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Snow White and the Seven Bandits - Jacaerys Velaryon.

Story I of Between the Pages: a HOTD x fairytale series.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist here. main blog masterlist here. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader .𖥔 ݁ ˖ warnings: depictions of violence and use of poison. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ word count: 11.4k .𖥔 ݁ ˖ note: this is a long one. the others in the series will be the same, perhaps even longer for a few, so would you be interested in me dividing them into parts for the future or just keep them as one text around 10k and release at once?

“It is imperative that you both exhibit the best of manners,” The voice of the kingdom's Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, carried throughout the carriage. The wheelhouse held her, Jacaerys, and Lucerys. The youngest, Joffrey, had stayed in Kings Landing with their father Harwin - as he is the prince regent and can act in Rhaenyra’s stead. The carriage rocked as it made its way down a country road.

“Mother, we are always on our best behaviour,” Jacaerys responded, though it seemed his attention was somewhere else in pure boredom. Lucerys, who had been sitting across from him, sent a look of doubt his way.

“Be that as it may, the Lady of Stonehill is… sensitive. The Lord of Stonehill lost his previous wife on the birthing bed. A few years after marrying a new wife, he passed. His daughter followed him in death a month afterwards. So please, do not bring up any subjects around Lady Alicent that may offend her. It may have happened years ago, but those scars do not fade.” Rhaenyra pressed the importance of their behaviour for their visit to Castle Stonehill.

“Yes, mother.” Lucerys gave her a wide smile, the candied lemons he was snacking on made his cheeks puff out.

Rhaenyra leaned to the side to enter Jace’s field of vision as he stared out of one of the wheelhouse windows. She raised her brow and waited for an answer.

Jace broke out of his trance and smiled at his mom, though it did not reach his eyes, “Yes, we will be on our best behaviour.”

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎 ༻⊰───⋅

The afternoon sun shone down on the walled-in garden of Castle Stonehill. The white quartzite with streaks of gray reflected the sunlight, casting glittered specks of light across the garden. Songbirds chirped as they flew from tree to tree. The abundance of foliage covered every open area in green. The types of flowers present filled all of the colours of a rainbow and butterflies flew from patch to patch to suck the nectar from the plants.

It was an area of peace and safety which you frequented often when not working. After the arduous hours of work throughout the morning, you relished the break of rest you got in the afternoon. They were spent in the garden, tending to the flowers that grew there. It was the only place in the castle that your stepmother, Alicent, never touched.

Your birth had caused your mother to pass, leaving you with your father. He was a kind and gentle man, who often spent more time with you than he should have given his lordly duties. He did all he could to raise you on his own. His gentle voice and demeanour rarely fit his appearance, for the man looked strong enough to snap a log over his thigh. Many years after the loss of his wife, he married again. The woman, Alicent, had presented herself as nothing but a dutiful and godfearing wife - a trick most wicked. While your father had lived, she treated you with kindness. It was a veiled sweetness that covered up the foul taste beneath; jealousy, want, and animosity.

Never was there a facade more barbarous than a woman who cut another woman down.

Upon the death of the Lord of Stonehill, Alicent’s cloaked contempt compounded. The inheritance of the castle would pass to you once you came of age, an outcome most ardently rejected by Alicent. She spared your life under the guise of benevolence, should you fake your death and take up a job as a scullery maid in the castle. It was merciful, in your stepmother’s words, to keep you alive. However, the pain of losing your father and your previous life stung the heart that lay in your chest. A torture disguised as mercy.

Through the years your resolution did not sway. There was a resilience in your kindness, both inwards and outwards, that you displayed to the world daily. What had angered you at first became nothing but a small sting. There are worse fates that people could meet.

The day had been ordinary, inexplicably so. You found yourself in your usual routine, picking flowers and singing in your few moments of daily rest. The knife in your hand cut the stems of some of the flowers and you placed them in a wicker basket on the ground next to you. Upon turning your gaze to one of the hedges, you saw that it appeared down, as though lacking water. You put down the knife and walked over to a well placed at the centre of the garden.

Your voice continued to carry a tune as you pulled on a rope to lower a bucket down. As you went about your way, your voice carried over the walls and into the courtyard next to the garden.

Now, Jacaerys had not wished to go for a walk, but quickly upon their arrival at the castle he and Luke were sent away. The adults were talking, and therefore the youth must let them be. A total disgrace, in Jace’s mind, as he was set to become king and therefore felt he should be included. Alas, the stern gaze of his mother had led to him walking aimlessly in a courtyard with his brother and hoping that the day could finish.

Jace was walking with Luke beside him and the younger brother had not stopped talking. He was explaining his thoughts on everything they had seen during their trip, waving his hands around to emphasize certain points. Jace nodded along to his observations. It was during a particular rant about the knights of the castle's armour that Jace heard a voice in the distance. The tune carried over the gentle wind, gracing his ear in sweet pleasantry.

“Do you hear that?” Jace interrupted Luke’s rant.

Luke halted, “What?”

“That voice… it sounds like singing.” Jace did not wait for any response before he picked up his pace, marching across the courtyard. He followed the wall to his right until the voice got louder.

“What in the seven hells are you doing?” Luke had been confused by his brother's actions. The whole trip he had been unusually bored, often unfocused and inattentive. Now, it seemed that life was breathed into him again.

“Don’t you hear that?” Jace looked at the thick growing vines on the wall, rapt by the singing.

“Someone is singing, does it matter?” Luke responded, “We should go back to mother.”

“In a moment,” Jace spoke. He stepped forward and grabbed onto one of the vines. His gaze swept across the wall as if he was unsure of his movements. Deciding not to question it, Jace tugged on the vine to test its strength. Upon finding the results he wanted, he began to climb.

When Jaceaerys reached the top, he took in the sight. It was a flower garden. Despite the countless different flowers all mixed around, it looked organized and well-maintained. The singing that he heard came from a woman by a well. She was fetching water and dressed like all the maids, in rags made of cloth. However, Jace was not a blind man and could clearly see how beautiful she was. He paused for a moment and debated on whether or not he should disturb her. His mother taught him better, that a proper man should have manners and not disturb a lady. However, there was an enchanting allure from her.

“Well,” Luke began, “What do you see?” At that point, Lucerys had become intrigued by his brother's actions.

“She’s beautiful,” Jace muttered. Luke was unable to hear his brother's response and watched as Jace moved to climb down the other side. He stood there, agape at his brother's impulsive nature - a trait he knew he would never get used to.

“What an idiot.” He muttered.

You were oblivious to the pitfalls of steps coming from the other side of the well; too lost in your song to care. You were pulling the bucket of water up and had it settle on the edge when an unknown voice broke you from your daydream.

“Hello.” It was not a very deep voice, but the timbre notes were warm, like the sun's rays on a hot day.

“Seven Hells!” You shout in fear, the pail of water falling back down the well when the rope in your hands is dropped. The man in front of you rushed to the well wall on the other side.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He assured.

You looked back and forth across the garden, scared that Alicent would be looking in. She did not like it when you talked to servants, and you had no idea how angry she would be if she found out you were talking to the prince.

“I am fine,” You did not wish to prolong this conversation any longer than it had to be, so you hoped a curt response would be a hint for him to leave.

“I’m Jacaerys Velaryon,” The man spoke, “Who are you?”

You froze at his words. He was the prince. Oh gods, you had just rudely tried to dismiss the prince. There was a moment of rushed thinking, wondering how you could get yourself out of this situation. There was no shame in running, perhaps. Maybe wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Nice to meet you, my prince,” You bowed lowly and kept your gaze lowered to the stone on the ground, “I am simply a maid.” Your hands smoothed over the scratchy fabric of your gown, inwardly cringing at how underdressed you were in front of him.

“Yes, but what is your name?” Jacaerys stepped around the well to be closer. He was dressed like a prince. Rich, finely woven fabric of dark blue matched the silver embroidered embellishments on the ends of his sleeves, around his collar, and down the front of his surcoat. The garments themselves were sure to be made by a multitude of servants, a look of divinity next to the one-colour floor-length dress you wore, which was accompanied by a light beige apron stained slightly from the dirt of cleaning and tending to the garden.

“I must go, my prince.” You grabbed the sides of your dress and held them out as you moved down in a short curtsey. He looked confused at your insistent need to be away from him, something you were sure he was not used to considering his status. You turned and began your way to a servant's entrance at the side of the castle.

“Wait! I’m sorry if I scared you, truly,” Jace spoke up and positioned himself in front of you, “Please, I just wish to talk.” He looked as though he wanted to reach out but refrained from doing so. There was a certain glint in his eyes that was unrecognizable. You were used to the way men would threaten you with their gaze, an unsaid selfish want, but Jace did not have that look. It was something kind, an emotion you had not been on the receiving end for many years.

“There is nothing a servant can say, my prince.” You curtseyed again - a signal of a final dismissal - and moved to the small oak door. The heavy metal of the hand felt cool under your grasp. You yanked it open and closed it behind you. The transition from the warm sun-soaked outside to the cold and damp servants' hallway gave a temporary shock to your body.

Back in the garden, Jace stood defeated. He felt horrible for scaring a woman - something his mother would sharply scold him on if she ever found out, of which Harwin would sure to join. That was not how you were raised… to corner a woman like that, what were you thinking?

At a window far up on the castle, Lady Alicent stood looking out, having watched their meeting transpire.

He retreated to the wall he had scaled and grasped the vines in his hand. Lugging himself up, he returned to the top of the wall to his brother standing on the other side. Lucerys was close to going for help because of how long his brother was gone.

“What in the seven hells was your reasoning for that? Mother told us to be on our best behaviour, yet here you are scaling the walls of Lady Alicent’s castle!” Lucerys scolded as Jace dropped down next to him.

Jace adjusted his clothing as he huffed to catch his breath from the drop, “You should have seen her, Luke.”

“Seen who?” Luke had his arms crossed and a look of vexation moved across his face.

“The lady in the garden.A servant. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone like that.” Jace looked sort of dazed.

“So… you saw some random servant?” Luke said.

“I’m telling you, there was something about her… she did not act like one.” Jace marched along the courtyard path and to the nearest entrance to the castle. Luke followed closely behind.

“All the servants here look the same. Rags and all.” Luke dismissed his brother's whims.

“Rags cannot hide her gentle face.” Jacaerys’ tone left little room for further resistance from his brother.

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

You sat in your room and skillfully embroidered a patch of fabric. The wooden loop was clutched between the fingers of your left hand as the right held the needle. It was a patch of vines being woven, like the ones the prince climbed to get into the garden. It had only been a day since your encounter with Jacaerys Velaryon, yet the memory clung to your mind and refused to let go. He was kind, uncharacteristically so compared to the people you have met in your life.

The sudden opening of the door to your small chambers had you rushing to get up. The sewing fell from your lap and to the floor. You were frustrated by the sudden disturbance but swallowed it once seeing who was at your door.

“Lady Alicent,” You bowed to your stepmother and watched as she stood in the doorframe of your room. Her judging eyes moved around the small space, cluttered with books and other belongings - the few you were allowed to keep. A look of disgust twinged at the corner of her mouth. She stepped into the room, her emerald gown glimmering in the small streak of light from the tiny window placed well above viewing height. Your room was ultimately like a cage but disguised as a servant's quarter.

“You have done well with your chores as of late,” Alicent began, “Good work should be met with rewards, I am generous that way.” Her words were short and snippy like it burdened her to even speak to you.

“Thank you, my lady.” You bit back the array of insults boiling within.

“Ser Erryk will escort you to the woods, where you can pick wildflowers. Perhaps there may be new ones you can add to your garden.” Despite the kindness of her words, the tone dripped with false sincerity.

“You are very kind, lady Alicent.” While there was an unsettling nature to her gaze, you were excited to go out in the woods beyond the castle. Since your father's death, you had been kept secluded in the castle walls, unable to even venture into some of the halls.

“Yes, well, you best get ready then,” Alicent muttered before vacating the room as quickly as she could. The door was open still and a guard stood where she once was.

“Good morrow, my lady,” Ser Erryk was perhaps the only guard in the castle who clued in on your identity. He was only a young man when your father died and his memory of your face stayed with him. When you were allowed to leave your room many years after your staged death to pose as a scullery maid, he instantly clocked into your true identity. He kept it a secret, for fear of what Alicent would do to him if she found out that he knew.

“Hello, Ser Erryk. Let me just get my basket.”

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

You hummed away as you tended to the wildflowers on a hill. You were taken on a carriage ride deep in the woods. It had been the most excitement you ever had, for the feeling of freedom rippled through your body. Ser Erryk stood by the carriage a few feet away, watching as you went about digging up dirt and roots of pretty colours you have yet to add to your collection.

A shadow loomed over where you sat, and your head turned to see Ser Erryk had gotten closer. He stood above you with his sword raised in the air. You did not have it in you to scream, for a wave of hopelessness crashed over your body. A sense of betrayal seeped into your bones. One of the only men who had yet to treat you with antagonism or lecherousness had hidden their evil deep below the surface.

Ser Erryk’s arms had stopped with the sword raised. They shook ever so slightly in his frozen position. His face was twisted, pain and uncertainty carved across the skin. He stumbled back and threw the sword to the ground, curses flung from his mouth. His breathing was laboured and his chest rose up and down.

“Run.” His gravelly voice hitched slightly.

You paused, unsure of his display of goodwill, “What?”

“I am sorry I ever tried, my lady. Alicent has my brother… she said she would kill him. Go, run far from here.” Ser Erryk spoke.

“And your brother?” You questioned.

“I will think of something,” He responded. He reached to his side and pulled out a long dagger, holding it out to her, “Take this and go, my lady.”

You got up on shaky legs and slowly grasped the hand of the dagger. It felt awkward in your hand. There was never a point in your life where you ever held something sharp besides a kitchen knife or sewing needle. It was heavy and unnatural.

“Thank you, Ser Erryk. I will never forget this.” You nodded to him. You turned to the woods, looking into the looming dark depths. The fear you had felt towards him had now moved to the woods. The dark trunks stood like knights on the ground, their looming presence instilling dread. Whatever nocturnal beasts lurked within the murky bowels of the forest suddenly seemed less frightful than the beast that would be waiting should you return to the castle.

Death in the woods felt more merciful than whatever Alicent would do to you.

Steeling your emotions, you surged forward. Your jogged movements quickly picked up to a steady pace. You leapt over each root and bush in your way. There was no path you followed, only faith to guide you from this terror. The trees surrounding you morphed into figures like monsters. The winding branches twisted around and appeared as hands reaching out to grab her.

Your feet carried you beyond the winding hills and scattered foliage. Tears stung at your cheeks as the cool wind dried the saltwater on your face. What felt like hours, but had only been a single one, passed as you stumbled over a branch and fell. The choked gasps of your sobbing echoed in the forest. You were hunched over and crying.

When you pulled back to sit on the ground, you looked up and spotted a decrepit cottage in the distance. You had happened across an open space in the forest. A stream cut through and there was a small shoddy built bridge over the water and a path leading to the cottage. It was a plaster and wood building with a thatched roof. A single chimney was seen going from the bottom of one of the sides to the top of the roof. It appeared to be two storeys high.

You approached cautiously, wondering who may be around.

“Hello?” You called out and then waited, but no reply came, “Is anyone there?” There was no response. You moved to one of the windows and saw it covered in dust, you tried to wipe it away, but it only smudged. The cottage had been left a long time ago. Your hand reached for the nob and turned. Surprisingly, the door opened.

You peered in to see the state of disarray inside. What little furniture could be seen was covered in a layer of dust. When you moved inside the cottage, the dust made you cough violently.

“Oh, this place is dreadful.” You mutter. There was a broom placed beside the fireplace, also covered in dust. You picked it up and shook the dust off, with only one thought in your mind. This is going to be a nightmare to clean.

You had spent the next few hours cleaning the cottage from top to bottom. Countless tasks were completed as time went on. While it was exhausting, it felt like a piece of freedom. Here, you were cleaning because you wished to and for yourself, not to the demands of Alicent and any of her friends.

Earlier, in the upstairs area of the cottage - which was more of a loft space - you found seven beds placed beside one another. It filled you with sadness. At one point in time, this cottage had been full of a loving family, something you had little experience with. You could not help but wonder what could have happened to them.

You finished the last of your tasks and sighed loudly. Your hands rested on your hips as you scanned around the open living space. It looked like an entirely new place as if you tore down the old cottage and built a new one. Your exhaustion was something never felt before. The events of the day finally came down on you; the early morning picking wildflowers, Ser Erryk sparing your life, the run through the woods, and lastly your cleaning of the cottage. The beds upstairs in the lofts seemed comfier than ever. You pranced up the stairs and plopped on one of them. The soup stewing over the fireplace could be left unattended for a good long while, so with that worry out of your mind, you drifted off to sleep.

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

It was in the deep stage of your sleep that the door downstairs opened up. A figure stood in the doorway with their sword raised high and scanned the room. Once they entered, six other figures followed behind.

“The whole place is… clean.” One of them spoke in a sleepy voice.

“I thank you for your astute observation, genius.” The one in front wielding the sword grumbled, his grumpy countenance exacerbated by his lack of patience. His free hand moved up to adjust the eyepatch on his face. The group moved as one. They surveyed the ground floor and found nothing except the almost extinguished fire and a cast iron pot strung over it.

One of the men reached forward and pulled the lid off, exposing the wonderful smell of stew. It simmered just barely. Before they could inspect it further, the man sneezed loudly and dropped the lid back on the pot. The clattering sound emanated around the room.

They all hunched slightly, ready to attack, but nothing came. The one who sneezed rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. They migrated to the wooden stairs and one by one made their way up the steps. Upon reaching the lofted area, a figure underneath the covers of one of the beds was spotted.

“What the fuck?” The grumpy one spoke in a hushed whisper. He separated himself from the group and approached the bed cautiously. He adjusted the sword in his grasp. Once he stood at the foot of the bed, he reached out with his sword and nudged the covers. The figure shifted.

Your state of unconsciousness began to wear off. The exhaustion you had felt earlier depleted. A yawn left your mouth as you moved to sit up in the bed. The covers fell to your waist and you stretched out your arms. After stretching your arms, your hands rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Blinking a couple of times to clear your bleary vision, you opened them to see a man at the foot of the bed with a sword pointing at you. Six men stood behind, all with varying faces of curiousness to skepticism.

There was only one reaction that seemed fitting, which was to scream. When you did, the six men standing at the top of the stairs screamed as well. The one with the sword, who had silver hair and an eyepatch over his left eye, groaned with frustration.

“Who are you?” He demanded.

Before you could answer, a man behind him spoke up, “Stop pointing your sword at a bloody woman!” The man had a bashful expression on his face.

“We don’t know her, Addam.” He responded to his friend and turned back to face you, “What are you doing in our house?”

“I… I thought it was abandoned.” You responded. Shock still froze your body. It seemed as though wherever you would run, men would always follow.

One of the men laughed at her words. He looked to be old, with silver hair and a beard. “Well, you’re not wrong about that assumption.” The man stepped forward and to the man with the eyepatch, grabbing the sword from his hands and placing it on the floor, “I apologize for scaring you. My name is Viserys, but most people call me Happy.”

“Happy?” You questioned.

“They are our cover names,” Happy answered, “My friend with the patch here is Aemond, but he goes by Grumpy.”

“Not willingly,” Aemond complained.

You mulled over their names in your head and thought on it for a moment. For some odd reason, the names felt familiar. They settled at the back of your mind, poking at your consciousness. A heartbeat passed before it struck you. The two names and the fact that there were seven of them in total.

“As… as in the seven bandits?” You gulped a bit of air after you spoke.

“You’re corre-” The man who spoke up sneezed abruptly, “Correct. I am Laenor, but my nickname is, well, Sneezy.”

“Let us just all reveal ourselves. Might as well just tell her all of our secrets while we are at it.” Aemond crossed his arms and stared her down. He looked at her as though she was a threat; some hidden weapon made to kill them.

“You suck the joy out of everything, Grumps.” Another man stepped forward and nodded to you, “I’m Aegon.”

“Dopey,” Aemond added on.

Aegon glared at him and crossed his arms, “At least I’m not a killjoy.” Aemond squared his shoulders and stood chest to chest with Aegon, domineering over his frame.

“Well maybe if you were smart for once-”

“That's enough.” Viserys spoke and placed himself between them, “Both of you can leave if you won’t get along. Stop crowding around the poor girl.” They backed off and joined the other men a few feet away.

“I’m sorry, truly. The place appeared empty and I thought that I could stay for a while. I will leave.” You push the covers from your body and maneuver off of the bed.

Viserys raised his hands in a peaceful motion, “Please, do not feel rushed. If I may ask, who are you and why are you here?”

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

Over the seven jewelled hills and beyond the seven falls, you happened upon a home of seven bandits a half year ago. Upon revealing your true identity, they had taken you in - much to the chagrin of Grumpy. However, you provided the skills learned as a maid to contribute to the house and were allowed to stay permanently. After a few weeks of asking, the men had begun to train you in the ways of the sword.

You were beyond skilled at it, having nicked yourself and a few of the others many times over. It was a learning curve you gradually got over, though you had a long way to go. Despite all your learning, you have yet to join them on their missions. Happy assured you that your talent with the sword was enough, but truly did not feel good to have a woman join them, for he was worried about your safety.

It was in this group of misfits that you found a family. While Grumpy was still not too keen on your presence, the others welcomed you relatively quickly. You got to know them all on a personal level and truly understand how fitting their cover names were. Aemond fit the Grumpy name. Viserys was always happy, Aegon consistently had a dopey look on his face, while Laenor sneezed near constantly. Addam had the nickname Bashful. He always blushed when you were around and got incredibly flustered when spoken to, but he was very loyal to his friends. Harrold, another one of the older men, was called Sleepy; something he proved nearly daily because if he was not training, he would be found anywhere around the cottage taking a nap. Corlys, or Doc, seemed to take up an almost leader-like role; even though they all worked together as a collective team.

Doc and Happy built you your own room in the cottage. There was a lot of open area on the downstairs level, so they picked a corner and set up walls for your privacy. That was a month after you agreed to stay permanently, and it felt like the final moment in truly becoming family.

It was the early hours of the morning. You were making breakfast with the help of Dopey. While he was not the brightest, he followed directions well and seemed just pleased to help. The two of you were working diligently. He went to set the table as the others started to wake. They made their way down like clockwork, each settling down in their designated seats.

When everyone sat and had a plate of food in front of them, Happy spoke, “We think it is time for you to join us on a mission.” His gaze was directed at you. You lowered your fork and tilted your head.

“Really? I can come?” You held back the excitement that brewed within.

“A short raid, you will stay back and only interfere if necessary. It is just so you can watch.” Happy reiterated, but you were already smiling widely.

“Thank you!” You shot out of your seat and walked to his, wrapping your arms around him in a hug and kissing his forehead. Happy turned a shade of bright red.

“Yes, well, don’t expect to do much,” Grumpy spoke up, “These rich folks always hire terrible guards. There won’t be a need for you to fight.” You walked back to your seat and rolled your eyes.

“Rich folk aren’t always bad.” You tried to defend.

“Like that prince you met?” Bashful asked. You groaned internally. A few months prior you let slip of your encounter with the prince and the kindness he showed, regardless of the rudeness you shoved his way. Since then, the men have teased you about him.

“Not that. I am rich… well… I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Once a rich girl, always a rich girl,” Grumpy mumbled.

The morning was spent preparing for some scout work on one of the main roads. The group would wait for a carriage to pass, one that was obviously belonging to a rich person, and they would rob them. Half of the earnings would be distributed to one of the nearby towns, while the other half would go to supporting themselves.

You now find yourself halfway up a tree that lined the main road through the forest. All of the other men were scattered among other trees, each within view of one another but not from any on the ground. Multiple people had passed, but all appeared to be townsfolk. It was after a few hours that a carriage began to pass. The wood had been carved delicately and embellished with gold. It was beyond a doubt that the person was rich. The only thing that threw her off was the amount of guards on horses surrounding it.

There had to be no less than twenty men and you were unsure how your friends would handle this. You had never seen them in action before. They all shared looks and communicated through bird calls. You were still learning the meanings of the calls, but one immediately got your attention. It was the call for an attack.

You watched as your friends descended from their hiding spots in the branches of the trees. They fell like lightning on the soldiers. Upon a closer look, you recognized the armour of the guards and almost gasped. They are royal guards.

