#THANKFULLY an empty court

[piningeddiediaz]

accidentally clicked play on my music at work so DRAW A CAT EYE SHARP ENOUGH TO KILL A MAN just started playing in court

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: omegeverse, bullying, near noncon, sexual assault, somewhat fluff

♡ FEM reader

Plenty of Alphas would think you’re a cute Omega, so he’s had to be careful with keeping you away from prying, preying, predatory eyes. 

It's a hard feat, you know?!

Thankfully, after all his berating comments, you’ve resorted to wearing bigger and baggier clothing, which in turn has resulted in you fading into the background despite being a rather desirable Omega for any Alpha who’d bother to look. A good thing. He’s the only one who should be allowed to see your body anyway. The bad thing, of course, is the backlash—where, because of his benevolent mockery, you don’t want anything to do with him anymore.

But what can he expect when he bullies you? 

He hadn’t wanted to. Honestly, you pushed him to it when you started wearing all those short skirts and small tops where he could see your bra straps. Of course, he had to say something! For your protection! You can’t go parading around like that! Everyone would think you’re up for grabs when you most certainly are not! 

So yes, he had to tell you to cover up—that you look like a common cheap whore when you dress up in so little, that you look desperate for it, that even a bitch in her heat would have more dignity, that you ought to mask your scent glands before someone takes the open invitation as is.

Was he a little harsh? Yes. Could he have said it differently? Yes. Does he know how? No!

And now you hate him—and want nothing to do with him. Skittering away any time you see him. Hiding yourself. A sad look on your pretty face as you hang your head and run away somewhere you can be alone.

He feels bad. But… at least you’re kept out of everyone’s reach this way—so he has the time to make you his before another Alpha catches sight of you and does better at courting you than him. Yes, this way, you’re hidden and safe and secret—kept as his buried treasure until he finds the courage to come find you again.

“Oh, come on, I said I was sorry—now just take it off already,” some guy standing over you drawls with his canines on display.

You’d sought out the empty classroom to be alone, but now you were drenched in milk and surrounded by a pack. It was still unsure whether the guy with the carton had done it on purpose or not. But the result was the same—a soaked sweater and a pushy Alpha trying to lift it off as if in an act of assistance.

The mixed crowd of Alphas and Betas all stand watch, keeping you trapped in the classroom with them while you cower beneath the bigger hands pulling on your milk-soaked sweater—easily prying it off against your will and leaving you in the wee little crop top you had on underneath.

The guy whistles shortly, leering across your exposed figure with a sloppy grin. “So this what you’ve been hiding under all these lumpy clothes, huh?”

The crowd jeers behind him, egging him on with catcalls and hollers. Making him laugh as he towers over you, throwing your sweater to the floor with a splat before coming to grab your wrists, keeping you from covering up.

“Who’d’ve known, huh?” His grip is painful where you try and fight it, nearly enough to snap your joints, as he spins you against his chest and shows you off to the thrilled onlookers—pretty cleavage and all, and that unmarked neck that has them all drool. “Such a pretty little Omega right beneath our noses all this time.”

“Please—” you whimper, shying away with your eyes closed shut and your lip tucked between your teeth.

“Aw~" your manhandler croons, nuzzling his chin into the grove of your neck, then whispering hotly at you ear, “Don’t worry, sugar—they’re just going to witness. Only I will be doing the honors.”

The tears spring loose as the panic grips your chest. “Stop—stop it—” 

Before you can think, you’re already lifting your heel and planting it down on his toes—hard—making him roar and loosen his grip for only a split-second opportunity to escape. And in the small moment, you break free—attempting to run away, only for the crowd to catch you and throw you right back—all of them chuckling at your cute effort as if it were all some game to them—making you their unwilling toy. 

“Some nerve on you, huh,” their leader mutters in a growl, angry now, gripping you even harsher before slamming you down over a desk, bent at the hips with your face against the wood. “Tch—denying an Alpha like that…” His hand finds your hair, tangling the tresses to get a meaner hold on your head, keeping you down as he slots his crotch right against your rear—voice at your ear as he bends over you in a closing trap. “I oughta teach yah some manners.”

You sniffle, writhing and shaking with broken sobs now, hearing the belt being undone, “No, please—I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey, jackass.” A voice declares from the crowd. You can’t see through the blur of your eyes, but you’re sure his silhouette hadn’t been there before. “Quite sure she told you to fuck off.”

You don’t know what happened next—it all went by too quick for you to catch—but one moment, you’re held firm against the desk, and in another, you’re behind someone—the newcomer—standing between you and the others, his broad back turned to you and both his hands clenched up into fists by his side. 

Closer now, you know who it is by his scent. And, although it shouldn't—because he broke your heart with so many nasty words—it brings on a rush of relief so profound that, for a moment, you can’t help but want to forgive him for it all.

You peek around his arm to see your manhandler on his ass on the floor, a bloody crooked nose with a warped look on his face, glaring up at your unlikely protector. “Tch—” He gets up—flustered by the looks of it—casting you a mean glare as he brushes himself off, spitting out a “Not worth it” before whipping around and leaving—with all his lackeys following in suit.

And then it’s silent. Beyond awkward as your bully-turned-saviour turns halfway around. You’re still crying. And his fists won’t unwind. He knows he ought to ask you if you’re okay, but it seems like such a dumb question. And he already knows the answer.

He scoffs—this is unbelievable. He thought making you hide yourself away would make you invisible, but you just can’t help but attract attention, can you? The worst unwanted kind at that!

Shit. He sighs, then grips the edges of his sweater and pulls it off over his head. Balling it up, before reaching it out to you. Muttering under his breath, bowed head and all, “Cover up already.”

You’re unsure whether it’s a welcomed offer or not. You know it probably shouldn’t, but somehow… it still feels comforting. And so, you accept it. Taking it in your hands, you pull it on and let it dwarf you like a big, cozy safety blanket. 

“Thanks,” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself—hugging the fabric close and, with it, his scent—which, for some unknown and odd reason, somehow makes you feel all better.

“Y’know…” he begins, looking at the floor. “Stick to wearin’ my sweaters, and my scent will keep you safe.”

And there he goes, saying what he ought to have told you from the very start.

And though it doesn’t make up for his actions, it does shine a light on them.

You suppose beggars can’t be choosers, and this dumb Alpha is what you’ve been stuck with. The part of your heart that broke back when he’d been so mean you thought you’d never be able to breathe again slowly pieces itself back together—leaving a fuzzy warmth inside that has you blush.

 “Is that so…”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Enji ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Megumi, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Oikawa, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Sanemi ♡ WB – Sakura

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[azrielbrainrot]

Silent Voices Speak

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: Both you and Azriel find yourselves with some sleep related problems. Who would have thought you could be each other's remedy?

Warnings: barely any angst

Word Count: 3400

Notes: I can't believe it took me so long to write a new story in the healer!reader universe, they're my first babies. Hope you enjoy!

Healer!Reader Universe Masterlist

The killings hadn't stopped. The, by now, tripled security slowed them down and allowed the Inner Circle to be made aware of any disturbances quicker, and the bodies hadn't been found by any innocent civilians since then either, thankfully saving a lot of fae from having to witness such gruesome sights, but the killings hadn't stopped.

Your research has given you some clues as to the motives behind the murders, though you still can't fully understand the ritual behind them. None of the information you've gathered has helped in stopping them from happening or finding the people responsible for them. Amren has traveled to the Day Court and is now searching the High Lord's extensive libraries to try and find more information on a lead she got but, for now, there wasn't enough to make anyone feel safer.

The streets of Velaris felt lifeless, bars and restaurants closing earlier than usual given the unofficial curfew every fae seemed to have set for themselves. The City of Dreamers, heart of the Night Court, was scared of the dark. Apart from the killings, that was what weighed the heaviest on the Inner Circle's minds.

Feyre and Rhysand had been forthcoming with information, letting the public know they were actively searching for the killers and sharing some of the details as a means to stop the rumors that kept going around that were only exaggerating the already awful murders the more they spread. Of course, they'd been careful not to reveal any of the more gruesome details, or the fact that everything pointed to the murders actually being sacrifices to what could be an old God or even worse.

Those had been the details keeping you up at night as you were now, sipping on chamomile tea in hopes of relaxing your body enough to get some sleep without any unwanted thoughts filtering through and spoiling it once again. You wanted to help as much as you could, and weren't considering talking to Rhys and backing down as Azriel had suggested multiple times, but you weren't used to witnessing this much cruelty, not like this.

When you'd been stationed as a healer during the war, you saw a lot of awful things, some of them you won't ever forget, but this felt different. Everything about these killings and the motives behind them had set off every alarm in your body.

The cup was empty before you realized, bringing it up to your mouth only to be met with nothing. You let out a sigh and look over to the comfortable bed, knowing you had to at least lay down and try to fall asleep, no matter how frustrating it was to toss and turn for hours on end or get woken up by terrifying dreams. At least this bed was a lot more comfortable than the one you had at home, it almost made you want to ask Rhysand where he got it from although you probably would never be able to afford it.

You're not entirely sure what brought it on but, after coming back from yet another fruitless mission, Azriel asked you to stay in the townhouse with him. You tried to decline, not entirely comfortable with staying at the High Lord's house indefinitely. You've spent some nights up in the House of Wind when you were helping with research, but this was different. You didn't want to take advantage of Rhysand and Feyre's kindness, but Azriel insisted, a tormented look you weren't used to seeing painted in the shadowsinger's face, and so you ended up accepting.

Just remembering your talk that night made you feel hopeless, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better and take some of the unbearable weight off his shoulders somehow.

“I'm not sure this is necessary,” you try to reason with him, “There haven't been any attacks in the city, with so many eyes on the streets it would be impossible.”

“It also seemed impossible for them to be able to hide for so long but even my shadows are blind to them.”

“I can't stay at my High Lord and Lady's home."

“I can't sleep not knowing you're safe,” the admission feels heavy between you, prompting you to study his face carefully, taking note of the fear and desperation behind his request. “I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“Azriel…”

You don't know what to say, not sure what this means for the two of you.

“Please.”

But with that little word he convinced you, not caring if it was Rhysand's house you were going to sleep in, or anyone else's, as long as it made Azriel feel at least a bit more at ease.

Your relationship has been changing ever since that fateful night when he kissed your cheek goodnight. It's a silly thought even now, that something so inconsequential as a peck to the cheek would end up meaning so much for the two of you.

Ever since that day your talks have gotten longer and more frequent, Azriel has also flown you to and from work a few times, has taken you on multiple outings that you can only classify as dates at this point. But things hadn't gotten further than that and more chaste kisses on the cheek.

The timing wasn't right. Not with everything that has been happening and the troubles filling both of your minds, the long hours Azriel had been putting his body through trying to find even the smallest clue about these murders, and your assistance in any research the Inner Circle needs as well as providing mental and physical aid to a terrified city.

Your feelings for him were impossible to deny - even though you've certainly tried to when everyone else asks about him, especially your High Lady, who you've come to learn is an avid busybody, - and you were more than confident that he cared for you just as much, but the timing wasn't right, and so you've been stuck between acting like friends and so much more.

You were still thinking about the shadowsinger when your head hit the pillow, making yourself comfortable and letting your thoughts wander around warm hazel eyes and shy smiles, hopefully lulling you into a peaceful sleep at last.

Rushed murmurs and harsh breaths take you away from the soft grasp of sleep. You try to ignore them at first but as the words grow louder, you try to decipher them confused. A flurry of shadows filters into your room, flying over you when you open your eyes to try and ascertain the situation. You can barely see them with the low lights the moon rays covered by dark curtains provide, but it almost feels like they're tugging at you, urging you to get up.

The thought that Azriel could be in danger makes you leap out of bed, foregoing your robe or slippers as you follow the frantic shadows to his room next to yours. Only hesitating at the door for a moment, knuckles raised against the intricately designed wood as you considered knocking before barging into his room unannounced, but another string of groans and panicked breathing assault your ears, prompting you to open the door.

Your eyes land on the shadowsinger immediately as he lay restless on his bed, blinking a few times as you adjusted to the dim lighting, his room being even darker than yours. A small sigh of relief escapes you when you find him unharmed, although you soon realize that the noises you heard were the result of what appears to be a particularly consuming and terrifying nightmare.

He had struggled so much in his sleep that the sheets were completely thrown off, laying by his feet as his body tossed and turned uninterrupted. A light sheen of sweat covered him, telling you he'd been at this for a while. There was a familiar glint of blue on his nightstand, as Truth Teller and two of his siphons lay close by. You tried not to linger on the fact that he didn't appear to be wearing anything else aside from underwear for too long.

Some of the shadows that swirled around the room meet the ones that had brought you here, moving over you once more as if asking you to save their singer. You wanted to help them, but you're not entirely sure if you should he seeing him like this, if he'd want you to see him so vulnerable.

Aside from that, waking up someone when they were so immersed in a dream, especially a nightmare, could be dangerous and bring more harm than good. Still, you couldn't leave him like this and go back to your room, so you decide to try and call his name softly, hoping the noise or familiarity will be enough to help him wake up in a more organic way.

“Azriel?”

You hesitate in the doorway, feeling like you were already invading his space, but as another weak cry escapes him your body moves on its own. You're at the edge of the bed before you even notice, repeating his name and shaking him softly so as not to startle him too much.

The pain was evident on his face. You didn't know what he was dreaming of but you knew you had to pull him out of there fast. You've never seen him so distressed. Watching him like this felt like a chain was tightening around your heart and lungs, making it hard for you to breathe or think.

At a slightly harder push, his eyes open, one scarred hand moving to grab your wrist, stopping you from touching him, as the other met to the nightstand, finding the hilt of his dagger. His hazel eyes were open wide, clearly disoriented by not only the nightmare but also having someone in his room. You expected nothing less from the Spymaster, of course he couldn't be so easily caught off guard even in his own room, but the tight grip was becoming too much, and you knew it was bruising, not being able to stop yourself from cringing softly at the pain.

As he understands the situation, wide eyes blinking multiple times as the waking world comes into focus, he drops your wrist and pulls away from you, sitting up and almost bumping his head against the headboard in his rush.

Neither of you moves or speaks for a moment, his heavy breathing the only thing that can be heard in the dark room. You wanted to turn the faelights on, to properly check on him, but Azriel always prefered the dark, feeling much more at ease surrounded by it. In fact, his shadows had hurried to him as soon as he woke up.

When his wide gaze settles into a frown, hazel eyes dropping to your wrist, you decide to speak up. You know that look and this was not the time for any other worries that might be growing in his mind, certainly none that concerned you.

“Azriel,” you whisper, not wanting to startle him, “Are you okay?”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No-”

“I shouldn't have hurt you,” he says, more to himself than to you, haunted eyes never straying from your wrist. You had only wanted to help, but now it feels like you made it worse by coming here.

“No, it's my fault. I know better than to wake someone up from a nightmare,” you swallow, throat suddenly dry, “but it looked like you were in pain and I couldn't leave you like this.”

He seemed unwilling to listen to you, a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head the only answer he gave you as you told him it wasn't his fault. Azriel is always too aware of himself, never allows himself any mistakes, as if he thinks he has to prove himself worthy of the life he leads. You don't even want to know what's going through his head now that he's convinced himself he hurt someone he cares about.

You let out a sigh when it was clear he wasn't going to say anything or acknowledge you further, you could almost see him receding into his own mind, getting consumed by his betraying thoughts. If you had listened to your training, you might not have ended up in this situation.

Slowly and very carefully, you move closer to him, giving him time to push you away or stop you if he wanted to. You only stop when your bare knee brushes his thigh, the warmth of his skin spreading through yours. Reaching for his hand, you interlock your fingers and squeeze softly, his eyes finally meeting yours.

“I shouldn't have grabbed you like that.” The pain was evident in his face, and it hurt you far more to think he was beating himself up than your wrist ever did. “I'm sorry.”

“There's no reason to be sorry,” you smile up at him, trying your best to soothe him, “You were disoriented and moved to protect yourself, that's all.”

He still looks unwilling to let go of his guilt, but you can see him settling back into himself, his usual calm expression falling over his beautiful face. He lets go of your hand in favor of cradling your wrist, carefully inspecting it as if he was looking at a broken bone and not at a bruise that would be completely healed within the hour. Caressing the soft skin with his thumb lightly, the scarred skin and affection behind the movement causing goosebumps to erupt.

“You didn't answer my question. Are you alright?”

Azriel looks up at you then, a conflicted look falling over his face once more. It seems he had been too focused on your wrist to remember the nightmare, and the fact that you'd seen him like that. You're almost positive he hates the fact that you've seen him like that even more than whatever haunted his nightmares. He's always been an extremely private person, so you can't even imagine what it feels like for him to be seen in such a vulnerable light by someone he barely knows.

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” the expression on his face telling you he doesn't believe it, “You didn't. I've been finding it hard to sleep with everything that has been going on.”

“You're safe here.”

“I know, I've just had too much on my mind.” It feels like you're doing this wrong, you're the one that should be worried about him, not the other way around. “Your shadows came into my room and I heard movement so I came to check on you.”

Disapprovement flashes in his eyes, directed at his shadows of course. You'd find it adorable how he treats his shadows like misbehaving children if it weren't for the situation. Hopefully he won't be too harsh on them, you can almost feel the lecture coming. You're not entirely sure how much they can feel, if they can at all, but they had done good in going to find you, even if Azriel reprimanded them for it.

“I didn't know they could do that without you being conscious. They were very helpful,” you smile down at the dark wisps stationed over his shoulders. He clearly didn't agree with you, a soft scoff escaping his lips, but you hope this is enough for them to know they can come to find you in this type of situation from now on. You don't want Azriel to suffer on his own when you're there for him.

“Thank you,” you look up at him in surprise, “You didn't have to come. It was only a nightmare.”

It's not as surprising that he doesn't want to tell you what the nightmare was about, or even change the subject. If he wants to pretend this never happened come morning, you're more than welcome to oblige, as long as he feels better and knows you're always ready to lend a helping hand.

“You can come to me for anything, Azriel,” your hand finds his once again, thumb caressing the scarred skin on the back of his hand. “I'll always be here for you.”

He holds your gaze in an intense stare, the swirl of emotions written in his eyes becoming almost too much to bear, and still you're unable to break away from the all-consuming hazel. It seems like the world stops around you for a moment, and there's only you and him.

As your surroundings return slowly, you suddenly become too aware of the position you're in, of what it would look like if someone walked in. They would find you sitting on his bed, right next to him, lost in his eyes, hands clasped together between you, disheveled hair and half lidded eyes. The lack of clothing only added to the sight, you had never been so conscious of how short and thin the nightgown you wore to sleep was. You can only be grateful that Azriel doesn't sleep completely naked, though his underwear barely leaves anything to the imagination, and your imagination is desperate to run wild.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as the thought settles in your mind, clearing your throat softly to try and break yourself out of those thoughts. Looking up at the suddenly captivating pattern painted on his dark navy walls when his gaze becomes too much. You could swear you saw the corner of his lip rise as he likely noticed the effect he had on you. This was a good thing, it was like the Azriel you're used to, but you needed to get back on track.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep?” You try to untangle your fingers from his but he holds onto your hand, unwilling to let go of you just yet. “I can get you some tea to help you relax if you can't, or maybe we could go for a walk instead?”

Tiring him out could be a good idea, although his body is probably beyond exhausted from the long hours he's been putting himself through. Maybe tea was the best option.

“Can you stay with me?”

