#LONG SHADOWS OF THE CIVIL WAR

[ckc4me]

Fort Donelson’s Walking Dead

There are many who say that the shades the soldiers linger still here and, indeed, some dead still walk its trails, paths and by-ways. Visitors, guides and costumed re-enactors all have their own tales to tell regarding the restless dead of Fort Donelson.

LONG SHADOWS: MORE GHOSTS & HAUNTS OF THE CIVIL WAR Grant at Fort Donelson by Paul D. Philippoteaux. In February of 1862 the Union army launched a major campaign against Forts Donelson and Henry. These twin Confederate bastions stood guard over the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers along the border with Kentucky—still technically neutral–and which together formed a barrier keeping the Federal…

[crunchycrystals]

your mother brought you up to be loyal and kind. teenagehood taught you theres good in goodbye. all of the women that you knew brought you here. i wanna teach you how forever feels. in good quality. safe and sound with her folklore/evermore vocals. eyes open with her older voice. if this was a movie from speak now taylor's version. what if i just died right now.

[adreamfromnevermore]

AU Where the Justice League forms as usual except for one slight difference where Bruce just so happens to have been the one superheroing for the longest. (Excluding Diana, who got up to it in World War 1 and then mostly didn't while she learned about Man's World)

Bruce helps form the Justice League, ignoring all of the comments as they come to the sudden realization that Gotham's baby cryptid story is actually a man in a very intimidating armored suit who can and will break your arm if you cause problems for him. They are unaware that this is not the first team he's led, and actually he's used to teams full of mostly teenagers who also happen to be his children. This should be easier, this team is primarily adults.

He realizes rapidly that he doesn't understand these people.

His kids take bonding activities to mean learning a dozen different ways to break someones leg. That doesn't fly with these people. And that is most of Bruce's ideas, hell when he was a kid Alfred took every opportunity to get him out of his room and mostly that was with the agreement that Alfred would teach him how to defend himself. He's come by it honestly.

This team is not easier. They have more drama than when his house was actually full of kids. It's insane. He doesn't know what to do with it, usually he just sent the kids to their rooms or grounded them from patrol. That doesn't work here.

He comes to a strange crossroads. That falls apart when he forgets who he's working with and snaps at Hal with a full room of heroes that the next person to throw a punch or an insult without a reason too will be sparring with him.

A long standing rule in the batcave that worked two fold to prevent infighting between the kids and too ensure that they were well and truly trained.

It works wonders. No one says a word out of line for the rest of the debrief. Bruce becomes the unofficial mediator of the league over Clark because anytime he walked in on a fight it suddenly became 10 times more civil out of sheer terror of what he'd do to them in a sparring match.

Eventually they actually meet his kids. Well, one kid.

Half way through a mission (one of the rare ones in Gotham) the Bat comes to a complete stop at the edge of an alley. Every single league member on the team comes to a stop behind him. Slowly from the shadows of the alley a man in a red helmet stalks out to greet them.

"You don't call, you don't write"

"Red Hood."

"Don't Red Hood me! We've been worried sick!"

"I was at the cave last night."

"You didn't answer my texts B. You always answer my texts."

Somehow it ends with big and scary following them through the rest of the mission with a running commentary of how much Bats has let him down in his failure to respond in a timely manner to a text send less than an hour before he ran into them in the alley. It only ends when Red Robin shows up.

And even then it only ends because Hood can't keep himself from throwing a punch and Bruce has to snap at him that if he throws another one they're sparring when they get home.

And by god is Jason giving up the chance to punch his brothers.

[hannieehaee]

BAD HABIT

18+ / mdi

summary: hiding his secret crush on you was already hard enough for jungkook, and after getting bit by a spider, he'd now have the grueling task of hiding his brand-new superhero identity from you.

content: spiderman!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, based on mcu's spiderman and is supposed to take place during/after civil war but with an aged up spiderman, college-aged Jungkook and reader, picture tattoo-less 2019 jungkook, pining, slow burn-ish, afab reader, smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 9.4k

a/n: despite the spiderman aspect of it, this is just a cute little love story between two besties there's no angst or action here lol sorry</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Oh my God, did you see what he did last night?", you excitedly shoved your phone in Jungkook's direction, showing him yet another news article detailing Spiderman's newest act of bravery.

"What, did he stop another bank robbery?", Jungkook showed disinterest in your interruption, continuing to pay attention to what was playing on the TV.

"Okay, booo! Why are you so lame about him? He's so cool," you complained, setting your back against the couch again with a frown.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Just don't see what the big deal is about him. There's cooler superheroes out there."

With the light from the TV shinning on the two of you, you allowed the content from the movie to consume you for a bit before arguing back. You always argued back when it came to Spiderman. This was practically routine to Jungkook by now.

"Like Iron Man? Sure, Tony Stark's cool, but think about it — Spiderman's probably just a regular person like you and me. Can you imagine doing all he does while keeping it all undercover?", you rambled on, "Also his body's crazy," you added as an afterthought, almost whispering it to yourself.

Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at this, inadvertently looking down at his own abdomen before responding, "How do you know he's got a nice body under that suit?"

"You can literally see his abs through the suit! Duh!", you tutted at him as if he were an idiot to question you.

"Ah, right. My bad," he chuckled, "Okay, whatever. Just pay attention to the movie. You can ramble about him all you want after we finish, okay?," he held up his pinky towards you in a childish fashion, grinning when you giggled at him and intertwined your pinky with him, grumbling a 'fine' in mock annoyance.

Now with you both putting your focus on the movie, — Jungkook's all-time favorite, Back to the Future — Jungkook had the opportunity to lose himself to his own head, thinking about your recent obsession with Spiderman — New York's newest hero.

After Spiderman's recent appearance at an encounter with the Avengers in Germany, followed by a more prominent presence in the streets of New York with a revamped suit, you had instantly formed an intense interest in the masked man. Prior to that, the hero was mostly a man hidden in the shadows — a myth to all those in Queens. Almost immediately upon his return to New York he became a sensation across the world, but specially around the area in which he'd serve the people and fight all evil around.

Among all those fans stood you, maybe the biggest of them all.

It didn't take you long to develop a liking to the masked man upon his sudden resurgence. Jungkook had known you to get overly invested in your interests (there had been a few instances throughout your friendship where you'd demonstrated as such), but he never thought you'd be the type to develop such a blatant crush on someone you virtually knew nothing about. Past the fact that he was the youngest addition to the Avengers, there was not much information about Spiderman out to the general public, yet you were quite loud about your crush on him to everyone you knew — especially to Jungkook, who just so happened to be your best friend.

Unfortunately to Jungkook, you were entirely unaware that the man you were actually crushing on was your best friend in disguise.

And even more unfortunate to him, you were even more unaware of Jungkook's own crush on you.

Did this count? Were you technically crushing on Jungkook?

He chose to go for the most pesimistic answer and assume that your interest in Spiderman would immediately die upon finding out his real identity. Throughout your many years of knowing each other — all through the ups and downs of middle school and high school all the way to university — you'd never once shown anything but platonic interest in him.

To be fair, Jungkook also never gave you any clear indication of his feelings for you. He liked to think that he was discrete about it; that you had no idea of the embarrassing crush he'd been cultivating since freshman year of high school. Fortunately, you appeared to be far too oblivious to it, leaving Jungkook to hold not one but two life-altering secrets, never once considering letting you in on either of them.

For now, all Jungkook could do was make up lame excuses for his sudden absences and to grumble any time Spiderman's name was brought up. Part of him held disdain for Spiderman due to having to keep him a secret from you, but most of his dislike was born out of jealousy over your interest in him. What did he have that Jungkook didn't? Nothing! But he could never tell you that, leading him to a never-ending dilema that he could entrust in no one.

The movie left his mind for the next of the night, much more so when you seemed to become disinterested again, cuddling against him as you prepared to let yourself fall asleep. This was common in your relationship, though it was always strictly platonic. It always left Jungkook wanting more, but still content at having you by his side.

The next time you brought up Spiderman was the morning after. That night, you'd fallen asleep soon before the Back to the Future marathon ended, which was coincidentally the same time in which he usually went out to patrol the city looking for crime nearby. Leaving you comfy on his couch and cuddled against some of his plushies, he made his way out to check in on the city. That night was particularly calm, as he only prevented two street burglaries before making his way back to a still-sleeping you.

Naturally, he fell asleep next to you, only waking up the following morning when you'd woken him up by shaking his side, exclaiming something about some news you'd just seen online. Before even coming to his senses, he could already tell what you were so excited about. It was a conflicting feeling really, consisting of half cockiness and half annoyance. He felt pride at how impressed you were at his actions (despite not having knowledge that they were his), though he also felt annoyed that it was his secret identity who took credit for it.

With a yawn, he finally turned to you in order to entertain your insistence on raving about the masked man who'd been spotted once again last night.

"Oh my God! Jungkook, look! He stopped some burglars just a few streets over! Do you think he passed by here? — What if he climbed on our walls? That's so crazy," you went a mile a minute, "Fuck, I can't believe I slept through it," you pouted by the end of your rambles, practically huffing and puffing.

Once more, he couldn't help but chuckle at your antics. Despite his internal annoyance at the mere existence of Spiderman, he was also thankful his presence gave him a first row seat to how adorably infatuated you could get.

"Not like you could've met him anyways," but then he burst your bubble anyways.

"Stop! I could never meet him, I'd embarrass myself too badly. He's too cool for me anyways," you laughed to yourself, beginning to get up and taking some clothes from one of the drawers nearby, — Jungkook's apartment housed some of your clothes specifically for nights like these — heading over to the bathroom and presumably beginning to get dressed as soon as you were outside of his line of sight, not even bothering to close the door.

"Really? He could just be a loser under that costume," he commented, knowing it'd get under your skin.

Leaning back against the couch with his arms behind his head in a relaxed manner, he didn't even need his spidey reflexes to predict the shirt you threw his way in defiance due to his comment. He simply let it land on his chest, chuckling at your cute childishness.

"C'mon! You don't have to defend him from every little comment I make. He's a superhero, right? He's got tough skin," he whined at you, crumpling the shirt into a ball and tossing it into the clothes bin nearby with an expert precision.

Finally coming out of the restroom fully dressed, you grumbled at him as you ransacked his living room in search for your makeup bag, "You're just jealous of him," you hummed, disinterested in his complaints.

"Jealous? Of what? Not having to risk my life on a daily basis?"

Oh, how he wished that was the case sometimes.

"Spiderman must have so much game. Meanwhile, when was the last time you had a girlfriend?", you mocked him, finally spotting your makeup and sitting on the floor in front of his full length mirror in order to do your makeup.

Getting up, he sat on a beanbag nearby, watching you through the reflection with a scowl.

"M-me? Without game? You're the one crushing on a nameless man who probably doesn't even have a place to live! At least I have my bachelor pad — which, by the way, you stay at free of charge!", he rebutted, somewhat offended but not really. He just really needed to win this fight against himself.

"Please, I could totally pull him if we were in the same room for five minutes," you smirked at him through the reflection, somehow grooming your eyebrows to absolute perfection despite the current argument going on.

"You literally just said he was too cool for you," he recalled back.

"Under that suit, he's just a man. And I could pull any man."

Pull me, please! a desperate gremlin in his head practically whined as soon as you said the words.

With a shake of his head, he cleared his mind of that thought, "Okay, valid. So, you mean to tell me that you're just waiting for the chance to catch him alone? Is that why you haven't dated in months?", he genuinely wondered.

"Maybe," you mumbled, now moving onto your blush, one of Jungkook's favorite touches in your makeup regimen, "How about you? How come you haven't seriously dated a girl in years? Any secret crush I need to know about? I'm very open about mine," you dug in, unknowingly making Jungkook break a sweat at the questioning glare you sent him through the mirror before refocusing your gaze on yourself.

Facing Captain America and the Winter Soldier had made him less nervous than this very moment.

He squirmed in his seat a bit before managing to let out a credible response, "Just- just not into anyone these days," he lamely responded.

"Boo," you boo'd him, "That's lame. Maybe if you wingman me with Spidey I could help you out with some girl," you suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," and that was that for that subject.

After that, the subject wasn't brought up again for the rest of the day. You and Jungkook followed your usual plans, walking over to uni side by side as soon as you finished getting ready and spending any of your down time together. Unlike last night, you opted to head back to your own apartment for the night, leaving Jungkook to freely roam the city in disguise while you probably daydreamed about the guy he wasn't. He kept you in his mind for the rest of the day, sighing any time he remembered how easy it was for you to want to pair him off to another girl, knowing his feelings surely would never be mutual.

Unfortunately for Jungkook, it was extremely difficult for him to ignore your intense interest in Spiderman. His supersonic hearing would not allow him to do so anyway.

He wasn't really in the habit of getting into your private business. Despite his superhuman abilities, he had sworn to himself that he would never spy on you or use any of his newfound skills to ever insert himself in places of your life where he wasn't openly invited.

However ...

Okay, it's not like he meant to be so quiet when he came into your apartment. And it's not like you hadn't invited him beforehand. It was very likely that you wouldn't have minded him hearing the conversation you were currently having with your friend on the phone since it technically did not concern him, but he still couldn't help but feel guilty at being made privy of the details of it.

And the details were harsh to listen to — but not in a bad way.

His nails dug into the edge of the wall as he began making sense of what you were saying — of who you were talking about. His eyebrows furrowed, not sure if in annoyance or if in frustration. Your commentary simply had an unexpected effect on him.

"Oh my God, don't ask me that!," you giggled, scandalized at your phone, "I can't think of him that way, I like him too much. It feels almost disrespectful," you whispered the last bit, as if ashamed yet still giddy.

Without any context, the hopeless romantic side of Jungkook's brain might've allowed him to think you were talking about him. His bionic hearing could make out your friend's words on the other side of the phone perfectly, however, which proved to him that you were in fact speaking of someone else — kind of.

"What, you're talking about him all the time but you tell me you've never had any thoughts of fucking him?", your friend teased on the other aide of the call, causing you to whine in response.

"Of course I have!," you argued back, making Jungkook mentally wince at the thought, "Everyone and their mom knows I'm into him, of course it's not just some elementary school crush, dude. I want him," you put extra emphasis on your last statement.

"Tell me more," your friend pushed.

Jungkook could hear you shuffling in the sheets, likely kicking your feet around due to the giddy emotions thinking about your crush caused within you.

"There's nothing to tell ..." you murmured, avoidant.

"There is, c'mon! It's not like you can talk about this with Jungkook. He hates him," she reminded you, causing Jungkook to nod to himself from the other side of the wall.

"He doesn't hate him. I think he just finds my crush ... dumb," you responded. You were right. Well, kind of.

"Okay, I don't care about that. I wanna hear more about him. You said you were going to try and see him. Have you?", your friend continued to push.

This made Jungkook pause.

Would you actually go as far as to try and seek out Spiderman? How would you even find him?

"Well," you started, dragging out the vowel, "I caught a peak of him the other day — don't say anything!," you interrupted yourself, "Jungkook doesn't know, it just happened the other day. And he'll call me reckless or something."

"What'd you see?", your friend was clearly excited at the news, ecstatic to heat more. Jungkook was more so anxious to hear more. How had he not spotted you?

"I caught him in the middle of changing out of his suit ..." you whispered, as if someone could possibly be listening in — if only you knew.

"What?!," if your friend was excited, she was over the moon now.

"I saw him making his way through the city with his little webs and he stopped by near me. It was total luck, but I recognized the alley where he stopped and ran there," you recounted, "All I could see by the time I got there was a guy speed walking away from the alley while adjusting a black sweatshirt — it was obviously him! Even speed walking he was too fast for me," you finished with an intake of breath.

"So you're saying you saw his abs, basically," was all your friend responded.

"Stop!," you whined, "But yeah ... I might've gotten to see his happy trail ... He had a mask and beanie on, so I didn't catch his face at all," he could hear the pout on your face, "Not that I wanted to! I'd never wanna find him out without his permission. I just wanted to see him up close."

Jungkook believed this. He knew that you'd respect anyone's privacy, specially someone who you had grown certain affection for.

He was still shocked by this information, though. You'd spotted him? How had he not noticed you? And on top of it all, you'd almost caught him suit-less. A tiny, and frankly stupid, part of him felt a little cocky at knowing you'd seen him in action — at knowing you'd seen part of his body and liked it. His regular self was quite modest around you, not wanting to cross any boundaries nor cause you to feel liberal enough to walk around bare near his vicinity (his brain would just not he able to handle that). It was already hard enough for him to see you in those tiny little shorts and tank tops you'd wear to sleep during the summer. He hoped he had a similar effect on you, and knowing he somewhat had it made him feel like he was on top of the world.

And then your conversation continued.

"You should've followed him, you dumbass! Don't you wanna know where that happy trail leads?," your friend encouraged.

"As much as I'd love to get him in bed, I can't just stalk him! Iron Man's secret identity didn't last too long, we'll probably know who Spidey is within a few years and I'll be first in line to get to him," you giggled.

"What are you gonna do once you get to him?"

"Not to get nasty, but the first thing I'd do would be–"

That's when Jungkook stomped his feet and made his presence to you known, acting as if he'd just arrived. There was no way he'd be able to hear your thoughts and still be able to look you in the eye afterward.

"Y/N? You home?", he stealthily made his way back to the front door before calling out to you, surely interrupting your conversation.

"Shit, never mind, Kook's here. Gotta go," you said a quick goodbye to your friend before making your way to the living room and welcoming Jungkook.

"Kookie! I forgot you were coming," you walked over to him to give him a quick hug; your usual greeting.

"You should just assume I'm coming at any time," he mumbled into the hug, pulling away and immediately finding his rightful place on your couch, soon joined by you.

"So, what's new?", he turned to you with interest.

You cocked your head to the side in a questioning manner, "Nothing? You just saw me yesterday," you scoff.

"Nothing new with your spider boy?", he feigned disinterest.

"You never wanna hear about him. Why do you ask?"

"Maybe I want to be more supportive," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

From his peripheral he could tell you were looking at him with curiosity in your eyes, likely pondering about his change of heart. It took you a few seconds of silence before shrugging off his unusual interest and continuing the conversation.

"I might've spotted him the other day ...", now you were the one to mumble, looking down to avoid what you likely believed would be a judgmental reaction from him.

"R-really?", he scratched the back of his head, "Where? What'd you see?"

"Y'know, just him swinging around. Saw him heading home, I think. Then I lost track of him," you told him once you'd realized this wasn't some ruse to scold you for your interest again.

"What would you do if you actually met him someday?", he asked nonchalantly. Or at least as nonchalantly as he could manage while recalling the prior response he'd interrupted when you'd been talking to your friend.

Shrugging, you pressed your lips into a line as you pondered it for a bit, "I'd just tell him I'm his fan, I guess. I'd probably be too shy to even speak to him. It's like talking to your high school crush; you just avoid them as much as you can til it goes away," you chuckled to yourself.

He hummed, "Well, if the day ever comes, I think it'd be worth a try to talk to him. Maybe he'll like what he hears."

You nodded along, seemingly mulling over it inwardly, but saying nothing more regarding the matter. Jungkook joined you in dropping the subject, moving on to your usual movie night whilst also thinking over your sudden spotting of his masked self. It was odd to him how you'd somehow spotted him, but that was really the last thing on his mind. What concerned him the most was the sudden desire he felt to fulfill that need to see you while he was in his suit. He craved for you to return his feelings and there was a thoughtless side of him that wanted to get that reaction out of you, even if it meant you'd be reciprocating it to someone else.

Jungkook knew this was a stupid and reckless thing to do.

If Tony Stark were here in this moment, he'd probably take away the brand new suit he'd recently made for him. However, Jungkook was only 21, his hormones were still going crazy; crazy enough for him to make dumb and uncontrolled decisions just based off his feelings.

This was how he came to find himself pacing back and forth on the terrace of your apartment building whilst suited up. Muttering out loud to himself, he fought against himself as to whether or not he should go through with what had been bugging at him since speaking to you about your almost-encounter last week.

After mulling over it for a bit, he came to realize that there was no true harm to actually granting your wish of meeting Spiderman. He knew you to be a reasonable person (despite your claims of wanting to fuck Spiderman — who was a complete stranger to you) and felt reassured that you wouldn't put his identity at risk. On top of that, you had claimed that you probably wouldn't be able to even speak to him if you were to meet him.

The biggest issue was to come up with a reason as to why he'd be paying you a visit in particular. Maybe you were completely clueless as to your best friend's secret identity, but you weren't an idiot. His motives and identity would be immediately suspicious to you due to the strange nature of his apparition. Sure, he could hide his face and voice and even demeanor, but you'd be able to piece the pieces together too easily, anyone would.

Unluckily for him, this was not something he had to worry about for too long, as his plans did not go as smoothly as he had hoped. Just in between his nonsensical rambles to himself, there was an interruption orchestrated by you, with your sudden presence in the terrace throwing him completely off guard. Thank God he hadn't had a chance to take off his mask before you showed up.

"Oh my God," were your only words as you slowly made your way through the door leading to the terrace, choosing not to make your presence unknown.

"Shit," was his sole response, wincing from behind the mask.

"What- what are you doing here? Is it really you?", you asked, slowly making your way closer to his frozen self.

