#THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE THAN I THOUGHT HER RETURN WOULD BE. I THOUGHT SHE'D JUST BE SUPER FUCKED UP AGAIN BUT OH MY GOD

[albedov]

this got a bit longer than i anticipated- requested by @velixxis ^^ part 1 here

you were embarrassed to say the least. when you sent those messages you didn't exactly know what would happen but you knew it felt nice to finally get all those feelings out. but you hadn't thought it out further, hadn't anticipated that by some stroke of bad luck someone saw those messages.

true to feixiaos's word, she tracked you down not too long after she parted with jiaoqiu. you knew from the very moment that she started talking about “you and jiaoqiu” that somehow she saw those messages. and at that very moment you wished for one of lan's arrows to strike you down then and there.

and even at your very evident embarrassment that she had seen the messages and now was aware of your crush, feixiao continued talking to you about him. and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse she posed the question -

“so how are you going to confess? and i mean for real this time”

feixiao “assured” you that he wasn't aware of the messages but it was clear that she was very invested into becoming you and jiaoqiu's matchmaker.

you tried getting across to her that those messages were just to get your feelings out, that it was easier to move on from your crush because you always thought that it wouldn't go anywhere - the reason why you'd never confessed before.

but feixiao knew differently, although she found it more amusing (for her at least) if she didn't inform you of what she'd heard from jiaoqiu. so she had absolute confidence when she proudly told you to meet her somewhere the next day.

you had no idea why, but you obliged - perhaps some part of you knew what she was doing and so maybe the part of you that still longed for him forced you to go. and so you waited for her.

even when you saw feixiao in the distance walking towards you, a familiar pink haired foxian beside her, even when dread and nerves consumed your senses, you stayed. even when she proudly announced their arrival and prompted you to greet jiaoqiu, you complied.

you didn't know where this confidence had come from considering this had all happened because of your cowardice to confess through messages, ones that you knew the recipient wouldn't ever see. but it quickly wavered when jiaoqiu said your name at the sound of your voice.

feixiao hadn't told him where she was taking him. but he could recognise your voice anywhere, a sweet melody that he missed dearly. jiaoqiu hadn't seen you much after returning to the yaoqing and it pained him, so hearing your voice again was a silent relief for him.

the air soon hung with silence and feixiao held up jiaoqiu's phone, opened up on your messages, and silently prompted you to confess. your nerves were still eating away at you but your confidence slowly crept back - you also knew feixiao was very insistent on you doing this.

and eventually you poured out every heartfelt confession and feeling that you had kept bottled up. it felt so nice to finally, properly, get everything off your chest that you forgot jiaoqiu was actually before you and when you did realize, you froze up.

what if he rejected you? oh you were so embarrassed… you should've never let feixiao get you into this mess-

“me too”

you heard the gentle tone in his voice, the kind he always used when it was just the two of you, a moment of pure affection and care.

“i love you”

[kraviolis]

THEY FUCKING WINTER SOLDIER'D CLEO. THEY BRAINWASHED AND TORTURED HER SO MUCH SHE'S A SHELL OF WHO SHE WAS AND NOW THEY'RE GONNA SEND HER TO ASSASSINATE POLITICAL FIGURES

[yamujiburo]

Here's an arc I thought about doing but won't do because, it'd be a bit too sad and also it's too similar to the Turing Point Arc I already did and also it would be long. But I'll write it here for you angst enjoyers. This ended up being longer than I thought.

Despite getting the "okay" from Ash to date Jessie, Delia still worries that she's not doing the right thing or being a bad mom. Up until now she'd convinced herself that she had the right to be selfish for once after knowing only sacrifice and putting herself last.

Jessie and Ash, while not as antagonistic towards each other, still go at it. A Pikachu zap here, an angry "twerp" being uttered there. The guilt settles in for Delia and figures that it's best to just cut things off before things potentially get worse or before she gets too attached to Jessie. Her son comes first after all. That's what she signed up for when becoming a parent.

She sits Jessie down, eyes watery (it's the first time Jessie's ever seen Delia come close to crying). Delia says she thinks they should end things. Jessie is stunned but accepts it quickly. She sucks it up in the moment, puts a resigned smile on her face and tells Delia she'll leave immediately and not to worry about her. Delia's also broken up about it but promised herself she'd never cry over a goodbye and she wasn't gonna start now.

Jessie goes to James and Meowth's place greeted similarly to this, lightly teasing her about blowing it with Delia, and she breaks down sobbing. Oops it's real this time. James and Meowth do everything in their power to make her feel better. They let her know that things like this happen and they're ready to go wherever she wants to go (knowing that it'd likely be to painful for her to stay in Pallet). As much as she wants to leave, she doesn't want James and Meowth to lose the good thing they have going. She's not in the right headspace to make any decisions so she'll get to it later.

Ash returns home after doing a little training at Oak's lab. He notices Jessie's not around and asks his mom where she is. Delia is about to tell him but can't quite bring herself to say the truth out loud yet. She simply says "I don't know". Ash looks disappointed. "Aw man, I wanted to see if she wanted to battle. She makes a good battle buddy for all of my newer, baby Pokémon." Delia perks up that this. As quickly as he came, he leaves again to go train his Pokémon.

Later, Delia approaches Ash, asking him if he really meant that what he said about Jessie being a good battle partner. He gives her an enthusiastic "yeah!" and tells her that it's been nice having another battle ready trainer around since there's not many in Pallet. Delia starts to pry a little more. "I thought you and Jessie didn't get along?" Ash is confused, and tells Delia they get along great! "Jessie doesn't steal anymore! And she's getting better at battling which is cool." Delia brings up that she's head them argue before. "Oh... well I guess that's just how we are. I'd be weirded out if she was suddenly too nice to me all the time. Jessie's actually a lot like Misty. But taller!" This gives Delia a lot to think about but what's done is done and it's no use pressing on. It's easier this way.

The next morning Delia's getting ready for work. She must not have noticed that she was acting weird but Ash picks up on it. "What's wrong mom?" Delia's shocked he noticed (he's not usually this perceptive). She tells him it's nothing and that she just slept bad. "Hm. But Jessie says that when you're upset you get really quiet and intense." Delia notices that she was pretty intensely mixing the pancake batter. "Jessie told you that?" Ash nods. "Hey speaking of, where is Jessie? Haven't seen her since yesterday." Delia stops mixing and tells Ash that she and Jessie aren't together anymore. Ash is confused and upset at the idea of Jessie doing something that would hurt his mom enough for them to break up. Delia lets him know that Jessie didn't do anything like that and that them breaking up was just for the best. But Ash questions this, pointing out that he's never seen Delia as happy as she was when Jessie was there and also how Delia looks really sad now. Delia can't argue with that but then tells him that it's complicated. Ash, to Delia's surprise, looks a bit disappointed. He's bummed he wasn't able to say goodbye first and asks if she thinks Jessie would still be willing to come by and train with him sometimes. Delia asks him once more if he was really okay with her and Jessie dating. "Yeah I thought I said that already? Jessie's pretty cool when she's not being evil. And she really likes Pokémon which is a plus!" Such simple criteria. Delia's now worried that she might've made a mistake. She finishes making breakfast and heads to work.

At the restaurant she's met by James. She can feel an awkwardness hanging in the air. She knows that James knows. Before she can say anything James tells Delia thank you for employing him and helping him, Meowth and Jessie get back on their feet but that he's going to quit working at the restaurant and that they'll likely be leaving Pallet soon. Delia's heart sinks. There's now a ticking clock and she has to decide what she wants to do SOON. She asks James where Jessie is. James hesitantly tells her that she's at his and Meowth's place. Delia pleads with James to work the restaurant for one more day at least and to cover this shift. She has to go talk to Jessie. He agrees, hoping that this is a good thing.

Delia runs to James and Meowth's place. She knocks on the door upon arrival and waits. It takes a moment but she hears the door unlock. Jessie opens the door, disheveled, tears and snot all over her face, draped in a blanket. Jessie notices it's Delia and, frightened, slams the door. Delia's stunned for a moment and goes to knock on the door again but before she can the door opens. This time Jessie's tears are gone, her hair's fixed and she ditched the blanket. "Oh hey, Delia! What brings you here?" Delia can't help but be charmed. But this is serious. She shakes it off and asks if they could talk. Jessie invites her in. They get to the couch and Jessie starts frantically cleaning up all the crumpled tissues and dirty dishes off the ground. "Heh I caught a cold yesterday. A one day cold. I'm fine now." Delia doesn't call out the obvious lie and gets straight to the point.

She tells Jessie that she's worried she made a mistake. She made a panicked decision that she was hoping would protect Ash and her future self. But now realizes that she was afraid of the idea that she'd made a selfish decision by dating her. It was a selfish decision but that didn't mean it was a bad one. She was the happiest she'd been, Jessie and Ash were learning to get along and were getting along much better than she'd though. She acknowledges that Jessie has been there for Ash in a way that she can't quite be and is also grateful to her for managing to keep Ash home a little longer. She asks if Jessie would be willing to take her back (despite the distress she caused). Jessie starts sobbing with happy tears. She tearfully says she'll try even harder to get along with Ash and be a better person. Delia reassures her that she's doing just fine.

They kiss passionately but then realize it's weird that they're making out in James in Meowth's place and say they'll continue later. Delia tells Jessie to head back home and that Ash is looking forward to battling with her (and she also needs to let James and Meowth not to quit their jobs).

The end~

[the-monstermash]

UNBROKEN BETROTHALS

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken

Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, 18+, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language

Word Count: 2,187

> **A/N:** AHHHHHH this is my first character fic, and only the second one I've ever been brave enough to post! I also had to post this on mobile because my browser was being wild so sorry for any formatting issues!

The sound of senseless fucking had never seemed to bother you. Easy to filter out, truthfully, and not as traveling as one would think it to be. No, there are many things worse, like for instance the smell. One never takes into account the smell of sex, much less the smell of alcohol fueled, desperate, old haggard men driving the last of their life-force into some disinterested cunny eager to make a coin. Eager to spend a coin, as well.

That's where you came in. Whores work up quite an appetite, one you are all too happy to satisfy, no pun intended. You'd been with Sylvi for years, after you'd run from your family in the dead of night, afraid of the life they'd planned for you.

"Everybody must eat," Sylvi sighed the night she met you, disinterested. "If you will not fuck, you will feed. We earn our keep around these parts, you'll do well to learn quickly."

That was the start of a very standoffish, albeit maternal, relationship. Sylvi had never truly cared for your company, but she cared for you, and that was more than many could say, and more than you could say of any kin. She had taken you in, given you shelter among her girls, and had asked very little of you, knowing your past. She'd seen you into young womanhood, and taught you all you wished to know about life. She was not coddling, nor cruel. She was just what you needed, and it seemed many shared the sentiment.

You were in a daydream as you went about your nightly tasks. The brothel would be closing in a few hours, the girls would need food, and you had really set into it, working quick and messily, spinning and turning about in an attempt to do too many things at once.

Just as you'd turned from the broth and made way to the oven, a wall had manifested itself and blocked your passage. No, not really a wall. Moreso a tree, in it's slender and sharp way. The branches had reached out to hold you, wrapping around your waist and breaking you from your reverie. Suddenly before you was a bare chest, pale in color and smooth like silk. He was taught with muscle, cut like marble. The kind of statue kings pay fortunes for, just to place in their hallway and walk past every morning.

"Sir, no one is meant in the kitchens." You had spoken before you'd had the chance to understand what you were saying, turning from him and back towards your oven to retrieve the loaves. "You'll need to return back to the brothel, Sylvi will not have men in her kitchen."

"'Twas Sylvi that sent me. I've come for wine." The voice was quiet, but in a way that made the ears strain to hear him, instead of drown him out.

Wine? Why would he not stop at the many*tables he'd have to pass to get here?You'd thought. This man must have ill intentions.

Slowly grabbing your bread knife, you turned your head to the side to face the intruder.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

"My Prince! " The sound of metal rang through the room as you dropped the blade unto the table to turn fully towards him. "My sincerest apologies, my prince! Please forgive me, I had no idea!" You did your best curtsy, and prayed to the Seven that he wouldn't find me impertinent, and would be in a forgiving mood. What you'd just done could be viewed as treason, an attempt on the prince's life.

In the state he was in, which you had noticed, you surmised he just might be in a forgiving mood. He was nude from head to toe, his brow beaded from heat and, hopefully, exertion. The hook of his nose looked sharper as his purple eye followed it to look down at you. He was beautiful, almost overly so. It could only have been Prince Aemond, the eye patch gave him away, even though you'd never seen him before, you'd be a fool not to know the stories of the one-eyed prince. And you'd known him to be a rather fond client of Sylvi's, as she boasted often to the other girls at dinner.

His presence there in your safe haven was unnerving, and once again the sounds of debauchery were drowned out, but now it was as if he'd sucked the noise from the room. He was too tall for the room, it was not made for him. What would a kitchen made for a God even look like? The very notion to build such a thing seemed almost blasphemous to you. He was looking at you like you didn't even exist, almost through you. His stare was too deep for that of a stranger, but perhaps he had to look so intensely because his lack of an eye.

He finally cleared his throat, as if it would've pained him to repeat himself.

"The wine, yes. We are a humble establishment, so you will have to be forgiving with our selection. I'll have our best sent to you at once!" And with that, he let out a low hum and left you to your duties.

You'd quickly managed a carafe and two goblets, and sent it through with a boy, with strict instructions to deliver it to the prince. You'd have delivered it yourself, but as you did not know where he was, and did not have the time searching the brothel for him, you'd relented to send it through a lord's boy, and hope he was competent enough to manage it.

As the sounds died out from the front of the house, you'd began shuffling out with bowls of broth and loaves for the girl. They took it gratefully, each dropping two coins in your hands and sitting to eat, sharing small talk and whatever gossip they had learned from their clients.

"Ser Lannister had quite a bit to share tonight. He speaks of war. Do you know what war means?" Lauryn spoke excitedly.

"Rapers." Another girl, Cate called from farther away, monotone. "Foreign men coming into the city in siege, taking over the villages."

"It means more clients, Cate." Sylvi's voice quickly silenced the small talk, as she walked to the table and sat, ready to be served her complimentary meal. Her place at the table, as always, was already set, and she reached for her wine immediately. "War means the king calls for more men. They leave their wives, and with no one to warm their bed, they come to us."

"Precisely." Lauryn agreed readily. "If war comes, I welcome it. I don't give a shit who sits the throne, as long as the crown prospers enough to put gold in my pocket." She lifted her goblet, a smirk on her face at her own clever musing.

"I'll drink to that." Another girl called from the back, which caused an rupture of quiet laughter through the room.

As you passed to fill an empty cup, Sylvi grabbed you arm, and pulled you in close enough to whisper.

"I require a moment with you." At your confirming nod, she raised from her seat and left to her room. You were quick to follow, leaving the carafe with the girls, who took it readily and saluted your departure.

Once in her lavish rooms, Sylvi sat at her vanity and peered at you through the mirror, an air of drama filled the room and caused you to rock on your toes in an attempt to soothe yourself.

"I see you've met the Prince."

Oh. You'd thought surely this would be a serious conversation, but as you had spoken so few words to the man, you could not see how possibly she could have taken issue with your conversation. Unless the prince had told her about your grabbing the knife, in which you were in deep shit.

"Yes, ma'am." You sat in an armchair and folded your hands in your lap. "He came to ask for wine, and I had some sent with a squire, I believe."

"He seemed to take a liking to you." She brushed off your words just as she now did her hair, her lips pressed into a tight line that betrayed her nonchalant tone. "He asked for you, the next time he graced us with his patronage."

Your throat tightened and your stomach lurched. This can't be. Your conversations were short, and you had nearly insulted him, and then only half obeyed his order by sending someone in your stead with the wine. Perhaps he hoped for a moment alone so he could punish you for your insolence. Perhaps he was just playing at a joke, and Sylvi had taken it for more than he had meant it. Though he did not seem to you a joking type, and Sylvi seemed sure in her words.

Would she sell you to the prince? It hardly seemed as though you would be in a position to refuse, should he insist on a private meeting with you. But perhaps Sylvi had a sway with the prince that others did not.

"I...don't understand, ma'am. I do not-"

"Of course, I told him you were not that type of girl." She reassured. "He listens to me, you know. I'm one of the only he bears his heart to." Her voice took on a dreamier tone. "I'm the only woman he's known."

"I had no idea." I spoke distantly, still reeling at the idea of being asked for personally, and by a man of such high standing.

"What did you say to him? When he came to the kitchens. I sent him for wine, and he comes back without wine, and with a sudden interest in you" She turns around now, her eyes appraising and scrutinizing.

"I did not say anything, ma'am. I had mistaken him for a mere lord at first, I told him to leave. And then he ordered the wine, and I told him it would be done! I promise, there was nothing untoward, and no advances."

You spoke at a mile a minute to plead your case. It was clear this woman had an attachment to the prince, and you would not give the impression that you were there to threaten it. Sylvi was a kind woman, but a burn so scalding might just scorch her heart enough to cast you out.

"I swear it to you, ma'am. I've no interest in the prince, and he none in me. If anything, he only wishes to punish me privately for the way I behaved before I knew he was the prince." She nodded at your words.