His words cut through your racing thoughts, your lips parting in surprise. You had half expected him to kick you out of his bedroom when he came to, inviting you into his bed was the last thing you would have seen coming.

“What?”

“I think I can sleep if you stay,” he whispers, “but if you don't feel comfortable-”

“I don't mind staying,” you rush to assure him with burning cheeks, thankfully matching his own, “You just caught me off guard that's all.”

Azriel offers you a tired smile and, with a wave of his hand, fixes the sheets, moving to the middle of the bed so you have enough room to settle next to him. Your movements are painfully awkward as you lay down next to him, all too aware of every inch of your body, heart beating out of your chest.

While you're in the middle of deciding how to safely position your hands, stiff body frozen in place, he takes matters into his own hands, an achingly fond smile playing at his lips, his hand falling to the small of your back and pulling you in closer to his body, his scent enveloping you.

Azriel closes his eyes, breathing out a soft, “relax.” Your hand finds his chest, body slowly but surely melting into him as you do as he says and will your mind to stop wandering. Letting the soft beats of his heart calm yours, you decide to listen to your body, and fall into him, arm wrapping around his waist as you inch even closer, your chest finding his, tangling your legs until you can't know where you end and he begins. His grip on you tightens as a satisfied sigh escapes him, one heavy wing falling over your body, until you're impossibly close.

Your face now only a breath away from his, your nose bumping into his chin as he drops a soft kiss to your forehead and nuzzles into you, breathing you in. You almost catch yourself purring as you lay in his arms, completely surrounded by Azriel.

Tangled up in each other's warmths, sleep found you both easily, finally allowing you a few peaceful hours of sleep after the grueling weeks you've endured.

[writingsofwesteros]

I am obsessed with Jamie can you do a fic like Jamie x servant reader and they have like a few kids and cersie hates her I would die if you did

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

It was an open secret. One, even the old lion himself had long accepted and was one step away from legitimising his son’s bastard children. Still, you enjoyed the intimate, secret space you and Jaime had carved for yourselves. Especially as the harsh glares of the Lioness Queen herself followed each step you took. “Mama!” The sweet call of your baby girl allowed those thoughts to leave you; if only for the moment. “Are you running from your lessons?” Gently, you caught her in your arms as she burrowed into your skirts. Skirts that were far too expensive for your station as were the clothes on your daughter. In fact, the chambers you stood in and claimed your own were far above what you should have. The soft sunlight moved in through the cotton curtains; a small breeze blowing them. “No mama!” She giggled out. You only hummed, not believing your sweetheart for a moment as she reached for your delicate, ringed hand. Your free hand slowly moved over the slight bump that the large amount of fabric hid; if only for now. “We shall go and find your brothers, hmm?” A soft smile came over you as she bobbed her head in excitement. Her little hand clung to your own as you finally gathered the courage to leave the chambers. Your fingers began to play with her bright locks as the both of you wandered through the corridor that was thankfully empty.

It did not stop your heart from pounding in your ears as you looked down to your child once more. It was easy to find them as you followed the noise of swords hitting each other. “Are they training again and ignoring you, sweet girl?” “Yes mama!” She grabbed at your skirts once more; cuddling on your side whilst your giggles echoed. “So mean they are.” You fought to keep her spirits up as your lovely daughter stepped forward; the guards pushing open the large, wooden doors. The raised platform allowed for the whole training courtyard to be in view as you stepped in; hand in hand with your daughter.

A curtsy and a bow of your head that your sweet daughter copied gracefully was your greeting to the King and Queen. Cersei’s eyes of envy moved over your figure as you fought the gulp coming to your throat. Still, it was the sight of the hound himself on the training court that had your heart frantically pounding in your ears. A flicker of a smirk came across the Queen’s face as you gracefully moved yourself and your daughter to the other side of the platform. “Shall we see who can better the heir himself?” Cersei hummed; dark amusement flooding her eyes as she turned to you. With strength that surprised even yourself; you stared ahead. 

Her daughter’s gentle hand kept a hold of your skirts as the sight of your twin boys came into view. You could not stop the step you took as your hand rested on the viewing platform. Thankfully, your daughter only saw the excitement in the movements below. Nervously, you began to bite into your plump, bottom lip. Their sweet, soft faces broke out into a smile as they noticed you and for a moment, you were flooded with love. A graceful wave was what you gave them before Joffrey came into view with his famous scowl in place. The hold on your daughter’s hand only tightened as the sparring match between the boys began.

You made the mistake of looking to the side and noticed the look Tywin Lannister himself gave you. His eyes that held such intelligence looked over your body before the arrival of your lover held your attention. As ever, the tension began to rise when the two of you were in the same room; as Jaime did not hide his enjoyment of you. Thankfully, it seemed your sweet girl had learned her lessons about calling for her father, especially in public. It did not stop Jaime from making his way over to you. It was shown instantly as the knight pressed a soft touch to your hip as he moved on the other side of your daughter. It was not long before you were giving him your complete attention.

“I have missed you.” Jaime whispered without shame as his hand gently rests on the small bump your dress hid. A scoff was heard from the other side of the platform and the both of you ignored the sound from the Queen. His free hand ruffled the golden locks of your daughter who in turn giggled and reached for his hand. “And I you.” You finally allowed yourself to admit even as you ducked your head once more in shyness. Thankfully, the training below brought the attention away from the sight happening in front of them. Your heart was caught in your mouth at the hits Joffrey was roughly placing down on your son’s shields, the act only had you leaning closer over the edge.

“Do not worry so much.” Jaime whispered into your ear but how could you not. “How can I not?” You replied as your hold on the wood only tightened. “I would not let anything happen to them.” His words only brought a slight comfort to yourself. The knight beside you could only protect your family for so long, you knew that. It seemed Jaime as ever held on to the naivety his father would discourage him from displaying. You could not help but find it endearing. His hand gently stroked your lower back and you could not stop yourself from relaxing into his touch. Your daughter sweetly reached for his hand that was thankfully out of sight.

The small bubble around your trio burst as a crash sounded out from below. Your head snapped to the side before you realised. A near sigh of relief came over you as you noticed it was Joffrey on the floor. “Robert!” You heard the Queen yell as she lost her composure. The sight of your twins staring down at him with such a look you had never seen before caused panic to stir.

“Jaime…” You softly whispered; worry etched on your face and tone as your daughter clung to your side now. The lion only stared at you for a moment before he was moving to the stairs; Cersei moved to call for her son now. Gracefully, you followed; arms reaching for your twins as you ushered them away to a quiet corner. “What has happened here?” Robert called out; annoyance dripping from his tone as Cersei cooed over Joffrey. “He called my mother a whore!” Your eldest called out, the name had you flinching and for a mere second, the lioness in front of you smirked. Your eyes twitched in rage as you brought your son closer as Jaime watched on with an unreadable expression.

“Father.” His voice was cold as he locked eyes with the old lion who had been silent. You could hear your heart pounding as the two of them moved to take their conversation elsewhere; ignoring the King and Queen completely. You clutched at your children and fought against the blush threatening to come over you at the attention. “Come..let us return to your chambers.” The anger vibrating from your son was clear to see as you tried to steer your children back home. 

You knew this was only the beginning.

[asapeveryday]

SHOCK FACTOR ★彡PART 5

Prev. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: a lot of media attention and some solo time isn’t enough to keep paige away from you.

A/n: one more chap after this then we done 😛

YOU WAKE UP with a pounding headache, not as engulfing as last night but still enough to induce a groan as you lift your head from your pillow.

The hotel-white pillowcase is smeared with residual makeup and your hair feels tangled and unruly. It was surprising how well you slept, seeing as multiple things had happened the night before that should’ve kept you up till morning. You look around to see the hotel room is empty, then check your phone for the time. It’s 1:34pm, you’ve slept into the afternoon.

Your phone is absolutely filled with notifications.

JUJU-KINS😘

U up?

Coach is lit tweaking rn

U bouta be getting media trained FOR LIFE

ELAINEY 🤞

hey

can we talk pls?

ur only in town for a couple more days

it’s not as bad as it seems i swear

i was drunk

COACH

Call me when you see this message.

I hope you already know what you’ve done wrong so I don’t have to waste my time.

You’re smarter than this!

Collapsing on your bed again, you bury yourself in the sheets. Being in Connecticut had just turned out to be a nightmare, you’ve barely interacted with your teammates, your friendship with Elaine was ruined, you’ve had the most confusing relationship with Paige and you’ve made a fool of yourself online.

You shoot a quick text to Juju as well as some other teammates who’ve checked up on you, being sure to ignore Elaine’s texts. You find yourself re-reading your messages with Paige, thankfully your drunk brain hadn’t texted anything too out of pocket, and though you clearly remember her typing after your last message she hadn’t responded since then.

Your call with Coach was the most dreaded of all, you truly respected and feared her, so sitting through an almost half-hour phone call about your responsibilities, failures, expectations and repercussions was awful.

In short, you were to be off of social media until back in state, live privileges were fully revoked, if you were to be found partying and clubbing you’d be in massive trouble, you had to issue a statement on Instagram and twitter (which was pre-written by some professional), and the next practice you participate in will be the worst practice you’ve ever experienced in the history of bad practices. Most probably an insane amount of sprints.

You release your statements on Instagram and Twitter, but before deleting the apps you check out Paige’s comments. She’d obviously received a similar order. Her Instagram story consisted of a black screen and a small box of text, simply entailing how spreading love and positivity while uplifting other players is an obligation she intends to follow from this point onwards.

Her twitter had two new tweets:

paigebueckers1 : Me and (Name) have had some truly special experiences in college basketball. She’s an amazing player who is only gonna go higher and get better as she grows. When I was a junior I was stuck in crutches hoping for the chance I have now. (Name) as a junior herself is absolutely killing it on the court and I for one will always be rooting for her, competitive comments online or not. Keep doin what you’re doin @yourusername !

paigebueckers1 : God is good! 🙏

Turning your phone off, the only thing you’re thinking is ‘you’re so full of shit.’

You wonder if she wrote that herself or if somebody wrote it for her and made it seem like it was her own typing. Regardless, it didn’t matter anymore. You’d had your experience with the Big East Champion, and it was enough for a lifetime.

The amount of content coming out regarding you and Paige was insanely overwhelming. Debates online regarding your skills, looks, personality and basically anything the public can grasp were rampant. You and Paige had been a bit of a scandal ever since she shaded you on that panel, and the media had been seriously following you two back and forth between the seemingly friendly interactions and more hostile ones.

Eventually you stumble upon something different. A video of you and Paige in the background of KK and Ice’s live that day in the coffee shop. You can see yourself fumbling with napkins, and Paige approaching. It’s almost entrancing to see everything play out from another perspective, to see how her face eases into a smile at your smartass comments, to relive your own amused emotion at her stare, to watch Paige speedily write her number on a napkin before the camera shifts and the live ends.

You’re unsure how to react to all of this. No matter how close or far you could get with Paige, would it ever amount to anything? To the slightest bit of trust? Her lips were almost on yours that evening in the street, but just an hour earlier she had lied to your face about knowing Elaine.

You recall what Elaine drunkenly spat out during your argument outside the bar.

“N’ I’ll tell you what. She’s going to play your ass and you’re never gonna get over it, cus that’s what she does.”

Was this spoken out of experience, or a mixture of jealousy and intoxication? Had Elaine once been that girl on the street, inches away?

You can’t help but think it wasn’t the case. Paige bit her tongue around you to stifle a laugh or to hold back a rebuttal to your teasing. When it came to Elaine, Paige bit her tongue in a different way. A loathing way. You couldn’t explain it.

Plus, Elaine had said herself that you were not Paige’s usual type. If she meant you and her were not alike, that was the truth. You and Paige had more of a history, more similar lifestyles and experiences, more. At least you assumed so.

Finally, you decide you’ve done enough thinking for the day. It was time to line up some plans, maybe meet up with the team for a couple hours and then hoop solo in the evening. Anything to distract from the situation.

-

The sound of a basketball against the blacktop, the hollow bounce that always found itself back to your hand. It’s sustenance to you, it’s breathing.

Storrs had been blessed with a hotter Sunday then usual, even in your shorts and t-shirt you were sweating, shooting hoops the same way you’ve been doing since you were a child.

The court was empty and outdoors, perfect for you to hold the ball for a moment and admire the scenery, the changing colours of the sky as afternoon fades to evening.

You hear the bounce of a ball again, but yours is secured in your hand.

“Hey.”

You’re not surprised to see her. The sink in your stomach as you meet her eyes in almost predictable.

“What are the chances.” You scoff. “Don’t you have like, the entire UConn gym to hoop?”

“I come to this court all the time.” Paige narrows her eyes. “It’s usually peaceful.”

“I figured.” You say curtly, turning your head to see the setting sun. It was very peaceful, even with the impending silence between you and the blonde.

“How drunk were you last night?” Paige asks.

You spin around to give her a look. “Drunk enough to get on live,” You scoff. “but sober enough to read a text and send it without regrets.”

At the mention of your short conversation with Paige over text, you can see her cringe. She obviously hadn’t been expecting you to find out about her relationship with your friend, let alone be so upfront with it.

“I never fucked her in my car…just so you know.” She finally manages to breath out.

You almost bark out a laugh at this. “You think I’m mad cus you fucked her?” You ask, walking towards Paige and lightly dribbling the ball. She simply stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Are you not?”

“Is the blonde fucking seeping into your head?” You snap, mentally celebrating as her lips forms a straight line. “If you don’t know, you better figure it out.”

Paige brings a hand to her face, rubbing her forehead as if it’s aching. Her eyes are wide and analyzing you, thinking of the best way to respond.

“Go on,” you tease her. “tell me why I’m mad.”

You’re close to her now, too close for comfort. You can see her smile lines, her plush lips, her silver chain glinting beneath the black long sleeve she’s wearing. The sleeves are rolled up, and you can’t help but noticed how veiny her arms are, how her long fingers are holding the basketball against her body.

Biting her lip, Paige finally responds. “You’re mad because I lied.”

“Smart girl.” You scoff, almost choking on your breath when her jaw clenches at your comment. “I’m mad cus you lied to my face. And cus you went on live and shit talked me again for no reason.”

You and her stare at each other for a long moment before she breaks a smile. “That was my bad.” She murmurs. “I was uh, Ion’ know. I was in sum kinda mood.”

“The mood to lie?” You raise your eyebrow. “Or the mood to be a bitch?”

“Don’t call me a bitch.” She scowls, and you’re reminded of the last time you called her that, at the end of your game against UConn.

“That’s what you are, Bueckers.” You say with a smile, eyeing her down and getting in her face just a little more. “Bitches lie, bitches make problems out of nothing.”

Her eye is fiercely trained on you, on the way your lips move as you degrade her. You can’t tell what she’s thinking in the slightest.

“(Name), I’m sorry.” She says softly.

Once again you two are staring in silence. The proximity is intoxicating, you can practically smell her clean clothes.

“Are you still fucking Elaine?”

“Hell no.” Paige shakes her head furiously. “That ended a while ago. We haven’t talked in like months.”

“She still has your location.” You grumble. “That’s how she knew I was with you at the restaurant.”

“Shit.” Paige groans, immediately pulling out her phone. “She interrupted us on purpose then? Psycho.”

You watch as she turns off her location for Elaine and blocks her before slipping her phone back in her pocket.

“We didn’t hookup for long.” Paige says, obviously feeling the need to explain herself. “Jus a couple times. I broke things off, she couldn’t accept how busy my schedule was.”

You shrug, not knowing what to say.

“Guess she couldn’t accept you and me either, huh?” Paige smirks, shooting you a ‘forgive me’ type look.

Ignoring the swell in your heart at the stupid comment, you just chuckle and shake your head.

“Do you wanna 1v1?” She asks almost sheepishly.

You think for a moment.

“You sure I’m on your level?”

Paige looks embarrassed for a moment, remembering what she said on her live. “Quit playin.” She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, show me what you got.”

-

You’d be lying if you were to say you knew the score.

Was she taking score? You and Paige were equally insanely competitive, but this wasn’t a true test of skill. This was a test of endurance. A test to see who would break first.

You knew this when her hand grazed your waist as she darted past you to the other end of the court, or when she stared you down, tongue between her lips as she blocked your shot. You retaliated yourself, letting your hand linger a bit too long as you helped her up from the ground after tripping her up, or whistling at her as she makes another three.

The heavy breathing, the piercing stares, the cold air as the sun disappeared. You were in a zone you’d never been in before, somehow equally focused on the game and the girl.

You manage to steal the ball from Paige in a swift moment, but suddenly she’s in front of you again. Her hands dart for the ball, attempting to smack it out of your hand. She almost manages to steal it back, but your grip tightens just at the right moment.

She’s stuck to you, her hands attempting to pry the ball out of your own. You can hear her breath, you can see the beaded sweat on her forehead, you can feel her blue eyes watching you, watching your chest widen and shrink with every inhale and exhale, watching your lips.

It’s a replay of the college game that started all of this.

You struggle for a moment longer before the tousle is not longer controlled, the ball slips between both of your sweaty hands. You and Paige both scramble to save it, but it bounces out of your grasps and away from the court.

Neither of you chase after it.

She’s still up close to you, face flushed from the game.

“What was the score?” She huffs, out of breath. Paige’s voice is raspy and tired. You feel something spark inside of you.

“No clue.”

Paige’s face breaks into a small smirk as her hands find your waist, uncertain and soft, just barely ghosting your frame. “That was my ball.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, your heart hammering at the feeling of her eyes exploring every part of you, lingering on your lips before she finally leans in.

Paige’s lips are rough against yours, but fit perfectly as if moulded for your own. She melts into you, her hands finally tightening around your body, her face tilting just right so she can finally taste you. It’s something you didn’t know you’d been waiting for. She kisses with a million emotions, with urgency, passion and the slightest bit of control. It’s electrical.

When you need to break the kiss to breath, you simply tug on her ponytail. You were not expecting the slight whimper as your lips part.

“M’ not done.” She mutters against you, catching her breath.

“I want you, P.” You whisper, looking up at her. Paige’s face immediately changes at this, lips tilting upward in an annoyingly charismatic way.

“I know you do, baby.” She murmurs. “Let me take you home.”

[pinkcaraz]

obsessed - c. alcaraz

c. alcaraz x f!reader

summary: you really don't want carlos to get a haircut.

wc: 1.3k

tags/warnings: suggestive, fluff, implied oral sex, making out.

a/n: posting this to cope with the fact that we're probs gonna lose fluffy hair pinkcaraz 😔. as you can probably tell, i don't speak spanish, so please feel free to correct me. as always, likes, reblogs, feedback, etc. are always appreciated! if you want to be tagged in any future writing, please lmk. i might make an official taglist form later if enough people want to be tagged. thanks and hope you enjoy!

it’s one of his days off. thankfully, you and carlos have been enjoying a relaxing vacation at home after several long weeks of traveling and tournaments. for the past few days, the two of you have been making the most of his time off by sleeping in and lounging around at home for most of the day. today, however, the absence of your personal heater next to you rouses you from your comfortable sleep early. you blindly pat his side of the bed just to be sure, and when you don’t find him, you lazily crack your eyes open to look for him. sitting up in bed, you find him half dressed, just starting to get ready for the day. 