Attempting to switch over to his usual confident demeanor, Jungkook stood up straighter, hands on his hips as he waved over at you. The eyes displayed on his mask replicated his actual facial expression, squinting at you in a friendly manner as he tried to introduce himself in the least awkward way he could muster whilst deepening his voice in order to mask it.

"Hello! I- Yes, it's me! I- uh, was not expecting anyone to be here," he managed, walking over to you and giving you a handshake — something quite out of character for Spiderman, which he hoped you didn't pick up on.

Unfortunately, you did pick up on it, tilting your head to the side in curiosity before returning his handshake. From Jungkook's perspective, you seemed like a mixture of nerves, excitement and genuine curiosity. He couldn't blame you. Your idol/crush had suddenly showed up on the roof of your apartment and was nonchalantly trying to make acquaintances with you.

"I'm so sorry!," you suddenly chirped, letting go of his hand mid handshake, "I wasn't following you, I swear! I live downstairs and sometimes I come up here for air and I saw you and I thought it was you — and it is you! Wow, I- Fuck, hi. I'm Y/N, it's so nice to meet you," you rambled on and on, inflicting pain in Jungkook's heart at how adorable you were.

"Hi, again," he smiled under the mask, "It's fine, uh, this happens more than you may think," he lied, attempting to cover his tracks.

"Really? Do you get spotted a lot?", you wondered.

"It's not super rare, but it's usually while I'm on the run, not like, uh, like this. I was just resting for a bit," he went to casually lean against the railing next to him but pathetically slipping a bit and having to readjust his standing.

He cleared his throat, "So, I take it you're a fan?", he attempted to make conversation.

"I'm literally obsessed with you. I keep up with every article that comes out about you and any sighting of yours," you beamed before cringing to yourself, "Shit, I'm not playing it cool at all, am I?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, "No, you're good, trust me. Most people just scream and run away or ask me to do a backflip — which I can totally do, but it gets repetitive. Others attack me sometimes. It's rare to actually start conversation with me."

"Oh, so am I special, then?", you giggled, taking a few steps forward as you moved to lean on the railing next to him.

And just like that, you took the upper hand in the conversation. The mood shifted the moment you decided to start a flirtation with him, and Jungkook knew he was completely doomed.

Yes, you were absolutely special. Sure, he would occasionally interact with regular citizens of Queens, but he had never actually sought them out for conversation nor even entertained any fanatics of his. For you, however, he was willing to make an exception. God, he had been itching to do this from the moment he found out you had an infatuation with the superhero.

"Y- you- yeah," he cleared his throat, trying again, "You're the only person who hasn't alerted everyone around me of my presence," he regained his suave vibe by the end of the sentence.

"Why would I ever do that?", you pondered out loud, using a flirtatious tone Jungkook had never been on the receiving end of, "Then I wouldn't get to have you all for myself."

Were you closer? Had you moved closer in proximity? He could swear that the distance had lessened from just a few moments ago. This wasn't good, but it was also great.

"O-oh? That's ... Yes, hah, thank you for not exposing me," was all he managed to say. Fuck, his usual wit and ability to banter under the guise of being Spiderman seemingly dissipated when it came to interacting with you.

You giggled at him, likely taking note of how easy it was to fluster him. Jungkook knew you were aware of how attractive you were, also having the ability you turn up the charm whenever you so wished — except he had never dealt with it firsthand. It was both exhilarating and nerve wracking at the same time. He had truly not prepared for this.

"It's no problem," you smiled at him with a hint of something else in your eye, "Since you're such a good guy, y'know, maybe you'd like to return the favor?", you tilted your head at him, lifting your eyebrows suggestively.

"R-repay? How would you suggest?", he managed to regain some of his confidence, now leaning his body a bit more towards your own, smiling under his mask as he attempted to keep his heart rate normal.

"I'm sure you're super busy saving the world and all that, but maybe you'd like to visit again? No one ever comes up here, so it'd just be the two of us," you suggested, biting your lip in anticipation. Despite your confidence, Jungkook could still hear the rapid thumping of your heart — you were nervous about shooting your shot with a certain superhero; understandably so.

He decided to take advantage of the newfound realization that you might've been just as nervous as he was, clearing his throat and ensuring he didn't stutter this time around, "That'd be unfair, though, wouldn't it? To show you favoritism over all my other fans?", he said in flirtatious jest, hoping you caught on.

A pout far too enticing for Jungkook made its way to your lips, "But you just said I was special?", your hand went up to his chest, finger tracing the spider symbol on it.

"I never said that, you did," you couldn't see the teasing grin on his face, but it was there to stay.

"Oh?", you feigned offense, "So you don't think I'm special? Wow, now you really do owe me."

"You're right. Wouldn't want any unhappy citizens in Queens when I can help it," he agreed, taking hold of your wrist and tracing the back of it.

You smiled to yourself then, letting air out through your nose before looking back up at him, "I really do mean it. If you ever need a place to lay low, you can always come," you paused, "And ... If you ever want company, I'm just downstairs," you suggested.

Biting his lips from behind the mask, he nodded, letting go of your hand, "Yeah, I'll take that in mind," he checked his wrist despite there being no watch there, pulling a chuckle from you, "Unfortunately, I have to get back to patrolling now, but I'll see you around?", he asked as he climbed up the ledge of your building, ready to swing away.

"That's up to you, Spiderman," were the last words you said, though they were spoken with a confidence that told him you knew he'd be coming back.

Within just a month, Jungkook had lost count of the times he'd coincidentally found himself on your roof, always showing up at a similar time as that of your first encounter.

At first he played it off as a coincidence, cheekily claiming that he was just passing by and needed some rest. Other times, he'd show up due to legitimate exhaustion as he sought you out for comfort. It was very quick that you began a genuine friendship with one another, having an unspoken agreement of seeing each other there a few times a week late into the afternoon.

The flirtation was still present, but a friendship between you overtook that. This made Jungkook glad in a sense, as he knew he would've felt guilty if anything romantic ever came up without you knowing his real identity. He already felt badly about befriending you without your knowledge, but he felt like he was too late to back out now.

Today was yet another day in which he decided to show up, though this time a little later. Since you lived at the highest floor of your building, his mere presence on the roof was enough to alert you of his arrival, causing you to walk through the door leading to the staircase just moments later.

You were in your pajamas — just some small shorts and a tank top, but it was enough for his eyes to bug out of his head (figuratively, of course). Any time he'd stay over with you, you'd usually opt for a shirt long enough to cover halfway through your thighs, but since Jungkook wasn't present tonight it seemed like you'd chosen a tank top tight enough it'd give him the perfect view of your nipples peaking through the fabric. It bugged him to think you were doing this for Spiderman and not Jungkook, but he was too distracted by the sight of you to mind it too much.

"Hey," you greeted him as you headed his way, "A little late today, huh?"

"Yeah, uh, I was busy with a robbery," he explained, leaning against the veranda as you joined next to him.

"Oh? That sounds dangerous? Are you hurt? Maybe I should take a look?", your hand went up to his chest, pretending to check for injuries.

He laughed and you joined him, biting his lip under the mask, "You're even more dangerous than any bad guy out there, you know that?", he grabbed your wrist and took your hand off his chest, opting to shyly hold onto it instead.

"Me? I'm not the masked man showing up at an unsuspecting girl's apartment in the middle of the night," you teased, hand playing with his own.

"I thought I wouldn't be a stranger by now. We've been meeting for what, a month now? I'd say that's enough to get to know a person," he reasoned.

"Hmm," you pretended to mull over it, "Does that mean there's no chance you'll let me see what's under that mask?", you pouted at him.

This was not the first time you teased him about his secret identity, often bugging him (in a way far too entertaining for him to be actually bugged by it) to let you in on his secret. You swore up and down you'd never tell, offering up your pinky to intertwine with his. Jungkook liked you so much that there were various instances in which he had to catch himself before he ended up agreeing with your request.

"You know I can't do that, gorgeous," it was his turn to flirt. To be fair, as Spiderman, he did have a flirtatious streak to his personality. You weren't the only one on the receiving end of it, but you sure were the only one he meant it with. You also always giggled or blushed when he turned up the charm, which always instigated him into doing it more and more.

"But you said I was special," you reminded him with a smile, "And! We've been meeting for a while. Don't you wanna trust at least one person with your identity? Y'know, if something were to happen to you," even Jungkook could tell you were pulling your reasoning out of your ass, but he couldn't help but feel endeared by you.

Before he could fire back with an equally cheeky response, you interrupted him again, "How about you let me see you some other way?"

He cocked his head to the side with curiosity, unknowing of what you meant.

Hesitantly, your hand let go of his, now engulfing it with both of your hands. Your fingers traced his hands through his gloves, looking up at him for a moment to seek permission for what you were going to go next. Silently, he offered you a nod, allowing you to take off his gloves.

Jungkook couldn't help but feel slightly scared that you might recognize his hands, but finding no reaction in your eyes or heart rate (which he could hear perfectly any time he neared you), he felt calm. Your hands traced his own bare ones, eventually holding them in your own. The entirety of the interaction was soft and intimate in a way Jungkook had never experienced.

"Can I see more?", you asked after a while, voice almost a whisper.

"What- what would you like to see?", he whispered back, gulping at how close to you he suddenly felt.

Once more, your hand silently went up to touch him, but this time it reached his chest, laying flat against it before slowly finding the opening in the middle, allowing you to peek at a sliver of his bare chest. Without hesitation, Jungkook grabbed onto your hands on his chest and helped you open his body suit a little more, just enough to reveal his chest.

Your hands softly traced at a few cuts and bruises found there, pouting to yourself as you stared at the firm muscle under your hands. Silence engulfed you for a few moments as he enjoyed your affections.

"Well, this seems kinda unfair," he started with a quiet voice, "You're getting me naked, feeling me up. Making me feel like a piece of meat," he joked.

You stifled a chuckle, "Don't think I didn't notice you looking at my boobs when I got here, you perv. I'm just getting my payback," your hands went back to his hands, taking them in your own.

He gaped at you from under his mask, "I- I would never!", he rasped out, "The fact that you would even accuse me of that- I- I am appalled, Y/N Y/L/N," he gave you an exaggerated gasp.

"Okay, whatever," you rolled your eyes, "Can I keep going now?", you asked as you went back to tracing his suit with your hands, this time reaching up to his neck.

You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as you stared up at him. He knew that all you could see was the comically large eyes featured on his mask, but he was still affected by the look on your face. Your mouth was agape and your eyes kept going down to where you knew his lips would be. Without being able to help himself, his hands wrapped around your waist, feeling the sliver of skin between your shorts and your tank top. In all your years of friendship, Jungkook had never been able to hold you like this. It was exhilarating.

There was no need for any words as your hands found his mask, lifting it up to uncover his lips and lay right below his nose. Jungkook knew he should've been more careful in letting anyone — even you — even make contact with his mask, but his eyes had been trained on your lips from the moment you got your hands on him. His mind was in another planet at the moment.

There was, again, no reaction from you that could've led Jungkook to believe you had recognized him. Was the shape of his lips not obvious enough? Were you too distracted to notice? It truly made no sense to him, but the proximity of your lips had him too distracted to think about it too much.

That was when the moment Jungkook had been waiting for for years finally came to fruition. Your lips made contact with his own, very tentative and shy in their movements. Mere seconds happened until he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss as he held you against him.

It was a bit awkward due to the obstacle the mask proved itself to be, but Jungkook didn't care. He was far too drunk in you to consider anything around him, specially when the kiss grew heated within moments. Pressing you up against the veranda, Jungkook let out all pent up need against tour mouth, hoping in the back of his mind that you wouldn't realize it was him you were kissing.

Sadly, it all ended before Jungkook could really lose himself in it. You pulled away with a giggle at the way his body insisted on following yours, attempting to trap you in another kiss. He couldn't help but chuckle back, still not letting go of you.

"Hmm, ever let any of your other fans go that far?", you hummed when he buried his face on the crook of your neck, pressing shy kisses on the bare skin.

"N-no, just you," he muttered, pulling back to readjust his suit, now covering himself back up.

"Boo," you complained once he was completely covered up again, crossing your arms petulantly, "What, time for you to go?"

"Sadly, yes. I'm a busy man, pretty. Need to get back out there to ensure pretty girls like you remain safe," he coo'd at you jokingly, pinching your nose adoringly before beginning to climb the veranda in order to leave.

"You know this isn't a one-time thing, right?", you called from below him.

"Oh, I'll make sure it's not, baby," he chuckled before saluting you as he jumped down, disappearing from your view almost immediately.

He arrived home soon after that, too giddy to even consider patrolling that night. The smile wouldn't leave his face, and his skin was covered in goosebumps. He felt like such a teenager at the excitement cruising through him, but the remnants of the feeling of your mouth on his simply wouldn't leave him.

He knew that sooner or later he'd have to tell you about who he was, but he wanted to enjoy your newfound relationship as much as he could. So far, you hadn't told him about your frequent encounters with Spiderman, which led him to believe you felt the same way. Clearly you wanted to keep him as your own little secret, which only made him the giddier about it all.

There were occasions in which Jungkook simply didn't plan things out to well. Today was one of those days.

Having no one aware of his identity proved to be more bothersome than he had first assumed. Sure, he could lie about his location to his friends and family with ease, keep any troubling encounters with criminals to himself, but it was the aftermath of these encounters that sometimes came to be too much for him to handle.

He had been reckless tonight, somehow miscalculating every single one of his moves when taking down a crew of armed robbers. He hadn't even meant to come across them nor fight them on his own (Tony Stark had warned him about this before), but it's not like he could've walked away without at least attempting to deal with the situation.

In the end, he was victorious, and his current state proved as much. It was not a simple fight, resulting in his suit getting mangled all over, with many of the injuries penetrating into his actual skin.

Battered and covered in bruises and scratches all over, Jungkook had no idea where to go. This was one of the first times in which Jungkook found himself limping and unknowing of how to patch himself up before the sun rose. His plan had been poor, which only reminded him what a stupid decision it was to try and handle the situation on his own rather than to leave it up to the police.

But his terrible planning skills did not stop there. They evolved into finding himself standing on the fire escape that led directly to your apartment. With his arms holding onto his sides to try and alleviate the pain, he reached out to knock on your window, hoping 2AM wasn't too late for you to come find him.

It was only moments when you showed up in your pajamas, a shocked yet worried look on your face as you opened up your fire escape entrance to him.

"Oh my God, what happened?", you asked whilst ushering him in, providing him with support so he could make it over to your room and lay on your bed.

"You should see the other guy," he rasped, coughing out.

"Stop! Fuck, how can I help you? What do you need?", you frantically went over to your restroom, returning with a makeshift first aid kit.

You sat next to him on the bed, helping him sit up so you could check out his injuries. His suit had multiple scratches that revealed slivers of his skin, but there was nothing you hadn't seen the previous time he had been over.

"It was just a robbery gone wrong. Nothing to worry about," he finally said, wincing when you began to open up his suit to better check his injuries. Your hands immediately went to try and take care of the cuts on his stomach, moving anything out of the way in order to reach them.

"You idiot," you muttered, "This is gonna hurt, okay? Just breathe deep," you warned before moving on to dab on his injuries with some ointment. Hissing at the burn, his stomach hardened, causing him to recoil a bit.

"Jungkook, be still," you hissed back at him, scoffing when he suddenly stilled at the mention of his name.

"W-what? What did you just say?",

You paid him no mind, still putting all your focus in his injuries, "Do you think I'm dumb, Jungkook? You show up to hang out with me and let me feel you up and you think I won't recognize you? You really are an idiot," you chuckled by the end.

"You- you knew?! This whole time?", he gaped at you, throwing off his mask as he groaned at the way you blatantly laughed at his shock, "God, you suck."

"C'mon, Jungkook. You're a horrible liar. And I'm your best friend, you can't hide anything from me."

"Whatever," he huffs, followed by a wince from your manhandling of his injuries, "You could've told me," he muttered petulantly.

You finally looked back at him, with a stern look in your eyes Jungkook only ever saw whenever you were about to tell him off, "Oh, like you told me? Dude, you were more than fine pretending not to know me," you jabbed at him, "Dickhead," you muttered once you were done.

It was his time to chuckle, jabbing at your leg with his own and smirking when you pushed back.

"So, is this you admitting you've wanted to fuck me all this years?"

You scoffed, "Me? I wanted to fuck Spiderman. Not my fault it turned out to be you," you argued as you wrapped some bandages on the cuts found alonh his torso, "You're the one who came after me cause you wanted to fuck me."

"Okay, fine," he relented, patting at the wraps you'd just secured on him, "What's the verdict now? Still want to fuck me?", he leaned in with a smirk, smirk growing even bigger at your playful scowl.

"Shut up and come here," you practically growled at him, pulling him to you by his shoulders and catching him in a kiss.

It was almost effortless the way in which Jungkook pushed you back on the bed, easily climbing on top of you as he kissed you. His hand was on your back as he lowered your body to lay flat on the bed, ignoring any injury he may have had. Everything left his mind as he kissed you — the burglary, the secret he thought he had been keeping from you, the relief you now knew; everything.

"Kook," you sighed when his lips reached the length of your neck, softly nibbling at your skin every so often.

"You're so bad," he murmured, "Lying to me this whole time ... Making me look like an idiot while I tried to keep my secret from you," he reprimanded with a love bite.

"You're the idiot who- oh," your complaint was interrupted by the sudden presence of his hands on your breasts, feeling at your nipples through the thin barrier of your tank top.

"Shh, baby. You may have had the upper hand all these years, but now I'm in charge," he shushed you, "Never looked my way, but kept tryna get in my pants as Spidey? Bad, bad girl," he murmured as his lips came closer and closer to your chest, eventually reaching your nipples and wrapping his mouth around the clothed skin, engulfing the cloth with his saliva as he abused your nipple with his teeth.

You writhed under him, both frustrated at the barrier and affected by the stimulation, "Hmm, and you're good at dealing with the bad guys, right, Kookie?", you murmured, already delirious with his touch.

In the meantime, his hands went up to your breasts, lifting up the shirt and smoothly managing to throw it off before his hands went right back to playing with your tits.

"Oh, yeah. Gonna take care of you, baby. Gonna fuck all the bad out of you," he sighed at the sight of your nude torso, hips unable to help themselves in beginning to grind against you.

He trapped you under him, using you for his own pleasure. However, if your moans were anything to go by, he had a great idea of his current effect on you. Holding you down, he kissed you up and down, going from your breasts to your lips all while his hips danced with your own. At some point his hands snuck down to help you pull off your shorts and panties low enough to give him access to you. By now, you were basically completely nude while he remained in his scratched up suit. Seemed unfair, but it worked for Jungkook.

With curious hands, he reached down to your bare cunt, beginning to finger his way to your clit. His thumb found it with a swiftness you could only expect from a man like Jungkook. Synchronizing his hand and hips, he ground down on you while thumbing at the puffy pearl between your legs.

"Right there, huh?", he murmured at your increasingly high-pitched sighs, "That's where you need it, huh, baby?"

Warm eyes stared down at yours, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he worked you all the way to your peak. Not a single part of him was occupied with anything but you — his lips tended to your own, his hand to your clit, his hips to your cunt, he was consumed by you whilst consuming you himself.

All his senses were heightened. His superhuman hearing allowed him to take in every noise of wetness coming south and every cry coming north. He could smell you perfectly, which only added to the delirious feeling you always provoked in him.

"I- Kookie, I'm gonna cum ... Keep going, I'm almost there, fuck," you cried as his movements sped up. Unbeknownst to you, he let out a sigh of relief at realizing your orgasm would come before his own. He was bursting inside his suit, almost ready to pounce you.

"Yeah? Cum for me, pretty. Need you to cum for me, okay? Promise I'll ... I'll fuck the bad out of you right after," he swore, lips finding their way to your ear as he whispered words of encouragement to you.

With a desperate nod, you continued to cry out his name, hands finding his bicep for support as you let yourself go. Jungkook took in every sound, every move, every single reaction coming from you. He memorized every bit of your orgasm and let himself be ruined by it.

Upon the crescendo of your orgasm, wet sounds filled up the room once more as his lips made their rightful way to yours once again. He sighed praise into your lips, calling you his good girl and his dream, claiming you to be the greatest reward he could ever receive.

"Thought I was bad, Kook? What happened to that?", you teased him, beginning to slowly rip off his suit in order to get him equally as nude as yourself.

"Baby, shut up. Just let me fuck you," he scolded, annoyed your words were interrupting his kisses.

"Hmm, do superheroes need condoms, or are you going in raw?", you asked so casually it made Jungkook's grip on you tighten involuntarily.

"Don't talk like that, fuck, I'll cum," he winced before backtracking with wide eyes, "Shit, wait. You'd let me do it raw?", he gaped at you, interrupting the kiss.

You laughed at him, giving him a single peck, "Course, Kook. Trust you more than anyone," you said, sharing the first moment of pure softness of the night.

Jungkook loved how easy it was for you to share friendly banter and bug at each other even under this context, but he couldn't lie when he said he adored those moments of unadulterated adoration you'd share any time you looked up at him while he was Spiderman. This was reminiscent of those moments, but so much better — especially being now aware that every single one of those looks had been directed at Jungkook, not Spiderman.

"Yeah?," he smiled at you, intertwining your fingers above your head, "Trust you too, beautiful," he let go of one of your hands to line himself up, groaning as he traced his tip up and down your folds before finally entering you.

