair, straight noses, long faces, and perhaps taller frames than most men. We are not bred to be pretty, like some are."

Her mind went to the peacocking men that were born and bred in the Crownlands and the places attached to it. Of course, ladies of the realm were meant to be pretty, and if they were not, then at least they were trained to act elegantly. Though, the men were often 'pretty' too. The Hightowers, for example, were a picture of good genetics. Otto Hightower's two children, Alicent and Gwayne, were both considered beautiful with their auburn hair and dark eyes. Though Gwayne was a knight, he was sought after by many. The two must have taken after their mother Alerie since Otto looked nothing like either. The Tyrells, too, were considered blooming flowers of beauty, well-groomed and mannered.

The Targaryens, Velayrons, and Daynes all held traits that the realm agreed to be most beautiful. Whores dyed their hair silver just to be paid more, and men sought after them twice as much as a regular looking woman. Tales were written of Valyrion women, even by those who've never laid eyes on one. Songs were sung by bards, poems written by romantics, gossip spread like wildfire when another was presented to court. Daenys had heard a few about herself, to her surprise. Though the realm did not hold her in high regard, her beauty was apparently taken the opposite. A song had once called her 'The Dawn's Light' for her silver waves and lighter-than-most violet eyes. A poem called her 'The Dreamer Reborn' but moreso as a statement than a compliment. She scarsely heard any gossip since her leave from the capitol, so any other poems or songs in her name went unknown. Similar to her mother, 'The Realm's Delight' she was given such titles as a young girl. Women did not earn their titles from great accomplishments but rather their looks alone, most of the time.

The Valyrion-featured men, too, were hauntingly charming in looks just as their female counterparts were. Aemond was considered a handsome young prince before being named 'Aemond One-Eye'. Aegon, too, was conventionally handsome when his mouth was shut. Daenys was quite unsure of Daemon or Viserys' looks, seeing as they were both no longer in their prime youth at the time Daenys was born. Though she was sure her father Laenor was widely known to be a charmingly handsome man, for his sailing adventures had proven him a popular figure to men and women alike.

"Perhaps you are not pretty." She started, smirking up at him. "No Northern men could be, with their laborious lives. Handsome is more fitting, I would say. Though mayhaps other ladies can only assume a Northern man to be a brutish and unrefined beasts of men, simply because they are unused to different appearences."

Truly, Cregan was taller and broader than most, even more impressive for his young age. He would surely make most Andal men question their own masculinity, to which the Andals would turn to insults to counter their insecurities.

Cregan hummed thoughtfully, holding an almost bashful smile. "Not many southern ladies would consider a Stark 'handsome'. Especially a Velayron. None from the North have married a Valyrion." He mentioned.

"We are the first, then."

"Indeed," he took her hand in his, forgoing joining arms for the warmth of their hands. His hand, even interlaced with her own, was calloused and large. Quite like a paw, she bit back from saying. Without his leather gloves that he had to don in the cold, she felt the safety of his protection right in his palm.

"How was the tourney beside the cold welcome you received? I remember that my father Laenor fought in it, as he only cared for those dreadful tourneys when it was one of our namedays."

A part of her wished to have met him back then. Perhaps she could have made a friend, her first one that was not of her own blood.

"More boring than I expected. As a boy, I wished to be a great jouster to show off my house pride, but it wasn't at all what I expected." He said. "Also, I was quite disappointed to find that the star of the tourney was missing from the Royal Pavillion."

Daenys blushed, unable to meet his amused look. "I only stayed to watch my father's joust. I made appearances, then left when no one's eyes were on me."

"Everyone's eyes are on you, Princess." He chuckled.

She nodded slightly. "Unfortunately. That is something I dreaded during those days. Who did end up winning that tourney? I forget."

Cregan shrugged once more, "I don't know either. I didn't stay til the end."

At her confused glance, he continued. "I got bored of watching men fall from horses. So, I wondered off to explore the 'Great Red Keep' I had heard so many things about. I got lost in the halls—which are much too big for one family, in my opinion—and stumbled upon the very princess that was missing."

Daenys furrowed her brows together, trying to recall ever meeting a young Cregan Stark. "I don't think I remember speaking to you."

Cregan shook his head. "I never found the courage to approach you. But I knew who you were, even from afar. You sat at a windowsil, overlooking the crowds of people. You looked so lonely, with that wistful look in your eyes."