A figure emerged from the carriage with a sword in hand and prepared to fight. You immediately recognized who it was. There was no way you could forget the face of Jacaerys Velaryon. His unruly dark curls fell to his sharp jawline. His stature revealed how strong his form was. The sword in his grasp caught the light.

You had to intervene. His soldiers were exceptionally trained and you could not leave your friends unaided. You swung from the rope that helped suspend you. Landing on the ground a few feet from Jace, you were intercepted by a guard. Your sword had only ever been used for practice combat, not a skilled soldier. You unsheathed it and blocked the guard's attack.

The two of you went back and forth. Each time you struck he blocked it, with the same happening to his strikes. He pulled you in and turned your back to his chest. Just as he brought his sword up to plunge into your neck, you elbowed his face and kicked his groin. Once the guard was on his knees and more on your level, you used the hilt of your sword and swung at his helmet, effectively knocking him out.

When his body fell to the ground, you looked up to see Jace standing there, having watched the whole thing.

“It’s you!” He spoke. The two of you stood still, each grasping your weapons and unsure how to proceed. You did not wait to respond and swung first. He stepped back and dodged.

“You’re that maid!” Jacaerys never swung at you but rather deflected your hits. The two of you were engaged in some kind of dance.

“I’m her,” You responded. Your strikes got harder and Jace pushed back a few times.

“I don’t want to fight you. Call off these men and we can go our separate ways.” Jace tried to reason.

You wanted to do that, but knew it was not possible with your friends, “No can do, my prince.”

The two of you were so focused on the fight, that you failed to notice one of the guards throw a dagger your way. It lodged itself into your shoulder and you cried out in pain, stumbling in your spot. It was then that Dopey called out your name. You watched as realization swept over Jace’s face. He quickly processed the words.

“Wait, Lady Stonehill? You’re supposed to be dead!” Jace recognized the name as the lady who was said to have passed a mere short months after her father years ago. The name was unique and he pierced it together with you also having been at Castle Stonehill.

Dopey came up on the back of a horse he stole from a guard. He leaned down to lift your injured self onto the horse. Your stomach lay on the saddle behind him. You and Jace had yet to stop looking at one another. There was an underlying force to look at him that would not yield. You wanted to stay, to make sure nothing would happen to him, but it seemed with your injury your group decided to retreat after seizing everything of value. The point was not to kill, that was something that had been emphasized in your training.

It was always reiterated that the jobs are a swift robbery of goods and nothing else. With that goal achieved, you repositioned yourself on the saddle and wrapped your arms around Dopeys waist. All of the others had clambered to other horses and swiftly fled down the road. The horse you were on followed. You looked back over your shoulder to see the other guards recovering and Jace staring you down. He did not look angry, but rather confused. You hoped he could forgive you.

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

“I humbly apologize for the raid while on your travel here, my prince.” The words of Lady Alicent rang out through the great hall of Castle Stonehill. “Those miscreants have targeted these parts for years, it is time my men put a stop to it.”

Jacaerys had arrived at Castle Stonehill for a momentary visit to discuss taxes for the Crown, but the interception on his travel seemed to be the only topic of focus. None of his men were gravely injured, but he had lost a few pouches of gold and jewels.

“Thank you for your kind words, Lady Alicent,” He paused for a moment, “May we speak in private?” Jace asked.

Alicent waved off her guards and the hall cleared, “What is it you wish to speak about, my prince?”

“I mean no offence, but there seems to be no other way to inform you of this. Lady Alicent, I believe your stepdaughter is alive.” Jace informed. Alicent’s face shifted from curiosity to something bordering on indignation and distaste. She blinked rapidly.

“What, um, what makes you say such a thing?” Alicent’s hands placed themselves on her stomach in an attempt to keep herself calm. Jace interpreted her actions as reminiscing of grief.

“The visit I made with my mother months ago, well I ran into this girl who I thought was a maid. When the raiders attacked my travel company, she was there as well. One of them called out her name and well, I believe it is your stepdaughter. She matches the description as well. Maybe-”

“I am sorry, Prince Jacaerys, but I cannot hear anymore. My stepdaughter is dead, that is final.” Alicent stood firm on her words.

Jace nods, “Yes, I understand. I am sorry for the distress I have caused.” He nodded to Alicent before making a hasty exit from the great hall. He kept thinking back to his encounter with the woman. He finally, after months of thinking about her after their encounter in the garden, had a name to match her face.

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

You shifted uncomfortably to try and grab a broom propped in the living space. The bandages on your shoulder moved and you hissed in pain at the sharp feeling hitting you. In the days following your injury in the raid, none of the men had let you lift a single finger. While months ago that would have been a horrible thing for the chores, you had whipped them into shape and they were able to clean properly. However, you still wished to contribute to the house.

The group marched down the stairs with weapons in their arms. They were going on another raid, as the last few days they opted out so they could watch over you. You stood by the door and opened it for them. One by one, you hugged them goodbye on their way out, giving each a kiss on the cheek for all the help they had given you. The last one, Grumpy, stood in front of you with his arms crossed.

“You don’t have to worry, I won’t hug you.” You joked.

Grumpy tilted his head to the side and hummed, “What I said about rich women that day… you’re one of us, not them.” It was the closest thing to an apology you would ever get from him, to be sure. Instead of acknowledging his apology, which would surely elicit a huff of annoyance from him, you chose another option.

You move forward and wrap him in a gentle hug. His body went stiff, unfamiliar with such kindness. One of his hands went up to put your shoulder awkwardly. After a moment he huffed as a signal to let go. You backed off and flashed him a smile.

“You secretly care for me, I know it.”

He moved out the door and began to walk away, “Whatever makes you feel better.”

You closed the door and looked back at the empty cottage. Making your way to the kitchen area, you decide that you should get started on making food for them when they get back. With your injury, it was bound to take longer than usual, so the sooner the better.

Hours passed of you prepping pies with one arm. The other would sting in pain each time you tried to use it, so it would be best to get used to your current predicament in hopes it would speed up the healing process. While rolling out the dough, a knock sounded on your door. You stopped your movements and backed from the table. When you walked to the door, you reached for a long knife placed beside it.

You opened the door while clutching the weapon behind your back. A man stood in a hooded cape. He carried a cane in one hand and a basket in the other. His leg appeared to be in some bandage, but something about it did not look like a temporary injury.

“Forgive me, sweet girl, but I seem to have lost my way.” The man smiled, “My name is Larys. Could you help me find the right path to the local market?”

“Oh, I can help you with that,” You notice the man looked bleary and most likely dehydrated, “Come inside and rest for a while, I can get you something to drink.” You ushered him into the cottage and to a seat while stealthily placing the weapon back in its hidden place. Once you served him a cup of water he thanked you immensely for the help.

“No need to thank me, sir. Kindness always goes a long way.” You sat across from him at the table.

“I have nothing to repay you.” The man muttered.

“Oh, you don’t have to.” You spoke.

He lifted the lid of his basket that was on the table, “Here, at least take one of these apples. I grow them back home.” He reached in and pulled out an apple. It was the most deep shade of red and covered in a shiny gleam. His hand held it out to you and you decided to pick it up. Holding it in your hand you inspected it.

“Well, I was starting to get hungry. Thank you, sir.” You took a bite of the apple and relished the taste. Some juice dribbled down your chin and you wiped it away. “Oh, you’re low on water. I’ll get you some more.”

Just as you get out of your seat, your body swayed oddly. Tingles made their way across your limbs and the edges of your vision dimmed. You stepped forward but stopped when your sight blacked out for a moment. It felt like you were losing control of your body. A sick feeling developed in your stomach. The apple fell from your hand. The sound it made when hitting the floor was muffled as if you were underwater. Your knees buckled under your weight and you felt yourself falling to the floor. Before you even made it there, your vision went black.

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

The band of men strolled merrily down the path to their home. It had been a successful day and they had just given half their share to one of the nearby villages. They joked with one another. Sneezy held Dopey in a headlock and began to mess up his hair, much to Dopey’s protest and Grumpy’s amused smile.

Doc went to open the door and noticed it was unlocked and slightly ajar. He raised his hand to signal the men to be quiet. They all hushed up and saw what Doc spotted. All of them pulled out their weapons. When Doc opened the door, they funnelled in. The cottage appeared empty. Grumpy took charge and moved in further, but dropped his sword in shock upon reaching the other side of the dining table.

The other men rushed to him and had similar reactions. Your body was on the floor, collapsed and unresponsive. Doc rushed forward and flipped you onto your back. He placed his hands below your nose but felt no air. He fell back from his crouched position as grief struck him.

“She… she’s not breathing.” His voice came out in a helpless whisper. While the words were light, their meaning felt like iron chains on the men. They all stood around her body, both shocked and driven to hopelessness. Grumpy moved first, his eye having caught something peculiar. He reached down under the table and came back with an apple in his hand. A single bite had been taken out of it.

After a moment, Grumpy spoke, “It was Alicent.”

“We don’t know that for sure-” Doc began but had been caught off.

“Seven hells, even I know it was her doing,” Dopey chimed in.

Grumpy placed the apple down and marched upstairs. They followed him to see him rummaging through one of their large chests. Second after second he pulled out varying types of weapons and placed them methodically on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Happy questioned.

At first, he did not respond, not until everything from the chest laid out on display, “We are going to Castle Stonehenge and we are killing her for this.”

“Grumpy, we don’t kill.” Bashful interjected. Some of them shifted in their stances.

“So Alicent gets away with it?” Grumpy raised his voice, “We stick up for our own, and she was one of us.”

Dopey crouched down and picked up a longsword, “I’m with you.”

Grumpy looked at all the others with the hope they would join in. One by one they assembled their own collection of weapons. She may be dead, but there was no way they would let her memory die with her. Now, more than ever, they would fight stronger than they have in the past. Only one mission was left in mind, to avenge her death and spread her story - so that she would never be forgotten.

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

It started as a warmth building in your stomach. It spread throughout your body further, and the more it did the more that heat increased. It clawed its way through your veins, burning the capillaries and tearing through your muscles to burn the bone beneath. Your lungs worked in opposition, for every breath you took seemed to only increase that cursed fever that took hold. It was in your ceaseless torture that dreams spread forth; wicked and wild.

Taunts of your lost childhood flickered on the backs of your eyelids. What-could-have-been’s propositioned like a devil's deal of a promised future, staked on the trade of your soul in exchange. Given the chance, you may have been persuaded to pray for such a deal. Your father's voice rang through your mind, but it was so faint and muffled you could not make out the words. Truthfully, to the regret and pain of every fibre of your being, you had forgotten his face and voice over time; even more so your mother.

It was cruel, beyond any punishment that could have been warranted for transgressions in your past lives. Surely, the gods could be cruel, but to be so minacious in their plan for you bordered them on the side of the cursed souls in the seven hells. Perspiration covered your body as it fought off the fever. No amount of ice in the world could aid your affliction. Your mind fought for control, or really for any semblance of consciousness beyond that of the haze plaguing your mind.

You could feel the thrashing of your body and the hands holding you down. They felt cold in comparison to the heat of your skin and you welcomed it. A voice, as foggy as the meadow outside your cottage and refreshing as the dew on grass in the morning, spoke through your haze. It was familiar, but you could not place its origins.

“Come back to us, my lady.”

The depths of the boiling ocean you were swimming in gave rise to creatures below. Faces of evil men in your past voyaged through those depths, like sharks surrounding prey. However, the most fear you felt was in the memories of your stepmother, Alicent. Her cruel sneer and wicked tongue that always seemed to be ready to fire a quip of the most vile of insults coated in a thin veil of sugar; sweetness afflicted with poison, her greatest weapon.

Time was an illusion. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, and weeks made no sense in your haze. For all you knew years could have passed suspended in this torture. It would not surprise you. But just as quickly as hopelessness seated itself in your soul, the heat was doused in water and you felt yourself clear again. Your muscles ached and your head pounded, but the relief of no longer being under such a curse took priority.

Your eyes blinked open and struggled to see through your blurry vision. When you managed to get a hold of your sight, the roof of a canopy bed was all you could see. The engraved wood was familiar. It took many minutes to get up, but once you were sat in the plush bed you recognized where you were.

Your childhood bedchamber appeared to have gone through no change at all since your father's death. You could not even remember the last time you were in this room, having been cast out and forbidden to go in. Perhaps you were dead and this was your afterlife. You had no idea if it was heaven or hell. The happiness of being in this room was undercut by the pain you felt for what could have been.

It was then that your memories came like an opened floodgate. The man you helped and the sudden feeling of blacking out. The apple… it had to have been the apple. You understood that it must be a plot construed by Alicent. Your placement in the room was not a gift, but one last taunt she made before killing you for good. You’d be damned if you went out without a fight now that you’ve learned well enough from your found family.

You scrambled out of bed and searched around the room, looking for anything that could be of service. In a drawer in a random dresser, you found a sewing collection with some shears. This will have to do.

You positioned yourself on the side of the door that would be covered when open and waited with bated breath. Shuffled footsteps sounded from outside and you prepared to strike. The door creaked open and the person walked in. You surged forward with your hand preparing to plunge the knife into them, but a hand caught your wrist with the shears.

“It would be regrettable to stab me, for killing the crown prince is the most heinous of crimes. I would hate for you to meet such a sudden end on your twice emergence from the dead.” The voice of Jacaerys Velaryon shook you from your adrenaline-filled mind. You dropped the shears.

“Prince Jacaerys?” He released your wrist from his grip and took a step back to give you space.

“It’s a relief to see you awake, my lady,” Jace spoke.

You swayed in your spot, the fear your body ran off of ebbed away, “What…” You stumbled forward and Jace moved quickly to catch you. One of his hands wrapped around your waist while the other supported your back.

“You should still be abed,” He uttered. Jace guided you back to the bed and helped you sit down. Your back rested against the headboard. The prince grabbed a nearby chair and moved it to the side of the bed you sat on and settled on it.

“I am sure you have… many questions.”

You huffed, “That may be the biggest understatement of the century.”

“You got me there,” Jace smiled gently, “Your, uh, friends stationed themselves outside the room and wouldn’t leave while you rested. There would never be more than two gone at a time. They’re staying in the room across from yours, I can wake them up so they can speak with you.”

He made a move to get out of his chair, but you interrupted, “Wait, no. Let them rest. How long have I been out?”

Jace hesitated before answering, “Two weeks.” You gaped at the answer, but he continued, “Honestly, no one was sure you would wake.”

You looked down at the blanket strew across your lap and traced your fingers over the delicately sewn design of vines. Two weeks of missed time, suspended in that state of burning pain. You blinked back the tears that pooled in your eyes and cleared your throat.

“Forgive me for my language, my prince, but what in the Seven Hell’s happened?”

Jace rested his hands on his thighs and leaned back, conveying his openness, “To be honest, my lady, I am not entirely sure. It was a shock. I was having dinner with Alicent when your… friends descended. I still have no clue how they got past both the castle and my own guards. They were a fury to be sure. Hurling such accusations at Alicent.”

You wanted to speak, but violent coughing raked through your throat and had you seize for a moment. Jace got out of his seat and reached for a cup that was placed on the bedside table. He poured the water into the glass and held it out for you. When you went to reach for the cup, Jace grabbed your hand and moved it back down to the covers. He brought it to your lips and tilted it so you could drink. Once you had a sip, he pulled back and waited if you wished for more. You shook your head, muttering a thank you, and he put it back on the table before settling in the chair again.

Jace continued, “They claimed Alicent faked your death to take your inheritance. That you had been ultimately killed by her with poison. I must admit, I did not believe them at first. But, a knight, Ser Erryk corroborated their story. Only then did Alicent fumble under the pressure, her story of innocence did not match up and began to crumble under scrutiny.”

You were in a state of shock. Never, in any dream or wish, could you have ever thought of Alicent being seen as the true person she was. That her crimes would be revealed.

“I had her arrested.” Jace’s words had rung in your head. The picture of Alicent in a cell came to mind, and the relief in that image could not be measured. Perhaps, finally, you may be out of reach from her conniving talons.

“I… How am I still alive?” You questioned.

Jace cleared his throat, “Well, I sharply questioned her for information regarding the poison. The castle healer knew of an antidote, but we were unsure if it would work, given how long it took to get to you. I am glad it did.” The corners of his lips turned up slightly.

“I need to see her.” You spoke.

“Absolutely not, I cannot allow that, my lady.” Jace shook his head.

“I have a right to see her. I am the lady of this castle, am I not?” You retorted. Your eyebrow rose in challenge and Jace nodded.

“You could barely stand for a few moments. When you are strong enough, I will personally take you to her. And yes, you are the lady of this castle so for you and your people, you must rest.” He emphasized the final three words, pausing after each.

The finality in his tone had you lean backwards and close your eyes. The pounding in your head had yet to cease, but it had eased. You pinched the bridge of your nose and began to breathe in and out.

“I sent word to my mother. She is coming to oversee Lady Alicent’s trial.” Jace lowered his voice, “Ser Erryk has physical evidence of a box meant for your heart. He was sent to carve it out of you… Um, another man was found, the one who gave you that apple. He is locked up and will be put on trial with Alicent.”

That day when Ser Erryk helped you felt like years ago. You were a different person then. Naive enough to believe Alicent would do something kind for you for once. While it had been the lowest point of your life, without it you would not be who you are now. A changed woman, with a true family and purpose.

“I wish to see my family now.” You whispered. Despite the conversation sucking all your strength, you wanted to see your friends. Jace stood up and nodded. He did not say anything further, in case he would stress you more than you were at that moment. His hand gripped the door handle and he opened it. Jace turned back around to you and looked as though he wanted to say something but refrained. His figure went through the door and closed it, leaving you to stew in the overwhelming amount of information you were fed.

⋅───⊱༺ 🍎༻⊰───⋅

The following week waiting for the arrival of Queen Rhaenyra was spent recovering. The shoulder wound you had sustained in the raid against Jace and his men had almost healed. Your body had fought off the last of the poison days ago, but everyone around you still treated you like glass. It had begun to grind down on your nerves.

Visiting Alicent had been a decision you turned against. There was nothing you wished to say to her and nothing she could ever say to you that would be worth your time. It would only ever throw you into more distress. Your new family settled into castle life surprisingly well, a fact you often teased them about. However, they still showed some form of distrust towards Jacaerys.

The prince had become a close friend in the short time spent together. He would visit you often in your chambers as you recovered. When you were cleared to walk, he would escort you around the caste. In his words, he accompanied you in the event that you collapsed, but you knew he did not have to as there were plenty of guards that could have done the job.

Despite the closeness between you two, some of your friends - mainly Grumpy - were still put off by him. Grumpy had approached you at one point to question Jace’s intentions, a conversation that made your cheeks flush and heart race. After clarifying that Jace was just being a gentleman, Grumpy acquiesced his hostility to the prince but still watched him with a piercing gaze when he went near you.

It was not just Grumpy that had become more protective over you. All of the men had heightened awareness of every little thing that happened in Castle Stonehill. There was rarely a moment when no less than two were by your side. They went so far as to have you dismiss your night guards and take shifts outside your door. When meals were made for you, Doc and Happy would watch over the cooks in the kitchen.

It was an unspoken fear they had; of the possibility of Alicent getting someone to come for you. You knew that so long as she was alive in a cell they would continue to act like this. Jace often joked about you having your own mini army, or legion of defenders that safeguarded your every waking moment. You would laugh if it was amusing. At first, their actions were endearing, but now they felt more stifling as of late.

When Queen Rhaenyra arrived, you were surprised by the soft warmth she brought to whatever room she occupied. She was strong-willed and an excellent conversationalist. Her kindness was refreshing, and you could see the resemblance in personality between her and Jace. Though, you were able to note he must carry more of King Harwin’s looks than his mother. A small piece of yourself was jealous whenever you would watch Jace and Rhaenyra spend time together. They were close, and you yearned for what kind of relationship you could have had with your mother.

A part of you wondered, had Alicent not been as vain, if you and her could have been close.

You were in your chemise and struggled to change the bandages on your shoulder. Regret for having dismissed the doctor washed over you. You were standing in your room, with your head tilted to look at the stitched wound. The door abruptly opened. You looked up to see Jace had walked in. Upon seeing your state of near undress, he let out a surprised yelp and turned his back to you. The sound of his startled voice made you laugh.

“I am so sorry, my lady. I do not know what I was thinking to not knock like that- oh, my mother will be furious. Again, I express my deepest condolences. This-” Jace began to frantically apologise.

You began to laugh harder, finding this situation amusing.. Had it happened to you months ago, you would have been mortified. Now, it does not bother you. Especially since it was him who happened to walk in.

“It is alright, Jacaerys. I know you meant nothing nefarious.” The two of you had common ground. When away from the listening ears of court, you could ignore propriety in referring to one another by your titles. It pleased a part of you to hear him address you by name rather than Lady Stonehill.

He still kept his back to you, “I will, um, come back later.”

“Could you…” You debated if you should ask, given that it was not entirely appropriate, “Could you help me?” Jace turned around to face you, but kept his gaze in line with your face. He coughed to clear his throat. A vibrant red flush spread from his cheeks to his neck.

“Yeah, uh, of course.” He moved forward hesitantly. The table next to you had a silver tray with some ointment and wraps. He cleaned off his hands in the bowl of water beside it and took some of the ointment. Standing next to you, the height difference was apparent. His chin when looking down only reached the top of your head. Jace’s breath was calm as he applied the ointment to the stitched area on your shoulder.

You had cursed yourself inwardly for asking him to do this. Your brain only seemed to focus on his calloused fingertips gently applying the cool ointment. Your mind ran wild and you closed your eyes in an attempt to calm your mind. He methodically wrapped up your shoulder. When he finished, his hands lingered on the skin around the wrap.

You coughed subtly to get his attention. Jace blinked and backed away, moving his gaze to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Thank you, Jace.” You were unaware of the effect it had on him to use his nickname rather than his full name. You moved behind a room divider for some privacy and began to put on the other layers of your clothing.

“Are you… okay? With everything going on.” Jace spoked to you from the other side of the wood divider. Today was the day of Alient’s execution. You had ruminated on it for countless hours during the last few days.

“I thought that maybe I would feel bad about her death… I truly feel nothing but relief. I guess Sir Erryk never needed to cut out my heart, there seems to not be one.” You shuffled your dress over your head and adjusted the ties on your back, having perfected the routine by having to do it yourself for many years.

“You have every right to feel that way about her execution. Everything she has done to you… you have a heart, I hope you know that.” Jace reassured. You walked out from behind the divider to look straight at him.

“And you’ve suddenly become an expert in matters of the heart?” You raised a brow with challenge as you teased him. However, Jace did not seem as though he was joking.

His gaze held an intensity you could not decipher, “Yes, recently so.”

You ceased your jesting face and came to understand the gravity of his words. It was not a surprise, for this was something the two of you had been blatantly ignoring as of late. The two of you failed to evade one another. It was an invisible force that pulled you together. Jace took one step forward and there was only a few inches from you.

“Jace, I…” You sucked in a breath.

“You don’t have to say anything, I will not make you feel forced to. Nor do I wish for you to feel compelled to reciprocate what I feel. But, I know you have noticed it. I only ask for consideration.” Jace’s eyes held nothing but sincerity. He looked down at you and the closeness felt more intimate than anything you have experienced in your life.

“I feel insane even saying it,” Jace clarified, “It has happened so quickly, feeling this kind of love, but I would not have it any other way.”

You were finally able to respond, “I will be honest with you. I don’t know if I love you, Jace, I hardly know you. We have spent a lot of time together and I know there is something there, something I do wish to pursue. Why don’t we start by continuing to get to know one another?”

Jace nodded desperately at your words as if he clung to every syllable. You reached out to rest your hands on his chest because of how close he was. When you did not push him away, Jace took that as a positive sign and moved his arms to wrap loosely around you with his hands resting on your back. He moved his face closer but stopped just short of yours. He waited for a sign of approval from you. When you gestured with your head in approval, Jace leaned forward and connected your lips.

In that moment, everything around you ceased to be a reality. It was a promise of protection and devotion given by Jace. His lips were warm and soft, a reflection of his personality. His nose pressed into your cheek. The two of you moved in sync with one another. Normally, you are hyper-aware of all of your senses, but with him, they all seemed to fade away. All you could focus on was him; his arms around you, his lips on yours, and the feeling of desire coursing through you.

Jace pulled back enough to rest his forehead on yours. Both of you inhaled deeply to catch your breath. Upon opening your eyes, you saw that Jace was already staring at you. He held a dazzling smirk on his face.

“I hope I do not disappoint you.” He spoke.

You decided to tease him a little, “I don’t think it could be as disappointing as that kiss you gave me.”