"God, Kook," you sighed, arching your back at the feeling.

"I know, fuck," he matched your tone, burying his face in your neck while he gave you some time to get used to him, "Let me know when I can move, okay, baby? Feel so fucking good already."

You nodded wordlessly, using your free hand to dig your nails on the skin of his back. After about a minute you gave him the green light to move, dragging your nails down his back when he began to thrust, slowly building up his speed snd intensity.

"That feel good, pretty?", he murmured into your ear.

"Mhm!", you practically whined, attempting to move your hips to his rhythm, "D-don't stop."

Unburying himself from the crook of your neck, his hands went to your face to make you look into his eyes. He looked at you silently for a few moments with softness in his eyes, proceeding to locking your lips in a kiss as he continued to fuck into you. It was all very intense yet it carried an air of intimacy Jungkook knew he would never be able to replicate.

"Tell me you're almost there, shit. 'm gonna cum soon, pretty," he warned, thrusts accelerating in both speed and intensity.

"Yes! Almost there, just- keep going," you whined, hands reaching his hips to further encourage his movements. Wrapping your legs tighter around him, your body took control and did its best to follow his movements, making Jungkook's orgasm even more imminent.

"Think I can count you down?" he grumbled, eyebrows furrowed and demonstrating the amount of restraint in him at the moment.

"Yes, c-count me down," you nodded aggressively.

"Kay, pretty. Cum with me, yeah? In three," his hand went to toy at your clit once more, making you hiss in pleasure, "two ..." his hips readjusted to hit at that one spongey spot he'd been ramming at, but now harder, "one," he groaned the last word, almost falling limp against you as his movements stilled.

He could feel himself emptying inside you, kissing at your skin endlessly at how intimate the act felt. Meanwhile, you mewled nonstop under him, not helping his situation at all. He felt as if life halted for a moment, with everything aligning perfectly as he enjoyed both his and your orgasm.

"God ... Fuck, I can't believe it took us this long to do that," he sighed when it was all said and done.

You pushed at him, making him remove his weight off you and lay beside you, staring up at the ceiling just like you, "You're the dumbass who wouldn't tell me you liked me," you huffed.

"Well, if I'm that much of a dumbass, why did you never tell me you knew who I was- Which, by the way! How long have you known?", he was still fairly breathless, but entirely too curious.

You took a pause to laugh at him for a moment, only stopping when he gave you a menacing stare, "Since the first day you came to see me," you started, "You moved and talked just like Jungkook, and it made no sense for you to come see me out of all people," you revealed.

His body turned to its side, arm reaching out to make you cuddle against him, "Why didn't you say anything?", he pouted.

"I don't know," you shrugged, "Wanted you to tell me about your identity on your own. Not my fault you're too dumb," you murmured that last part."

"Okay, whatever. You're my Spidey girlfriend now anyway, so it doesn't matter anymore," he huffed.

"Oh? I don't recall anyone asking me to be their 'Spidey girlfriend,' do you?"

"Fine," he groaned, "Give me ten minutes and I'll give you a full-on confession of love, okay?"

"Can't wait," you laughed.

to read short 1.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, dry humping, teasing, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 212 (teaser); 1308 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"You're the vain of my existence, you know that, right?", you groaned at Jungkook's sudden presence on your fire escape.

"Is that how you talk to your boyfriend? I spend all day fighting evil and come back to nothing but disrespect," he complained jokingly, making his way into your room as if he owned the place.

"Boyfriend? Last I remember, I'm dating Spiderman, not Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook never asked me out," you trailed behind him, guiding him to take a seat in your couch.

"That joke's getting so old," he boo'd at you, "Plus, I literally have the suit on. Should I put on the mask? Is my face that ugly?" he continued his complaints, taking a seat on your couch and pulling you towards him, his inhuman strength managing to get you straddling him with minimal effort.

"No," you coo'd, "I like Jungkook's face just fine," your hands went to play with his hair, kissing at his cheek softly, "So, who were the bad guys today? Robbers? Bullies?"

"Nothing much today, just some guy stealing a bike and then a lost cat," he mumbled, "Still spent most of the day patrolling, though," he said as he buried his face in your chest, allowing you complete access to playing with his hair.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

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[novaursa]

Love love LOVE reading your most recent requests! Especially the cregan ones

If you’re still taking requests, could I get one from cregan pov where velaryon/targ reader must wed cregan to honor the pact made by Jace. I’d Iove to get cregans first impressions of seeing her, almost in awe because it’s his first time seeing a targ/velaryon with old Valyrian features and how he feels about the betrothal. Bonus points if you add her dragon too 👀💖

Valyrian Bride

Requests are closed!

- Summary: When your older brother, Jacaerys, promised you to Cregan to be his bride, the Lord Stark did not expect what he got - a trueborn dragon.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: I hope this is what you had in mind. 🙂

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Next part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

Cregan Stark stood tall upon the frost-crusted battlements of Winterfell, his grey eyes fixed on the southern horizon. The wind howled around him, cold and biting, but he barely noticed. The men beside him, his bannermen and closest retainers, stood in hushed anticipation. They were a hardy lot, men of the North, but today there was a tension in the air that not even their steadfast presence could dispel. The daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Dragon Princess promised to him, was on her way. And she was bringing her dragon.

Cregan was a man of duty, honor-bound by his word. When Jacaerys Velaryon had come to the North, securing his father’s oath to Rhaenyra, Cregan had listened to the young prince’s proposal with a calculating mind. He had known what the South was asking—his allegiance in a civil war that would tear the Seven Kingdoms apart. The North had no taste for southern squabbles, but for an alliance that could secure his people’s future, Cregan had agreed. A marriage bond, a union with the blood of kings and dragons.

But he hadn’t expected this.

The sky darkened. A shadow passed over the pale light of the day, and a roar echoed across the windswept land. His heart quickened. The unmistakable sound of wings filled the air, as if the heavens themselves were being torn apart. Men murmured in awe, some with fear. Cregan’s grip on the pommel of his sword tightened as he peered into the sky. And then, she appeared.

The dragon came first—Vaetrix, her crimson scales gleaming like molten fire against the pale snow. Larger than anything Cregan had seen before, the great beast descended from the clouds with a grace that defied her monstrous size. Her wings flared, casting a shadow over the courtyard, and the air was filled with the smell of sulfur and smoke.

But it wasn’t the dragon that took Cregan’s breath away.

Atop Vaetrix, astride the monstrous creature as if born to it, was the princess. Her silver-gold hair streamed behind her like a banner, long and flowing, catching the sunlight as she descended. Her features were sharp, unmistakably Valyrian—the high cheekbones, the proud set of her jaw, the violet eyes that seemed to pierce through everything they beheld. She was a vision of Old Valyria, like the stories his father had told him as a boy. She bore little resemblance to her half-brothers, with their softer features. No, this was the blood of the dragon in full force.

His bannermen whispered around him.

"She looks like a goddess," one muttered, his voice thick with awe.

"Old Valyria reborn," another added, his voice trembling.

Cregan said nothing. He could only stare, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. He had expected a girl, a lady to wed and secure an alliance, but this… this was something else entirely. There was power in her, in the way she moved, in the way she carried herself atop that dragon. She was not just a girl of noble birth—she was a force of nature, a storm in human form.

Vaetrix landed with a deafening thud, snow and dirt kicking up around her as she folded her massive wings. The ground trembled beneath her weight, but Cregan stood firm. He watched as the princess dismounted with a fluid grace, her hand brushing along Vaetrix's scaled neck before she strode forward. Her boots crunched in the snow, the chill of the North seemingly unfelt by her as if the dragon's fire warmed her from within.

When her eyes met his, Cregan felt a jolt run through him. Those violet eyes… they were ancient, wise beyond her years, and yet held a fire that could burn a man alive if he dared to challenge her. His mouth felt dry, his usual steady words faltering in his throat.

She approached, and as she drew nearer, Cregan noticed more—her height, the proud way she held her head, the confidence in her steps. She did not walk like someone being delivered to a husband. No, she walked like a queen in her own right, a woman who expected the world to bend to her will.

When she stopped before him, she inclined her head ever so slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment rather than submission. “Lord Stark,” she said, her voice smooth and strong, carrying the faintest hint of the Valyrian accent that lingered in her family’s tongue. “I have come as promised.”

Cregan blinked, forcing himself to regain his composure. “Princess,” he replied, his voice rougher than usual, betraying the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. “Winterfell welcomes you.”

Her lips curled into the faintest of smiles, though it was hard to tell whether it was one of amusement or mere politeness. “I am honored to be here, to fulfill the promise made between my house and yours.”

He nodded, his gaze locked on hers. “I did not expect—” His words caught in his throat for a moment, and he shook his head, cursing himself for his loss of composure. “I did not expect such… splendor.”

The smile deepened, and there was a flicker of something in her eyes—perhaps amusement, or perhaps something more dangerous. “I am not what you expected then, my lord?”

Cregan met her gaze evenly. “No, princess. You are far more.”

Behind them, Vaetrix rumbled, a deep sound that reverberated through the stone walls of Winterfell. His men shifted nervously, glancing at the beast with wide eyes, but Cregan paid them no mind. His focus was entirely on her.

The princess tilted her head, studying him with those sharp, knowing eyes. “I have heard much of the North, of its strength, its honor,” she said softly, her voice carrying on the wind. “It is a land of fierce men and harsher winters. I hope that I will find my place here, as your wife.”

There was something in the way she said it, a subtle challenge, as if she were testing him, seeing if he was the man she had been promised. And for the first time, Cregan understood that this marriage was not just a bond of convenience. She was not some southern lady to be tamed or coddled. She was a dragon, and if he were to claim her, he would have to prove himself worthy.

“You will,” he said, his voice steady now, conviction settling in his chest. “You will find your place here, with me.”

Her eyes gleamed with something close to approval, and she nodded once, a gesture as regal as any queen’s. Then, without another word, she turned her gaze back to Vaetrix, who stirred at her silent command, lifting her massive head.

Cregan watched her walk away, feeling a mixture of awe and excitement. The North had never seen a woman like this, and he knew, in that moment, that his life—Winterfell itself—was about to change forever.

[arcielee]

Ābrazȳrys

Summary: Aemond goes to see if the king is truly dead and finds his wife instead. Paring: dark!Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader Word Count: 1900+ Warnings: MDNI, dark[ish]!Aemond, Reader AFAB, noncon elements, ghostly voyeurism? rough sex, p in v unprotected, creampie, breeding kink when you squint. Author’s Note: So, this is not for the poll I just had, but something that came from rambling with my muses [thank you lovelies]. This is dedicated to @namelesslosers whose recent piece already had my mind thrumming with dark!Aemond ever since I read your story. Thank you, Mari, this is mostly your fault. 😆 Not beta read, my mistakes are my own and I am woefully sorry for them all. Also, Sȳz ābrazȳrys is Valyrian for good wife.

An accord was struck between the Warden of the North and King Viserys; you were then packed to be sent away to the capital, to wed his second son, Prince Aemond. Your purpose, you learned, was to placate the growing rift within the house of the dragon, but you soon realized it was not something that could be easily mended. 

Aemond was complexity carved from marble, both beautiful and statuesque as the blood of Old Valyria was rumored to be. You saw his ire was not unfounded when the crowned princess had returned to flaunt her sins at her side, their tousled dark hair as bold as the crimson curve that cut through the left side of your husband’s face. 

You felt the shift, saw the hatred now etched onto his sharp features at the sight of them. “Bastards,” he had murmured loud enough for you to hear. His tone was dark, his hold on your hand stopping the blood from reaching your fingertips.

The tension brought with their arrival was palpable, weaving through the Red Keep and pouring into the Small Hall where dinner was held, as per the king’s request. The pleasantries seemed forced and it ended with a scathing toast, an outburst, and when you tried to follow after Aemond, he had been quick to dismiss you.

You often struggled to find your place in King’s Landing. Aemond was courteous, but cold; both diligent and disinterested in the same breath. He treated you as his duty and it left your heart aching for more. It could not be sated with his family: Aegon was too lost in his cups, as was Helaena but with her dreams, and you had never met the youngest prince, as he was tucked away at Oldtown. 

This left you to shadow the queen, which was how you now found yourself quietly at her side, your gaze accompanying her own–her brown eyes were wide and wet and fearful all at the same time. Her handmaiden had brought you to her quarters to hear it firsthand: the king was dead. Now you watched as the Silent Sister finished the wrappings on the body. 

There was an attempt to mask the smell of death with the tapers lit, with the cloves and fresh herbs crushed for a smoldering incense that curled upwards into the air, but the lifelessness remained, prominent still. You could only assume it was something so intricately knitted with the late king, a man who had lingered so long on the precipice that life had long rotted away before he had taken his final breath. 

Alicent waited until they left before she took the crown and placed it on top of the body. You watched her shudder with a choked grief, her hands pressing onto the altar to hold herself upright until she could regain her queenly composure. She then excused herself without a word, leaving you alone with the dead. 

The body in front of you was not your family, but only your king. Your own unshed tears were from the fear you felt, from the loss that would come with the inevitable civil war; you saw flashes of red from the blood to be spilled, black from the ash that would rain over the kingdoms. 

“He is even smaller in death.” 

You knew the voice, so low but it still wrenched the air from your lungs. You looked up to see your husband poised in the doorway. “It is something that comes for us all, it is inescapable,” Aemond finished, his eye now trained to you.

It seemed a murmured thought and you were uncertain if he would continue it, uncertain if the words spoken were even meant for your ears to begin with. You swallowed thickly, your throat dry from the smoke. “My husband,” your voice cracked with compassion, “I am so sorry–”

“I am not.” 

It cuts through you, halting your tongue. You watched him carefully, warily, as his lips curled upwards. “For too long I have watched him slowly wither beneath the crown handed to him by a council,” and he looked back to the altar, a bitterness brewing. “He hid behind some want for a faux peace, but only because he lacked the conviction and the spine to speak the truth.” 

His tone clipped, his smile now cruel and cutting into his cheeks as he stepped towards you with his slow, distinct gate. You remained rooted, unwilling to wilt under the weight of the harsh truth that could now be spoken out loud and without repercussions. 

You tried again: “Are you certain of this? Of her misdeeds–?”

This time your voice caught once he was close enough for his fingers to trail along the side of your face, coming to cup your cheek and hold your gaze. His palm was callused from his sword, but gentle to touch, igniting a warmth that pooled towards your core. Your eyes flickered over his smile that remained, your breath knotting in your throat as you realized how tall he now stood, as if a weight had been removed from him. 

“Ābrazȳrys,” he murmured, his hold now moving to curl behind at the base of your neck and pull you closer to him. Your hands touched his chest, falling into him and his heat, his sandalwood and smoke, the amber scent that belonged so intimately to Aemond. 

You burned from his direct attention, something you had pitifully sought after since you arrived, and it was now being handed alongside the corpse of the king. 

And it felt so wrong.

His finger curled under your chin, tilting your head back to look at him. “Perhaps if I put a babe in your belly, you can see how strong the blood of dragon truly is.” 

And yet–

“Aemond,” you gasped as his other hand moved to clasp around your elbow, pulling you closer until his mouth captured your own. 

The room swam in smoke; you felt drunk from the warmth of his lips and with the way his hands roamed your backside, pulling you flushed against his chest. You could feel the swell of his cock pressing against the seams, a heat that permeated through and spread to ignite your nerve endings. 

You sighed sweetly with how you fit against his chest and Aemond deepened the kiss with a desperation that you matched against your own volition. Your arms lifted to wrap around his neck, pulling yourself closer still, and Aemond let out a low groan, a vibration that trilled and tightened in your core. 

“Aemond, we should leave…” 

His passion would not be abated and instead his mouth claimed yours again. Aemond wrapped his arms around your waist to lift you and pull you away from the dead with staggering steps back towards the enclave of bay windows the sun streaked through. His large hands tore through your layers to touch the soft divot between your thighs, until the pads of his fingers pressed to the wet patch that was growing; he hummed. 

You broke away and his mouth then latched to the curve of your neck, biting you, marking you, his passion reborn from the tips of his teeth. You cried out from the mixture of pleasure and pain, your body betraying you with how it responded, with how it craved for more. 

You tried again: “Aemond, we mustn’t–” 

His hand caught your jaw with a hold that dimpled into your cheeks. “You must know by now that the walls are thick, as my ancestors designed them to be,” his eye looked over your kiss-swollen lips and the blood that was staining your features. “Also, the dead also cannot hear us.” 

Aemond then surged against you; you could not fight back, you would not fight back. Instead, your hands balled into his tunic to balance yourself, to return the kiss until all the air left your lungs. You felt his smile against your mouth, his arms returning to snake around your waist and guide until you fell down to the rug that covered the floor; a delicious contrast of the warmth he emitted to the cold of the cobblestone beneath you. 

He rucked your skirts up around your waist, his hand moving to pull away the small clothes intimately wrapped around before he slotted himself between your thighs. You felt his length grind against your bare cunt and you gasped, only for the sound to be swallowed with another heated kiss that seared the blood now coursing through your veins. 

Aemond paused to look down at you. His hair spilled silver in the sunlight and he watched your corset push against your cleavage, the desperate rise and fall to catch your breath. His one arm propped himself up while the other tugged away at the strings laced at his crotch; your fingers slipped into his loosened waistband, pulling it down until his cock was freed. His fingers then wrapped around his base, flushed crimson with his passion, and you nearly cried as he rubbed his swollen head along your folds, silken with your arousal.

His arms caged you and he pushed into you, filling you with his slow thrusts to fit, until he was fully sheathed within your cunt. Your lips parted wordlessly as your pleasure began to kindle with the slow roll of his hips, something that spread towards the ends and returned to build within your core. 

You mewled as his paced quickened, the wet sounds of bare skin suctioning as he fucked you into the rug, bruising your backside against the stone with each snap of his hips; you lifted to cant your own, welcoming the bruising pace. You were breathless, your walls fluttering with the first waves of pleasure coiling tightly at the base of your spine.

“Touch yourself,” he rasped, his breath hot against the curve of your neck.

You hand moved between with a fumbling touch to your pearl, swollen and wet and wanting. The pressure was enough to elicit another cry from you, the tears pearling earlier now spilling. Aemond saw this with the black that possessed his eye and his head dipped to lick your tears; his murmured, “Sȳz ābrazȳrys,” scorching against your skin.

It burst forth with flashes of white, a euphoria brimming on too much as his pace continued, until he was spilling and pulsing within your velvet walls. His weight then rested against you, his head turning to place a sweet kiss to your neck before he pulled away to stand, reaching to bring you back onto unsteady feet. 

You swayed a moment and he grabbed you, waiting until you met with his stare. Your eyes were wet as they rolled from him and took in your surroundings; you let out a shaky exhale when you saw the body that had been prepared. 

Aemond let go to tuck himself away and then stepped to block your view. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your hairline; your lashes were clumped together from your tears shed, wet against your cheeks when you closed your eyes, savoring the softness of his lips. 

“We will win,” his confidence now laced his low tone. He repeated: “Do not worry, we will win.” 

And then he left you alone with the dead, with nothing but the remnant pulsing sensation of the pleasure he took, his pearly spend now spilling down between the insides of your legs. 

Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @sylasthegrim @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowprincesa1 @officerbrowneyes

arcie's masterlist

[eggsaladstain]

cannot stop laughing at the thought of kaz brekker going abroad chasing a big payday only to end up embroiled in a civil war in a country he doesn’t give a shit about facing off against shadow monsters and countless other horrors way above his pay grade with essentially a long stick for a weapon

genuinely the trailer is so fucking funny because you have alina flexing her powers and shooting light out of her hands and inej twirling her blades and jesper shooting with deadly precision and wylan with his big flashy explosives and matthias looking jacked in an mma fight and then there’s kaz just wailing on some dudes with his cane and swinging it around like a baseball bat

[midnight-bay-if]

"If silence claims the waters of Midnight Bay, death has come to stay."

"Every day, I miss him, and every day, I’m scared that I’ll miss him less. That one day, I’ll wake up, and I won’t remember how his hair would stick up in odd angles in the morning or how black he liked his coffee. That the bedtime stories he would read me before bed no longer guide my morals nor parse their wisdom in his voice..."

If you ask me why I still seek revenge, this is what I'll say: I will not forget.

Because nothing could be more terrifying than the idea of time passing without my father's death having any justice or resolution, and years down the line, I’ll be sitting in this diner with you, but we won’t be talking about my dad at all anymore."

Come on. Let's kill the killer.

Demo: Out Now (45,000) words.

Simon/Simone [f/m] Task Force Leader. Human Simon/Simone comes from a wealthy family with a long history of government service and civil partnerships. Simon/Simone is somewhat of a black sheep and is estranged from a large portion of their family. After a bout of teenage rebellion, Simon/Simone find themselves enlisted in the military to ‘correct’ their behaviour. However, with a penchant for leadership and a tactician's mind, they are recruited by a strange, secretive organisation with questionable goals.

After two more victims of 'The Bay Slasher' are found discarded on the bay, Simon/Simone drives themselves and their team into town, on orders from their mysterious higher-ups, ready to put away this killer for good. But cases such as these are never simple, and even more so with a far too clever and far too perceptive P.I. hot on their heels.