"Why didn't you talk to me, then?" She asked him.

"I was scared that you might think of me the same way the other young ladies did. Though you looked lonely, you also had a peaceful aura that I could not dare to disturb."

She nodded her agreement. "I have grown used to enjoying my own company. Though, I have grown to enjoy yours, more."

He squeezed her hand lightly. "You shall not be alone anymore, ever. If I have a say in it."

They reached Harrenhall at a more leisure pace than they had left with. The sun was starting to set now, and their bellies were rumbling with hunger. Daenys and Cregan jogged through the halls of Harrenhall, luckily not running into any people on the way. They shut the door to Daenys' room behind them, giggling and laughing like a pair of juveniles sneaking under their parent's noses. Cregan and Daenys politely turned while changing together, underclothes long since drying during their walk.

Daenys sat at the creaky vanity she was provided, unbothered by the water rotted wood. If it worked, it worked. At least the mirror was clean. She worked to brush through her drying hair, a plain giveaway to her activities. Her hair was famously hard to dry, her vigerous routine for her hair alone taking hours each week. Without any of the oils and soaps that she had on Dragonstone, Daenys found that her hair dulled slightly in the North, only being restored when she returned home. She hoped it would not do so again at Harrenhall. Though she did not think herself to be a vain woman, she cared for her hair greatly. It was something she had grown for years, having not cut it since her father passed.

The last haircut she had was done by her father, who taught her how to take the best care of it and always styled it despite her maids being well able to. Daenys knew she'd eventually have to trim it again, but she'd prolonged it for years already in a weak attempt to keep his every memory.

The pearl sat next to the brush while she started to plait her hair up in a braided romantic tuck, which would leave no hair cascading down her hair. If it was all so bunched up, none would notice its dampness.

Cregan sat himself on her bed, tunic placed loosely on in his idleness. There was no need to trap himself fully in his warm clothing until they needed to be presentable. His eyes never left her as she threaded expertly through her hair, seemingly zoning out as he did.

She finished as fast as she could, perhaps a little sloppy. But, she didn't wish for Cregan to be left waiting in boredom too long. Daenys stood from her stool, turning to her bethrothed. She patted her hair down slightly, brushing over it to neaten it. "Im sorry, I worked as fast as I could."

Smiling patiently, Cregan stood and took her hands from her hair, kissing her knuckles tenderly. "Don't worry. I have never seen such perfection, my beautiful Daenys."

Taken aback, Daenys found herself utterly speachless. Where had that come from?

"Thank you, Cregan." She murmured, finding only enough propriety to unconsciously respond to a compliment. My?

His smile seemed to deepen at her pause, taking her by the same hand he kissed and leading her outside of the room. "Let's have our supper, I'm sure the other guests of Harrenhall are wondering where we are."

Daenys nodded, following at his side to the dining room. The halls had started to become familiar to Daenys, even though it had only been barely two days since they arrived. Around the table already sat the majority of Harrenhall's residents. Simon, of course, and his small family, who mostly stayed quiet as mice. Davos, who sat slouched back in his seat, spinning his utensil upon the table with a frustrated expression. Daemon, too, though he looked drowsy still. Slightly faraway, like he was in a permanent waking dream.

As Daenys passed him, he glanced up at her. His eyes cleared slightly, a nearly horrified look on his face. "Rhaenyra?" He asked, sitting up in his seat.

Daenys exchanged a glance with Cregan, staring down at her stepfather afterwards. "Rhaenyra is still at Dragonstone." She said carefully.

In their shared native tongue, Daenys could speak without giving anything away to the others in the room, who stared at them in bemusement.

Daemon squinted at her for a few more seconds, sitting back into his seat once more and blinking harshly. He nodded, saying nothing else.

Daenys needed to visit Alys again. Perhaps she would know something about Daemon's strange behavior. Or perhaps she was the reason for it. The tea was something she did not partake in and would not attempt to now that she saw Daemon's weariness. But, she would not yet point any fingers until she confronted the woman.

Daenys sat herself between Davos and Cregan, prepared to soothe the impaitients and frustration that she knew Davos was experiencing.

"It has been a full day, Your Grace." Davos shifted in his seat, restless. "I have not heard word of what you intend to do for my father in terms of the Bracken's treason."

Daemon rubbed at his temples. "I will fly out on Caraxes tomorrow. No later than noon. I sent a raven to Lord Willem already, he and the Bracken Lord will meet me in a sectioned place of my choosing."