"Nonetheless, I let him know you were not available. He did not take the refusal well, but such is his way. Dragons are not used to the word 'no'." She readjusted and smiled at you. "It's nothing to worry at, my dear. Just go about your duties, and do not speak to the prince again. He'll forget you in time." You nodded and stood to leave.

"Thank you. You've done such a kindness for me, and I owe you my life. I would never make such a slight against you, please know that." Her dismissing nod and small tired smile was enough for you to turn and take your leave.

The women had filled their bellies of wine and broth, and some began to make way to their beds, others staying around to gossip. You approached the lingering girls, grabbing a loaf from the table and sitting on a chair to eat.

"So, will you?" Lauryn, who still remained, asked you, as if the incomplete question was all you needed to know. When you only responded with a questioning look, she rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Will you fuck him? Everyone here heard the prince and Sylvi's clash. He wanted you. He begged for you!" The other girls began giggling and wiggling their eyebrows at you. "It drove her mad! He doesn't want her anymore."

"Not wanting Sylvi is one thing, but wanting you is another." Another girl, Maria, a Dornish delicacy, played with her hair as she spoke with a natural coolness. "If you don't want to, of course you shouldn't, but you should consider it. A prince would pay handsomely, perhaps even enough for you to move on."

"I would not do that to Sylvi, I would not do it at all. I wouldn't even know how, I'm not versed in the...fetishes of men."

"She told him such, but he would not hear it. He asked for an exception to be made, perhaps a private arrangement. If anything, it seemed to appeal to him more, knowing you were still untouched." Lauryn jumped back in, eager to return back to her teasing.

"I would only lay with a man I chose. I did not have the option before I left home, but I do now, and I will choose myself who I bed." And with that, you stood to leave, retiring to your room for the night.

[zae-heeyyy]

Recalcitrance

Summary: You and Ms. Grimshaw just can't get along. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,763 Tags: fluff, kissing, high honor Arthur Warnings: camp violence, angry Arthur, suggestive themes

a/n: I have mixed feelings about Grimshaw. I think she's a very enigmatic character. Still, based on interactions I've seen with her, I feel this isn't too far off. These always end up super long for some reason. Idk how that keeps happening. Anyway, I hope you enjoy; thanks for reading!

recalcitrance: resistance to authority or guidance, often characterized by defiance or disobedience. It implies a refusal to comply with rules or expectations, despite attempts to persuade or control.

You and Abigail Roberts went way, way back. Working girls stuck to a code; part of that code was looking out for each other and ensuring you returned after one of your "shifts." Abigail ran away for a while, leaving you to assume she'd met a rich man and settled down.

When you met her again, she introduced you to Dutch Van Der Linde and company; you fell in with them shortly after. Since then, you constantly scrubbed blood from clothes, slept on the ground, and ate whatever game Pearson could find for the stew. Many girls you knew would never trade that life for this one, but you had a family to return to, even if they weren't the most conventional. And amidst it all, you'd found something you didn't think possible for you. 

You were drawn to Arthur Morgan instantly. The little things spoke volumes for you—how he checked on you in passing, the moments spent playing dominos together, and his overall politeness towards you. The bar was in hell, but he treated you so differently than any man ever had. Arthur's dumb cowboy act didn't fool you for a second, and you were captivated by him.

After one too many inadvertent shoulder grazes and incidental hand touches, the chemistry between you had become undeniable. Following a game of dominos he let you win, the stocky man asked you to take a walk with him. You weren't too far away from camp before you found yourself pressed against a tree by him in a heated kiss. So many thoughts swirled around your head. You were in the middle of nowhere; it was pitch black, and you were being hunted by the law, yet there against that tree was the safest you'd felt in a long time. 

Then, on another fateful night, you were alone with him at the campfire while everybody else had settled down. A sly smirk crossed his face, and he scooted closer to you, grabbing and kissing your hand. You giggled, maintaining eye contact as he kissed up your arm, gradually, a low groan escaping him. One thing led to another, and he guided you into his tent. You let him have you, and you, him. 

It was then, when you were on the brink of your climax, half-lidded eyes staring upward into his, that you finally understood what people meant by lovemaking. When it was all over, you got up to leave out of habit, but he drew you back into his arms and asked you to stay.

Since then, you've been his girl, and he made sure everybody knew, always kissing you before he left for a job, settling you into his lap at the poker table, or sneaking you away from your chores to spend time with him. You saw each other for what you were, not the labels that had been applied to you. And you loved him so much.

For the first time in a long time, your life was good. Well, mostly, except you hadn't quite mastered the life of navigating Ms. Grimshaw. Over the almost year you'd known her, she was rarely nice to you. She seemed more tame when Arthur was around, but he wasn't today.

By noon, you had gotten sick of hearing her voice, and she seemed more ornery than usual. The nagging was constant: do this, don't do that, do this faster, do this slower. You wished she'd shut the hell up and leave you alone. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you saw her speed-walking towards you.

You were sitting, about to light a cigarette, when she approached, red-faced, huffing, and talking fast, "There you are," she started, putting a finger in your face. "Sitting around like always. I have had it with you!" You stood quickly out of instinct and opened your mouth to speak, but she cut you off. "You're useless around here, so why don't you go into town and start selling yourself again. At least then you'd finally be carrying your weight!" 

Her words stung like branding, making your heart race and your eyes sting. The few people left at camp had gone quiet. Mary-Beth looked on nervously while Karen was glaring at the older woman. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you spoke faster than your brain could process.

"All you're good for is being an ugly, hateful bitch." As soon as the words left your mouth, she swung on you. It was a backhanded slap that stung and broke the barrier that was holding back your tears. You recoiled, holding your stinging face.

"Know your place, girl, before you end up somewhere worse than on your back. Now get!" She pointed towards the edge of camp.

"Screw you," you said, quickly wiping away a falling tear, "I'd rather fuck every man in town before I keep letting myself be treated like this." You stepped up to her, " Want me to leave? Well, I'm goin."

And you did. You collected what little belongings you had into a bag and charged out of camp, eyes forward and your head held high. Tilly and Mary-Beth tried to stop you, but you marched down the dirt path until they couldn't see you anymore.

"Look what you gone and did you old hag," Karen spat, "Oh, just wait til Mr. Morgan gets back. Bet you won't be so high and mighty then." 

Arthur didn't ride in until sunset; he searched for you before even getting off his horse. His face fell confused by your absence, and just as he was about to inquire, Mary-Beth and Tilly approached. He knew instantly that something was wrong.

"What, what is it?" His eyes searched theirs. They looked at each other, silently debating who'd break the news to him. It was Tilly who stepped forward, putting a calming hand on Arthur's arm. She talked low and cautious, "Arthur, she—her and Ms. Grimshaw—they—" She was cut off by Karen and Ms. Grimshaw beelining towards them.

Karen's voice boomed, speech slurred. "Go ahead, tell 'em." She waved her beer-clutching hand between Arthur and Ms. Grimshaw, defiantly meeting Susan's gaze before tearing her eyes away to meet Arthur's. "That wench Grimshaw smacked her across the face and ran her out!"

Clenching his fist involuntarily, he leaned into Karen, talking low and steady. "The hell are you talking 'bout?" His chest was rising and falling quickly now.

Ms. Grimshaw stood resolute and waved him off. "This doesn't concern you, Mr. Morgan. This is my camp, and these are my girls and my rules," she finished, arms crossed, staring at Arthur.

Stepping close, he imposed his broad figure on Ms. Grimshaw, flashing a smile that was anything but inviting. He took on a tone he rarely used with the women.

"Oh, Susan, that's where me and you disagree. This may very well be your camp, and you can make up all the rules you want, but she's my girl." His face had straightened into a scowl by the time he finished.

"Well, I'll—" she began incredulously, hands still on her hips, but Arthur threw up a halting finger.

"Look, Ms. Grimshaw, I respect how you run this camp, but that girl, she's off limits. Now, I'm gonna find her and bring her back, and you can raise all the hell you want, but if you lay a finger on her again—" 

"Arthur..." Tilly cut in warningly. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, ending his conversation with Susan. "Where'd she go?" he asked no one and everyone at the same time, speed walking to his horse.

"She took off down the road," Mary-Beth called out, but his horse was already kicking up dirt. Riding as fast as he could, he reached the nearest town at record speed. He hitched the horse outside the train station, forcing the doors open with his shoulder. The place went quiet, everybody focusing on the sudden disturbance. Arthur ignored the looks he was getting, scanning faces for yours. Spotting you took no time, and you stood as soon as you recognized him. He rushed to you, taking your hands in his; concern riddled his face— a rare sight. Guilt washed over you as you looked up into his eyes; you opened your mouth to speak, but he started before you.

"You alright?" he asked, looking you up and down. Dirt had stained the hem of your skirt, and your eyes were tired; his frown grew as he looked you over. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your head to his chest and nodding.

"Wasn't gonna go, just needed to get away for a while," you murmured into his chest. Rubbing your back soothingly, he exhaled with soft, relieved laughter. One arm still around you, he gently tilted your head to meet his gaze with his free one.

"Don't you go walking out on us. Least without tellin' me first."

You agreed with a quick bob of your head, and he pulled your chin in towards his, kissing you on the mouth. He withdrew and gestured to the bench you'd risen from earlier; you both sat. Arthur wrapped a big arm around you, and you buried your face into his shoulder.

"That woman hates me," you grumbled with a pout. Arthur squeezed you closer, and a faint grin formed on his lips.

"Nah, she never liked any girl I brought around. Give her more time." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "It's all outta love, I think," he concluded. You huffed at that, disbelieving.

"She got a funny way of showing it."

"Sure," he chuckled again. He sat for another minute before gently nudging you off his shoulder. Grabbing your bag and standing, he asked, "So you gonna come back with me?"

You tried to sulk but couldn't when he was standing there waiting patiently with his hand out. You finally relented. 

"Fine, but I ain't just gonna take it next time," you declared, taking his hand. A big smile stretched across his face. 

"You ain't gotta do nothing you don't wanna. If any of those fools have a problem with it, send 'em to me." You made your way out of the train station, hand in hand. You paused, gazing at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"I can handle myself just fine, Arthur Morgan." Another chuckle built up in him as he threw your bag on the horse. He turned to kiss the top of your head before grabbing you by the waist and lifting you up on the horse.

"I know, darlin'."

[woso-dreamzzz]

End of the World VI

Ruesha Littlejohn x Child!Reader

Summary: Your accidents

At first, when Rue heard that you had started to get accidents, she blamed Katie.

It was happening at Katie's house. It was Katie's problem so it must have been Katie's fault.

She didn't think it would be a problem at her house but, as she sits with you on her chest in the middle of the night, she finds out she was wrong.

It wasn't a Katie problem and it wasn't just happening at Katie's house.

You'd just rather sleep in your wet bed than tell Rue and bother her in the night when she's meant to be sleeping.

Clearly, this bed-wetting is worse than Rue thought and she feels absolutely terrible about sweeping away Katie's concerns. She was so unbothered after deciding it was Katie's problem that she hadn't even considered it was happening at hers too.

"Katie," Rue says the next morning after you're clipped into Katie's car and the door is shut," What make is your baby monitor?"

Katie frowns. "Why?"

"Because I want to get one too, obviously."

Katie keeps frowning but she still replies," I'll send you the link."

Rue orders it as soon as Katie texts her. It takes her a while to set it up (she's a big believer in institutions being unneeded and threw them away before she'd even plugged the monitor in) but once it's done, she's sure that it'll come in handy.

It's what Katie uses to catch when you've had an accident and if Katie can work out how to use it then Rue can too.

You're returned to her the next week and Rue catches an accident every night like clockwork. Sometimes more than once and she can't believe that she missed it if it was happening this often.

It's not a little slip either.

It's a big step backwards to the point that she's started putting you in pull ups whenever you go to bed and whenever you go out after one time too many times when you forgot to tell her that you needed the toilet while at training.

It was humiliating for you.

Everything was humiliating. The pull ups. The accidents. The vicious back and forth between your mothers.

They don't speak bad about each other when you're around. Or, at least, they don't speak bad about each other when they know you're around.

Sometimes, when you're meant to be in bed, you sneak out and listen to your mothers complain about each other.

You don't know why Ma and Mammy don't like each other anymore. They used to love each other. They used to love each other enough to have you.

Now they can barely stand to look at each other and they're both breaking the most sacred rule.

If you don't have anything nice to say then don't say anything at all.

It bubbles up inside you, keeping what Ma says about Mammy a secret and keeping what Mammy says about Ma a secret too.

It swirls and stews somewhere deep in your belly until it all comes out one evening at Mammy's house after an uncharacteristic third accident of the night.

It bubbles out until you're sobbing about everything, stemming back all the way from that rainy evening when Ma tried to take you away with her the night she and Mammy broke up officially.

It bubbles out and you scream and cry in just your pull up and a sleep shirt.

It bubbles out and you scream and cry until Katie and Rue are in the same room together for the first time in a while.

You're at the park with Caitlin, taken away from this inevitable mess.

"It's both of our faults," Rue suddenly admits, very much against her will," Her bed wetting. We're not nice to each other and it doesn't work well with her nervous disposition."

"I agree," Katie says. She glances out the window, unwilling to look at her ex.

"So we agree, yes?"

"Yes."

"So...What do we do about this?"

Katie sighs, still unwilling to look. Rue's not looking at her either so at least it's mutual. "I guess we stop slagging each other off to other people."

Rue sighs too. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Do we take her to the doctor?"

"If she's keep wetting by the end of the month then, yeah, I think so."

Katie nods. "So, we're putting whatever this rivalry is aside to her?"

Rue huffs with a roll of her eyes. "Yeah, I guess so."

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.❞

[ Never piss off your wife. She might acquire a living, breathing punishment for you. Aka, Daemon made a mistake and you're his punishment ft. Rhaenyra stay winning. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 1,985 ] | Daemyra x Sugar Baby!Reader

contains— sugar mommy x sugar baby, open relationship/understandings, toxic relationship??? allusions of cheating, established realtionship - nsfw: oral, p & v sex, v & v sex, pet names mainly: darling, sweet girl, good girl, praise, male masturbation shshhs - you piss the shit outta daemon (as you should), slight angst? - sort of daemon-focused since it's in his pov, but rhae's the only one allowed to touch you lol - no targcest bc its the modern world and that would be weird.

a/n— i dont want to talk about it, okay. comment/reblog/like at will ❤️️

Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.

With your soft noises encouraged to heighten in pleasure whenever Rhaenyra had you over- and after initial test drive of the first few times, stretched in months to weeks to days - she had you over all the time, at random times of the day. Any time the boys or his girls weren't by (being taken care of in the park, Harwin or Laena's visitation rights, Rhaenys wanting to take them off for Corlys weekend fishing trips)- your mewls turned unbridled shouts of pleasure now filled the high-rise.

You permeate the space like a cigarette stain; you didn't even need to be godsdamned present anymore. It starts with your perfume- it's lighter than Rhaenyra's but heavier in sweetness. Vanille. A touch of it that he's foul to recognise. Lipstick stains on his wife's neck, her blouse, where he can imagine your lips drag and bite and suckle because the kids are too young to understand and it's not like he's not one to leave his own marks, but there's a thunderous boil that drums in his veins when he realises you're leaving your own on his wife.

You fill the nooks and crannies like a plague, and you don't even care about him.

Worse, you taunt him.

And it's not like he could say anything to Nyra.

After all, the two of them had an understanding after he got caught with a minor dalliance of his own. It was a one time thing, and he only got blown, but it was enough for a talking to. A mutual agreement that was really just him pacifying his wife.

He really should have focused on the crooks of how upset she had been, on the gleam in her eyes when he thought she had simmered down. That her fire, though not as brightly lit, was still very much burning.

"You can have any sweet thing that you want, husband, as long as you keep them away from the kids. As long as you keep it quiet and away from me. I do not want the details." Nyra's mouth had curled. He remembered. She took up the space behind him, wine-kissed as she was, her fingers dancing on his shoulders and kneading at the tough centre of the nape of his neck. His eyelids fluttered and he barely heard her next words.

"In return, you will not make a fuss when I take mine, hm?"

Daemon had laughed. He remembered that. A soft, more air than sound laugh.

He took her hand to his lips and smirked up at her. Shark-like. Baiting. Daring. "As you wish, wife. In return, you can tell me all about it."

There was a strong part of Daemon that didn't think she'd actually do it.

Rhaenyra had smiled that smile that reminded him of godswoods and Valyrian necklaces, passed down from generation after generation. A silent vow louder drew from blood.

There was a strong part of Daemon who thought his wife was jesting, making a bluff, a toss of a coin.

Until you arrived with a sweet smile and a tinkling little laugh.

Until he had found his wife with her face buried between your legs, your hands— freshly done nails and glimmering rings, new, he later found out from the bank transcripts — and your back arched, your mouth gaping in a silent scream as you come undone.

It took a minute for you to see him, so stuck in that pleasure that broke and free-fell through you several times because 'Nyra didn't want to let up, calling you her sweet girl, her darling girl, that's it, you can take more, can you? aren't you my good girl?