“lo siento, did i wake you?” he asks apologetically while fondly watching you rub your eyes from sleep. you look so cute with your sleepy expression and wild bed hair, it makes his heart flutter. he stops what he’s doing to sit next to you on the bed and places a soft good morning kiss on your forehead. 

you yawn and shake your head smiling. “it’s okay. what are you doing? where are you going?” you ask, trying to smooth down your unruly hair. carlos laughs softly and brushes back a few strands that fall into your face.

“i thought i would go run some errands, maybe go get a haircu-”

“no!”

“‘no?’ what do you mean ‘no?’”

shit, did you just say that out loud? you’re still a little hazy from sleep, and clearly, your brain-to-mouth filter isn’t working at full capacity yet. 

when you don’t answer him right away, carlos presses on. “do you not want me to get a haircut? do my haircuts not look good?” he asks with his pretty brown puppy-dog eyes and signature pout.

you’ve really dug yourself into a hole here. “no, charlie, you always look good,” you respond quickly. and it’s true, he does always look good to you, even when he comes home with his goofy ass fade and you’re forced to mourn his soft, fluffy hair. at just the mere mention of a haircut, you’re already lamenting the loss of his current look. he’s been overseas for a few weeks now, so it’s been a while since he last went to see his barber. his hair has grown out a bit on the sides and especially in the front, where it curls and falls just above his eyes. he looks so good like this, it drives you insane sometimes. 

you distinctly remember an incident just last week where you couldn’t take it anymore and basically jumped his bones as soon as he wrapped up his post-match press conference. he had played so well that day. watching him absolutely glowing, dashing back and forth on court, had you so incredibly worked up. his hair was also slightly ruffled from a vigorous match and him occasionally brushing it out of his eyes. despite that, it still looked perfectly soft. you didn’t care that he was still sweaty from the match, you had to have him close so you could run your hands through his hair and ruffle it up even more. 

with unwavering determination, the second carlos stepped out of the press room, you were leading him down an empty hallway of the stadium. once the two of you were away from prying eyes, you had pulled him in by the collar for a searing kiss. as much as he was surprised, he knew better than to interrupt you when you were like this, so he played along, backing you up and caging you against the wall. your resulting gasp allowed him to lick past your lips, into your mouth, teasing you. with one hand still clinging to the collar of his shirt, your other hand reached up to tangle itself in carlos’ hair, bringing him impossibly closer to you. completely engrossed in you, he continued licking and nipping at your bottom lip until you were panting hard. when you gently pulled him back by his hair so you could catch your breath, he let out a soft moan, sending a shiver down your spine. your eyes met, both dark with want, and he dove back in, assertively pressing his soft lips to yours before moving to bury his face in your neck. when he tentatively nibbled at your pulse point, you gasped, tightening your grip on his hair ever so slightly. this had him increasing the intensity of his attention to your neck with a satisfied smirk on his face. you were running your fingers through his hair in appreciation when you heard voices down at the end of the hall, forcing you to drag him off of you. 

you were dreamily reminiscing about how you had quickly pulled him somewhere else more private to finish what you started when carlos’ voice interrupted your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. “then, por qué no?” he asks, referring back to you not wanting him to get a haircut.

“um…well…it’s just- uh-,” you stutter in response. you clearly have an answer – you’re a little obsessed with his hair grown out – but you don’t want to tell him that outright. feeling embarrassed from being in this position and also still slightly flustered from the memory, your cheeks burn. you get that look on your face that says you’re thinking unsavory thoughts about him, and ever-observant carlos starts to pick up on how you’re feeling at the moment.

with a mischievous grin and a teasing tone, he keeps pushing you to answer. “dime, amor. you can tell me anything.” at this point, he’s leaning in so close to you, practically crawling up your body, so you’re forced to lay back on the bed while he hovers over you.

“i just, uh, really like your hair like this is all.”

“oh, de verdad? is that really all you were thinking about? you weren’t thinking about yesterday?” he questions deviously while holding himself up on top of you, slotted in between your legs. 

yesterday. yesterday, as in, when the both of you were in the same position in bed. except, then, he was lower down, attentively nipping and sucking a path from your inner thighs upwards. your hands were tangled in his hair, pulling groans from him and directing him closer to the burning ache between your legs. that yesterday. 

uh oh, he’s caught you. he’s probably known this whole time that you’re obsessed – not that you were really trying to hide it or anything – and when you finally realize, you whine and cover your face from embarrassment. 

“well, no i wasn’t thinking about yesterday, but i am now,” you grumble out. thinking back, you subconsciously try to squeeze your thighs together at the memory, but because carlos is still positioned with an evil little smile between your legs, you can’t. you can hear him trying to hold back his laughter, so from behind your arms, you mumble, with no venom behind it, “you’re the worst.”

“ok, well if i’m the worst, then i guess i should get up so i can go get a haircut then,” he teases while moving to get up off of you. 

before he can get anywhere, you pull him back so that he’s plopped on top of you and wrap yourself around him like a koala. “nooooo, don’t go,” you whine into the crook of his neck and snuggle even closer to him. “please.” 

the way you hold him close has him melting. he can’t deny you when you’re this adorable. “ok, fine,” he mumbles endearingly into your hair as he presses a sweet kiss to the top of your head. carlos then wraps his own arms around you in a bear hug and rolls over so that you’re the one laying on top of him. pulling the blankets back up, he settles the both of you back into bed so the two of you can cuddle the rest of the day away. 

taglist: @yungbludz

[egoistars]

FIRST WISH atsumu

you're really good at improvising birthday gifts when you forget to buy something for your best friend but thankfully, he already knows what he wants from you!

friends to lovers, fluff, they're both losers omfg, slight osamu slander

atsumu's ugly grin makes your stomach churn as you try to imagine what insane, fucked up idea he has in his head. you immediately regret not buying him a birthday present, not because you feel guilty of showing up to his house empty handed, but because atsumu has free will over whatever you're going to do next.

"so you're saying, as my birthday present, you're like my own personal genie for today?" he pumps his fists in the air, silently cheering as if he scored a service ace on the volleyball court. his eyes mischievously glimmer under his bedroom lights.

"just don't make me do anything illegal," you say, picking at his blanket while trying to act as unbothered as possible. you realize how majorly you fucked up the moment you remembered this was atsumu miya you were giving your day to, a walking menace and unfortunately the guy you've been pining for. in a masochistic way, you're slightly excited because maybe, by a slim chance that you can only dream of, he'll ask you to do something corny and vomit-inducingly sweet like—

"go on a date with me."

"you're so embarrassing what the fuck? if you're going to ask me out you could've done it like weeks ago or whenever you wanted without me having to grant you favors or whatever the hell, you're actually so miserably cringe."

atsumu could only cackle at your storm of words. as you called him stupid and embarrassing, he watched in endearment as you were the one really making a fool of themselves. he likes it though; he likes everything about you and that's why your love would be his birthday present.

"so, yes or yes?"

bashfully looking away, you didn't bother fighting a dumb grin on your face, not noticing that atsumu hid the same one. tentatively nodding your head, you reply "i'll go out with you. i kinda figured you liked me but it's nicer hearing you say it."

"hell yeah! i'll tell osamu to cancel our lame twin birthday bullshit whatever plans so we can go out! no one cares about him!" atsumu jumped out of his bed, getting ready to open the door and find osamu before freezing. "hold on, if you knew that i liked you why did you wait for me to make the first move? you're an even bigger loser than i am! thats so fucked up..."

[mostlysignssomeportents]

2600’s amazing Hackers on Planet Earth con may go down under enshittification

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

It's been 40 years since Emmanuel Goldstein launched the seminal, essential, world-changing 2600: The Hacker Quarterly. 2600 wasn't the first phreak/hacker zine, but it was the most important, spawning a global subculture dedicated to the noble pursuit of technological self-determination:

https://www.2600.com/

2600 has published hundreds of issues in which digital spelunkers report eagerly on the things they've discovered by peering intently at the things no one was supposed to even glance at (I'm proud to be one of those writers!). They've fought legal battles, including one that almost went to the Supreme Court:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DeCSS

They created a global network of meetups where some of technology's most durable friendships and important collaborations were born. These continue to this day:

https://www.2600.com/meetings

And they've hosted a weekly radio show on NYC's WBAI, Off the Hook:

https://wbai.org/program.php?program=76

When WBAI management lost their minds and locked the station's most beloved hosts out of the studio, Off the Hook (naturally) led the rebellion, taking back the station for its audience, rescuing it from a managerial coup:

https://twitter.com/2600/status/1181423565389942786

But best of all, 2600 gave us HOPE – both in the metaphorical sense of "hope for a better technological tomorrow" and in the literal sense, with its biannual Hackers On Planet Earth con:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hackers_on_Planet_Earth

For decades HOPE had an incredible venue, the Hotel Pennsylvania (memorialized in the phreak anthem "PEnnsylvania 6-5000"), a crumbling pile in midtown Manhattan that was biannually transformed into a rollicking, multi-day festival of forbidden technology, improbable feats, and incredible presentations. I was privileged to keynote HOPE in 2016:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1D7APjmVbk

But after the 2018 HOPE, the Hotel Pennsylvania was demolished to make way for the Penn15 (no, really) skyscraper, a vaporware mega-tower planned as a holding pen for luxury shopping and empty million-dollar condos sold to offshore war-criminals as safe-deposit boxes in the sky. The developer, Vornado (no, really) hasn't actually done all that – after demo'ing the Hotel Pennsylvania, they noped out, leave a large, unusable scar across midtown.

But HOPE wasn't lost. In 2022, the ever-resilient 2600 crew relocated to Queens, hosted by St John's University – a venue that was less glamorous that the Hotel Pennsylvania, but the event was still fantastic. Attendance fell from 2,000 to 1,000, but that was something they could work with, and reviews from attendees were stellar.

Good thing, too. 2600 is, first and foremost, a magazine publisher, and these have been hard years for magazines. First there was the mass die-off of indie bookstores and newsracks (I used to sell 2600 when I was a bookseller, and in the years after, I always took the presence of 2600 on a store's newsrack as an unimpeachable mark of quality).

Thankfully for 2600, their audience is (unsurprisingly) a tech-savvy one, so they were able to substitute digital subscriptions for physical ones:

https://www.2600.com/Magazine/DigitalEditions

Of course, many of those subscriptions came through Amazon's Kindle, because nerds were early Amazon adopters, and because the Kindle magazine publishing platform offered DRM-free distribution to subscribers along with a fair payout to publishers.

But then Amazon enshittified its magazine system. Having locked publishers to its platform, it rugged them and killed the monthly subscription fees that allowed publishers to plan for a steady output. Publishers were given a choice: leave Amazon (and all the readers locked inside its walled garden) or put your magazine into the Kindle Unlimited system:

https://www.amazon.com/kindle-dbs/arp/B0BWPTCP4K?deviceType=A1FG5NAKX0MRJL

Kindle Unlimited is an all-you-can-eat program for Kindle, which pays publishers and writers based on a system that is both opaque and easily gamed, with the lion's share of the money going to "publishers" who focus on figuring out how to cheat the algorithm. Revenues for 2600 – and all the other magazines that Amazon had sucked in and sucked dry – fell off a cliff.

Which brings me to the present moment. After 40 years, 2600 is still at it, having survived the bookstorepocalypse, the lunacy of public radio management, the literal demolition of their physical home by an evil real-estate developer, and Amazon's crooked accounting.

This is 2600, circa 2024, and 2024 a HOPE year:

https://www.hope.net/

Once again, HOPE has been scheduled for its new digs in Queens, July 12-14. Last week, HOPE sent out an email blast to their subscribers telling them the news. They expected to sell 500 tickets in the first 24 hours. They didn't even come close:

https://www.2600.com/content/hope-ticket-sales-update

It turns out that Google and the other major mail providers don't like emails with the word "hacker" in them. The cartel that decides which email gets delivered, and which messages go to spam, or get blocked altogether, mass-blocked the HOPE 2024 announcement. Email may be the last federated, open platform we have, but mass concentration has created a system where it's nearly impossible to get your email delivered unless you're willing to play by Gmail's rules:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/

For Emmanuel Goldstein, founder of 2600 and tireless toiler for this community, the deafening silence following from that initial email volley was terrifying: "like some kind of a "Twilight Zone" episode where everyone has disappeared."

The enshittification that keeps 2600's emails from being delivered to the people who asked to receive them is even worse on social media. Social media companies routinely defraud their users by letting them subscribe to feeds, then turning around to the people and organizations that run those feeds and saying, "You've got x thousand subscribers on this platform, but we won't put your posts in their feeds unless you pay us to 'boost' your content":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/platforms-decay-lets-put-users-first

Enshittification has been coming at 2600 for decades. Like other forms of oddball media dedicated to challenging corporate power and government oppression, 2600 has always been a ten-years-ahead preview of the way the noose was gonna tighten on all of us. And now, they're on the ropes. HOPE can't sell tickets unless people know about HOPE, and neither email providers nor social media platforms have any interest in making that happen.

A handful of giant corporations now get to decide what we read, who we hear from, and whether and how we can get together in person to make friends, forge community, rabble-rouse and change the world. The idea that "it's not censorship unless the government does it" has always been wrong (not all censorship violates the First Amendment, and censorship can be real without being unconstitutional):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/04/yes-its-censorship/

What can you do about it? Well, for one thing, you can sign up for HOPE. It's gonna be great. They've got sub-$100 hotel rooms! In New York City!

https://store.2600.com/products/tickets-to-hope-xv

If you can't make it to HOPE, you can sign up for a virtual membership:

https://store.2600.com/products/tickets-to-hope-xv-virtual-attendee

You can submit a talk to HOPE:

https://www.hope.net/cfp.html

You can subscribe to 2600, in print or electronically (I signed up for the lifetime print subscription and it was a bargain – I devour every issue the day it arrives):

https://store.2600.com/collections/subscriptions-renewals

2600 is living a decade in the future of every other community you care about, weird hobby you enjoy, con you live for, and publication you read from cover to cover. If we can all pull together to save it, it'll be a beacon of hope (and HOPE).

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/19/hope-less/#hack-the-planet

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Fake love.

Eris x f!Reader.

Summary; Reader realizes that she is her mate's second choice.

Warnings; angst, swearing.

Inspiration; see this post.

Masterlist.

My heart broke.

The autumn breeze caressed the soft skin of your cheeks, leaving a shade of pink on its whisper. You stared at the forest beneath your balcony, the only sound that surrounded you was the song of the wind and the squeaks of the rocking chair you were currently sitting on. You hummed in the rhythm the trees moved and leaned back.

“What are you doing little fox?” Your mates deep voice danced with your humming.

“Just admiring the view” you smiled as you peeked at him.

He was wearing a maroon tunic, decorated with rubies and sapphires making his pale face shine and highlighting his mischievous amber eyes.

“I thought I was your favorite view.” He feigned a hurt expression and placed his hand over his heart.

“You are my favorite everything my love” you murmured and his eyes softened.

He picked you up and sat on the chair, placing you on his lap.

“I will leave tomorrow.” He informed you and you hummed, hiding your flushed face in his neck.

“Focus little fox.” He chuckled and pushed you with his shoulder. You raised your head with a whine and stared into his beautiful eyes. The lighting made them look like the most precious gold someone could ever find.

“I will go to the Night Court, I have some things to discuss with Rhysand...” he explained. You nodded and waited for him to continue.

“No matter what you hear please wait for me to come back and I will explain everything.”

“What do you mean by that?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Nothing… don’t worry about it.” He smiled reassuringly and pressed a soft kiss on your temple.

That night Eris made love to you multiple times and the morning he left with a kiss on your forehead, leaving his warmth as a sweet promise of returning to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

“Y/n is one of the sweetest females in my family my lady. I completely trust her.” Your aunt Nissa had said to Lady Autumn when she suggested you to fill the empty space as one of her servants.

“She seems kind.” The lady had said as she scanned your form “Okay she can start whenever she is ready.”

That’s how you earned a place in the forest house. You made sure that Lady Autumn had everything she needed and soon enough she became quite fond of you. She would call you in her room to read together and a few months later she started taking you with her everywhere.

One day as you were strolling around the garden her eldest son -Eris approached you with a kind smile.

“Are you enjoying the sun mother?” he asked.

“Yes it’s refreshing.” She replied and glanced at you. “This is Y/n one of my favorite… oh well I don’t want to call her a servant so I guess one of my favorite friends”

“That’s kind of you my Lady” you bowed your head and then your eyes fell on the stunning male. “Lord Eris it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Eris devoured you with his eyes, a hint of amusement shining in them.

“Likewise,” he replied with a smirk and then bowed his head to his mother and left.

You kept dreaming about him even when your eyes were open, making Lady Autumn raise her eyebrows every time she asked you something and you didn’t hear her.

Eris started visiting his mother quite frequently, making it harder for you to stop thinking about him. A few days later the lady asked you to join her and her son for a stroll in the forest. After walking for a few minutes, she disappeared with a lame excuse about forgetting to ask the chefs to make something and a wink.

Eris and you continued strolling around and talking about many topics, noticing how much you had in common. That was the beginning of your relationship, you spent the next months sneaking around the forest house, thankfully Lady Autumn covered for you in fear that Beron would find out and torture you. When the bond snapped in place Eris decided to announce it and Beron had no choice but accepting a servant as his son’s partner.

“Even though I feel disappointed, the Cauldron chose you as my son’s mate and I don’t want to be disrespectful.” He had said and waved a dismissive hand.

You were immediately dismissed from your duties as the lady’s servant and moved in your own chambers next to your mate’s with your own servants. Even though Beron was a cruel monster you never gave him a reason to turn his spite on you. Your kind nature made you look like the perfect obedient female, yet when you were alone with Eris you showed a more confident and strong character. That was what he loved about you, his heart skipped a beat every time you would argue or tease him, knowing that he made you feel safe and comfortable enough to show him your true self.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

You whined as you rolled on his empty side, pressing your face on his pillow and inhaling his spicy scent.

“Good morning sweetie, Lady Autumn is waiting for you to choose the design for the wedding announcement they will place on the gates of the house.” Your aunt said excitedly as she pulled the curtains letting the light to roam freely in your room.

“Five more minutes” you groaned and hugged your mate’s pillow.

“Come on your lover boy will be here tomorrow” she snorted.

You got up with a grunt and your servants hurried in your room, preparing your bath and choosing your outfit.

You stared at the red gown they put on you in awe.

“What about this necklace?” Nissa asked and held it in front of you. It was a gold necklace decorated with rubies that Eris gifted you for your birthday. You smiled at the memory.

“Close your eyes.�� Eris smiled.

You were cuddling in front of the fireplace still naked from the previous actions.

“Okay” you giggled and covered your eyes with your palms.

“Don’t peek” he scolded, and you blushed.

You felt something cold touching the delicate skin on your neck and shuddered.

“Shh its okay” he purred and instantly his warmth soothed your skin.

He picked you in his arms and carried you somewhere. “Where are you taking me?” you asked.

He didn’t reply, he just placed you on your feet and moved his hands on your hips.

“Open your eyes beautiful” he whispered in your ear, and you suppressed a moan.

You removed your hands from your face and glanced at the mirror. The mesmerizing necklace decorated your neck.

“Its so beautiful” your eyes watered “thank you so much my love.”

“Its one of a kind, just like you.” He said softly and caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Y/n!” Nissa’s voice snapped you out of the memory. Your eyes focused on her and she sighed. “Let’s go Lady Autumn is waiting for you.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

“I think the one with the painting of the Autumn leaves is the best” you said, and the lady hummed.

“Yes I think it’s the most elegant one” she nodded.