"Are we to be privvy of this meeting? Or must it be held in such secrecy? Davos asked. Daenys agreed with him. Who knows what the combined tempers Willem and Daemon will bring together. Though she would not say that in front of Willem's own son.

"I will act alone." Daemon glanced at her. "As I have since I arrived in Harrenhall."

"What great that has done us." Daenys muttered. "We seem to be at the verge of turning swords against us rather than rallying them together."

"I will not sugarcoat my demands for a child, this is war." He spat back.

"Telling a boy to kill his grandsire for the sake of expediting his own control is certainly no way to gain loyalty." Daenys sipped her wine, not feeling a heavy appetite when no one else was eating besides Simon's sons.

Davos looked at her bewilderedly as if to ask if he really said that. Daenys smiled into her cup shortly, wiping it off her face before she set the cup down.

"What do you intend to do with the Brackens?" She continued.

"You need not concern yourself with my business. It will be delt with accordingly."

Daenys sighed quietly. "At least answer me this. Will you recruit or burn the Brackens?"

The room silented further. Daemon stared between Davos and Daenys.

"I will do what I must to obtain the best men for our Queen's cause." Was his answer. "While I fly out on Caraxes, you should pay a visit to the Tullys. To...ascertain their Lord's condition. Perhaps things have changed."

"Since the day before?" She scoffed.

Daemon gave her a harsh look. "We do not have time to wait for an old and withered fool to die in order to get the Tully bannermen."

"We certainly had time to wait for Viserys to die." Though her words were unnecessarily cruel, especially towards Viserys' own brother, Daenys couldn't find it in her to care. She was never close with her grandsire, but scorned the way his own closest kin abandoned him to the Hightower snakes' clutches.

"Watch your tongue." Daemon leaned forward in his seat.

"I would not let war change me."

"You've not seen war yet, daughter."

Daemon often called her that. Something he did not share with her brothers when he merely referred to them by their names. It frustrated Daenys, knowing he had no right to call her his daughter when he appeared so suddenly in her life. She was nothing like her stepfather. He was the last man who could be her father.

He's the one who got rid of Laenor. Manipulated Rhaenyra into sending the father of her four eldest children away. Daemon, alone, was the reason she mourned her father for years. Rhaenyra would never have done such a thing to her children if her uncle was not so cunning.

"I will not." She said finally. There was no room for argument in her tone. "Tomorrow, I will deliver the Master of War to the Queen's council, then return to Harrenhall and await the news you bring."

"Fine. Sit idly here as the council and I make moves to take back the throne. It is not like you'd be much use at Dragonstone, either." Daemon leaned forward in his seat, closer to the faces across from him before taking his leave to his chambers.

Seething, Daenys chose not to make a scene in front of the other occupants in the room. Instead, she quickly turned to Davos. "I hope to see you returning to your family soon, Ser Davos. I hate to see you stuck here for menial reasons, I think your father and Daemon will work something out with the Brackens on the morrow."

Davos smiled weakly. "It's only been a day and I feel my mind melting with the idleness. I wish to be on the battlefield, marching with my Aunt Alysanne."

She nodded. "I understand. We share that sentiment, at least."

Dinner passed by quickly, with Simon taking hold of the conversation and switching it to a more appropriate topic. Tension did not leave the air all night, however. When Daenys big goodnight to Davos, Simon, and the rest, she allowed Cregan to lead her to her chambers.

A distant feeling nagged at the back of Daenys' mind, as if warning her something would happen soon. It was a miserable impending feeling that she could not answer. "Goodnight, Cregan." She said before he could stop to check on her, knowing that look on his face meant he was worried for her.

She settled into her sheets, knowing that a dream was awaiting her. It was best to get it over with, to see it, and wake up again to be able to prepare for whatever would happen.

Daenys was correct. She had begun to get better at predicting when she would dream. This time, she was landlocked on a rolling grassy hill, watching hundreds of soldiers holding up Green Targaryen banners marching towards an unknown destination. Greenery surrounded her on all sides, through forests and healthy grass. She followed after the leagues of men, who did not see her, and mapped out every possible landmark in her mind. Eventually, the men reached a treeline where they stopped. For cover, most likely.

Men did not hide in forests from other men, but from a dragon's birdeye view.

