I promise. This started out as just doodling Shiro… and then the idea invaded my brain and held me hostage unless I made bleach blonde Kuron a reality. He is here. You can pry him from my cold, dead hands!
The fact that the writers even considered having a scene where Shiro and Allura washed the mice together is proof that Shallura is meant to be romantic because you don’t consider some next-level fluff fic domestic bonding scene like “let’s wash your adorable pet mice together” for a pairing you don’t want to be romantic sorry I don’t make the rules
my favorite thing ever is when people send me really long and detailed arguments about why my otp won’t work because they literally have no effect on me. like, honey, i know you’re trying, but there is nothing you can say that i haven’t already heard or that will change my mind. you will have to pry my otps from my cold, dead hands
Notes: Thank you @briarlily for indulging my weakness for soulmate stories! I hope you like the spin I put on this one. :)
we are embers from the same fire
we are dust from the same star
Ben knows that the color he’s missing is green. Forests and fields and gardens in bloom: they’re all grey to his eyes. He wears a length of rope around his wrist—green, his mother promises—so that he’ll see it right away when he meets the boy or girl he’s bound to.
When he’s twelve, Ben discovers that his father still can’t see blue.
Dad is on-world, his first trip home in weeks, and his family takes a trip to the beach. Ben learns how to swim, then lounges on the sandy Naboo shore, soaking up afternoon sunlight until the warmth lulls him to sleep.
He wakes to find his parents laughing, their shadows casting a cool shadow over him. They make fun of his uneven sunburn, and Ben is on the verge of sitting up and complaining about it when his mother whispers, “The sky was so blue today. It’s a shame you couldn’t see it.”
“I don’t need to,” Dad says, his voice suddenly serious and gruff. “The view I’ve got is just fine by me, thanks.”
Ben can’t sleep that night. He knows, as well as any boy his age, what the lack of each color means, and blue is the color of safety, steadfastness, home. It’s said that people who see without it are restless souls. Wanderers and troublemakers who’ll never find satisfaction until they meet their mates.
A month later, Ben corners his father while he’s making repairs on the Falcon, and asks, “Will you leave us if you find her? The woman who could give you blue?”
Dad drops his wrench, cusses, and scrubs a hand over his face. “I, uh, did find her, when you were three.”
“What?” Ben asks. “Then—why can’t you see it?”
Dad tries to wave him closer, but Ben stays put. “Well I did, for a few hours, and that wasn’t half-bad—I finally understood why people make such a fuss about the sky.”
His father smiles at him expectantly, like he thinks this is funny. When Ben doesn’t smile back, he clears his throat and says, “Anyway, her name was Meera, and it was good to meet her, even if it didn’t change anything for me. After I said goodbye, and told her I wasn’t interested in all the soulmate shit, the blue went away again.”
Ben crosses his arms over his chest. “How can you not care? The Force makes our matches. Uncle Luke said so.”
“Yeah, well I’ve had that conversation with Luke too, and I’ll tell you what I told him: the Force can take the color blue and shove it.” Dad throws an arm around Ben’s shoulders and says, “I don’t need somebody to keep me tied down. Half the reason I love your mother so damn much is that she knows who I am, without some missing puzzle piece that’s supposed to fix me, and she still wants what I’ve got to offer.”
It’s not an answer Ben likes very much, but it’s the only one he’s going to get.
Green is the color of growth and transformation. People blind to it wrestle with their own hearts. They get tangled up in their shortcomings, frozen by the need for change that they have little capacity to make.
At least, this is what Ben has always heard, and it terrifies him. As the years pass, he understands that there is something wrong, something rotten right down to his blood and bones. And that rottenness will ruin him if he doesn’t find his mate soon.
Green is a long-dead dream, one that does not belong to Kylo Ren. He buried it with a bracelet of rope; he destroyed it, same as he destroyed the boy he once was.
But when Kylo lays eyes on the scavenger girl, the woods come to life. Takodana’s empty grey gives way to new, vibrant color. It’s stunning, overwhelming, so beautiful that the sight of it shocks him into stillness.
The girl gasps, her eyes trained on his lightsaber, her expression hungry and repulsed at once.
Red, Kylo thinks. She’d been missing red, before this moment.
It fills him with more pride than it should, because red is the color of passion, provocation, and fury. He’s always heard that the red-blind are a cold sort. Pragmatic and patient above all else, until they meet the one who will drive them to take risks, to indulge their impulses, to choose selfishly instead of wisely. This is what he’s meant to bring her: the kind of love that burns.