The door of the small office opened and one of Beron’s advisors walked in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but the High Lord asked me to inform you that there will be no announcement yet.” He said politely and bowed his head.

“Why?” you asked.

“Uhm… I-I don’t know how to tell you this my lady” he stuttered.

“What happened? Is Eris okay?” the Lady gasped.

“Yes he is fine, uhm… the heir as you know is in the Night Court.” He said and you nodded. “He made a proposition… to marry the High lady’s eldest sister Nesta”.

Your heart broke into a million pieces, you felt like your feet stopped working and your knees trembled. “W-what?” you choked.

“There’s no way” the lady exclaimed and covered her mouth with her palm.

“I’m so sorry but the wedding is on hold until we have an answer from the night court.” He bowed again and left the room hurriedly.

“My child” the lady tried to pull you in her arms, but you took a few steps back.

Tears streamed down your face, landing on your chest just where the necklace ended. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the necklace was choking you and it probably was. It was choking you with all the promises of love and forevers.

“The wedding is on hold” you whispered and grabbed the piece of jewellery ripping it from your neck and watching the rubies hitting the ground and breaking.

You snorted as you watched the fragments spread on the floor.

Rubies don’t break like that. Fake like his love.

“Forever” you growled.

“My dear child…” she tried to speak. “The wedding is on hold forever. Let everyone know.” You yelled and sprinted to your chambers. You started packing as many clothes as you could.

“No matter what you hear please wait for me to come back and I will explain everything.”

He had made the decision, that’s why he said it. He knew and he still held me in his arms, he still kissed me. He still made love to me. You felt nauseous.

“Y/n wait.” Nissa walked into your room.

“No! I’m done” you screamed and kept packing. “I’m no one’s second choice”.

“Eris is coming back tomorrow, you should let him explain before you make a decision.”

“There’s nothing to explain.” you grabbed the bag and marched out. “Y/n please” Nissa ran after you.

You walked faster and almost smacked into Beron’s chest. He stared down at you with a quirked brow.

“Where are you going?” he asked curiously.

“The wedding is cancelled, I don’t have a reason to stay here.” You replied politely.

“The wedding is on hold” he said.

“No I called it off” your voice remained steady.

“Good” he smirked wickedly and stepped to the side.

“Goodbye High Lord” you bowed your head and left quickly.

You had no respect for Beron, but you couldn’t show it in case he decided to punish you.

Nissa kept running after you.

“Where are you going? You don’t have a place to stay” she cried out.

“I will think of something.” You mumbled.

“You’re not leaving.” Lady Autumn emerged from one of the rooms. “I’ve informed Eris and he is returning as we speak.”

“My lady please... if you ever cared about me… let me go” you pleaded not wanting to face him.

“I’m sorry my child…” she said and stood in front of you blocking your way.

You dropped on your knees and cried. You felt completely helpless as the females blocked both your ways, trapping you in what you thought would be your perfect home. You had dreamed about your children running down these halls, their laughter echoing through the whole house.

“Please let me go” you kept sobbing again and again hoping that one of them would pity you.

“Y/n!” your mate’s voice boomed through the hall. “No” you cried out.

You felt strong arms grabbing your shoulders and his spicy scent that once made your heart flutter, made you gag now.

“Don’t touch me” you whispered, and he obliged. He sat on the ground in front of you and his eyes scanned your face.

“Please little fox let me explain” his voice was soft as he spoke.

“There is nothing to explain Eris. I am your second choice. I’m just a servant, right?” you scoffed.

“You know that I don’t really care about these things. I only did it so I can have the night court’s support to become high lord. If they accepted, I wouldn’t touch her, I would stay with you secretly and when my father would die, I would end the wedding.” He said like it is the most normal thing in the world.

“You only care about the throne” you whispered with wide eyes. “Yesterday you told me not to believe anything I hear; you had made your decision and you hoped that no one would tell me. Were you planning to tell me if they refused?”

He remained silent.

“Cauldron I’m such an idiot.” You sniffled and got up. “We’re done Eris Vanserra. I don’t want to see you again.”

“No no no please” he followed you as you stormed out.

“Good fucking bye” you growled and winnowed away.

[moodymisty]

Would you be comfortable writing some courting headcanons for the primarchs?? Thank you!!

Author's note: Here you go, they're sort of random but I hope you enjoy them.

Warnings: Fem!Reader for some like Lion’el because of words like Legion Mother, A few very slightly lewd remarks

Fulgrim:

The primarch who out of all has most devoted himself to things like the arts is nothing short of overwhelming, when he first expressed his desire for you. Flowers, paintings, clothing, food, whatever it is you enjoy, all of it gets gifted to you with no small amount of theatrics. Though thankfully, Fulgrim knows when to turn it down a bit, and you can enjoy his company. Even then however he is still very intense, kisses on the hand, the lips, and gentle caresses abound as he woos you with his silver tongue. His legion is also one of the few who at the start know about Fulgrim's intentions, and actually takes it decently well. Far better than other legions, when finding out their Primarch is indulging in romance. You are the socialite, the shining star in a room and the talk of everyone there, and Fulgrim will have it no other way. But as much as he does all this, he finds it cute if you’re shy or nervous about it. Shyness isn’t in his dna, so he finds it very adorable. You often get purfumed, hand written letters when he is away. Fulgrim has quite the way with words, and many of them you’re glad the one who reads them are him and you.

Perturabo:

He might be a petulant manchild at times, but when the mood strikes him Perturabo can be a bit softer. It helps that you're one of the few people he trusts, now that the two of you are so close. Though it may often be more trouble than it's worth, with how often his mood changes. Perturabo can go from lavishing you with Olympian clothes to sulking in his workshop for hours if not days, leaving you to eventually wander down there and find him, and bring him out of his petulant sulk. A gentle hand on his own, asking if he can explain to you what he’s working on tends to help. Perturabo also becomes very possessive of you, not long after he starts courting you. If Dorn, Sanguinius or Lorgar so much as look at you the wrong way, he's more than ready for a fight. He has one person in his life who hasn’t wronged him, who actually respects him, and he isn’t losing that. Those softer moments with him as he speaks of his plans for amphitheaters and bathhouses while you lay in his arms are worth it, however.

Lion’el Jonson:

Lion'el is, complicated. Part of him wonders how he even got here, something as frivolous as romance was never a significant part of his mind. But here he is. He can’t complain, as he’s become so used to you now that often times, his nose wrinkles anytime he’s away and casts sight on an empty bed. He doesn’t say anything about it, however. Part of him laments he isn't able to give you rides on horseback, as he's far outgrown the horses he rode in his younger years. Though he can walk beside you, even if his men think it's demeaning of his position. Is painfully blunt about some things, and extremely obtuse about others. He wishes to marry you? Blunt. You get a military parade dedicated to showing the galaxy the Dark Angels new Legion Mother with no warning. He wishes for you to wear the colors of his legion and match him so when you arrive on Terra everyone knows who you are with? Vague and obtuse, he will grunt about every option until you choose the one he likes.

Rogal Dorn:

As with all parts of his life, he's extremely stoic and at first, you don't think anything's changed. He's the type that listens to the things you talk about, and silently gives them to you. For instance as a newcomer to Inwit it's incredibly cold, but your current dress just doesn't cut it for the harsh wind and un-acclimated body. You find a new one on your bed three days later made perfect and exactly how you like it, but Dorn says nothing about it. Those few late night moments alone when he brings you into his office, and you sit at his desk while he works are some of his favorite. Dorn gets to feel you safe in his arms, and while he’ll never say it out loud, he is overwhelmed in his love for you. Does not tell any of his fellow primarchs about you. The day they realize Dorn has a beloved is a stressful one, they’re all sneaking around trying to get information about you, and Dorn almost has to lock you in his quarters and shoo them all away. Is surprising talkative in written word. His letters or anything else tend to be very long, talking about the ins and outs of his legion, and their current progress. You’ve never heard him talk half that much in person, it’s sweet. Though once in a while those letters can get a bit salacious; And Dorn is nothing if not detailed.

Leman Russ:

This man's declaration that he wanted to court you was as brash and blunt as he is. You're pretty sure he was half way into sleeping with how drunk he was at the time, a massive hand on your shoulder as he smiles with a red face. Granted when he sobered up he was far more, romantic about it. By his standards. He still stunk of mjød, but at least he held your hand. From that moment on however Russ isn't a man shy of showing off, and wastes no opportunity to plop you in his lap and give you a kiss, pick you up off the ground, or say something far too inappropriate for the current locale. Whether it's day two or day two hundred, he finds keeping himself off of you too much trouble. He’s the type to make others turn away with how overt his affection is. Every one of his kisses and hugs feel like he’s treating it as the last one he’ll ever do. Loves when you comb and braid his hair. It takes awhile and he has no patience for it, but he enjoys when you do it.

Ferrus Manus:

As a recurring theme with all of these, Ferrus finds it a bit hard to show how he feels. While he has moments where he cracks a smile, often times he’s largely stoic. As such, he never really asked you to be with him, it was something that simply progressed overtime. He doesn’t invite you into his quarters and his bed if you aren’t his beloved, he assumes it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out. Late night workshop time is a must. Ferrus can spend days in there with no issue, and oftentimes you have to come and climb into his lap if you want any time with him at all. He doesn’t mind as as long as you’re quiet; Though over time he’s begun to enjoy explaining his plans to you if you aren’t asleep. If you are asleep, sometimes he gets a bit emotional and talks or thinks to himself. He never thought he’d have someone like you when he lived on Medusa, he just needed to survive. Is actually somewhat hesitant when you first are together. Ferrus is well aware of his size (both out and in the bedroom, or any other local where he deems sex a daring and intriguing idea), and often tries to be quite gentle. It took a bit of coaxing to finally treat you like you weren’t made of glass. You get surprise gifts from Fulgrim at times. Some are sweet; Some are… They’re hidden until Ferrus returns from where ever he’s currently away to at the time and you can surprise him.

Horus:

The same as Fulgrim; Excessive and grandiose, but unlike Fulgrim, there's a tad more subtlety to it. But only a tad. Horus still is eager to show off the love of his life (and so much more that he’s kept just in his head shh), but he’s aware that sometimes you require a bit more subtlety. For a primarch, he’s quite the romantic. Though there’s only so much you can do when you have thousands of gene-sons waiting on orders and don’t exactly get why their primarch is holding your tiny hand and helping you walk down the thunderhawk’s ramp. You can do it yourself, they think. He can also be quite a bit grandiose in the theoretical sense. Horus seems to have your entire future together planned, and he’ll speak it to you during very late nights with stars in his eyes. To marry you, to bring you into his legion as the mother of his gene-sons, to give you your own child one day. He’s more than a bit overwhelming, but it helps he’s so charismatic.

Angron:

I... I hope you're patient. Angron isn’t one that is fond of things like romance. For multiple reasons. One being that it brings him pain because of the Nails, and the other being that in many ways, he doesn’t feel like he deserves it. He’s a slave, he’s a monster, he’s a man who failed his people, men like him don’t get to have someone like you. But you stay anyways despite the fear of him loosing control of the Nails, and eventually Angron supposes that there’s more annoying people to have around. He’s far more applicable to this in his early days. The Nails haven’t degraded his mental state yet, and his legion is still fresh faced and eager to prove their worth. If Angron accepts you, they will as well then. The downside is that many of the primarchs worry about Angron’s relationship and subsequent attachment to you, and the danger it brings. Some for your safety, but mostly for the fact that now that Angron is so deeply attached, if something were to happen to you it would well be within the possibility that Angron would completely loose control of the Nails, and become an unstoppable threat that would have to be put down. On the other hand, it seems that you can calm him down a bit, as much as the Nails will allow, something that not many are able to do. A double edged sword, your love is to him. Often times you have to restrain him during anything, strenuous. It’s for your own safety, though it seems like Angron doesn’t hate it either.

Roboute Guilliman:

The most traditional out of them all. He follows the 'rules' so strictly you have wonder if he's following some sort of manuscript. Your relationship progresses at a very methodical pace, which is a bit odd but you find it oddly sweet he puts so much thought into it. He does little more than hold your hand, kisses and anything heavier are strictly private; If it wasn't for the longing, puppy dog look in his eyes, no one would guess you two were anything more. He's not overt about it like Horus or Fulgrim, but you are still absolutely smothered in gifts. From jewelry to clothing to weird purfumes he's been gifted by high lords attempting to earn his favor through you (Guilliman has made it very obvious that he's not the type to be swayed by gifts but they hope you are and will put in a good word with your beloved), you quickly find yourself constantly or the receiving end of some sort of lavish gift. Roboute is very much in love, it's just hard for him to admit it. As you come to understand his own little love language is the day he's a very happy man. On a bonus note: It is very easy to get this man to completely melt for you. If it’s been a stressful time for him and he’s stressed, giving him a bit of a hand will make him a bit bashful, but overwhelmingly thankful.

Sanguinus:

As kind as he is beautiful, Sanguinius is one of the more heartfelt ones around. Romance abound, the angel and you are the textbook example of star crossed lovers the moment he proposes courtship to you. It almost makes some of the primarchs jealous at how incredibly perfect your love for each other is, like your feet don’t touch the ground He loves to pick you up and give you a hug or a kiss, wrapping you in his wings. He always says it's just so you feel safer, but he also likes the bit of privacy, hiding you from the worlds in his arms. You also enjoy playing with his wings when you’re in private, as they’re quite sensitive. A side note; He thinks it's cute that you use his fallen feathers as bookmarks and quills, and he now gifts you a few of his fallen primary feathers every now and again for you to use. You’ll know about the Red Thirst eventually when you’re with him. Sanguinius won’t ever ask for assistance, but if you were to offer a bit of blood? He’s incredibly careful, but the blood of his lover is nothing short of ambrosia and he will dutifully treat you afterward for sating his appetite.

Jaghatai Khan:

As one of the more reasonable primarchs, Jaghatai is a steal to have as your lover. He’s personable and kind, and funny to boot. He enjoys making you laugh, something his sons have picked up on. Sometimes they’ll tease you (or more likely unsuspecting commissars) when you’re in their company. If he's not able to hold your hand, he'll have a hand on your shoulder or back, always close to you whenever you're both together. He’s extremely dedicated to Chogoris, and it’s incredibly important to him that you adopt some of the culture he grew up in. You don’t have to, but it would make Jagahatai an extremely proud man if you attempted to understand Chogoran. He’s also private; His fellow primarchs don’t even know of your existence let alone close relation to him until you’re well into your romance, and Jaghatai has thoughts for no one else but you.

Konrad Curze:

Konrad’s romance is as toxic as he is. But at the same time, it’s like a drug you can’t get enough of. Because you’re fucking terrified of him, but the man is obsessed with you. Not many of the other primarchs understand the soul crushing, teeth grinding obsession Konrad has for you. He’s willing to fall to his knees and submit to you as long as you tell him you love him, and that he's worth more alive. But if you tell him you don’t?… You don’t want to tell him you don’t. Konrad is painful. He holds your hand too tight, kisses you too rough, bites you too hard. He doesn’t mean it, you don’t think at least some of the time, but he’s so caught in this obsession with someone trying to save him that his martyr complex melts away for a bit and he’s this self-loathing, sad excuse of a man. You almost pity him as much as you love him. Making him happy has become an arduous journey for you. Is the exact opposite of the others in wanting to show you off. You’re hidden for ages, until the primarchs realize Konrad has someone at his side. They worry, but they know separating him from you would cause more harm than good, and you keep Konrad’s emotions a bit more in check. And in the eyes of a few individuals, your safety serves as a good threat to keep Konrad and his unhinged legion on a leash and working towards a desired goal. A note; Konrad is surprisingly selfless in regard to more intimate matters. And he likes to bite. Your thighs don’t get much reprieve from him.

Vulkan:

Sweet as sugar, no one is as good at a proper declaration of love or desire to romance like Vulkan is. No matter how much it breaks his back he’ll always hold your hand, give you a kiss, or pick you up to bring you with him across the Flamewrought or the Terran palace. Besides perhaps Sanguinius and Lorgar, no one is as star-crossed in love with you as Vulkan is.

He’ll do anything for you, if you just ask. He often paraphrases that he would shield you from any threat, but sometimes you fear he’d do it literally. Less seriously he loves to gift you various things, your favorite being a necklace. You never thought he’d be able to work at such a small level, but Vulkan is nothing if not skilled. He got quite the reward the evening he gifted it to you.

Is one of the quicker ones to get serious. Talks of marrying you, writing you down in the history of his legion as their Legion Mother, Vulkan is quite eager to tie himself to you, and you to him.

Corvus Corax:

Corvus is private, and also quite slow to trust. Even slower to admit he likes someone, let alone enough to express that he’s in love with them. Many moments with him are often spent in his private quarters or somewhere else alone, where only you have eyes on him.

Is one of the few primarchs conscious of the fact that he isn’t really meant to exist, and that he’s forcing it by being with you. Your body often bruises and aches if he isn’t careful with you, and it secretly pains him that the one person he loves is so easy for him to hurt. Finding out about this feeling he has swiftly turns you into a mess of reassurances that quickly overwhelm poor Corvus, and while he still feels it at times, he appreciate you trying to soothe him.

Loves to write you letters. He feels like it means more to put the effort into handwriting, and when you send him one back, it’s like he can feel your touch on the paper. One time you left a lipstick kiss on the parchment and the man was insufferable that evening from how pent up he was, unbeknownst to you millions of miles away. You paid for that transgression dearly one he returned.

Lorgar Aurelian:

Lorgar is yet another primarch who is sweet as sugar. He also has quite the way with words, though unlike Horus and Fulgrim, it isn’t intentional. He’s just very passionate and verbose. Is also very touchy. Loves to pick you up and kiss you, show you off to others. He’s so stupidly in love and everyone around him is almost annoyed by it. He just loves his tiny little goddess so much, you bring him light he didn’t know he needed. Lorgar is also very affected by his religious trauma. His self flagellation both emotional and literal has always been an issue. You’ve had nights where you’ve put ice on his back after he whipped himself bloody, crying over his wounds. If it isn’t bad he encourages you to not weep over him, and if it’s worse he often times is beating himself up over worrying you. Being with him is stressful emotionally, to say the least. In another path, he often time beats himself up over the idea of corrupting you with sinful thoughts. Though that doesn’t really stop him, especially if he comes to his quarters one evening seeing you wearing all white draped across his bed. Lorgar will sin alright, but he does it while speaking prayers to save his own soul as he worships you. He’s one of the quickest Primarchs to want to marry you, to make you his own and to bring you closer and closer to his side.

Mortarion:

Mortarion isn’t an easy one to love. He doesn’t really consider the emotion valuable until one day he suddenly realizes that you mean something to him, more than just another baseline human does. Like Ferrus in that he never does the official courtship nonsense, and just upgrades your relationship in his head overtime. Someone who isn’t his lover doesn’t spend hours in the Pale King’s study watching him work, keeping one of his hands in their lap while he uses the other. Is a bit of a pushover in some ways, and takes his self loathing a bit too far sometimes. You’ve learned that sometimes he needs you to kiss him and tell him you love him more than anything else, to get him to stop sulking. Everyone is extremely surprised he found sometime. Let alone someone so personable. Fulgrim jokes that Mortarion should just send you instead of himself to Terra when the primarchs meet up to discuss things, as you’re easier to deal with. Mortarion hates when things like that are said, and he’ll hide you from the world obsessively for awhile after. He loves you, but sometimes for him love and possess get intertwined in his head when he thinks for you.