Rain [non-binary] The Mediator. Supernatural type; Pixie Rain grew up in a very wet biome of the world associated with fairies, pixies and elementals. After a great conflict, Rain was practically herded into the arms of a greater power, who guided them into the arms of Simon/Simone, who became their new leader.

When Simon/Simone tells them that one day, they will be going to the practically derelict town of Albach Bay to catch a dangerous killer, they shrug, smile, and pack their bags without a second thought. It doesn't take long for them to realise this isn't a typical case, even by their standards.

Taj [f/m] The Infiltrator. Supernatural type: Qita Taj is part of an ever-shrinking community hidden well in the Egyptian underbellies. Qita are a humanoid cat race native to Egypt and were once revered by humans at the dawn of their civilisation. However, that reverence began to fizzle out when a greater power, deciding their people had become too powerful,

After a great conflict, Taj is captured and 'recruited' to join a mysterious organisation dedicating themselves to maintaining balance. Taj is ultimately led to Simon/Simone and becomes the final member of their specialised team. Showing great resistance at first, eventually, Taj learns to accept and respect Simon/Simone, so when their leader declares they are to travel to the backwater town of Albach Bay, well... Taj comes along. Though not without reluctance.

Nazu/Naera [f/m] Supernatural type: Demon Nazu/Naera is a demon prince/princess from Hael. During a terrible conflict, their great power was muzzled as punishment for their part in the war. They've been seeking the people responsible so they can regain the power they lost.

Their search has lasted more than a decade, but now... Now they find themselves in a small, human town where sin oozes from every shadow, beckoning every passer-by to partake in its debauchery. To top it off? They can hear their power singing to them. It's close. Heh... They might even end up liking it here.

Umbra [f/m] Supernatural type: ??? Umbra is an anomaly. Nothing about them is real. None of it should exist. Every facet of their being has been strung together out of sheer will and barely held together by a thread. One wrong touch and they may fall apart, like unravelling a ball of yarn or pulling apart a puppet on a string.

So, why? Why do they exist? Simple.

They exist for you.

RO's appearances:

Simon: Broad-shouldered, athletic build with reasonably short black hair and light warm skin. He has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Simone: Athletic build with long black hair (typically pinned up) and light, warm skin. She has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Rain: They have a slim, petite build with flawless tawny skin, which is amplified by their pale blue hair and matching pale eyes. They tend to opt for a more colourful wardrobe in the pastel range.

Taj (male): He has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark, curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. His ears and tail are matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (He keeps them hidden underneath his clothes, which are often oversized to hide this face.) He also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking his body.

Taj (female): She has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. Her ears and tail are a matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (She keeps them hidden underneath her clothes.) She also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking her body.

Nazu: (As a human)He is very built with dark skin, which ensures his almost luminescent amber eyes stand out. His long, dark dreads are usually pulled up in a bun. Nazu tends to opt for clothes designed to tantalise, as well as show off the hair dusting his chest and arms.

When in his usual form, he also has large horns that curl out of his head, with a more reddish hue to his dark skin. Plus, the whites of his eyes will turn black.

Naera: (As a human) She is very curvy, opting instead to amplify her femininity in human form. Her dark skin ensures her luminescent amber eyes stand out. Her long, dark hair is in tight braids that flow down her back. Naera will opt for clothing designed to tantalise, teasing her assets in a flirty way.

When in her usual form, her horns curl out of her head, with a reddish hue to her dark skin. Plus, the whites of her eyes will turn black.

Umbra (male): Tall and lean build with black shoulder-length hair that contrasts against his pale, almost ghostly skin. He tends to have dark circles under his equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through his left brow. His clothing usually consists of a black leather jacket, black pants and black combat boots.

Umbra (female): Tall and slim build with long black hair, half up in a pony, that contrasts against her pale, almost ghostly skin. She tends to have dark circles under her equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through her left brow. Her clothing usually includes a black leather jacket, plaid skirt and black combat boots.

An urban fantasy/romance IF based in the fictional town of 'Albach Bay'.

Customise your private investigator: choose name, gender, appearance, sexuality, skill set and personality.

Play as male, female, or non-binary: straight, gay, bisexual, pansexual, as well as aromantic, asexual, or aro-ace.

Late 90s setting with limited technology, so be prepared to wait ten minutes for your PC to boot up.

Roleplay your private investigator how you want to. My intention is no 'game over' screens. There are no wrong answers in this game.

5 main companions to befriend or romance, each with their own personalities and stories to tell.

Collect evidence in your notebook as you scour the dilapidated streets and beaches of Albach Bay for clues to finally catch your father's killer for good.

Revenge is best served cold.

Rated 18+

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part two)

Steve Rogers x f!reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve tries to settle into his life in the 50s, and we get a glimpse of the days when Steve and the reader were getting to know each other post Civil War.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Steve beginning to regret his decision (he just won't admit it yet), the NSFW stuff won't happen until after a whiiiile, this is a slow burn (y'all can blame Steve!!)

word count : <2k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist

The 1950s, one month after Steve's arrival

Peggy knows about you. It doesn't take her long to figure it out. What started out as the mystery figure her partner seems to be so wistful over - as time passes, the idea of you becomes stronger.

It takes shape, like you are not just a memory to be gotten over.

You're there, in their very walls, but you're not. Of all the people Steve left behind, your shadow looms the strongest over him.

"She must have been special, Steve. She sounded like a very dear friend," Peggy expresses, one morning over breakfast when they were going through the people in Steve's future.

Past, to be more apt. All those people are no longer going to be a part of Steve's days. You no longer will be.

He thought he would be fine with it all, treating it like the end of a book. This is his fresh start with Peggy, a chance to simply live his life without constant threat of impending doom.

That apple pie, white picket fence, American dream. He wants to have a son and a daughter. Maybe he'll even name them after you and James.

The two most important people in his life then, reflected in the children whom will be his reason for existence.

Everything should be just perfect.

So why isn't it?

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2017, eight months after the Avengers' Civil War

Being on the run was brutal, but familiar.

A year ago, you were made to choose between the two sides in the Sokovia accords, after your old friend Natasha pulled you out of your over extended holiday.

She wanted you to join her side, Tony's side. They could use all the help they can get to fight Captain America who apparently had gone rogue.

Little did she know that you would end up fighting with him instead, after you found out what his motivations were.

After the war, yourself and all those who acted against the accords were branded enemies of the state. Incidentally, this included Nat, who also had a change of heart.

Captain America - Steve - broke you out of a maximum security prison, and you all branched out in different parts of the world to go into hiding.

At first, you and Nat went to her safehouse in Budapest. Then to one of your apartments in Malta. Eventually, you had to separate to keep the trail cold, and to confuse anyone at your tail.

Which is how you ended up in some remote cabin in Alaska with none other than Steve himself.

And you got to know each other really well.

He was closed off at first, maintaining a sense of cordiality that must come as second nature to him. It was evident that the Civil War took a toll on him. He had an anger, a resentment about him that wasn't there when you first came across him in Romania. When you decided to cross over and aid in his cause.

For the first few weeks, he kept his distance, merely keeping up with what's required of a fellow lodger on the run. He made sure there was hot coffee left for you when he brewed a fresh batch. He was always quiet in his room across the hall. He would say his polite good mornings, his how are yous, before taking his daily walk in the woods, scouting the area for any potential anomalies.

It took a while before he stopped being just Captain America in your eyes, but inevitably, you grew to know Steve Rogers.

And you came to fall in love with him. But you didn't admit this until much, much later.

You're not sure which one of you broke first, but eventually the polite, little greetings turned into breakfast conversations, eventually incorporating comfortable inside jokes.

You discovered that he had a myriad of questions about your chosen life, how you ended up working for The Agency. Much like the Red Room but without any ties to a particular government, The Agency specialized in producing highly-skilled individuals when it comes to combat and covert operations.

For a while, it was your MO to make sure that the widows were unsuccessful in their missions which involved civilian casualties. So you first encountered Nat when the Red Room gave her the task to take you out, but you were too wily and evaded her at every turn.

At some point, and to both yours and her surprise, you actually ended up becoming friends.

You could tell that Steve was holding back in commenting on your choice of profession, but he wasn't really in any position to judge - America's former poster boy turned into their number one fugitive. He wanted to suggest that perhaps there was a better life out there suited for you, one that didn't require you to constantly look behind your shoulder.

But how could he? You were there because of him. In a way, his rebellion pulled you out of your momentary pocket of paradise.

You told him you had retired before Nat called you in, but of course that wouldn't have lasted long. One way or another, you always found yourself back in.

Like you were craving it, almost. Or because you had nothing else but this life. This was your normal.

"What do you think it would look like, if you actually had a shot at normal?" he asked, the glowing embers of the fireplace dancing shadows across his face.

You observed him, and you couldn't help but note how impossibly good he still looked even with his facial hair unkempt and grown out. "What I think it would really look like, or what I would want it to be?"

The corner of his lips raise at your statement. You were right. For both you and him, what you want is almost never what you can get. "Either way," he shrugged.

"Well," you paused. You knew you were stalling, but you didn't really know what to say. "I guess... there was a time when I used to want the normal life. You know - a partner, kids, a lakeside house with a nice backyard, maybe a dog."

"What kind of dog?" he asked suddenly, distracting you.

"Oh, uhm, I like German Shepherds."

He smiled, "I like them too."

That one remark was enough to make your imagination run wild. He likes them too, he said. What must it be like to be with Steve, to live in a lakeside house with him? Enough, you quickly reminded yourself, stop before you get hurt.

You must have been staring at him then, because he casted a gentle glance at you, saying, "Keep going."

You found yourself continuing with more ease, "I never really had a whole family. Only lived with my parents for a time, didn't have any siblings. So when - if, and that's a big if - I do have kids, I'd want more than one. So they would always have each other, you see."

When you looked back at him, his blue eyes were arresting, almost like they're boring right into you. Captain America is trying to get a good read on you, and you feel like you're laid bare before him. But it's not a discomforting feeling.

Maybe it's just the effect Steve has on people. Or maybe it's you. You weren't ready to accept just how much you already took a liking to the Captain America. You just knew - it would not end well.

These things never do.

But then he said, "When you do manage to have all of that, will you send me a postcard? Let me know how you are?"

Your smile widened at his sincerity. He wasn't just playing along, indulging in what you think are just delusions. He actually meant it. "Steve, you'll always be welcome at our lakeside house, you know."

"Our?" he smirked.

"Yeah, well," you leaned back at his implication, but his expression is enough to warm you all over. "I... I meant, mine and my partner's or... mine and my dog's, I don't really know - "

He laughed lowly, the sound hearty and deep in his chest. "I understand what you mean," he said, before adding, "although, I definitely wouldn't mind sharing a lakeside house with you."

"And my dog," you added jokingly, but your pulse had already quickened.

He nodded, but he wasn't finished. "Could be my dog, too." You don't know whether to be grateful or disappointed that he didn't say, and our kids. Grateful, you decided. It had to be that. You were getting too ahead of yourself.

You agreed, playing along, "As long as I get to name him."

"Of course, doll."

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The 1950s, two months after Steve's arrival

Steve decides that he would get a dog.

It's about time, he believes. He's always wanted to do so anyway, and what better time than now, when he is settled in a good home base with a lot of backyard space for the dog to roam around.

He wants to get a German Shepherd, and it's fine, because Peggy does not really have a preference.

It is the evening before he is scheduled to visit the animal shelter, when Peggy asks him if he has decided on a name for the dog.

He startles at that, looking up from his plate. He barely registers her hand that has been caressing his own throughout dinner. Steve, being Steve, immediately feels ashamed at how he doesn't seem to be present and appreciating the moment.

"Have you thought of a name?" Peggy tries again.

A name, he ponders. No, he always thought he would leave it up to you.

"I'll figure it out," he says after a while, taking Peggy's hand and bringing it to his lips.

Everything will be perfect.

Read part three here.

taglist: @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan

caution: this is will be the slowest burn, and even MORE angsty when things come to a head.

the next chapter will be from the reader's POV and how she's coping...

Are all of these dog shenanigans alluding to how the reader will walk Stevie boy like a dog??? *evil, maniacal laugh*

Taglist still open!

[cherriecove]

A New Dawn

Alicent Hightower x M!Reader

Summary: With the Hightower plot to place Aegon on the thrown a failure, Queen Rhaenyra finds herself unsure with what she should do with her old-friend. After some consideration she decides to remarry Alicent to her Hand, a man she trusts wholeheartedly, this of course upsets Alicent who belived her marital duties died when her husband did. Cherrie's Notes: This was a request that i really loved the idea of! Would like to apologiese in advance becasue this is so long I changed some things slightly but not too much. This is the first time I am writing a male reader and although there is no real description i hope it is satsfactory! There are so many words im sorry i got carried away! Masterlist

The bells of King’s Landing tolled in the early dawn, marking the end of one era and the uncertain beginning of another. With the death of King Viserys I, Queen Rhaenyra had ascended to the Iron Throne, securing her rightful place as ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, the victory was bittersweet, marred by treachery and near civil war. Alicent Hightower, Viserys’ widow and mother to Rhaenyra’s half-siblings, stood on the losing side. Her father’s ambitious plot to place Aegon on the throne had failed, and the Greens' hold on power was shattered.

Now, Rhaenyra ruled over a fractured court, her mercy the only thing keeping Alicent and her children alive. Otto Hightower, once the most powerful man in the realm, rotted in the dungeons. He was still scheming, still whispering plans of future influence, and Alicent found herself torn between loyalty to her father and a growing desire for peace.

Though Rhaenyra was urged to imprison or execute both Alicent and Otto, she hesitated. Old bonds of friendship still lingered in her heart, even if they had been buried beneath years of betrayal and political manoeuvring. In this delicate balance, you—Rhaenyra’s loyal Hand—offered a solution.

“If you wish Lady Alicent to live freely, Your Grace, then perhaps she should be placed under the care of someone you trust implicitly,” you had said, knowing full well the weight of such a suggestion.

“And who might that be?” Rhaenyra asked, her eyes searching yours with a knowing look.

You held her gaze. “Your Hand, Your Grace. I can see to it that she remains free but under close supervision.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened into a sly smile. “Then you shall marry her.”

The queen’s words struck you as sharply as they did Alicent when she was informed of the arrangement. It was the last thing she expected. After all these years, she had thought herself done with marriage, with the expectations and duties thrust upon her. The mere thought of submitting again, of being bound by obligation, made her heart ache. 

Yet on the day of the wedding Alicent stood before the sept, her hands clasped tightly, the weight of the world resting on her slender shoulders. The vows echoed around her like a distant murmur, a ceremony that held little meaning for her heart. She barely glanced at you, her brown eyes, once so bright and commanding, now distant and guarded.

This was not the life she had envisioned. After Viserys’ death, she had assumed her time as queen was over, that she would fade into the shadows, left to a quiet existence without further demands. The idea of marrying again, especially to someone with no ambition, no thirst for power, had seemed almost unreal to her.

Yet here she was.

The thought of being bound to another man filled her with dread. Despite your reputation for loyalty and honour, she couldn't help but fear what this union might become. Marriage, in her experience, had always been about duty, submission, and control. The idea of yielding herself once more, her body and will, to another man’s authority terrified her. This marriage felt like a new prison, different from the gilded cage Viserys had kept her in, but a cage nonetheless.

On the night after your wedding, Alicent retreated to her chambers, her heart a swirl of confusion and bitterness. She had braced herself for what she assumed would come next—a knock at her door, a quiet but insistent demand to fulfil the duties of a wife. Viserys had not been cruel, but he had expected certain things from her, things she had learned to accept despite her reluctance. She feared history would repeat itself, that you too would seek an heir, another way to secure this alliance.

But you surprised her.

There was no knock. No intrusion. The silence of her chambers stretched into the night, uninterrupted by any demand or expectation. The following night passed in the same manner, and the one after that. You did not come to her room, did not impose yourself upon her. Instead, you gave her space, a freedom she had not anticipated. It unsettled her at first, the lack of pressure, but slowly, she began to breathe easier.

You treated her with respect, never asking for more than she was willing to give. You allowed her to visit her father in the dungeons, though under strict guard. Each visit left her feeling more conflicted than ever, as Otto, ever the schemer, continued to urge her to find ways to manipulate you, to regain some of the power she had lost. Yet, despite his machinations, you remained distant from those games, patient and steady.

One evening, after another tense meeting with her father, Alicent returned to your chambers, her face drawn and her steps hesitant. She hovered at the threshold, her fingers curling around the door frame. You sat by the fire, a book in hand, your features calm and focused. The warmth of the flames cast soft shadows on the room, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her.

“I need to speak with you,” she said quietly.

You looked up, closing the book and setting it aside. “Of course. Come in.”

She stepped inside but did not sit, her voice low and uncertain. “My father… he’s still trying to use me. He wants me to manipulate you, to influence Rhaenyra’s decisions. He believes I can sway you.”

You didn’t react with surprise, nor with anger. Instead, you simply nodded, as if you had already expected this. “Thank you for telling me.”

Alicent exhaled, her shoulders sagging slightly with relief. “I don’t want to be used anymore. Not by him. Not by anyone.”

You stood, your expression soft but serious, and approached her with a deliberate slowness, careful not to make her feel cornered. “Alicent, you are not under anyone’s control now—not your father’s, not mine, not anyone’s. I won’t let him use you, and I won’t treat you like a pawn in his or anyone’s schemes.”

She looked up at you, her guarded expression flickering with something close to disbelief. “You… you truly mean that?”

“I do,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “I never wanted this marriage for power or gain. I have no interest in forcing anything upon you—marital duty or otherwise.I don’t expect anything of you that you’re not willing to give.”

She blinked, her lips parting in surprise. The firelight danced across her face, casting shadows that highlighted the tension in her features. For a moment, there was silence—unspoken words hanging in the air between you, an understanding growing in the space that had long been empty.

Finally, Alicent spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "You... don't want anything from me? Not even—" She hesitated, her words stuck in her throat leading you to shake your head gently. "No," you said, your tone calm. "I don’t expect that from you, unless that is something you desire.” 

Alicent’s brow furrowed, a mix of confusion and hesitation clouding her eyes. “But we are wed,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Isn’t it… isn’t it your right to expect me to fulfil my duty? Is that not what this union is meant to be?”

Your gaze softened as you stepped closer, but still you remained careful not to approach too quickly. “You are not a vessel for duty, Alicent,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “You are a person, not a means to an end. We are married because it is the only way to allow you peace, and to give our realm stability. Anything within our marriage is based on because you desire it—because we decide it together. Not because you’re bound to some obligation.” 

Alicent stared at you for a long moment, as though searching for something deeper beneath your words. Perhaps a hidden motive, a secret ambition. But all she saw was sincerity. There was no calculated manipulation, no power-hungry intent in your eyes.

Her hand fluttered to her chest, her fingers absently tracing the fine embroidery of her gown. “I never thought… I never thought I’d be free from such burdens,” she whispered. “Not like this.”

You offered her a soft smile, a reassuring one. “Then let’s make this work in a way that brings you peace. I know that it might take time for you to believe that.”

She nodded slowly, as if the weight of your words was beginning to settle. And though she remained distant, there was a subtle shift—a crack in the walls she had built around herself. You didn’t want her to be caged, not even in the gilded prison of a marriage. You wanted her to feel free to breathe, to live her life on her own terms.

In the days that followed, your quiet respect for her space became apparent. She had come to your chambers less frequently, yet when she did, you never pressed her for anything more than conversation or companionship. The two of you would sit together, occasionally exchanging stories of the past, speaking of times before the chaos that had defined both your lives.

One afternoon, as the sun cast long shadows across the chamber, you and Alicent found yourselves engaged in a quiet conversation by the window. The room was filled with a soft, golden light, and for once, it felt peaceful—unnaturally so, in the midst of the court’s usual tumult.

“Do you ever miss it?” she asked, looking out at the gardens below, where the birds fluttered amongst the flowers.

“Miss what?” you asked, your gaze following hers.

“The life before all of this,” she said, her hand resting on the windowsill. “The days before the schemes, the plotting, the weight of responsibility.”

You leaned back against the wall, your gaze drifting to the same view she saw. “I miss the simplicity of it,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t trade the peace I have now for it. The quiet moments like this. The stillness.”

Alicent was silent for a while, as though considering what you had said. Finally, she turned to face you, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You find peace in the simplest of things, don’t you?”

“I try to,” you said softly. “It’s the only way to survive in a world like ours.”

She nodded, though her eyes were filled with an uncertainty that had yet to fully leave her. For years, she had been used to a life filled with turmoil, her mind constantly burdened with the weight of others’ expectations. To be here, in this moment, with a man who did not want to control her, who did not demand anything of her, was a strange feeling—one she had not yet fully understood.

In time, as the days passed, your actions proved your sincerity. You allowed her to breathe, to make her own choices, while still offering her the safety of your protection. You never pressured her, never tried to push her into a role she did not want. And with each passing day, the distance between you lessened, even if only by a fraction.

The Small Council meetings had become more tense ever since your marriage to Alicent. The lords who sat at the table were no fools—they knew the weight of such a union. Whispers circulated through the court that you could no longer be impartial, that your marriage to the widow of the late king would compromise your loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra.