Jace feigned a look of hurt, but it was tinged with a smile. “Oh, so that is how this will be?”

“Of course, my prince. I will always have the upper hand.” You giggled. Jace moved his hands from your back to wrap around your waist and pulled you flush against him. The feelings that action elicited from you were all too new and addicting. The closeness of your bodies set your veins alight. This was something you would have no shame in getting used to.

“Well then, my lady, I shall rise to the occasion.” Jace leaned back in to kiss you.

_____________

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ note: that was part 1 of Between the Pages! i am super excited to start off this series, as I had developed plans for this back in 2022. there were entire storyboards planned, but i never got to writing them. thank you for all the support <3

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𖥔 ݁ ˖ taglist: @uniquecutie-puffs @dracaryxzs @beebeechaos @libdarkheart @whodis? @void21

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navia3000 · 4 months

Text

a l l m y g h o s t s

Includes : Aaron Hotchner

Genre : Angst

Warnings : Crying, sadness, mentions of bombs and terrorists, typical Criminal Minds topics, Morgan’s kind of a dick, curse words

Based on : All My Ghosts by Lizzy McAlpine

Part one Part three

A/N : This is a part two to So Long, London. I’m trying something different with my writing style, and I don’t really know how I feel about this fic overall, so, let me know your thoughts. And, yes, there will be a part three.

The headquarters of the International Operation Division of the FBI was alive with the chatter of agents and the ringing of phones. The IOD had been investigating a major threat against the United States from a major terrorist group in Iraq. There had been two bombings connected to this group, and there were more to be expected. The case is so dire, the IOD decided to call in the Behavioral Analysis Unit to aid in catching the attackers, a fact Y/N wasn’t thrilled about.

It had been two years since Y/N had left the BAU. She hadn’t told anyone of her transfer, leaving without saying a word to the team. She had gone as far as ignoring their calls and texts, and, as time passed, she eventually stopped receiving them. It had pained her to leave her friends, no, her family in that way, but she couldn’t stand having to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t. She couldn’t be around the source of her heartbreak any longer, or she would explode. So, she took matters into her own hands.

Y/N knew her and the BAU’s paths would eventually cross again, she just hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon.

As she walked through the bullpen, she felt her heart racing. She wasn’t nervous about seeing Hotch, well, she was, but, she was more nervous about seeing her old friends. She knew they would be angry at her for the way she up and left. She would’ve been too if it was someone else on the team who did what she had.

She finally reached the doors that would lead her to the moment she most dreaded; the Behavior Analysis team would be sitting there, going over details of their profile. And, since she used to be a part of said team, her boss thought it best for her to be the one assisting them.

As she walked through the doors into the room the team had set up, she heard them grow quiet. They stared at her in disbelief, each one of them, and she couldn’t help but take each one in. Morgan looked stronger than when she had last seen him, Emily looked even more beautiful, JJ had grown her hair out, Penelope had dyed her hair cherry red, Rossi had more gray hairs than before, Spencer got rid of his glasses, and Hotch, well, Hotch looked exactly as she remembered him. Tall, handsome, and utterly exhausted. She didn’t fail to notice the missing ring on his left hand.

“Hi,” she spoke after minutes of silence. When she received no answer, she continued, “I was sent by my boss to assist you with building the profile on these terrorists.” She could feel her heart racing as the minutes wore on, and the disbelief in their eyes turned into confusion and anger. “I know we haven’t spoke in a while, but-”

Morgan was quick with his anger in cutting her off, “and who’s fault is that?”

Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Please, Morgan. I hate how I left things with you guys, but, right now, my priority is this case. So, if you could all put your feelings about me aside for the sake of our jobs, that would be great.” Morgan let out a scoff at her words, rolling his eyes and turning back to the whiteboard at the end of the room.

She made eye contact with Hotch, her eyes becoming watery at Morgan’s reaction to her presence. He didn’t seem all too different in his sentiment towards her, making her feel even worse.

“Alright, here’s what we have so far,” Hotch said. It was going to be a long night.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

As the days wore on, the tension between her and the rest of the team grew. They kept things professional, and Penelope and Emily were nicer than the rest in accepting her back, but it was still a challenge. She understood why they felt how they felt, but, still, it broke her heart. Even worse, she tried being friendly with Hotch but he wouldn’t even acknowledge her outside of discussing the profile.

It was late at night, most of the team had gone back to their hotels, leaving Hotch and Y/N working by themselves. Her eyes kept wandering to him, her thoughts consumed by having him so close to her again. Yet, he continued to ignore her.

“How’s Jack?” She asked, attempting to make conversation whilst they went over old case files.

“He’s fine.”

“How’s the rest of the team? I’ve missed them a lot. And you, of course. But-”

“They’re doing alright.” The finality in his tone was making her hopes fall like the petals of a rose fall over time.

“That’s good. What about Haley? How’s she doing?”

“Haley’s dead. She was killed by an unsub.” At that, her head snapped up.

“Oh my God, Hotch, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

He still didn’t look up at her from the papers scattered on the table. “How could you have? You left.”

His words cut deep. Her eyes grew teary for what felt like the fifth time that day. “Hotch, I had to.”

At that, he finally looked up at her. His eyes were hard as stone as he said, “no, you didn’t. And even if you felt that way, you could have told us. I had to explain to everyone else that you left and weren’t coming back, Y/N. You were a part of this family and wouldn’t even answer our texts and calls.” No, his words didn’t just cut deep, they burned. Upon seeing her tears fall, he seemingly decided that was a conversation not worth having. “Let’s just focus on the case.” But, like that night in the restaurant, she stood up and left him at the table.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The next day was no different. Spencer and Morgan refused to talk to her, Hotch was cold as ice when addressing her, JJ was hesitant anytime she had to speak with her, and Emily and Penelope were trying their best to dissipate some of the tension in the room.

It all seemed to boil over when she suggested that her and Morgan go over to the last bombing site and see what they could find.

“No,” he said.

The room was so quiet, you could hear a hairpin drop. “What?” she asked, mostly because she couldn’t believe that he shut her down like that.

“No,” he repeated. At that point, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, Morgan, I get you’re upset with me. But we’re here to do our jobs. And, you have zero right to treat me like I don’t matter just because you’re upset.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N. You left us! You were a crucial part of this team and you left us. Without even an explanation. Nothing! So, don’t come in here expecting everything to be the same as it was because it’s not.”

“I had to leave!” She exclaimed. “I couldn’t take being around you guys after everything that happened!” Tears were streaming down her face. Her throat burned from the lump in it. Her heart sank with the weight of Morgan’s hatred for her.

“Nothing happened, Y/N!” He yelled as he stepped closer to her. “You just up and left!”

“Damn it, Morgan, I was in love! What was I supposed to do?” That grabbed the attention of the others. “You might not have known it, but… but, me and Hotch had just broken up, and I couldn’t be around him anymore. I just couldn’t.” Her sobs racked her body as she finally admitted what she couldn’t those two years ago. Morgan seemed to finally understand. And Hotch? Hotch just stood there, staring at her with the usual expression which occupies his face.

She hated it. She hated the pitiful stares from the team. She hated the way she cracked under the pressure. She hated the way she cried in front of them. But, most of all, she hated how all those feelings she had buried deep down in a dungeon of sadness had broken out and swam up to the surface.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

After everything blew over, Y/N decided enough is enough. She was done trying to work with the BAU, so, she went to investigate some tips on her own.

Her interest was piqued at an anonymous tip that claimed that the terrorist group’s leader was living in a house a few blocks over. She knew she shouldn’t go over there alone, but she it wasn’t like she could ask the team to go with her, they practically hated her for everything that went down.

The house was dark when she arrived. She knocked on the front door multiple times, and, after no answer, she found it to be unlocked. Drawing her gun, she went in. It was clear. As she suspected, it was a dummy tip. She let out a frustrated sigh as she stepped out of the house. They were no closer to catching the bombers than they were when they started. Walking down the front porch steps, she heard a loud boom, and everything went black.

#aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #criminal minds masterlist #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #agent hotchner

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linkspooky · 4 months

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Art credit: @/charscounterattack reposted with permission.

INVINCIBLE VS. MY HERO ACADEMIA: WHEN HEROES KILL

Whether or not heroes should kill people is a hotly debated topic in comics.

There are people who think heroes should never kill, and others who think heroes should kill more. One of the most famous comic book storylines "Under the Red Hood" has Red Hood / Jason Todd debate whether or not it was ethical for Bruce to keep letting the joker live even after the Joker killed Jaso, especially after the Joker killed Jason. If killing the Joker earlier to prevent all future deaths would have been justified. There are like a hundred DC Aus that are like "What if Batman and Superman just started killing people?"

In order to explore this question I'm going to explore two situations in different comics, Invincible and My Hero Academia when the hero, a very idealistic young hero kills someone for the first time.

LET HORI COOK

Storytelling, especially for serialized storytelling which comes out week by week instead of all at once works on the premise of drawing people in by promising that certain future developments and plot points are going to happen. Stories are all about creating expectations, building them, and then paying them off.

Here's an example: The Dabi is a Todoroki theory has existed pretty much since the training camp arc. Horikoshi wasn't in your face about the hints about Toya, but there was just enough hints to make the theory seem more and more plausible. Toya having the same fire quirk as Shoto / Endeavor. Toya mentioning both of them by name. Shoto's two other siblings getting revealed but not Toya. Toya saying that Hawks should have paid attention to him most of all. All of these little pieces came together until Toya finally revealed his identity on live TV in front of both Shoto and Endeavor.

This worked because not only did it give the audience just enough clues that they felt smart for figuring it out, and get invested in the idea of Toya as a Todoroki, it also was well-paced so it didn't seem like Horikoshi forgot about it unlike the traitor plot which went hundreds of chapters without being mentioned. If Toya was revealed to be a Todoroki at the training camp arc with no buildup, it wouldn't be as effective bcause we didn't have years of waiting and theorizing. If Todoroki was revealed to be some guy named Steve after all the hints, it also wouldn't be an effective reveal because there were hints dropped for Toya Todoroki, but there were no Steve hints so it'd feel like the author lied to us.

Themes are like this too. I tend to explain story themes by oversimplifying it as "Question, and answer." The story asks a question, it provides us an answer, and we can come up with our own answer as well. However, there's a middle part I'm skipping out on which is deliberation. Before you can come up with an answer, you obviously need to deliberate it, either by presenting arguments for or against, hearing outside opinions or just thinking things through.

In other words, you need to "Let things cook."

If Toya calling Shoto by his full name at the Training Camp Arc is when we're first asked "Is Toya a Todoroki?" or when the theories first started, then the long middle period between Training Camp Arc and the First War Arc is the deliberation. This is when the story not only added more hints to the idea that Toya was a Todoroki, but also set up why that reveal mattered. Endeavor wanted to atone for his past sins, but one of his victims was no longer alive. Endeavor begins to move on anyway and think he's finally made himself a good hero, but now Toya appears to flip up the reverse Uno Card.

So let's follow this basic formula, for how ideas get developed in My Hero Academia and just any good story.

Question / Introduction

Deliberation

Answer / Conclusion

My Hero Academia and Invincible explore similar themes in regards to heroism, generational trauma and how to be better than the previous generation in both Mark and Deku. I'm going to streamline their arcs down to one basic question for the sake of time. For both the question is:

Can I be a better hero than my Dad?

Deku and Mark might be two characters who cannot possibly seem to be more different, but you can actually list off a lot of similarities between them right away. Deku and Mark are both people who in a world oversaturated with superheroes spent most of their childhoods with no superpowers at all. Also, they were genetically supposed to inherit a quirk / viltrumite powers, but Deku was born quirkless, and Mark was an extremely late bloomer. They are also people who while being powerless civilians for most of their lives worship heroes. Deku collects so much All Might Merch he even stole some from Nighteye after he died, Mark attends comic conventions even after he becomes a superhero.

They also grew up worshipping one hero in particular who was essentially earth's strongest hero, for Mark it was his dad Omni-Man, for Deku it was All Might. They also both get the opportunity to train directly under their favorite hero immediately after they get their powers. At first this makes it seem like they've been given everything they've ever wanted. All Mark has ever wanted was to be a hero like his dad and make his father proud. Not only did Deku just want one person to tell him he could be a hero too even without a quirk, but his very idea of heroism is built around seeing All Might always save people with a smile.

However, both of them suddenly hit complication just when it seems like they've been given everything they've ever wanted. They are both confronted with the fact that their heroes are not who they expected them to be. They are overly idealistic heroes who have been dreaming of being heroes since childhood only to be hit with a much greyer reality. To the point where there innocence becomes a flaw in and of itself. The way they've been coddled and protected all of their lives leaves them completely unaware and unable to spot the grey areas in the world, or the people around them.

For Deku the moral greys exist in the villains around them. In MHA Society, villains are basically just bad guys in suits for the heroes to punch on television. They're seen as a faceless enemy, and there's very little in way of rehabilitation for villains once they're captured. Deku lived in a very black and white world before this point, and he's suddenly presented with the idea that his villains could be morally grey.

Deku's image of All Might is a hero who saves everyone with a smile, so he could never imagine that there are people who All Might has failed to save. He's never stopped to consider where villains came from, or if any of them might have legitimate reasons for their grievances.

This becomes a pretty central theme in MHA. It's first brought up here when Shigaraki talks about All Might acting as if there's no one he can't save. Twice brings it up again in his first backstory chapter, that the heroes only save the virtuous ones.

This is further enforced in the same overhaul arc with members who are loyal to Overhaul because they are society's trash who would have been thrown out otherwise. There is a group of people fiercley loyal to Overhaul who is a terrible boss, because he is the only person who would accept them.

edits belong to @stillness-in-green from bring it all back a tone poem on returning to staus quo located here on ao3.

In the War Arc this long running theme basically reaches a climax with the Hawks and Twice confrontation, where Hawks decides to try to offer Jin a chance to restart because he's deemed him "good" but he won't extend the same helping hand to the league who Hawks has determined as "bad." He then asks Jin to betray his friends in order to be saved, something that Jin rightfully calls out.

That Hawks only wants to save Jin because he's one of the good ones, and he's written off the rest of the league and left them for dead. Hawks choosing to divide between good and bad victims ad only save the one he personally thought was worthy of redemption, makes it impossible for him to save Twice who would never under any circumstances give up on the rest of the league.

Twice's death is a tragedy, but it also presents us a clear example of the failures of the previous generation. Even a hero who sincerely sympathized with a villain and wanted to help them start over wasn't able to help them because of this attitude of selectively picking and choosing who to save. If the heroes only save the innocent the I guess the lives of the guilty are worth less.

This is the questio Toga poses to Ochako, if the heroes killed Twice then are you going to kill me in order to stop me. This is the central subject of Shigaraki's speech to the heroes. That heroes and villains will never uderstand each other, because the entire hero system perpetuates itself on ignoring the needs of societal outcasts and rejects in form of the "innocent people" and those outcasts who aren't having their needs met eventually turn into villains who get systematically put down by heroes. Heroes and villains are incapable of understanding each other and breaking the cycle, because the entire system isn't built on helping people, but merely maintaining the idea that heroes are perfect, faultless saviors so normal people will feel secure, while the people the heroes have failed get swept under the rug so society can keep "functioning."

"You heroes hurt your own families just to help strangers. You heroes pretend to be society's guardians. For generations, you pretended not to see those you couldn't protect. That means your system's all rotten from the inside with maggots crawling out. It all builds up, little by little, over time. You've got the common trash, all too dependent on being protected, and the brave guardians who created the trash that needed coddling. It's a corrupt, vicious, cycle. Everythig I've witnessed, the whole system you've built has always rejected me. Now I'm ready to reject it. That's why I destroy. That's why I took power for myself. Simple enough, Yeah? I don't care if you don't understand. That's what makes us heroes and villains."

So if the starting question is: Can I be a better hero than my dad?

Then everything I've detailed above is deliberation. Here we have, ever since the training camp arc, this slowly built up idea of why All Might was a flawed hero in the end.

Mark has to face the fact that his father is a more morally grey person than he could ever imagine, whereas Deku has to face the fact that the villains are more morally grey in his world, and that makes the heroes look more flawed in comparison as well. The deliberation is all slowly bringing Deku to think over what Shigaraki asked him all the way in the beginning in there first meeting.

Were there ever people that the heroes couldn't save? If so then what are you supposed to do with the victims you can't save after they grow up? This is when Deku begins to start forming his own answer.

Deku hears the advice of both the other OFA users, and The Stinky Old Man (Gran Torino) that killing Shigaraki is the best option, but wants to explore other options.

Scenes like this clearly telegraph what the answer / conclusion Hori is leading us to to be. The same way that Toya is a Todoroki is foreshadowed long in advance, statements like "All for one is a power meant for saving, not killing" clearly set up Deku's Endgame. Deku's end goal is to find a way use his power to save Shigaraki rather than killing him. Everything else is just a matter of deliberation, Deku knows what his edgoal is but the chapters between then and the end of the manga is Deku having to figure out how exactly to save Shigaraki without killing him.

You Heroes Hurt Your Own Families Just to Help Strangers

Invincible is the story of Mark Grayson, the son of Omni Man / Nolan Grayson. He's been told all of his life that his father is a viltrumite, a race of benevolent aliens who send out people like Nolan to alien civilizations in order to uplift their entire civilization. Which is what led Nolan to come to earth and become Earth's greatest heroes.

This turns out to be a big fat lie when within 12 chapters Nolan not only slaughters the guardian's of the globe, but also has a confrontation with his son.

Mark has wanted to be just like his dad his entire life. Only to be slapped in the face with the realization he's known nothing about his dad his entire life, shown rather brilliantly by these panels where Nolan tries to have a normal father / son conversation with Mark while covered in blood.

Nolan isn't from a futuristic utopia but from a brutal, fascist space empire. He didn't come to earth to help bring it up, but to weaken its defenses and make it prime for conquering. He didn't have Mark out of love, but to produce another soldier for the viltrumite empire.

Mark's entire schtick is that he's invincible, but he's so inexperienced as a hero that he gets beat up constantly despite the fact he has the strongest power set in the series b/c he has viltrumite powers. However, not only does the series introduce moral greys by continually showing how Mark even with the best power set in the series constantly gets his ass kicked, it also challenges Mark's black and white thinking and hero worship of his father by showing him the kind of man his father really is.

Mark has wanted to be exactly like his father his entire life, but now that's suddenly a bad thing. His father is a morally reprehensible person and Mark is now a descendant of an alien race meant to conquer worlds. Not only is Mark confronted by who his father really is, but now everyone in Mark's life judges him by comparing him with his father.

Mark has to work with Cecil and be his on-call Superhero, both to be able to pay for college, and also to prove that he's not his dad. The unspoken part of the agreement is that Cecil gets to keep a leash on Mark and Mark has to prove that he'll never turn out like his father to earn Cecil's trust.

Cecil is automatically suspicious of him because if Mark were to turn evil, the planet would have no defenses against him just like it didn't have any for Omni Man. Mark's mother starts to drink and blames Mark for Omni-Man leaving in a drunken moment of weakness because of how much the information that Omni Man only regarded her as a pet affected her.

The comic even shows us that in most alternate universes, mark actually did make the decision to join his father's conquest, and this universe is one of the few exceptions. This is also where we're introduced to a major reoccuring antagonist in the comics, and also the main antagonist / final antagonist of season 2 of the cartoon Angstrom Levy.

Levy is someone who can jump between dimensions and has traveled to almost all of them collecting his alternate selves. He has witnessed for a fact that in most universes Mark sides with his father instead of fighting against him.

Levy enlists the clone bros to build a device that would combine the knowledge of his alternate selves into one individual. This device ends up breaking tragically (partially mark's fault, but levy himself made the decision to stop the machine in order to stop the clone bros from killing Mark). Levy's memories become confused as a result of the machine malfunctioning, and he can't tell the difference between himself and his alternate universe counterparts. This means that Levy now remembers several alternate universes where Mark did turn evil, and remembers them as if they happened to him.

It's better elaborated upon in this post:

The process by which Invincible has had to condense and consolidate the plot beats of the original comic, coupled with the opportunity it's granted the writers to tighten up and emphasize its themes on a second pass, has resulted in a newfound appreciation for how unbelievably fucking good Angstrom Levy's whole character concept is. What's that, Mark? Your main emotional crisis this season is your fear of turning out like your father? Here, have an archnemesis who's out to kill you because his memories were inadvertently overwritten with the lived experiences of hundreds of alternate versions of himself whose friends and families were slaughtered in worlds where you did, in fact, turn out exactly like your father. Because it turns out that that is in fact the multiversal norm. That you turn out like your father. And now you're left to wonder what set of arbitrary coinflips pulled you back from that abyss in this dimension, and whether your luck is going to continue to hold into the future.

Mark is not only hit with the revelation that his father isn't as good as he thought he was, but also while he's in a crisis about about whether or not he will turn out like his father, he learns the answer is yes, in several dimensions he turns out exactly like his father.

In My Hero Academia there are families like the Todoroki's who balance the difference between a hero's obligations to society, and a hero's obligation to society. However, that's a side plot where I'd argue that the main plot for Invincible and it's main focus is what Mark owes to the world as a hero, and what Mark owes to his family.

It's not just that Omniman is trying to invade earth for the Viltrumite empire. It's not just that he failed as a hero, but that he failed as a father. What makes Mark snap, is hearing Omniman call Debbie a pet. Until that point Mark was in denial and still trying to reason with his father.

Invincible is about two intersecting themes: Is Mark obligated to use his incredible powers to help make the world better? Can Mark be a good hero and a good family man?

While MHA has more far reaching societal implications in its themes and questions, Invincible is more specifically about the Grayson Family. It's generational trauma on a society level, vs generational trauma on an individual level. The way Nolan was raised on Viltrumite effects how he raised Mark causing their conflict, and Mark's conflict with his father effects most of his young adulthood when he's trying to figure out what person he wants to be (read: not his dad), but also the way he parents his daughter with Atom Eve.

Omni-man failed Mark as both a hero, and a father. Mark feels the need to overcompensate for what his father did the world and all those innocent people by acting as Cecil's lapdog and doing whatever Cecil tells him.

However, Mark is much more hurt by the personal betrayal than he lets on. It's not just that his father killed a bunch of innocent people, it's also that Mark's father failed as a father, abandoning both him and mom and choosing to be a viltrumite rather than being Mark's father. Mark's stated reason for wanting to be a hero post the omni-man reveal is to prove he's not like his dad to the world, and also make up for the innocent lives he failed to save. However, his unstated underlying reason is Mark is hurt and betrayed his father didn't put his family first, and this causes Mark to always put his family first.

This leads to two insecurities / narrative flaws. One, Mark is insecure about becoming like his father so he tries to prove he's nothing like him by being the most selfless, perfect hero possible. Two, Mark is hurt by being abandoned by his father and doesn't want to become a deadbeat like Nolan so he gets extremely overprotective of his own family.

These two things are obvious in conflict with one another: A hero has an obligation to the common good which sometimes means sacrificing time with your loved ones. However, being a good family man requires a level of selfishness that directly contradicts the selfless hero that Mark is pushing himself to be. In the comic the way Mark prioritizes his family and loved ones over the common good and justice is made even more obvious. His first instinct on seeing Omni-Man again isn't to call him out for being an awful father, but to hug him and ask him to come home. Mark is a distraught son first, and a hero second.

Mark has two flaws, his fear of being like his father makes him try too hard to be a perfect hero, and his trauma over losing his father makes him prioritize his family over being a hero. It's very much a having your cake and eating it too situation, oftentimes heroes make huge sacrifices for their personal lives in order to be heroes, that's basically a theme discussed in the comic with Nolan being absent for a lot of Mark's childhood, and why Mark's relationship with Amber fails.

The show also introduces us to the idea that Mark is so afraid of becoming like his father that he deliberately holds back his punches. Which is good when he's fighting earth villains, but bad when he's facing viltrumites who can only survive being disemboweled, but will also come to wipe out all life on earth if they're allowed to live. In the show it's directly mentioned that Mark is holding back, in the comic it's implied when we see how helpless Mark is in the fight against other viltrumites. Mark lacks the resolve to kill someone and when fighting a viltrumite, failing to put them down can have consequences because they are galactic conquerors who will not show you any mercy.

This all comes to a head in the Angstrom Levy fight where Mark makes his first kill on-screen when beforehand he'd never fought to kill before, and even held back against galaxy conquering aliens who were out to murder him and his dad.

However. before we begin that.

Should superheroes kill?