When your thick lashed-eyes finally met his darkened lilac gaze, lipstick still perfect red, still perfectly plump and moist, your mouth curls into a charming little smile and said, "Oh, hello there."

Rhaenyra looked up, and at the smirk on her face, your spend all around her ruined lipstick and chin— Daemon knew she wanted him to see. Wanted him to know. It's a bullet shot down his spine, straight to his cock. It's a cold thrill and grasped fingers around his throat with rings nestled to make indents.

It's a violent blend of jealousy and lust, and the cocktail emotion rages in him, swirls and punctures.

There is a bite between Rhaenyra and Daemon, a fiery edge that often saunters the edges, crosses a new line. But each time, after each rough push, they come back to one another; a tether of becoming, of pulling taunt. Once again united. They are assured in each other's positions; you can play with anyone but you always come back to me.

Rhaenyra has won this one. She had snapped, pulled, and arose victorious.

But they always come together. And often, enjoyed sharing.

What Daemon forgets sometimes is that he is a younger brother, and really, Rhaenyra was the eldest and the sole eye of her father. When righteous selfishness burns with a petty need to make her husband suffer, it heels hard.

"She is mine, husband," she whispers at the edge of his lips, riding him through a slick, sex-haze after you had left. Her thighs slap against his own, his hands harsh on the indents of her waist as she rode him with no abandon, uncaring for his pleasure this time, selfishness the game this time, but the renewed roughness brought him to the early days of their marriage. That unbridled want, a clash of teeth and skin and raw, burning lust.

There is a growl and a hiss, a moan and a gasp; blood has beaded through bitten flesh and bruises are blooming. This is fucking from the high of a third party dancing on their marriage.

And Rhaenyra's refusal of you to him made him throb.

She had seen him high-strung, plotted him to be harder than a box of rocks, already harshly yanking his tie in anticipation of having his wife and you with your fox gazes and sire song, but Rhaenyra had turned away from him, ignored him, and slapped your thigh before kissing your cheek.

"Come back next time, darling, my husband is home." It was said in a tease, a lighthearted joke between two people he was not a part of, but he knew his wife; recognised the bite. The smugness.

And by god, you were in on it as you thrilled a laugh and slid your gaze to his, undressing and fucking him with your eyes as you bit your lip. Your words are to Rhae, a hand on her cheek and a thumb rubbing at the corner of her lip, but your gaze is devouring him. He wasn't a green boy, but you seemed amused and feral for the hard-line of his manhood. As if you can picture what he would feel like buried deep inside your guts, and enjoyed it.

"Am I just going to be yours then, hm?" you asked amusedly, finally turning to her.

Nyra turned her gaze then, to him, and smirked. "You, I will not share. A fitting punishment, don't you think? Some jewels are meant for one alone."

And you had laughed, the gall of you, taking your bag (new one too,a matching one with his wife) and walking right past him. Your scent- his wife's fucking scent, the smell of her cunt on you and his dick throbbed - devoured him as you left him with a wink and a quiet, "too bad."

You had not even gone inside the elevator of their penthouse before a growl tore through his chest and he had met Rhaenyra's thundering footsteps with his own, their tongues and teeth clashing for dominance, ripping apart clothes, wanting to bury each other in the other's skin.

Now, she reaches her peak with a yell and a full body shudder, her cunt clenching and squeezing, demanding his release, and he jolts with her with a swear of his own, his cum flooding her in thick, sharp bursts.

Even then, as Rhae smiled sweetly, post-peak glow simpering her fire, sweetening her kisses against the side of his face, his neck, running a tongue over the worst of the bruises and bites— Daemon thought, surely, now that his wife had reached post-coital bliss and forgiven him, punishment had been had? That he was free to have you, to play with you?

But no. You were off limits. Hers and hers alone. A punishment that keeps on giving as the echoes of you exist in his life in patterns he was starting to fucking loath.

The scent in the bath- the echo of the warmth of someone having used it recently, someone who wasn't his wife, in the pillows of his living room, the barest smudge of makeup as if your face had been pushed against them. In the snacks and drinks that he, nor his wife, nor their children, particularly like, fill up the corners of his kitchen. The lipstick stains on his wife, the running mill in the bank statements (the new necklaces, new dresses, new fucking lingerie he hasn't seen), and when he had finally had enough, shoving through his own house to talk to his wife that the least she could do while she was fucking you was be allowed to be there, he hears it then—

Your shouts of pleasure falling into sighs into giggles, and when he slows to his marital bedroom, you are there— breathing heavily, alive, real— naked and slicked, a goddess divine, with Rhaenyra inside you in more ways than one, baring her teeth in a victorious grin before falling into a laugh at his face.

"Am I allowed to have him now, is that it?" you ask, seemingly innocent. One of the new necklaces in his statements on your neck and nothing else. Chest moving in shuddering breath having just orgasmed and yelling it.

"Your choice, sweet girl," Rhae purrs, leaning back over your form to run a finger from the valley of your breasts to your stomach to your clit that turns your shudders to an outright jolt, then a sigh, when she starts fingering you in front of him. The squelch is obscene, and Daemon is hard, and he is not a fucking boy but he is starting to hate you as much as he wants to fuck the lazy smirk on your face, pleasure so obviously building once again. Soft sighs, mewls, escaping full, raw lips.

"I kind of... want him to watch a little. Just- ah! Nyra there, please - sit still and pretty." You smirk, giving him a pouty air kiss. The urge to strangle you sings in his blood. Hold you down and fuck you until you're better pliant, sweeter, fucking cooing for him. Fuck the spoil Rhaenyra has ingrained in you away.

You turn to the silver-haired woman on top of you, now on her haunches, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. She held his gaze as she pressed her tongue flat against before taking a glorious, heavy-gazed lick.

Daemon swallows.

"Is that- ahhh, okay? Nyra, hmm? Please?" You sigh ever so sweetly, kindly. Though you're ridiculously spoiled, you were a good girl, following so obediently. If his cock didn't feel like it was burning to be inside your mouth, he would have revelled in it.

You squirm, turning back to him to hold his gaze while his wife started to fuck you through her tongue and fingers.

Someone up there was taking a piss on him. He pulls out his cock, a grunt and a curse, because fuck it, fuck you in particular— as the two of you continued on while keeping eye contact with him.

He took one step closer and Rhaenyra hissed.

"Whatever you want, baby." Nyra smirks against your pussy as he tugged at himself, teeth bared. "You're his punishment after all."

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Jump then fall part.3

Description: In which Aeron is Y/N's knight in shining armour and Benjicot has a soft spot for Bracken ladies crossing the border (this may be an Easter egg for future crossovers with The Blackwood Knight series 😏)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Playlist:

Fearless~ Taylor Swift @ithilwen-blackwood you are so right about Aeron being Fearless coded.

Somebody to You~ The Vamps

Hold my Girl~ George Ezra

Warnings: Canon typical misogyny, mentions of a panic attack, angst, swearing, I don't understand basic geography so I'm just making things up topographically

Y/N had hoped that taking a walk along the bank of the Red Fork would help clear her mind from the swirling thoughts that had consumed her mind of late since her return to the Riverlands. To her dismay, the gentle babbling of the river and the quiet beauty of the landscape she called home did little to distract her from thoughts of Aeron Bracken. Detained by his duties that morning, they had arranged to meet later that day. Her truest friend since she was but a girl, even the separation of many years had failed to sever their bond. Quite the opposite, and that is where the problem lay. Y/N had thought about Aeron Bracken often during her time in Kings Landing, constantly wondering whether he missed her as much as she missed him. When her father had informed her of their imminent return to the Riverlands, Y/N was delighted at the prospect of being reunited with her old friend. Whilst she had adapted to life in Kings Landing and forged new friendships, none had been as strong as the one she had made with the young Bracken boy.

She had convinced herself that everything could be just as it had been when they were children, determined to befriend him anew. But she had not counted on the butterflies that had arisen in her abdomen upon seeing him for the first time as a young man, a knight. He struck a dashing figure in the garb of his order and the colours of his house. She recalled thinking him pretty, almost like a woodland sprite as a child with his long locks of hair and sharp features. In that moment, she thought him the most handsome man she had ever seen. She found herself wanting to trace the outline of his cheekbones with her fingertips, to run her hands through his hair, which she rejoiced to see he still kept long, and she wanted to gaze into his warm brown eyes forever as they bore down into her own.

She did not know what she had been expecting, but Aeron Bracken was no longer the gangly boy she'd trusted enough upon first meeting to break her fall from the Brackentree. By the end of the evening Y/N feared that she might be falling in love this time, against all reason. He was the heir of Stone Hendge and would one day be Lord Bracken. Worse, he had been her closest friend and she had hoped he would be again. Y/N had no desire to jeopardise their friendship now they had been reunited.

While Aeron had by no means acted coldly towards her when his uncle had reintroduced them, she could not but notice how reserved and shy he seemed around her that first evening, holding her at somewhat of a distance. Several moons had passed since then and their rekindled friendship seemed stronger than ever, and there were many times when Y/N was certain Aeron shared her sentiments. He had never expressed it through words, but she had thought she had understood it in his actions.

By the way he would always read to her, knowing that she found the sound of his voice comforting, shoulders or arms always somehow brushing as they sat by side. By the way he would often bring her the flowers she adored so much, when she knew the Eastern part of the Bracken Woods where they could be found were nowhere near the training yard from whence he had come. By his gentleness towards her, always holding a hand out to help her over an obstacle and walking her home each day. And by the way he would gaze at her so attentively, looking at her as if she were the most interesting thing in his world no matter what their course of their current conversation was.

Yet Y/N was nervous to broach the subject, aiming to encourage Aeron through her own affectionate gestures and always hoping that her feelings for him were reciprocated. Mulling over her options, Y/N realised she had reached the outermost boundaries of Bracken lands, nearly stumbling over a pile up of boundary stones. Immediately turning to return back the way she had come, a jolt of raw panic pierced her heart as she spotted four Blackwood Knights storming angrily towards her. The one closest to her had a face like a storm cloud, his booming voice breaking the tranquility of the landscape.

"Bracken wench. Did you think you could just waltz right into Blackwood lands?" He sneered at her, voice dripping with venom. She opened her mouth to explain that his anger was misdirected, she had not crossed the boundary and was not strictly speaking a Bracken, but as he continued to glare furiously down at her she realised that she had chosen today of all days to wear a dress of mellow ochre, closely resembling the colours of House Bracken. She was immediately certain that nothing she said would carry much weight and started to take small but hurried steps backwards away from him, suddenly hoping Aeron would turn up and immediately cursing herself for the thought. It was not his responsibility to rescue her from every scrape she found herself in, she was no longer a child, and she would rather face a hundred shouting Blackwoods than see her knight endanger himself for her.

To her dismay the Blackwood Knight continued to advance towards her, suddenly taking hold of both her elbows in a bruising grip and aggressively shaking her.  "You think you can do whatever you want, don't you? You smug Brackens. But these are Blackwood lands and there are consequences for crossing them."  Panicking in earnest now, and finding herself unable to speak, Y/N feared the Blackwood would strike her or kill her where she stood, his anger so palpable and his iron grip searing through the fabric of her dress.

Her mind frantically fought for a way out of this situation, but before Y/N could act upon any of her admittedly half-baked escape plans she felt the Blackwood release her arms as he was abruptly shoved away from her onto the ground. A gentle but firm hand encircled her wrist, and she was swiftly pulled backwards as her rescuer took up a protective stance in front of her. Her relief at the realisation that the shoulders now concealing her from view were Aeron's was short lived, quashed by an intense wave of fear and nausea at the danger she had unwittingly placed him in.

Samwell was starting to get on Aeron's nerves. He'd been badgering him all day to tell Y/N how he felt, Tully girl be damned. He'd then been insistent on meeting Y/N with him after they'd finished in the training yard, much to Aeron's chagrin. The two had become dangerously conspiratorial, often banding together to tease him, and Aeron was unhappy to have to share Y/N's attention. His mood soured further when Jon and Edmund (who he always thought resembled a peacock) had similarly decided to tag along. He found himself marching along the Red Ford to meet Y/N with his friends in tow.

Distant shouting caught his attention as they passed close to the border. What he saw directly ahead of him had him seeing red and breaking into a run before his friends could fully comprehend what had set him off. Before he'd fully come to a stop he used his momentum to forcibly shove the Blackwood brute he'd seen manhandle Y/N away from her. Pulling Y/N behind him he tried to push her gently backwards towards Samwell who'd been hot on his heels.

"You dare attack a lady?" Aeron seethed, hand clasping the hilt of his sword. The Blackwood Knight had stumbled back up to his feet, three more Blackwoods hovering just behind him. "The stupid girl trespassed on our lands!"

Aeron stepped forward threateningly, glaring at the craven bastard who dared to insult Y/N. "They're Bracken lands, and if you speak another word about my lady you'll regret it." Suddenly Aeron felt a smaller hand grab his, tugging him backwards. "Please Aeron, it does not matter."

Y/N's voice was barely above a whisper and tears streamed down her face. It was all Aeron could do not to fell the Blackwood responsible where he stood for causing her state of distress. He wanted to hold her and comfort her, but he did not trust to turn his back on the Blackwood Knights when she was still in danger.

Samwell stepped between Aeron and the Blackwood. "The lady meant no harm, let's set the matter to rest." His tone was placating but firm and, for the most part, the Blackwoods seemed to have tired of the whole affair, turning to walk away. Aeron turned to look at Y/N, lightly cupping her cheek and bending down to look into her eyes. "Are you well my love?" She looked quizzically up at him, slowly nodding but still visibly shaken, trembling slightly. Aeron took deep breathes, trying to root himself to the ground and will himself not to do something reckless.

He might have successfully calmed himself enough to walk away as Y/N had asked, had he not heard the Blackwood bastard mutter under his breath "Bracken whore." Aeron removed himself from Y/N in the next second, his sword drawn and pointing directly at the Blackwood's heart, the sound of metal echoing throughout the clearing as more swords were drawn. Samwell quickly grabbed Y/N's arm to lightly drag her further backwards. The Blackwood Knight looked almost surprised at the unbridled rage on Aeron's face.

"What's all this then?" The smug face of Benjicot Blackwood as he strolled calmly towards the scene, as infuriatingly confident as ever. "Brackens can't fucking keep within the boundary lines" one of the Blackwood Knights snarled. "Your Knights attacked a lady, Blackwood" Aeron snapped back. "She should not have come so close to the border then!"

The young lord of Raventree seemed to assess the truth of the situation in mere moments, his eyes darkening. "I am sorry for the lady's distress, I will not permit any of my Knights to attack a woman on my lands" the last part addressed to his fellow Blackwoods. Benjicot turned slowly back towards Aeron, his expression far more serious than Aeron had ever seen it in any of their past interactions. "I trust you will honour the boundary stones in future Bracken."

Aeron said nothing, just glowering back at the Blackwood boy as he watced him turn away, signalling with a wave of his arm for the Blackwood Knights to follow. Aeron watched them walk away for a few moments before turning back around, looking for Y/N only to lock onto her a few yards away hyperventilating, a panicking Samwell frantically trying to calm her down. Aeron sprinted over, pushing Samwell aside. "It's ok Sam, I've got her."

Lowering himself to her level he cupped her face, trying to get her to meet his eyes all the while trying to reassure her in hushed tones only she could hear. "Hey, hey it's all OK. You're safe, no one will harm you, I swear to you."

Still struggling for breath, Y/N gasped out "I thought he'd kill you. And it would be all my fault." Aeron felt his heart stop for a moment at Y/N's heartfelt concern for him but any satisfaction he would have felt from such a confession was diminished by Y/N's sharp intakes of breaths and tear-stained face, which pulled at his heart strings. His primary concern was to calm her down, starting with assuring her that he was ok. "None of what transpired is your fault." Grabbing her hand, he pressed it firmly to his chest. "Can you feel my heartbeat beneath your palm?" Y/N looked up at him, nodding slowly. "I am unharmed." He spoke slowly, looking into her eyes, trying to keep her focus on him. Y/N's breathing slowly began to even out as she continued to feel the steady beat of Aeron's heart and the comforting heat of his hand atop hers, holding it in place over his chest.

Aeron did not know how much time they passed in this manner. After a time Y/N slumped onto him, her head coming to rest in the crook of his neck in exhaustion as he supported most of her weight. Tentatively adjusting his hold on her, Aeron moved his hands up and down her back in what he hoped was a comforting motion.

"I could not bear it if they'd hurt you because you were defending me." Y/N's voice was muffled by the fabric of his tunic but he heard her easily.

Tilting his head down close to her ear, Aeron replied in a soft tone "I will always defend you."

Y/N loosened the tight grip she had on his tunic to look up at him with eyes still blurry from tears. "Why?"

"Because I love you." Aeron had envisioned many scenarios for how he would confess his love to Y/N. But in the end the words fell from his lips almost without his permission. He had been so concerned for Y/N's safety, so angered to see her harmed and in tears, so grateful for her concern for him in spite of her own safety, and so relieved to see her well that the words came naturally. "What?" Y/N's eyes had widened  almost comically.

Aeron mustered all of the courage he possessed, taking a deep breath. "I said that I love you. I will always defend the woman I love." He shut his eyes briefly, lowering his head and waiting for her response.