She’s ready to bolt—fear is written all over her—but he can’t let her run, not when he’s only just found her. Kylo draws the girl into unconsciousness with one measly push through the Force. He catches her before she falls, lifts her into his arms, and carries her back to his ship.
On the long walk out of the forest, he keeps his gaze trained ahead, focused on the task at hand, but all around him the world is green, green, green.
The scavenger’s name is Rey, and she’s seen the missing piece of that elusive map to Luke Skywalker. Kylo knows he should only care about prying it from her memory, but—
“It’s red, isn’t it?” he asks. “The color I brought you.”
Rey won’t meet his eyes when she says, “What does it matter?”
Kylo takes off his helmet, sets it aside, and approaches her. She’s restrained in the interrogation chair, a tool that has seen more blood than he wants to consider right now.
Rey frowns, her indifferent expression giving way to confusion. It seems he surprised her by removing his mask, and Kylo wonders what she thinks of him, whether she finds him pleasant or disappointing to look on. Not that he should concern himself with that.
He traces the curve of her cheek, his touch so light that he can barely feel her warmth through his gloves. “It matters because we’re bound to each other. For better or worse, this is what the Force wills.”
Rey glares at him so hatefully that it kindles a flare of shame under his skin.
“I don’t care,” she says.
Kylo trails his fingers across her jaw, then the pale line of her throat, down to the delicate hollow between her collarbones. Rey turns away from him and hisses, “Not even the Force could make me want a creature like you.”
Kylo unlocks her restraints, steps back, and smiles. “We’ll see.”
It’s stupid, releasing an enemy who’s strong in the Force, but he needs to face her on equal footing.
Rey scrambles out of the interrogation chair. Though she doesn’t attack him, the way Kylo expected, she keeps her distance. Waiting and watching, until he makes the first move.
He rushes to her, cutting through the space between them, and pushes Rey against the wall. She looks up at him, her pretty lips turned down in a scowl, and somehow she’s even more beautiful when she’s angry.
He bends lower, closer. “You know what red means, don’t you?”
Rey shoves at his chest, but he’s too tall, too solid, for it to move him. They grapple, yanking and pushing each other, until Kylo has her pinned, caught between his body and the wall. They touch, their hands lingering too long, too intimately, for a proper fight, but there’s nothing soft or forgiving about it. Only fury and an undercurrent of something else, something more. She’s so warm, steeped in the invisible aura of the Force, and he wants—
Something has broken within him, shifted and turned its sharp edges inward, but Kylo doesn’t care. This moment is his, this moment is theirs, and nothing will take it from him.
Kylo never looks for the map. When he finally finds the courage to break away from Rey, he tells her to run. He wonders if he’ll lose green from his sight as suddenly as he gained it, but no, it stays, and that gives him hope.
Later, when Kylo stands on a narrow bridge and faces Han Solo, he thinks, You should’ve chosen the woman who could give you blue.
Then there’s a moment—one quiet moment charged with the weight of his choices—when it would be easy to cut down his father.
Instead, Kylo hands over his lightsaber. It doesn’t matter that there’s no green on this bridge, because he can see new possibilities unfolding around him in the Force. An opportunity to break away from Snoke, a chance to be free.
❝ Goddamn bugs. ❞
❝ Don’t “Sir” me! You have no idea who you’re
dealing with! ❞
❝ When did they let you out of jail? ❞
❝ What in the hell is going on?! ❞
❝ Really? I’m just a figment of your
❝ God, we’re a gullible breed. ❞
❝ Yo, man, your luck just ran out. ❞ ❝ And when he gets here, I’ll kick his ass
too. ❞ ❝ You don’t understand. Your world is gonna
end. ❞ ❝ What are you?! ❞ ❝ What the hell is your problem? ❞ ❝ My problem is you being all up in my damn
face all the time. ❞
❝ I think he threw him off the roof. ❞ ❝ Yeah, sure. He said the world was coming to
an end. ❞ ❝ Nothing is what it seems, kid. ❞ ❝ Sure – I’m a big crack dealer now. I just
work here because I love the hours. ❞ ❝ Why do you lie to me? I hate it when you
lie. ❞ ❝ He’s crazy when he’s
❝ Put down the gun and put your hands on the
counter! ❞ ❝ You are under arrest. You have the right to
remain silent. ❞ ❝ Do you know how much that hurts? ❞ ❝ See a head doesn’t do that, it doesn’t just
grow back. ❞ ❝ Can’t help you, kid. Only comfort I can
offer is that tomorrow, you won’t remember
a thing. ❞ ❝ See what I mean about tequila? You’re a
bright young man, [name]. Just lay off the
sauce. I’ll see you tomorrow, nine a.m.