People often act like whether or not super heroes should kill their villains is a black and white topic, where it actually depends highly on context.

Batman’s an entire character is written around how he wants to redeem Gotham and save the city, most of his villains aren’t even sent to prison they’re sent to Arkham a facility that’s supposed to rehabilitee the mentally ill so they can rejoin society. Batman has decided it’s his place to stop crime, not his place to decide whether or not people have the right to live or redeem themselves.

Batman is also at risk for being just like his villains, that’s why he’s foils with Harvey Dent, someone who tried to prosecute people under the law who then snapped and went full violent mobster vigilante. Batman actually is at risk for walking the same path as Harvey if he decides murder is an option.

In X-Men 97, there was a character known as Rogue who dropped Simon Bolivar Trask off of a building in an act of vigilante justice. This action makes sense in context for several reasons. One Rogue was raised by Mystique and Destiny, is a former member of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, and began as a terrorist in the comics. She's not really a "moral highground" character like Batman. Two, Boliver Trask built a giant killer robot that resulted in the deaths of millions in Genosha which Rogue is a survivor of. Number three, Trask had no sympathetic reasons for building the genocide robot, he built the sentinels out of bigotry to wipe out mutants. He's not a victim in any way, he's an oppressor facing consequences for his actions.

Batman shooting Harvey Dent, his former best friend, a victim of severe mental illness and trauma that still has hope for recovery, and Rogue dropping the guy who made a genocide robot off of a building are both wildly different situations.

So in the context of MHA we have Shigaraki Tomura, a terrorist who's goal is to destroy japan enough that it will dismantle the hero system for good. Shigaraki Tomura is a ten year old child who lost control of his quirk and killed his family for mistake, he wandered for days in crowded city streets but not a single hero stopped to help him, then he was found by the main villain of the story and groomed for ten years into becoming his successor. Shigaraki is also surrounded by a group of societal outcasts who were failed by society in similiar ways, so Shigaraki knows he wasn't the only one failed by hero society and he starts to wage his war for their sake as much as his own.

In Invincible we have Angstrom Levy. Angstrom is not plotting mass murder the way that Shigaraki is. He is specifically only targetting Mark Grayson's family for revenge (at least the first time he showed up, the second time during the invincible war arc was different). Angstrom's revenge against Mark Grayson is misplaced, but to be fair the accident messed with his brain hardcore and he doesn't remember clearly what happened. He doesn't remember that he's the one who decided to stop the machine in order to help Mark. It's tragic. Angstrom also has the memories of like hundreds of different universes of evil Marks. Even though he's the victim of a tragic accident, he's also a victimizer in that he doesn't choose to just go after Mark, he deliberately picks Mark's family, his mother, and his infant little brother as a way of hurting Mark.

So both of these characters blur the line between villain and victim, but neither of them are like Trask in that they have no sympathetic motivation whatsoever. Shigaraki's actions don't come from bigotry, and he's not an oppressor. Trask was actually trying to do something good before his machine broke and his brains got scrambled, and now he wants personal revenge and to blame all his problems on Mark which is petty yes, but not on Trask's level of heartlessness.

So, there's a case that can be made here for both of them that there's room to save them. After all Mark and Deku aren't killers to begin with. Mark especially has an incredibly vested interest in not becoming a killer. Even if they don't explicitly go out of their way to save and redeem these two people, we're still at this point expecting the heroes to at least take down these two sympathetic figures non-lethally. Mark doesn't want to be like his dad and Deku has said explicitly he wants to save Shigaraki, and that OFA is a power for saving and not killing.

Also to sidestep this argument before people comment on my post with it.

What do you expect the heroes to just let a mass murderer live?

YES!

It happens in comics literally all the time.

Magneto, Wolverine, Jean Grey / Phoenix, Emma Scott, heck, OMNIMAN himself, all characters who have killed lots of people and all characters who get to live and even be on the heroes side. Of these three Jean Grey of all people has the highest body count.

Shonen Jump also has Vegeta. Have you ever heard of Vegeta? Most popular Shonen Rival of all time? Omni-man and Viltrumites are basically just Saiyans.

In real life they wouldn't let a mass murderer walk away but comics are not the same as real life. That's why characters are always punching dinosaurs all the time. Fun fact, if you were to try to punch a dinosaur in real life it would probably hurt your hand. I would advise against it. Dinosaurs are for the most part much stronger than human beings.

As I outlined above Shigaraki and Angstrom are different characters than Trask. They might all be murderers, but the first two have sympathetic elements and are humanized, they are victims of oppression (Angstrom's been killed by viltrumites in a whole bunch of worlds) whereas Trask is an oppressor.

So for both of these stories we are not expecting to see Deku and Mark kill their final villains (for the series and for this season). Deku because he's spent the final third of the series trying to work out a way to save the villains, and Mark because he doesn't want to turn out to be a violent murderer like his father so he's trying to be the most selfless, most perfect hero ever.

I THOUGHT YOU WERE STRONGER

So we finally reach the scenes in question and I thought I'd compare them without much commentary, just highlighting what happens without adding much spin.

So the final episode of Invincible Season 2 and Issue #33 of the comic is where Angstrom and Mark have it out. Angstrom appears in Mark's home and threatens his family. he brings up the comparison between Mark and his father right away. This is also something Angstrom has seen first hand by traveling to multiple universes where Mark has sided with his father.

In the cartoon he's a lot more confused because he's constantly remembering other universe's memories as if he were his own so he genuinely thinks he's taking down an evil viltrumite, in the comic he's being more petty and blaming Mark for his deformity (I think he doesn't remember that he was the one to take the helmet off by choice). In both versions he uses Mark's family as hostages to keep him from fighting back as he tries to send Markk to his death in several different realities.

Angstrom then ups the threat of violence from holding them hostage to threatening to kill them. In both the show and comic he brutally breaks Debbie's arm. Mark is sent through several more realities, only to discover that Debbie's arm is broken and lose his temper.

Mark and Angstrom's fist fight comes to an end, and while Mark has him on the ground he keeps hitting and hitting and hitting long after Angstrom stopped fighting back. Which is what prompts the famous "I thought you were stronger..."

Now, in this situation it looks pretty justifiable that Mark attacked Angstrom so aggressively,. it was self defense for one against a man trying to kill him and he only got truly aggressive after he saw his mother's arm get broken. Not only that he didn't intentionally kill Angstrom, you can argue he went too far in a case of clear self defense. Other people even tell Mark that this one isn't on him, including Cecil who compares Mark to his father the most.

Then, why is Mark so disturbed?

It's because this....

Is a deliberate parallel to this...

It's not just that Mark killed a man, it's that he killed a man by pounding on him relentlessly long after he'd stopped fighting back the exact same way his father did to him during their fight.

There's a difference between Mark say, fighting against a viltrumite and making a deliberate decision to kill them because of the danger that viltrumites represent to other people considering they are planet conquerors, and Mark killing this man because he lost his temper and couldn't control his own strength.

Mark spends the entire season trying to not be like his father, only to see first hand that he's capable of the exact same violence that his father is. The last episode of Season 2 summarizes this moment pretty perfectly in a montage of season 1 moments while Mark screams and breaks the sound barrier trying to push his viltrumite powers to their limits.

Mark: I'm strong enough and I can do this. It's all I've ever wanted for as long as I can remember. I want to do what you do. I want to be just like you. Omni-Man: You will be, son. You will. Mark screaming. Omni-Man: You'll outlast every single fragile being on this planet. You'll live to see this world crumble to dust and blow away. Everyone and everything you know will be gone. Mark screaming. Cecil: You know who else said that to me? Mark: I'm not my dad. Mark screaming some more. KRegg: Your father will be execute and you can return to earth. You will assume the mission to prepare earth for our rule.

So not only is Mark hit with the realization that he's just as capable of being violent and angry as his father is. He also is being forced by the situation to become more violent out of pragmatism, because if he doesn't get strong enough to fight viltrumites then they're going to come to his planet and take everything.

Not only has Mark lost some of his innocence, he's also being forced to throw the rest of it away. It's why Mark drops out of college at the end of the season because any pretense of balancing between his human life and his duty as a hero is gone. He is basically forced to be a viltrumite full time now and will abandon any semblance of trying to live his own life for a very, very long time until his relationship with Eve starts to get serious.

Which is why a pretty justifiable murder in this context is presented as so bloody, gruesome and traumatizing an event for both the audience and Mark himself. We both know there's no coming back from this.

As for the death of main series villain Shigaraki Tomura, Deku ends up being forced to kill Shigaraki in a situation similiar to Mark. Though I will highlight one difference right away. Mark was trying to reason with Angstrom, but he was at no point like "I want to save Angstrom, he's a victim I want to find some other way of ending this bloody conflict between us." Mark just didn't intend to go so far as killing him.

Deku entered the fight with the explicit stated desire to save Shigaraki rather than killing him, which would make him different from the previous generation of heroes because he wouldn't turn a blind eye to society's faults and victims like Shigaraki accused him of.

Deku makes a journey into Shigaraki's mental landscape to find Tenko in a recreation of the memory of the day of his worst trauma. As Tenko's quirk activates, Deku attempts to grab the little boy's hands to comfort him.

Deku's "Why I am here" is markedly different from All Might's. Deku says the reason he wants to save others is to take their hands, comfort them and give them peace, whereas All Might as the strongest hero tried to keep peace by beating all the villains down. Deku's way to become the greatest hero once again, focuses heavily on saving others, and offering his hand to everyone without hesitation instead of picking and choosing who to save like previous generations.

Deku even says that he has to extend a helping hand to everyone because he's learning that the world is more complicated than he thought, he was ignorant to a lot of people's suffering, and he can't sweep their pain under the rug anymore.

For a moment Deku unconditionally extending a hand to Shimura Tenko even as his mental body begins to decay away wins over Shimura Tenko. Though Shigaraki also resists because much like Twice he doesn't want to abandon the rest of his friends even if it means he personally will be saved.

However, any attempts to save Shigaraki are interrupted by AFO suddenly appearing out of nowhere and taking control of Shigaraki's body yet again.

At this point Deku does exactly what Mark does, which is relentlessly punch Shigaraki's body to death in order to kill AFO along with Shigaraki. In some small defese Shigaraki was also there too punching AFO in his mental landscape so he was assisting Deku in defeating AFO he wasn't helpless the entire time.

But, basically we see the same scene happen with Mark.

A hero who does not wish to kill is forced by circumstance to kill a villain. In Deku's case it should be even more devastating because they explicitly went into the fight wanting to save Shigaraki and they believed their power was for saving and not killing.

Yet, we don't get nearly as horrified a response from Deku.

However, instead Deku's final words are just about how he couldn't forgive Shigaraki and had to put a stop to him no matter what.

Even the way the scenes are presented to us are entirely different. Mark punches Angstrom in a wasteland a dry, dead place, until he's soaked in Angstrom's blood, and painted everything around him red. Once again, it's a visual callback to Mark's father beating him half to death, which was Mark's own lowest point.

Whereas, when Deku punches Shigaraki until he disintegrates not only is the violence or horror of Shigaraki's death not acknowledged, but it's played as a triumphant moment where the clouds clear from the sky and the stun starts shining.

In the cartoon Mark killing Angstrom leads to a total screaming breakdown where he has traumatic flashbacks of his dad beating him and pushes himself to break the sound barrier multiple times. It also leads him to making big life changes like dropping out of college to become a hero full time and giving up any pretense of having a normal life. As seen in a scene where he watches Amber from the sky, and is tempted to go down and greet her and just flies off, because Amber represents his connection to his humanity.

Also, Angstrom doesn't even die. He comes back way worse and that's how invinicble war arc starts.

In the aftermath of killing Shigaraki, Deku gets melancholy about not being able to save Shigaraki only to be reassured he did save him in the end. Only to be told by All Might that it's okay because he still saved Shigaraki's heart even if he killed him.

DEKU: "I couldn't save Tenko's life." "I reached out to his heart, and even though his hatred was crushed," "to the very end, Tenko" "was the leader of the League of Villains." ALL MIGHT: "Let me tell you this as someone who has had a near-death experience," "I think it's in the expression on his face at the end." "If there wasn't a crying boy there," "I think his heart was saved after all,"

People also try to convince mark that he did nothing wrong and that there was no helping what he did in a situation like that, but he doesn't let himself believe them.

The ending lines about the last episode of Season 2, are this:

Eve: I'm sorry Mark. It's not fair. You don't deserve this. Eve: You don't deserve this.

Which has a double meaning. Eve is just trying to comfort Mark, because arguably he shouldn't have to feel guilty for fighting in self defense. On the other hand what Mark hears is You don't deserve this in the context of Eve's feelings for him. An alternate timeline version of Eve confessed her love for Mark. Mark was about to bring it up but decided not to. At that moment as Eve embraces and comforts him, what Mark hears because of his own self loathing is that he doesn't deserve Eve comforting him, or her love for him.

Just to clarify I don't think that Mark is crying over Angstrom Levy specifically. In fact over time he's painted to be pathetic in his obsession with revenge, and what he amounts to is just wanting to blame everything on invincible when it was partially caused by his own actions.

However, it's inarguable that killing (or rather seemingly killing Angstrom) deeply impacted Mark and how he saw himself as a hero. It's less about Angstrom, and more about the loss of control, and the realization of how powerful his anger and hatred can get and what that means for him personally.

It also shows us where Mark's priorities lie. Mark wants to be a perfect hero and a perfect family man, and Invincible shows us he can't be both, his desire to protect his family leads him to staining his blood when he was trying so hard to be a good, selfless hero. This is all a part of a deliberate arc where Mark chooses more and more to value his family over being a hero. I'm not going to say whether or not it's the right choice, but it's a choice he makes, as a part of his character development where as he grows up and becomes a father his priorities change.

My point is that this moment has an impactful change on Mark, for arguably the rest of the comic.

Now my question is, with My Hero Academia will the death of Shigaraki Tomura, the series greatest villain and it's greatest victim have an equal impact on Deku's character that Levy's death did on Mark's?

#bnha 424 #bnha spoilers #invincible #mark grayson #deku #izuku midoriya #mha 424 #mha spoilers #omni man #bnha meta #mha meta

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a-jynx · 11 months

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buried promise (Astarion x reader)

bg3 has had me in a chokehold, specifically a certain vampiric rogue.. and i felt angsty, so i hope you enjoy !

maybe this will get me into writing after years lmao - this may be out of character, but i just needed this for my lil heart okay ;-;

angst warning tbh <3

You swore you'd find a cure. You swore to fight for him.

Yet, you forced him to promise to live if you died- he laughed when you said it, not truly believing such words from you... Why would he? You were cursed. Easily fixable... Right?

He sent for anyone - everyone - that could and would help you, but no luck came your way. The curse was progressing faster by day, he could see it. Draining the color from your skin, sucking up your warmth like a fire being snuffed out. Even, your eyes changed colors. Becoming something dull. Lifeless.

You saved the city. You helped even the most miserable low lives when you wouldn't benefit from it. And you... You helped him. Saved him. He swore to save you just like you did for him. Nights became longer as he sat rereading the books Gale had scavenged up for you. Rubbing sleep from his eyes while glancing at your sleeping figure curled up in one of your armchairs; snuggled into a cocoon of blankets to help you keep warm. You looked peaceful. No pain, just peace. Rolling his shoulders, he grabbed another book before practically stabbing his nose into the musky pages. He was going to save you.

"You promised to try, my love," he murmured into your hair, brushing it from your eyes as you curled further into your shared sheets. Cold nipped at your fingertips, biting at your blood supply as if it were your lover. "I tried, my star, but I just want to rest-"

"You've rested enough," he bit, crawling into bed behind you, wrapping his arms tightly around you. His grip shaking. "It's time for you try and get up. Move. You're letting this curse take hold and.." His voice trailed, feeling his chest ache. A tight bubble strangled his voice, quieting it. "Please." His voice was barely a whisper. "Please, try." You glanced over your shoulder to see him. His ruby eyes brimmed with tears. Turning in his hold, you pressed yourself into his chest, gripping his shirt tightly. Your shared ring catching on the fabric as you felt your own tears well up. "Aeterna Amantes," your lips pressed a careful kiss to his exposed skin. Dotting your way up his throat as you felt tears drip past your lips. "Lovers Forever."

He remembered teaching you that. That was his promise to you the day you slipped a ring on each other's finger. Now it's become your promise to. Even if you lay on Death's doorstep, your last breath would be a promise of love to him. A promise for his peace.

"Aeterna Amantes," his voice shook before he buried his head into your hair, lips fangs catching his already chewed lip. Pressing quick kisses against your crown as you allowed your own tears to caress your cheek, he bit back a bitter laugh. "I'll find something." He whispered, hiccupping back a sob. "I'll save you." Wrapped in your sheets and each other, somehow you felt more... Alive than you have in these last days. "I know you will."

Time had not been kind.

He failed. And he kept failing, and failing, and failing - everything seemed to work against him in this rush against time. This curse had sucked your very life from your bones and left you bedridden, hells, you couldn't even make it to the other side of your bed.

"There's not more we could do?" He could beg..

"I'm sorry, my friend, but we've exhausted all of our options." He could slaughter. He could give away the ring that keeps him from bursting into ashes at dawn. He should've protected them. He could've- "The best you could do now is, just be with them. Fill these last moments with peace." He was tired of peace. He wanted life.

"Right. Well, I trust you can find the door," he turned away from his friend, the one person he thought could save his lover - his darling - Had failed him. "I need to keep searching."

"Astarion, these might be their final moments and they're withering away-"

"Do you believe I haven't realized that, Gale?! I'm watching them become a husk of their former self!" He couldn't fight back the laugh, yet tears dripped down his cheeks. "I am the one who watches as they wither away in our very bed. The bed that should've been warmed by them for years to come have it not been for the wench we met! I busy myself with every book and scroll that the lands and seas could offer me! I sit beside them waiting," his lips trembled. "I sit beside my lover waiting for their breathing to stop. For their heart to quit. To take them away from me,"

"I meant no harm,"

"And yet, you suggest I sit idly by and allow my love to perish." Astarion moved upstairs, listening to the front door slam shut behind his friend. He felt his legs give from beneath him, his knees slamming into the stairs. Kneeling there, he pressed himself against the wall, gripping his white curls with shaking fingers. Tugging at the ends, he jumped at the loud thump that came from the top of the stairs. Moving quickly, he nearly fell at the sight.

You sat up from your kneeling, holding your knee as he rushed over, grabbing the blanket that rested around your shoulders as you leaned into his chest. Sweat dripped down your brow while you wheezed, trying to catch your breath. "What happened," he searched over your body for any marks. His fingertips grazed over your old battle scars and even his old love bites, the ridges seemed to chase his touch. "Why're you out of bed, my love? You should've called for me-"

"I heard you and Gale," you murmured into his shirt. His grip seemed to tighten around your waist as you curled further into him. "I know our time is coming to an end." Your breath seemed to be so hushed that even his ears could pick it up. Or, more so he didn't want to hear it.

"Godsdamnit.. Gale is a fool." He snipped, carefully maneuvering your body to fit against his own as he lifted you. You shivered against him, wincing at the movement and bitterness in his voice. "We'll find you something," he paused, pushing open your bedroom door and quickly setting you back into your silk sheet prison. You felt your heart shatter at his state. His skin seemed more transparent, his eyes a duller yet still brilliant red, and dark circles curled around his eyes as they seemed to be sunken in.

"What if there is nothing for me, my love," you sighed, caressing his cheek as he tsked, grabbing your hand and pressing gentle kisses to your tattered knuckles. "What if you're... Wasting our time?"

"Any time I have that is searching for something to help you," he paused, pressing a kiss to your wrist. "Is." Anther kiss to your shoulder. "Never." Another pressed to your neck, you shivered. "Wasted." He pressed his lips firmly against your own. Both of your lips chapped and scratchy, but he moved further into your bubble, pressing his body against your own. His hands slithered up your body, tugging you into his lap while his lips ventured down your throat. His fangs ghosted your flesh, barely leaving a mark in their wake.

You lurched away, your chest squeezed, and your lungs felt as if they were burning from the inside out. You turned away, attempting to cover your cough as Astarion laid you back against your pillow. Blood trickled past your cracked lips as he stared at you with wide eyes, reddened lips agape. "I'm, I'm sorry," you quivered over each shake, covering your mouth as more blood smeared across your chin and palm. He moved closer, ripping a piece of his shirt and pressed it against your lips, wiping away whatever blood spilled.

"Hush, just let it out, darling," His voice trailed as your coughing fit continued. More blood came and more clothes were ripped from his very back. Time had run out..

He left you to sleep, wandering outside into the crisp night air, feeling his lungs burn as he inhaled as deeply as he could. His chest tightened as his mind flickered back to your blood smeared across your lips. The gags and cries as you tried to stop, tried to swallow water to make the copper taste leave, but you said it reminded you of him. The smell and taste. Balling his fists, he moved through the forest behind your home. No clear direction in mind, just movement. Clear air. Dampened colors of the world. He stumbled as he came to a cliff. With a hiss, he stood at the edge, feeling the heightened breeze push past him as if trying to make him stumble and fall.

Fall.

Oh, he fell. He fell for you.

You were a rare gem in his eyes. Someone who could roll with the punches of life and still come out with a smile. Perhaps someone's blood smeared across your cheek, but he would happily wipe it away before pressing his lips to yours. You were his reason for freedom. Hells, you found him something to help keep his freedom amongst the world after 200 centuries of torture and forgetting who he was. But you gave him someone new. You showed him there was a way to a good life... A precious life. But now his reason is being ripped away from him. And he can't fight or kill this beast.

Astarion watched the horizon, his gaze twitching down to the two rings that cladded his fingers. His other hand moved towards it, trembling as he traced the golden bands. One glittered with rubies, a slight glow to the band itself. The other could be seen as just an ordinary ring, yet it held the most value to him. It was his promise to you. The shared rings between you. His gaze settled on the trees to his left. Moving towards it, he smiled softly as his fingers grazed the bark. Your initials carved jaggedly into it with his last name attached. Memories flooded his mind as tears washed over him once more, yet he couldn't fight back the smile gracing him. Turning around he noticed a rather large pair of rocks near the cliff, swallowing thickly he moved closer and grabbing them, plucking his dagger from its sleeve and began to carve.

Hours had passed. He found himself back in front of his - your - home. More memories danced around his mind as he walked inside, his hand grazed every surface it could reach as he moved up the stairs. His chest felt tight, yet he pressed on.

Opening the bedroom door, his gaze softened as it fell to you. Your chest barely pushed up the blankets as sweat matted your hair to your forehead. Your lips were a chapped pink, torn from your nervous chewing - possibly his fangs work as well. Your eyes fluttered as he settled onto the bed next to you, caressing your cheek as you blinked awake. "Finally coming to bed?" You tried to smile as he mirrored it, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I thought we could go somewhere first.. Remember our cliff?" His voice hushed as you sighed, gently nodding. "How could I forget the most magical place of my life?" He smiled again, brushing hair from your eyes. "I would say this was the most magical," he grinned as you scoffed, quickly turning away as you coughed shaking gently.

"I'll help you, my love," he rose from your shared bed. Carefully moving his arm underneath your knees and caressing your back, your body cradled against him. The movements felt like that of a mother rocking her newborn child as he descended down your stairs, still holding you close as you sighed into his ripped and stained shirt. "You... You should wash this, my star," you murmured, feeling the scratch of your old blood stain as he tsked.

"I'll be alright, darling, you just rest..." His voice seemed softer than usual. Lucid even. You heard a door open and shut as the world around you chirped and sang with birds and insects songs. The breeze chilled your skin as you gently shook against Astarion's chest, goosebumps lining your flesh. "We're almost there, my sweet, just a bit longer, please." You nodded against his chest, sighing softly.

All movement stopped as your body met the dirt and grass, Astarion following as you leaned into the curve of his body. You smiled, moving your head to where you could see your vampiric lover. He seemed... At peace. Whole. You caressed his cheek with your trembling hand, your thumb dragging across his skin. His lips caught your thumb, pressing a soft kiss to it.

"Thank you for bringing me here." You whispered, afraid to disturb the gentleness surrounding you.

"Thank you for being with me." He whispered back, catching your lips in an almost blistering kiss. You inhaled, feeling your chest tighten and your eyes began to flutter, yet your lips still danced along with his own. Seemingly chasing his, begging for more time..

He felt his lips quiver as you slumped into his arms. Your mouth falling away from his own while your head rolled into the juncture of his shoulder and neck. Tears stained his cheeks as he held you close, shaking with gasping sobs.