"I Love you too, you silly boy."

His eyes snapped back up to meet her waiting smile.

"I think I have loved you ever since you coaxed me into jumping out of that tree."

He moved his hands to her waist, holding her in place and slowly moving his face closer to hers, noses lightly brushing against one another. "That is not exactly how I remember it, but I have loved you just as long."

Y/N laughed at that, bringing a hand back up to his tunic to pull him closer.

" May I kiss you?" Their close proximity had made Aeron braver than he'd normally be and the words left his mouth before he could rethink them.  Y/N responded by gently pressing her lips to his own, pulling away shortly afterwards. Aeron found himself chasing her lips and pulling her back towards him by her waist as she brought her hands up to his shoulders to grant her more leverage as their lips moulded together once more. Their first kiss was not the sweeping embrace of legends, it was clumsy and inexperienced, noses bumping against each other and teeth knocking together. Aeron found he did not care, pouring all of the love he felt for Y/N into each brush of his lips against hers.

Feral pretty Bracken defending his lady.

@lovebabe18 @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress

[bandgie]

Agora Hills

Changbin x fem!reader

synopsis: You thought breaking up with Changbin was for the best, but he's here to remind you that's completely and utterly wrong.

warnings: MDNI 18+, suggestive themes, exes-to-lovers, rich!changbin, he's an asshole but means well, some angst mostly fluff, thats it lol

1.5k words

It's not as though you hated Changbin, quite the opposite actually.

He's caring, sweet, and would rip the shirt off his back if you asked. He would treat you well, spoil you like a baby. He's really the whole package...all for one thing.

As sweet as he is to you, he's too snobby with other people. You knew he had money, lots of it. Anyone with that amount to their name can let it get to their head, but Changbin loved showing off how much he had. You couldn't do it anymore.

The final straw was when you were out on a double date with your friends. The restaurant wasn't up to Changbin's taste, and he made it very clear he did not like it to everyone. You tried to awkwardly laugh it off, but it was hard not to when he said, "This is why I don't like hanging out with the middle class, no offense. You guys just have no taste."

You saw red. Here was your boyfriend belittling the class your family has had to work their way into. With clenched teeth you apologized to your friends, broke up with Changbin, and had your friends drive you home.

It's been two weeks, and he's been calling you nonstop. Text after text, call after call, voicemail after voicemail. When you weren't picking up, he started sending gifts to your door. Jewelry, bouquets of flowers, clothes you knew cost more than your rent. Changbin had a habit of showing his love through materialistic ways, but it was getting annoying having to return them back to his address.

"You should ask for a car," your roommate chirps. 

You only rolled your eyes and groaned in return. You slumped further into the couch before burying your face in your hands. 

"You're supposed to be helping me," you say frustratingly. 

"I am," she protests. "Your shit car is breaking down, again, and you and I both know damn well your little sugar daddy would love to buy you a better one."

Angrily, you place your hands on the sides of the couch and sit up. "He's not my sugar daddy! Don't call him that."

Your roommate tsks and shakes her head, "Whatever. Have you called him at least?" 

You shake your head back, "I haven't spoken to him since that night."

"Well, maybe you should," she reasons. "Some guys need to hear it more than once, especially if you just up and left him like that. Who knows, maybe you can work things out too."

"I have," you stress. "He's just so...ignorant sometimes. And plus, I can't take him back after what he said to you."

Rather than seeming upset, your roommate shrugs. "I've heard worse. Plus I don't think he meant it in a bad way, like you said, he's just a little ignorant."

Her aloofness makes you both on edge and at ease. It's good to hear that she wasn't as offended as you thought she'd be, but her being so nonchalant about your situation is irritating. 

In times like these, you wish someone could just tell you what to do. 

"I say you call him," she answers your prayers. "If he's an ass, it only proves that you were right to dump him. If he's not, then you either owe him a better breakup or another chance."

Finding resolution, you stand to your feet and grab your phone from the coffee table. "You say it like it's so easy."

"That's because it is."

-

Changbin picks up on the first ring. Not that it should surprise you, but the rehearsed words die in your throat when he answers with an overly excited hello?

When you don't answer he prompts you again, "Baby...are you there?"

You can feel the way your heart clenches at the pet name. It's only been a mere two weeks since you've heard his voice and you're already wanting to cry. 

"Don't call me that," your voice is small. 

"Why not?" He asks. You can hear how shaky his voice is, but you convince yourself it's the static. If he really cared about you, he wouldn't have said that in the first place. "Are you not my baby anymore?"

You have to chew on your bottom lip and look up to the ceiling of your room to keep yourself from crying. A few seconds pass before you speak, "I dunno...Changbin you really...you really messed up."

"I know, baby, and I'm so sorry. I'm stupid. I hurt you and embarrassed you in front of your friends. I would do it over again if I could, baby believe me. We can fix this, I can be better. I love you, you know that."

He's right, you do know that. There wasn't a moment in your relationship where you doubted his love for you. Changbin has been a little snobby before, but that doesn't compare to his overwhelming adoration for you.

"I love you too Binnie," you sniff. "I wanna fix this too."

You swear you can hear him smile behind the phone. "That's all I need to hear baby. You mean so much to me that I can't even explain it, you know that?"

Despite the tears on your waterline you laugh, "Yeah I do Binnie. You mean a lot to me too."

Changbin laughs with you. "I miss you baby...it's so lonely in my mansion."

Whatever tenderness you had filling your heart dissipates and is replaced with agitation. "Jesus this is exactly what I mean! It's those little stupid fucking remarks that-"

"No! Baby baby I didn't mean it like that! It's a Doja Cat song-"

"-and here I was really wanting to make things work and you just-"

The two of you begin to talk over one another, the previous confessions nearly forgotten. It takes Changbin profusely apologizing and begging for you to stop arguing. 

"Over the phone isn't gonna cut it. I'll send a limo and you can come over. Please baby, we can fix this."

You sigh heavily and collapse on your bed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Okay."

-

No matter how many times you enter Changbin's house, if you can call it that, it always leaves you breathless. Polished floors, high ceilings, with chandeliers dangling up above you. It's clean, not a speck of dust in sight, most likely thanks to the many invisible housemaids. 

He had ushered you to his room, sitting you on his couch as he remained standing. 

It felt good to see him, even if you were pissed. He was as muscular as ever, a black tank top showing his pecs and arms deliciously. He must've worked out before you came, he tended to use the gym as a stress reliever. 

"There's really no excuse I have other than I'm stupid." Changbin starts. 

You let a small breath of air out that mimics laughter, "You don't have to tell me that.

Changbin smiles at you, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah." He pauses. "At the dinner, I really don't know why I even said that. I didn't mean to hurt you, or your friends. It's was inappropriate and fucked up of me. We can go and I can apologize to them. Anything you want me to do, just name it."

Timidly, he gets on his knees between your legs and takes your hands into his own. "I love you. I love everything about you even if I complain like an idiot. I'm just not used to...some things, but I don't want that to be the end of us. I can learn, and I can change. Just don't leave me. Please."

God, if there's one thing Changbin is good at, it's begging. His hot breath fans over your bare legs, sending chills up your body. You can feel the heat of his body rolling off onto yours. He looks beautiful. His dark, messy curls that sit at the top of his head, the broadness of his shoulders, the way his lips pout. 

As big as he is, he's still a baby.

Your baby.

Gently, you untangle your hands from his, and his face drops for a moment. You quickly place them on his face, pulling him forward until his lips meet your own. 

Changbin squeaks at the feel of your kiss, but his initial shock turns into passion. He grips the side of your face with one hand while the other steadies himself on your knee. It's gentle, the way he pulls back for a moment before diving back in.

There’s nothing but love in his featherlight lips enveloping yours. All you can feel is him, his passion, his devotion to you. All the things he wants to say- no, he needs to say is conveyed through the kiss.

His hands snakes to the back of your head, pushing you deeper into his mouth. It doesn't take long before his lips don't feel like enough, and you're both opening your mouths to taste each other. 

It makes your heart swoon to know that he tastes the same. Familiar. Safe. 

Changbin grows bold, the hand on your knee moving up to grip the plushness of your thighs. 

"So, you forgive me?" He asks between kisses.

You pull back and pretend to think, "I don't know. Why should I?"

This makes Changbin smile, fully. "I can show you. Would that be better?"

The hand on your thigh inches to the hem of your shorts. The way his warm fingers caress your skin makes you involuntarily open your legs a little wider. 

"I guess that'll do for now."

a/n: this is a little different from what I usually post, but I like it. hope you do too! thank you @then-make-me for editing/proofreading!

[burningcheese-merchant]

"Our Little Dance" - BurningCheese Short #7

THE SEQUEL TO "Mine Forever More" IS HERE! After I went through the story in episode 6 a couple more times to help visualize things and NOT just to watch Burning Spice openly obsess over Golden Cheese over and over again I swear, I was finally struck with inspiration. Thought about some concepts during work, fleshed them out more when I came home, finally reached a coherent game plan, and here we are. I really hope you all enjoy it!

WARNING PART 2: Again, this is one-sided BurningCheese/GoldenSpice. This is Yandere Spice, not Flirty Asshole Spice. This Spice doesn't deserve Golden Cheese, he deserves a restraining order, or a spot on a registry, or to outright face the fucking wall. He is worse in this part than the last. Go read something else if you're not comfortable with that (and/or if you're a minor).

He knew she wouldn't disappoint him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Burning Spice never cared for dancing. Those few times he allowed himself to be dragged over to that happy, energetic crowd, in those long-gone days of his heroic youth, he always found himself regretting it. Slow, hunched steps so as not to accidentally stomp on the child's feet, as he was so much bigger and stronger than they were. Awkward mimicry of the group circling him, cheering each other on as they carried out traditional performances (he didn't join them on that, of course, the dance itself was tedious enough). Averted - rolled, if he was annoyed enough - eyes and polite disinterest for the red-faced girl who tripped over herself just asking for his hand (she seemed too starstruck to notice he danced with her out of obligation and nothing else).

He remembers people trying to change his mind on the matter. Dancing was not so different from fighting, they said. They had the same flow, the same energy, if one did them right.

What a bold-faced, silly little lie. Dancing only got worse each time he engaged in it. It was annoying. It was all fake. It was boring. Like everything else turned out to be.

He hated those people. He hated festivals. He hated the pitiful civilizations that conjured them. He hated peace and merriment. He hated history. He hated change. He hated life. He hated dancing.

...Or he did, once. He used to. He sees the error of his ways now.

It turns out that what he'd needed all along was the right dance partner.

And she was exactly that, and so much more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Their first dance was too short. Their shared passion burned bright, but fizzled out quickly. She'd missed an important step. Stumbled. Fallen.

It was alright. He was angry in the moment, and he told her so. He punished her for her mistake, for her weakness - just as she deserved. They had both waited far too long for this for her to go on and screw it up.

But it was alright. Really. She was still here; she was still breathing; he could still her heart beating in her chest. So long as these were true, then it would be alright. She would collect herself. She would rise, strong and proud, shaking off all of the dirt and blood. She would return to him. To his embrace. They would dance again, better than before. He would give himself to her in his entirety, as he'd planned to. And she would do the same.

His usual lack of patience got the better of him, if only for a moment, as he tucked her into her prison cell. But how could he be blamed? She was simply too beautiful. She looked too perfect there, nestled into his arms, her head still resting against his chest. He'd told her that the kiss was payment for him allowing her lackey to live - and that was true, it really was. He'd wanted that man dead the very second he came into Burning Spice's line of sight. He was too close to her, in either sense of the word, and Burning Spice simply would not have it. It simply wouldn't do. This error shall be corrected soon enough - with extreme, ever-mounting prejudice, the longer the man spent anywhere near Burning Spice's beloved.

But really, more than that, he just wanted to taste her. He simply couldn't bear not doing so anymore. The faint shimmer of her golden hair in the pale light shining down from the ceiling, those rogue strands still framing her face so prettily despite being otherwise ruined, the feeling of her skin against his, that sweet mouth set in such a dazzling frown, that glint of furious determination in her eyes - it was all too much. It was her own fault, really. She made it too hard to say no.

Fuck, she tasted good. So, so good. Sweet, but tangy, and oh so rich. All mixed together into one flavor that he could only describe as her. As Golden Cheese. And fuck, he was already hooked. Addicted to the feeling of her soft lips on his own. Addicted to the feeling of his tongue caressing hers. Addicted to the feeling of her breath mixing with his. He needed more. He'd die without it. He'd die without her.

She would give him more, he knew. She had to. They had so much lost time to make up for already. A bit of time recovering in peace and quiet (ugh), and she'll be alright again. She'll come back to him. And he'll give her many, many more long-awaited kisses.

Their dance wasn't over yet.

She won't disappoint him. She can't.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Yes... Yes, this was what he wanted. Exactly what he wanted. She knew him far too well. Better than anyone ever had.

She escaped. With her lackey, unfortunately - but oh well, they can deal with that later. What mattered now was her taking this next step. Taking the lead in their special dance. So bold, so forward. He loved it. He loved her.

She led him through the halls of his temple; had him weave between the columns, hurry past faded murals depicting his former greatness. He chased her every which way, drank in her lingering scent with relish. Perhaps he should have let her take the lead sooner; this was SO much fun. He was having far too much fun following in her steps. Only she would have the cleverness and creativity to also make their dance a game. To add in all of those aspects of a thrilling hunt that he so adored into their little performance. Yes, he loved this. He adored it.

Honestly, where has she been all his life?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When their dance hit that fever pitch once again, he half expected his heart to burst from his chest out of sheer euphoria. Dragging one another through the temple a second time, all of those worthless walls and pillars and decorations getting caught in their beautiful maelstrom. Such delightful devastation, brought about by her. By his love for her. By them and their union. By this perfect little dance of theirs.

In his manic glee, he let his mask fall, if only slightly. Now wasn't the right time, he would pour his dark, aching heart out to her only when he knew that right time had come - but oh God, she knew exactly what to say to him and how, and how to bring out both the best and worst in him all at once. He would taunt her, mock her, and she would meet his sneering with her own sarcastic indignation. This bickering, this bantering - so, so much fun. SHE was so much fun.

She teased him, too, much to his heightened joy. "The world? I do not care for the world! Nor do I wish to protect it! Or to be called a hero!" A bold yet terrible liar, she was, after she ruined their first dance for the sake of that child. She was truly beautiful, inside and out; at her core shone the bright and pure soul of a hero. And yet, she denied it. It was funny. It was cute. She was so cute.

"I am the Radiant Deity of the Golden City! I fight only to protect my treasures. And I will NOT let the likes of you harm what is mine!" Oh, she truly was so adorable. Prized possessions were just what he loved to destroy most. And he HATED how much these things meant to her: her land, her palace, her gold and jewels, her subjects. He hated them so much, that he let his mask slip: he confessed that, when their dance was over, he planned to go and destroy it all. Everything she ever held dear, wiped off the face of the earth. She didn't need any of it, anyway. He realized long ago that nothing truly matters - nothing except for them, of course - and she would come to realize it, too. He would make sure of it.

Nothing mattered to him except for her. Nothing shall matter to her except for him. They shall keep on dancing forever, even as the world crumbled to dust around them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He began losing his patience near the end. Still more her fault than his. She got to him too much. Too badly.

Some of the weight behind his axe vanished, for he began to favor his own hands instead of it. The axe carved her open, drew her blood, had her dancing so erratically, so desperate to evade its brutal swing - and he enjoyed that. But he enjoyed touching her even more. When he got close enough - and he did everything in his power to get close enough, even for just a second - he would catch her off guard by striking her with his fists instead. He just... he NEEDED to touch her. The itch only got more unbearable as they danced on. Just one split second of his hands on her body, that's all. Even in the form of bloodied knuckles leaving deep bruises on her stomach, or knocking the wind out of her lungs. That's all he wanted. Was that so wrong?

If she noticed this, she made no sign of it. With the way she acted, it was fair to assume she no longer noticed much of anything. She was weakening again; though their dance continued on, though that fire still consumed them, it seemed now that she was being overwhelmed. She was starting to stumble again. She missed a step or two. Had him pick up the slack. It was unfortunate, but still fun, still amusing - he was too far gone to really be upset that this was happening again, to be honest. The spices in the air, the smell of her blood, the sound of her cries and labored breathing... too much. All too much. He was losing his damn mind, and it was exquisite.

But... oh, Golden Cheese, his little bird, with her tenacity and her endless surprises. Even as he took charge of their dance again, she found another way to get to him. To crawl beneath his skin and eat him alive from the inside out.

Her tongue - that sweet, soft, delicious, clever, beautiful tongue - became a poisonous barb, as sharp and painful as the tip of the golden spear that tried (and often succeeded, to her credit) to impale him everywhere she could reach. She attacked not only his body now, but his character, his spirit. She called him a failure. Declared that he had never been a hero nor a god, and never deserved to have been called either. She accused him of self-serving cowardice, of wanting desperately to hide his own shortcomings underneath all of that rubble and all of those mutilated corpses. All with that smug, little upturn of the corners of her lips, and a tiny but bright glint in her eye.