❝ Another beer? ❞ ❝ I’ll tell you what it looks like, it looks
like poison. Don’t you take that away, I’m
eating that, damn it! It is poison, isn’t
it?! ❞ ❝ You can have my gun when you pry it from my
cold, dead fingers! ❞ ❝ I don’t
appreciate your jumping down my throat about
it. ❞ ❝ He’s got a real problem with authority. ❞ ❝ I hope you know what you’re doing. ❞
❝ You! Hey, what’s goin’ on? ❞ ❝ You brought the aliens flowers? ❞ ❝ I see. Not to change the subject, but when
was your last cat-scan? ❞ ❝ What you’ll gain in perspective, you’ll
lose in ways you’re too young to comprehend.
You give up everything. Sever every human
contact. No one will know you exist. Ever. ❞ ❝ Well, well, well. Movin’ right in, are we?
Think we own the place? ❞ ❝ Just what exactly do you think you’re doing? ❞ ❝ You know, I have noticed an infestation
here. Everywhere I look, in fact. Nothing
but undeveloped, unevolved, barely conscious
pond scum. So convinced of their own
superiority as they scurry about their
short, pointless lives. ❞ ❝ All right. I’m in because there’s some
next-level shit going on around here, and
I’m with that. ❞
❝ Cool, slick. Now about those skills of yours,
❞ ❝ Don’t touch that! ❞ ❝ You’ll conform to the identity we give you,
eat where we tell you, live where we tell
you, get approval for any expenditure over
a hundred dollars. ❞ ❝ We got the use of unlimited technology from
the entire universe and we cruise around in
this? ❞ ❝ You know, ya’ll gotta learn how to talk to
people. You could be a little kinder and
gentler. ❞ ❝ Now did that hurt? ❞ ❝ Never push the button. ❞ ❝ Oh God! I see it I see it I see it! ❞
❝ Congratulations! It’s a lizard. ❞ ❝ Are you here to make fun of me too? ❞ ❝ Damn. If he was this ugly before he was an
alien… ❞ ❝ Whoa! That thing erases her memory, and you
give her a new one? ❞ ❝ So basically you have a racial problem with
all insect-based life forms? ❞ ❝ You have very pretty eyes. ❞ ❝ – that thing probably gives you brain
cancer! ❞ ❝ “Never hurt her before”?! How many times
have you done the flashy thing to this poor
❝ What the hell happened to make you such a
callous son of a bitch? ❞ ❝ Doesn’t anybody believe in sleep around
here? ❞ ❝ You’re attracted to me, aren’t you?
❞ ❝ Who robs a jewelry store and leaves the
jewels? ❞ ❝ This guy had a serious crush on his cat. ❞ ❝ There’s always an Alien Battle Cruiser…or
a Korlian Death Ray, or…an intergalactic
plague about to wipe out life on this
planet, and the only thing that lets people
get on with their hopeful little lives is
that they don’t know about it. ❞ ❝ Don’t worry about the bug. He’s not leaving
town. We’ve got his ship. ❞ ❝ Of course that guy’s an alien. That’s gotta
be the worst disguise I’ve ever seen. ❞
❝ The, uh…dog owes my friend some money. ❞
❝ Right, well, the cat is, uh – the cat’s a
witness in a murder case and I’m going to
need to take it with me. ❞
❝ It’s a long trip. I’ll need a snack. ❞
❝ Mind if I smoke? ❞
❝ You’re a wonderful dad. ❞
❝ You don’t get it. I’ve won. It’s over. ❞
❝ Move away from the vehicle and put your
hands on your head. ❞
❝ That did not go at all like I had planned. ❞ ❝ This guy’s really starting to bug me.
❞ ❝ Stop right there, or I’ll start wailing on
your waxy, pointed ass! ❞ ❝ Getting eaten!? That was your plan!? ❞ ❝ Oh no, I can’t do this job by myself. ❞
I realise I’m gonna get hate for this, but at this point I don’t care.