Magnus the Red:

Isn’t the worst beloved to have, but he has his quirks. He can be a bit stuffy at times, and often times forgets that relationships needs nurturing to grow. Magnus often times gets stuck in his own head and forgets everyone around him, including you. Loves to show off his warp magic to you, especially if you show literally any interest at all. He’s so used to everyone fearing it, fearing him, hating psykers no matter what, that any interest by you gives him hearts in his eyes. You’ll be up all night listening to him read you tomes. Which you don’t mind, it often helps you fall asleep. Since Magnus can change his size, he knows exactly how to make your squirm. You know you’re in for a wild ride when your beloved becomes bigger than Ferrus and starts taking off his armor.

AlphariusOmegon:

The twins are complicated. Given the primarchs consider you only Alpharius’ beloved, you spend more time with him than Omegon. As such, sometimes Omegon can get a bit possessive whenever you two are together. You don’t entirely blame Omegon for it; His other half is the one holding your hand and showing you off, joking about marrying you to his fellow primarchs. As such, those topics tend to be a minefield in your weird little relationship. They often use you to get information about the other Primarchs. It seems your smaller stature makes them almost seem like you're less of a threat, and get a bit more talkative around you than they are around whatever twin is currently frontfacing. You hate when they ask this of you, but you have no power to refuse them. As the twins are extremely meticulous and through, they've been careful to not show anyone how in love with you they really are. If they how just how much Alpharius loves you, it would be easy for you to be used against them. So affection is limited, and they put up an aura that you're not much more than an arm piece when in view of others. They eagerly make sure to show you this isn't the case in private, however.

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 3

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Sorry these are taking longer than normal, after the 25th I'm a free fuckin' agent and if you check my updated masterlist you will see I have so many things in the works.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, SA

Word Count: 4,189

Another week had come and gone. A week full of tight corsets, uncomfortable shoes, trips to the Autumn Court and of course, snide comments from Eris.

As of late I had begun having nightmares. The kind that left me screaming in bed with no one to hear me. The kind that had me waking up in a pool of my own sweat. It was the same every time, I was the dog in the back of Eris’ kennels. Scared, alone and caged. I would scour the entire cage for a way out, my finger with that giant wedding ring on it scouring the straw covered floors, never once finding an escape. Eris would come in and bend me over like an animal and sometimes I would wake up before he used me and sometimes I would wake up after. 

Regardless I was left unable to sleep. So I had taken to my dear brother's liquor cabinet to procure my own sleeping tonic, whiskey. For a few nights it has worked to put me to sleep, but not tonight. 

I swirled the last little bit of whiskey around the bottom of the bottle before slugging it all down. I had been slowly nursing the bottle the past two nights knowing that tonight might be my only night to procure a new bottle without anyone seeing. Tonight was boys night at Rita’s meaning that Cassian and Azriel were out with my brother and no one was home to fuss over my new drinking habits. 

I toss the empty bottle off the side of my bed and slowly but surely get up, wrapping myself in my silk night robe. My feet wobble beneath me as I make my way to the door, thankfully I know the way to the kitchen like the back of my hand. The only real obstacle being the long dark hallway, but even that’s a straight shot.  

I close the door of my bedroom quietly behind me in case there are any maids wandering about the dark hallway that I can’t see. I walk in as straight a line as I can and it isn’t long until I run smack into a wall. When the hell did that get there? 

“Princess? ” Cassian hiccuped

It takes me a second to realize the wall I ran into was Cassian, and I start to feel a little better, that is until I start to wobble again. 

“Are you drunk?” Cassian hiccups again and I feel his hands on my arms stabilizing me. The smell of cedar, leather and whiskey floating over to me.

“Yeah, but you are too,” I pointed out, pushing a finger into his rock hard chest for emphasis. My eyes adjust to the dark lighting and I can see his face peering down at me. That sculpted, beautiful face that they should really write sonnets about. 

“Have to drown my sorrows somehow,”  Cassian shrugs, letting go of my arms, stumbling back on his feet. 

“Pfft, like you have any sorrows general,”  I scoff, starting to move past him. I trip on his foot and nearly fall over, the only thing keeping me from getting an awful rug burn is Cassian catching me by my upper arm. 

“Shit princess I can barely walk but let me get you a glass of water,” he says, putting me back on my two feet again. 

My heart flutters at his kindness, “You would do that?” I smile drunkenly. 

“I’d do anything for you y/n,” Cassian replies and I can tell by the expression on his face that he regrets the words the moment they come out of his drunken mouth. It dawns on me that I’ve never heard Cassian call me by my name before, and I quite like the sound of it. 

“W-would you really?” I stumble letting my drunk mind do the talking. 

“As long as you’ll let me, I’ll do anything for you princess,” he reiterates and I don’t miss how he switches back to my formal title once more. 

“Cassian,” I breathe, unable to say anything more. 

“Anything, just tell me what you want,” he says quietly. 

My mind swirls with all the things that I want him to do. Get me a glass of water, take me away from here, kiss me. But all those lead to one common bad ending…

“Eris,” I whisper, realizing how close Cassian is to me. 

“Don’t marry him,”  Cassian slurs, wobbling a bit as he places his hands on my hips. The feeling of his hands on me, and knowing that the only thing separating his skin from mine is a thin silk robe. He seems to realize it too as his glassed over eyes look me up and down. It’s enough to sober up my mind and realize what’s going on. 

“You shouldn’t touch me,” I say. “I belong to Eris now.” 

“Not yet you don’t,” he hiccups for the third time. “Please, don’t marry him,” he says, getting even closer to me. 

I push Cassian off me and he stumbles back, “You’re drunk Cassian and I am too. We should both go to bed, we have a big day tomorrow.” I say stumbling back as best I can towards my bedroom. 

The general doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest or beg and as I step into my bedroom I don’t miss the curse he mutters to himself before waltzing into his own. 

The next morning I wake with a raging headache that has me in bed until it’s time for me to attend dinner at the Autumn Court. If it wasn’t for my ladies maids I never would’ve left the warm cocoon of my covers. But I did, and in place of soft sheets was a death grip of a corset and I swore it was tighter than the last one. I looked in the mirror and realized that they had been choosing more and more revealing dresses for me, this one I was sure I had never seen before now. 

I made my way into the foyer where I knew Cassian would be waiting dutifully and sure enough the second I walked in his eyes turned to me. I searched for a sign of regret or awkwardness in his eyes given the events of last night, but all I found was Cassian. Handsome, strong, loyal and wonderful Cassian, and a part of me sighed in relief knowing I wouldn’t lose the one life line I had when I was in Eris’ territory. 

“You ready to go?” He asks me as he always does. 

“I think so,” I answer walking over to him so he can scoop me up. 

We take off into the air and the second we are airborne I feel a chill run up my spine. We don’t normally head to the Autumn Court so late in the day, and without the sun to warm my skin the cold seeps in. A cold that has me curling into Cassian more and I swear I feel his arms tighten around me. 

“So dinner with the potential, future in-laws tonight?” he asks. 

“I suppose so,” I sigh. 

“You’ll do great, don't worry,” he smiles trying to lift my mood.

“And what if I don’t want to do great? What if I want things to go so terribly that Eris breaks off the engagement and starts a fight?” I bluster, half joking. 

“Then I’ll hold while you punch Princess,” Cassian laughs and the vibrations roll through my body. 

“Good dog,” I joke and Cassian erupts in a fit of laughter that warms my soul. 

By the time we get there the Autumn Court is lit up with fae lights and the way they illuminate the colors of the autumn trees is breathtaking. Even in the distance I see and feel Eris’ presence like a dark cloud looming over me. Cassian touches down on the front steps and places me on the ground like I’m made of porcelain. 

“Good evening my little flame,” Eris greets me, allowing his hands to fall to my waist pulling me in for a kiss. This past week he has gotten more comfortable with affection, but thankfully he had never repeated what happened under the willow tree. 

“Good evening Eris,” I give a fake smile as he takes my hands in his. It was my last visit that Eris insisted that I dropped the formalities of calling him Prince Eris, something I felt was off character.

“I have a gift for you,” he smiles, pulling a long black box out from behind his back. He opens it revealing a necklace made up of large rubies. No doubt part of the crown jewels of the Autumn Court. 

“Oh Eris! It’s beautiful,” I smile, running my hand over the large gems. I hated to admit it but they were truly breathtaking. Something I would’ve asked my brother to gift me for solstice. “You didn’t have to do that.”  

Eris plucks the necklace from the velvet box and motions me to turn around so he can put it on. “I might’ve had ulterior motives,” he smirks, placing the jewels over my neck and clasping them on. 

“Well thank you, I really do love it,” I say, running my hands over the large jewels one last time. 

It isn’t until I feel the weight of the necklace and hear his words that I realize that ulterior motive. This isn’t just a gift, or a necklace, or even a family heirloom. It's a collar. One meant to show that I belong to him. The weight of it suddenly becomes burdensome and doubles as Eris stands back to admire the necklace now that I’m wearing it. 

 “It looks perfect on that beautiful little neck,” he smirks, offering me his arm that I take politely. “My family is very eager to meet you. Especially my brothers who have only ever heard stories of your beauty.” he says leading me inside.

“Well I hope that I can live up to my reputation then,” I smile as my heels clack along the marble floors. 

“In that dress little flame,” Eris says, looking me up and down, eyes lingering on the cleavage the neckline showed off. “You will be like a walking temptation.” 

We make our way to the large dining room and my eyes scan the table. Mounds and mounds of food and wine are littered all over it, enough for the whole court I presume. Everything from duck to boar, no doubt from Eris’ hunts. My mind flashes to the hounds in the kennel and I actively push the thought away. 

 On one side of the table sits Eris’ six brothers, all of them alike in age. At the head of each end sits Beron Vanserra and his wife. I look for an empty chair, and only find two. 

“It’s wonderful to see you again princess,” Beron booms as Eris pulls my chair out for me. 

“And you as well High Lord,” I smile bowing to him. 

I’m thankful for the chair that now supports me from beneath as I feel my knees start to wobble. I look around at the table once more now that I’m seated, and the plethora of red hair and piercing eyes is enough to make me feel like I’m a lamb shoved in a wolf's den. I feel Cassian taking up space by the door and my heart breaks knowing he must be hungry too. 

“Excuse me High Lord,” I ask, pulling Beron’s attention. “But I wonder if you might procure a seat for my guard so that he might enjoy this divine meal as well.” 

“Bastards are not allowed to sit at this table,” Beron says with a cool, calm, authority that I almost envy. My blood boils at his words, and tears nearly brim my eyes. Cassian was so much more than a ‘bastard’. Gods, one Cassian was worth more than everyone at this table combined. But to say that would mean my head on a platter. 

“Of course my Lord, I don’t know what came over me,” I apologize, bowing my head in submissal. 

“Darling you simply must try the wine,” Eris says pouring me a glass.

I swirl the red liquid around and give it a sniff. The strong scent of dark, ripe berries hits my nose. I take a sip and though I hate to admit it, it tastes like heaven. Or perhaps my body is aware that the effects of this wine are the only things that will help me get through this dinner. 

“It’s amazing,” I beam looking at my glass. “I love bold reds.”

“From our vineyards here in the Autumn Court,” Beron says proudly. “I’ll be sure to send a case to your brother for you both to enjoy.”

“We would love that, thank you.” I smile while taking another sip. 

The table falls into a comfortable conversation and I do my best to keep my head down like Beron's wife, as whatever behavior she portrays will likely be what’s expected of me. So far her etiquette imitates what Eris so crudely said to me just a few days ago…Wives are meant to be seen and not heard, except for in bed of course. Men do love the little whimpers of pain women emit when they are deflowered…   

I suppress a shudder at the remembrance of those words, and even though the comment that floats to my ears is another bit of sexist garbage, I’m sadly grateful for the distraction. 

“By the gods she is perfect,” one of Eris' brothers says quietly to the other. 

I try to hide my blush with another sip of wine, followed by another chunk of potato. Doing everything I can to pretend that I can’t hear the conversation the three brothers in front of me are quietly having. 

“Look at her tits,” another one rasps his eyes not so subtly glazing over me, the other brother in the conversation doing the same. I suddenly feel like I’m a piece of livestock up for auction. 

“How is it that Eris gets to have the Jewel?” the third one asks quietly, but not quiet enough to escape Eris’ ears.   

“Because I am the eldest!” Eris shouts, slamming his fists on the table, and the only person who doesn’t jump from his outburst is Beron. “And you’d do well to hold your tongue in front of the potential mother to the heir of the throne you’ll never inherit.” 

I can see the other side of the table debating whether to fight back or not, but it’s Beron who breaks the silence with the ease only a High Lord could do. “I assume that you and your brother will be attending our ball celebrating our fall solstice later this week princess?” Beron asks me. 

“Yes of course,” I tell him, setting down my glass of wine. 

“Wonderful! We’re quite excited to have you both in attendance. It is our fist ball since our time under the mountain,” he explains. 

“Who else will be attending?” I ask, swirling my wine around in its glass. 

“All the High Lords and the most trusted members of their courts,” Beron answers and it takes everything in me not to laugh. 

My mind flickered back to the months before my family locked me away, months where every High Lord would fall to his feet and beg for my hand in marriage. No doubt Eris would now play the role of fighting them all off and the image of him being an angry and frustrated toddler brought me joy.   

“Then I hope your son isn’t a jealous man,” I smile while sipping my wine. “Helion is a good friend, but he’s been asking my brother for my hand for years. Rhys practically had to beat him off with a stick.” I laugh, the effects of the wine taking over. 

What’s meant to be a lighthearted joke turns sour as I see the flames dance in Eris’ eyes, “Jealousy is a weak emotion, princess, But rest assured, I have no intention of allowing any man to lay claim to what is rightfully mine,” he starts and leans into my ear so only I can hear him. “And if Helion continues to pursue you, I’ll just have to deflower you right in front of his very eyes.” 

I want to come up with a witty response. I want to yell or scream or defend myself for the love of gods, but I can’t. All I can do is swallow the fear within me with another sip of wine and hope this den of wolves doesn't scent my fear. 

The rest of dinner is quiet and uneventful, I let the men converse, keeping note of the many glasses of wine Eris consumes. I turn my attention to the only other female at the table and I try to study her every move. Beron's wife says nothing, and I note that it’s my job to do the same. A pretty little wall ornament indeed. 

“If you’ll excuse us father,” Eris says standing up. “I would like to take the princess on a little stroll.” 

“Very well my son you are excused,” Beron nods to Eris. “I look forward to seeing you later this week my dear.” Beron says to me. 

I nod, trying to keep the illusion of submission up and Eris leads me out of the dining hall and down a dark hall. The chattering voices no doubt talking about me drifting off behind us. As we get further and further away from the dining room, I start to feel my stomach drop. Something is wrong, something is terribly wrong. But like usual, I don’t have the voice to say anything. We come across another dark hall, one so pitch black I would think it’s an endless void if it wasn’t for  the light at the far end.

“Sit and stay bastard,” Eris growls towards Cassian like he’s one of his hounds. “I require a private moment with the Jewel.” 

Cassian grumbles but allows Eris to lead me further into the shadows, the only way he could see us at this point is the faelight at the other end of the hall that would cast our silhouettes onto the floor. I try to throw him a frightened glance, but just like many times before, Eris seems to have found a way to keep me from doing so. 

“The general seems quite attached to you, it’s nice to finally have some time alone,” Eris says as he leads me through the long dark hallway. I swear I’d bump into a rouge chaise or grandfather clock lining the wall if it wasn’t his arm in mine. 

“Cassian has my best interest at heart, he wants to keep me safe,” I reply, trying to keep my voice from sounding confrontational.

“And he believes that I couldn’t keep you safe?” Eris retorts and I nearly scoff. 

“It’s not that, I think he believes you might take certain…shall I say, liberties with me,” I mumble trying to keep my head low. 

Eris' body tenses next to mine and I know I’ve made a grave mistake. “You’re mine, I can take whatever liberties I wish to.” he growls and before I know it my back is against a wall. “If he thinks I’ll marry you without trying you out he’s more of a simple minded bastard than I thought.” 

“Eris please,” I breathe trying to rip my wrists from his grasp but it’s no use. 

“Are you fighting or begging, little flame?” he muses, wine scented breath brushing my neck. “Either way it makes my cock hard.” he smiles, pressing his lips to my neck. 

His body is flush to mine and I can feel one hand pinning my wrists to the wall in a way that will leave bruises while the other explores my body. His lips are hot and wet on my neck and chest wandering dangerously low. 

“This isn’t proper,” I protest and try to wiggle out of his grasp for emphasis but I only succeed in grinding myself into him more. 

“Then I’ll make it fucking proper!” Eris seethes gripping my chin to make my gaze meet his. Those amber eyes are somehow darker and more intimidating in the low light.  “Now be a good girl and let me kiss you,” he smirks before pressing his lips to mine. 

For what it was worth Eris hadn’t made any advances on me since the first time under the willow. But tonight, with the copious amounts of wine flowing through his veins? Well it must’ve been just enough for his resolve to snap.  His lips still taste like venom, everything about him all wrong. It takes everything in me not to get sick all over his perfectly tailored jacket. 

“Eris stop it!” I whine pushing him away further. 

“I must have you my little flame,” he groans and I feel his hands grip my skirt. 

My heart starts to race even more, and if I wasn’t going to be sick before I surely was going to be now.  His mouth resumed its assault on my neck, messy and needy just like earlier. Large hands bunch up the layers of fabric and tulle until the cold air hits my bare legs.  

“ERIS STOP!” I screamed pushing him off me with all my strength and it was enough to make him stumble. 

A dark shadow appears before us as if it was transported there, “Eris that’s enough! It’s time for the princess to go home.” Cassian roars. 

“Stay in your place bastard!” Eris seethes. “She belongs to me. I can use her however I like!” 

“She belongs to no one! You have no right to compromise her virtue before you wed her. Rhysand won’t allow it.” Cassian continues, the voice of a general coming through. One so demanding even I would lower my weapons for him, apparently not Eris. 

“Ha!” Eris laughs, thrusting a hand out to grab me by my neck. His grip is like a vice, a collar that burns hotter than one he already gave me. “Didn’t you hear her little begs? I think she might want to be deflowered before the ceremony. Wouldn’t you pet?”

Cassian’s hand strikes, grabbing Eris’ wrist. The one connected to the hand wrapped around my throat, “All I have to do is squeeze and that hand won’t hold a bow for months and I have the authority to do so. Get your fucking hands off her before I shatter your entire arm,” he growls and even I feel fear from his tone.    

The deafening ringing of the clocktower bells chime throughout the palace like the voice of the gods dampening the tension in the air. The seven chimes signal it’s time for me to return home once more. Eris releases me, and against my better judgment Cassian releases Eris. But it doesn’t stop them from staring daggers into one another, if Cassian jumps now it’ll be his head on a pike and I’d rather die than allow that to happen. 

“Cassian is right,” I say to Eris standing between the two of them. “It’s better if we wait. If you choose to marry me, imagine how amazing our wedding night will be.” I smile at Eris, pulling him for a passionate kiss, hiding every ounce of disgust I feel. 

“That’s more like it, my pet,” he smirks, glancing up at Cassian in a challenge. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Until then,” I smile, letting Cassian lead me away.  

The second we are around the corner that shields us from Eris’ view we both begin walking much faster. As if the eldest son of autumn is a monster at our heels and we have limited time to get out of this gods forsaken palace. When the crisp air of Autumn hits my skin Cassian doesn’t even ask if I’m ready before picking me up and shooting me into the sky.  