Yes... she knew him too well. She knew how to reach into his heart and twist it. She blinded him with love, then rage, then love again. Invigorating fury. Delectable pain.

And he would inflict this same pain on her tenfold, as punishment for her insults, and encouragement for her to say them to him all over again. For Burning Spice loved and worshipped Golden Cheese, poisonous barbs and all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She fell again. Their little dance came to an end. There she was now, on her knees, her head bowed, soaked in blood. THEIR blood, mixed together. For a brief moment, she had turned him into an artist; in turn, he used her as his canvas.

Just what would it take for her to stop being so damn beautiful, he wondered?

"You said I failed? Hahaha..."

Come, now. He couldn't help himself. Their dance had been so much fun; now he was just riding out the rest of his high. And he wanted her with him, doing the same.

"My... greed... never..."

Still fighting, even now. Even with so many shattered, aching bones. Even with her spear all but snapped in half, rendered practically useless. Her voice sounded tired, broken like the rest of her. But she still feigned strength and poise the best she could. A proud warrior to the very end. Lovely. He would never have accepted anything less.

His mouth contorted into a smile of bitter amusement. "Warlords, heroes, villains and kings... I've seen all of them in my time." She had seen fit to give him a scathing lecture before. Why can't he do the same to her here and now? "They all tried to avert their doom, and like one another, they all perished."

No response. Rude... but understandable. It was fine, regardless. Her silence was answer enough.

"You, on the other hand..." He knelt before her, leaning down and resting his forehead against hers. Her skin felt hot and sticky, those tufts of fluffy hair brushing against him damp with blood and sweat. "Forgotten by history itself, and yet you still persist."

He cupped her chin and tilted her head up, forcing her to look him in the eye. Gone was that bitterness, no longer was he amused. Now his smile was a manic grin that all but split his face wide open, outshined only by the fire in his eyes. His mask had fallen off completely.

"I fucking love it," he told her.

And then he kissed her again, because he had to. Because he couldn't handle not doing so anymore. Their kiss - his kiss - was starved, desperate, sharp teeth and a hot tongue licking and biting at her lips, that same tongue forcing its way into her mouth and eagerly dominating her own. He finally let his hands roam, more than he'd been able to before, and he lost himself in her touch, in the soft, flawless skin of her arms and legs and stomach - every place she, through her chosen attire, had so graciously left exposed to him. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer, pressing it into her back - right where her wings used to be. She winced; he hugged her tighter. She grunted in pain, he moaned in delirious pleasure, all but drowning her out. He couldn't take it. Just- just couldn't take it anymore. She was just so perfect. So delicious. She danced so beautifully. She drove him mad. He loved it. He fucking loved it.

Their dance was over, but it was fine. It was alright. It had been fantastic, better than he'd hoped. Another devastating loss to her name, worse than the last - but that was how their dance was supposed to go, anyway. It was alright. She's fine, she'll be fine. He won't allow her not to be, because she needed to get back up and dance with him again, and again, and again, and again and again and again and again and again-

"Master!"

His eyes shot open, and he froze mid-lick, still feeling the erratic pulsing of her jugular vein against his tongue (he had briefly abandoned her lips in favor of her neck, showering it with searing, ravenous affection). Slowly, regretfully, he pulled away, releasing Golden Cheese from his grasp and rising to his feet. Back came that old bitterness - pure and true this time, pulling his lips back into a furious snarl and replacing the burning desire in his eyes with boiling hatred.

Nutmeg Tiger bounded into the room and knelt (collapsed, really) at his feet, exhaustion written all over her features but offering him a dutiful smile nevertheless. "Heh... I'm glad to see you... pleased... Great One."

Pleased? She thought he was pleased? He had been relishing his ultimate victory, in this little dance he had with his little bird, finally holding her in his arms again and touching and tasting her... and this- this miserable wretch barges in and interrupts them, and she thought he was PLEASED?

"You! Where have you been?" he spat at her. "You seem even more pathetic than usual."

So pathetic was she, apparently, that she failed to notice his clear outrage at her presence and actually responded. "I merely... took care of that... lackey of hers."

Another fatal mistake. HE had wanted to be the one to "take care of that lackey of hers". He'd wanted to strangle him with his own entrails and gloat that Golden Cheese was HIS AND HIS ALONE as he watched the light in that worm's eyes dim. But no. Nutmeg Tiger robs him of joy and satisfaction yet again.

She kept talking. This weak, mindless, PATHETIC creature kept talking at him. Something or another about the lackey revealing information about Golden Cheese's subjects, and how she'd convinced some Spices to desert. For Golden Cheese's sake - and perhaps to sprinkle a bit of salt into her wounds - he feigned surprise and interest, and laughed in her face when Nutmeg Tiger was finished. He knew all of this already. He knew his little bird inside and out, thanks to the Soul Jams. But playing pretend for a little while wouldn't hurt, would it?

"How does it feel?" he asked her, after he'd indulged in his fair share of cruel mockery. "How does it feel to lose everything?"

Nothing but the sight and sound of her clutching at the ground, trembling fingers raking through the dirt.

"But I must give credit where it's due," he laughed. Perhaps a bit of honest encouragement would rouse her. "After all, it's thanks to you that I realized I had to get my Soul Jam back."

She'd done far more for him - to him - than just that, of course. More than mere words could express. But that was what their dance had been for, wasn't it? That's what all of their dances will be for.

He reached down and grabbed her chin again. "Look me in the eye, Golden Cheese," he said. "I wish to see your face when I kill you."

He won't kill her. He can't. Her death would only result in his own, out of grief and boredom. He will pretend to kill her, then steal her away when neither this brainwashed fool nor anyone else was watching. He'll take her to his palace, to his bedroom. He'll clean her up, help her recover faster so they could dance again sooner. And while he waited, he would open up to her. Pour the whole rest of his heart out to her. Make her whine and beg to have his hands and mouth explore those parts of her that she still hid from him.

"I shall crush your greed, your treasures, your dough." He squeezed her face hard, digging his nails into her cheeks. "And, in the end, I shall take back my Soul Jam."

He knelt down before her one more time, low enough so his face was level with hers. "Don't worry. I always keep my promises..."

He thought he felt her head shift in his grasp... He thought he felt her eyes flicker towards him, if only for a moment, before falling to the ground once more. He promised to bring them back and never let them leave him again.

"All you ever held dear will be swallowed by the Tide of Change."

Everything. Her friends. Her subjects. Whatever still remained of her kingdom. The world itself. All of it. There shall be nothing left except for him, and all of those lonely, adoring, battle-crazed promises he's been silently making to her all the way until that very moment.

Above all else, he promised to keep dancing with her forever.

All he could do - all he's done, all this time - was hope she heard him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She... Golden Cheese, she...

...Oh. Oh, Golden Cheese. His gorgeous, powerful, radiant Golden Cheese...

She surprised him again. As she teetered at the edge of this great precipice, she regained her strength and clarity and saved herself. She broke free from his grasp. She rose to her feet and stood tall. Her voice rose with each word she spoke; words born from pain and sorrow, but overcome with righteous determination. And the Soul Jam - her Soul Jam - recognized this show of unwavering courage and returned to her without hesitation.

And she... then she...

She... changed. She changed form. Gone were those numerous deep wounds that carved and bled into each other. Gone was the blood, the sweat, the tears. A warm, shimmering light enveloped her, stripped her of all of her woes - and her old, tattered clothes - fuck, he'd been staring closely enough to realize that the light had temporarily stripped her bare and damn it, why wouldn't it let him see?! - and released her back into the world, born entirely anew. Dressed in the finest gold, the brightest blue, the- the red? There was red on her now? She donned his color? Just for his sake?

Oh, Golden Cheese, his beloved Golden Cheese... His delectable prey, his precious golden thief, his pretty little bird-

No. Not just a bird now. A phoenix. His stunning, courageous, radiant phoenix.

Yes, his beloved phoenix took him by surprise again and hurried him back to the dance floor... and he watched, not daring to blink even once, as she rose into the sky, eclipsing the sun itself with her mighty wings.

"Burning Spice," she called to him, "It seems the Tide of Change has turned in my favor."

Ohhhhhhhhh fuck, this perfect woman. Always knowing what to say to him and how. Never without her confidence, her pride, her shine. Her radiance.

"Hear my words. You chose to let go of everything you ever had. You do not deserve even the smallest smidgen of my treasures."

Oh, he was hearing her words, alright. He was etching them into the walls of his skull, pouring them onto his brain, forcing them to sink in as deep as possible. Letting the sound of her angelic voice nest in his ears and infect his mind, forcing all of his remaining thoughts out and taking their place like a greedy parasite.

But she was lying and teasing him again, pretty thing. He hasn't let go of everything. He was still clinging to his darling phoenix, desperate to keep her close. She was the only treasure of hers that he ever wanted. And the only thing that will make him let go is death itself.

Yet more glittering golden lights appeared all around her, alongside thickening clouds of earth and spice. From this divine storm came a cluster of spears, each one sharper and deadlier than the last.

The grin on his face ached terribly now, with how great and long-lasting it was.

"How can someone who has forsaken everything prevail over someone who has lost everything?"

Ah, but that wasn't true, either. She has him! She still has him and his love, their love. She still had their little dance; all of those little steps and bends and twirls, their boundless passion and energy, the electrifying touch of their skin and mingling of their breaths. And as he told her once before, he would gladly forsake everything for her. His temple, his possessions, his fellow Spices, EVERYTHING FOR HER AND ONLY HER!

"Remember this moment and taste the bitterness of regret..."

Regret? What regret? He wasn't capable of that anymore and he never would be again - not as long as she was there, taking the Sun's place as the source of light and warmth in his world.

"For you are about to face defeat from everything you have ever discarded!!!"

She dove straight towards him, volley after volley of spears raining down alongside her. His very own meteor shower, with the most captivating shooting star right at the center.

He leapt towards her, the strength of his leap leaving behind a crater where he once stood, wild, demonic cackling spilling from his mouth with abandon. Eyes locked onto one another's: brilliant, wrathful, glittering gold and smoldering, ecstatic, lovestruck red. Spear aimed right at his heart. Axe ready to swipe at her waist and cleave her in two.

She was offering him her hand, asking for his own in turn. She wanted to dance with him again. She missed being in his arms, and the two of them gliding across the floor together in perfect synchronicity. Their unrivaled harmony, the envy of all who witnessed it.

He shall take her hand. How could he not? He loved dancing with her far too much to do otherwise. He loves dancing now, and it's all her fault. She made it too hard to say no.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She did not disappoint him, and neither did the crushing weight of his entire temple bearing down on his back. How touching of her to leave him with such a gift, honestly.

Their last dance ended with a bang. With her staying true to her word and striking him down with all that he had discarded. And now there he lay, in the ruins of that place he and many others once cherished as a home and sanctuary.

He could hear a voice, somewhere at the edge of all the rubble. Nutmeg Tiger. If only he'd had the good sense to slaughter her like a pig like he ought to have ages ago. Now, as he shrugs the debris off of himself and regains his footing, he consoles himself with the idea that in the future, he can execute her right in front of his darling phoenix as a way to return her loving gesture. Yes, that sounds like a plan...

His muscles and bones screamed at him with every little movement he made, but he did not listen. Instead he shambled forward, out of reach of the temple ruins, that mewling, pathetic creature that called herself Nutmeg Tiger still buzzing around him like the insignificant little fly she was.

Clutching at the stab wound in his side (the one that was bleeding the most heavily, anyway), Burning Spice threw his eyes to the early morning sky. Their dance had lasted all the way until dawn... Beautiful.

A smile crept across his face, that eventually grew into a grin, that eventually fell open as deep, joyous laughter erupted from the pit of his stomach and out of his bloody mouth. Nutmeg Tiger started laughing too, but he didn't care about that. This moment was meant for him to savor all alone.

His dance with Golden Cheese had been everything he'd dreamed of and more... And he knew that their next dance would be just like it, for she never, ever disappointed him and never, ever will.

And there shall be many more dances. They shall take each other's hand and sway to their unique rhythm over and over again, until pain and exhaustion consumed them both, only to rise and take each other by the hand and dance another day.

Perhaps those fools from eons ago were right: dancing really is like fighting, if done right. And he and Golden Cheese did it exactly right.

Dancing was Burning Spice's favorite thing now, just as Golden Cheese was his favorite person.

He wanted to dance with her forever. Forever and ever and ever...

------------------------------

this was hard to write lol. I really, truly wasn't expecting people to want a sequel to MFM, so I had no plan ready (which is not like me as a writer at all, I am very much an "architect"/obsessive planner with my stories). I waited for episode 6 to drop for inspiration, and when I got it, I hit another roadblock in the form of me having TOO many ideas I wanted to work with. I thought of focusing on their moment right before GC awakens, but then I wanted to also do something with his confession to her (where he admits that he will gladly destroy his entire life to get to her), but then I also wanted to acknowledge his enjoyment of their game of hide-and-seek in the temple, but then but then but then lol. I eventually zeroed in on that scene where he called what they were doing a "dance", and realized that that was what captured my attention the most. The idea that he views their fight as a dance. So that's how I chose to frame his POV and the story as a whole. Like he thinks they're "dancing" together through the whole thing.

idk if I'm happy with the end result overall. I really wanted to do you all justice since you wanted a part 2 so bad. I can always go back and retool things/try to do a "version 2" with those other, smaller concepts as well. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed this. Thank you for caring enough to want to see more from me, sorry for the wait haha

And remember, Burning Spice canonically called her his "little bird" and "lovely" and that he was enjoying "their little dance", and he canonically admitted that he would destroy everything and everyone for her, and no one can ever take that away from us now :)

[mimi-cee-genshin]

Straight Shooter - Tighnari x f!reader

Summary: First impressions aren't easy to overcome, but for someone like Tighnari, they're a piece of cake.

Additional info: cute and wholesome fluff, meet cute, enemies to lovers (for, like, two seconds lol), 1.1k words

(Thanks to @paimonial-rage and @andromeda-nova-writing for beta reading!)

*****

Sand got between your toes and rubbed against the soles of your feet as you hurried down the dirt road. Gandharva Ville was in sight – thirty minutes later than planned.

Collei waved at you in the distance with both arms stretched out wide. As you came near, someone else was beside her waiting at the entrance of a house. His ears were his most prominent feature, but his arms were crossed as he tapped his foot. He was irritated.

You stopped in front of Collei, out of breath and panting for air.

“You're finally here!” said Collei. “I was worried something horrible happened to you.”

“I'm so sorry. I–” You cut your own words short because you didn't have an acceptable explanation. You simply slept in and that was a weak excuse for the first day on the job.

The guy scoffs at you. “Seems like you're following in your father's footsteps, huh?”

At first, you blinked a couple of times, stunned at his words. A growing portion of both anger and embarrassment burned inside you. You gripped your bag, hands already sweating from the run to Gandharva Ville. This was an awful start to your day and this guy made it worse.

“I'll be around the back if you need anything,” he said to Collei. With that, he left the two of you alone.

“Collei, who was that?” you asked. You were somehow able to conceal the irritation in your voice.

“That was Master Tighnari. He can be a little harsh at times,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck, “but he's a really great guy.”

Her words didn't exactly quell the sensation in your gut. This Tighnari guy criticized both you and your dad in a single shot when he didn't even know you.

You put those thoughts aside to refocus on the job ahead. Once inside the house, you took out a textbook and a few sheets of paper and placed them on Collei’s desk. You instructed Collei to work through exercises to evaluate her current language skills. With excitement, she picked up her pencil and went straight to work. Fortunately, you could tell right away she'd be a good student. 

Despite your earlier encounter with Tighnari, you were glad your father had told you about this job. Your previous one was getting tiring and you could schedule tutoring around other tasks and errands more easily. If only you could forget what your dad added.

"Who knows? Maybe you can even find a guy you like at this job," he told you.

"And how old exactly are your coworkers?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

You scoffed at the thought. You knew your dad was just teasing but you were content with being single. However, if a good guy came along, you wouldn't complain.

“I think I'm done now,” said Collei as she handed you the sheet with a bashful smile.

“You don't need to be so nervous around me, Collei,” you said. “I'm not that much older than you.”

Her smile grew larger. “I'm just really glad I was able to find someone like you. Master Tighnari has been teaching me this whole time and it was taking a toll on him.”

“Really?” you said, raising a brow.

“Mmhmm. He has a lot of work as the lead forest watcher so I wanted to help him out by hiring a dedicated tutor,” she explained.

So this guy would go out of his way to help someone like Collei. Maybe he wasn't as bad as you initially thought, but you still had some reservations.

After completing the lesson for the day, you packed up your belongings and Collei thanked you for your work. She was even eager for your return tomorrow, bright-eyed and ready to learn.

You stretched and yawned as you exited the house, and at the edge of the trail, you saw Tighnari standing there as if he were waiting for the two of you to finish. 

You clutched your bag close to your chest as you walked towards the trail. You put some distance between yourself and Tighnari as you walked past him. Just as you thought you were about to successfully avoid him, he called out to you.

“Could I talk to you for a moment?” he asked.

You took a breath. “What is it?” you said, turning to him. 

“There's something I want to clear up, if that's alright with you.” 

You loosen the grip on your bag slightly.