I’m a Shallura shipper, and I only really see Shiro and Keith’s relationship as brotherly, but I personally don’t mind Shaladin.
We all know Shiro’s twenty-five, Pidge is fourteen, and Keith, Lance and Hunk’s ages aren’t specified, but they’re in their “late teens”, which can go from seventeen to TWENTY-ONE, making them legal. Either way, they’re fictional characters, so you can just age them all up and it’s fine.
From what I’ve seen between Shiro and Keith’s canon interactions especially, they have a mutual respect for eachother, and Shiro’s a sensible guy, so if they did get into a relationship, it wouldn’t be an abusive one.
If you still have a problem with it, fine, but you don’t need to go out of your way to call Shaladin shippers disgusting, like how much do you have to hate your own life to spread so much negativity over fictional characters. Block the tags if it makes you that uncomfortable. I hate incest ships, but I don’t go bashing people who like them. Leave the shippers alone. Leave the VAs alone.
you wanna know what @venenix and i have a lot of feelings about? viktor and yuuri’s wedding + bachelor’s party. admittedly, we have a lot of feelings about viktor and yuuri in general, but we spent roughly three hours texting headcanons back and forth about the night before the wedding and we though it’d be a pity to keep them in our phones, so here goes
Viktor and Yuuri obviously get married in Saint Petersburg, considering how Yuuri moved there (and please imagine Yuuri saying “yes we have a lot of beautiful memories in Hasetsu, but Saint Petersburg!!! your home!!! our home!!!” and Viktor proceeding to bawl his eyes out in Russian)
they’d also get married during the off season, obviously. and the off season is in summer. you know what Saint Petersburg has, during the summer??? WHITE NIGHTS. BE STILL MY PUSHKIN-LOVING HEART.
is there anything more beautiful than the thought of our favorite skaters strolling down Nevsky Prospekt under the white nights i dO NOT THINK SO
as for the bachelor’s parties, they obviously start our divided in Team Viktor and Team Yuuri and then they all meet up at a night club and things can only go downhill from there
there’s a lot of Phichit singing Abba, specifically say i dooooooo i do i do i do i do with accompanying Guang Hong+Leo chorus
when they meet up at the night club, Yuuri has already drank his fair share of champagne and is reADY TO GO BRING BACK SOCHI!YUURI
viktor is Ascending
somehow Chris has decided that he has to keep the future bridegrooms Pure and Chaste™ and is being a cockblocker extraordinaire
also he’s dressed in one of those very tacky “sexy nun” costumes that you find everywhere in Italian carnivals and you can pry this headcanon from my cold and very catholically raised dead hands
“NO TOUCHING VIKTOR”, “but—”, “YOU’RE NOT MARRIED YET DON’T LIVE IN SIN”, “chris what the actual fuck”
“CHRIS WE’VE BEEN LIVING TOGETHER FOR THREE YEARS ALREADY”, “IN SIN”, “CHRIS YOU’RE NOT MARRIED”, “THAT DOESN’T COUNT”
“I CHOOSE A LIFE OF HOLINESS AND CHASTITY VIKTOR”, “YOU’RE WEARING FISHNETS! AND YOU LIVE WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND”, “HOLINESS”, “CHRIS YOU HAD THE POLICE CALLED ON YOU TWICE BECAUSE YOU WERE SO LOUD”, “CHASTITY”
half through the evening no one can find Yuri and Otabek because they’re speeding through first and second base behind the dj booth
“i fucking hate those two”, “of course you do Yura”, “they’re all over each other look at them!”, “Yura you literally have a hand down my pants not that i’m complaining”
during a pause between two songs JJ randomly shouts that “ISABELLA JE T’AIME LET’S HAVE AN ENFANT” and it’s a bit weird but Isabella is just In Love
sara and mila take hold of a sofa and spend half the night making out because they haven’t seen each other in a while and really missed each other
since it has been discovered that Seunggil is an affectionate!drunk you know he’ll be all over Phichit who is very flirty and so incredibly stunning that a little bit of Seunggil’s soul Dies
michele has found out that mediterranean blood mixes incredibly well with alcohol and is dancing like his life depends on it and Emil Sees Heaven
when it’s time to go home Phichit drags Yuuri to his hotel room because “you can’t sleep together the night before your wedding are you insane?”