“We need to go talk to Rhys and tell him what happened,” Cassian said, his wings pounding with a new urgency. 

“No!” I protest. “We can’t tell him. I don’t want him to have an even more guilty conscience than he has from the last fifty years.” 

“Princess you saw what just happened back there! Eris was going to take advantage of you. Rhys deserves to know.” he argues. 

“If Rhys knows he’ll call off the courtship and if he calls off the courtship then I can’t marry Eris which means I can’t save my court,” I explain. 

“This has gotten out of hand princess, we have to tell your brother,” Cassian grumbles. 

“Cassian please, don’t take my choices away from me. I love my court and I love my family. If this is how I can help all of you in the war I want to,” I shrill. “I can take ‘the sky is falling’ from just about everyone but you. I need you to support me Cassian.” 

I look into Cassian’s eyes and I can see them still burning with unmatched fury. I let my own eyes plead to his, trying to convey how badly I needed him to stay quiet about what had happened. How badly I needed him to let me do this, to trust me. His eyes softened and his gaze fixed itself on the flight before us. 

“Fine,” he shook his head. “But if he pulls a stunt like that again I won’t stand by and watch this time.” 

“Of course not general,” I smile, watching the wind whip the stray hairs from his face. “I’ll hold while you punch.” 

Though he tries to hide his amusement at my joke, Cassian’s mouth can’t help but turn up into a half smile.

Part 4

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime, @heyyitsnat21,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358

[kalims]

the package deal

summary. random scenarios I think about daily

content. scenarios, fluff, not proofread

featuring. jamil, ace, floyd, gender neutral

note. @merotwst hello beh para ito sayo 🥺 SORY ITS VERY LATE I GOT BUSY

scenarios are by order of the names ^^ & double post as an apology for inactive-ness LOL

your personal basketball shield

"what in the great seven are you doing?"

"I'm doing nothing, I'm completely innocent." you nervously reply before adding; "and I'm um... a student from room C."

well the first part made you look suspicious now.

but the second part is a lie though.

you in fact, are not a student from room C. you purposely left out mentioning what year you were in all together in favor of hopefully, having your identity still anonymous the remainder you'd still be inside the court.

speaking of. you aren't even supposed to be here right now.

the student eyes you weirdly, and you refrain from sweating bullets under their gaze.

for your own sake you just ignore them and focus on the court, your eyes immediately zeroes on the seemingly tight block (attempt at this point) at floyd, but he doesn't have any problem getting past them at all. you blink and he had already slammed the ball in and hung off the net like he's trying to play monkey bars.

to be fair your getup is immensely out of place, you're wearing all black, the hood is over your head and you're wearing shades which wouldn't have been strange if you hadn't wore it indoors. a black jacket to match when it's 36 degrees outside? yeah right.

in all honesty you're trying to gaslight yourself that you're just here to show support for one of your friends but you hadn't spared a wink of a gaze in ace's direction ever since you had entered.

instead you're staring at an empty spot at the bench, usually occupied by a certain someone you know. yet it isn't, you're just staring in hopes that he'll magically appear out of thin air and leave you something to stare at.

you're a mixture of confusion, and disappointment. this isn't very independent boss of me. you sweatdrop, pining over a boy... was not part of your plan.

maybe getting hit by a basketball flying off court and miraculously in your direction wasn't too but thankfully before you could screech bloody hell and break your nose, a palm reaches out and literally slaps the ball away casually?

you peek out your arm and peek up at jamil who doesn't even look at you and stares in the direction of which where the ball had come from with unblinking eyes (it seemed kind of intense but you don't want to question it.) he's wearing his signature club wear, his water bottle present in his other hand and a towel over his shoulder. the slightly dampened fringes that frame his face tells you that he had gone to wash up.

"you should be aware of your surroundings." he chides.

and he finally looks at you, you swear you just exploded.

you don't have it in yourself to reply to the echo of an apology from the court but is only able to stare dumbly at jamil who stares back.

... this is awkward.

"thanks..." you trail off, flabbergasted and warm as hell. maybe you shouldn't have used a jacket? maybe it was the weather? definitely!

before you know it, he stalks off with a tilt of his head and you believe you're being delusional again when he keeps looking in your direction whenever he scores like... it's for you.

covering the edges of a table

"I can't believe you spend time with trey."

unsurprisingly there's a deadpan directed to ace, not from deuce, riddle, nor cater but from you. sure he's just teensy tiny little bit bothered because well, it's not like he considered those other people romantically and there's been a silent promise to himself to prove that he is in fact; not as dumb as you think he is when you look at him like that.

usually when 'that' comes into mind ace would have imagined it to be a look he gives you daily, like you're sure he's the biggest idiot of the world but he's your idiot. he definitely does not want to get into detail but it's those looks people in love give which he used to cringe about.

ironically enough he's one of the subjects daydreaming about it.

you get him? he wanted that look not this one.

ace throws up his arms in the air with a deep sigh. "I live with him but that doesn't magically make me good in cooking, plus... trey bakes!" he rolls his eyes, speaking with a matter-of-factly tone.

you squint at him.

"have you not tasted trey's homemade dishes for dinner? those are to die for."

"no I haven't." he snaps.

"to think you even have the resident cook of scarabia mentoring you..." you continue, dodging a spatula that was thrown at your head. you frown at him in mock disappointment. "now now, you really wanna get charged for assault?"

from across the counter ace gives you the forbidden triple fuck you fingers. there's a silly pink apron he wears because you stole the only one which doesn't give his eyes a seizure, a red one. red looks good on you, he thinks but then his eye twitches.

when he had invited you over most of the second and third years had gone out for a camp, right now the first years are rejoicing the absence of their strict dorm leader and cooped up themselves in their respective rooms, eating every single junk food in the rules.

so that meant no one was really willing to cook, even ace wanted take out but you gracefully intervened.

to be fair you were hungry and the food would arrive at like 2 hours with how much ordering the residents had done.

"I think it's ready." he scratches his head, looking more unsure than you.

"you think?"

just then the timer beeps.

"how hard is it to make curry..." you shake your head, grabbing a set of utensils... to use, somehow.. even you aren't that experienced because all crowley does is send you microwavable food from the convenience stores and only the pizza was decent enough to call nice.

his brow creases. "not that hard."

"do it then."

"..."

ace just stares at you, leans over and slaps you over the head. while you've been a victim of many of these, you didn't expect him to literally lean over the counter to do that. "assault." you comment dryly, you curse under your breath when it goes flying under the table.

"it's your word over mine." he shrugs. blinking when you crouch. "what are you doing?"

"I dropped them because of your criminal ass." you roll your eyes, reaching over to grab the scattered utensils all over the floor, great. now you have to wash them too.

only when you realize that there was a possibility of hitting your head (which by the way, was never a fun experience. you're sure there's a carved up line from how many times you've hit it on your head.) when your head indeed bumps, but it's not exactly the hard surface that sends a jolt of sharp pain up your head.

instead there is a soft cushion. it ruffles your hair a bit and you're immensely confused.

you immediately look up when you stand up, unharmed but ace is just looking away from you. stirring the... pot which is weird cause there hasn't been any seasonings put in it.

you shrug.

missing the red ears.

getting hit by a ball to his face but he pretends it doesn't hurt because you're there

you're surprised that basketball even exists in this world when they apparently can't tell the difference between magishift and football, you're practically itching to slap someone when you explain the similarities between the two and they still have the audacity to deadpan at you like they're the most different things to ever exist!

namely, some idiot named ace trappola.

maybe leona too since he was giving you a stinky side eye but you don't want to get slapped back too.

what you appreciate though is floyd, you can't tell if he's just a big, strong ball of idiocy or the smartest person between all the people listening cause he seemed to be the only one interested in what you were saying.

and he even agreed that they were similar! albeit even if his usual manners are confusing floyd isn't that much of a guy that agrees with people a lot so it's a shocker.

and you're confused why he seems to be so attached to you. the tweels are almost always together, where one is, always is the other trailing along. so you're a little concerned because you can't take the presence of the resident friendly terrorists of the schools.

floyd was always following you around till he just wordlessly shoves a flyer of a game that's about to occur in his club, a wide grin on his face as he boasts about how he's on the starting line up and 'going to crush the other team.' literally or figuratively? you don't know but.. probably both.

basically he wanted you to watch so here you are.

not to exaggerate or anything but he is indeed, crushing the other team. a whooping 17 point lead between them, of course NRC leading. you'd be more confused if they weren't the one in first if they have floyd. (who apparently attends practice like one time a week but just enough to stay at the club...)

not to mention before it even started floyd had mentioned something along the lines of decimating the other team for your name. which is floating around the borderline of romantic and insanity.

for your delusions you will believe it romantic.

you're torn if you should cheer for the team, cause you know. you are technically part of NRC so it's natural but you know floyd would get all pouty, in a bad mood so you hesitate. vice versa because if you cheer for floyd you're gonna get weird looks cause so far, he's been doing selfish plays, not passing but scoring.

well this is the least villainous thing a student from a school that worships villians can do...

floyd is playing well, you would not like to admit that you're staring because he looks a little too good in that uniform... sweaty, pushing his hair back with a grin as he glowers at his opponents and sends them into peeing their pants. it works though cause they almost always hesitate when floyd is the one they're up against.

just wow.

you're just 100% sure you're watching a basketball god who would ascend to a higher life form if he wasn't so lazy till there's an abrupt silence that definitely isn't normal.

thankfully you catch the sight of a ball being... shoved to floyd's face like a dunk? should you really be thankful to witness that.

and for once entirety of the room agreed on one thing for that person. rest in piece.

floyd rubs his face and narrows his eyes, it almost looked like he was about to tear up but you swear he looked at you and immediately forced a wobbly grin, closing his eyes so the tears wouldn't fall and opens them to stare at the poor guy intensely.

in the distance you could hear a vague chuckle of jade.

"you don't know where to dunk, lil' guy?" floyd flashes them a sharp toothed grin, ironically you witness their soul leaving their body at the sheer intensity he excludes. most held their breaths cause they're sure that he would have started quietly threatening them but... there's no threats.

almost like he's holding back to act unfazed?

the 'lil guy' gulps and can't even muster up an answer.

floyd smiles at him. "I'll show you."

before the game ended that player left with a red round stain on their face, clear evidence of floyd's 'accidental payback.'

... now he's asking if you've seen how he's carried the team.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Solstice Eve | Loki x Reader

You and Loki enjoy the run up to the Winter Solstice, getting to know the Asgardian court and integrating into your new home. But there's always trouble brewing and this time old allies come back as new enemies.

Warnings: some language, silly fluff, Christmas vibes in August, threat of kidnapping.

AN: what do you mean this is 8 months too late!?

Dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

Winter in Tonsberg was beautiful. You watched day after day as drifts of snow filled in the crags and tarns of the mountains surrounding the village. Every morning you made coffee for two, slowly learning all of the different dials and knobs of the expensive coffee machine Loki had in his impressively equipped kitchen. His cottage wasn’t as sprawling as the compound, but it was beautifully appointed. From the open stone fireplace to the waterfall shower and roll top bath, Loki had a wonderful eye for both luxury and comfort in even the most everyday items and habits. He allowed you to make any changes you wanted though, adding blankets you bought at the Sunday market, cushions and tapestries the elders gifted you and what felt to him like hundreds of candles. 

The house was always happier with a candle burning, cycling through vanilla and cinnamon, the scent clung to him when he attended council meetings and followed him to the small pub on the wharf, The Dog and Bildgesnipe, when he met with Thor. 

Loki had started adding sticks of cinnamon to the fire in the evening too, unable to go without it regardless of if you were in the cottage or not. He loved the way you’d changed his home, fitting perfectly into the nooks and spaces of his heart and moulding new and interesting ways to live out of every vacant moment. 

He watched you now, as you wrapped the ends of your sweater over your hands to protect them, standing at the window, watching the weather changing in the distance, the people passing and waving in the street. 

The morning had started like any other, tangled in a mess of bare limbs and soft sheets, Loki had kissed you awake and you’d showered together, giggling in the steam without a care. After your shower you’d dressed first, leaving Loki to enjoy the hot water while you sought out your first coffee of the day.

 As he watched, you sighed, leaning against the wooden window frame and raised your hand as Madam Gina walked past, the stooped old woman who had revealed so much of your life on that day at the end of November. Since then you’d seen her many times, mostly in the Long Hall where she took up residence on the sidelines, watching and smiling at the children playing or the business of the court. You liked it there too and had spent many happy afternoons since beside her, topping up her teacup whenever it got low.

Thankfully, there had been no more revelations and no more surprise visitors. Just the ebb and flow of life in Tonsberg as it should be, and Loki’s heart swelled to see you so settled. Everything was as it should be, he thought, ready for another day.

Tony ushered Steve into his office, checking the corridor before locking the door. Steve rolled his eyes, the entire office was empty at this hour, but he was glad Tony was at least taking their project seriously. 

“Have you done it?” Steve went straight for the desk, bending across to pull all the paper together and leafing through.It was unlike Tony to do anything the ‘old fashioned way’, as he called it, but he was determined to keep this project a complete secret.,

“Of course I’ve done it, you’re a sceptic, Rogers, anyone ever tell you that?” He circled around the wide glass desk and dropped himself into his office chair.

“I just want to make sure it’s right, we don’t know what we’re messing with here.” He scanned the paper again, the strange symbols and pictures a blur. 

“I’m sure, if we -” Tony snatched the papers back, searching for something, “if we - god fucking damnit this is why I hate paper - a ha!” With a flourish he pulled something from the bottom of the pile and slapped it onto the glass in front of Steve. “If we use this,” he tapped his fingers on a circling of runes, “we can keep him contained. I saw him in that castle, he could’ve used his magic and had her out in seconds, but instead he -” Tony made a motion over his throat with his thumb, “why would he make such a mess unless he had too?” 

“Tony, the mans a lunatic, maybe he just likes killing?” Steve sighed, pulling another chair closer so he could sit and flick through the pages instead. 

“I don’t disagree, that’s why I want to bring him in.” Tony took the page back, keeping it neatly to one side.

Steve rubbed a hand over his face and then looked out of the window. It had started to snow across the compound in the last few days, slushy grey drifts that made him think of Brooklyn in the 40s, churned up snowmen and bitter cold nights. 

“What are you going to do with him, once he’s here?” He asked, his mind wandering to Bucky, currently safe on the sofa in his own apartment. Probably still mooning after Natasha, but at least he was safe. They’d locked him up too, and he was innocent, doubt crept into his consciousness but Tony was already answering. 

“Lock him up, throw away the key?” Tony said, glibly . 

“Tony,” Steve’s tone was firm, if they were arresting a man then they needed more of a plan than just locking him up. 

“We put him on trial. Thor says he’s served time in Asgard and been ‘rehabilitated’, something about the Mind Stone and I don’t fucking buy it. He’s a liability and Thor won’t help us, went all Prince Charming with a sore head when I suggested it.” 

Steve remembered Thor leaving, no one had heard from him since but he was fairly sure he was back in Norway. He wouldn’t leave the Asgardians for long. 

“I remember. So, we put him on trial and then?” Steve trailed off, “put him in prison? What prison would even hold him?”

Tony’s eyes lit up, “And then we charge the Federal Bureau of Prisons a small fortune to keep him here! I love it Rogers, you’re starting to get it!” 

“Tony.” 

“Then we know we’re doing the right thing, okay, girl scout. He’s got that girl all wrapped around his fingers, who knows what awful, evil things he’s twisting into her mind. We get him, we get him on trial and then we get her back.” 

“Fine.” Steve gave a heavy sigh, “When?” 

“Tomorrow.” 

“Do you know where he is?” 

“Tonsberg, where else would he be,Thor said he was under Asgard’s protection.” 

“Tomorrow, Tonsberg.” 

“Just us though, don’t worry anyone else about it now.” Tony said, cryptically. 

Steve scowled, he hated these backdoor deals, if he was doing them then so were a hundred other people and who knew what they were up to. But he had promised to keep Estrid safe and then she’d slipped away, been seduced by Loki and under his watch, kidnapped, attacked, vanished. Despite his doubts and fears about how Loki’s imprisonment might play out, he couldn’t leave a woman in such clear danger. 

“Agreed, let’s get him locked up where he can’t hurt anyone anymore.” 

“That’s the spirit, Rogers.” Tony grinned again and Steve’s stomach turned again. 

—

Loki pulled his sweater on, abandoned on the back of the sofa the night before, and kept half an eye on you while he collected his own coffee from the kitchen island. On light steps he crept up to you and wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“How’s the weather today, my Darling?” He sipped his coffee, looking down at you with that wistful smile he seemed to have permanently etched on his face. 

“Cold, snowy,” anyone else may have looked miserable at prospect of a below freezing day on the unforgiving coast, but not you. No, Loki had noticed you were always happy to enjoy the changing season and everything they had to offer. Whether it was the bright sunshine he'd met you in, the crisp autumn leaves that coated the ground are his cabin, or now the blanket of snow that has been placed like a cosy blanket across the entire horizon. “We should go for a walk later, on the cliff tops, if it’s not too windy.” You suggested, finishing your coffee. You span in his arms, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair. 

“That sounds wonderful, Asynja, I’ll try and get out of this council meeting early. In fact, would you like to attend? I believe we’re discussing the last preparations for the Solstice feast and Yule celebrations. I’m sure your new friends would enjoy your company while they weave the wreath.” He teased, kissing your forehead. 

The elders of the village had taken quite a shine to you and you’d easily fallen into step with the other women, helping to prepare for the feast and giving advice on the decorations. In reality, you had no idea what was happening when they asked. It has come as a surprise that they not only allowed you to join them, but sought your input with genuine interest. Especially as you had barely celebrated anything while you lived as a mortal in London. There’d been no Yule, no Christmas. Nothing. But you were excited to share this first celebration with Loki. 

“Leave my friends alone,” you chided playfully, “I’d love to come, let me just -” 

You barely had to move to use your magic now, a simple flick of your fingers and you had summoned your boots and tights, a corduroy skirt and knitted jumper. Your coat and scarf were by the door. Although it was below freezing outside it didn’t seem to bother either of you, Loki never felt the cold and you were always able to conjure enough warmth in your hands to keep the Norwegian wind at bay. 

“Are you ready?” You asked, skipping out of his grasp and opening the door, letting a swirl of snow in over the doorstep. 

“Of course I am,” he answered, a wisp of his own magic dancing in the air as a duplicate called to you from down the street. 

With a laugh you shut the door, chasing him down, your magic and laughter entwined with the softly falling snow. 

Loki was right, the council meeting was no more than a decorators committee at this point in the month, but you both revelled in the feeling of being part of something more, something soft and warm that filled you with happiness just like the hot spiced wine and thick stew that was passed around at lunch time. 

By the time Brunnhilde had called an ending to the proceedings it was already dark, the street light reflecting from the crisp snow and the moon illuminating the edges of the water. 

“I guess we’re not going for that walk on the cliffs after all,” you grouched playfully, wrapping yourself around Loki’s arm as you walked side by side. 

“As much as I’d enjoy having you all to myself in the dark of night,” Loki purred in return, freeing his arm just to wrap it around your waist, “I fear we have friends waiting.” He kissed the top of your head and you snuggled closer.