One such meeting came to a head when Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, leaned forward across the table, his brow furrowed. "You have served the queen faithfully for many years, Hand," he began, his voice deep and steady, "but now you are bound to a Hightower. Can we be certain your loyalties remain with the crown, rather than the family that sought to usurp it?"

Eyes turned to you, waiting for your response. The room was heavy with unspoken accusations, but you met them head-on, calm and unflinching.

"My loyalty has always been, and will always remain, with Queen Rhaenyra and the realm," you replied, your voice steady but firm. "I did not marry Lady Alicent for ambition or power. I married her because it was the Queen’s will, to keep the peace and ensure stability. If anyone here doubts my impartiality, let me assure you—my actions have always been for the good of the realm, not for the ambitions of any one family, including my own."

Lord Corlys, while still sceptical, leaned back in his chair, considering your words. The others exchanged glances, but no further accusations were made. Still, you could feel the lingering doubt, the tension in the air. It was a challenge you would have to face repeatedly as long as your marriage remained a topic of interest.

After the meeting, Rhaenyra sought you out, her brow furrowed. "They are suspicious of you," she said quietly, her eyes searching yours for any sign of resentment.

"They have reason to be," you admitted, not denying the reality. "But I will not betray you, my Queen. My marriage to Alicent does not change that."

Rhaenyra smiled, though faintly, and nodded. "I believe you. And that is all that matters to me."

While the realm questioned your loyalty, another tension brewed between you and Alicent. Though you had grown closer, there were still moments when her insecurities resurfaced, especially regarding her role as your wife.

One night, as the two of you sat in your chambers, she turned to you, her voice quiet but strained. “Do you expect me to give you an heir?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I know I am still of childbearing age. You must expect children from me.”

You looked at her, surprised by the question. “Alicent, I do not expect that of you,” you said softly, setting aside the parchment you had been reviewing. “I married you because it was necessary for peace, not because I desired heirs.”

She frowned, her brow furrowed. “Then what do you want from me?”

You sighed, stepping closer but keeping your tone gentle. “What I want is for you to feel free. If you wish to have children, then that is your choice, not mine. But if you do not, I will not hold it against you. I am content to leave my titles to others—your children, or perhaps my nieces and nephews. My duty is to the realm, and to you, as my wife. Not to some legacy of blood."

Her eyes softened, surprise evident in her expression. “You are… different,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Not like the men I’ve known before.”

You offered a small smile. “Is that a good thing?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. It is.”

Over time, the relationship between you and Alicent deepened. Though it was not a marriage of passion, it became one of companionship. You spent evenings together, discussing matters of the realm or simply sharing stories from your past. Occasionally, she would speak of her children—her love for them, her fears for their futures—and you would listen, never judging, always offering comfort.

One evening, as you sat by the fire, Alicent glanced at you, her expression soft. “You’ve always been kind to me,” she said quietly. “Even when I didn’t expect it.”

You met her gaze, your voice gentle. “You deserve more than kindness, Alicent. You deserve peace. And if I can give you that, then I will.”

She smiled—a rare, genuine smile—and for the first time in many years, she felt a warmth she had long since thought lost. The heavy burden of her past was slowly lifting, thanks to the quiet strength and respect you had shown her.

As the months passed, Alicent grew more at ease in her new life. The tension between you eased, replaced by a mutual understanding and trust. She no longer feared manipulation or control, and you respected her autonomy in a way no man had before.

One afternoon, as you both walked through the gardens of the Red Keep, she turned to you with a soft smile. “I never thought I would find peace in marriage again,” she said, her voice light but sincere. “But with you… it feels different. It feels… free.”

You smiled in return, warmth filling your chest. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

For the first time in years, Alicent felt as though she was no longer a pawn in someone else’s game. She was finally allowed to live her own life, with a man who valued her not for her name or her power, but for who she was.

And in that, she had found something she never thought possible—contentment. A new dawn had come, for both of you.

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Where Kings Land

Part 1

Jacaerys Velaryon x Stark! Reader

a.n: I finally get the hype about Jace. This right here is one fine man. the hair, the freckles, the big nose. ALL of it. this is part 1 of the miniseries for House of the Dragon, and it's my first time writing outside of the regular asoiaf series. Enjoy and please lmk what you think!!

Warnings: manipulation, not proofread, yelling, cursing? talk of beheading and treason.

Word Count: 4,900

masterlist link

summary: In the harsh lands of the North, where winter's bite is ever-present, a tale of duty, desire, and deception unfolds within the ancient walls of Winterfell. Y/N Stark, sister to the absent Lord Cregan, finds herself caught in a web of political intrigue as the realm teeters on the brink of civil war.

...

The heavy wooden door slammed behind her with a resounding thud, echoing through the granite corridors of Winterfell. Y/n Stark—sister to the Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark—strode purposefully down the hallway, her frustration evident in every step. The torches lining the walls cast flickering shadows across her face, highlighting the furrow of her brow. She yanked her fur cloak tighter around her shoulders, warding off the perpetual chill that seeped through the ancient stones. The servants scurried out of her path, lowering their eyes as she passed. Y/n barely noticed them, her mind occupied with the litany of tasks that lay before her. The castle, a sprawling behemoth of grey stone and timber, was a living, breathing entity, and Y/n felt the weight of its responsibilities press down on her.

Cregan, her brother, was a warrior, a leader born to the battlefield. He thrived on the thrill of the hunt, the clash of steel, the shouts of battle. The day-to-day running of Winterfell, the endless paperwork, the constant negotiations, the delicate dance of alliances and diplomacy… these fell upon his shoulders. He was a silent force, a steady hand guiding the ship through the turbulent seas of politics and power.

Reaching the grand hall, Y/n paused, her gaze sweeping over the gathered lords and ladies. Their conversations buzzed like a hive of bees, their laughter echoing off the vaulted ceiling. She longed to be amongst them, to share in the joy of a feast, to ease the burden of her thoughts, but the weight of the impending winter hung heavy on her heart.

The biting wind whipped around Y/n's face as she ascended the final steps to the maester's tower. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and old magic, a familiar and comforting aroma despite its inherent chill. Inside, the room was bathed in the soft glow of a single lantern, casting long shadows across the piles of scrolls and tomes that littered the floor. Y/n's boots clicked against the stone floor, a sharp counterpoint to the rustle of the raven that perched on the window sill, its beady eyes fixed on her with an unsettling intelligence. The bird was a harbinger of news, always, and today, its arrival had filled her with a sense of foreboding dread.

“You've got ravens in your hair,” the maester, Alyn, said with a dry chuckle, his voice raspy from years of whispering secrets into ancient texts. He was a frail figure, his fingers gnarled and stained with ink, his eyes filled with a wisdom that seemed to encompass the entirety of the world. She brushed at her hair, dislodging a stray feather that had become entangled in its braids. 'They know I'm coming for them,' she said, her voice tight. 'They always seem to.'

Alyn nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes. 'King's Landing sends more than its fair share of worries north,' he said, gesturing to the table in the centre of the room. It was an imposing piece, carved from ancient oak, the surface groaning under the weight of a mountain of sealed parchments. Y/n sighed, letting the weight of the responsibility settle upon her shoulders. Every one of those scrolls contained a new burden, a new demand, a new headache she would have to unravel. The North had always been harsh, a land of unforgiving winters and fiercer people.

'What's the news, maester?' she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Alyn shuffled through the pile of scrolls, his gaze searching for a particular one. “They're now threatening us with dragon fire, my lady,” he stated solemnly, the chain around his neck clinking softly.

Y/n's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the pile of letters that lay on the table before her. Her jaw clenched, her anger rising like a tide. “Burn them,” she commanded, her voice sharp and decisive. “Burn all the letters. We will not answer, nor will we cower.”

Alyn's eyebrows rose in surprise, but Y/n's resolve only grew stronger. “Prince Jacaerys should be here any day. We will make good with the Blacks.”

Maester Alyn leaned back in his chair, studying her face. 'Are you certain, my lady? This is a dangerous game we play. The Green's dragons—"

“Are no more fearsome than the winter that forged us,” Y/n cut him off. She moved to the window, gazing out over the frost-covered courtyard. “My brother may be in the north of the Wall, but we will not be cowed by southern threats.”

Her words echoed through the frigid halls, carrying with them a resolute determination that belied her youth. “You are right, my lady,” he said at last.

Y/n turned to him, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Maester Alyn. Please, have the letters burned. We must prepare for the prince's arrival. We’ll show him true Northern hospitality. And maester," she added, a hint of a smile playing at her lips, "make sure we have plenty of that strong northern ale. We'll need it for the toast when we pledge our support to Queen Rhaenyra."

Maester Alyn nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reached for the candle on his desk, ready to carry out her orders. "As you wish, my lady. there's one more," he said softly, holding out a sealed parchment. "It arrived separately... and it's addressed to you personally."

Y/n hesitated, then took the letter. The seal bore the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, but something about it seemed different. More... personal. With a swift motion, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes scanned the contents, and her face hardened.

"It's from Aegon," she said, her voice tight. She began to read aloud:

"My dearest y/n,

The silence between us cuts like shards of Valyrian steel, slicing through my soul. Do you remember the stolen moments in the godswood, under the watchful eyes of the old gods? The promises we made beneath the heart tree?I await your reply to our ravens with bated breath, much as I once awaited your stolen glances across the great hall.

But make no mistake, my white wolf. Your beauty will not shield the North from my wrath should you choose wrongly. Aemond grows impatient and Vhagar hungers for blood. With one word, we could reduce Winterfell to nothing but ash and bone.

Remember this, my sweetling: fire destroys ice. And dragons do not forgive.

Choose wisely. Choose me.

Yours in fire and blood, Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm"

y/n’s hand shook as she finished reading, her knuckles white where she gripped the parchment. The maester watched her, concern etched on his weathered face.

"My lady," he began cautiously, "what—"

"Burn it," Y/n interrupted, her voice cold as the Wall itself. "Burn it with the rest." She tossed the letter onto the pile, her eyes blazing with a fury to match any dragon's flame.

…

Amidst the icy grip of the winter, the last traces of sunlight had long since disappeared beyond the horizon when a thunderous beating of dragon wings shattered the bleak silence. Y/n stood in Winterfell's snowy courtyard, her chilled breath leaving clouds in the frigid air as she looked up to witness the dark shape descending from the sky.

With ethereal grace surprising for its size, the dragon landed with a resounding thud and steam rising from its scales as they met the frosty ground. As its rider dismounted, y/n found herself frozen in place, her carefully prepared greeting dying on her lips.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon strode towards her, his Valyrian features softened by Stark coloring. Dark curls framed his face, windswept from the flight. But it was his eyes that caught y/n off guard - soft and kind, yet holding a depth that spoke of burdens she had yet to find out.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away. Y/n's heart raced as she stood before the prince, a stranger yet somehow familiar. She couldn't explain the sudden pull she felt towards him, as if they shared a connection beyond words. But at the same time, fear and doubt crept in, questioning if this was all just a dream or a cruel trick of fate.

Jacaerys approached, his movements as graceful as the dragon he rode. His brow furrowed slightly at her silence. He glanced around, perhaps wondering if he'd made some misstep. Finally, he bowed low, breaking the spell. "Lady Stark," he said, his voice a low, warm timbre that sent a shiver down her spine. " I am honored to meet you. And I thank you for your hospitality."

Y/n blinked, suddenly aware of the eyes of the entire courtyard upon them. She straightened, pulling her mask of cool composure back into place. "Prince Jacaerys," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Winterfell welcomes you. Please, come inside where it's warm. We have much to discuss."

As she turned to lead him into the castle, Y/n caught the prince studying her with curiosity. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a challenging look of her own. Whatever this feeling was, she couldn't afford to let it distract her. The fate of the North hung in the balance.

Yet as they walked, she couldn't help but be acutely aware of his presence just behind her, like the warmth of a flame at her back in the cold northern night.

…

The Brown Room lived up to its name, with rich walnut paneling and fur-draped chairs that spoke of comfort in the face of long northern nights. Y/N led Jacaerys inside, the scent of beeswax candles and old parchment greeting them. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the cluttered table where ledgers and letters vied for space.

Y/N gestured to a high-backed chair. "Please, sit," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. She reached for a decanter, the crystal cool against her fingers. "Would you care for some wine, my Lord? It's a Dornish red – my favorite one."

Jacaerys settled into the chair, his eyes roaming the room before settling on Y/N. "Thank you, my lady. And please, call me Jace."

As she poured, a drop of wine escaped, staining the cuff of her sleeve crimson. Y/N barely noticed, too aware of Jace's proximity, the warmth radiating from him in the cool room.

"What did you wish to discuss, my lady?" Jace broached softly, accepting the goblet with a nod of thanks.

Suddenly, the room felt stifling. Y/N's heavy fur cloak, a necessity in Winterfell's drafty halls, now seemed unbearable. She shed it, draping it over the tall oak chair behind her. The firelight caught the silver direwolf clasp as it settled.

"Our support," Y/N replied, forcing herself to meet Jace's gaze. His eyes, she noticed, were flecked with gold in the candlelight. She swallowed hard and continued, "We have two thousand men. Strong northern fighters. We call them Winter Wolves."

Jace leaned forward, interest piqued. "Winter Wolves? An apt name, I'd wager."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile. "Indeed. They're as fierce as their namesake and twice as loyal." She moved to the table, rifling through the papers until she found a particular map. As she spread it out, the familiar scent of ink and parchment helped ground her.

"Here," she pointed, "is where we've gathered them. They await only my brother's word - or mine, in his absence."

Jace stood, moving to study the map. His arm brushed Y/N's as he leaned in, and she caught a whiff of leather and something else - perhaps the lingering scent of dragon scales. Jacaerys studied the map closely, tracing his fingers over the different markings and symbols. He was impressed by the precision and detail of the Winter Wolves' gathering points.

"Your brother must be a formidable leader to have gathered such a force in such a short time," Jace remarked, straightening up and turning to face Y/N.

"Yes, he is," Y/N said with pride.

"This is... more than we dared hope for," Jace admitted, his voice low and warm.

Outside, a wolf howled in the distance, a lonely sound that seemed to echo Y/N's inner turmoil. She squared her shoulders, pushing away the unwelcome feelings. Jace's brow furrowed as he studied Y/N's face. "My lady, are you well? You seem... flushed."

Y/N startled, realizing she'd been staring. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, painfully aware of the dampness at her temples. "I'm fine, my- Jace," she corrected herself. "I was... under the weather a few days ago. Nothing serious."

Jace's eyes softened with concern. Jace's hand hovers near Y/N's elbow, his fingers poised as if ready to reach out and catch her. She can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, and she can sense the electricity between them, even though he's not quite touching her. "Perhaps you should sit. We needn't discuss everything tonight."

The gentleness in his voice made Y/N's heart flutter. She sank into a nearby chair, Jace following suit. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, giving her his full attention. His eyes were pools of liquid silver, soft and caring as they searched Y/N's face.

"Tell me," he said softly, "how are you truly faring? It can't be easy, managing the North in your brother's absence."

Y/N's carefully constructed walls began to crumble under his earnest gaze. "It's... challenging," she admitted. "Especially with the constant stream of demands from King's Landing."

Jace's expression darkened. "Ah, yes. I've heard whispers of Aegon's... correspondence."

Y/N couldn't hide the flash of frustration that crossed her face. "Correspondence," she scoffed. "Threats, more like. Your cousin seems to think he can bully the North into submission."

"My cousin," Jace said, his voice low and intense, "forgets that winter roses have thorns." He reached out, this time taking Y/N's hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through her. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "You needn't face this alone, my lady."

Y/N found herself lost in his eyes, warm and sincere. "I... thank you, Jace," she murmured.

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks. Jace glanced at the flames, then back to Y/N, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. "You know, where I come from, they say the dragonfires pale in comparison to the warmth of a northern welcome."

Despite herself, Y/N laughed. "Is that so? And how does our hospitality measure up?"

Jace's thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, his touch feather-light. "Oh, it exceeds all expectations, my lady. Though I must confess, I find myself most warmed by present company."

Y/N felt her cheeks burn, but for once, she didn't mind the heat. A small smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's lips as she gazed into his captivating eyes. "You're quite the charmer, Prince Jacaerys."

"Only when properly inspired," is all he replied.

…

The pale light of dawn crept over Winterfell's stone walls, casting long shadows across the frosted courtyard. Y/N stood in the stables, her breath visible in the crisp morning air.

Her fingers, slightly numb from the cold, worked methodically on the leather straps of her horse's saddle. The familiar motions were soothing - tighten, adjust, check, repeat. The rich scent of hay and horse sweat mingled with the earthy aroma of leather oil.

As she worked, Y/N caught herself glancing repeatedly towards the castle, anticipation building in her chest.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her heart quicken. Jace appeared in the stable doorway, silhouetted against the brightening sky. He stifled a yawn, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Y/N noticed the slight disarray of his dark curls and felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to smooth them.

"My lady," Jace greeted, his voice husky with sleep. He cleared his throat, offering a sheepish smile. "You're up early."

Y/N felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward. "The North waits for no one, Your Grace," she replied, handing him a set of reins. Their fingers brushed, and Y/N pretended not to notice the warmth that spread from the point of contact. "Are you ready for an adventure?"

As they set out, the rhythmic clop of hooves against cobblestone gave way to the muffled thud of earth. The misty woods enveloped them, tendrils of fog curling around the horses' legs. Droplets of dew clung to Y/N's eyelashes, refracting the weak sunlight into tiny prisms.

Y/N led the way, her posture relaxed and confident in the saddle. She navigated the invisible path with ease, ducking low-hanging branches and steering around hidden roots. Behind her, she could hear Jace's horse snorting softly, its rider muttering gentle reassurances.

"I can hardly see the path," Jace called out, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

Y/N twisted in her saddle, catching Jace's eye with a mischievous glint in her own. "That's because there isn't one," she replied, allowing a rare, playful smile to cross her features.

The forest was a symphony of morning sounds. Birds trilled their dawn chorus, their songs echoing through the mist-shrouded trees. Small creatures rustled in the underbrush, sending leaves skittering across the forest floor. The earthy scent of damp soil and pine needles filled the air, punctuated by the occasional whiff of wild mint when Y/N's horse trampled a hidden patch.

Hours seemed to pass as they wound their way through the increasingly dense forest. Y/N found herself hyper-aware of Jace's presence behind her. She could feel his eyes on her back, and fought the urge to glance over her shoulder more often than necessary.

Finally, they came upon a rocky outcropping. Y/N dismounted with practiced grace, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. She patted her horse's flank, murmuring soft words of thanks. From the corner of her eye, she watched Jace dismount, noting the slight stiffness in his movements after the long ride.

Jace stretched, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. His brow furrowed as he surveyed their surroundings. "My lady," he began, a hint of amusement in his tone, "I hate to question your expertise, but this looks suspiciously like a dead end."

Y/N's laugh echoed off the rocks, startling a nearby bird into flight. "Patience, Your Grace," she said, her eyes twinkling with secret knowledge. "The best treasures are often hidden."

She reached out, taking Jace's hand in hers. His palm was warm against her cool fingers, and she felt a flutter in her stomach at the contact. Pushing the feeling aside, she led him towards what appeared to be a solid rock face.

As they drew closer, a narrow opening revealed itself, barely visible unless one knew exactly where to look. Y/N squeezed through first, tugging Jace along behind her. The passage was tight, the rough stone scraping against their shoulders. Cool, damp air enveloped them, carrying the faint mineral scent of underground water.

Jace's breath was warm on the back of Y/N's neck as they inched forward in the dim light. She was acutely aware of his presence, of the way his chest occasionally brushed against her back in the narrow confines.

Suddenly, the passage opened up. Y/N stepped aside, allowing Jace to fully enter the cavern. She watched his face intently, savoring the moment his eyes widened in awe.

Sunlight streamed through an opening high above, illuminating a spectacular waterfall. The water, tinted an ethereal light blue by minerals in the rock, cascaded down in a thunderous rush before crashing into a pool below. Mist rose from the impact, creating tiny rainbows where the light hit just right.

"By the gods," Jace breathed, his voice barely audible over the roar of the falls. He turned to Y/N, wonder written across his features. "It's incredible."

Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his reaction. "Welcome to my secret place," she said softly, suddenly feeling shy. "Not even Cregan knows about this."

Jace's gaze softened as he looked at her, something unspoken passing between them. "Thank you for sharing this with me," he said, his voice low and sincere.

They settled on a smooth rock near the pool's edge, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. The mist from the falls cooled their skin, a welcome relief after the long ride. Y/N pulled out a small bundle from her saddlebag - bread, cheese, and a flask of sweet northern ale.

The conversation lulled, replaced by the constant rush of the waterfall. Y/N traced patterns in the damp sand with a stick, her eyes distant. Jace watched her, noting the slight furrow in her brow.

"A copper for your thoughts, my lady?" he asked softly.

Y/N looked up, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. "Just thinking about duties," she said. "They never seem to end, do they?"

Jace nodded, understanding in his eyes. "The burden of our birthrights," he agreed. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be free of them."

"Free," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the mist between them. She sighed, tossing the stick into the pool. "Cregan writes often of my duties. He's pressuring me more and more to find a husband."

Jace's expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "I... I apologize if I'm intruding, but may I ask why you haven't? Surely you've had no shortage of suitors."