“It seems that my comment earlier has caused some… undesirable effects. It wasn't my intention to be rude to you like that.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, raising a brow.

“You see, I'm quite sarcastic around your father. As my senior, he often pokes fun at me and I, in return, have my own way of responding to him. It's simply how we behave as coworkers.”

So that was what it was. You had thrown your own retorts to your father’s silly quips as well.

“I mistakenly assumed the two of you would have a similar temperament,” he continued, “which is why I behaved in that manner. When I realized there was a chance you might be more like Collei, I decided it would be best to clear this up with you. I didn't want to leave you with a bad impression of me. And so, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You relaxed your shoulders, and for the first time today, took a good look at him. An ear was slightly bent, showing that he was a bit ashamed of his assumptions of you, yet his eyes looked directly at you, sympathetic yet focused.

This was Tighnari. A straight shooter.

“Thank you,” you told him. “For clearing that up, I mean. Not just anyone would take the time to do that.”

“It's not a problem. It's the sensible solution. I'd do it for anyone,” he told you. He lifted his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. “Anyway, are you heading home now? I hope it's not too far of a journey for you.”

“I'm actually headed to the city to meet up with some friends.”

“I see,” he said with a hand on his chin. “In that case, I'll leave you to it. I'm heading to Pardis Dhyai in a bit. I'll see you tomorrow then.”

You lifted your hand to give a subtle wave as he walked back to the house. Collei left the building after hearing his call, and she retold her day to him with a skip in her step as the two of them went to look for a fellow forest watcher.

You spun on your heel and made your way to the city. Your feet were clear of dirt and sand. Perhaps your dad was right. The guys here didn't seem so bad after all.

*****

I hope you liked it! I might add a part two some day, but for now, it'll remain as a one-shot. :) (You can also check out my other fics as well.)

[rogueddie]

Steve has always known that, one day, his parents would turn on him.

It's always been an uphill battle with them. It had taken him weeks to even get the conversation started, months to get them to turn a blind eye until he could finally be him.

He had won, in the end. He got what he wanted. They even moved across the country, all the way to Indiana, they keep their mouths shut and lie where they have to... mostly to protect their reputation, not Steves life, but still.

All of it, however, was made in the promise that Steve would one day work with his father. That he would fight his way to the top and be another thing that makes his parents look good. The long desired son and heir to the Harrington name.

With his parents extending their travels more and more, he's able to lie a little. He makes a lot of vague promises and waves away questions that inch increasingly closer to the truth.

But they're getting impatient. Their questions turning sharp, with vague implications of returning early so they can "correct" him. Put him on the "right course". They want him to finally fulfill his end of the bargain.

He's running out of time.

"I thought you were going to stick with Robin when she goes to college?" Eddie frowns.

"I was," Steve turns so he can hide his grimace. "She's going to stick as close as she can though. I, uh... kinda want some space from all of this. A break, you know?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

Eddie stays silent, the quiet dragging on long enough that Steve turns to glance back at him.

He's leaning on the counter, raising his eyebrows at Steve when they make eye contact, expression expectant.

"That's it," Steve lies, insistent. "Really. I need to get away for a while."

"Sure," Eddie nods. His smile is tight, forced. "And this has nothing to do with your parents coming home soon."

"What? That- no. Don't be silly."

Steve tries to laugh, wincing at how strained it sounds.

"Man, come on. You can talk to me. If they're..." Eddie pauses, glancing around the store, leaning closer and lowering his voice. "If they're hurting you, you can stay with us. Wayne won't let them near you. Robin would kill them for you."

"They're not hurting me. I'm not worried about that."

Although, Steve pauses. His fathers anger about his poor grades had been worse than he'd expected. He'd been worried, for a moment, that things were about to turn violent. If they find out that he's going to break his promise...

"Steve? Hey, are you alright?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I'll be fine. Forget about it, I'll just... think of something else. It's not a big deal."

"Right, uh... maybe you should talk to Robin about-"

"Hello!" Steve greets, turning the customer with a wide grin. "How can I help you?"

He tries to keep his focus on the customer, but he can see Eddie shaking his head and shuffling out. He pauses at the door, glancing back with a frown.

Steve glances at him, worrying at the determination on his face.

He clears his throat, looking back to the customer, trying to brush it off.

It plagues his mind. Its only when Robin finally joins him that he's able to push it to the side, soaking up the time and teasing as much as he can.

"We should visit Nance," Robin says, towards the end of their shift. "Hang out. We haven't for a while, have we?"

"Uh... sure?" Steve frowns at her. Something in her tone sounds wrong. "Did something happen?"

She glances at him, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't know," she shrugs. "Maybe?"

"Ok," he grabs her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "We'll make sure she's ok."

It isn't until they're leaving for the Wheeler house that he grows suspicious.

Usually, Robin is relieved when he figures out what's worrying her. She wouldn't talk about what she thinks is wrong with Nancy, but she would usually talk about why she's worried. She'd take the opportunity to vent her stress.

But she's silent. She won't look at him, picking at her nails...

"This isn't about Nance, is it?" He asks after a minute.

"No, it is!" She insists, voice cracking. "Totally!"

He glances at her with a raised brow.

"Ok, fine, it isn't! But I'm not telling you what it's really about!"

"It's about me," he huffs, gently smacking her leg and looking at her with a smile so she knows he isn't mad. "Eddie's idea, right?"

She grumbles, folding her arms, sinking low in the passenger seat.

"Did he tell you to lie?"

"Of course he did, he's an idiot."

Steve snorts.

He throws an arm around her shoulders as they walk up to the Wheelers front door.

"Steve!" Mrs Wheeler greets with a grin, which softens when she looks to Robin. "Robin. Oh, it's so lovely to see you two. They're waiting for you in the basement."

Steve is taken back when they step down into the basement. There's more people than he would have expected to turn up for him.

Eddie, Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle are gathered around the bottom of the stairs, beckoning them down. The kids are all piled on the sofa, with El and Lucas propped up on the arms. Even Hopper is waiting, arms crossed in the corner.

"Steve," Eddie starts.

But Steve quickly cuts him off. "What did you tell everyone? This isn't an emergency or anything."

"So there is something," Nancy says.

"Yeah, but it's my problem to deal with."

"You don't have to do it on your own," Robin points out, squeezing his waist.

"It is."

"What is going on?" Lucas asks. "Like, why do you need to go to Chicago so bad?"

"It's so far away," Dustin complains.

"Yeah, that's kinda the point," Steve rubs his temple, sighing. "It's a long story, alright? All you need to know is that I made a deal with my parents and I'm not going to uphold my side. I want to get out of dodge before shit explodes."

"Are they threatening you?" Hopper asks.

"Not yet. I don't plan on sticking around to find out."

"What are they threatening you with?" Jonathan asks.

"It doesn't matter."

"We will keep you safe," El says. "You are our friend. We can protect you."

"Thanks, El, but this isn't something you can really protect me from."

"Jesus, just tell us!" Mike snaps.

"Mike!" Nancy scolds.

"What? We can't help him if we don't know what's going on!"

"He has a point," Jonathan says.

"Steve," Eddie starts, stepping closer, speaking softly. "You can trust us. We're here for you."

He hesitates, before finally turning to Robin.

As always, she can read him like a book. She nods, grabbing his hand, dragging him back up the stairs.

"Woah, where are you going?" Nancy calls.

"Bathroom!" Robin calls back, not stopping or slowing down.

Luckily, the bathroom is clear and no one is around to see them both go inside before Robin shuts and locks the door behind them.

She crawls into the tub first, patting the spot next to her. She pulls him tight to her side when he sits next to her, wrapping both arms around him.

"I don't know if I can say it," he finally mumbles after a moment.

"It's ok. Take your time. They can wait."

She rubs circles on his back, unbothered by the dragging silence.

"Do, uh..." Steve clears his throat. "When you were talking about, like, being born lesbian... do you think it's like that with, uh... gender?"

She stills for a moment. She squeezes him, resting her head on his. "I know you were born a man."

"No, Rob, that's what I'm trying to say. I... I wasn't."

"Yes, you were," she insists. "You are a man. Just... some parts haven't always matched. You're still the best guy I know. Always have been. Knowing that people used to wrongly think you were a girl doesn't change that."

He twists, burying his face in her shoulder. "I love you, Robs."

"Love you too, Steve. So much."

"You're too good for me."

"I'm just right for you. And if your parents are threatening you with this, I'm going to kill them."

"They aren't," he says, finally pulling back. "I don't think they will. It'd make them look back too, like, we go down together or whatever. Probably best if I'm not here though. Just in case."

"Mutually assured destruction," Robin hums, squinting at the wall. "We could use that?"

"We?"

"Yeah! If they threaten to expose you, we threaten to expose them too. I mean, those crazy people like to pretend like they care so much about children- imagine how they'd react to your parents letting you transition at such a young age! They'd be ruined!"

"You think the others would go along with that?"

Her expression darkens, glaring at the door. "They better, or I'll have to kill them too."

He snorts, dropping his head back onto her shoulder. "You can't kill everyone that is mean to me."

"I can try."

"Yeah, yeah, you're so scary," he grunts as he climbs out the tub, offering a hand to help her. "So... what are we telling the others?"

"What do you want to tell them?" She grabs his hand, entwining their fingers. "We don't have to tell them anything if you want. They don't have to know if you don't want them to."

"I don't know... I feel like we need to."

"No. If you don't want to tell them, we don't tell them."

He pauses, thinking it over for a moment.

Robin squeezes his hand, patiently waiting.

"We should tell them. I just... I don't know if-"

"-You can do it yourself?" She finishes. "I can, if you want."

"Thanks, Rob."

"Always." She turns to the door, taking a deep breath. "Ready?"

"With you? Hell yeah."

Eddie and Nancy jump to their feet as soon as they start walking down the stairs.

"Are you alright?" Eddie asks.

"Fine," Steve nods. He turns to Robin, who nods back. "But, uh... there's something you should know."

"First," Robin starts, pointing sharply at all of them. "We've faced monsters from another dimension. El can move things with her mind. Steve is not weird at all and, in comparison to all that bullshit, you should understand how norml he is. Alright?"

Steve has to bite back laughter at how stunned everyone looks.

He's pretty sure it works though. He watches all of their reactions as Robin answers as many of their questions as she can, dismissing a lot of them with a simple; "stupid question, next".

When they finally run out of questions, it's Mike who breaks the silence.

"Well, that was dumb and pointless," he says. "Congratulations, Steves a man. We all knew that!"

"Mike-" Nancy snaps, starting towards him.

"No, listen," he shouts, raising his hands. "No one here knows about this apart from his parents and now us, right? Or is there, like, files?"

"No," Steve answers. "They lied and forged what they had to."

"Oh, that could work," Lucas says, looking to Mike.

"What could?" Nancy asks, impatient.

"Everyone sees Steve as a man," Lucas asnwers. "And all the information says he is too-"

"No one would believe them," Mike finishes.

"I've seen your birth cirtificate," Hopper says, nodding. "Everything says you were born male."

"It's their word against reality," Mike says. "They'd look insane."

"No one would believe them," Nancy repeats, grinning.

"Wait, so... what?" Steve asks, feeling a little dazed.

"You're safe," Robin says. "You're safe, Steve. They don't have anything to threaten you with. You're safe."

[arachniee]

✰ The Arbiter of Justice.

Ex Situationship! Alastor x Female! Overlord Reader , Vox x Female! Overlord Reader, Lucifer x Female! Overlord Reader

₊˚✩彡 Summary: Famously known as hell's only demon that can break contracts between other sinners, you were very sought after by those who wish to free themselves from the wretched hands of their soul owners, much to the dismay (annoyance) of the other Overlords.

₊˚✩彡Notes: okay so, i know you're probably wondering why this came out faster than the parts of my other series, lets just say that i absolutely despised the first drafts i had and had to redo and edit some stuff again, but hey, here you go (this is not proofread, you have been warned)

╰⪼ “Those fuckers are back!”

Vox yelled, flailing his arms out with each syllable that left his petty mouth. Great. First, he found out that the radio demon was back from whatever hole in hell he's been hiding in for the last 7 years, and second, that bitch in the shadows made her appearance again after a whole decade! God, isn't his life just fucking great.

Valentino wanted to snicker, mock him because of his childishness. But he couldn't, for he too was not pleased with someone's return. Sure, he could live without Alastor, and yeah, he could live with the radio demon around. He didn't really care about him, it was only Vox who hated Alastor so much to obviously express it. But the Arbiter? Valentino would even thank any exorcist who manages to kill her. Though, he knew not to expect anything. Since the Vee’s have never really laid a scratch on her skin, no matter what they did. 

“I thought she was gone for good too.”

It's been almost 10 years since she left, leaving the Vee’s to assume (hope) that she'd never return and potentially ruin their status. Ever since her sudden disappearance, they've made it their goal to savour this experience, the feeling of making as many contracts as possible without the restraint from that wretched woman who was dubbed the “Arbiter”.

“Can’t this day get any fucking worse?!” 

Vox was fuming, it was very prominent. Of course he'd be angry, a threat has been posed to his business. With the Arbiter’s return, surely he'll lose most of his employees again! And that is NOT happening. And to add to his already boiling anger, the radio demon is back as well. He could feel the temperature of his screen almost overloading, if he doesn't calm down soon, he might even crack his screen. 

It was only a matter of time ‘til the word reached Velvette, and they were sure that she would also be displeased with the news. All these deals and contracts they made to build themselves up, climb the ranks, all of these may potentially be snatched away by the Arbiter again in a matter of time. They can't afford for that to happen, not now, not again, not ever.

“The upcoming Overlord meeting… Are you going to attend?”

Valentino asked, eyebrows furrowed as he waited for Vox’s answer. His question was hinting a very obvious thought, with the return of the radio demon and the arbiter, surely almost every Overlord will be present. No, the Arbiter has never really attended the meeting personally, but they always send a shadow in their place. That's the most interaction a person has with her, aside from those who manage to successfully summon her and make a contract with her for her services. So attending the Overlord meeting and speaking with the shadow would be their only way of communicating with her. That is the only way they'll be able to receive some sort of response. 

Even with how problematic the Arbiter is for them, little to none is known about her. Every person whom she freed from a contract will always do and say the same thing. Their finger pressing to their lips, a eerily soft smile, and a gentle voice that would speak the words;

“Sh, her shadow might hear you!”

Well, that didn't fill up with any context. It was the same actions and answer, no matter how many times a demon would ask them. Did the Arbiter do something to them? Did they say something? Regardless, it was really frustrating. Especially to those who wanted to gather information about her to bring her down. Ehem, the Vee’s, and maybe a few other Overlords.

───〃★

Ever since your disappearance, Alastor and his dear friends were quite bummed (more so than he'd like to admit). And maybe because of the fact that he may favor you more than the others, who knows? But the pain you unknowingly left in his heart was a feeling he could never forget. A feeling he can’t seem to get himself past. Petty, call it as you will. But the memory you engraved in his mind kept him up all night, every night. You consumed him and his thoughts, especially in his sleep.

Which is why he wanted nothing more than to never sleep again.

Despite him not wanting to acknowledge it, he liked you far more than the rest. And he hated himself for it. No matter how hard he tried to avoid any indication of your presence, you still bled into every crevice and corner of this shitty hell hole. Every corner that touched the light and casted shadows, all of it haunted him.

Everything was so similar to you.

So he left. For the longest time, he tried his very best to forget you, spending his time doing who knows what. It has already been 7 years, before he knew it. He knew it was conflicting, but a part of his wretched soul wondered. 

Would you be there on his return?

Most likely not. He hoped that you wouldn’t. But he also hoped to see you, even just once. A single glance at you would’ve made him crumble. The wall that he built to keep romance away, it’ll all come crashing down, without a doubt. 

“Alastor? What’s botherin’ you, dear?” 

A feminine voice cut through the thick tension in the room, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. Ah, he almost forgot he was in his dear friend’s Emporium. Well, it wasn’t entirely his fault his thoughts wandered off, especially after seeing a picture with a familiar face on it. 

“Oh, worry not, Dear Rosie! Nothing a little work can’t handle!’

He assured her, that wide, signature smile of his visibly staring back at the woman. She mirrored it, though she seemed a little less hostile, even with her razor sharp teeth. She had been worried since Alastor left, of course, but what worried her more was how she’d often find him in a daze, seemingly unaware of everything around. Now, in hell, being unaware of your surroundings is the last thing you want. It’s not like she was doubting his strength and power, oh no. But she really can’t help it. She’s often the one taking care of everyone, so naturally, she wants to be there for him out of instinct. 

“Well, it certainly doesn’t look like it, Cerf.”

A husky voice piped in, peeking from behind the couch that Rosie and the radio demon sat on. Another figure, who seemingly appeared to be a more masculine version of the Cannibal District’s leader. Same pitch black eyes, pale skin and mop of greyish pink stands. Adorned with a rather lavish suit and a light colored fedora that contrasted Rosie’s more pinkish hat. 

“As sharp as always, I see you are!”

“Oh come on, pumpkin! We gotta give Alastor his own personal space, okay? If he doesn’t wanna talk about it then we won’t force him.” 