Daenys spotted a large castle nearby, the destination that the men must have in mind. Behind her, more men rolled up with large crossbows that had to be dragged with multiple horses. The arrows they held were almost as tall as Daenys. Men from the castle were sent out to defend their home, a meager number compared to the ones marching upon them. But, like any loyal knights, they would all die protecting their Lord and his house.

Men did not hide in forests from other men, but from a dragon's birdeye view. Men did not need to kill other men with five-foot-long arrows. She saw Criston Cole, flanked by Ser Gwayne Hightower, and she knew. They were waiting for a dragon.

🗡

Daenys shot out of bed quickly, finding no time to dress herself in the dress laid out for her. It was just after dawn, the sun was already peaking out over Daenys' bed through the windows and cracks in the roof.

She rushed out to the dining hall, where Davos was whispering hushedly to Ser Simon. "Simon, Davos!" Daenys commanded their attention, making them both swing around on the balls of their feet to see their panicked Princess.

In her white shift, completely inappropriate for wandering strange halls, she earned stares with differing looks. Simon, with concern that only a father could hold, and Davos with a hand at his sword's pommel, ready to defend his Princess if need be.

"Princess?" Simon asked.

"In the Riverlands—What castle holds a tower slightly higher than the rest with a sphere on top?" She panted out. "Forests and grassy hills around it, it is slightly smaller than Harrenhall in size but longer."

The two glanced at each other, Davos answering first. "That sounds like Rook's Rest. It is right between us and Dragonstone. May I ask why, my Lady?"

Of course. Rook's Rest, a perfect spot for the Green's to take and cut off Dragonstone from the land.

"I must go. See to it that Cregan Stark stays here while I am gone, Ser Simon."

"But, Princess—!" She didn't stay, running off to Daemon's chambers.

She pushed at the doors, grunting when she was met with resistance. A clanging was heard, she knew he must have barred the doors with something. She continued to push and pull aggressively at the doors, eventually making the protective bar he put up fall to the ground. By the time she yanked them open, Daemon stood in front of the doors with a sword held high to her face.

"Daemon," She started, gritting her teeth. "You must come with me. We will ride to Rook's Rest, where an amush has been laid for Rhaenyra's dragons."

Daemon did not lower his sword, stuck in that same hazy mindspace that she had seen him in before. "Begone, witch. I will hear no more of this."

"Daemon!" She pleaded, stepping closer. "I need you, now. I don't know who is waiting or who Rhaenyra is sending. What if it is Baela, or Jace? Their dragons are too small and young to fight like ours—Come on!"

Daemon scowled at her, as if he were looking right past her. He stepped forward, too, til his Valyrion steel blade was touching her neck. "You are not Rhaenyra." He said, convincing himself that he was merely dreaming.

She swallowed harshly, shaking her head. She had no time to wait for him to find his own mind. Daenys would not be his mother, she couldn't stand idle as a dragon and its rider unknowingly flew to its own death.

She stepped away, nodding. "If I do not return, Daemon, you can tell your wife that you have doomed me."

In her own chambers, she hastily put on the dress that was laid out for her. A pale grey, resembling a misty morning like the one that graced the Riverlands this morning. It would be harder to see today, Daenys knew, she must be vigilant to guide Morningstar.

Morningstar flew with a vigor, right below the cloudbanks, to be able to see everything. It was a fast flight to Rook's Rest, passing over mountains of green trees before the fields opened up to the plains that the castle stood on. Below, men were fighting already. Shouts were heard from below as Morningstar crossed Cole's forces towards Rook's Rest, where she circled briefly.

She ran outside, calling Morningstar to her at the door. Caraxes followed, though only roared frustratedly as he knew he could not fly with them. They sensed her urgency and fear. On top of Morningstar, Daenys could see Cregan start to race outside, barely dressed himself. He shouted after her only when she shouted her command. Daenys glanced back at him apologetically, knowing he would advise against such reckless actions. She would not let herself be stopped, not this time. She waited too long for Jaehaerys and was only a minute too late to save the boy.

She tried to ignore the helpless look on Cregan's face as she turned away.

There.

It was Rhaenys and Meleys, coming from across the sea to defend Lord Staunton's keep. A breath of relief left Daenys, knowing that her mother had sent the most capable fighter she had available. "Grandmother!" She shouted over the men below, grinning at the sight of the Red Queen. Selfishly, she was glad it was not Jacaerys or Baela.