Y/N met his gaze, finding unexpected comfort in the warmth she saw there. "Because I want love," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want a simple life, filled with moments like this." She gestured to the cavern around them. "But how can I promise forever to someone when tomorrow is so uncertain? How can I build a life amidst a war?"

Jace was quiet for a moment, considering her words. "Love in wartime," he mused. "It's not an easy path, but perhaps... perhaps it's the very thing that makes the fight worthwhile."

Y/N felt her heart quicken at his words. "And what of you, Prince Jacaerys? What does your heart seek in these troubled times?"

Jace's gaze softened as he looked at her. "I seek a partner," he said quietly. "Someone to stand beside me, not behind me. Someone who understands duty but hasn't lost sight of dreams." He paused, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Someone who knows the value of secret waterfalls and stolen moments."

The air between them seemed to crackle with unspoken possibility. Y/N felt drawn to him, like a moth to flame, but held herself back. This was not the time, not with so much at stake.

"It seems we both seek something rare and precious," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Jace nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Perhaps the gods will be kind," he murmured.

…

The iron-bound gates of Winterfell groaned open, admitting Y/N and Jace as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was thick with the scent of pine and woodsmoke, punctuated by the sharp tang of approaching frost. Their horses' hooves clattered against the worn cobblestones, the sound echoing off the ancient stone walls.

As they dismounted, Y/N felt the day's exertion in her muscles, a pleasant ache that spoke of adventure and freedom. She caught Jace's eye, noticing how the fading light caught the silver threads in his jerkin, making them shimmer like starlight.

"Jace," she began, her voice low and tinged with an emotion she dared not name, "today was—"

"Lady Y/N! Lady Y/N!" The frantic shout shattered the moment like a stone through ice.

Y/N's transformation was instantaneous and mesmerizing. Her shoulders squared, chin lifting as if an invisible crown had settled upon her brow. The softness in her eyes hardened to flint, sharp enough to cut.

"What is it?" she demanded, her voice crisp as a midwinter morning.

The guard skidded to a halt before them, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "My lady, there's been... an incident. You're needed urgently."

Y/N nodded curtly. "Lead on," she commanded, then turned to Jace. "Your Grace, I must attend to this. Perhaps we could speak later..."

Jace stepped forward, close enough that Y/N could smell the leather of his riding gloves and a hint of something spicy—cloves, perhaps. "If you'll allow me, I'd like to accompany you.”

Y/N hesitated, then inclined her head in agreement. They followed the guard, their footsteps echoing through Winterfell's torch-lit corridors. The warmth of the castle was a stark contrast to the chill outside, yet Y/N felt a different kind of coldness settling in her bones.

They entered a small, dim room that reeked of fear and desperation. A man knelt on the floor, the rattle of his chains a counterpoint to his broken sobs. In the flickering torchlight, his tear-stained face looked ghastly, almost skull-like.

"What has he done?" Y/N's voice cut through the room like a blade.

The man looked up, his eyes wide and pleading. Y/N's voice sliced through the tense atmosphere like a blade, her words sharp and filled with accusation. The man shrunk back in his seat, his eyes wide and pleading as he desperately tried to defend himself.

"My lady," he stammered, "I beg you... I was only going to King's Landing, to pledge myself to King Aegon, my children. Is that such a crime?" His voice trembled with fear and uncertainty, his hands shaking as he awaited her judgement.

Y/N's gaze bore into him, seeking any sign of deceit or treachery. Observation seemed to be her weapon of choice, and she wielded it with expert precision. Y/N's lips thinned. "If you wished to leave, you could have done so freely. We do not hold men against their will in the North. Or have you forgotten our ways so quickly?"

The guard cleared his throat, the sound like gravel underfoot. "There's more, my lady. He attempted to steal half the winter rations and one of our best horses. Caught him in the act, we did."

The man's sobs crescendoed. "You can't behead an innocent man!" he wailed, his voice cracking. "You and Lord Cregan, you'll be the death of House Stark! The North will remember this betrayal!"

Y/N stood motionless, but Jace saw the almost imperceptible tightening of her jaw, the slight tremor in her clenched fists. The room fell silent save for the man's ragged breathing and the soft hiss of the torches.

Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to keep her composure. Jace watched as Y/N stood motionless, her face a mask of stoic determination, but he could see the anger burning in her gaze.

"Send him to the Wall," Jace suggested, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through Y/N's chest. "It's a harsh sentence, yes, but one that allows him to redeem himself in service to the realm."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes unreadable in the dim light. "Or I could let him go," she mused, her voice barely above a whisper. "But then, what message would that send? That theft and betrayal go unpunished in the North?"

"Take his fingers, my lady," the guard interjected. "It's an old punishment, aye, but effective. He'd bear the mark of his crime, but keep his life and limbs... most of them, at least."

Y/N closed her eyes briefly, and in that moment, Jace saw the weight of the North resting on her shoulders. When she opened them again, they gleamed with resolve.

"You've given me much to consider," she said, her voice steady as the foundations of Winterfell itself. "I'll not make this decision in haste. Guard, take him to the cells. See that he's fed and given water. I'll pass judgment when the sun rises."

As the guard led the prisoner away, his pleas fading down the corridor, Y/N turned to Jace. The torchlight cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp planes of her cheekbones and the weariness in her eyes.

Jace moved towards Y/N, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, a welcome warmth against the coldness that had nestled in her chest. He spoke gently, never breaking eye contact with her. "You carry your burden with grace, my lady," he murmured, his voice deep and soothing.

Y/N held his gaze for a moment, allowing herself to bask in the comfort of his words. But as quickly as it had come, the moment passed. She took a step back, "Grace," she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Grace is a luxury, Your Grace. In the North, we survive on harsher virtues."

Her eyes, once warm and inviting, now held a wintry gleam. The soft curves of her face seemed to harden, as if the very stone of Winterfell was seeping into her bones. With those words, Y/N turned away, her cloak swirling around her like a shroud. As she walked deeper into the shadows of Winterfell's halls, Jace was left with the unsettling feeling that he'd glimpsed not just the Lady of Winterfell, but a portent of the harsh days to come.

The torches guttered in a sudden draft, and for a moment, the corridor was plunged into darkness. When the light returned, Y/N was gone, leaving behind only the echo of her words and the lingering chill of premonition.

...

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[ckc4me]

Ellsworth’s Ghost: Hauntings of The First Casualty

LONG SHADOWS: More Ghosts and Haunts of the Civil War Colonel Elmer E Ellsworth was a personal friend of Lincoln’s and leader of the elite New York “Fire” Zouaves. Courtesy of the National Gallery In Chapter 31 of Dixie Spirits, we investigated the Custis-Lee Mansion, also known as Arlington House, which still stands near Alexandria, Virginia, but we did not explore the other many ghosts and…

[kasagia]

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x fem!moon summoner!Alina's sister! reader Summary: After the events of the fold and the fight against Aleksander, you, Alina, Mal, Baghra, Zoya, Feydor, and the Six of certain Crows join forces against the Dark General, who is trying to take over Ravka. But instead of hating YOUR Aleksander with all your heart, you still believe that you can influence him and stop the civil war in Ravka. Inspired by: Taylor Swift - I Can Fix Hhim (No Really I Can) Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

They shake their heads sayin', "God, help her" When I tell 'em he's my man But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger I can fix him, no, really, I can And only I can... maybe I can't. Taylor Swift - I Can Fix Hhim (No Really I Can)

You can't help but shudder as you observe the fold from the hill you're standing on. Sometimes at night, you dream about how HE created it. As shadow flew from his mouth along with a desperate scream, creating a shadow fold with creatures destroying everything and anyone on their way instead of an army that was supposed to save his people.

The bond between you is still there. Even though Alina made sure that the amplifiers he placed in you were completely inactive and removed. Sometimes you envied her for not having these strange visions about Aleksander's past. Maybe then you could hate him blindly instead of gradually starting to see the point in his reasoning and actions.

“You should be sleeping.” You close your eyes and sigh as you hear the old witch's voice. Baghra's presence was like salt to the wounds that her son inflicted on you. She didn't help you move on from Aleksander at all. Even telling you only the worst, bloody, dark stories of his past didn't change how you felt. And God knows how hard you tried to hate him after all this time you were running away from him and his people. "Ignoring me won't make your situation better. Only I can help you with this bond between you and my son; you know it well. Besides, you have a long road ahead of you. Your summoning skills are poor; he would defeat you with a wave of his finger. You are a better summoner of the sun than of the shadows."

"I am the moon summoner. Not some strange hybrid." You huff offendedly, stroking your thumb over the back of your left hand—more specifically, the small scar left after Morozova's stag amplifier.

"Moon summoner? Who called you that?"

"Your son." You say scathingly, enjoying the silence that came after your words.

You congratulate yourself as the smirk disappears from her face. You fondly remember how he gave you that nickname during one of your late-night meetings in his war room.

You were both night owls; it made sense that you would want to spend your time with the general who personally trained you in the use of shadows rather than senselessly tossing and turning in your bed, waiting for a sleep that would never come, right? Besides, over time, you went to his chambers to toss and turn in HIS bed. And not because you couldn't sleep...

"You still can't see it? He only wanted your power. Nothing more. He cares more about Alina than you, since your powers are weaker than theirs. You can control two elements and be the first to summon shadows and not be from our family, but you will never compare to them. And Aleksander is a greedy man, like all of them. He won't be satisfied with a naive girl whose powers depend on the time of day."

"I understand." You answered calmly. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the woman staring at you in shock, believing for a moment that you had actually moved on. But you can't stop a small, mocking smile from appearing. "Instead of standing here and looking at me stupidly, you'd better check on the others. I hope Zoya hasn't killed poor Mal yet."

"Silly girl. May the saints watch over you." She comments, shaking her head.

"Your good saints don't need to lift a little finger! I can fix him." You hear her mutter something to herself as she walks away, leaving you alone and not even responding to your taunt.

You sigh, playing with the sleeve of your coat as you stare at the fold. You could have fixed him. Really. He didn't need much. He was a good man, and maybe others didn't see in him what you did, but you deeply believed that the real Aleksander Morozova still lived under the mask of the Darkling.

All you had to do was get him out. And only you were able to do it.

You close your eyes, letting the moonlight fall on your face as you focus to summon your own light. You sigh in defeat, playing with the tiny ball in your hands, which quickly dissolves the moment you let the shadows slip through your fingers—as usual, too weak to summon a light bigger than your fist in the dark of night.

You pull the hood of your cloak over your head and go back to the camp, thinking about the nights when you could summon anything you wanted in Aleksander's arms. How dependent you had become on him... Alina had told you more than once that you should have known better than to listen and believe the enticing promises of monsters whispered in the darkness of night.

But was it really your fault that you still wished you could sink into the warmth of his embrace and sheets where you didn't have to worry about whether you'd live to see tomorrow? With Aleksander by your side, at least you never had to question your usefulness.

You were both his stars and his darkness. And while Baghra's whispers sometimes made you doubt it, in your dreams you remembered how much your Shadow Summoner valued your presence. And that despite how the world saw him, he wasn't really the villain in this story. He was just a fallen angel, a saint you had to put his halo back on and give the stars back to. Or at least that's what you wanted to believe.

After all, only you could fix him.

"And who is she?" Prince Nikolai's piercing gaze meets yours as you, Alina, Mal, and Baghra meet his band of rebels on the ship.

Alina told you that if you were to defeat Aleksander, who was growing stronger every day after the King of Ravka declared Grisha, who did not join the First Army public enemies, you needed to obtain an amplifier of some sea creature.

You didn't listen to her very much, though. You were busy talking to Aleksander at night... mostly trying to connect with him or watch him from the shadows. You only briefly listened to the plans they were making. After all, they didn't need you as long as Alina and Baghra were in good shape. You were only a spare summoner in case one of them did not have enough power. Another reason why you preferred to spend more of your time and energy trying to contact your Sasha.

Maybe at least he would consider you useful.

"Wait... I know you from somewhere... Aren't you the Darkling's girl? The one he gave flowers to at the Winter Festival?" A man with a ridiculous hat and guns at his side asks you. You roll your eyes at him, sighing.

"Yup. That was me." You admit it—a wave of whispers spreading across the deck of the ship. You feel the judging glances of the other crows at you.

"Poor girl. Fortunately, you've got it over with now. If you're lucky, next time you'll see him, he'll be dead." Nikolai comforts you, patting your shoulder. You move away from him, narrowing your eyes at him as you brush invisible dust from your arm—right where he touched you.

For them, his death would be a salvation. For you, it's the worst thing that could happen to you. Even worse than losing your own power.

"Oh, believe me, my prince. I can handle me a dangerous man like him." You reply, ignoring the angry look Alina gives you.

Nikolai chuckles awkwardly, responding with something joking to your remark. The group gathers in the captain's office over a table with reports, papers, maps, and Morozova's notes. They are discussing the plan, but you can't focus too much on it. You stare at the map, wondering where Aleksander could be right now, as memories of the Winter Fete come flooding back to you.

"I don't recall this thing as a part of the schedule. I thought it was only you and Alina who entertained people while I was looking lovely while standing next to the Fedyor and Genya for the whole night." You say it in an accusatory tone as you enter his chambers. You hear his small, deep chuckle as he closes the door behind you and turns on the lights in the room.

"And here I thought that flowers would help me get into your good graces, and you would forget that I dared to save you from the king's wandering eyes and keep you for myself in our shadows." He replies teasingly, slowly walking around the war table to join you.

"The flowers are pretty... but I'd like you to remember that I don't just control shadows. I am the moon summoner. A combination of both light and dark. You called me that yourself. So don't underestimate me just because I can't yet do what you and Alina can do." He frowns at your words and shakes his head. He brushes away some stray strands of hair that had fallen out of your elaborately styled hairstyle made by Genya and stares at you intently.

If you could, you would stare into his dark, chocolate eyes forever. And you weren't even ashamed of it.

"I don't underestimate you. I'm protecting you. Alina had already caught their attention—the king and his pampered prince. I don't want you to be next. Besides... am I so selfish that I want you to shine just for me?" His (not so innocent) question and the sweet smile he gives you make your heart melt for him. You pull him towards you by the collar of his kefta and kiss him sweetly, lazily caressing his plush lips with yours.

Aleksander Kirigan was addictive. His kisses were sweeter than the sweetest dessert you had ever eaten in the Little Palace's kitchen late at night with him, and his scent was intoxicating in the most dangerous way. You would never forgive yourself if you lost him; you couldn't imagine how your life would have looked if he hadn't shown up, literally swept you off your feet, and didn't take you into his strong arms.

You didn't know what he saw in you that convinced him to make you his, but you decided not to question it as long as he was your man and only yours. Even if he was a bit possessive at times.

"A little... but I think I can handle it." You whisper as you break apart after getting out of breath. His thumb caresses your cheek tenderly as he looks at you, smiling. You feel the light flow out of you under his touch. "How does it work? That you make me unleash my powers no matter the time of day?"

"You just need… a little boost. Once we find Morozova's stag, I'll make sure that you will get an amplifier from its bones. You'll be able to control shadows and light regardless of the position of the sun or moon." He assures you, tracing a few pegs with his thumb on your waist, massaging you as he slowly pushes you towards the war table.

"How romantic... men give their ladies jewellery, chocolates, and other sweet things, and I will get a bone amplifier from my man."

"Your man?" He asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you. His hands rest gently on your hips, playing with the fabric of your black kefta as he leans over you. His nose brushes against yours, and his dark eyes never leave yours as he plays with your belt, slowly undoing it.

"Aren't you one?" You answer his question with your own as he undoes the buttons on your kefta. He slides it gently onto the war table behind you, leaving you in your black silk dress. You shiver as his fingertips touch the bare skin of your arm and collarbone.

"I think I am..." He whispers, placing kisses on your neck. You purr as he coaxes both moans and light from you. You feel the heat on your skin grow with every second his mouth explores your skin, your power wanting to burst out of you to light up his war room.

"Aleks.. hmph..." You gasp as his lips connect with yours in a frenzied kiss.

You give him everything he demands. Your mouth, your tongue, your moans, your light, and your darkness, to play with as he sees fit. Nothing matters to you except his touch and his mouth and the way he uses them to caress you in the most lustful and pleasurable way, dedicated only to two people with a true, strong, untamed, and unpredictable connection.

You feel like he's everywhere. He is in your body, soul, heart, and mind. Your every little thought, breath, heartbeat, and moan of pleasure belongs to him. And he enjoys them immensely, almost as much as you enjoy his service. Aleksander serves your pleasure as he does to his Grisha—completely losing himself in you, giving you everything he possibly can. He is fucking you in the most demanding and breathtaking way, making you feel like nothing else exists for you but him.

As always, he's your crutch as you dig your fingers into him for a foothold, your muscles completely failing you as he guides you over the edge of bliss. Light floods the room, dispelling the shadows you and Aleksander had summoned earlier. He could just as easily take your powers away at that moment, and all you'd do is thank him and beg him for more.

You tug on his hair, pulling him into a kiss as you feel his movements become less regular and more desperate as he too approaches the peak of his pleasure. You find that the beautiful music that drifts through the window of the Grand Palace cannot compare to the sound your Darkling makes as he lets go of his control and restraint completely and allows himself to lose himself in you.

His shadows consume the room, making you see nothing, but at the same time you feel so much… and you can't say you don't like it.

You’re glad you can bite into his skin to muffle your moans a little. At least it’ll allow you to look Ivan in the eyes when you leave this room with Aleksander after Ivan calls him on urgent business.

Although your heartbeat remains unchanged as Aleksander’s hand grips yours tightly when he leads you through the corridors of the Little Palace. And from the uncomfortable grunt of the heartrender, you suspect that Aleksander’s heart is beating at least as fast in his chest as in yours. And it’s not all because of the adrenaline rush of learning of your sister’s sudden disappearance.

"I can feel your breathing on my neck, Aleksander." You whisper into the darkness, standing on the bow of the ship and staring at the foamy sea in front of you.

You shiver as familiar arms wrap around your waist. His warmer, bearded cheek rests against yours as you peacefully stare at the nightscape in front of you. Aleksander's fingertips stroked your sea serpent scale bracelet—your second amplifier that you, Alina, and her great team managed to get a few hours ago.

"You are becoming more and more powerful, milaya. Too powerful for my taste." He murmurs against your ear, and teasingly licks your lobe with his tongue. You tremble in his arms, biting your lip as you try to find some shred of control.

"Now that we don't talk, I don't care much. You should rather go and torment my sister, good Saints know that's your favorite thing to do lately." You huff and untangle yourself from his arms (which he reluctantly allows you to do). You walk to the starboard side and ignore him completely, playing with the shadows that came with his 'projection'.

"Jealous?" He asks teasingly. He acts too smug for your liking as he stands next to you and brushes your arm with his.

You don't know how exactly your connection allows him to appear next to you at any time he wants, but you don't like it, not when you can't do something similar and torment him whenever you want.

"About you? Never. We both know you're mine. But that doesn't mean I'm not irritated by you trying to seduce my sister into your plans." You reply, focussing your gaze on him. You allow yourself to take a closer look at the scars on his face—a new thing about his appearance besides the kefta in yours and his colours that Alina had mentioned to you.

The fold had clearly hurt you in more ways than one. And looking at Aleksander you can't help but feel sorry for him, because you imagine how much those wounds must have hurt him. You wonder if it hurt him more than when you both broke your hearts back on the ship in the fold.

Even more so, you cannot understand why he insists on keeping the fold and widening it.

"To be honest, I was hoping you'd react to my little... tamptetion of your sister and come to me to knock some sense into me. Then I could tie you to my bed and keep you with me. Maybe I should collar you like I did to Alina, since you ran away from me and betrayed not only me but also our people, our Grisha. Tell me, did my dear mother also convince you that she gave birth to a monster? Are you afraid of me, malyshka? Are you disgusted by the things I taught you and did to you in the darkness?"

"Not at all. You've been such an angel in those nights… pleasing me so well with your silver-tongue. What a shame you decided that you'd rather play with Ravka than with my pussy." You reply, running your hand over his jaw teasingly.

His beard is longer than usual, rougher, and standing so close to him you can see the outline of the black bags under his eyes. The civil war took its toll on him. But he was still too damn handsome to resist.

"Look how I depraved you, my sweet, little, innocent Saint. Just a few months ago, you blushed at my mere words—not to mention my touch—and completely forgot to respond with anything of your own. What a diligent student you became, milaya. Have you found a new teacher yet?"

"Why did you ask? Haven't you found some new students?" You ask mockingly, pushing his wandering hand away from your waist.

"Why should I waste my time teaching someone the tricks I've already shown you? It is much easier and more advantageous, for me, to find you and drag you with me back to the Little Palace than even start to look around for someone else. After all, I didn't spend that sleepless night, teaching you how to please me, just to let the other man enjoy the fruits of my hard work."

"Who said no one else than you haven't enjoyed it already?"

He responded to your teasing question with a low growl. He grabs your hips tightly, making sure that you won't run away from him and press his hips to your ass. Goosebumps appear on your skin, and your heartbeat speeds up when you feel his manhood against your body.

"You wouldn't dare. You know I would kill anyone who would even think about touching you. You are mine, my little moon. All mine."