You were gone. Just... Gone.

Licking his lips, he gently stood, taking your limp figure with him before moving towards the hole he had made before.. He knew your time was over when he saw the blood. The thing he once thrived to take from you, now all he could wish for was for it to return to you. Carefully placing your body into the earth, sinking to his knees as he pushed and shoved dirt over your body; more tears blurred his vision as he pushed forward, wanting to dive in after you. Once his hands were dusted in the dirt that now held your body, he glanced to the stone he had carved earlier, Y/N Ancunín. Reaching over, he plucked one of the few wildflowers and laid it on top, releasing a shaking breath.

Astarion blinked once, twice before swallowing thickly. Early sunlight peaked over the horizon now, awakening the world around him and yet... All he wanted was to rest. To sleep. Carefully standing, he moved around your grave, and pressed a kiss to your gravestone. Standing to his full height, he turned towards the cliff and watched as the sun rose over head. Feeling the warmth that caressed his cold skin, he huffed out a sigh as he walked backwards, settling into the spot next to your grave. Licking his lips, he glanced towards your sight once again as he smiled softly, closing his eyes and seeing your smiling face greeting him.

"Aeterna Amantes, my darling.. Lovers Forever. I will find you again," he paused, swallowing around his tongue as he reached towards his left hand, gently tugging off your wedding band and pushing it into the earth underneath him.

"After this life, and the next... I love you, my sweet love."

His voice fell into a sigh as he tugged off the last ring. The sunlight bit and bullied through his flesh, burning and peeling at it as he began to sparkle and crumble. His final thought of hugging you tight while pressing a firm yet loving kiss to your lips. Tugging you into his chest, while you laugh and smile into the kiss.

The sunlight ring glittering in front of your shared burial site. Your headstones he carved with a gentle caress, love, and kindness. You were lovers. Soulmates even. Beings that were crafted to fit one another and Astarion knew that... If he lost you, he would lose himself all over again. Besides... He promised you.

#bg3 x reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #reader insert #bg3 astarion #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate 3 x reader #baulders gate 3 #astarion angst #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion romance

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rynwritesreid · 11 months

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Chemical Love|| Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer has feelings for reader but tries to rationalise why he feels that way with logic and science. While reader believes there is no science to love.

Content: GN reader. No warnings, just pure fluff.

Masterlist || Requests are open | Navigation

1.2k words

Spencer knew that love was a chemical reaction. He could always rationalise it; he could break it down. He would say that love is just noradrenaline, dopamine and phenylethylamine. Love to him was nothing more than just a chemical reaction happening inside our brains. That’s just the kind of person Spencer was, rational, logical, and smart. He had statistics and facts for everything, he could rationalise almost anything.

But you, he couldn’t rationalise you. You were pretty, caring and loving. You believed in love at first sight and soulmates. If you were someone else, he would argue with you, point out why those things just couldn’t logically happen. If you were someone else, he would ask how such an intelligent person could believe in something so intangible and illogical. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t be the man to ruin love for you.

He couldn’t rationalise how you made him feel. He could have so much to say but he would see you and all thoughts would vanish. If he thought like you, he would say that this is love, that the universe had brought you two together because it had a plan for you, but he wasn’t you. He had no reason to love you, you were in a relationship, you never flirted with him, and you treated him like a friend. But he still wanted to be near you whenever he could be.

If Spencer could step back from logical thinking, he would see that love doesn’t always follow reasoning and logic. He would be able to see that love had no bounds. I mean sure you were already in a relationship, and you would never cheat on anybody but that couldn’t stop love, and it couldn’t stop Spencer from wanting you.

He did try to rationalise it, to find a logical explanation for his feelings, but it was like trying to explain the colour blue to someone who was born blind. Love was irrational, illogical, and yet it was the most powerful emotion in the world. And this was turning his world upside down.

Spencer had always been a man of numbers and facts, but since he met you, he was no longer able to keep his emotions at bay. His heart would skip a beat every time he saw you, and his mind would wander to thoughts of you throughout the day. He knew that he needed to stay away from you, to keep his feelings under control, but he found that he couldn't resist your magnetic pull.

He tried to distract himself by immersing himself in his work, but even that didn’t work. He would find himself staring into space, lost in thought, and his colleagues would often catch him looking at you when he thought they weren't paying attention.

It was torture to be around you, to feel the pull of your energy and your beauty. And yet, he found that he couldn't stay away. He would rationalize his feelings, telling himself that it was just a chemical reaction, a passing infatuation. But the both of you knew that wasn’t true.

Spencer hated how with one mention of your boyfriend he was jealous. He would think to himself that it should be him. He should be the only man to love you, to be there for you, to care for you in that way. He hated your boyfriend and he hated himself for feeling this way.

But he couldn’t help it, it was love after all. I mean he loved everything about you. He loved the way you laughed, the way you spoke, the way you moved. He loved your quirks and your flaws, and he loved the way you looked at him. He loved how he felt when he was around you, how he felt alive and free and happy in a way that he had never felt before.

And if you were to ever admit it, you loved Spencer. Your relationship was coming to end, the both of you had just fallen out of love. But Spencer, you would never be able to fall out of love with Spencer.

You loved the way he was logical and rational, but you also loved the way he looked at you. You loved how he made you feel important and valued. You loved the way his voice softened when he talked to you, and the way he would get lost in thought when he was trying to make sense of something.

You knew that Spencer had feelings for you, but you also knew that he would never act on them. He was too rational, too logical, and too afraid of the consequences. But you couldn't ignore the fact that you had feelings for him too. You tried to push them aside, to rationalise them away, but they persisted.

So, when you had broken up with your boyfriend, you decided it was now or never. You walked over to his desk, to see him lost in his work. He was so attractive like this; I mean he was attractive all the time, but he was especially attractive like this.

You had thought about admitting your feelings to Spencer for a long time, but now you were actually doing it, you had no idea what to say. So, you tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked up, surprised to see you standing there. You took a deep breath and spoke before you lost your nerve.

"Spencer, I need to tell you something," you said, your heart pounding in your chest.

He looked at you expectantly, his expression curious but guarded. He had every right to be. I mean you would be too. But you couldn’t hold back anymore, you couldn’t just not admit your feelings for him, because that’s not who you are.

“Spencer, I, erm.” You paused. You were freaking out. Did you really want to do this. What happens if everything is all in your head and he doesn’t feel the same way about you.

“Spencer, I like you. I broke up with my boyfriend, and it’s not because of you. But it’s you. It’s you who I love and I will always love.” You stopped talking, you couldn’t say anything else. You just stared at him, clueless of what he was going to say. God, what happens if he doesn’t actually have feelings for you.

“You don’t have to say anything, but I just wanted you to know.” You stepped back and walked back to your desk. Your eyes filling with tears. You knew you said he didn’t have to say anything back, but you wished he had.

Spencer was stunned. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. He had come to accept his feelings for you, and he was learning how to deal with the fact that you were with someone else. However, he had never expected you to feel the same way he does, let alone express those feelings to him.

Finally, he got up from his desk and walked over to you. He put his hand on your shoulder and turned you around to face him. Your eyes were filled with tears, and his heart ached at the sight of them.

"Hey," he said softly, wiping away a tear from your cheek with his thumb. "You don't know how long I've wanted to hear those words from you."

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eatmangoesnekkid · 4 months

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THE WOMB REQUIRES US TO LIVE NON-VIOLENTLY Most of what I see going on with those of us with wombs is that we are still looking at the world as 15 year old girls. We are looking at the world through old timelines, archaic imprints or predictive religious programming. The latter is lovely if you are religious, but most of us are unconscious that what we actually believe is true has been adopted from religious teachings taught by people who are no longer alive. Women have been taught to assume that anything related to their arousal is about sex and men because we don't have the proper perspective on how our female bodies truly operate. These deep foundational misalignments are subtle forms of violence internalized from patriarchy that hold us back from thriving in our magical female bodies in this 3D reality, elevating our consciousness and mitochondria, regenerating our cells, and transforming this world into the brighter—other women, men, children, all people, nature, and the like. It is your birthright to have ease, to feel safe, and experience heaven on earth. But so many women are doing the same thing year after year, lifetime after lifetime, and do not do anything differently in a radical way in order to create a new imprint. We must go deeper into what it is actually required in order to come fully alive in our bodies and transform our health, lives and this world's reflection. Principles, values, and rituals are essential and I will share an example of one of mine. Before I fly, I stretch a few times a day and fast on juices, water, and teas a week before to raise the quality of my light body, that internal halo, the mystical sacred lubrication which I know has contributed to me having beautiful easeful travel experiences. And what would register to another person as “annoying” or “messed up” resonates to my tissues as gratitude or a blessing. When your divine energy is flowing, you naturally integrate well into a new climate and culture and won't have to worry about getting sick so easily. I also pack early so that my tissues can be relaxed and thereby energy flowing even more. I cover my head with fabric or a divinely prayed over ribbon or scarf before boarding the flight. I stretch during long flights to keep my energy flowing. In other words, I am mindful not to live in my body violently-rushing here and there, staying up late, and packing at the last second. All the qualities and actions that make us come fully alive in our bodies and be more naturally radiant and beautiful have been dismissed and downgraded for the quick, fast, and convenient. The rise of health issues in the female line is devastating. What we have done to the female body is a tragedy and we have have to be better, less violent to ourselves by moving lower, taking our time, and being gentle with the discomfort that comes up as the universe catches up to our new frequency and brings more harmony. We need real philosophies, belief systems, and practical actions that actually work for our bodies and not against them. I mentioned recently how "lubrication" is my #1 core value. I didn't say that for giggles; I really meant that! I am deeply feminine woman but I'm also a strategist who knows that the female body works most magically and optimally when our energy is flowing -which naturally means that our tissues will be lubricated. Lubrication, libido, or the flow of fluids are certainly more than about sex, as lovely as sex can be. First and foremost, they are about strength, health, wellness, longevity, and mental clarity. How can you be a little more attention to your body? What are your core values? What are your principles for living in your body? What violent belief systems do you need to let go of? As we continue to wake up to the fact that the world is not what we've been programmed to believe it to be and the divine feminine continues to break through the ashes, messages like what I am saying will become more popular and less radical and jarring. If you are reading this, you are already ahead of the game.-India Ame'ye, Author

Tumblr won't let me edit post but should read: "Women are generally exhausted and bored which is why constantly consuming/taking information and shopping all the time is so attractive. The qualities and actions that make us fully alive in our bodies and more naturally radiant and beautiful have been dismissed and downgraded for the quick, fast, popular or convenient. "

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runnning-outof-time · 9 months

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I’ll Be Home For Christmas | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - written for @pacifymebby ‘s 2k Follower/Christmas Celebration

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy promises (Y/N) that he’ll be home for his family’s first Christmas in Arrow House. (Y/N)’s hoping it won’t only happen in her dreams.

Warnings: none - just some Christmas fluff

Word Count: 2223

A/N: Congrats on 2K, Layla! I went with the song ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ … I listened to Brett Eldredge’s version of it and came up with this idea. I hope you like it. And it’s fitting that this is being posted on Christmas Eve, right? Sorry for cutting it close. Happy Holidays to all! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one

(Y/N) sat back on the chaise lounge with a sigh. She bit on her bottom lip as she held the reciever up to her ear.

“Are you still there?” came from the other line.

“I am,” was what she was able to get out before she choked on her words, fingertips pressed against her lips as she tried her damnedest to hold back tears.

“Tell me what’s wrong, love.” Even miles away and through a phone call, Tommy was still able to read his wife like an open book.

There was a moment of silence before she responded. In that time, (Y/N) was trying to decide whether she wanted to make her plights known or not. On one hand, he was her husband; the person who she was supposed to disclose these sorts of problems to. On the other, she didn’t want to add another problem onto his probably already full plate.

“(Y/N)?” Tommy’s voice cut through her internal debate, bringing her back to the conversation.

“When will you be home, Tommy?” she decided to come right out and ask.

“I’ll be home for Christmas,” he assured her within seconds of her making her worry known.

“But…but Christmas is tomorrow,” she stammered out, wracking her mind to try and figure out if his homecoming was even possible, “where even are you right now?”

“I’m in London, and I know it’s tomorrow. I’ll be home,” he assured her once more.

“It’s our first Christmas in this new house,” she said as she looked around the reading room that she’d decorated to her particular taste. The manor was beautiful, but it felt so empty when Tommy was away. “The kids had the best time decorating the tree,” she added, a smile gracing her face as she thought back to the time she spent with her three children earlier in the week. A time that Tommy had missed out on.

“That’s good to hear,” Tommy smiled as he closed his eyes and pictured his three young children gathered around the large tree in the living room. He never had a chance to make a memory like it when he was younger. The fact that he wasn’t present for his children at this time felt like a stab to the heart.

(Y/N)’s smile faltered as the thing that had been eating her alive from the moment her husband’s car pulled out of the driveway returned to the forefront of her mind. “I can’t have you gone much longer, Tommy,” she finally spoke, deciding to come out with her thoughts rather than keep them in.

“I won’t be, darling,” he assured her.

“When will these business trips end?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he sighed as he ran a hand over his face.

“Yes you do. You’re the head of the company,” she insisted, a tinge of desperation seeping into her words.

“They’re part of the job.”

“They’re taking away time from our family.”

Silence rang on the line after (Y/N)’s declaration. She was no longer able to hold back the tears, letting them silently slip down her cheeks as she tried to keep the front that everything was fine on her end of the conversation.

“I’ll be home for Christmas, (Y/N),” Tommy was the one to break the silence after a few moments had passed.

(Y/N) swiped away her tears and nodded even though he wasn’t able to see her. “Ok, Tommy,” she agreed, even though she knew that it would most likely be a moot promise.

“I have to go,” he told her then.

“Ok,” she nodded once more, “I love you.”

“I love you. Give the kids a kiss for me.”

“I will.”

The line went dead after she told him she would. (Y/N) hung the phone up and let out a shuddered sigh. She looked at the garland lined mantle for a minute before closing her eyes and silently hoping that Tommy’s promise would come true this time around.

The sentence “mumma, wake up!” graced (Y/N)’s ears at the beautiful hour of seven o’clock the next morning. The feeling of three, small bodies bouncing on the bed soon accompanied it, making the woman finally open her eyes.

She was reluctant to at first because she knew that doing so would bring her beautiful dream of sitting by Tommy while watching the kids play with their presents to an end. The sight of the empty spot next to her in bed still hit her like a ton of bricks even though she was prepared for it. She couldn’t dwell on it though, because the kids’ excitement increased tenfold the second they saw her eyes open.

“Let’s go downstairs!” Charlotte, the oldest of the three, declared as she hurried to get off of the bed and make her way to the door. Max and Henry - twins who were two years younger than Charlotte, quickly followed their sister, their excitement practically palpable.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile as she tossed the covers to the side and moved over to where her robe was hung on the dressing screen. She took the same path as her children once the cozy garment was tied tightly against her frame.

The children were already rooting around the gifts that were placed under the tree, trying to find the ones that had their names on it. (Y/N) smiled as she made her way over to the couch and sat down on it. A tinge of sadness crept up on her before she could stop it. Tommy should be here, she thought to herself as the children went about unwrapping their presents.

Tommy’s words from the previous evening then echoed in her mind: “I’ll be home for Christmas”. She wanted to badly to believe that and think nothing else. But that sadness still loomed.

The children were excited to have their mum unwrap the presents that they made for her once they were finished opening theirs, and (Y/N) was able to push the sadness away as she beamed at the thoughtful, homemade gifts they’d given her.

The gloomy feelings came back when the kids went back to playing with their toys and she was left alone on the couch once more. An even larger wave washed over her when she noticed the unopened presents that still sat under the tree. One of the tags was facing upwards, and the name ‘DAD’ was written on it in Charlotte’s unmistakeable hand.

“I’ll be home for Christmas,” Tommy’s words rang in her mind again. She sighed and hugged her robe tighter to her body before looking over to the clock. Only in my dreams, she thought as she tried to focus back on the kids.

(Y/N) and the children ate a wonderful breakfast before the three young ones quickly dragged her back into the front room so that they could continue playing. She’d just gotten comfortable under the blanket when the sound of tires on gravel was heard outside. It made her eyebrows furrow. The family wasn’t supposed to come over until later, she thought to herself as she glanced over at the clock sitting on the mantle. It was still early in the morning.

Then the worry started to set in. (Y/N) was no stranger to the type of business that Tommy was involved in. She was by his side while he created a name for himself, and she stayed with him every step of the way. He continuously assured her that no one would ever come to their home and attack their family, but (Y/N) still couldn’t get the possibility of it to leave her mind.

She was so engulfed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear Frances say “welcome home, Mr. Shelby. They’re in the front room,” as her husband entered the foyer. It didn’t even set in as Tommy appeared in the archway, and the three children went running over to greet their father.

Things didn’t become clear until Charlotte turned to face her and exclaimed: “mumma! Dad’s home!”

Then everything came into view. Charlotte with a wide smile on her face. Max and Henry in their father’s arms. And Tommy. Tommy was looking right at her with one of the widest smiles she’s seen from him in a long time.

“Let’s go over and see your mum, eh?” Tommy said to his sons before he made his way over to the couch. Max and Henry wriggled out of his arms once he stopped in front of (Y/N), clambering up into her lap to give her a hug and a kiss before they went back to their new toys.

Tommy’s eyes quickly found (Y/N)’s once it was just the two of them. “You made it home,” she said, her smile practically stretching from ear to ear.

“I told you I’d be home from Christmas, love,” he answered, winking as he sent her a grin.

“C’mere, Tommy,” she held her hands out to him, and he got the idea, sitting down next to her on the couch. (Y/N) didn’t waste a second, throwing her arms around his frame and practically climbing into his lap as she hugged him tightly. “I’m so happy you’re home,” she whispered into his neck as she nestled her face deeper into it.

“Wouldn’t miss Christmas with you for the world,” he told her, his hands finding her shoulders then. She took it as a hint and lifted her head to look at him. “I love you,” (Y/N),” he said as he reached up and ran his hand down her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her smile widening before she closed the gap between them to press her lips to his.

The kiss was filled with so much love, and (Y/N) would have happily held it longer if her lungs weren’t screaming for air. She was the one to pull away, but she didn’t move far, opting to rest her forehead against his. “I love you, Tommy. Merry Christmas,” she breathed, her eyes still closed as she reveled in his presence.

“Merry Christmas,” he responded in a similar tone, his arms moving to wrap around her frame.

“Dad! We have presents for you!” Charlotte’s excited voice broke into their reverie moments later.

(Y/N) moved slightly so that she was now sitting next to him, and Tommy managed to tuck one of his arms behind her back - in efforts to keep her as close as possible - before their children came over to him with presents in hand.

“Open mine first!” Max exclaimed, thrusting the small box into his father’s lap.

Tommy smiled at the boy before he went about opening the present. (Y/N) watched on with a smile, knowing exactly what her husband was getting and how excited their son was to give it to him. Max let out like giggles of excitement as Tommy took the silver tie clasp that had a horse’s head on it out of its holder.

“Do you like it?” the boy asked with anticipation.

“I love it,” Tommy smiled before adding, “I’ll wear it the first chance I get.”

Henry gave him the next gift, which was a fancy pen that the boy had picked out himself. He said that Tommy could use it to write all of ‘his important letters’. Tommy made a promise to use it as his only pen from then on.

Then it was Charlotte’s turn. “Be careful when unwrapping it, dad. It’s fragile,” she gave a warning, one which Tommy chuckled at but also heeded to. “Do you like it?” she asked, like her younger brother had, when it was completely unwrapped.

Tommy didn’t say anything at first. Instead he stared at the present. (Y/N) peered over his shoulder to see what it was. Charlotte had been keeping it a secret from everybody. What Tommy was holding made (Y/N)’s heart swell. It was a hand drawn picture of her family - Tommy and (Y/N) stood on either side, then Max and Henry were standing next to them. In the middle was Charlotte, holding both of her brothers’ hands while she was wearing her favorite, purple colored dress. (Y/N) also didn’t miss the fact that Tommy, Max and Henry were all wearing a peaked cap.

“Do you like it?” Charlotte asked again, getting slightly impatient as her father was taking too long.

“I love it, sweetheart,” Tommy answered, finally looking up to smile at his daughter, “it’s perfect, Charlie,” he added, sounding choked up.

“It’s our family!” Charlotte exclaimed, a beaming smile now present on her face.

“It is,” Tommy nodded, “and it’s going in a frame so that it can sit on me desk.”

“So you can look at it always?” she asked.

“So I can look at it always,” he answered with a nod. Charlotte then rushed to get onto the couch so that she could hug her father.

(Y/N) quickly took the picture out of Tommy’s hands before it would get crumbled. She couldn’t help but smile as she looked down at it. Everything she needed in life was present in that picture…and was sitting beside her on the couch.

She was thankful that Tommy was able to make it home for Christmas.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

Listen to Brett Eldredge’s version of I’ll Be Home For Christmas:

HERE.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic

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estapa-edwards · 5 months

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HIDDEN FEELINGS - M. ESTAPA

paring: Mark Estapa x fem! reader

word count: 3.1k

requested? yes - mark falling for ethan’s twin sister, and never doing anything out of respect but ethan notices his heart eyes and tells him to go for it

warnings: use of y/n. multiple pov

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The rink is where I feel most alive. The smooth glide of my skates over the ice, the echo of the puck against the boards, the camaraderie of my teammates—hockey is more than a game to me, it’s a way of life. Playing for the University of Michigan has always been a dream, and now, here I am, living it.

I'm the twin sister of Ethan Edwards. Yes, that Ethan Edwards who's a standout player on the University of Michigan hockey team, right alongside Mark Estapa. Growing up, Ethan and I were inseparable. Hockey was our mutual love, and even though we both made it to the university level, we ended up on different teams. Ethan plays as a defenseman, known for his strength and reliability, while I'm a forward, valued for my speed and strategy.

Mark Estapa, on the other hand, is a force to be reckoned with on the ice. As a forward like me, he's got an uncanny ability to read the game, find the gaps in the defense, and score those crucial goals. He’s a great player, and over the seasons, I’ve come to respect and admire his skills.

Our growing friendship, however, didn’t happen overnight. Our two teams would occasionally practice together, and it was during these joint sessions that I began to notice Mark's friendly and approachable nature. We'd find ourselves paired up during drills or chatting during water breaks.

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One afternoon, after a particularly intense drill, Mark and I found ourselves catching our breaths on the bench.

“You handled that drill pretty well, Y/N,” Mark said, flashing me a genuine smile.

“Thanks, Mark. You weren’t too bad yourself,” I replied, matching his smile.

From there, our conversations became longer and more meaningful. One day, as we were stretching before practice, Mark turned to me with a curious expression.

“So, Y/N, what made you choose Michigan?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“I guess it was a combination of things,” I answered, thinking back to my decision. “The coaching staff here is amazing, and the program has a great reputation. Plus, Ethan being here didn’t hurt,” I added with a playful grin.

Mark chuckled. “I can see how having family around could be a bonus. I chose Michigan for similar reasons. The team has a great dynamic, and the opportunities for growth both as a player and a student are unparalleled.”

Our conversations didn’t just revolve around hockey; we talked about our classes, our hobbies, and our future goals. It was during one of these post-practice chats that Mark opened up about his passion for photography.

“I’ve always loved taking pictures,” he said, showing me some of his recent shots on his phone. “It’s a way for me to capture moments and emotions that words can’t express.”

I was impressed by his talent and passion. “These are amazing, Mark. You have a real eye for it.”

“Thanks, Y/N. It’s something I hope to pursue more seriously someday,” he said, looking slightly vulnerable.

As the weeks went by, our conversations continued to deepen. We shared stories about our families, our dreams, and even our fears. I found myself looking forward to our practice sessions not just for the hockey but also for the chance to spend time with Mark.

We'd find ourselves paired up during drills or chatting during water breaks. Our teammates began to notice our growing camaraderie, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to tease us about our lengthy conversations.

“You two should just start your own podcast,” Ethan joked one day as he walked past us, a smirk on his face.

Despite the teasing, Mark and I cherished our newfound friendship. Our long conversations became the highlight of my day, and I found myself feeling more and more connected to him with each passing practice.

But lately, it's not just his skills on the ice that have caught my attention.