Rhaenys did not share her joy, instead falling into place beside Morningstar with a worried shout of her own. "Go back, Daenys! This is not your battle!"

In her grand dragonscale and steel armor, she looked just like a Queen. Her commanding presence solidified it even more so. "It is a trap, Rhaenys, I cannot leave you to face a dragon alone," Daenys told her stubbornly. She would not leave Rhaenys, there was no argument about it.

Rhaenys stared long and hard at her granddaughter, an image of herself and her niece. Finally, she nodded curtly in acceptance. It was futile to argue with the young Targaryen.

Together, they spun their dragons around to hover right over the plains. Dragonfire spit out from Meleys and Morningstar both, showering over the enemies in a display of glowing orange and blue. Screams of agony were heard as the fire spread from man to man, no steel armor able to save them from flames so hot.

Daenys cringed at the sounds and the smells. She was killing men by the hundreds, perhaps, it was uncountable over the distance and flames. Only weeks ago, she had wondered if she would be able to use fire against her enemies in such a violent way, now she was doing it without question or mercy.

They did not deserve mercy, but Daenys did not wish to kill. She held in gags at the overstimulating sounds and smells around her, staying firm and strong as Rhaenys was. Her grandmother did not flinch nor faulter, a confident Princess with her experienced dragon, a bond that could never be broken.

Repeatingly, the two dragons lifted and found new targets on any men who dared to still be out in the fields, and any who were too slow to retreat into the woods. When Daenys noticed a steady march of the majority of the men creeping out from their cover, she lifted her gaze to the skies. In the distance, a dragon was flying toward them at top speed from the direction of the capitol.

She squinted, meeting Meleys' turnaround from above the water. "It's Sunfyre!" She shouted to Rhaenys, who silently nodded and ordered Meleys to meet The Golden.

"Angōs, Meleys." She commanded her dragon with a fierce determination. The red dragoness roared in response, speeding up to meet the usurper. Morningstar, perfectly meeting her stride, trilled with excitement.

They were mere yards apart when Daenys heard, "Dracarys!" From Aegon. Immediately, Sunfyre spit his own orange dragonfire at the two. Meleys swooped down, taking the fire to her advantage, knowing it blinded Aegon momentarily. Morningstar flew up sharply, turning to follow behind Sunfyre. That fool.

In the midst of his confusion, Aegon turned his head every which way to locate his enemy counterparts, yelping when Sunfrye was grasped from below by Meleys. The Red Queen dug her sharp talons into the younger dragon's chest, digging deep gouges right through the scales. She tossed Sunfyre down, watching him fumble to steady himself.

Daenys found herself at an impasse. Sunfyre was too small to tagteam in a way that would leave Morningstar's ally unharmed. If either shot fire, they would risk hurting each other and not Aegon. Sunfyre managed to right himself, flying just over the grass and spraying buckets of boiling hot blood on Aegon's own men.

Sunfyre whined in pain the entire ascent back into the air. Daenys felt sympathy for the poor thing. It was only doing as he was bid by his rider. Meleys didn't let him get far, biting at Sunfyre's wing in the air and dragging him across. Morningstar finally took the opportunity to join, Daenys noting that bites and scratches were much easier to aim than fire. Her dragon latched onto the other wing's thin membrane, leaving Sunfyre unable to fly himself and instead hang lamely between the two beasts.

Sunfyre managed to angle his neck wildly, hanging on to Meleys' horn with his jaw. He tore it clean off of the dragoness, throwing it down to the ground. A deep grumble caught Daenys' attention as Morningstar let go of the bloodied and ripped wing. "It's Vhagar!" She shouted to Rhaenys, who turned to see the great behemoth approaching with Aemond.

"Thank the Gods!" Aegon shouted in relief, even as Meleys held Sunfrye's neck in a fearsome grip.

Morningstar sharply flew up to get out of the line of fire, howling out for Meleys to follow her.

A shout was heard from Aemond, though Daenys could not decipher it over the sounds of growls and wings flapping. Fire shot from Vhagar indiscriminately, shooting right at Aegon.

Was Rhaenys even the target for that? Daenys thought to herself, horrified at the sight below her. Sunfyre's ripped wings both caught fire, the blood exposing the insides enough to be lacking shield as they usually would. Rhaenys swiftly met Morningstar in the higher skies, watching with Daenys as the rider and dragon fell to the trees.

Vhagar continued on, Aemond not attempting to check on his older brother.