Rosie interrupted, glancing behind her to finally eye the person that the voice belonged to. The previous smile on her face seemed to grow, of course, why wouldn’t it? Looking at her younger brother has always been pleasing to her, especially since they look too much alike.

“I am well aware, my Rosa. Must you always treat me as an unknowing child?” 

Her younger brother sighed, momentarily closing his eyes and shaking his head left and right, his greyish pink locks swaying with each movement. 

“But my dear, it seems that you are!” 

The radio demon replied to his question. This was one of the ways Alastor tried, in hopes of forgetting you. Spending time with his dearest friends was something he cherished, especially with how much he saw that they genuinely cared for him. But it was a bittersweet feeling. 

How differently would things be if you were still here?

“Word has it that she has finally returned.” 

The same figure from behind the two seated Overlords exclaimed, tone now an octave lower and stirring with an unknowing emotion. Was he trying to be cautious? Or was he trying to not be insensitive towards Alastor’s feelings? Well, whatever the reason, this topic was bound to surface in their conversations anytime soon, so might as well talk about it now.

“My Riose, that is not something you must bring up so suddenly!” 

The said young man let out a huff of air, out of amusement or interest, not quite sure. Gosh, he certainly is still like a child in the two Overlords’ eyes. With a shrug, Riose decided to change the topic. Man, he was expecting to hear more stories about the Arbiter, but that can wait another time perhaps. Once the radio demon has fully moved on, he supposed. 

Alastor knew you were back, he has connections after all. But he hated how he hoped so much that you’d meet again, after all these years. But that was closer to impossible, to be honest. He’s accepted that fact, not fully, but he’s trying. Trying to move on, trying to forget you.

Though Riose had a feeling that he’d share this stuff with you and tell you about the shit the radio demon has been ranting to him and his sister, and unfortunately, you don’t know if you want to let Alastor go yet.

[magua-vida]

SLAY THE QUEEN THORN

I was inspired by Abby's sketch of a hypothetical Queen version of the Princess, so I tried my hand at it with a few vessels, including this one. I... ended up drawing something akin to a fashion design concept art rather than a practical design that won't be tiring to draw over and over after a handful of sprites later. I also had to use a bit more artistic license growing unnatural poppies on the dress and the thick twirly prickly noodles.

some explanations behind the process

For the "mended" Thorn, I pretty much just removed the foreground thorns and added the dirt.

rambling/fangirling/screenshots below:

The Thorn is one of my favorites. If I had to choose only five vessels to offer to Shifty and there's no replayable feature, she'll definitely be one of them. I'm one of those suckers who's into Hurt/Comfort stories. Almost like a masochist for those fics, you could say. If the climax to an Action-heavy story is the defeat of one party, then the catharsis of Hurt/Comfort is when the two characters... well, comfort each other- either due to hurt from each other or someone else. In The Thorn's case, she started off rather innocently, Damsel-like, but not quite. She still had caution. It was until she was literally stabbed in the back that she learned that it was a mistake. And when Long Quiet offered sincere regret and admission of fault, she stabbed him... but she didn't feel the relief she thought she'd get from it. I think many relate to having been betrayed and/or betraying someone they trusted, and the scratches are felt by many players.

The thorns curve inward, as if it's more painful to leave her than it is to approach her.

Poppies grow around along the bramble. Many mistook them for roses because they're red and there are brambles (tbh, I actually dunno if they're brambles or briars, I looked them up and I got confused, forgive me, plant enthusiasts ;.;) that grow around the patches of those poppies. Death and romance~

This brings back to Chapter 1 where Hero was kinda-sorta-maybe-definitely crushing on the Princess and wants to give her the benefit of the doubt, not only because of feelings, but for a reasonable cause of wanting to rescue someone who possibly may actually be a victim of circumstance.

Look, I have reasons why Thorn route is one of my favorites and it definitely doesn't have anything to do with both characters having massive trust issues and the capability to change themselves for better or worse and the emotional moments hitting me like a lovely diamond-dusted dagger. Both of them are rather cat-like with pointy ears too.

I appreciate that you're still given the options to leave or stab Thorn, as if the situation isn't pitiable enough. Even her tiara looks like a crown of thorns. It's as if she views the thorns as both a form of penance and a defence mechanism to protect herself from being hurt again, even though she's hurt by her own making this time.

I chose for the Long Quiet to save her and leave the cabin together.

This part stabbed me the most. Even when shown genuine help, she shrinks back.

This part burns a bit of the jadedness away. Trust is a scary thing, so is love. How can you be so sure that you won't be hurt by the one you love again? But just like what The Prisoner says, it's about trust- blind trust. Thorn looks more human than her previous self- less animalistic, softer. A part of The Damsel returns, even in the music.

I recall weighing on whether I prefer the version with the Voice of the Cheated or Voice of the Smitten. I vaguely remember wondering if there was an option to ask her if it's okay to kiss her. I guess the ideal would be is to have that choice, but I suppose the climactic moment calls for it and she doesn't mind it, at least. It's like the option to hug Astarion from BG3, but you're not sure whether he'd be comfy with it after being hurt so much. He gave approval for it too~

As much as Thorn is one of my favorites, I'm not attracted to her and any of the vessels. Instead, I ship her with the Long Quiet- the character himself. I don't really see myself AS the Long Quiet, more like choosing what actions on what he does and I separate myself from him a lot for many reasons. It's a bit like the Harry situation from Disco Elysium in terms of seemingly blank-slate protagonists.

Instead, I kinda put myself into her situation to feel how she felt in this route. The poppies not only felt symbolic of her nature as part of the Shifting Mound, but also specifically the end of the mutual treachery you've inflicted on each other, potentially beginning anew on a path of healing.

==============ramble-bramble over===================

[the-monstermash]

UNBROKEN BETROTHALS pt. 3

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken

Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, 18+, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language

Word Count: 2, 031

> A/N: Catch the corny tie-in at the end of the chapter. I think maybe one more chapter will wrap up this story.

You were in a bout of disbelief. You'd not left your room in days, taking your meals and guests in the rooms. Sylvi was obviously angry with you, because she’d said nothing about you not cooking. She likely had already hired a new cook to replace you, no doubt planning to kick you out the moment you stepped outside again. Where would you go? Back to the Riverlands was always an option, but you were afraid of what you might find if you returned.

How could you not be? Your entire life you had thought of your parents as betrayers. You'd thought they'd wished to sell you off to some disgusting man, to rid themselves of the burden of you. In reality, what choice had they truly had? To reject the king would be dishonorable, not to mention impossible. They would’ve had to respond immediately, to agree in your stead.

How could you ever think so lowly of them? They'd given you so much love in your youth, how would they ever do something so cruel if they'd had the choice not to? Were they heartbroken at the loss of a daughter? Did they think you dead? Or did they accept that you just didn't want to be with them anymore, and you'd left for a better life. Were they still looking for you? You didn't know which was worse.

And then there was Aemond.

Why had he cared so much? You were of no great house, and your marriage would be of no benefit to him. Your running away should've been to his relief, not his anger. Then, for him to track you down, and push his intentions on you. What was the purpose?

The knock on the door did not make you rise from the bed as it would've a week ago, and you did not call to the visitor like you would've a week ago. Instead, you waited for whoever it was to either let themselves in, or go away. You'd be happy with either one.

The creak of the solid door told you they'd chosen the former.

"Are you awake?" Lauryn's voice pulled a sigh from you. 

She'd come with more questions, or to gossip about what was happening outside of your room.

"If I was not before, your presence has brought me a sense of invigoration." You smiled sadly, patting the bed for her to enter.

She stepped inside the room, but did not cross the distance. Her absence in the door frame was filled with another. A much taller, blonder, guest, that put much more dread in you than she had.

"Lauryn, what is this?" You sat up, crossing your arms and pulling the blankets up to cover your nightclothes. He stepped into the center of the room, hands behind his back, looking around to take in the sight.

"He's demanded to see you." We can not deny him, is what she said with her eyes. You nodded at her and she quickly fled the room, closing the door behind her.

The silence was not comfortable, nor was it unwelcome. You knew if he spoke, it would be about the betrothal, and that would make you think of your family, and you would be back to worrying for your dear family and how they were fairing. You felt so vulnerable, wrapped up in your blankets and nightclothes before him, all alone.

"My prince, you wanted to see me?" You propped your knees to your chest, sure you looked like a big pile of sheets with a head on top to him.

"I wanted to see you were well." He finally took his eyes off your meager decorations, and looked at you. "Have you had any more spells?" You shook your head.

"I'm quite well."

"And have you thought any more of my words?" You sighed, exasperated, but relenting to the fact that he simply would not let this go.

"Of course I have. It's all I've thought about, holed up in this room. That, and where I'll go once Sylvi casts me from my home. Because of you." You wanted to yell, but you just did not have the energy.

"Me?"

"If you'd just accepted my answer, she would have gotten past it. But you pursued, and chased, and you would not relent."

"I'd relented the first time you rejected me, how many rejections did you expect I would take?"

"Relenting would've been leaving me be, not seeking me out here when you knew I was content."

"I did not come here for you, you happened to be here." You rolled your eyes.

"I *happened* to be in a kitchen, hidden away from everyone where *you* found me in search of 'wine’? There was wine everywhere up front, it is a whore house! You knew I was here, and you found me, because you could not accept the rejection. You sought me out, you said so yourself." He blanched at you repeating his words to him. Perhaps he thought you did not remember your last conversation.

"So I sought you out. What is the crime in it? You were my betrothed, and I would not have you running about the world any longer. I demand to know why you rejected me so long ago, and why you reject me now. I am more than suitable for you, and you should have been proud to serv-"

"I did not know it was you!" You silenced him with your yell. "I did not run away from marrying you, I ran away...because I thought my parents were to send me off to some gray man I did not know, and force me to wed him, and I would spend my whole life with some old Lord who did not love me, and I would never live! I was a child, and I was afraid, Aemond."

He was silent for a moment, before sighing and coming to sit at the edge of your bed.

"And why do you refuse me now?"

"I guess I thought if I married you, then I might as well have married the first man. It would've saved me a lot of trouble, and made my family proud, at the very least." He nodded at that and looked away. "Why do you want me so badly?"

He tilted his head, thinking for a second before shrugging his shoulders. You scoffed at that and stretched your legs to leave room for your crossed arms, not believing that he was just pointlessly pursuing you.

"I've had enough rejection for one lifetime. I'll not have any more." It was a simple answer, and given the past you knew of him, you supposed it made sense. He'd been refused a dragon, friends, a father, a crown. You could see how when you, a simple girl from nowhere, rejected him, it might have confounded him, and tipped him over the edge. He seemed deep in thought, or perhaps deep in memory, and before your eyes you saw him regress into the young boy he'd been, when all he knew was hurt and rejection.

In a way, you pitied Aemond. He had led a sad life, but he'd also led a privileged life. and that privileged life often made people overlook the hurt he'd faced as a child. He was a prince, and that made him revered and respected in many aspects, but he was also a scared, hurt little boy, with no respect from his peers and no one to truly turn to.

"I suppose I can understand that." He turned to you, his lips turning up in acknowledgement before he gently laid his head in your lap.

It surprised you, though it shouldn't have. He was desperate for appreciation and affection. That was why he was here, after all, begging you to reconsider marriage to him.

You had reconsidered it over these past few days. You'd thought it over in a hundred different ways, and truthfully, without the added angst of your parental situation, you really had no reason to say no to his proposal. He was a perfectly respectable husband, and with his doting nature, you'd thought he'd treat you quite well. You could see yourself content with him, if not happy.

"I suppose marriage wouldn't be so bad if my husband were agreeable." You gently found yourself petting his hair, making him close his eye.

"Hm." Was his simple answer, a hum of content, yet it prompted you to elaborate.

"He would have to be kind, of course. And perhaps handsome, though not superficial. I would like him to be strong, and brave. Though, not to the point of recklessness. Perhaps a Stark." You looked down at him with a playful smile, and he responded with a chortle. "You're right, I do hate the cold." You scratched at his scalp.

"You'll make an exceptional wife, and I'll make you happy." He turned onto his back so he was looking up at you, his soft eyes gazing up at you.

He truly was beautiful. His features were in total opposition, his long, soft hair, sharp jaw, and sweet eyes all combined to make a statuesque deity laid before you. His hair was almost pearlescent in the way the fire flickered across him, changing the hues in a second, and blending in oranges and reds and magnificent  yellows.

You could not think of a way to tell him you were conceding, and he'd finally won. You just smiled down at him and nodded.

"I need to see my parents." Your voice broke at the mere idea, and he nodded immediately, sitting up and turning to hold your face.

"I'll see it's done. We'll call them to King's Landing."

"Thank you, Aemond.”

He tilted himself just slightly, enough for you to understand what he was asking for. You leaned in enough to meet your lips to his in a soft and gentle kiss. You rest your hand on his jaw, and the other on his chest. He pushed himself against you more to deepen the kiss, pushing you back onto your hands.

His kiss was desperate, and held an air of pure satisfaction. It was not overly rushed, but deep and passionate. You could feel him pour his soul into it, like a beautiful piece of poetry. Every suckle was a sonnet, every sigh a sestina. He pulled your body to his, and it was a haiku, consisting of syllables only spoken in physical language. And you hung onto every single word.

You pulled away for air, but he didn't let you get far, holding his hand to the back of your head, your forehead pressed against his. Your bodies still moved in sync, rising and falling with breath, slowly calming yourselves back down.

"We'll marry as soon as your parents arrive. The very same day."

"Shouldn't you ask the king? I’m sure your family won’t relish  the thought of a prince marrying a common cook. You could marry at a much higher advantage for the war."

"There is nothing common about you. And besides, my father already approved the marriage all those years ago. My brother won't deny me." You nodded.

"I'll see you again? Before the wedding? Promise you'll come see me." He raised his eyebrow at that, clearly confused about something you'd said.

"You're coming to the castle with me, are you not, my Lady?" The title made you chew your lip, you had not heard it in a very long time. “I’ll not have my wife sleep in a brothel any longer, I’ve suffered it long enough.”

“This brothel is my home, and you’ve had no trouble turning in a night or two if I remember correctly. Besides, I wouldn’t want to offend your family by assuming I was welcome. You should confirm the betrothal first with the king.” He sighed and turned away, but came up with no argument.

“I’ll be back for you, in a week’s time-at most. Say your goodbyes, pack your things. Prepare to be a princess of the seven kingdoms.” He stood and leaned for one last kiss.

“I’ll be waiting, my prince.”

And with one more lasting stroke of your cheek, he left to unbreak the betrothal you’d abandoned so long ago.

@mamawiggers1980 @dahlias-and-marigolds @starrflowerr @aemondwhoresworld

[thatonebirdwrites]

L-Corp and chilled scotch

The scotch pours into her cup, the chill saturates through the glass, and the temptation to just throw the glass and drink directly from the bottle taunts her yet again. She resists.

Unlike her ability to resist Kara.

Kara Danvers or rather Supergirl, the hero that is the beloved of National City.

And a habitual liar.

She throws back the scotch, the cool temperature a balm across the burn of the alcohol. Hope sits on her desk, a swirling cubical sculpture, that offers up yet another simulation for Lena to attempt.

Or would have.

The doors swing open with a bang, and Samantha Arias stands there, an expression of fury on her usually smug or gentle expressions.

"Lena Kieran Luthor," she snaps. "I am sick of you dodging my phone calls."

"Oh?" She pours herself another drink and wishes she'd told Jess to not allow anyone into her office. She'd forgotten Sam had full access to her still.

"Normally I'd just roll with it." Sam slams the doors shut, marches over and plucks the glass right out of Lena's hands. "But to ghost Ruby? Your goddaughter?"

So that's the source of Sam's fury. Lena crosses her arms over her chest.

"Now that I won't allow. Ruby adores you, Lena, and you do not get to ice her out like this."

"It's better for her," Lena starts to say, but Sam does the unthinkable. She dumps the scotch into the garbage. "Hey! That's damn good scotch you're wasting!"

"I don't want to have this talk if you're drunk." Sam sighs and presses flips her hair over her shoulder. "I think it's time Ruby and I returned to National CIty, Lena."

"No, you're will not." Lena scowls. "You have Metropolis."

"And what good is that if my best friend is currently ghosting her goddaughter, drinking her life away, and apparently mismanaging L-Corp's funds?" Sam stabs her finger at Lena's chest. "Don't think I haven't noticed that either. What the hell has you this worked up? Is it Kara?"

Lena attempts to school her face in time but the shock of Sam's very accurate guess slips out for a brief second. Long enough for Sam to catch it.

"It is Kara." The fury that Sam rode in with switches to concern. "Lena, whatever happened? You don't have to face it alone. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."

"You don't know what I've done, Sam," Lena says flatly. She doesn't want Sam's pity. "Would you want a murderer interacting with Ruby?"

Sam flips her hair over her shoulder again and does a rather dashing pose that reminds Lena far too much of Reign. "Guess whose body murdered dozens and destabilized Earth's climate? Yup, that's me!"

"It wasn't really you," Lena protests.