"Right now, you are too far away to order me or claim your right to me, Aleksander. What a pity… especially when there are so many men who could be called mine instead of you." You said and pushed him away from you. "Have fun at your war." You growl at him and move to go under the ship's deck.

But you don't make it far away from him. After just a few steps, Aleksander grabs your arm and pulls you to his chest. Shadows swirl around you, making you unable to see anything. All you can feel is their coldness, the warmth emanating from Aleksander's chest, and his scent, which is like a drug to you after a long withdrawal—more addictive than anything in the world.

"Why the rush? Don't you want to spend a few more minutes with me? The Saints know I would. Very much so." He murmurs to your ear, making you shiver as his hands are holding you tightly, his fingertips dig into your arm, probably leaving you bruised the next day.

"Before or after you will destory half of the Ravka?"

"I haven't decided yet." He growls and leans towards you. Before you can react, he's tangling his hand in your hair and pulling you in, claiming your mouth in a passionate kiss.

You gasp, enjoying the sudden, unexpected feeling of his soft lips on yours. You instinctively tangle your hand in his night-black hair and pull him closer to you, biting his lower lip. You moan at the taste of his blood on your tongue, his fingers digging into your waist. He lifts you, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist as he pins you against the wooden wall of the ship.

He takes your air, every logical thought, and every heartbeat, stealing everything that's left of you to remind you that every last bit of you was tainted by him and will forever belong to him. No matter what he did, Alexander had claimed every last bit of you, all of you, and left nothing for anyone else, as if he would ever allow another person's lips to touch the places that were his.

His lips move to your neck, nibbling there and leaving a trail of hickies. His beard tickles your skin as you feel the familiar tingle of sunlight trying to break through you as his skin meets yours.

You freeze, realising that Aleksander is standing before you in his own flesh. This isn't a vision, a nightmare, or anything else. It's him. The REAL HIM.

You take a deep breath, but before you can say or scream, Aleksander's large, calloused hand covers your lips, which are chapped from the sea air.

"I told you I'd come back for you, milaya. No matter how far or fast you run, I'll always find you and bring you back to your rightful place. At my side." He whispers in your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine and your heart racing, adrenaline pumping as you try to summon your shadows.

Any hopes you have of escaping are dashed by the sight of Ivan's red kefta behind Aleksander. Heartrender quickly slows your heart rate, sending you into a sleep state. The last thing you see as you collapse into the Darkling's arms is a bright light that must be coming from your sister. And part of you is glad you're unconscious. It means you don't have to look her in the eyes as you realise your mistake.

Strangely enough, you don't wake up on a ship at sea. Or handcuffed in some filthy cell. You wake up in a comfortable, warm bed in an unfamiliar chamber.

You sigh, stretching your aching muscles. You roll over, pulling the black silk sheets off of you, rubbing your hand over your eyes as the sunlight hits them.

You are surprised to find no one around you. Not a single living soul. You suspect that Aleksander has placed a heartrender by your door to watch over you. You decide to get out of bed and investigate your surroundings.

Your legs tremble as you slowly get out of bed. You steer yourself towards the window, using the wall as a support. You gasp as you see the buildings through the window, the houses of Os Alta, and most of all the familiar structure that was the Little Palace.

You shiver as the door suddenly opens with a bang. You turn around, watching Ivan carefully as he enters the room.

"You're finally awake. The Tsar wants to see you." He informs you and walks over to the closet. He pulls out a black kefta and hands it to you. You stare at the material for a moment, trying to make sense of what's happening around you.

"I won't wear this." You say stubbornly, refusing to wear his colors. You're too angry at him for kidnapping you to grant him any more small victories in your... little war.

"I doubt it will make him angry. Probably quite the opposite." Ivan comments, significantly lowering his gaze to the nightgown you have been dressed in.

You roll your eyes at him and yank the black cloth out of his hands. You expect to see an all-black kefta, similar to the one Alexander gave you at the Winter Fete, but you are… surprised to see embroidered silver detailing on the sleeves. You raise an eyebrow at Ivan, but he seems to ignore you, patiently waiting to be escorted to the throne room to face the new Tsar.

You reluctantly follow the heartrender, aware that your power is limited by the metal bracelet on your wrist—an accessory you remember vividly from when the Darkling entered the fold with you, Alina, and the Ravkan dignitaries.

You shiver uncontrollably as you remember what happened in the fold.

It was your first time crossing the fold, and Aleksander knew it, as well as the fact that you were afraid to cross the creation that killed your parents. Your only consolation was that now, if need be, you could summon at least a small ball of light to scare away the volcra. And that Alina would be there with you. But your Shadow Summoner had never even mentioned to you that your sister would join you on the ship against her will. A small omission of fact that had been happening to him more and more often lately.

"I can hear your thoughts." As if on cue, he stands right behind you. His hand—the one with the amplifier—reaches for yours and intertwined your fingers, squeezing your hand tightly in his grip.

"It's a pity that you only hear them and don't think about them even for a moment." You reply snidely, swallowing hard as you stare at your sister’s collar. When her gaze meets yours, you drop your gaze to her shoes.

"It had to be done. You know it."

"Do I? You haven't been telling me anything lately. You just keep saying that I'm too weak to fulfil your plans and that you need Alina." You reply angrily, turning to look into his dark as fold eyes. You shiver as you watch him clench his jaw and narrow his gaze at you, trying to ignore the curious glances of the invited nobility as he is trying to respond calmly to your allegations.

"I never said you were too weak. I said you needed an amplifier to unlock your true potential."

"And what difference does it make?" You snap at him madly, wishing you had more control over your emotions than he does. You guess it'll take you ages to master the ability of keeping up your mask of indifference like he does.

"That I know what you're truly capable of. Don't you think I'd rather stand by your side as we pursue our plan? Do you think that I wanted to do this to your sister? That I'm the monster my mother painted for her and you? Everything I do, I do for the sake of Grisha. For us. For you. I… I just need a little trust from you. That's all I'm asking, milaya."

"And you need to know how hard it is to trust you when my sister is chained to the floor of the ship, with a collar around her neck so you can control her powers." You whisper, voice breaking, holding back the tears as you face both your immense love for the man before you and your hatred for what he did to your sister.

"She never wanted it."

"But now she wants. Just like I never thought you could be more than the Black General to me, and here we are." At your words, he softens a little. He sighs and looks around. You can see that he is struggling with his thoughts, that he is considering your words, but you know as well as he does that your relationship is too weak for him to change his entire plan with one word from you.

You shiver, not from the cold that your black coat, strikingly similar to the one he wears, protects you from, but from a premonition of what's about to happen. Something you definitely won't like. But you allow yourself to delude yourself a little longer that everything will be okay. You reach for his hand and place a quick kiss on it, pressing your lips not to the bony amplifier but to his skin, which makes his gaze focus fully on yours again. As if you really were going to be his light in the darkness.

"Please... just don't prove me wrong. Don't make me regret trusting you so blindly." He doesn't respond to your pleas—something that should make you at least a little suspicious. But he doesn't. Instead, he tangles his hand in your hair, pulling you closer. He presses a kiss to your forehead, appreciating the feeling of your body against him for a moment longer before he lets you go completely to take care of Alina.

Now you know it was a farewell, that he knew you would not accept how he used your sister's power to intimidate those on the ship, engulfing Novo-Kirbirks in the darkness of the Fold.

Then everything happened so fast. And you're really grateful to Alina for dragging you to another ship, even though you were cursing her name and howling in the darkness of the Folds louder than the volcras. Because you know you would have jumped after Aleksander regardless, trying to protect him at all costs from the monsters he himself had created.

“We’re here.” Ivan announces, pulling you out of your thoughts. You literally only had a few seconds to prepare yourself to confront Aleksander before you were shoved into the throne room, the doors slamming shut behind you.

Before your eyes land on the Tsar, you allow yourself to scan the room for a moment. The throne room underwent a major renovation. It resembled one of the rooms of the Little Palace more than the former throne room of the Lantsovs.

As you might expect, the dominant colours are black and gold. Surprisingly, instead of sitting on his new black marble throne engraved with a solar eclipse, Aleksander is standing at a round table with a map of Ravka. His gaze meets yours, sending an electric shiver through you.

But what surprises you the most is that there are two thrones present in the throne room. Not one. And the second one has an engraving of a crescent moon.

"I heard you called yourself tsar, but somehow the rumor about you taking over the capital never reached me."

"You might have slept through it, Sankta Y/N." He responds to your mockery with his own. You wrinkle your nose at the sound of your most hated nickname.

"And how long exactly was I in that forced nap?" You ask, walking towards him with your arms folded. You lift your chin at him as he frowns at your defensive posture.

He puts down the reports he was reading before you arrived and takes a step towards you. You resist the instinct that tells you to back away from him, just as the one that demands from you to come closer to him and snuggle into him.

You marvel at how he managed to evoke in you both blazing fear and rage, as well as lust and love. The desire to be close to him seemed unable to weaken at all. No matter what he did, a part of you would always be his. And it was something you strangely didn't want to fight.

"A few weeks."

"Hmm… how nice. And how many times have you used my powers in your little plan to take over the title of Tsar, the Grand Palace, and well, probably all of Ravka in those few weeks?" You ask snidely, glancing briefly at Ravka's map and the papers on the table.

"You sound like you're suggesting that this was something I wanted to do, or at least something a little enjoyable for me. And I thought that you, of all people, knew me at least a little better."

"Do I?" You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, staring straight into those dark irises, trying to ignore the black scars on his face that you haven't had a chance to get used to yet. You can't help but wonder how he's put up with his... new face.

"You're asking me?"

"And who should I? Of the two of us, I'm not the master of half-truths here." You question him, undeterred by the shadows around him growing thicker with each of your mocking words.

"It wasn't a half-truth… I just kept some things in the dark to protect you."

"And look where your defending me has gotten us. What exactly were you trying to defend me from? From your mother, Fjerdan, Drüskelle, or perhaps from yourself, Aleksander?"

"I… it wasn't supposed to be like this."

You sigh, taking a step towards him. You place one hand on his kefta, just above his heart, and with the other, you cup his bearded cheek, forcing him to look at you.

"So tell me. Let me in on your plans. Don't treat me like a pawn in your game, but as your equal. Unless you do consider me as someone beneath you."

"You ARE my equal." He quickly confirms and takes your hand (the one resting on his chest) in a tight grip, intertwining your fingers as he stares at you pleadingly, feeling how close he is to having you on his side.

And all Aleksander ever wanted was to not be alone in his fight for Grisha. And he would have that. He would have you even if you ran away from him, screamed at him, called him a monster, and cursed him to the saints, if it meant he would never have to struggle against the world alone again.

"So start treating me like one." You reply and look pointedly at the bracelets on your wrists.

You see the internal battle that is going on inside him. You see him struggling to let you in and to be as vulnerable with you as you have allowed yourself to be with him. You know his past, you know perfectly well what he's struggled with, what he's been through over the hundreds of years, but if he wanted you on his side, he had to at least show you in some way that he was able to trust you the way you trusted him.

"I… you can't expect me to… after all this…"

"You once asked me to trust you. I did. Why can't I expect the same from you?" You ask, looking at him expectantly. "Do you think I am capable of hurting you more than you've already hurt me, moi Tsar?"

"That was never my intention." He frowns, refuting your accusations. He steps back, creating some distance between you, giving in to his defensive reflexes. But you don't back down. You'll make a good boy out of him and make him come to you and fall into your trap. He just needed a little push...

"I know. Which doesn't change the fact that I pay a price for loving you, and you, Aleksander? It would be so much easier for me to hate you. But I can't. I don't want to. So please, for OUR sake, don't give me a reason to."

You look up at him pleadingly with your most beautiful doe eyes and stop your lips from forming a smile when you see the effect it has on him as he slowly begins to melt his attitude.

You take a step towards him and grab him by the collar of his kefta. He stiffens for a moment but calms down when you pull him to rest your forehead against his. He sighs shakily and tangles a hand in your hair, stroking your temple with his thumb.

"Aren't you tired? Of fighting all the time, giving them everything and never getting anything in return? How many lives have you spent sacrificing yourself to Grisha, and how many have truly belonged to you?" You whisper and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His beard tickles yours and you smile slightly at the familiar, comforting feeling. You open your eyes and stare into his dark irises, mumbling against his lips. "We could have had this, Aleksander. We could have made Ravka stronger together, united Grisha and Otkazat'sya, built an empire the likes of which no one had ever seen before. We still can. I can convince Alina and the rest that you can be trusted, that our goals are aligned, only two paths lead to them, which we can connect, everything can still be changed. You no longer have to fight alone."

"You think I haven't tried their way? Grisha will never be treated as their equals. Not if we don't use force, if we don't instill fear in them."

"Aleksander... they are already afraid enough. Please. Let's find the last amplifier and end this. Don't you think it's taking too long? We can repel the Fjerdan, stop the Drüskelle attacks, intimidate the Shu Han, and bring peace and security, but only by combining our forces."

"It's too late for that."

"Who said that?" You ask, stroking the black scar on his cheek with your fingertip. He trembles under your touch, burying his face in your hand.

"They won't see me as anything more than a monster."

"Now yes. But I can show them the real you. My man."

"Your man?" He raises an eyebrow at you, placing a hand on your shoulder and caressing your collarbone tenderly. You shiver as you feel the power flow through you, answering the amplifier’s call.

"Aren't you?" You whisper, looking at him from under your lashes and lightly biting your lower lip.

A moment later, he gives in and leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss. You sigh, tangling your hands in his hair and pressing your body against his. He pulls you back with him and sinks into the throne, with you on his lap.

You move your hands to his chest and slowly undo the clasps of his kefta, peeling the black material off of it. Alexander pulls away from your mouth and presses kisses along your jaw and neck, nipping and biting at your skin, marking it with hickeys as you work to undo his shirt.

You hold your breath and stop your movements as the bracelets on your wrists are suddenly removed. Aleksander places tender kisses on them, causing both light and shadow to flow from your fingers. You sigh, pressing your lips to his forehead and burying your nose in his hair, inhaling his scent.

"I think I am." He mumbles against the skin of your neck, his beard giving you small tickles that make your lips curve into a little smile. You lazily run your fingers through his hair and pull away so you can look at him.

You trace the black scar on his cheek with your fingertips, caressing it gently. Aleksander holds his breath for a moment and places his hand on your thigh, squeezing it when you touch a particularly sensitive spot on his still-aching wounds. Your heart aches to see him like this. You swear to yourself that this is the last time you'll leave him with his shadows, that you'll let anyone tear you from his arms and leave him alone in the darkness.

As you sit on his lap in his throne room... your throne room, you wonder how the hell you're going to explain this to Alina and the others. You wonder how you're going to convince them that you haven't completely lost your minds to the man beneath you and how to convince them that you both have only the best interests of Ravka in mind and have no intention of harming anyone in the process of increasing the freedom, security, and importance of Grisha.

You decide that's a problem for another time. Right now, you were happy to bask in Aleksander's embrace, warmth, and scent.

"Moya tsaritsa..." He whispers in your ear as he works on taking off your kefta.

Yep, you could definitely fix him... or at least that's what you wanted to think as he showed you heaven in the ruins of what was once Ravka. After all, a fallen angel is also an angel.

[shybluebirdninja]

Abyss of Time

Summary: In a dystopian future where mutants are hunted, Logan, a 170-year-old warrior, meets Y/n, a 25-year-old human who helps mutants escape persecution. Drawn to her bravery, Logan becomes increasingly possessive as their bond deepens, especially when Y/n’s dedication to her cause puts her in danger. Tensions rise as Y/n grows close to another mutant in their group, testing Logan’s control and their relationship. The story comes into the complexities of love and survival in a world where danger lurks at every turn, and Logan’s possessiveness might be the only thing keeping Y/n alive.

Pairing : Logan Howlett x Female human-reader

Warning : None

The city was a maze of shadows and ruins, a twisted labyrinth where only the desperate dared to tread. Once a symbol of progress and civilization, it had crumbled under the weight of fear and hatred. The streets, once bustling with life, were now desolate, haunted by the echoes of a war that had left no corner untouched.

Y/n darted through the narrow alleyways, her breath coming in sharp bursts as she led a small group of mutants through the darkness. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from fear, but from the adrenaline that had become as familiar to her as breathing. This was her life now—running, hiding, fighting to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The group of mutants following her was a mix of ages and abilities, each one marked by the telltale signs of their genetic differences. In this world, those differences were a death sentence. The government had declared war on mutants, branding them as a threat to humanity, and had unleashed the Sentinels—soulless machines programmed to hunt and kill without mercy.

Y/n had lost count of how many mutants she had helped over the years. She didn’t do it for recognition or reward. She did it because it was right, because someone had to stand against the madness that had consumed the world. And because, deep down, she believed that mutants had as much right to live as anyone else.

As they approached an abandoned warehouse, Y/n slowed her pace, signaling for the group to stop. The warehouse was one of the many safe houses scattered throughout the city, hidden in plain sight among the ruins. It wasn’t much—just four walls and a roof—but it offered temporary refuge from the relentless hunt.

Y/n pushed open the rusted door and stepped inside, her senses on high alert. The interior was dark, lit only by the faint glow of a few battery-operated lamps. She scanned the room, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, and froze when she saw a figure standing in the corner, half-hidden in the shadows.

Logan.

His presence filled the room, an unspoken threat to anyone who dared to cross him. Y/n had heard of him long before they met—stories of a man who had lived for over a century, who had fought in wars that were now the stuff of legend. But nothing could have prepared her for the reality of him. Logan was a force of nature, all raw power and barely contained rage, and yet, there was something about him that drew her in, something she couldn’t quite define.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked, her voice steady despite the tension thrumming in the air.

Logan stepped into the light, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “Heard you were takin’ a risky route tonight. Thought you could use some backup.”

Y/n bristled at his tone, at the implication that she couldn’t handle herself. “I’ve been doing this long before you showed up. I don’t need your help.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, and you’ve been lucky so far. But luck runs out, kid.”

The endearment, meant to be a casual remark, stung more than Y/n cared to admit. She wasn’t a child, and she resented being treated like one. But she also knew better than to argue with Logan when he was in this mood. Instead, she turned to the group of mutants behind her, their eyes wide with fear and exhaustion.

“Wait here,” she instructed them before turning back to Logan. “We’ll rest here for a bit, then move on.”

Logan nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. “I’ll keep watch.”

Y/n didn’t bother to respond. She knew Logan well enough to understand that he would do what he wanted, regardless of what she said. As she moved to help the mutants settle in, she couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was different, that something was lurking just out of sight, waiting to strike.

Time passed in tense silence, the only sounds the occasional rustle of movement or the distant hum of a Sentinel patrol. Y/n tried to rest, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing. She kept replaying Logan’s words in her head, the way he had looked at her, as if he was trying to protect her from something she couldn’t see.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice at her side. “Y/n?”

She turned to see one of the younger mutants, a boy no older than sixteen, standing next to her. His eyes were wide with worry, his hands trembling as he clutched a worn blanket around his shoulders.

“Are we safe here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n forced a smile, trying to reassure him even though she wasn’t entirely sure herself. “For now, yes. We’ll move again soon, just to be safe.”

The boy nodded, but the fear in his eyes didn’t fade. Y/n placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Stay close to me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The boy nodded again, his grip on the blanket tightening. Y/n watched as he returned to the others, huddling close to an older mutant who put a protective arm around him. The sight tugged at her heart. These people had lost so much—family, friends, homes—and yet they still found the strength to keep going. It was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, mutant or not.

Logan’s voice broke through her thoughts. “You’re good with them.”

Y/n glanced over at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on her.

“They trust you,” he continued, his expression unreadable. “That’s not an easy thing to earn these days.”

Y/n shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “They don’t have much of a choice. It’s either trust me or risk getting caught.”

Logan pushed off the wall and walked over to her, his presence as overwhelming as ever. “It’s more than that, and you know it.”

Y/n looked up at him, her heart skipping another beat at the intensity in his gaze. She had never been good at reading Logan, never quite sure what was going on behind those eyes. But right now, she could see something she hadn’t noticed before—something that made her pulse quicken.

Logan reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was so unexpected, so out of character, that Y/n froze, unsure of how to react.

“You’re brave, Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice rough with something she couldn’t name. “But bravery can get you killed if you’re not careful.”

Y/n swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I know the risks.”

Logan’s hand lingered for a moment before he dropped it to his side. “I’m not talkin’ about them. I’m talkin’ about you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched at the words, at the implication behind them. She had always known that Logan was protective, that he had a tendency to take on more than he should. But this felt different. This felt personal.

Before she could respond, a noise outside the warehouse caught their attention. Logan’s head snapped up, his senses immediately on high alert. Y/n tensed, her heart pounding in her chest as she strained to hear what had set him off.

The door to the warehouse creaked open, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as a figure stepped inside. For a split second, she feared it was a Sentinel, that their hiding place had been discovered. But then she recognized the newcomer and let out a sigh of relief.

It was Jake, a mutant they had picked up a few weeks ago. He was young, not much older than Y/n, with a cocky grin and a swagger that belied the horrors he had seen. Y/n had grown fond of him, his easy smile and unshakable optimism a rare comfort in a world gone mad.

“Jake,” Y/n breathed, her relief evident in her voice. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Jake grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Sorry, didn’t mean to. Thought I’d check on you guys, see if you needed any help.”