Meleys and Morningstar flew side by side, both riders turned to assess the situation. Panting, they worked to catch their breath. Daenys pet Morningstar's neck, checking her for injuries. Luckily, she went unharmed from her brief fight with the smaller dragon. Meleys had sustained few injuries, too, bar from the missing horn.

"Grandmother, we can keep going to Dragonstone. Or Harrenhall, even! Vhagar is thrice our size, we should get Caraxes and Daemon."

Her words seemed to go through one ear and out the other to her grandmother. Rhaenys sat straight and proud, ever a picture of grace even in battle. "I will not be leaving this battle, Daenys." She told her solemnly. "But you will. Continue on, without me." She commanded.

Daenys shook her head vehemently, shocked at the implication. "I will not leave you, grandmother. I cannot."

Rhaenys met her eyeline with a pleading look, though only got a determined one in return. "I will follow you into battle." Her granddaughter continued, blinking away watery eyes.

The Queen Who Never Was nodded, only once. "Angōs, Meleys." She murmured to her dragon, who made a similar hollow sound.

"Naejot, Ñāqatubis qēlos!" Daenys shouted, earning a more invigorated sound from Morningstar. Her blood ran hot, nearly burning through the saddle and Daenys' legs if they had touched the scales. She didn't want to back down, and neither did Meleys.

Rhaenys buckled herself into her saddle. Daenys narrowed her eyes at her grandmother but did not speak out against her. She simply followed her actions. She was the more experienced rider, after all.

Ahead of them, Vhagar had her back turned to them. Aemond has thought they fled when Sunfyre went down, they both had the speed to outfly Vhagar easily. He turned in his saddle, cursing. Roaring, Meleys sped up and angled herself to fly upside down, Morningstar quick to mimic her movements more clumsily. Both dragons matched their actions, moving to latch both of their feet to one of Vhagar's. All three dragons jerked at the stop, spinning in circles as if merely dancing in the air.

Though, the fire and roars told the onlookers otherwise. Daenys felt dizzy at being upsidedown and spinning, but held herself steady. "Do not fire, Morningstar! Bite!" She yelled her command, fearful of burning her grandmother. From this angle, it would be hard for flames to reach Aemond anyway. Flames only served to blind the other dragon. Morningstar grumbled but obeyed, forcing fire back down her throat. She bit at any green limbs or scales flying her way, finally managing to latch onto Vhagar's thick tail and biting down hard.

Beside her, Meleys clawed at Vhagar's chest successfully, searing blood running down all of the Dragon's scales as they spun. Vhagar roared in pain and anger, releasing a wave of hot flames into the air.

With Morningstar's grip on the tail's end, she lost control of her talon's grip and loosened it enough to lose it entirely. The now free claw kicked at Morningstar, sending her away and to find her grounding in the air again. Though, it did not come as a success to Vhagar. Lying limp in Morningstar's massive maw was nearly eight feet of her tail. Bit off entirely.

Though it would not kill Vhagar, she dragoness would never fly completely straight or as fluid as she once did. Tails were vital for balance. Morningstar trilled in victory as Meleys threw Vhagar to the ground, both flying up again as the larger was forced to get a running start in order to fly again.

Daenys panted slightly, seeing Rhaenys fly in sync next to her.

"Are you and Morningstar okay?" She asked, rising above the smoke and also out of breath.

She nodded, looking around her briefly. "I think so. Are you two?" Meleys had lost quite a bit of blood from her chest scratch, though did not look any less strong as she flew.

Meleys turned to Rhaenys, whining softly as she glanced at her rider. Rhaenys smiled solemnly, comforting her dragon. It did not go unnoticed by Daenys that she had chosen to stay silent rather than answer.

"Grandmother." Daenys said. "This is a victory. We have injured Vhagar greatly, and Sunfyre and Aegon might be dead as we speak."

Both turned to fly towards the open water, and Daenys breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She would take her grandmother home safely, where she could continue to advise her mother in Daenys' temporary absence.

They flew over Rook Rest's tallest tower, relieved to see that Vhagar had fled.

Meleys, ahead of Morningstar, was suddenly thrown up into the air. Morningstar roared and halted her flight with angled wings as the other two ascended high into the air. Meleys was trapped by the neck in Vhagar's maw now, unable to do anything but cry out in agony. As Morningstar flew up to try and meet them, hot blood poured down onto the dragon and rider. It burned, though Daenys forced herself to wipe it away and cover her eyes with a hand. Morningstar faultered slightly, blindly flying and shaking blood from her face.