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Growing up as a twin, you learn the importance of boundaries and loyalty early on. Ethan and I shared everything—our toys, our secrets, our dreams. So, when I first joined the University of Michigan's hockey team and met Mark Estapa, I couldn’t help but notice his attractiveness. His tall stature, his athletic build, and that charming smile were hard to ignore. But I also knew he was Ethan’s teammate, and I would never do anything to jeopardize their friendship or our family bond.

During those early practices, I would steal glances at Mark, admiring his skill and athleticism on the ice. His dedication and passion for the game were evident, and it only added to his appeal. But each time I felt a flutter in my stomach or caught myself daydreaming about him, I would quickly push those feelings aside, reminding myself of the unspoken rule: teammates were off-limits.

As our teams began to practice together more frequently, Mark and I started to interact more. Our conversations were light-hearted and filled with laughter, but underneath it all, there was an undeniable chemistry brewing. I found myself drawn to him not just because of his looks but also because of his personality. He was kind, thoughtful, and genuinely interested in getting to know me.

Despite these growing feelings, I was determined to keep my emotions in check. I didn’t want to create any awkwardness or tension within the team, especially given Ethan’s close friendship with Mark.

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MARKS POV

The first time Y/n Edwards and I really talked was during one of those joint practices. I remember it well— we were both catching our breath on the bench after a tough drill. I looked over at Y/N, and for the first time, I saw her not just as Ethan's twin sister but as Y/N Edwards, an incredible player in her own right.

“You handled that drill pretty well, Y/N,” I said, trying to initiate a conversation.

“Thanks, Mark. You weren’t too bad yourself,” she replied, matching my smile.

In that moment, something shifted. Her smile, her wit, the way she talked about hockey—it all captivated me. She was more than just a talented player; she was someone I wanted to get to know on a deeper level.

As we continued to chat, our conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about everything from our reasons for choosing Michigan to our hobbies and interests outside of hockey. I was genuinely intrigued by her, and I found myself wanting to learn more about the person behind the player.

But as much as I was drawn to Y/N, I knew I had to tread carefully. She was Ethan's sister, and I didn't want to overstep any boundaries or make things awkward within the team. So, I tried to keep our interactions friendly and professional, all while secretly hoping for more.

The more I got to know Y/N, the harder it became to ignore my growing feelings for her. Her intelligence, her passion for the game, and her kind-hearted nature made her irresistibly attractive to me. But I also knew that acting on my feelings could complicate things, and I didn't want to risk our friendship or create any tension within the team.

Despite these internal struggles, I couldn’t deny the connection I felt with Y/N. Each conversation, each laugh, each shared moment only deepened my admiration and affection for her. I found myself looking forward to our joint practices not just for the hockey but also for the chance to spend time with her.

But lately, it's not just her skills on the ice that have caught my attention.

During one of our joint practices, we were waiting for our turn to jump onto the ice for the next drill. Y/N was leaning against the boards, lacing up her skates, completely engrossed in her task. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow on her face and highlighting the golden undertones in her hair.

I couldn’t help but stare.

She looked up, catching my gaze, and flashed me a quick smile before returning her attention to her skates. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly looked away, hoping she hadn’t noticed my lingering gaze.

As we took to the ice for the next drill, I found myself distracted, my thoughts consumed by the simple beauty of that moment. Y/N's natural grace and poise, even in something as mundane as lacing up her skates, left me in awe.

I knew I was treading dangerous waters, but in that moment, I couldn’t help but be captivated by her beauty. She was more than just a talented hockey player; she was a vision of grace and elegance that I found myself drawn to, unable to look away.

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Y/N POV

I found myself watching Mark as he talked with some of our teammates. He was animated, gesturing with his hands and laughing at something someone had said. I was captivated by his energy and charisma, and for a moment, I lost myself in the way the sunlight caught the highlights in his hair and how his eyes sparkled with genuine happiness.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice Ethan approaching until he spoke, "You okay, Y/N? You seem a little distracted."

Startled, I quickly looked away from Mark, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine," I stammered, trying to regain my composure.

Ethan gave me a knowing smile but didn’t press further. "Alright, just making sure," he said, patting me gently on the shoulder before heading back to the group.

Relieved that Ethan hadn’t called me out on my obvious distraction, I took a deep breath and refocused on the practice. But even as I skated back onto the ice, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mark was becoming more than just a teammate to me.

One evening, I found myself at Ethan's apartment, sprawled out on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, ready to watch a movie. Ethan had invited some of his teammates over, including Mark, to hang out and relax after a grueling week of practice and games.

As I settled into the comfortable cushions, Mark walked into the living room, a casual smile on his face. He greeted everyone warmly before taking a seat on the armchair opposite the couch. Our eyes met briefly, and a subtle spark passed between us, but we both quickly looked away, maintaining a friendly distance in front of Ethan and the others.

As the movie started to play, Ethan and Mark began discussing a recent game, dissecting plays and strategies with the kind of intensity only true hockey enthusiasts possess. I found myself drawn into the conversation, sharing my own insights and opinions, and soon, Mark and I were engaged in our own little world of hockey talk, much to Ethan's amusement.

Throughout the evening, I couldn't help but steal glances at Mark, admiring his easygoing demeanor and genuine interest in our conversation. His laughter was infectious, and I found myself laughing along with him, feeling a connection that went beyond our shared love for hockey.

Despite the casual setting and the presence of Ethan and the others, I couldn’t ignore the growing tension between Mark and me. It was as if we were dancing around the undeniable chemistry that had been building between us, both of us aware of the line we were toeing but unwilling to cross it in front of Ethan and our teammates.

As the evening wore on and the movie came to an end, I realized that my feelings for Mark were becoming harder to ignore. He wasn’t just a teammate or Ethan’s friend; he was someone I genuinely cared about, and I found myself looking forward to the next opportunity to spend time with him, both on and off the ice.

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ETHANS POV

As the evening unfolded in my apartment, I couldn't help but notice the subtle undercurrents between Mark and Y/N. From my vantage point on the couch, I could see the way they exchanged glances when they thought no one was looking, the way their laughter seemed to echo in sync, and the way they both seemed completely engrossed in their own world, despite the presence of our teammates.

At first, I brushed it off as mere camaraderie—after all, they were both passionate about hockey and had been spending a lot of time together at practices. But as the evening wore on, I began to sense something more—a genuine connection that went beyond friendship.

I glanced over at Y/N, who was laughing at something Mark had said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Then I looked at Mark, who was smiling back at her, his eyes softening in a way I had never seen before. It was clear that there was something special between them, something that went beyond the confines of the rink and our hockey team.

As Y/N and Mark continued to talk and laugh together, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of surprise and curiosity. Mark was my teammate and one of my closest friends, and Y/N was my twin sister. The thought of them being more than just friends was unexpected, but the more I observed their interactions, the more it made sense.

Despite my initial reservations, I couldn’t deny the connection between them. They seemed to complement each other in a way that was both surprising and endearing. And as much as it caught me off guard, I found myself rooting for them, hoping that they would find happiness together, both on and off the ice.

As the evening came to an end and everyone started to say their goodbyes, I pulled Mark aside for a moment.

"Hey, man, are you and Y/N...you know, getting close?" I asked cautiously, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

Mark looked slightly taken aback but then smiled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Yeah, I think we are," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

I smiled back, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "Well, as long as you're both happy, that's all that matters," I replied,

"Are you serious? I was so scared to tell you that I think I'm falling for her." Mark said.

I looked at Mark, surprised by his honesty and vulnerability. His eyes were sincere, and I could see the genuine concern in them.

"Mark, I had no idea you felt that way," I said, feeling a pang of guilt for not noticing his hesitation earlier. "I'm sorry for putting you on the spot like that."

Mark chuckled softly, his smile returning but with a slightly nervous edge. "It's okay, Ethan. I guess I've just been overthinking things. I really care about Y/N, and I didn't want to mess things up, especially since we're teammates and she's your sister."

I clapped Mark on the shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. "Look, as surprising as it is, I'm actually really happy for you two. Y/N deserves someone who genuinely cares about her, and I can see that you do. Just promise me you'll treat her right, okay?"

Mark nodded earnestly, his eyes shining with gratitude. "I promise, Ethan. She means a lot to me, and I want to do right by her."

Feeling reassured, I smiled at Mark, grateful for his honesty and commitment to Y/N. "Alright then, I trust you. Just remember, if you ever hurt her, you'll have to answer to me," I added with a playful smirk.

Mark laughed, his tension finally breaking. "Understood, Captain."

As we rejoined the others to say our final goodbyes, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and excitement. Despite the unexpected turn of events, I was genuinely happy for Y/N and Mark. They had found something special in each other, and as their friend and brother, I couldn't wait to see where their relationship would lead.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Y/N POV

As we approached my apartment building, the atmosphere between Mark and me had shifted subtly. There was a sense of anticipation, a tangible connection that seemed to be growing stronger with each step we took. When we reached the entrance, Mark stopped and turned to face me, his blue eyes reflecting a mix of excitement and vulnerability.

"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice slightly shaky but sincere. "Earlier, when Ethan asked me if we were getting close, I told him that I think I'm falling for you."

I felt my heart leap in my chest, a rush of emotions surging through me. His confession was unexpected but also exhilarating, confirming the feelings I had been trying to suppress.

"Mark," I started, searching for the right words to express the whirlwind of emotions I was feeling. "I'm not sure how to say this, but... I think I'm falling for you too."

The moment the words left my lips, a wide smile spread across Mark's face, his eyes lighting up with joy and relief.

"Really?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine happiness.

I nodded, feeling a warm blush spread across my cheeks. "Yes, really. I've been trying to ignore my feelings, but the truth is, I've been falling for you too, Mark."

A look of pure happiness washed over Mark's face, and without hesitation, he stepped closer, cupping my face gently with his hands. "Y/N, I'm so glad to hear that," he whispered, his eyes locked onto mine.

Feeling emboldened by our mutual confession, I leaned in, closing the distance between us, and our lips met in a soft, sweet kiss. It was a simple yet powerful affirmation of the connection we had both been feeling but had been too afraid to acknowledge until now.

As we pulled apart, our faces flushed and smiles wide, Mark looked into my eyes, his gaze filled with warmth and affection.

"Do you wanna come in?" I asked, my voice soft and inviting, the words coming out almost on their own accord, as if guided by the newfound courage and excitement that bubbled within me.

Mark's eyes sparkled with anticipation, but he hesitated for a moment, wanting to be respectful of the situation and our budding relationship.

"Are you sure?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and caution.

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yes, I'm sure," I replied, feeling a surge of boldness.

A broad smile spread across Mark's face, his eyes shining with happiness and relief. "I'd love to," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth and excitement.

Taking my hand in his, Mark followed me into the building, our fingers intertwined as we headed up to my apartment.

#mark estapa #mark estapa imagine #mark estapa x reader #umich wolverines #umich hockey #umich boys

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bangfantanfic · 4 months

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Our Own World: Chapter 12.

Warnings: Possible mentions of stalkingand yandere behaviour.

tags; @miss-jupiter @imagine-forlife @blaaiissee @millenniumspec @toughbook @darkuni63 @badbyeyoongi @iloverubberduckiez-blog @missseoulite @singukieee @potterbrooke @suhappysuho @doublebunv @sevenpersona @blancflms @childfmoonn @caffeineandreveries @cryingpages @gato-dumbo @xicanacorpse @devilzliaison

A/N; I am alive! Thank you all for being so patient, life has been life-ing and I cannot say it's been enjoyable lmao. I hope this update is okay, please let know! I am also currently going through Our Own World and my other works editing everything! So there may be some changes, so please bare with me while everything is a bit messy. If you would like to be removed or added to my taglists please let me know <3

Being holed up in Jimin’s room had surprisingly been a nice refresher. The only person coming and going from the room had been Jimin, taking clothes to his roommates, bringing fresh clothing to you, and meals whenever they were ready. He spent nearly every second glued by your side, chatting away like he had known you his entire life. He had millions of questions, wanting to know every intimate detail about the life you lived before finding yourself stuck here, although he worded it much nicer.

In turn, you asked Jimin a million and one questions. You asked about his life, what it was like living with your brother, did he have hobbies, and of course, questions regarding life as a hybrid. You hadn’t ever spent much time around normal animals despite the never-ending line of pets your parents bought home, and so obviously hybrids were a whole new ballgame. Jimin had been thrilled by your interest, answering every question in length and always making sure you understood everything. The hybrid had shown you so much patience and care, more than you had expected or ever even experienced before. It had been a shock and left you feeling embarrassed and ashamed of the way you had behaved around them all.

Growing up, despite your parents' interest in hybrids, they never got any. Nobody you knew had hybrids— well obviously other than your brother but his ownership over them had been a surprise! You had very little knowledge of them, only what you had learned through the media, which even you should have known wasn’t the most reliable source at times. All your information, the knowledge you thought you had? Useless. You may as well have watched Fox News all your life. Thankfully, Jimin didn’t seem to mind your lack of knowledge, in fact, he seemed thrilled to share everything he could with you. The two of you had started to form a surprising bond.

For the first time in almost a week, you woke up alone. It had left you feeling strangely disappointed. The first night you had spent in Jimin’s shared bedroom, he had insisted you sleep in his bed, and you both had bickered for a ridiculous amount of time until you caved in. By the second day, he had rejoined you in his bed, being careful to keep his distance. It was sweet. By day four you were waking up to Jimin curled up around your body, his nose buried into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. Strangely enough, you weren’t bothered by the skinship. Your skin didn’t crawl at his touch, even the gentle brushes of his tail on your calf. It was almost comforting. Jimin had picked up on the change in attitude toward touch, slowly amping up his skinship.

But it was strange to wake up to the disturbed routine you had so briefly experienced. Usually, you woke up before Jimin, the fox hybrid stayed up later than you and slept in longer. Today was different. Deciding to shrug it off, you rolled across the bed blindly reaching for your phone on the bedside table. The blinding white light from your screen caused the device to slip from your hands for a moment before you recovered from temporary blindness. Speedily scrolling through the notifications on your lock screen, your thumb froze upon noticing a familiar name.

HY- U free today? Was thinking about going on a walk… u interested?

Staring at the words, rereading, and then reading one more time, you threw the blanket off your body, throwing yourself upward. You still texted the man from the grocery store, Hanyoon, nearly every day, unfortunately, you hadn't run into him again since your first meeting. Covid’s lockdown rules had thankfully finally started to ease up. Whilst masks and international travel still hadn’t gone back to normal, you were allowed to roam the streets again... Exercising for a few hours outside of the house in the neighborhood you lived in was encouraged. Getting out of the house was just what you needed, even if it was with a man you had only met once. Keeping yourself cooped up like this was crazy, of course, it was. Jay wasn’t able to return anytime soon, and just because Hoseok and Jeongguk had scared the shit out of you, it didn’t mean you should close yourself off to the others who hadn’t done anything wrong. A day out was exactly what you needed to clear your head.

Y/N- sounds great! Whenever you're ready :))

Dropping your phone back onto the mattress, you stumbled out of the bed, ankle snagged in one of many blankets that Jimin kept all over the bed. You made a quick mental note to fix his bedding when you got back. Digging through the pile of your dirty clothes that had been shoved behind the door, you found a decent enough outfit. Sure, you could go to your bedroom but the fewer stops the better. If you could avoid alerting the whole house of your departure that would be ideal.

You were thankful for the one sink in the ensuite that still worked, getting to quick work brushing your teeth. Unfortunately, your hair was disgustingly greasy, but with no time to shower you would just have to steal some of Jimin’s dry shampoo and pray it could fix the cesspool on top of your head. Not bothering with makeup, knowing your unfit ass would sweat it all off, you were quick to ditch your glasses in favor of contacts. Deeming yourself presentable for the public, you quickly grabbed your phone from Jimin’s mattress. Hayoon’s contact alerted you to his arrival at the park nearby.

To your complete surprise, you managed to make it out of the house without a single soul making an appearance. If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed the house was empty. Knowing better than to test your luck, you had been quick to slip into your sneakers by the door, taking off down the driveway. Despite enjoying Jimin’s companionship the past week, you craved normal human interaction. Jimin was a sweetheart, but there was something that lingered under that sweetness that often left you feeling uneasy. It could just be you overthinking, subconsciously comparing him to his two packmates that had spooked you, but you weren’t going to completely ignore your gut. You had learned to be better than that.

“Y/n!”

A grin pulled at your lips as you locked eyes with Hayoon, your legs picking up pace to meet him faster. Hayoon looked good, dressed in loose black shorts and a baggy white tee. His hair which had been completely buzzed off the first, and last, time you saw him had started to regrow. Thick dark hair had started to flower across his head, making you wonder what kind of style his hair had been before it had been shaved off.

“Hayoon, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting?” You asked sheepishly, keeping a little space between your bodies.

He waved you off, smiling down at you. You forgot how tall he was, definitely an inch or so taller than Namjoon. You weren’t short, in fact, you were considered tall for a woman in your country, but Hajoon made you feel tiny, something you couldn't say happens often.

“Nah, I haven’t been here long.�� He assured you, gently bumping into your shoulder as he started to walk along the dusty path. The crunch under his shoes finally jolted your legs into gear after what seemed to be a moment of short-circuiting when the skin of his arm brushed against yours.

The sun felt amazing on your skin, something you never thought you could say. Even the gentle breeze didn’t bother you. It was still early, the only other people in the park being an elderly couple walking with their arms linked up ahead. Despite how warm it already was, the couple were dressed in thick coats as if braving the city's harsh winter. Watching the way they interacted so freely with one another warmed your heart, they seemed so in love. Growing old didn’t seem as scary if you did it with someone you loved.

Hayoon must’ve been watching the same scene as you, a soft smile on his lips as he admired the affectionate couple ahead. A comfortable silence had settled over the two of you rather quickly, and you were grateful. Something you liked about Hayoon was how easy it was with him. There were no forced conversations, no bitterness over slow responses. There were many similarities between the two of you, making it almost effortless to keep any conversation going. Any differences were discussed, debated, and settled. Those differences weren’t drastic, nothing that could end the bond that slowly was forming.

A sound of disgust broke your thoughts, Hayoon’s eyes were still looking toward the elderly couple, only now a third person had appeared. A short woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties had been walking in front of them and now separated off to the left with her arm linked with the elderly woman, the two admiring a shrub of flowers. The short woman had pretty honey-colored hair with ears of the same color poking out– a hybrid.

Hayoon looked down at you, an apologetic look on his face. His tanned cheeks had a cute pink flush to them. “Sorry– I didn’t mean to.” He stumbled over his words, his cheeks going brighter in embarrassment.

“Not a fan?” You laughed, glancing back toward the elderly woman and her hybrid.

Hajoon snorted, shaking his head. He kept quiet as you approached the trio, waiting until a good distance had been made before he answered your question.

“It’s just.. Weird?” He sighed, his thick brows pulling together. “It’s not natural.”

Humming, you found yourself agreeing. Hybrids were a strange concept, you found it incredibly difficult to understand why anyone would go out of their way to warp genetics in such a way. What was the real reason for creating such a mess of DNA? Only to ban them twenty years later? What was the reason for banning them? They were a hot commodity, every facility selling out within weeks, the waitlists being years long. The money the government had made from their creation had been staggering, and yet twenty years later facilities were shut down and forced to stop producing. The last few generations were sterilized, and the older generations were also encouraged to be as well. The government was trying to completely erase their creations without an explanation. As anyone could imagine, it didn’t go down well with the public. Hybrid trading has become a huge issue over the last few years, with huge rings being found and shut down every few days.

What about Jay’s hybrids? When exactly did he get them, and where from? They were all born before the ban, that much you knew. So maybe he got them legally? Did he follow the government's advice, suggesting (demanding) to have all hybrids sterilized? Jay seemed to want to hide the fact that he owned hybrids, was it because of how many he had? Maybe there was a limit on how many hybrids a person could own that you weren't aware of. Seeing the elderly couple out with their cat hybrid, not a concern in the air, had you confused as to why the seven back home were kept under lock and key. Was it because of their breeds? They were all exotic animals, the laws might apply differently to different breeds. After the ban on hybrids, many laws shifted, and still to this day they are constantly changing, it is difficult to keep up to date.

The topic of hybrids and Hayoon’s opinions on them piqued your interest. You were still clueless on the topic, no matter how much research you did into it you still felt uneducated on it all. Hayoon had been an excellent source of information, leaving you almost speechless on how much he seemed to know about them. If there was one thing you admired about the man, it was how educated he was on all topics. He always made sure to have himself as well informed as possible before making an opinion, he was a pool of knowledge. He never looked down on you for things you didn't know or understand and explained things as many times as you needed. It reminded you of Namjoon.

A knot of anxiety pulled at your stomach. Had they noticed you were gone? Were they upset... Maybe you should have told someone, or at least left a note. You know Namjoon has a shitty old phone that's shared amongst the group, but you never bothered to get the number for it. You hadn’t seen a need for it, the only time you had spent away from any of them was to go get groceries. A part of you also just didn’t want them to have your number, the thought of them being able to contact you in the only time you had alone was distressing. Quickly shrugging off your concerns, you turn your attention back to Hayoon who had thankfully not noticed you spacing out.

They’re fine, they’re grown men, and they can live without you for a few hours.

“She’s gone!”

Namjoon slammed his laptop shut, glaring up at Jimin for bursting into the bedroom he was temporarily residing in until Y/N was ready to go back to her own.

“Have you forgotten how to knock?” He snapped, earning a frustrated hiss from the young fox.

“Are you deaf!” He shot back, tugging at his hair. “Y/N is gone, I can’t find her anywhere!”

Jimin’s panic was already distressing enough, the emotion suffocating the room the longer he stood in the doorway, but the anxiety that flooded his nerves was enough for him to feel bile rising in his throat. Namjoon had heard one less heartbeat when he woke up late this morning, but he had pinned it down to either one of the boys had gone walking at the back of the property, somewhere too far for his hearing to pick up, or Jeongguk was sleeping so deeply that his heart had slowed to almost nothing again– a common occurrence when the snake hybrid had a late night. The possibility of it being your heartbeat missing hadn’t even crossed Namjoon’s mind. You had been locked away in his bedroom for some time now, nobody but Jimin had seen you, and nobody would have suspected you leaving. The smell of your fear still lingered upstairs, Jimin would herd everyone downstairs before you would agree to go use the upstairs bathroom to shower. Going as far as making Jimin stand guard on the door until you were done. When did you lose that anxiety?

Ripping the blanket, Namjoon’s laptop hit the floor as he jumped off the mattress. “Where have you looked?”

“I’ve been through the yard, the kitchen, our bedroom, and all of downstairs. I haven’t checked Jeongguks room, I was on my way–”

Namjoon was speeding down the hallway before the fox could finish his sentence. This was a new kind of fear he had never experienced before, his throat closing up and his eyes burning. His lungs were on fire, struggling to keep up with how quickly he was breathing. At the end of the hall was Taehyung and Jeongguk’s room, the door shut and only the sound of one heartbeat fluttering peacefully. Had you found your way into their room? Maybe you had gotten lost and ended up in the wrong bedroom? These things happen all the time! He’ll open the door and you’ll be curled up in someone's bed, and the crisis will be averted.

With the force that Namjoon pushed open the door, he almost fell flat on his face. Stumbling into the room, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, squinting as he took in two groggy men peeking out from their blankets.

“Hyung, what the fuck?” Jeongguk groaned, his heart going from nearly stopped to racing.

“Well, is she there?” Jimin huffed, shoving past his leader to look for himself. To his great disappointment, the room held no signs of you ever being there. Cursing, Jimin shoved past Namjoon, his usual gratefulness replaced with clumsy heaviness.

“What’s his problem?” Taehyung whined, pulling his blanket over his head to shield himself from the brightness of the hall.

Namjoon, for the first time in his life, couldn’t find words. You’re not here. There are seven heartbeats, not eight. The knot in his stomach tightened, the bile in his stomach rising higher and higher. When did you leave, how long has it been? Your car is still here, you couldn’t have gotten far. How didn’t anyone hear you leave? A house full of hybrids and not a single one heard you get up and out the front door?

Impossible.

“Did you hear anyone leave the house this morning?” He asked as calmly as possible, the shake in his voice far more noticeable than he would have liked. Both grunted out no’s, begging the elder male to close the door.

It was Jeongguk, finally ripping the blanket off his head ready to start a war over the damned door still being open, that noticed Namjoon’s pale sweaty skin. He looked like he was about to projectile vomit. Frowning, the snake hybrid slinked out of bed and heaved his tired body toward his sickly leader. Pressing the back of his cold hand against Namjoon’s forehead, he sighed in relief. He wasn’t running abnormally hot, so it wasn’t a fever or some kind of sickness. Even with his less advanced hearing, he could still hear the erratic beating of his hyung’s heart.