Loki led you from the Long Hall where the King held her council, and decoration, meetings to the lone pub in the village. Val had commiserated on the necessary building of some restaurants and a hotel on the edge of the village to accommodate the increasing number of tourists, but the pub remained solely for the Asgardians, their visitors, and no one else. You had a feeling there was some sort of spell or enchantment that made it invisible to the tourists that passed by the windows, but you’d never felt the need to ask when the welcome was always so warm for you. 

At the entrance, Loki held the door for you, whisking away your coat in a flurry of magic and ice cold wind. Beyond the bar was already bustling with laughter and bodies, each hand raised in greeting as you both passed, some muttering “your highness” still, unable to lose their deference. 

“Evening,” Loki shook hands politely with some and patted others on the shoulder, leading you to a booth by the window already occupied by Thor, beside him was a slender woman with dark brown hair and delicate features, tapping on a table and trying to show Thor something while he shuffled closer. Every time he moved, the woman moved away, just slightly, but you didn’t need to read their body language to know this was not a couple that’d last, you felt it deep inside, like an instinct. 

Loki stopped and coughed loudly, “good evening, brother.” He smirked at Thor’s blush. 

“Good evening, Loki.” Thor replied, stiffly, “good evening, Trouble.” He stood and crushed you into a hug, startling you out of your thoughts. “Let me introduce you to my-” 

“Friend,” the woman interrupted, “Jane Foster, it’s lovely to meet you.” She smiled, shaking your hand, and scooched over enough to make space for you both on the bench seat. But as you looked at her, you could sense there was more. Images of her and Thor rose unbidden in your mind, and that golden thread of connection still hung between them, slack and dim, but still there in your mind’s eye. Interesting. 

“I’m Estrid,” the name still didn’t feel right, and you’d suggested to some of the others they could use your old name as a sort of nickname, but it hadn’t stuck, not with Loki around. 

“Princess Estrid,” he said, proudly, draping a protective arm around the back of the seat and rubbing his thumb against your shoulder. 

“Well I sure Jane doesn’t care about all of that,” you smiled at her, and she smiled back, but before you could say anything else Thor had reached over the table and tapped a large finger on the wood. 

“Doctor Jane, she’s a Doctor.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure Estrid doesn’t care about all that either,” she pushed his hand away, “I’m really pleased to meet you, Thor’s told me all about you and, well, I’ve got some experience with Asgardian nonsense too. It’s good to meet you, is what I was trying to say, and maybe I could read your electromagnetic impulses some time, if that’s okay?” Jane rushed her words out, the tablet clutched in one hand, her eyes twinkling with excitement. 

“I don’t know about that,” Loki squeezed your shoulder.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Loki, don’t worry about it. I’d be happy for you to read my electromagnetic impulses, I think -”

The bar tender set down a tray of glasses, a tankard of ale for Thor, a glass of aged fifteen year old whiskey for Loki and a bottle of chilled white wine with two glasses. 

“Loki, Thor,” the bartender nodded at them both, polite, but without the obsessive reverential treatment of the older Asgardians. “Princess,” you smiled back and thanked him.

“Doctor!” Thor tapped his finger again. 

“My apologies, Doctor Foster,” he stammered, retreating to the bar. 

“God he’s so embarrassing, I’m so sorry.” Jane turned to you, ignoring Thor’s aghast expression and opening the wine, “I’ll pour.”

Safe in the knowledge that you and Jane were perfectly able to handle yourselves, Thor and Loki took a polite turn around the bar, speaking with the villagers and their friends in turn. 

After the first bottle, Brunnhilde appeared, signalling for the bartender for three more drinks and joining you and Jane in your booth. 

“I don’t know how you both put up with those two.” She said, sliding into the seat, a bottle of wine in one hand and mead in the other. 

You hadn’t realised how lovesick your sigh was until Brunnhilde laughed, shaking your shoulder, “sorry,” you blinked a few times, tearing yourself away from the sight of Loki half bent over a cards table a few feet away. His black jeans were pulled tight around the curve of his thighs and you just knew if he turned you’d be able to see the outline of every wonderful inch of him hidden beneath. He’d discarded his aran sweater when the fire had roared to life at the edge of the room, leaving him in a forest green shirt, rolled up to his elbows. As he moved you watched as the veins in his hands became more pronounced, gliding your gaze up to his broad shoulders and the black curls that fell over his face when he laughed. 

It wasn’t just that he looked good enough to eat, he also looked happy, rested and content, his friends around him and purpose every day. He gave you purpose too, joining in the council activities and practising your magic.

“Hate to break it to you, B’, but I don’t put up with him anymore.” Jane said, sadly. 

“What? I thought you two were-” you hesitated to elaborate and Jane took pity on you. 

“We broke up, it just wasn’t working. But I’d already agreed to spend the Solstice and Yule here, so - maybe it was a stupid idea.” 

“No, no-” Brunnhilde pulled her into a hug and it occurred to you that they probably already knew each other, if Thor had brought her here before. “You’re always welcome in Asgard.” The King winked and Jane blushed. 

“I’m sorry - that things didn’t work - I didn’t mean,” you stammered acutely aware that this was now a reunion of friends and you knew nothing about them. “I can go, if you want to talk and catch up-” 

“No, stay, please.” Jane smiled a lot, there was always something in the corner of her lips, wanting to be happy, but this smile was softer so you sat back down. “Now, tell me what it’s like having fire magic.” 

The wine, beer and mead flowed freely in the tavern that night, every villager in their cups excited for the celebrations to come. At midnight you decided to head home, passing Loki on your way to the door, he slung an arm around your hips, pulling you to his side. 

“I’m going to stay awhile, my darling, if you don’t mind,” he looked up at you from his cards table, his blue eyes like sparkling frost in the firelight, and you bent to kiss his quickly. 

“I don’t mind, handsome, you stay.” You ran a hand through the errant curls that had formed in the warm atmosphere. 

“Are you walking with someone?” Despite the many empty glasses spread across the table, he was still alert and concerned, scanning the pub for any danger. You both bore the memory of your kidnapping, a sense of fear when you were alone without anyone, despite being stronger now. 

“B’ is going home too, Jane is staying in the rooms at the back, but Thor said he’d see me home if you wanted to stay.” 

At the sound of his name Thor thundered towards you both, clapping a hand on your shoulder and giving you a little shake. You could almost feel the wine sloshing inside of you and you patted his fingers, hoping he’d stop. 

“Fear not, brother, I can escort the maidens home.” Thor bowed theatrically, behind him Jane and Brunnhilde snorted with unrestrained laughter and you couldn’t help joining in. 

“Very well, take care of my Asynja,” he tugged you down and kissed you again, the taste of whisky and honey dancing on his tongue as he deepened the kiss. 

“That’s enough, either let her leave or walk her yourself.” Brunnhilde gave you a shove, waving behind her as Loki turned back to his game. 

You were happy to let him stay, pleased to see he’d taken up new friendships since you’d both become so settled. You’d miss falling asleep next to him, but you knew he’d be home soon and you needed your bed immediately, your head was already swimming. 

Jane left your party first, taking the steep steps at the back of the tavern to the rooms above. You’d offered her your spare room tomorrow, but tonight just thinking about removing your makeup and brushing your teeth seemed too much, making the spare bed was unimaginable. 

The King took the side street behind the Long Hall, waving goodnight as you and Thor made your way to Loki’s cottage. You’d left a light on above the door and it illuminated the wreath you’d made and hung there earlier in the week. 

Opening the door the soft scent of cinnamon and pine drifted into the crisp night and Thor once more embraced your arm. 

“Estrid,” he looked down at you, suddenly very serious, even the way he said that name held a gravitas that gave you goosebumps. 

“Yes?” 

“Thank you,” he smiled, pulling you into a bear hug and squeezing you tight. 

“What for?” You laughed, trying to squirm free. 

“For making your home here, for trusting Loki and I. I have seldom seen him as happy as when he’s with you. I’m glad to have you here, Trouble.” He ruffled your hair playfully, his own drinking catching up to him. “May you be here for many more celebrations.” 

“Well, thank you for welcoming me, Thor.” This time you lifted your arms and wrapped them around his neck, hugging him back, and he lifted you off the ground, shaking you from side to side until you were both crying with laughter. “I think -” you hiccuped, “I think we should both go to bed and sleep. Lots to do tomorrow.” 

“Yes, yes,” he wiped a tear from his eye, “I must fight Loki tomorrow.” 

“What?” In your bewilderment you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Oh not truly fight him. But we must pretend to fight, so I can beat winter and spring will come again. Have no fear, I shall return your beloved to you unharmed.” And with that he patted your back and wandered into the village, humming to himself. He tripped slightly on the decorations that had appeared along the harbour as you’d drunk. With a happy giggle he danced around the wreath and meandered back to his own home. 

Across the harbour there was a flicker in the window of the now abandoned harbour master’s house and Steve sat back on his haunches. 

“He hasn’t left that bar,” he groused, rubbing the arms of his stealth suit against the cold of the night. “But she seems safe, Thor is here as well.”

Next to him, Tony turned the heater of his suit up, “of course he is, I’ve never met a worse double agent in my life.” 

“He’s hardly a double agent, he’s loyal to his brother, I can’t exactly blame him for not following orders.” He thought of his best friend, safely tucked up in the compound with his budding relationship with Natasha to distract him. He knew what it was to choose loyalty over command. 

“Well, he’s not on our side. We just have to get him alone and then we can lock him up and forget about it.” Tony leant back on the creaking wicker chair. 

“You said we'd do this properly.” 

“Yes, yes, whatever you need to help you sleep at night Spangles.” Tony waved his hand, the gauntlet of his suit catching the faint light. 

The little house had stood empty since the it’s two inhabitants had been arrested by the King of Asgard and her guards. It had been damp and cold enough before then, but now the frost lay thick on the inside, as well as the outside, of the small windows and Steve was jealous of Tony’s heating system, the soldier rubbed his hands together. 

“Let's just be quick.”

“Wouldn't want you becoming a Capsicle again.” 

Across the bay the tavern door opened again and a square of warm light cut across the black cobbles. In the doorway a familiar figure filled the space leaving a silhouette of his lean body dancing on the ground as he waved drunkenly behind him. 

“Let’s go.” Steve ordered, pulling the dark cowl of his suit over his head. 

<< Chapter 17

Chapter 19>>

[ghost-bxrd]

Ghost, you are a fountain of incredible aus. I am impressed (and a little jealous). Do you have anything more on eldritch Jason or the Calvin Rose road trip au?

Awe thank you! I’m happy you’re enjoying all the crack content on here hehehe 💚💚

and boi do I have more ✨

Edlritch Jason 👁️

Jason has trouble keeping his true form in check when he’s excited! The happier/upset he gets, the more his outline and shape start to ooze

He has several maws with teeth that range from blunt to sharp needle points. In one of those maws hides a black hole

Jason is scared of space, funnily enough. Too empty and vast for him as he gets lonely pretty easily. He likes the crowded spaces teeming with life.

Jason loves learning new human things

Jason has no reaction to fear or joker toxin. Or any kind of substance that would impair a regular human’s health. Bruce finds out about that after he nearly loses his mind with worry following a widespread toxin attack in which Jason “forgets” his rebreather.

Pictures of Jason always end up looking a little displaced. There’s always some kind of glitch/blur/shadow in it that no amount of tech improvement can get rid of

Even though he’s eldritch at core, Jason’s human body can still be hurt, and he experiences pain just like any other human would

Calvin Rose road trip 🌹

Calvin finds Jason soaking wet and still in his funeral clothes and injuries sitting by the curb and is disturbed enough by the kid’s appearance to usher him back to his hideout.

For the longest time Calvin thinks Jason is called Bruce because that’s the only thing he will say

Taking Jason with him is a spur of the moment decision. Jason reminds him too much of himself, beaten and broken and locked away in a dog cage to die, and he looks so… lost. Calvin can’t bear to drive away from that without knowing what happens to the kid

As much as Calvin grumbles about it sometimes he’s exceptionally good and patient with Jason. He talks a lot and points out inane things even though he rarely (if ever) gets a reaction. (Calvin was lonely, not that he’s gonna admit that)

For some time Calvin thinks Jason used to be trained as a Talon when a few people try to mug them and Jason goes all Robin-training on them. He’s sure their little experiments went to far and the Court meant to dispose of him now that he’s “broken”

The first words Jason speaks that isn’t any iteration of Bruce’s name is “burger” (because he wants a burger). Calvin buys him ten because that’s literally the first time Jay has ever expressed an opinion on food.

Jason’s second word is “Dick”, and Calvin nearly chokes to death on his beer.

From there on it’s a steady improvement of Jay’s mental state, but that also means he starts getting night terrors as he remembers his death and the Joker. Once Calvin pieces together the broad picture he’s down to devising plans to dispose of the clown. He’s not making compromises where people who hurt children are concerned. Especially not if they’re family

Jason never tells Calvin about Batman or being Robin, he’s… kind of happy to be away from all of it. Especially after seeing Brucie Wayne and his new protege and Dick Grayson, a happy and smiling family, on the news together. And sightings of Robin making the front page of most magazines

Calvin knows Jason is hiding something from him, but hey, so is Calvin. All he knows is that his kid brother road trip buddy really doesn’t seem to like Gotham’s vigilantes. Something he can totally respect. And thankfully, Calvin is skilled enough to keep him safe even if the glorified furry and his acolytes were to come after Jay for whatever reason.

Jason’s favorite song to listen to while driving is “I know the end” by Phoebe Bridgers. Calvin starts out hating the song but is to endeared by how happy Jason gets (even in his early catatonic state) that he doesn’t say anything. It ends up being both their favorite song

[writingsofwesteros]

*holds a cup* pls oh pls may i have crume of larys strong! since the new pictures have dropped ive been craving the rat man. maybe something with the hunting scene where we are first introduced to his character. like him and his wife just being domestic with their childeren with maybe a little smut thank you<3

AN: Hi, I hope you like it . I'm sorry, the smut escaped me n this ..i got lost with the cuteness !

“I heard she is with a babe again.” The whispers of the gossiping Ladies of the court continued as did the feast. The young Queen rested her own hand on the large stomach as she listened with growing interest. It had only come to her attention just recently of the family the younger Strong brother had and it had only intrigued her. “I am surprised such things can happen.” The malice in the Lady’s tone was well noted and seemingly agreed by the group around her, Alicent thought to herself. It was not long before her attention was brought to the opening doors; the sound of an announcement ringing in the room. “The Lord and Lady Strong and their children.”

Alicent watched as a sea of different shades of blue moved into view. The rest of the Lords and Ladies not so subtly turned to look. It seemed the rumours were in fact true as the Queen noted the small bump under the dark blue material of the Lady’s dress. Alicent’s doe eyes moved over the family; noting the two young children - a boy and girl. Larys gently held his daughter’s hand as they moved through the crowds. He ignored the stares with ease; a lifetime of doing so and thankfully his sweet girls did not notice. His son, however, was a different story as he moved into his mother’s side quite protectively. It seems Larys had taught him well, the Lord smirked with such thoughts.

“Do you think we have to stay long?” Larys hummed as he stepped closer to his wife; eyes always watching around them. His wife sweetly threw a smile over her shoulder; a smile he could lose himself in. “Yes, my love.” Thankfully, the King had not made his presence known and there was no need to present themselves. “I thought you enjoyed such gatherings?” His wife asked in complete innocence as the group gracefully moved towards the empty table, much to Larys’ relief. Larys once upon a time had enjoyed such occasions as he gathered information to his benefit, but that was before he had his own family and wife to enjoy.

“I did, but now I have something more important to use my time with.” Larys hummed as he settled beside her. A soft blush came over her face as she ducked her head. Delicately, she reached for a goblet of wine. A soft grunt escaped Larys as his daughter roughly moved into his lap without a care in the world. “You spoil her too much.” His love whispered as if she had not allowed their son to sit on her lap. Larys could only chuckle in amusement whilst keeping a protective hold on his daughter. “Can I have a cake mama?” His sweet boy whispered a little loud which had his wife giggling and keeping him impossibly close. “Hmm, only a small one, sweet boy.” She gracefully reached her ringed hand onto the batch of lemon cakes before her son was grabbing at them. 

His chubby fingers soon dug into the delicious cake as his wife only giggled. A small smile tugged on Larys’ lips as he watched on. The soft lull of the royal musicians filled the room as the family settled in silence. His hand reached for his wife’s leg; gently squeezing as he took comfort in the notion she was so close. It seemed as ever their peace could never last as Larys turned his head; the sound of feet moving gained his attention.”My Queen.” Larys acknowledged as Alicent stepped closer; the Ladies of the court having stayed back. His wife’s sweet voice echoed the greeting whilst his daughter seemed to look up in complete confusion.

“I do not think we have been introduced?” Alicent’s curiosity got the better of her as Larys’ wife gracefully moved to stand. If the Queen had looked further; she would have noticed the flicker of annoyance cross over Lord Strong’s dark eyes. Perfectly, his wife curtsied whilst his son grabbed at his mother’s skirts with now sticky hands. Not that his wife cared, no she adored her children. It had warmed Lary’s heart; a heart he thought would be ice forever. “I do not think we have, my Queen.” His wife’s soft voice brought him out of his thoughts whilst his sweet girl moved to stand. “They are beautiful.” Alicently whispered and his wife could only duck her head in thanks.

“Your Aegon is a darling.” His wife whispered truthfully as Larys fought off his eye roll. The little Prince was a devil but he seemed to adore his love. Alicent gave a thankful smile before turning her attention to Larys. He made no move to stand, which the Queen took because of his disability. If only she knew the truth, he thought to herself. It seemed fate was on their side as the announcement of the King came through and the Queen’s interest was taken away. “Henry!” His wife called out as it seemed their son had grabbed another lemon cake to stuff in his mouth secretly. His giggles echoed and Larys’ wife could never stay mad at their children for long.

Her fingers gently moved through his dark locks as he cuddled into her side whilst their daughter curiously looked around the room. “Brother.” The familiar, deep voice of Harwin came from the side as his son ran to his brother’s arms. “Uncle!” A soft smile came over her face as she watched the gentle sight; all the while her daughter kept a hold of Larys’ hand. His sweet wife did not see the tension between the two brothers, neither did Harwin if Larys was truthful with himself. Still, Larys forced a smile as they greeted each other whilst he fought off a comment of the looks his brother had given the Princess. “My lovely good sister.” Harwin smiled brightly as he placed a kiss on her cheek.

The act only had Larys’ eyes twitching before he controlled himself. Larys only found himself calming when his sweet wife reached for his hand once more. Their fingers entwined and for a moment, he could completely ignore the stares still lingering on them. “Can we leave now, mama?” Their lovely daughter whispered and looked up with those big, doe eyes.

[fan-goddess]

The decay of marital flesh

Authors Note: This has taken months to complete, and I am so happy that people have taken time to ask me about this and have wanted to have a part two of my original oneshot that I didn’t know would get so popular. So here’s the depressive thing that took me months to compete cause I needed to be in an angsty mood to write. Here’s my blood and angst

Summary: A part two of this piece here. This is the depressing version of it and the other happy part will be linked to this part here.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of f oral, self harm, blood, kinslaying, cheating on partner (I’ve probably no doubt missed warnings so if you see any you think I should add then let me know!)