High above Rook's Rest, Vhagar let go of Meleys, dropping her down to the shore. Go after Rhaenys or finish off Aemond from behind? Daenys had no time to think, she simply moved on instinct. "Grab her!" She shouted towards Morningstar, who swopped down and grabbed Meleys' heavy body by the sides. The dragon screeched in pain again, though still could not manage the strength to fly again. Morningstar grunted with the effort, barely able to carry Meleys in her claws. She would not be able to save Meleys. She was bigger than Morningstar and too heavy to be carried anywhere but the hover she held her in.

Rhaenys stared up at her granddaughter with apology already written across her face. She was content to die with her dragon, but heartbroken to leave her grandchildren and husband in the living world.

Daenys unbuckled herself swiftly, reaching down and maneuvering her body to hang off the saddle with all but a leg and arm holding her up. "Climb up, hurry!" She begged her grandmother, who was only attached to Meleys through her own buckle. Her hands were at her sides, already accepting her honorable dragonrider's death.

Daenys could not accept such a thing.

Daenys sobbed at the look, shaking her head. Tears fell towards Rhaenys, landing on or past her ashen face. "Grandmother, please—!" Vhagar had returned.

Morningstar was thrown by Vhagar's talons, losing her grin on The Red Queen. Daenys couldn't even watch her fall, spinning around in the air as Morningstar fought to find air. Above, Vhagar roared as Daenys screamed.

"Go!" She pleaded as Morningstar finally straightened out, immediately fleeing towards Harrenhall.

Vhagar did not follow this time, instead clumsily landing near Sunfyre's fallen spot. Daenys panted heavily, looking below and behind her desperately to spot Meleys. The dragon had fallen to the shores below, where the land met sea. So close to Dragonstone. They were so close to Dragonstone.

Daenys numbly looked forward, releasing her death grip on the saddle's handles. Red poured out from Morningstar's scaled side, revealing the damage Vhagar's throw had done to her. "I'm sorry, Morningstar." She whispered, leaning lamely over the saddle and staying like that for her entire flight.

🗡

Upon landing, Morningstar had been silent. Perhaps mourning Meleys just as much as Daenys was mourning Rhaenys. They had lived close together, flying often to Driftmark and Dragonstone as all the other dragons who got along did.

Daenys saw Caraxes waiting by the entrance, where she had left him. Weakly, she couldn't even greet the Blood Wrym as he called out for the dragon and rider. Cregan, too, waited for her. Dressed now, it seemed like he waited outside the entire time since she had left, with no way to follow her.

The thought vaguely registered in her mind as Morningstar huffed and leaned down. Through bleary eyes, she saw Cregan climb her wing and reach out to hold Daenys' face in his hand. He wiped a spot of blood from her brow, frowning.

Her sleeves had burnt off entirely, leaving small bits of fabric to conseal her modesty. The last thing she cared for at the moment, if she were honest. Dragon blood smeared across her as if it were her own: covering her face, hair, neck, arms, and dress. She did not have time to go to Dragonstone and don her scaled armor.

"What has happened?" He asked softly, working with the cuff of his sleeve to gently wipe away at her face. It was in vain, though, only working to smear it further when it had already dried. Daenys slumped her head into Cregan's neck, shaking her head defeatedly. He clutched her in his arms immediately, lifting her from her saddle and carefully bringing her down the wing and to the grass. He glanced at the wounded dragon behind him, who seemed to nod encouragingly at him as she continued laying down.

With only Ser Simon at the entrance, Cregan passed by the older man with a shared concerned glance. Davos had left after Daenys did that morning, to meet with Willem Blackwood and the Brackens before Caraxes and Daemon set off. Horseback was much slower, after all.

His return depended on his father's command, but if he did, it wouldn't be until later that night.

"Have someone bring food and a bowl of clean water to the Princess' chambers." Cregan told Simon, who nodded and went off to find a servant.

Daenys hung in his arms as if she were dead, despite being uninjured. She did not want to live, not with the sins that weighed so heavily on her soul. Three deaths, she was indirectly responsible for.

Two people Aemond had directly taken from her. Kinslayer, twice over. Mayhaps three, if Aegon did not survive his injuries.

Two deaths that Daemon did not intend for, but would be held responsible for by Daenys.