“Joonie, you okay?” He murmured, his hand cupping the back of the man's neck as he tried to get closer to assess him better. “You don’t look so good…”

The concern in Jeongguk’s usually smug tone had Taehyung flying into a sitting position, his hair standing in every possible direction. His puffy eyes zeroed in on his pack leader, his brows pulling together in concern.

“Is he sick?”

Jeongguk shook his head, keeping his eyes on the wolf hybrid. Gently squeezing at the muscle in his neck, the snake hybrid was starting to get antsy. “Hey, come on. Talk to us, we can’t help if you don’t tell us what's wrong.” He cooed, the money hybrid making a sound of agreement from behind.

Namjoon’s tongue pressed against his cheek, his eyes going glassy. He couldn’t get his tongue to work, he couldn’t get himself to say the words his packmates needed to hear. How could he admit to everyone that he had lost you? He could hear Jimin tearing through Jay’s room downstairs, Hoseok and Seokjin hot on his heels trying to calm the younger man down. They didn’t know what was happening either, nobody else had figured it out.

“We can’t find Y/n.”

#btsxreader #bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #yandere bts #bts hybrid #bts!au #bts x reader #bts yandere #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

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naturistgirl · 2 months

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Naked in the Forest

A nemophilist is a word we use to describe someone who loves the company of woods, trees and forests. I do. They are an enormous part of our natural world and I love to walk among them naked. Nude is the best way to commune with nature and the trees. Here you can be at peace. They gaze down on us, but they are not our enemies.

Being naked helps you feel a natural part of their world, for it IS theirs, not ours. Come and walk with me through Lancashire's Hagg Wood and I'll explain how.

Trees outnumber people. There are approximately 8 billion of us and there are an estimated three trillion of them!

Trees are way longer lived than us and the oldest span the millennia. The most ancient tree in the UK has clocked up an estimated 3,000 years. These guys know a thing or too about survival, having been, collectively, around for about 420 million years! You have to respect them as a species.

Even after death, they carry on giving to the community around them. This tree provides food for insect eating birds like woodpeckers and shelter for others.

This fallen giant; a large beech tree, hundreds of years old, has lost limbs but it is actually still very much alive with abundant green leaves.

I feel humbled and small in comparison to gentle giants like these. Being naked feels right. You can no longer pretend that we are a superior species and masters of nature, we aren't. Trees should not be felled to satisfy our greed for more land, fuel or resources.

This is a truly special place to walk naked. Most ancient woodlands are. Maybe you have a wood or forest within easy reach of your home? This one is about 10 minutes from mine.

I hope that you enjoyed this blog focussing on being nude outdoors. the shoot was made a couple of days ago in conjunction with my photographer husband, Mart. Thank you to him for his dedicated camera work and editing. All photos remain his copyright.

You know the drill by now. If you are a naturist or naturally inclined, DO share, re-blog and like this post. If you just prefer 'naked ladies' and are maybe not, as yet a naturist, why not try it? What the heck? You can like the post too if you wish and share if you must. However I will post solo images with captions for those whose literacy is challenged by more than a sentence or two. :-) I don't judge.

Jane xx

#naturist #nude outdoors #clothesfree #nude in nature #girlblogging #normalize nudity #outdoor nudity #hiking #naturismo #woodland walk #nemophilism #nonsexual nudity #naturista #nude outside

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chiliger · 9 months

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*stands with hands on hips, staring at the floor* Look, I know we love to have the Command Batch be close brothers in art and fics. I am a staunch lover of the trope myself.

But what about, like in real life, where the people we grew up with or went to school with, they just fall out of contact. The friends made in high school don't always remain lifelong friends.

Yeah, they can say "we'll call each other and message everyday," or "we should hang out when our leaves overlap." But the war gets in the way of everything, like it tends to do. Slowly but surely the messages in the group chat peter out. There are too many things to do, and duty takes first priority over keeping contact with the people they knew as kids.

It's not for wont of trying, the commanders would still send little messages to each other, but it could be hours, days or weeks before there's a reply because of conflicting zones, lack of signal, or other messages pushing the chat further down the list.

There's also just the fact that the commanders find their people. Meaning, through time and shared experiences with their battalions, other clones click right into place, possibly even deeper than their batchmates. The camaraderie in surviving a massacre with only two of your men surviving is different than the experience of constant dehumanization on Coruscant.

It comes to a point where the Command Batch become, for lack of thinking of a better word, almost strangers to each other. They still keeps tabs on one another, just to make sure they're still alive, but that's pretty much as far as it goes now. Maybe they'll chitchat when their battalions work together, but the mission has to come first, so most of the talking is planning and strategizing. Even when their leaves do overlap, the thought of messaging for a meet-up might feel like a nuisance, because surely your batchmates are exhausted and don't want to be bothered.

So it goes, the commanders may have been close once, but that connection has been stretched and warped by war and time. They still have love for each other and it won't ever be forgotten, because how can anyone forget the people you grew up with. They were the right people they needed back then, but they're no longer the right people now.

#chili rambles #command batch #the clone wars #sleepy middle of the night brain at it again with the sad thoughts #was gonna save it as a draft to continue this later but nope! needed to type it all before i forgot my thought process #*tosses this out into the ether and goes back to fluffy dumb and brotherly love*

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silvernyxchariot · 1 month

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Multiple Characters (separate) x GN!Reader

Characters: Al Haitham, Kaveh, Kaeya

Synopsis: Oki, so it’s more like scenarios rather than a set of headcanons. Reader has been killed but somehow “resurrected” and used as a weapon or human puppet.(1) Kaveh doesn't really have a political rank, so Reader's not so much a weapon or human puppet in his.

⚠️Warning: Reader is dead, angst⚠️ If you saw spelling and grammatical errors, no you didn’t. 😤 It was 3 AM.

Kaeya Alberich (359 words)

“You are our last hope."

Those words echoed in Kaeya’s mind when his sword clashed with yours. The emptiness in your eyes, dry-leathery skin, and stitches all over your face and body horrified him. He could still smell the air of death wafting from your reanimated corpse. When he was dispatched dissolve a group of Abyss Mages, Kaeya didn’t believe that he would come face-to-face with you once again. The Mages that accompanied you cackled in the background.

Your face was no longer the one he remembered, full of sass and mirth at his flirtatious advances. He missed the way your eyes rolled and the little laugh you failed to hide when he hugged you from behind or flirted with you at Angel’s Share, even though you two were already dating. If Kaeya could vomit right now, he would. But first, he had to put you to rest a second time.

Clouds above thundered, covering the pounding of Kaeya’s heart in his chest. It wasn’t fair that he had to lose you again. And this time by his own hands. A heavy downpour drenched both him and your reanimated body.

“Cool it!” He thrust his sword when your body raised its arm to slash down on Kaeya’s shoulder. A frozen flower of ice covered your body’s shoulder. The blast was far too forceful and pushed you back. Your body wobbled over the edge of Starsnatch Cliff and a flint of life flashed in your dead eyes.

Cecilia petals picked up and drifted in the wind, across your drenched face. Kaeya reached out to grab your hand as your reanimated body failed you once again. What powers the Abyss Order used to keep you alive had run out and your body feel back into the sea over the edge. Before Kaeya could even grasp your hand one last time, it dispersed into dust. Before your body completely disappeared, you smiled at him and your sense of self broke through the Abyss Order’s binding on you, “I’m sorry but this will be the last time,” were your body’s final words as it dissolved in the wind.

Maybe in another life you’d give him a sense of hope again.

Kaveh (631 words)

Who would do this?

When news of your grave had been exhumed, Kaveh, your past emergency contact, was the first to be notified.

Was it for some sick ransom? But what good would a dead body do?

He ran to your grave, abandoning all his work, and out the door before Al Haitham could even glance away from his book. Mehrak idlily buzzed to life and tried to keep up with her creator but stopped at the door not knowing where he went. A concerned look displayed in her eyes as she turned to Al Haitham and beeped.

Kaveh wasn’t as important as Cyno the General Mahamahtra or even Al Haitham, who was currently the Acting Grand Sage. So, why did someone try to target his loved one?

When Kaveh arrived at your burial site, he had to shove the Matra away knocking most of them off their feet until Cyno told them that he had permission to pass. His lanky disposition betrayed the physical strength he truly held from his work, but such strength failed him when he collapsed in front of your desecrated grave. Sweat poured down his forehead and the fire lamps in casting shadows everywhere made everything all the eerier. Kaveh’s stomach dropped. There weren’t even drag marks leading away from your grave, but there were footprints littered everywhere.

Cyno placed a hand on Kaveh’s shoulder, also infuriated that an old friend has had their grave violated. “I’ll find out who did this. And why.”

Weeks later, Kaveh was still a bundle of nerves. His latest proposals, over thirty-five drafts, had been declined by his clients. His hair was a tangled mess and his clothes were always thrown on without a care. The lingering images of your empty grave flashed through his mind almost every time he looked at something that reminded him of you. It was as if you died a second time. At that point, Al Haitham had to drag Kaveh out of the house himself, going as far as Port Oromos to go shopping; Al Haitham’s treat, of course.

Everything seemed dull and grey in Kaveh’s vision. The fruits that he normally enjoyed and carefully crafted carpentry that would have given him inspiration to make another draft didn’t have any meaning. He normally would have paused to inspect each one that caught his eye. Even Al Haitham lecturing him through whispers in his ear sounded like buzzing.

“I’ll take five, please.”

It was like the sound of windchimes on a tranquil day.

Kaveh raised his head in the direction of your voice. Crimson eyes scanned the crowd and searched for your frame, a figure that stood out to him every time. He left Al Haitham’s side and pushed through the busy port until he made it to the lighthouse. By then the crowd had dwindled and someone was standing by the edge of the water humming and enjoying a lavender melon from Inazuma.

This person chomped onto the berry with delight and its juices flowed freely down their chin and wrist. Kaveh reached out and grabbed their shoulder and turned them around, startling them.

It was your same features, but just a touch or two here different. What stared back at him was you, but with two different colored eyes and a freshly healed scar around the circumference of your throat. “Excuse you…” you said with a raised eyebrow and a scowl on your lips.

The lack of recognition on your face made a layer of ice over Kaveh’s heart, “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.” It wasn’t as if he couldn’t love again. He wanted your love again. The person that had your face, voice, and even that little habit of tilting your head shoved his hand away and walked off.

Al Haitham (902 words)

“My feet moved on their own,” were the last words Al Haitham heard pass your lips after you took a blade intended for him. Your smiling lips turned pale as blood drained from your abdomen. The crimson fluid of life pooled in his hand as he applied pressure to the wound. He shouldn’t have let you accompany him to pass on the old Sages’ punishment, at worst they would have to live their lives “camping” and farming in some remote corner of Avidya Forest in exile, but then again, he didn’t believe any of them would have any followers that would be so reckless as to be violent.

It had been weeks since the Traveler had defeated Shouki no Kami, the old Sages had been replaced, and Al Haitham was still picking up the pieces of their mess. He scoffed.

Al Haitham snapped his book shut, unable to focus on it. “Ridiculous,” and the calm waters of Yazadaha Pool didn’t help when memories of your dying body were running through his mind. “I can handle myself.” He decided to go back to your grave, buried underneath of a cool, shady tree, an area with a nice breeze overlooking the ocean at Port Oromos. Just like you asked.

Reading to your grave seemed to calm him down during these moments. And on particularly lazy days he would nap there, as if he would wake up from a bad dream, and you would be staring back at him.

But when he got there, Al Haitham couldn’t help but be beyond horrified, eyes wide, the only indication of emotion he had. The tint of orange of his inner irises flared up and it seemed like his eyes flashed red with rage. Instead of reporting directly to the Matra, Al Haitham studied the surrounding area. Footprints, broken branches, and remains of your ripped clothing created a trail. Whoever took you, clearly didn’t think this through.

It didn’t take long for the Acting Grand Sage to find out how had taken your body and where. Their hideout was a little cave at the edge of the Ashavan Realm and Land of the Lower Setekh. They barely even covered the entrance. He snuck in, slipping through tunnels and listening to the voices of those who possibly took you, trying to find them. And he succeeded. It was a laboratory of stolen equipment and a small group of fanatics, students from the Akademiya, that took you from your resting place. Fanatics, who hung up tapestries of symbols for Shouki no Kami surrounded your body. Upon closer inspection, your body, ashy and grey with death, lay on a table where the graverobbers connected multiple tubes and wire to you.

If people Sumeru thought Al Haitham was a “lunatic” simply for doing whatever he please, within reason of course, things were going to be blown out of proportion today.

Al Haitham slid past each of them and tampered with the equipment, overriding their heat regulation systems and clogging the gears he could reach. He perched himself on the ledge closest to the operating table, ““Tampering with life and death,”” he quoted, ““Revering gods without acts of devotion,” even if your god only existed for a few minutes, your attempts at,” he raised an eyebrow, “worship are abysmal.” Although he said those words to the graverobbers, he stared at what appeared to be your dull eyes staring back up at him.

Your naked corpse, shakily and clumsily, removed the wires and IV tubes from your veins. The graverobbers, the ones that sympathized with the former Sages and Shouki no Kami, raved and celebrated. Their clapping disappeared into white noise while he focused on your body moving so unnaturally. Al Haitham rubbed his head and grumbled.

He slipped down from the ledge, spinning and elbowing the graverobbers in the jaw, effectively knocking them out, to get to you. Your body held a scalpel as it wobbled towards him. How these students could reanimate a corpse was beyond reason or even ethical practice in Sumeru. If he listened closely, the equipment around him started humming and whirring louder, more labored until finally each machine he tampered with detonated and exploded the equipment next to it. The force of each explosion ruffled your hair and swayed your movements.

The graverobbers panicked and ran for the exits, leaving behind their comrades who got caught under debris as the cave started to fall apart.

Al Haitham walked to your body and grabbed your wrists. He shook your hands until they released the scalpel. Your mouth moved as if you wanted to say something, but he looked down at you with waterlines about to flood with tears, the ones he never let himself express at your funeral.

“I’m sorry for letting them wake you, .” Al Haitham took his blade and jabbed it up into your body’s abdomen, through your stomach and out your back. As your body turned limp in his arms again, he picked you up and walked steadily out of the caves as not to jostle you more. The crumbling cave and explosions were blocked out, not only by his soundproof headphones but the focus he had on your slumbering face. “I’ll have to report this to the Matra later,” he whispered to you, “Heh, I hope Cyno won’t mind the explosions.” Although, those words would never reach you.

“I’ll make sure to bury you in one of your favorite outfits again.”

A/N: I was going to add Diluc too, but I got lazy.

“Brevity is the soul of the wit.” I try to be blunt and express myself with precision, but I clearly didn’t do that with Al Haitham’s scenario, while Kaeya’s was a measly ~350 words. 😔

(1) Inspired by Naruto/Naruto Shippudden, the 4th Great Ninja War arc when Sai witnessed his adoptive brother be used as a weapon and got blown up in front of him. Now that I think about it, maybe Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein too.

#genshin impact #Kaveh #kaeya alberich #kaeya #al haitham #alhaitham #kaeya x reader #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #reader x genshin #genshin fanfic #kinda drabbles kinda not #fan fiction

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babymetaldoll · 29 days

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Are you mine? - Chapter 1: I'm a puppet on a string

A/N: Ok guys, here we go! Thank you all for your love and support, and most of all, for waiting for this last book. Summary: We are starting on season 15 for a little sneak peak of our lovebirds getting ready for their last day at the BAU. Spencer and his cherie have been married for some time now, and things are going great, until they don't, as they usually do. Let's join for a big flashback and understand all that happened from season 9 to season 15 that lead them to their last day at the BAU. Word count: 7.680 words. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, fluff, angst, confusion and babies.

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Next chapter

Spencer's point of view

Thomas Merton once wrote, "Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone. We find it with another."

Life has never been this good, not like this. I know I haven't slept well in over seven years, due to the constant demands of parenthood, but I don't mind. In fact, I think I love it. I was not a good sleeper before becoming a dad if we are sincere. But waking up ten times every night to change diapers, check for monsters under the bed, or scoot over and allow my kids to sleep next to me, kicking my ribs for the entire night has never been a problem. Because they are my babies, and I would do anything for my kids.

I no longer have every night during the week to bury my head in hundreds of books. I haven't read more than a few every week since Raven was born, seven years ago. Now, my evenings are filled with baby rambles and kids' voices as we play games and read bedtime stories.

My kids. I never thought I could ever say those words. And now look at me, father of three healthy, bright, and beautiful kids. Not even in my wildest dreams I ever imagined being alive could be so fulfilling. Now I have an honest reason to be a better person every day. My babies. My wife. My family. They are my whole life.

I have everything I ever dreamt of: me and (Y/N) have been married for almost nine years. Nine years of waking up next to her, good morning kisses, and cuddles. I still find it hard to believe that she is my wife. The love of my life. The woman I would die for. Just ask me and I will give up everything for her safety and happiness. Yes, as cheesy as it sounds. And with our career choice, a decision that we've had to make more times than we imagined.

Our eldest daughter, Raven Marie, turned seven this year. She is bright and cheerful. She is just like her mother: a natural leader and the light of my day. Vincent is four years old, and he was born an artist. He loves painting and drawing, especially on the walls when no one is watching. We enjoy our trips to the museum together, even more if we get ice cream afterward. And baby Matilda is just three months old. I love holding her in my arms as she sleeps safe and sound. It makes the whole world stop. And the way her big brown eyes stare at me, I swear she can understand every word I say. The three of them make me feel loved in a way I never even imagined.

We live in a beautiful house just outside town, which is perfect for raising our family. It has a large backyard where our kids can play. It even has a tree, so I plan to build a treehouse next summer, probably with Mikey's and Frank's help.

This is everything I always dreamed of and never thought I could have. That is why (Y/N) and I decided we would never let anything jeopardize what we have accomplished. There is nothing more important to us than our babies.

That is why it's time to leave the BAU for good.

Today is our last day as Supervisory Special Agents with the FBI. And though I always thought if this day ever came, I would be devastated, I'm looking forward to this new stage in our lives. As long as we have each other, everything is going to be ok.

I roll in bed and stare at my darling wife asleep beside me. I take in all her features, nose, and closed eyes fluttering occasionally. There are a few gray hairs already showing, stressing her out. I find them sexy if you ask me. We are already 39 years old, I have a few gray hairs myself. My wife's skin looks so soft, so tempting. I wanna mark her mine again, leaving sweet bruises from her neck to her breasts, which are almost exposed underneath her pajamas. The hickies I did last week are barely visible anymore.

But before I get into action to wake (Y/N) with hot kisses all over her body, sweet blabbing sounds coming from the small crib next to our bed catch my attention. Our baby girl is already awake. It's still too early for Matilda to open her eyes, so I roll in bed and hold my baby daughter, rocking her in my arms as we walk around the room.

- "Good morning, Jelly Bean."- I whisper and kiss her forehead- "Thank you for almost letting us sleep through the night last night. Your mom and I have a decisive day today."- Tilly stares at me with her big chocolate eyes and smiles as her tiny finger holds mine tight.

- "Yes baby. Today is your parent's last day working at the BAU, after over fifteen years of service for your mom and seventeen for me."

The words should shock me, or maybe even cause angst or pain. But nothing could be farther from the truth. I'm excited to become a full-time professor at Georgetown, come home every night, and spend time with my kids. No more travels unless they are on vacation, no more chasing psychopaths. I'm ready to leave that life behind me and take care of my loved ones daily.

I walk around the house, enjoying how it's still silent. Holding Tilly close against my chest, I open Vincent's door and watch him sleeping on his little bed. I walk over and cover him with his blanket, knowing in about forty minutes he will be running downstairs, demanding breakfast. Today is hotcakes Friday, I could start the batter and get the coffee ready after I put an eye on the kids.

I head to Raven's room and find her awake. She is sitting on her bed, holding her teddy bear hidden behind Moby Dick.

- "Birdie, what are you doing awake? it's six in the morning"- I whisper as I walk over to her and she widens her eyes, clearly busted.

- "Sorry dadda. I just woke up. I swear."

- "What happens when we don't get enough REM sleep?"- I ask her as I sit by her side, and take her book from her tiny hands.

- "It interferes with memory formation, altering my learning process."

- "Very good. So if you know why you must have nine hours of sleep, why are you awake so early?"- my older daughter giggles and hides underneath her blanket for a moment. I wait for her to show me her face one more time as she whispers.

- "I wanted to know what happened to the giant whale."

- "But this is our bedtime story, Raven. We have to read it together every night."- I try to look serious, but frankly, I feel so proud. I love being able to share my passion for reading with my daughter. Raven fixes her pillow underneath her head and covers herself with her purple blanket.

- "But I'm no longer sleepy, dadda."

- "Just close your eyes for a bit, Birdie. Try to rest and I'll make breakfast. I'll call you when the food is ready, ok?"

- "Can we read two chapters tonight, dadda? Please?"- she looks at me with pleading eyes as I place the book back on her bedside table.

- "Only if you get some more sleep now, ok?"

- "Fine... good night dadda... or is it good morning already?"- I chuckle and kiss her forehead.

- "If you are going to sleep, we still say good night, birdy."

Sometimes I'm sure I'll wake up alone at my old apartment, all this would have been a dream. I never imagined I would love something or someone more than I loved my work. The FBI was my life for so long. But this, my babies, my wife sleeping safe and sound in our house, that means more than anything I could ever achieve at the bureau.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I wake up in bed and immediately feel the cold, empty space beside me, and I don't like it. I'm used to waking up with the warmth of Spencer's arms around me or any of my kids hovering over the covers or sleeping on me. But not today. Today, I am alone on this gigantic bed, and neither my children nor my husband are in sight.

The sweet sound of my kids' laughter somewhere in the house and the smell of hotcakes catches my attention in a second. I could get used to waking up like this. No text warning me that we have to catch a serial killer. No one is trying to hurt my family. No psycho plotting to ruin our lives. Just us in our house, living our sweet dreams.

The last couple of years have been rough, to call it somewhat. Everything we ever tried to avoid from working at the BAU hit us. For a moment it felt like everything that could go wrong, did. And when I say "everything", I mean it. But I don't wanna think of those dark times, I don't wanna start this last day with sorrow. I wanna start it with coffee, hotcakes, and sweet kisses from my babies.

- "Something smells extra good in here!"- I walk into the kitchen and find Spencer flipping hotcakes in a pan, as Raven and Vincent are sitting at the table, eating already and chatting nonstop. My husband smiles as I walk to him and kiss his lips sweetly.

- "How are you today Tilly?"- I whisper as I stare at her, she is asleep against Spencer's chest, in a baby wrap we got when Raven was born, and that my husband loves beyond life itself. Try to take it from him, it's impossible. He loves carrying our kids around in that thing. And when they are too old to fit in, he just carries them on his shoulders or arms all over.

- "One day they will be too big or too embarrassed to be seen like that with me"- he explained to someone, probably some of my aunts or cousins, who argued he was spoiling them rotten. - "And I wanna enjoy every chance I get before we reach that point in life."

Now, if you ask me, I don't think our kids will ever get tired of their dad. They love him too much.

- "Mama! dadda made chocolate chip hotcakes!"- Vinny is clearly running on sugar right now- "They are tasty!"

- "I'm sure they are! They smell delicious!"- I grab a cup and fill it with freshly made coffee- "Can I get you more coffee, hon?"

- "Yes, please ma cheriè."- I pour two cups and add sugar to my husband's as he prepares a dish with hotcakes and scrambled eggs for me and one for him as well.

- "Someone went an extra mile with this breakfast today. Thank you hon"- I kiss him again and take both dishes.

- "It's a special day. You deserve the best breakfast."

- "Well, I'm gonna cook you the best dinner then" - I wink at him and look at our kids- "Are you ready for school, Birdie?"

- "Yeah. I'm excited because in math we are starting to do multiplications! Finally!"- our daughter is honestly happy about math, which I know she didn't get from me.

- "Multiplications? Why were you looking forward to that?"- Spencer asks her, as I help Vinny cut his hotcakes.

- "Because Uncle Frank said we are good at multiplication in this family, so I wanna learn all about it."

I keep my poker face and nod at my oldest daughter, trying to pinpoint any kind of scenario where Frank might have said that to her. Spencer stares at me with wide-open eyes as he clears his throat and sips his coffee.