the next morning Chris wakes up with a random stripper’s underwear on his head and shakes Viktor awake classic cliché Hollywood comedy style (but considering how we know that he climbed the Hasetsu Castle naked i will not apologize for making him Extra™ not now not ever)
“VIKTOR OMG WE HAVE TO GO TO THE WEDDING WAKE UP”, “why who’s getting married”, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN WHO’S GETTING MARRIED VIKTOR YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED”
viktor’s eyes turn teary and his lips quiver as he asks “really? with yuuri?” and then he starts bawling
but the ceremony is beautiful everyone cries we cry and then they party all over again under the Saint Petersburg white nights amen
Summary: Two weeks after waking up with no recollection of the people and ship around you, you take your future in your hands and try to piece together your past and the events that lead up to you losing your memory of the last five years. This means finally meeting Scotty, the man you just learned is your husband.
Word Count: 1,353
Author’s Note: I took a lot of inspiration for this scene from a story my mom told me about the aftermath of a car accident she and my dad were in. He had to wake her up over the course of the night and ask her really difficult “easy” questions to make sure her memory was still intact. And now that Mom’s reading this series with y’all, I thought I’d share. I hope you enjoy! Epilogue posts tomorrow.
Is this what it feels like to be dead? It’s blissful, like the moments coming down from orgasm when your limbs fill with sugary warmth and your mind loses traction.
But surely the afterlife would not smell like the sickbay. That other note… there in the background… it’s him. The afterlife would smell like him, smoky and steely, hot and cold, but all him. All Monty.
Expand the diaphragm, drag in air, and open the eyelids. Open. They take a moment, they’re glued shut by sleep and something grainy, but they open and you stare into the white-lit ceiling in sickbay. This is Long-Term Room 3. You know that crack in the light covering. You stayed here with Monty when he shattered his ankle in the shuttle bay. McCoy had to pin him back together nearly from scratch. It took the better part of three days.
You cast your eyes down to the warm heat on your hip. A beautiful mess of strawberry hair flops over Monty’s eyes as he sleeps. His fingers rest in a tangle with yours.
Have I mentioned my Beanstalk romance and sexuality headcanons because boy do I have a lot of them. I would apologize for my reprehensible shipping, but I’m not sorry. I’m a little sorry I’m not sorry though, so there’s that.
Jack is bi. Jack is really really bi. Since he grew up with a huge family surrounded by relationships and crushes in every gender combination, Jack tends to just forget that straight is a thing people can be unless he’s explicitly reminded. This makes him terrible to try to confide in about your unrequited crush. He’s very casual about touching if he doesn’t get ‘please back off’ signals, and is not great at recognizing where most people draw the line between platonic and romantic touching. He’s probably left a string of crushes behind him because he didn’t watch where he aimed his carefree grin and really good hugs. (Jack gives fantastic hugs and you can’t tell me otherwise. He’s big and warm and he wraps his arms all the way around you and maybe lifts you up some, and holds you for as long as you want without making it awkward.) Jack had a really big puppy crush on Liam for a while after he arrived, but it faded quickly because 1. Liam did nothing to encourage it and 2. Bea. Jack falls in loyalty much easier than he falls in love.
George is mostly interested in girls but largely uninterested in romance. When she thinks about settling down it’s in a single apartment near a university with books and maybe a cat, and does not necessarily include a significant other although if someone brought it up she’d agree that it probably sounds nice. She had a little on and off thing with May when they crossed paths but it never progressed beyond kissing, and they both knew it couldn’t really be serious or sustainable. Everyone joked that she and Jack were a couple but they never saw each other romantically.
They love each other, but it’s loyal, die for you, slightly too co-dependent, shieldbrother love, not romantic love.
Not that the two of them (and the three of them when they still had Liam) didn’t have some intense platonic cuddlepiles though. It gets cold in the mountains and George simply does not care enough to lose at no romo chicken.
Laney is demi, and was always quietly resistant to the idea of romance. She wasn’t going to go into a diplomatic arranged marriage, and she definitely wasn’t going to waste her time slobbering all over one of her peers. She has trouble relating to other people’s relationships or seeing the attraction in them. She doesn’t have any interest in touching or kissing anyone, unless she knows them very well and is starting to fall for them. The quickest way to completely lose her interest forever is to try to impress her by out-competing her, and she will shoot someone down hard and fast for it. She falls in love slowly and reluctantly, and she doesn’t quite trust the process. It takes her a while to accept it. She doesn’t want to be dramatically wooed or pursued, but she does want the object of her affections to court her and show her they care. Winning Laney’s heart is all about having her back and noticing the small things.