Logan’s expression darkened at the sight of Jake, his posture tensing. Y/n noticed the change immediately, a knot of unease forming in her stomach.

“We’re fine,” Logan said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jake raised an eyebrow at Logan’s response but didn’t back down. “Just thought I’d offer. No harm in that, right?”

Y/n stepped between them, sensing the rising tension. “It’s okay, Jake. We’re just getting ready to move out. You can come with us if you want.”

Jake’s grin widened. “Sure thing. Lead the way, boss.”

Logan’s eyes flashed with something dark and dangerous, but he said nothing as Y/n led the group out of the warehouse. The streets were eerily quiet, the city shrouded in an unnatural silence that set Y/n’s nerves on edge. She kept a close watch on their surroundings, every sense on high alert as they made their way through the shadows.

Logan fell into step beside her, his presence a comforting weight at her side. But she could feel the tension radiating off him, the barely contained anger that simmered just beneath the surface.

As they walked, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen, that the fragile peace they had managed to maintain was about to shatter. She glanced over at Logan, searching his face for some sign of what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable.

“Logan,” she began, but he cut her off with a sharp look.

“Stay close,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “And keep an eye on him.”

Y/n followed his gaze and saw Jake a few paces ahead, his posture relaxed, seemingly unaware of the danger around them. She frowned, confused by Logan’s sudden hostility.

“Logan, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he watched Jake. “Just do as I say, Y/n.”

Y/n opened her mouth to argue, but something in Logan’s tone made her stop. She nodded, falling silent as they continued through the city, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.

It wasn’t until they reached another safe house, this one a dilapidated apartment building on the outskirts of the city, that Y/n finally had a chance to confront Logan. The others had gone inside to rest, leaving them alone in the dimly lit hallway.

“What the hell is your problem?” Y/n demanded, her voice low but fierce. “Why are you acting like this?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the door where the others had gone, then back to Y/n. “You need to be careful with him.”

“With Jake?” Y/n asked, incredulous. “Why? He’s been nothing but helpful.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his possessive nature rearing its head. “He’s getting too close to you.”

Y/n blinked, taken aback by the accusation. “Too close? Logan, he’s a friend. That’s it.”

Logan stepped closer, his towering presence making Y/n’s heart race. “He’s a distraction, Y/n. And distractions can get you killed.”

Y/ne’s anger flared at his words, at the way he was trying to control her. “You don’t get to decide who I’m friends with, Logan. You don’t get to dictate who I care about.”

Logan’s hand shot out, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her closer. His eyes were blazing with a mix of anger and something else—something that made Y/n’s breath catch in her throat.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” he growled, his voice rough with emotion. “You have no idea what’s out there, what could happen if you let your guard down.”

Y/n wrenched her arm free, her eyes flashing with defiance. “I don’t need you to protect me, Logan. I’ve been doing just fine on my own.”

Logan’s expression softened for a brief moment, a flicker of something like regret passing through his eyes. “You’re brave, Y/n. But bravery can be a double-edged sword.”

Y/n stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to argue, to push him away, but she couldn’t ignore the truth in his words. She had seen too many people die because they had been too brave, too willing to take risks. And yet, she couldn’t let fear control her, couldn’t let Logan’s possessiveness dictate her life.

Before she could say anything else, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, breaking the tense silence. Y/n turned to see Jake approaching, his easy grin in place, completely unaware of the storm brewing between her and Logan.

“Hey, everything okay?” Jake asked, his eyes flicking between the two of them.

Y/n forced a smile, trying to keep the tension from showing on her face. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just talking strategy.”

Jake nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Cool. Just wanted to check in before we head out again.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his posture tensing as Jake turned to leave. Y/n could feel the anger radiating off him, the jealousy that was so obvious it practically crackled in the air.

Once Jake was out of earshot, Y/n turned back to Logan, her voice low and firm. “You need to stop this, Logan. Jake is not a threat.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his eyes hard. “He’s more of a threat than you realize.”

Y/n shook her head, frustration boiling over. “This isn’t about Jake. This is about you not being able to control everything around you.”

Logan didn’t respond, his silence only fueling Y/n’s anger. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

“I can take care of myself,” she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “You don’t have to do it for me.”

Logan’s eyes softened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “I know you can, Y/n. But I can’t help it.”

Y/n stared at him, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. She had never seen Logan like this, so raw and exposed. It was as if the walls he had built around himself were crumbling, leaving him defenseless against the emotions he had tried so hard to suppress.

Without thinking, Y/n reached out, her hand resting on his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm, the warmth of his skin seeping into her own.

“Logan,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Logan’s hand covered hers, his touch gentle despite the storm raging inside him. “You won’t. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his words, the promise that lay beneath them. She had always known that Logan was dangerous, that he was capable of doing terrible things in the name of survival. But this was different. This was about something deeper, something that scared her more than any Sentinel ever could. Before she could say anything else, Logan leaned down, his lips brushing against her forehead in a gesture that was both tender and possessive. Y/n’s heart fluttered at the contact, her emotions a tangled mess of fear and longing.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Logan murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Even if it means keeping you away from everyone else.”

Y/n closed her eyes, the weight of his words settling over her like a heavy blanket. She knew that Logan’s protectiveness came from a place of love, that he cared for her more deeply than he would ever admit. But she also knew that his possessiveness could be dangerous, that it could drive a wedge between them if she wasn’t careful.

When Logan finally pulled away, Y/n felt the loss of his warmth like a physical blow. She opened her eyes to find him watching her, his expression torn between desire and something darker.

“We should go,” Logan said, his voice strained. “The others are waiting.”

Y/n nodded, her heart heavy with the knowledge that their relationship had just crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. As they made their way back to the group, she couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change, that the fragile bond they had built was about to be tested in ways they couldn’t possibly imagine.

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

The journey to the next safe house was tense, the silence between Y/n and Logan growing heavier with each passing moment. Jake tried to make conversation a few times, but the mood was too dark, the unspoken tension too palpable for any lighthearted banter to cut through.

When they finally reached their destination, a rundown building that had once been a school, Y/n was relieved to see that the other mutants were already inside, safe and sound. But the relief was short-lived. The moment they stepped through the door, they were met with the sight of another mutant standing in the center of the room, his presence radiating a power that made the air hum with electricity.

Y/n recognized him instantly—Erik, a mutant with the ability to control metal. He was a legend among their kind, both revered and feared for his abilities and his ruthless determination to protect mutantkind at all costs.

“Erik,” Y/n greeted him, her voice wary. “What are you doing here?”

Erik’s gaze swept over the group, his expression unreadable. “I heard you were in need of assistance.”

Y/n ’s heart sank at the words, at the implications behind them. Erik’s help always came with a price, one that Y/n wasn’t sure she was willing to pay.

“We’re managing,” she said carefully, glancing at Logan for support.

Logan’s expression was unreadable, but Y/n could sense the tension in him, the way his muscles were coiled, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Erik’s gaze flicked to Logan, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve made an interesting choice of allies, Y/n.”

Y/n ’s heart skipped a beat at the subtle jab, at the way Erik’s eyes seemed to gleam with something that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Logan’s been a great help,” Y/n said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides.

Erik’s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. “I’m sure he has. But his methods... they’re not always in line with what’s best for our kind.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. Y/n could feel the anger radiating off him, the barely contained rage that was so close to the surface.

“We’re doing what we can to survive,” Y/n interjected quickly, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated. “That’s all that matters right now.”

Erik’s gaze shifted back to her, his smile fading into something more serious. “Survival is important, yes. But so is our future, Y/n . And sometimes, to secure that future, we have to make sacrifices.”

Y/n’s stomach churned at the words, at the implications behind them. She knew that Erik was right in some ways, that their survival depended on making tough decisions. But she also knew that Logan wouldn’t take kindly to any suggestion that involved putting her or anyone else at risk.

“I’m not interested in making sacrifices,” Logan growled, his voice low and threatening. “Especially not when it comes to Y/n.”

Erik’s eyes gleamed with a cold amusement. “And there it is—the possessiveness of the Wolverine. It’s almost... predictable.”

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as she glanced between the two men, the tension in the room reaching a fever pitch. She knew that if something wasn’t done to diffuse the situation, things could get out of hand quickly.

“Erik, we appreciate your concern,” Y/n said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Logan’s arm, trying to calm him down. “But we’re handling things in our own way. Logan’s methods might be unorthodox, but they work. And right now, that’s all that matters.”

Y/n’s gaze lingered on her for a long moment, as if weighing her words. Finally, he nodded, though his expression remained guarded. “Very well, Y/n . But remember—sometimes the only way to truly survive is to let go of the things that hold us back.”

With that, Erik turned and walked out of the room, leaving Y/n and Logan alone in the thick silence that followed his departure. Y/n let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, her hand still resting on Logan’s arm.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, looking up at him.

Logan’s expression softened as he looked down at her, some of the anger fading from his eyes. “I’m fine, Y/n. But we need to be careful. Erik’s not someone to be trusted.”

Y/n nodded, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that Erik’s words had struck a chord with Logan. There was a darkness in his eyes, a shadow that hadn’t been there before, and it made her worry about what the future held for them.

As they rejoined the others, Y/n couldn’t help but feel that things were about to get a lot more complicated. The fragile peace they had managed to maintain was hanging by a thread, and she had a feeling that it wouldn’t take much to tear it apart.

And as she glanced at Logan, she knew that the possessiveness he felt for her, the fierce protectiveness that drove him, could either be their salvation—or their undoing.

[hannieehaee]

BAD HABIT (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: hiding his secret crush on you was already hard enough for jungkook, and after getting bit by a spider, he'd now have the grueling task of hiding his brand-new superhero identity from you.

content: spiderman!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, based on mcu's spiderman and is supposed to take place during/after civil war but with an aged up spiderman, college-aged Jungkook and reader, picture tattoo-less 2019 jungkook, pining, slow burn-ish, afab reader, smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 878 (teaser); 9.4k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: august 6th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: writing a spideykook fic is a right of passage for every jk fanfic writer

masterlist | kofi/patreon

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"Oh my God, did you see what he did last night?", you excitedly shoved your phone in Jungkook's direction, showing him yet another news article detailing Spiderman's newest act of bravery.

"What, did he stop another bank robbery?", Jungkook showed disinterest in your interruption, continuing to pay attention to what was playing on the TV.

"Okay, booo! Why are you so lame about him? He's so cool," you complained, setting your back against the couch again with a frown.

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Just don't see what the big deal is about him. There's cooler superheroes out there."

With the light from the TV shinning on the two of you, you allowed the content from the movie to consume you for a bit before arguing back. You always argued back when it came to Spiderman. This was practically routine to Jungkook by now.

"Like Iron Man? Sure, Tony Stark's cool, but think about it — Spiderman's probably just a regular person like you and me. Can you imagine doing all he does while keeping it all undercover?", you rambled on, "Also his body's crazy," you added as an afterthought, almost whispering it to yourself.

Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at this, inadvertently looking down at his own abdomen before responding, "How do you know he's got a nice body under that suit?"

"You can literally see his abs through the suit! Duh!", you tutted at him as if he were an idiot to question you.

"Ah, right. My bad," he chuckled, "Okay, whatever. Just pay attention to the movie. You can ramble about him all you want after we finish, okay?," he held up his pinky towards you in a childish fashion, grinning when you giggled at him and intertwined your pinky with him, grumbling a 'fine' in mock annoyance.

Now with you both putting your focus on the movie, — Jungkook's all-time favorite, Back to the Future — Jungkook had the opportunity to lose himself to his own head, thinking about your recent obsession with Spiderman — New York's newest hero.

After Spiderman's recent appearance at an encounter with the Avengers in Germany, followed by a more prominent presence in the streets of New York with a revamped suit, you had instantly formed an intense interest in the masked man. Prior to that, the hero was mostly a man hidden in the shadows — a myth to all those in Queens. Almost immediately upon his return to New York he became a sensation across the world, but specially around the area in which he'd serve the people and fight all evil around.

Among all those fans stood you, maybe the biggest of them all.

It didn't take you long to develop a liking to the masked man upon his sudden resurgence. Jungkook had known you to get overly invested in your interests (there had been a few instances throughout your friendship where you'd demonstrated as such), but he never thought you'd be the type to develop such a blatant crush on someone you virtually knew nothing about. Past the fact that he was the youngest addition to the Avengers, there was not much information about Spiderman out to the general public, yet you were quite loud about your crush on him to everyone you knew — especially to Jungkook, who just so happened to be your best friend.

Unfortunately to Jungkook, you were entirely unaware that the man you were actually crushing on was your best friend in disguise.

And even more unfortunate to him, you were even more unaware of Jungkook's own crush on you.

Did this count? Were you technically crushing on Jungkook?

He chose to go for the most pesimistic answer and assume that your interest in Spiderman would immediately die upon finding out his real identity. Throughout your many years of knowing each other — all through the ups and downs of middle school and high school all the way to university — you'd never once shown anything but platonic interest in him.

To be fair, Jungkook also never gave you any clear indication of his feelings for you. He liked to think that he was discrete about it; that you had no idea of the embarrassing crush he'd been cultivating since freshman year of high school. Fortunately, you appeared to be far too oblivious to it, leaving Jungkook to hold not one but two life-altering secrets, never once considering letting you in on either of them.

For now, all Jungkook could do was make up lame excuses for his sudden absences and to grumble any time Spiderman's name was brought up. Part of him held disdain for Spiderman due to having to keep him a secret from you, but most of his dislike was born out of jealousy over your interest in him. What did he have that Jungkook didn't? Nothing! But he could never tell you that, leading him to a never-ending dilema that he could entrust in no one.

The movie left his mind for the next of the night, much more so when you seemed to become disinterested again, cuddling against him as you prepared to let yourself fall asleep. This was common in your relationship, though it was always strictly platonic. It always left Jungkook wanting more, but still content at having you by his side.

...

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[swordoffrivolousthings]

The gods in PJO are not godly enough, in my opinion

I will start this rant by saying that this is only one of my problems with the PJO series. I understand why Riordan has humanized them, I know this is a middle school age book series. But I am older and I want to make them freaky and strange and kind of eldritch. With little to no explanation as for my choices.

ZEUS. He is the Olympian king of the gods, god of the sky, weather, law and order, destiny and fate and kingship. He is the law, as any king is. Every word he says is godly law, every little order will be followed. He is the king. So, he is stone-faced, made of marble, with no expression other than thoughtfulness and severeness (even if he sometimes isn't). His eyes are pure lightning, the hurricanes that ravage the world and the gentlest of summer rains. Most days, when he speaks of future events, they tend to happen that way, if not overruled by a higher power. His very presence is the ozone layer being brought down, heavy, tiring mortals and demigods out quickly. He treads lightly, with steps like gentle patters of rain, but his every breath is thunder.

HERA. The goddess of marriage, women, the sky and the stars of heaven, and the Olympian queen of the gods. Marriage, despite her own being something less than aspiring, is sacred. Couples that marry are under her protection, she still blesses their marriages. She sky shifts with her emotions, getting darker and night starting to fall. Her himation worn over her head, the only garment visible, reflecting the sky above. Her eyes, two bright stars, seeing something more than human perception can begin to understand.

POSEIDON. Olympian god of the sea, earthquakes, floods, drought and horses. His body is not, just from the corner of the eye, made of muscle, bones and tendons. Water, swirling and moving in the shape of a man, the odd strand of algae. Then you turn and he is barely human, but not saltwater. The waves seek and tug at his heels whenever he walks along the beach. His eyes, oceanic tectonic plates crashing, sending tsunamis to devastate the world. The air around him is salty, sea air clinging to his skin. Algae appear in his wake, reeking of the sea.

DEMETER. Olympian goddess of agriculture, grain and bread who sustained mankind with the earth's rich bounty. In her wake, every step makes a grain sprout, growing tall and healthy, and nothing can take it down. The seasons are slowly blooming and booming in her presence, the spring more verdant, the summer hotter, autumn plentiful beyond measure and winter always frigid. From behind her ears sprout oats and barley, always young and vibrant green, crowning her in the coming bounty. Her eyes are the colour of wheat, and when the wind blows the shadows in her eyes move with it.

ARES. Olympian god of war, battlelust, courage and civil order. He is war, bloody and cruel, senseless, personified. His very presence makes fights break out, indignities and betrayals happen. He is an oppressive force that bring the bravery out of the people, along with all the hate. If he stays long enough in one place, even Olympus, war breaks out, be it civil or not. This is why he never stays in one place too long. He is luting for blood, but war had wearied him. He will not do the same mistake twice, even in war. His eyes are the open wounds of soldiers, bleeding, infected, dying skin and rotting meat.

ATHENA. Olympian goddess of wisdom and good counsel, war, the defence of towns, heroic endeavour, weaving, pottery and various other crafts. Every tapestry and pot and garment worked by hand that is not up to her godly standard shrivels and turns to ash in her presence, obliterated by her beyond-human perfectioned craft. Towns are instantly protected when she is there, good grace and godly favour. War, like Ares, follows her. It is not kinder, nor is it bearable. Calculated, cold, some would argue that her wars are crueler, sadistic. Eyes like garment fiber and shattered pots, blood covering them.

APOLLO. Olympian god of prophecy and oracles, music, song and poetry, archery, healing, plague and disease, and the protection of the young. The sun, a power passed on, burns under his skin. It is the worst in the summer months, when the sun is more preeminent. His music, lighting every room in shades of enticement, is otherworldly, his voice, be it in song or word, is a mastery of perfection. From his hands, a single touch can be salvation or sickness. His arrows, silver for his twin, always strike true, no matter the target. His presence brings prophecies and fates to light. The power of the sun is in his eyes.

ARTEMIS. Olympian goddess of hunting, the wilderness and wild animals. She was also a goddess of childbirth, and the protectress of the girl child up to the age of marriage. Around her sprout forests, wild and untainted, a world where humans could get lost in and never be found again. Wild animals prowl after her, protectors and friends of her hunters. When the night is darkest, a power inherited, her skin lights up, a moon to shine in the dark of the shadows. Her hunters, her girls, are protected and her wrath is painful and cruel, like her domains, and they are recognisable by their golden arrows.

HEPHAESTUS. Olympian god of fire, smiths, craftsmen, metalworking, stonemasonry and sculpture. Beneath his skin flames are visible, a moving part of him, like tattoos. Every piece of metal he works with, no matter how briefly, turns into beatiful and powerful tools, an art all of their own. His buildings are steady and everlasting, the stone protected by his touch. His eyes, the hammer hitting metal, are coloured in such a way that they resemble statue's eyes.

APHRODITE. Olympian goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation. Born of sea foam and godly blood, the salt clings to her. Curls her hair and makes her glow, the power of the sea just under her perfect skin. Everyone finds something beautiful in the face of beauty. It is enchanting, a spell most can hardly exist. She is everything everyone could ever want, a goddess for everyone's taste. Yet her anger is born of the sea, a cruel and unforgiving sort of death. To make love dislike you is to lose it all in the blink of an eye. To disrespect a goddess means death.

HERMES. Olympian god of herds and flocks, travellers and hospitality, roads and trade, thievery and cunning, heralds and diplomacy, language and writing, athletic contests and gymnasiums, astronomy and astrology. He speaks in languages long lost, and his travel notes are written in queer glyphs and writing systems. Sheep like him, without doubt. The souls of humans clash and itch to follow him when he enters a room, beyond willing to be taken to the underworld. The stars illuminate his path, a road he knows by heart but they don't care. They will guide him, no matter what.

DIONYSUS. Olympian god of wine, vegetation, pleasure, festivity, madness and wild frenzy. Vines grow from his footsteps, water and seawater and nectar and any other drink turn to wine in his hand. Where he is, the frenzied, happy and drunk follow, a retinue of people that enjoy and enjoy and enjoy. There is nothing not to like at first glance, and only at first glance. When one looks closer, the insanity begins. It is like sparks in his eyes, a nonsensical word past his lips. When you look closer at the people, there is no happiness in the thaws of madness.

HESTIA. The virgin goddess of the hearth and the home. It does not make her kind, because the gods rarely are. It makes her steady, the fire in the home that keeps the chill away from making itself at home. The fire that lights the way back home, sacred in temples and to extinguish it is to forsake her favour. Homes she has blessed are cozy, full of love, of safety. It does not make them fireproof.

HADES. The king of the underworld and god of the dead. He, king over bones and lost memories. His wife, unnamable, his presence like the heavy hand of time on mortal shoulders. Bones and skulls and the wispy whisper of the lost are his retinue. Half decomposed corpses his servants and valets and butlers. His name, scorned, is never said but on the eve of the winter solstice, when death is the surest companion. His eyes, dark but brittle as bone, promise something any other god can't understand.

PERSEPHONE. Goddess queen of the underworld, wife of the god Hades. She was also the goddess of spring growth. Her presence brings with it the smell of the first flowers of spring, little by little making the world greener. But her steps are always silent, always just a little far from the ground. She is a queen, death is her and her husband's domain. Of course she is ghostly, terrifying. Her perfume is of freshly dug earth and autumnal rain, the weeps of widows and widowers, the death of the young and elderly. Her name is unspoken, a curse when invoked. You will not hear her name on Olympus, in mortal mouths. Kore, Despoena, her titles are safe. Her eye is not benevolent, when it's attention is captured.