- "Yeah, math is really fun!"- that's all I can say- "Which is your favorite subject, Vinny?"

- "Art"- I am not shocked.

- "Are you planning on making a new drawing for my desk?"- Spencer asks our son, who takes a few seconds to reply and gives him an honest answer.

- "No, Aunty Lu asked me to do one for her fridge, because her baby can't draw anything yet."- I smile and nod.

- "We should work on that drawing this weekend then."- I say to my boy and kiss the top of his head. I love that my kids know Lu, Frank, and Mikey are also family.

Lu got married a few years ago and last month she had her first baby. I haven't seen her in a few weeks because things have been crazy for both of us, but we text daily. A lot has changed, but our friendship remains the same. Mikey got married as well, to a girl he met at work. They have been together for five years and have a baby girl. I have never seen him this happy before, and it fills my heart with joy to know he is living the life he always dreamed of.

Meanwhile, Frank is still single. Not shocking news, I know. He has a steady girlfriend though, and they are very happy. He and Tarah have been together since Spencer and I got married, and they have the cutest dogs and cats I've ever seen.

- "Ok kids, let's get ready for school."- I put the dishes in the sink and watch our kids run upstairs. Spencer smiles as he finishes his last sip of coffee and I walk to him to take Tilly in my arms.

- "I'm gonna get this little lady ready to spend the day with Nana Sofia so you can take a quick shower, ok?"

- "Thank you, ma cherie."

- "No, thank you for breakfast, Daddy."- I whisper and kiss his coffee-tasting lips as he stares at me, raising an eyebrow subtly. I am teasing him, and I know it. But I can't help it. I love it when he stares at me with those hungry eyes.

- "We have some extra time, in case you wanna join me in the shower."- Spencer whispers and stands in front of me, wrapping his arms around mine, and moving his hands up and down my back, underneath my pajamas.

- "Mom!!"- Raven yells from upstairs- "Vinny got back into his bed and said he won't go to school today!"

- "Hold that thought until tonight."- I sigh and peck his lips- "Take that shower while I get the kids ready."

- "Fine, but you owe me, Mrs. Reid."- I chuckle at his words and shake my head, walking out of the kitchen with our baby secure in my arms.

- "Dr. Reid, I'm keeping count, and as far as I remember, you owe me, big time."

Spencer's point of view

As I drive to our last day at work after dropping the kids at school and Tilly with (Y/N)'s mom, I start to do the math of how many times I've driven us to work in the last few years. Plus all the times I took the subway to get there, before we got married. I know during all those times I never imagined how the last time would feel like. I never even imagined this day would ever come until Raven was born. Ever since I knew she was coming, I seriously considered dropping the life I knew to do anything else. Something that didn't include putting my and my wife's life in danger daily.

After we got married, (Y/N) and I spent a few years trying to catch up with all the time we wasted not confessing our feelings. There wasn't much left to know about each other that we didn't deal with being friends, but being a couple was a completely different thing. Our job came with certain unconventional situations, to call it somewhat. Like the day I realized how badly I wanted to be a dad, after delivering a baby in front of an unsub.

It happened almost eight years ago, not long before we discovered we were going to become parents for the first time. I remember I was out for a drink with Rossi, who had taken very seriously his job to help me transition from a single man with no clue about dates, to a man married to the woman of his dreams.

That night he took me to one of his favorite bars, which apparently had seen better days. It was old, dirty, and mostly empty, except for a very old guy singing karaoke at the back of the room, and some regulars.

- "That's where I saw Carolyn for the first time."- Dave pointed at a table in a corner, where a guy seemed to have passed out. I widened my eyes and looked at him, not impressed.

- "No offense, Rossi, but this place is kind of a dump."- of course, he was offended.

- "Oh, back then it wasn't."- he argued and tried to sell me the place - "Back then, the biggest names would come here: Creedence, The Eagles, Chicago. It was a Marine bar. They played for us jarheads."

- "What was Carolyn doing here?"- I asked, trying to focus on the story and not on the number of bacteria in every glass in that bar.

- "Waiting for Ringo."- Rossie replied as I stared at him surprised. - "Beatlemania was no joke. I mean, it would make the women crazy. She'd write them a letter once a week, begging the band to come visit."

I smiled thinking that sounded like something (Y/N) might have done as well, though instead of writing letters, she would tweet her favorite band and spam them with messages begging for a show in town.

- "Did they ever come?"- I asked and Rossi nodded, with a smile.

- "Ringo did, after his divorce. But luckily, Carolyn met me first. But that's how we all became friends."- I was about to add something when the waitress arrived with our second round.

- "Devil honey for Dave and a light beer for the kid."- I smiled at her and whispered a shy thank you as she left the bottle in front of me. I was about to sip it when the sound of a text message coming from David's phone reminded me duty ruined most of our fun times.

- "Oh, on second thought, Helen... it's Garcia."- Rossi announced and looked at me.

- "So much for a night off."- I sighed and left the bottle back on the table, untouched.

- "You better bring us the bill."

- "Ok. That'll be 10 bucks."- the waitress replied quickly, and I moved to grab my wallet, but David stopped me.

- "No, you can charge us for the drinks we didn't have. Drinks are on me, kid."

- "Everything's marked down until it's all gone."- the waitress announced and showed us a banner announcing Rossi's favorite place was closing in a few days.

- "Oh, you can't close! This place is history!"- he argued immediately, shocked by the news.

- "Unfortunately, Dave, history doesn't pay the bills."- Helen, the waitress, replied and shook her head as Rossi sighed, defeated.

- "Marines used to be big business!"- he said and looked at me, I don't know if waiting for words of support or just trying to convince me.

- "Still are. That's why three new bars opened up across the street."- Helen explained and then asked- "What's that thing they say about competition?"

- "It breeds success?"- I told her, but she cut me off.

- "It sucks."

- "Well..."- Rossi stood up and I followed, grabbing my jacket- "Keep the change."

- "Thank you, Dave."- Helen smiled and looked at him for a few seconds, giving him a knowing look, and then walked away.

- "I hate to see this place go."- Rossi said to me as he stood there, staring around him at all the memories he had in that place. I tapped on his shoulder and walked out of the bar.

- "We could come back again after we solve this case."- I suggested, trying to cheer him up. - "Bring the rest of the team, enjoy one last drink here. I'm sure (Y/N) and García would love to hear all the stories this place has."

When we reached the BAU that night, (Y/N) was already there with Blake, García, and Hotch. I walked toward my wife and held her hand.

- "Ma cherié, did you get to enjoy your evening at home?"- I whispered and she sighed.

- "I prepared the perfect bathtub, got myself a glass of wine, and I had a brand new book to enjoy. And it all went to waste."- she pouted and I ran my thumb down her cheek a few times, caressing her soft skin.

- "I'm sorry, chipmunk."- the rest of the team joined us in the briefing room, which forced us to be professional and move from each other a little bit- "We could take a bath together after we solve this case."

- "That sounds so nice." - (Y/N) sighed and smiled at me. - "How was your night out with Rossi?"- she asked as we sat around the table in the briefing room.

- "We had fun, we have to go to the bar he took me"

- "Was it good?"

- "No, actually it was old and dirty, but it's his favorite and it's closing."- she chuckled as Rossi turned to me, from the other side of the table, looking absolutely offended.

- "It's a very respectable place! You are lucky you visited it!"

- "That's why I'm telling my wife we should go!"- I replied, doing my best not to laugh. I knew he was affected by the closing news.

- "And we will, you don't have to tell me twice."- (Y/N) said quickly- "If there is booze and Rossi approves, I'm dying to go."

That case was in Boston, a psychotic was on the loose and had already killed three men and stolen their wallets. Though nothing tied the victims together, our guy was on a mission, and it was more likely to strike again before we got there.

We were already in the jet, going through the briefs and trying to find anything that could lead us to find this guy quickly.

- "We need to determine where he's finding his victims."- Hotch said, and I locked eyes with my wife, who was sitting next to me.

- "Geographically speaking, none of the victims live near one another, but they were all killed downtown, which is where the unsub likes to operate."- I said as she nodded, but before (Y/N) could say something, Blake commented.

- "That fits with where Maxford works, but not with the other two victims."

- "His area of control, while relatively small, includes a number of residential and commercial buildings."- I started rambling out loud.

- "Can you do the math that might help us?"- my wife suggested.

- "Well, factoring in a 3-mile radius in a city with a population of 636, 479 over 48.28 miles, we're looking at approximately 39,549.23 people living in his comfort zone."- I blurted out and (Y/N) kept staring at me with a sweet smile, as the rest of the team looked at each other like I was a freak.

- "How many of them are male?"- Morgan asked me and I replied in a blink.

- "18.944,08."

- "Garcia, start with the victim's known associates."- Hotch commanded as I felt (Y/N)'s hand on mine, intertwining our fingers.

- "Your brain is so fucking hot"- my wife whispered and I chuckled, embarrassed- "I love hearing you do math on anything."

- "Never let her go, kid"- Rossi overheard her words and smiled at us. I guess so did JJ, 'cos she looked at us with a funny stare in her eyes before standing up and walking to the kitchen to get herself a cup of tea.

Our guy was Tanner Johnson, and he was in fact, on a mission. He wanted to gain his ex-wife's trust back again to prove to her that he could take care of her and her new baby after their 10-year-old Jeremy had died. He wanted to be a good father, and in a way to protect everybody who lived under his roof, he started killing people who he thought were a bad influence for them and even kept a scrapbook, filled with proof of his murders.

I remember being in a van with Morgan, on our way to Mrs. Johnson's house, where she was being kept against her will by our unsub. (Y/N) was with JJ and Blake in another van, as Rossi and Hotch stayed back at the station, watching the surveillance cameras Tanner kept, still streaming everything that was happening in his old family home.

We just made it in time before Mrs. Johnson had the baby, and I was glad for once I had memorized all of the delivery manuals I had come across when JJ was pregnant, just in case she went into labor on the field.

- "Hannah, how far apart are your contractions?"- I put my gun down as I stood in front of Mrs. Johnson and Tanner, who had a knife against her throat. Morgan kept pointing at him, but I knew he didn't have a clean shot.

- "They're constant!"- the poor woman in labor screamed in pain. I looked at Derek and shook my head. I knew I had to do something quickly.

- "The baby's coming now!"- I announced the obvious, knowing the entire team was listening, and hoped for the best.

- "Look, man, your baby is about to be born. Now, we want to help you, but you need to put that weapon down."- Morgan tried to dialogue with Tanner, but it was impossible. He wasn't going to cooperate.

- "No! This is my child! I'm not leaving it!"- the unsub shouted, so I slowly moved closer, put on a pair of gloves, and took a deep breath staring at Mrs. Johnson, trying to get her to mimic my breathing.

- "Hannah, I need you to breathe deeply. Breathe deeply."-

I kneeled in front of her and did my best to look as confident as possible, though deep down I was so freaked out I was hoping I wasn't going to keep any memories of that moment.

- "Hannah, I need you to start pushing..."- I whispered, but she refused.

- "I can't."

- "Yes, you can, baby, just like with Jeremy."- the unsub tried to help, but she didn't want anything from him.

- "This is not helping!"- Hanna mumbled under her breath, she was in so much pain that I knew I had to find a way to get him away from her as soon as possible.

- "Tanner, you need to let her go. The stress isn't good for the baby. If Hannah doesn't start pushing now we could lose the child."- I commanded him, but he kept the knife against her neck and refused to move.

- "I have to watch him. I have to keep him safe."- he argued and stared at me as if I was a threat to the baby's security.

- "Like you did with Ashley?"- Derek caught his attention, which left me focused on the baby.

- "That was an accident. I didn't mean to."- Tanner mumbled

- "I know you didn't. Accidents happen. What happened with Jeremy was an accident, right?"- Derek continued talking, and I knew he had hit a very sensitive string in the unsub. It could only help us or put the baby's safety in jeopardy.

- "If I'd have been there I could have helped him."- Tanner was taken by those words and his whole shift. That was the key to helping Hanna. So I took advantage of his concern.

- "Guys, something's wrong."- I tried my best to look convincing. - "The umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby's throat."- I didn't want to trouble Hanna, but I had to do something.

- "No!"- Tanner yelled right away, as well as his poor wife.

- "Well, Reid, do something."- Morgan got it right away, and kept his eyes glued on Tanner as I continued lying.

- "I need something to cut the cord with, quickly!"

My words came as urgent as it was needed, and Tanner didn't hesitate to give me the knife to cut the cord. In two seconds, Morgan grabbed him and started taking him out of the room, as the unsub yelled and tried to fight back. Just then, (Y/N) walked in with JJ and Blake, and she quickly kneeled next to me.

- "Don't worry, Hannah, your baby's doing fine, but you need to keep pushing. Ready?"

- "Medics are on their way."- my wife announced, but I shook my head and continued doing my work.

- "We can't risk moving her now. We'll have to deliver the baby here."

- "Oh, God!"- Hanna yelled and (Y/N) quickly held her hand after putting a pillow underneath her back.

- "It's gonna be ok, Hanna, trust him, he is a doctor."- I looked at my wife for a second and though I knew she meant it as words of reassurance for the victim, they worked for me as well.

- "Come on! squeeze her hand as hard as you can and push"- I said and watched her struggle to do it.

- "Oh, I can't. I can't."

- "Yes, you can! You're doing great!"- (Y/N) said and rubbed Hanna's hand on her- "You are amazing!"

- "Yes! you're doing great. I can see the head! Keep pushing! Keep pushing!"

It didn't take much for the baby to come out. I held him in my hands, (Y/N) helped me cut the umbilical cord, and we wrapped him in a blanket that was lying around on a couch. Medics arrived and took care of Hanna while my wife held the newborn with tears in her eyes.

- "You are amazing Spencer."- she whispered as the two of us kept our eyes on the baby- "I can't believe you just did that."

- "I wouldn't have done it without you, ma cherie."- I replied and kissed her temple.

- "You are not delivering our babies, by the way."- she said after a few seconds and chuckled- "I'm gonna need all the epidural they can give me."

And just like that, the thought was inside my brain like a disease that wouldn't stop spreading. It wasn't like I hadn't thought about having babies with (Y/N). I had imagined a future with her in many ways possible. And that was exactly the point: at that moment in our lives, it was possible. And the overwhelming amount of things that could go wrong was impossible to overlook. They were there each time I looked at her.

Ever since we got married, the possibility of having kids has been present in our lives. We weren't officially trying, but I knew it was something we were both thinking about. And for a moment, it was perfect. Until I remembered there was a chance our kids could inherit my mother's schizophrenia. I know that disease tends to run in families, and though studies show there is no single gene to be responsible, the possibility of having kids with that disease was real. And I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I ever put (Y/N) through any painful situation.

So I tried not to bring the subject up after we came back home, and for a few days, it worked. Until, well, it didn't.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I knew there was something wrong with Spencer as soon as we hopped back into the jet from Boston. He delivered that baby and something triggered him. I didn't want to pressure him, so I acted like a good wife and let him process the events at his own pace. I assumed it had something to do with the whole experience of delivering that kid and the fact we had talked a few times about having our own little family, but probably that whole moment had been eye-opening for him.

What if he didn't want to have kids anymore? What if he wasn't as ready as I felt? I was ready to quit taking the pill. I wanted to start trying to get pregnant. I wanted a little Spencer to love and take care of. Teach them all the things I knew. Watch them grow... I was fully ready to be a mom, and somehow I was scared to bring it up to Spencer. I was afraid he didn't want to anymore.

And then, the team made sure to force us into the conversation the Friday night we were all out together. We were at Rossi's favorite marine bar, the one he had brought my husband earlier in the week. Penelope and I gathered a bunch of people from the FBI and invited them over to say farewell to a piece of Washington's history. We also told them Rossi was buying the drinks, which explains why it was packed.

- "So, let's toast"- I said and raised my glass. The entire team and my husband were there with me, to enjoy our free night- "To spend more evenings together with family."

- "And to Dr. Spencer Reid, who may be adding M. D. to an already impressive list of credentials."- Hotch added, looking at my husband, who blushed, embarrassed.

- "And to Spencer Johnson, may he prove to be the child prodigy like his namesake."- Derek added- "I'm shocked there is a kid named after you out there before you two even have your first baby."

I know I smiled because little Spencer was a very cute and healthy baby, and I was (and still am) proud my husband helped deliver him. But the guys didn't stop teasing us after that.

- "And when are we going to have baby geniuses running around the BAU?"- Garcia asked- "I am ready to start knitting and spoiling your kids!"

- "Yeah, I'm surprised you haven't knocked your wife up already!"- and Morgan was on board with the joke- "I mean, are you doing things properly?"

- "Stop!!"- I nearly covered my ears with my hands

- "Emily said she'd happily fly from London just to assist with the baby shower I'm throwing you."

- "Penelope, I am not even pregnant yet."- I tried to reason with her, but it was useless.

- "You just said so, yet. But you will. Please! you'd make the cutest little munchkins!"- Garcia stared at me pouting.

- "Come on, don't pressure them."- Hotch tried to be the voice of reason, but it was impossible.

- "I'm sure Henry would love having a little cousin"- JJ smiled at us and sipped her drink.

- "Come on! This night is not about us."- Spencer chuckled, clearly awkward with the conversation, and raised his glass of whisky- "To Dave Rossi!"- and luckily, everybody else followed.

- "I still can't believe you guys did this."- Dave was surprised the place was packed

- "We wanted to make sure you had one last proper goodbye."- I assured him and felt his arm around me.

- "Grazzie, carissima!"

- "And I may or may not have posted on the Quantico message boards that all the drinks are on you tonight."- Garcia confessed, making us all laugh, busted.

- "And they are, indeed. Thank you very much!"- Dave added and we all raised our glasses again. The guys continued talking, but Spencer's eyes captured my whole attention. He was staring at his hands, holding his glass. He seemed concerned about something he clearly was overthinking. So I let David's arm go and walked closer to my husband.

- "Are you ok?"- I whispered, resting my hand on top of his. He slightly jumped and looked at me, surprised.

- "Yeah, sorry. I zoned out a little. I'm exhausted."

- "Do you wanna go home?"

- "No, it's Rossi's night..."- Spencer smiled with his teeth, but not with his eyes.

- "The guys..."- but before I could continue talking, I felt JJ's hand grabbing me and my husband and crawling us to the stage.

- "Come on guys!! Karaoke time!"- she commanded, as she gave us a mic, and Rossi started singing Billy Joey's "Piano Man". I looked around me, chuckling, 'cos the whole scene was surreal. The entire FBI quarters was in that bar, drinking and singing along as my friends and I sang karaoke. And Hotch even made a video.

Spencer held my hand as he tried to read the lyrics of The Piano Man, and I stared at him remembering the day he proposed. That was one of the most romantic things he had ever done. And watching him sing karaoke in that bar brought me back a million memories. We had grown so much already, that I felt we were ready to take our relationship to the next level: parenting. But somehow, I was scared to ask my husband if he wanted to have a baby with me.

As the night progressed, and Penelope got drunker and drunker, she continued to ask us about kids. She was very excited and eager to become an aunt. Apparently, our baby geniuses were what her life was lacking. Rossi was pretty drunk too, he sang a lot of Sinatra and even dragged Hotch on stage with him for a duet. I had a few whiskeys myself trying to find the courage to face my husband, who had a few drinks as well but kept doing his best to mask the fact something was bothering him.

Until I couldn't stand it anymore.

- "Ok, come here."- I grabbed Spencer's hand and dragged him through the crowd. I heard Morgan teasing us but I paid little attention to what he said. I just looked for a quiet spot in that packed bar, which ended up being the alley outside and asked my husband.

- "What is hunting that pretty brain of yours?"- and he stared at me with wide-opened eyes, trying to come up with something to deny what was obvious to me.

- "How much did you drink, chipmunk? I'm ok."

- "No you are not, you haven't been ok since we came back from the last case. So come on, spit it. I don't wanna dance around this for days until we both do something stupid or say something hurtful. Just say it, what is eating you alive?"

Spencer stared at me and finished his drink- a light beer- his eyes were so sweet and yet filled with fear. What was so scary that he couldn't share with me?

- "I hate that you know me so well sometimes"- he whispered and looked down at his shoes

- "No you don't. You love it."- I teased him and smiled as I walked closer and rested my hands on his waist- "Come on honey bunny. You know you can tell me anything."

- "I know."

- "So? Are you gonna tell your wife what's wrong?"- I whispered and Spencer finally looked at me. His puppy eyes could melt the coldest heart, and make my knees shake.

- "Let me ask you this"- he whispered after a few seconds of a very deep silence- "When you married me, did you ever think that my family's illness history might affect our kids?"

I stared at him confused. Which was that illness' history he was talking about? As far as I knew, it was just his mother's schizophrenia. Was there something else he never told me about?

- "What?"- I simply asked and Spencer stared at me like the answer was obvious- "You mean Diana?"- he nodded and looked back at his feet again, embarrassed he brought it up.

- "I just... can't stop thinking I could never forgive myself if our kids inherit any of..."- he stopped talking and shook his head, unable to even finish that sentence.

- "Where is this coming from? Why are you thinking about these kinds of things?"

I held his hand and kissed it, his eyes were still glued to his feet, not moving. A few curls of hair fell down his forehead, giving him an angelic look.

- "I never even considered it, Spencer. Not even once. Every time I think about our kids, I dream of them running around, catching bugs, and eating cookies"- I tell him my truth. I never considered Diana's schizophrenia as something we could even think about when it came to our kids. Why should we? You can't predict any disease and fear was not going to stop me from having my own family.

Spencer held my left hand and kissed my ring finger, a sweet gesture he did quite often, especially when something was troubling him.

- "I would never forgive myself if any of them inherited a disease from me."- the way Spencer whispered those words, so slowly, so scared. It moved me.

- "Honey, you won't..."

- "I just don't want to ruin their life"- his eyes filled with tears and his voice broke. My husband was honestly concerned about something that we couldn't even control. And I knew that meant that idea was eating him alive.

I remember walking with him from the back alley of a bar to our car parked on the other side of the street. It was late and everyone at the party was already drunk, so I didn't bother saying goodbye or telling anyone we were leaving.

Spencer and I sat in the back seat of our car and I held both of his hands as he kept trying not to cry. His jaw was tightened and his eyes glassy. It made me feel so guilty. My husband had been chewing those torturous thoughts the entire week, and I had been blind enough to think he was merely second-guessing having kids with me.

- "Spencer, I need you to look at me."- I whispered and held a finger underneath his chin, forcing his eyes to focus on mine. He bit his lip as I did my best to remain calm.

- "This is important, so please give your entire attention and eidetic memory."- I tried to joke, but he didn't smile or even move his face as I spoke.

- "Ever since I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, there hasn't been a day where I haven't thought of how amazing it would be having kids with you."- I said, and tears started falling from his eyes as I spoke. I had to pause and rearrange my thoughts, because watching him so affected made me think I was doing something wrong.

- "And you know that was way before we even started dating. Which means I've dreamed about having kids with you for a long time. And never, and I mean never, the thought of them inheriting any kind of trait from either of us has made me second guess or reconsider my dreams. I want a family with you, Spencer Walter Reid. I want to have your babies. I want to carry your children, a lot of them, as many as we can."

My husband cried and sobbed as I wrapped my arms around him and held him close to me. I didn't know what to do or what to say next. I just wanted to take all the pain away from him.

- "I just... I just want to make you happy."- he mumbled against my neck as I kept running my fingers through his hair and trying my best to be the support he needed at that minute.

- "You already make me happy, Spencer."- I kissed his cheek, not moving an inch away from him- "And I know our kids will make me even happier."

- "I just wish I knew they are going to be healthy."

- "They will be."- I assured him, not giving it much thought.

- "But how do you know?"

- "You are gonna be their dad. You will never let anything bad happen to them."- I affirmed, though it sounded more like an order to fate. - "And I'm gonna be their mom, I will always take care of our babies."

- "You are not scared?"- he asked softly and looked at me with teary eyes.

- "The only thing that scares me to death is the idea of you not wanting to have babies with me."- I confessed, and though he was the one crying, I felt embarrassed sharing my deepest fear.

- "I want so many babies with you. I've thought about it since we met."- my husband answered, and for a second, he smiled at me- "I was scared to bring it up, but... I'm so ready to be a dad."

- "Then please, let me make you a dad."- I was so eager to change his mood and lift his spirits, that I was almost ready to do it right there, in the back seat of our car. His lips found mine, and we sealed our pack, as his arms wrapped me tight and held me close to him.

We were finally ready to start our little family.

Next chapter

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