Rupert is bi-romantic ace, and he loves traditional, old-fashioned romance. He’s not one for big, extravagant gestures, but he’s the sort to come home with a bouquet of roses to make them happy, who never forgets anniversaries or their favorite food, who tucks a note and a snack into their pocket where they’ll find it later in the day just when they need it. He has some issues about being touched (which get especially strong post Remember the Dust) and needs partners who are patient and very respectful of his boundaries. He dated a few schoolmates, but they were always casual relationships, without a passionate spark like he secretly hoped for. His shortest relationship was with a boyfriend who didn’t respect his comfort zone about touching and sex, so Rupert ended it. He’s very conscious of what makes a healthy relationship and red flags, and he gives excellent relationship advice.
Grey is aromantic asexual. He caught a mention of it in a book, realized it was relevant, then hunted up the definitive books on the subject of sexuality, read them cover to cover, and quietly concluded that this was what applied to him. Once he had it safely labelled and defined, he got on with the rest of his reading. It’s important to be precise and categorize things properly. If Grey was ever the subject of a quiet crush from a fellow sage, they never confessed, which is good because Grey would have turned them down so bluntly and summarily that it would have been rude, and then he wouldn’t have understood why they started tearing up because he was just being informative. (He would have felt bad though.)
Post Remember the Dust, all four of them live together and they are A Thing. Is it a romantic thing? Is it a platonic thing? Is it a currently platonic but possibly moving towards romantic thing? No one is entirely sure. They’re certainly not, but what is certain is that the four of them are going to spend the rest of their lives together. (I’m not certain either frankly, I am equally happy with either them being poly for each other and Grey is there too because they are his regardless of his romantic disinterest, or being platonic.)
And some bonus reprehensible trash because being a homestuck means never not being able to ruin everything you touch with quadrants:
Jack<>George: Jack and George were moirails. They were textbook moirails, they were the the platonic ideal of moirails. All the places where one fit into the other, where one compensated for the other without thinking, all those co-dependent, fight with you, kill for you, foxhole bond, breathe in sync feelings are the moirailegiance stories are made of. And then, Jack left.
Jack<>Grey: Oops kiddo, you spilled your protective instincts all over the place, now look what you’ve done
Jack<3<The Seeress: Imagine that scene from Mulan where the guard lights the signal pyre, except instead of a pyre it’s a big pile of garbage and instead of a guard it’s me. Now all of China knows I have reprehensible ships. (You will pry this hideous hatemance out of my cold dead hands.)
(You’ll pry this cliche from my cold dead hands (Get it? Because hypothermia? Well at least I make myself laugh :P ))
Am I blind, or can I just not open my eyes?
whimpered, wailed, but I could barely hear myself. It was as if an old artic
frost had slithered into my ears and frozen the eardrums solid. My head lolled
to the side, hitting a hard, metallic surface. Through the thin skin of my
cheek, its last wisps of warmth seeped into me. My mind began to teeter into
the abyss, but something urgent, a primal, yellow fear streaked through my
consciousness, jerking me back from the edge. I had to stay awake. If I wanted
to survive, I had to stay absolutely, painfully awake.
wrenched itself from my belly, and I summoned all the willpower left within me just
to peel back my eyelids a sliver, groaning at the effort. The first image that greeted
my wakeful gaze were the big, block letters O-R-C-A, the O halfway buried in
the permafrost. A memory was scratching at my skull. Where was I? What was I doing
before waking up here? With much headache, I managed barely to recall flashing
red lights, yelling, plastic cushions pushing into my back and breast, someone’s
hand gripping mine.
HOW ABOUT one where Petyr sneaks into Sansa’s chambers the night Jon leaves for Dragonstone. One shot.
So I accidentally slipped, tripped, and wrote too much because I liked this prompt so much. Oopsies. Anyway, here’s my baby. It’s the second fic I’ve ever wrote and the first I’ve posted myself instead of on anon.
“She looked at him, then. She looked at him and he could feel
that spark in the air. In the dark of Winterfell he was the Prince of the
Dragonflies again, surrounded by every little spark that fluttered between
Warnings for: NSFW, mentions of past abuse, rape and assault, and Godswood scene references