Luke, Jaehaerys, Rhaenys. The three names twirled around her mind like the ghosts themselves coming back to haunt her. She had finally learned to trust herself—trust her mind. And all she had gotten was a front seat view of the death instead of the ability to change it.

No, perhaps she could change it still. She just wasn't trying hard enough. She didn't push Rhaenys hard enough to retreat, nor fought Vhagar hard enough when she had the chance. Rhaenys died for her mistakes.

Morningstar almost did, too. Perhaps Aemond only gave her mercy to torment her with her guilt. He knew she couldn't kill him. Not like she could all those soldiers in front of the castle.

Ik I said Thursday for update day, but I got stopped a lot for various things. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint, wanted some cute and some action.

She was not a kinslayer, not directly. Even so, she had witnessed the deaths of four of her kin. Four would not be the last, not in this dance of dragons. It would not stop until all the dragons and their riders were dead.

🗡

Ñāqatubis qēlos - Morning Star

or Tubis qēlos, I was getting two different answers

Half of this chapter is me trying to make a cute day out. Beach episode! 😋 and procrastinating the process for the last half, which was a nightmare to write. Born to write whimical dreams and drama, forced to write dragons fighting to the death or whatever.

Will Cregan be mad that Daenys didn't come to him first? Left him, waiting for news of her death on dragonback?

Did anyone get the little Phantom of the Opera quote?

Every time I see Vhagar compared to other dragons, the reality of her ACTUALLY being the biggest is still so jarring. She isn't just a bit bigger by technicalities, but a behemoth compared to them. She makes Meleys, the third biggest in the world, look like a baby dragon compared to her. When she crushed those men to basically nothing with her hind foot, damn. Makes me wonder how big Balerion was and why every dragon after the Doom grew smaller and smaller. Probably due to some magic only available in Old Valyria, I would adore a show purely about the dragon country. I love dragons sm, I wish we had more live actions media for them 😪

Daenys talks about her perfect life with Cregan and all of their loved ones. I wonder how Winterfell functions as a society, being less formal than the south but still holding its own type of regality. I think the Starks in GOT were quite like the image she pictured, pre-show. Tight-knit though the siblings squabbled like true siblings do, but always having family dinner and telling each other about their days. They never got to get a normal ending, but I think if they had and the sons and daughters eventually married off, everyone would still visit Winterfell often to have get togethers and see each other. Take Ned Stark's parenting and compare it to Tywin, Robert, Stannis, etc. Very indifferent and detached, only seeing their kids as succesors and political pieces rather than kids to love and cherish.

Did Rhae Rhae name Daenys after her dreamer ancestor or after her father disguised with her ancestor's name, no one will know except for her (every time I type Daemon it trys to correct to Daenys PLS).

Daenys not wanting to seem thirsty for cregan, meanwhile he's getting the opposite idea and thinking she looked away because she was totally indifferent and he's like 🙁 i lost my touch (the winterfell ladies are DEFINITELY all over their Lord Stark) and maybe thinking she doesn't care for his looks, being a different standard of beauty from southern men.

Can you tell I love the gentlemanly hand kiss thing? It's a lost art, not even considered romantic most of the time and simply being a polite greeting or farewell gesture, but its so intimate in its own way compared to a hug or handshake.

ALSO thinking about Silverwing/Vermithor size difference. Silverwing is pretty small, like Syrax size. Vermithor is HUGE and is completely a different size category than the dragons below him including his lovely dragon wife. Syrax and Caraxes are similar sizes. It reminds me of that meme with the tiny male rabbit looking up at his humongous fem rabbit wife and its kinda reversed for Silver and Vermithor, and also mirroring Daenys and Cregan slightly with their size difference and color schemes.

One thing I've unintentionally done is make Daenys insecure about her being deemed mad and unsociable by others, but one thing she's never been insecure about is her looks. In fact, she doesn't deny when Cregan or a bard calls her beautiful or something of the like. I think that part of her character kind of ran away from me and did itself. Shes surprised when someone finds her tolerable to be around and seeks her conpany, but only happy when someone compliments looks. There's a lot of insecure MCs who worry about their looks (no shade to that, it makes characters more relatable) but I think Daenys hasn't been insecure of her appearances, only her actions.

I google a million stupid questions per chapter. This chapter's: can pearls be found in lakes? Of course they can, Cherry, muscles and clams still live in lakes.