Taglist: @ietss, @papichulo120627, @rorawinters, @introverbatim, @alicentswife, @brie-annwyl, @victoriagaunt, @kyla44, @pax-2735, @omgbcat @bellameshipper, @coolsiaisaqueenstuff, @snh96, @devils-blackrose, @blue-serendipity, @dahlias-and-marigolds, @glame, @jennifer0305, @humanpurposes, @valeskafics, @aemondwhoresworld @leiakim99

Whenever you slept, somehow the weight of the letter always found a way to haunt you. Whenever your hand managed to sweep under and made direct contact with the paper, it practically burned to the touch with no explanation how.

Klarissa had soon became one of your trusted, friends? She would come into your chambers to place your food in the morn and look at you intently and with questions she herself knew would remain unanswered. You never spoke to her again of the contents of the original letter, nor did she ever thankfully attempt to ever bring it up. It was thing about her you found yourself grateful for.

Though it seemed Klarissas silence on the topic may soon be broken. As recently, more letters, similar to the original, were beginning to make themselves known to you.

Though this time, you cannot bring yourself to read them. You can only stare at them while they burn into nothing in your fireplace. You can only watch as whatever words and meaning they once possessed become ash and soot. Maybe they were letters asking for forgiveness? Or asking for a conference where he begged for you to not spill his blood just as you instructed him that you would? Either way, you held firm belief that nothing of that sort would be happening.

Not while Aemond continued to breathe, and to live.

Aemond does not believe that you are reading any of his letters any more. The maid who had given to you his first letter, whose eyes once held fear of his position, now hold only sympathy and sadness. She doesn’t need to say what he had been fearing. It’s written plain and clearly all over her face.

Still, he can’t help but wish to cry at the realisation, even though he knew it would happen some time or later. An act he does not even think he’s done since he was robbed of his eye. Yet his sudden loss of you, the one person who he should have protected and been with, brings to him more emotion throughout his entire body than he’s felt in his entire life. Even when his sorrow begins to spread through out him, throughout his soul, the tears do not fall. He cannot dare let them. He cannot appear weak in front of the court. He cannot dare appear to be weak in front of you.

His chambers seem all too empty when he enters them. The bed appears stiff and uninviting. The books appear meaningless and empty. Even the fire seems too cold. Even when he begins edging closer and closer to the flames until he’s practically face to face with them.

“Aemond, what are you doing?!” His mothers frantic voice breaks him from his trance before he could fully put his arm in the fire. Only hearing the sudden frantic sound of his mother’s voice does he begin feeling the heat of the flames against his skin. It’s an addictive feeling, as for the first time in months he feels alive. It feels like your fiery touch is caressing him again.

“It does not matter mother… why are you here?” Aemond curtly says, begrudgingly stepping away from the flames to look at her with a soulless eye.

“Aemond, my son, I’m afraid that the court are beginning to talk. They question your marriage, they question your-“

“I do not care about what the people question mother!” Aemond shouts. Raw emotion and anger overflowing from his skin in waves as he stalks to his mother and grips her arms roughly in emphasis of his frustration. He can feel his unkempt nails digging into her arms, and he can even see the slight fear that slowly envelopes her. Yet still, he does not relent on his hold of her, even when she tries to escape from him. “The people do not know how it is I have suffered! How much my wife has suffered! I will not have those insufferable cunts dictating things about my own marriage!”

His nails unknowingly leave small dents in his mother’s arms. His nails which have grown long from neglect begin to draw into her skin so deeply that even with the clothing between the two, he nearly manages draws blood. It’s not even until she begins to wince and voice her pain does Aemond notice what he’s doing to her. What he’s doing to his own mother.

“M-mother I-“

“Save it Aemond. I know you are mourning in your own way. I know that your wife is mourning. She is mourning my son because it was you who betrayed the scared vows the two of you spoke together, and insisted that you drew blood for. It is well within her right to burst down these doors and draw that same blood from you with her own blade. I will not let you drag that girl down with you my son, just because you wish to cling to a long rotted away life that you yourself threw away, all for a fucking bastard wet nurse belonging to house strong!”

Aemond does not move when his mother shouts as him. He does not even blink when his mother’s passionate anger leaves small spit trails on his face. For everything she just said is true. It was him who broke the scared marital bond between him and you. For that, he should suffer no less than a thousand cuts.

Aemonds single eye goes back to the fire where he had sat earlier, and goes to sit there once more. Once again, he does not truly feel the heat it should be providing him. He adds a couple loose logs in the fire, prodding them around slightly with an iron poker.

Aemond drops it though when a log jolts suddenly and startles him, and hisses when the red hot poker makes contact with his upper thigh, burning him. Though he cannot deny the slight satisfaction it brings him to feel the pain flare through his clothes. So he strips himself till he is only in his underclothes, and he does it again, and again. Hissing under his breath each time it makes contact with the pale skin. Maybe this is how he will get closer to you? How he will successfully manage to feel the pain that you felt when you had to push the physical manifestation of his betrayal curse you? He knows it is unlike anything he could ever truly experience, but he has to try. For you, and for the baby he will never meet.

When you begin burning the next letter in the fire, adjusting it slightly with the poker hanging on the side of the fireplace, you can hear an unknown person entering the room with an audible creak coming from the direction of the door. Klarissa had slyly mentioned a few days previous how it was like that due to your infrequent comings and goings. If you didn’t know her name and respect her slightly, you probably would’ve had her relocated immediately for such cheek.

“I think my brother takes great time and thought into writing those letters princess.” A distinctive voice and nickname causes a rare smile to form, still looking at the fire before you.

“Good. Then maybe he’ll learn to be sorry and he’ll learn what my pain was like.” Your voice is surprisingly cold, even with such a warm smile on your lips. It even surprises yourself slightly.

“Well, as much as I do appreciate your determination for damning my brother, I don’t think he’ll share that same sentiment. Do you even read them? Or do you just immediately condemn them to ash? Because I’d hate to think some poor soul like my mother writes a letter to you only to have it thrown to the flames…”

“I’m not that overcome with anger, my prince. I do look at the handwriting of the letters before I, as you so plainly put it, condemn them to ash.” It’s almost annoying how easy it is for Aegon to make you smile. He’s become the light to shine you through your dark ages. A friend amongst the snakes and the thorns that weave and poison the court, looking only in ways to further their power.

“How many times have I told you sweet princess to call me Aegon? I think after everything we’ve done and been through together, we’d have been properly acquainted with each others company. As much as my little brother utterly detests the very idea of it.” Aegon now sits beside you at the fire, his everything already making your tensed frame ease into a more calm and relaxed one. He does not make any move to stop you from making sure the letter is properly burned into nothingness. An act you appreciate immensely.

“My brother, was a fool to believe he needed someone else to comfort him...”

The quick comment is also quickly followed by a deathly sort of silence in the room. The only thing being able to penetrate it being the comforting sound of the crackling flames.

Though not a few minutes after, from the corner of your eye, you can spot Aegons hand slowly and cautiously placing itself on your arm, drawing your attention to him as you cautiously drop the poker and turn to him. His face looks like the one of a deer when it’s caught in a trap, fear and panic. Though by the way he had approached you, it was as if he was trying to approach an unpredictable creature from the forest. A beast.

“Can I be so bold princess, as to say something to you?” His voice is practically one of a whisper. So meek that you didn’t know if you had heard him correctly the first time.

“Of course Aegon? You are my closest confidant.” Your words though, supposed to be ones of comfort, makes Aegons lips turn in a slight grimace. Yet still, he wets his lips before speaking.

“You… are everything any man I think could ever need in a wide. Which is why i am so disappointed in him. Why take that bastard into his bed, when he could have had you…” Aegon then cautiously leads his head forward and captures your open mouth with his own.

You cannot move. You cannot think. You cannot say anything to stop what is going on in that moment. There is only one thing that races specifically through your head however. One question that stands out from the rest.

Do you even want Aegon, your husbands brother, to stop?

In your confusion, you find yourself unable to move a muscle. Only it seems Aegon mistakes your lack of action and your confusion as a direct answer. Since his once shy hands move with a surprising confidence from your arm, to delicately cupping at your cheek and your head.

You cannot deny that the kiss did not leave a warm feeling erupting in your chest, and a fluttering sensation to churn in your heart. Yet there is one other thing you can think off while this is happening. You can only ponder on how strange it truly feels to kiss another man other than your husband. How strange it is to betray your marriage like he had done.

When Aegon finally breaks away from you, you can see that his eyes have grown dark with presumably desire. Yet unlike other men, he makes no move to direct you to the nearest bed like you would expect him to do. Instead, it looks as if his eyes have softened as they look into your own. A strange kind of peace drifting over him that you’d never really seen on him, nor even on another person before.

“Why did you do that…” You mutter, watching the way the flames make his skin look almost golden in the light.

His eyes though still hold that same strange look of softness, and his hand begin to stroke at your cheek with a strange type of fondness.

“Because I’ve been wanting to do it for quite some time now.”

It’s so simple. Spoken so calmly with a careless shrug, that it’s almost as if it was the easiest thing Aegons ever said in his life, and yet it causes an immediate feeling of panic and terror to erupt deep within your chest.

Your head moves your body in such a hurry that you had almost toppled over, if Aegon had not clutched at you so quickly to keep you steady. Yet at the feeling of his practically burning hands on your bare skin you push away from him.

Your head races with the discovery of Aegons… desires? Feelings even? Whatever they are, they’re something you never would’ve known about if not for Aemonds betrayal to his vows.

You know you should be angry at Aegon for what he has done. Angry at yourself even for not immediately pushing him off of you, a still married woman. And yet, when he kissed you, you felt more alive and happy then you’ve felt since Aemonds betrayal.

Even as you pace the room, Aegons keen eyes watch you with concern and slight anticipation at your next move. Like a dog always waiting for it’s masters command. He doesn’t move from the spot he originally sat in, only turning on his and trailing after your pacing with his eyes.

“I don’t know if I could ever love you-“

“You do not have to love me!” At the confession, Aegon is suddenly standing before you, your hands clasped tightly in his. Almost too tightly. As if he was grasping a delicate object he was too afraid would collapse and smash into a thousand pieces. The issue with that concern though, is that you’ve already been broken into thousands of tiny pieces and put back together again. In the end, there’s nothing left for him to break that’s not already been broken before. “All you need to do, my sweet princess, is let me in…”

This time, you do not break away so suddenly from Aegon when he kisses you again. Instead, you tightly grip at his warm fire like flesh in your fingers, and allow for his body to envelope you in senses you thought would never be awoken again.

That night, you felt the crash of everything you have ever been feeling, and everyone that’s made you feel that pain hit you all at once. That night, the hurting finally stopped for a time, and was replaced with only pleasure.

Aemond feels tired, exhausted, and drained, all in one. The words that he attempts to write to you blur all into one as his head swims with an ache that he has no idea whether is due to his deformity or due to his lack of sleep and self care. Either way, it’s in the way, and if Aemond could, he would rip it from his head so he could be done with it all.

He’s seen glimpses and heard plenty of tales of Aegon coming and going from your chambers. Seemingly, a strange bond has formed between the two of you, as before his time at Harrenhal, you’d never spoken to him. Yet now, he hears whispers of his brother leaving your presence and your chambers nearly every day.

Now he not only is jealous of his brothers soon to be crown. Now, he must bear witness and be forced to sit and wallow in his jealousy of Aegons access to your touch and your voice. Of Aegons access to his wife.

The letter in front of him, his unknown number attempt at reconciliation, is half written. The quill in his hand half poised to write as it drips dark raven ink onto the page and bleeds onto the dark oak desk.

Maybe he should write it with his own blood? Slice his palm and let it drip into a cup, before dipping his quill into it and writing his heartbreak with it. If he shows you how much he’s willing to bleed for you, maybe you’ll finally be willing to read his words and allow him to see you again…

There’s now a cramp in his hand from where he’s paused himself, and yet he strangely relishes in the onslaught of dull pain being given to him by his hand and head.

Maybe it’s a sign from the gods that he should stop himself? For he betrayed both the maiden and the mother when he laid with that fucking witch from Harrenhal, and it feels as if he should be praying nightly to the father for him to be brought to justice for you.

However now, with the considerable amount of time that he is being forced to spend away from you and your arms, he feels as though he should pray to the Stranger, late at night, when the moon is high and full. He should pray to him to slice his head from his shoulders and place him away from his misery forever more.

Though with his Targaryen heritage, there is no doubt that they have been waiting for an opportunity like this to pluck him and his family from their very roots for their many sins…

It has been a few months since you, ‘let Aegon in’, as he’d so put it. Though if you were to be honest with yourself, you’ve never felt as calm of character, as you were when you were with Aegon.

Still, you must admit, that whenever his head of short and unkempt silver hair is laid in your lap, facing away from you, your mind begins to wander of other things. You end up always thinking of his hair being twice as long, and his body being twice as lean.

You concluded that the gods must be punishing you for your sins. For practically abandoning your husband for a man of his own blood and partaking in pleasures of the flesh with him. But if this was how the gods had decided to punish you, how were they punishing Aemond…

“It is alright my love, we do not need to do it again until you are willing.” Aegon had said whilst stroking the bare skin of your arm with a distinguishable fondness.

You hadn’t the strength to tell him that the reason why you could not bring yourself to lay with him again is because the memory of Aemond still lives on in you forever. The ones that used to make you smile in fondness, but now make you wish to tear out his other eye with your bare hands and have his blood drip from your fingernails.

Aemonds memory that constantly lies within you is now a plague. A plague of constant mourning and sadness. A plague that is never ending and never relenting.

The memory of him still lives on months later, where for the first time ever, you leave your room dressed properly and looking like a true lady of the court. Aegon stands by your side in what you believe in his eyes is for your protection. But why would you need protection when your heart has been broken and stitched back together carelessly two times already?

Though as Aegons tries to murmur what your sure is meant to be encouraging murmurs of affection in your ear, your ears prick up to the sound of a familiar sound of footsteps, and you look up and connect eyes with your husband.

Your feet stop where they stand, and Aegons hands clench firmly against your own as he continues murmuring some kind of unknown gibberish in your ear. But you ignore him and look only at your husband. Who in turn, stares only at Aegons hands that are intwined in your own. You can see even from where you are standing, the way his brows furrow in annoyance at the sight, and somehow, you can feel your heart break for the third time in your lifetime as Aemond swiftly walks away without sparing you another glance.

You’re here. You’re walking close as can be with his brother and you’re standing in front of him looking at him with shocked doe like eyes.

The anger that blooms in his chest is nothing like the anger he felt when he killed Luke. It’s nothing similar to the anger he felt when he faced the injustice of his father when he was robbed of his eye. This is a new type of anger. It’s an obsession. A new type of injustice that only the feeling of blood on his skin could possibly have the power to diminish. But not your blood. Never your blood. No. Aemond craves Aegons blood on his blade.

He doesn’t even realise that he walked away from you until he looks around and realises he’s in his chambers, and his eye stares at the half written letter that still pathetically lays on his desk. An old pot of ink and a ruffled quill still waiting for him to pick up again.

His rage that still boils like a dragons fire within him feels no bounds as he tempts himself into ripping the letter. Into grabbing his dagger tucked away in his belt and stalking his way through the passages to Aegons chambers, where he’d wait till the sun goes down to strike him when he least expects it, and grin as Aegons chokes on his blood with fear and betrayal in his eyes. Watching with glee as Aegon dies for his crime. Trying to take what rightfully belongs to him.

But then, Aemond properly begins to think. You seemed to be close to be brother, if the closeness Aegon held you and the way he so closely whispered into your ears meant anything. If he killed his brother, it would only mean that he killed another one of the people you cared about. And Aemond refused to give you another reason for you to be scornful of him.

Aemond gives in though and rips the letter on the desk, and with a huff begins a new one. His anger and his frustration clear in his writing and with how many times the quill almost goes through the page with how fiercely and carelessly he uses it. He imagines your happiness though as he writes. The way you used to smile at him with such unique brightness. The way your cheeks would flush a beautiful light pink when he teased you. He even dared to think and reminisce on the way your face would shift into one of pure pleasure when he’d sit before the heaven that lay between your thighs, and lick and suck till he felt you spill no less than three times on his tongue.

The last thought soured though as he imaged Aegon seeing you like that. Seeing your smile, your happiness, your pleasure. The grip on his quill so strong he felt it snap between his fingers. A sharp shard of it bringing a small drop of blood to drop and pool on the page bellow. Yet Aemond didn’t choose to begin a new letter clear of his blood. He allowed it to stay there and continue with the same paper, so he could show his devotion to you. So he could show his willingness to bleed for you. Show how much he values his vow to shed as much blood as he needed to in order to achieve your forgiveness. It was truly an addictive thought, seeing you again. And one he could never stop running through his head when he thought of the future.

Aemond finished the letter, writing on the paper front and back with no less than three separate pages before he deemed his rant to be over. Blood pooling on various areas on all of them. His fingers now cramping around the new quill that he’d grabbed with each flex of his hand, and the ache that has sadly dulled around the cut to Aemonds relief remains pungent. If he could, he would pray to all Seven Gods for the wound to never heal. So you could see his devotion to you. To witness the death of his sanity in front of your very eyes.

There are no guards outside the front of your chambers. A fact Aemond cannot help but be disgusted by when he sees it as he walks to the familiar doors. Later that night he’ll find those two men tasked with the purpose of keeping you safe, and he’ll make sure to strip them of whatever dignity and honour they believed to possess. Perhaps the comfort of the wall would suit them nicely? Or the kiss of his blade?

Aemond raises his fist to knock at the door, but voices keep him from doing so. Specific voices. Yours and Aegons voices…

Before he knows it, Aemond is pushing himself against the wood as much as he can so he can hear every beautiful syllable of your voice. He does not care at first for the meanings behind them, but he certainly begins to when he realises what he is listening too are some very familiar high pitched sounds. Breathless sounds that Aemond had told you on yours and his wedding night that only he would hear.

While Aemond waits outside your door, he can hear your voices of pleasure radiating from the other side.

His fists are clenched no more to knock, but instead in anger. And the dulled throb of the small cut earlier on his hand flares up again as it reopened from his carelessness. Yet instead of moving to stem the blood, Aemond grows an idea deep from within him. Aemond snatches his dagger from his belt, and with no hesitation, quickly slices a deep mark on his inner palm.

His posture and frame is deathly still while the blood begins to heavily pool and drip onto the ground, only moving to place his hand firmly against the wooden door, watching it drip down the dark wood and trail to the stone flooring.

He can see the large puddle flow under your door, and Aemond wishes nothing more at that moment for you to see it. To see him. To see his devotion. His love. His sacrifice for you. If he hadn’t already lost it, Aemond would’ve torn out his eye and shoved it under the door too as a gift for you to make you stop your torturing of his soul.

Aemond only steps away when the blood pool reaches his shoes, and even then it’s with great resistance from himself as he stuffs the still bleeding wound against his dark coat that already begins to rapidly absorb the blood. He can even feel it soak his undershirt and his skin.

He goes straight to his chambers that night instead of paying a visit to the maesters. He does the same the next night, and the one after that.

Instead, Aemond relishes in the look he receives from Aegon the next morning. The look of utter horror and fear that speaks at least over a thousand words. The look that tells him you now finally know of his gift and his devotion to you. The look that tells him he is one step closer to you again.

Aemond Targaryen refuses to rest until he is drained entirely of his blood and it is pooled directly at your feet. He refuses to rest until his heart is laid bare in his hands and is presented to you like a septa presents the gods with their offerings. Until his name can be uttered from your precious lips without your own heart breaking from sorrow.

Aemond Targaryens heart could break a thousand times over, each time bloodier than the next, but he refuses to allow yours to break again. Not by his hand at least…