"Does it matter?" Sam gestures to the sofa, and when Lena doesn't move, she, far more gently than Lena deserves, pushes her down and settles next to her. "Reign, in my body, tried to kill Ruby. There are times Ruby looks at me, and I see fear in her eyes. That's not something we can just erase from her memory, Lena. My hands are coated in blood regardless of who did it. I must live with that, so whatever you've done? It can't be worse than that."

"I killed my brother, Sam," Lena blurts out, and is appalled at herself. She's never said it out loud like this before. Not since she shot Lex, saw his proof of Kara Danvers = Supergirl, and then lit the whole bunker on fire, sealing it forever in concrete and metal with the DNA lock. "Took my pistol, and shot him right in the chest. My own brother. And I did it thinking I was saving Kara, saving the world. But I was a fool." She looks away and reaches for the scotch.

Sam puts it out of her reach and grasps her hands instead. "You're not a fool," she says, softly. "You did what you thought was right."

"Right," Lena sneers. "What even is rightness? Do you know what it feels like to hold the pistol in your hands, Sam? To feel its heft? To smell the gunpowder, hear the bang, the gush of blood? What of that metallic smell? The acidic smoke of a body burning?"

Sam continues to hold her hands, her thumb rubbing back and forth, but she says nothing. Only tilts her head, listening.

It infuriates Lena, but she doesn't want Sam to let go. She feels unmoored, her entire body vibrating with a vicious energy, where she wants those that hurt her to bleed. But Kara can't bleed. She stronger than goddamn steel. No, she can only rip Kara apart, so that Kara has nothing. Just like Kara's damn secret did to Lena's heart.

"As he coughs up blood," she uses the most descriptive language she can in hopes it'll convince Sam to give up on her, "he dragged himself to his computer, turned on the TVs, and showed me exactly who Kara Danvers is. Lex with his dying breaths, his blood filled lungs, said I've been a goddamn fool. Unable to see what was right in front of my eyes." The tears sting her eyes, and that makes her even more angry.

Still Sam doesn't say anything.

"Say something, Sam!" Lena snaps. "Tell me that I'm a monster! A murderer. A villain! It's apparently what Kara thinks. She lied to me again and again, and this whole time she was Supergirl. Probably keeping me, the Luthor, close to make sure I stay in line. So let's be honest, let's lay it all out, don't we? I'm a villain. My family are villains, that's all I'll ever be."

Sam sighs. "No, Lena. No you were never the villain. You've always been the hero. I wouldn't be here if not for you. Ruby wouldn't be here. None of us would. You've saved so many a thousand times over." Her words rain onto Lena's desiccated heart, and the tears threaten to overflow. "And no you are not like your family. I don't know what Kara's deal is. Why she kept that truth from you, but I do know you. And you can't and won't ever be a villain."

"I killed my own brother, Sam," Lena argues.

"Yes, you told me. That doesn't make you a villain." Sam leans closer, her brown eyes intense. "I know that can change a person. Taking a life like that? It's not easy to bear. It sucks, I know."

"You don't even remember what Reign did," Lena says, irritated.

"I do actually. Not all of it, but..." The haunted look in Sam's eye floods Lena with guilt and a hint of disbelief. "When you were working to find the cure in your lab, before Supergirl barged in on us, I -- I started to recall bits and pieces. Then you somehow got both of us in that other dimension. Reign tried very hard to convince me to let go and embrace her. She pushed the memories on me. The crunch of bones in my hands, the nauseating metallic scent, the lifeless eyes still wide with fear. That -- that doesn't leave me."

"Oh." Lena's anger slowly fades into a confusing mire of bitterness and worry. "You didn't mention it."

"How could I?" Sam blinked away her own tears and gave Lena a pained smile. "I was panicking. I remember how you held me. How you reassured me that you would find a cure. You gave me hope that I wouldn't be just an alien weapon. So no, Lena, no matter what you've done, you can't be a villain. You saved me and the world, and I'm not going to let you forget it."

Lena looks down at their hands. She still hasn't pulled away from Sam's gentle touch. "Even if I'm plotting revenge? To make Kara hurt like she hurt me?"

"Even then."

"Revenge is for villains," Lena protests. Sam gives her a look that spells out how she definitely doesn't agree. Frustrated, Lena pushes forward. "Look, I've even dragged Andrea into my plot--"

"The one who viciously betrayed you?" Sam's eyebrows rose.

"The one and same. Gave her Catco." Lena couldn't hide her bitterness from her voice. "I bought it for Kara anyway. Might as well give it to someone who isn't qualified to lead it. Let it tank. Let Kara feel the pain of it. Then I'll unveil her true identity at her damn award ceremony, so the whole world can see her lies."

"Okay." Sam wraps an arm around Lena's shoulders. "So when is this ceremony?"

Lena blinks at Sam, surprised. "You're not going to talk me out of this?"

"I know you, Lena. And I know your heart. When the moment comes, you'll do the right thing. You always do." Sam smiles and the warmth of her arm melts some of the chill that had coated Lena's heart since her brother's death.

"So you're helping me." Lena isn't quite sure what to make of this development.

"I said I got your back, and I meant it."

That fractures Lena just enough that the tears escape. Sam draws her into a hug, and for the first time in weeks since her brother's death, Lena weeps.

***

The Pulitzer ceremony happens in the Art Museum downtown, their theatrical stage converted into a cocktail party. The dishes mostly variations of either French cuisine or potstickers. Thanks to Sam's assistance, Lena wove herself into the planning committee and convinced them to let her give the speech and the award to Kara herself.

Far too easy. At least for the planning portion. Andrea showed up several times to try to convince Lena to give away the surprise sooner, but Lena's firm handling of Andrea shut that down. She'd sent Andrea to Sam for an exclusive interview.

Sam, who would soon become the next CEO of the entirety of L-corp, while Lena stepped down into a pure research consultation position.

That had been Sam's idea, mostly to fix the hemorrhaging of funds issue, so Lena didn't end up investigated by the FBI. Last thing she needed right now, so instead, she'll use her private wealth and L-Corps science grants to fund her projects.

Today, she stands on the balcony, her fingers tapping through the evidence she'd found on the last of Lex's servers. The rest of his servers she'd hacked and deleted until all that was left was what she had stored in this particular tablet.

The rest of her plan involved a carefully written speech about honesty and truth, so when the news breaks, the juxaposition of her words against the truth of Kara's lies will surely destroy her like Kara's lie had destroyed Lena.

She'd practiced her speech in front of Sam and Ruby, though Ruby still had no idea why Lena was so bitter toward Kara. Sam didn't convince her to alter any parts of it, though she did ask one question that haunted Lena still:

"Is this your truth or a half-lie for Kara's sake?"

Lena had scoffed and said the latter, but Sam tilted her head as if not believing her. All her years of Luthor upbringing could not fool Sam, who somehow pierced through to her real feelings with just one look.

Now she overlooks the guests who mill about the extravagantly decorated room. The scent of savory food wafts up from below, the wine already heavy in her stomach. Kara keeps looking up at her from where she speaks with Alex and Kelly, and Lena does her best to ignore each glance.

Every time Kara looks away, Lena looks down at her and wonders. Was anything Kara shared real? Was it all an act? Those questions haunt her as much as Sam's, and she turns and walks into the backstage area.

To her dismay, Kara finds her there. Of all places for Kara to show up. Lena schools her features into delight for Kara as she speaks of how she plans to give the award speech.

Except Kara does the exact thing Lena assumed she'd never do.

She takes off her glasses. "I'm Supergirl!" Words tumble from Kara's mouth in an avalanche. "And I'm so, so sorry. I should have told you ages ago, but I loved being just Kara with you. And I was afraid to lose you, and I can't lose you. So I thought I could be just Kara with you, and I convinced myself I wouldn't lose you then.... but I've been a fool. So selfish. I've been lying to myself too. I thought I was protecting you, but I've been hurting you, haven't I? And I can't bear that. Gosh, Lena, I'm so sorry." Her tears smudging her makeup, and the repeated apology sear into Lena.

For once in her life, Lena has no idea what to say or think. Is this also an act?

"Please, Lena, say something," Kara begs.

And yet, Lena can't.

Kara apologized. Kara finally told her the truth.

What can she do with this? Surely it's not real. Just another ploy. Kara must know Lena knows. She must have slipped up somewhere, given away a clue.

And yet, the earnest grief in Kara's expression, the way she says "I just wanted to be Kara with you. Just Kara. I'm so sorry. I was wrong to lie to you all this time."

The way she begs Lena to speak, it all collides with Lena, and she feels breathless, on the verge of tears.

What does Kara even mean? To admit the wrongdoing? To admit she was being selfish?

Lex would never do such a thing. Lillian would scoff at the idea that she could be wrong.

So what does it mean for Kara to admit she was wrong? To admit she lied? To admit she had hung with Lena to play the role of human? The apology, the tears, the desperate longing in Kara's voice is unlike any apology Lena has ever heard.

She can't process it.

The host catches Lena's eye and taps his wrist. "It's almost time."

Lena takes the opportunity and steps around Kara. Her feet move for her, and she follows the host to the back of the stage, hidden by the red curtains. She hurriedly wipes the tears from her eyes, and touches up her make-up.

The truth in the tablet weighs heavy in her hands. She steps onto stage at her cue and places the tablet on the podium. The send button glares up at her, and her fingers hover over it.

The crowd lines up in rows in front of the stage. Kara stands next to Alex and Nia. Kelly, Brainy, and J'onn stand off to one side, and in the corner of the crowd, leaning against a pillar, Sam stands.

Kara's eyes are still red from her tears, her make-up fixed.

The speech rolls off Lena's tongue like sour candy. She's practiced it enough that the emotive moments come out as planned.

It's Sam's expression that cuts Lena far more than the rising hope in Kara's. Sam's expression burns with an intensity, as if she sees into Lena's soul, knows exactly her indecision.

Lena's finger hovers. One tap and the whole world will know the truth.

And yet her finger refuses to touch the screen.

Kelly glances between her and Kara, her brow furrowed. Does she know?

Alex knows definitely.

Does Brainy? He stands rigid slightly behind Nia, where the young reporter smiles up at Lena. Did they know?

J'onn has his arms crossed, and surely he knew.

Was any of her 'friends' real?

Beyond them, the crowd shifts and edges closer. Dozens of faces upturned to hear her speech, to hear her speak of the virtues of Kara, to listen to her extol on honesty and truth, and to lay that at Kara's feet.

As if Kara was truthful and honest. As if she truly deserved this award.

And yet, her heart betrays her. She drops her hand next to the tablet. Pauses to take a breath. This is it. She needs to do it now, but her hand doesn't hit send. Instead, she exits the program, picks up the award from its case, and steps out from behind the podium.

"And so I present to Kara, the Pulitzer Prize, for her truthful reporting of my brother's deadly actions, and for unveiling the reality of bigotry against alien communities." She stresses 'alien' and looks at Kara.

Kara, the one person who somehow broke through all her defenses, her stole away her heart faster than anyone prior. Even with Jack, the love had been a slow build, but with Kara? Lena had fallen for her in that first meeting in her office.

How could she not? Kara's warmth, how she'd admitted to understanding Lena's situation, an understanding Lena thought she'd never have beyond Jack and Sam.

Memories of their times together deluges Lena, and tears escape. She wants it all to be real so badly.

Kara steps forward, hope in her expression, and that tears Lena's heart even more.

With shaking hands she gives the award to Kara. In front of everyone, in front of the cameras, in front of the world watching this very moment, Kara grasps her arms instead.

"Lena," she says, her voice trembling, "Lena, thank you. I -- I couldn't do this without you. I can't do this without you."

The words leap from her lips, unplanned, unscripted. Her heart betraying her yet again. "You will always have me as a friend."

Kara sweeps her into a hug, presses a kiss to Lena's forehead, and she can't help but sink into the warmth.

She wants this to be real.

Oh god, she needs this to be real.

But the pain of the lie overshadows her, and she struggles against tears. Struggles to hold back her grief, her agony.

Her shattered heart cuts her to pieces, her body a betrayal, and yet she doesn't want to let go. Doesn't care who sees her. She wants this to be real.

She needs this to be real. She needs Kara.

And yet, Kara destroyed her. Destroyed her more than the gunshot to Lex's chest.

She pulls back, her body trembling, and she presses a kiss to Kara's cheek. Kara's sharp intake of breath slices deep, coils in Lena's belly. How can she resist Kara?

Why can't this be real?

The universe takes pity on her. An alien bursts into the room through a bubbling silver-blue portal. Energy arcs toward them, and Kara shifts them so it hits her back. They tumble in a heap to the ground, the wind knocked out of Lena's lungs. Her tablet goes skidding into the curtains. She gasps as pain briefly shoots up her back.

Kara sweeps Lena to her feet, and pushes her into the curtains. They stumble out of sight.

Kara rips off her glasses. Nanites ripples over clothes, and the supersuit -- pants edition -- blooms over her body. "I got this. Please, get to safety, Lena."

Alex and J'onn calmly give orders, while Kara -- as Supergirl -- bursts out from the curtains to tackle the other alien.

Lena snags her tablet and stumbles through the backstage, dazed. Her head spins from where she'd hit the floorboards. Her path takes her away from the clamor of fighting, and she tumbles into a side gallery. There a growing crowd, guided by Alex and several security guards, stream toward an exit sign.

Kelly reaches her side before Sam. "Are you all right?" Kelly looks her over with the practiced eye of a medic.

Lena nods, but when Sam wraps an arm around her as if sensing her unsteadiness. She lets herself lean against Sam. Lets her and Kelly guide her to safety. Behind her, the crashes shake the floor under them. The walls crack.

Alex orders the guards to continue evacuating, pauses only to kiss Kelly's cheek, and rushes into the other room.

This isn't real.

Whatever she has with Kara, it can't be real.

Kelly turns to her, and her question cuts through Lena's shock. "Where's Kara?"

Lena stares at Kelly.

"Wasn't she with you?" Kelly scans the crowd, worried.

Kelly doesn't know. The truth takes the breath from Lena's lungs. Kelly doesn't know.

Lena isn't the last after all.

Sam puts a hand on Kelly's shoulder. "I'm sure Alex reached her."

Kelly shook her head. "How? She was guiding the others out."

Lena watches herself say, "Kara is safe. She ducked backstage." A lie that protects Kara and only leaves Kelly further in the dark.

"I'll send security her way then. She needs to get out safely." Kelly turns and snags a guard.

Lena watches Kelly say, "Can you look for Kara Danvers? Last seen backstage." Watches and says nothing.

Sam's hand grips her shoulder. "You kept her secret," she whispered.

Sam doesn't know what Lena did with the tablet. Lena looks down at the tablet still in her hand. She could still do it. Andrea waits for her transfer at Catco.

Instead, she slams the tablet against the wall. It cracks the screen. Again and again she shatters it. The pieces tumble to the ground, only stopping when Sam grasps her hand and pulls the wrecked tablet from her grip.

Numerous people have turned to stare at her, but a guard breaks the sudden stillness with a sharp command, "Move now!"

Another boom shakes the side room, and the panicked whispering, the urgent rush begins again.

Sam takes her arm and leads her to the exit.

Kelly follows, and they tumble out of the museum into daylight. The chorus of the city saturates Lena's senses, and the words from Sam and Kelly are drowned in the rumble of engines, calls of birds, panicked cries from the crowd, the yelling of fervent guards.

Lena sees only the look of hope in Kara's eyes. She closes her eyes, sways, and the moment overtakes her. She faints.

***

Sam and Kelly sit on the lip of the ambulance, while Lena endures the examination of a paramedic. She says nothing, doesn't explain her faint, only deals with the tests.

The IV fluids chill her veins, but she doesn't refuse like normal.

Why did she lie to Kelly? Why did she keep Kara's secret?

Andrea will be livid. She has nothing to give Andrea now. The only evidence lay on the destroyed tablet.

Why? She has no answer to her own question.

Someone speaks to her, but the words dance around her. It takes several long minutes before the words collapse into meaning in her brain.

"-- possible shock." The paramedic speaks.

"I know." Sam sounds tired and worried. "But she's very much against hospitals. I can take her to her private doctor for those tests."

"I'm a certified medic," Kelly adds. "I can handle it if she won't go in." She gently puts a hand on Lena's shoulder. "Unless you are all right with --"

"No." The word comes with great difficulty. "I do not need the hospital." She feels as if she watches someone else speak with her lips.

Sam takes control and tucks her into her car.

Kelly rides with them, and they head to Lena's private doctor. Despite her worry for Alex, Kelly stays with Lena. Speaks to her gently. Offers kind words of support. Briefly texts Alex, but Lena sees the text and it contains nothing about Lena's situation.

"Thank you." Lena shivers and wraps the blanket tighter around herself. It's white, the fabric scratchy, but its from the ambulance so she doesn't expect any better. "I --" Lena can't finish the sentence.

She feels caught in a loop.

Why couldn't she do it?

The plan had been flawless. Perfect.

And yet, here she was, keeping Kara's secret. She was now an accomplice, and this time it was Kelly she kept in the dark. Unless Kelly too was an actress. No, she can't let that continue, can she? Can she truly do this to another?

Wouldn't keeping the lie only hurt Kelly like it hurts Lena now? No, she can't do that to Kelly.

She waits until the blood tests are taken, until after her doctor looks her over and orders to take a few days of rest, until Kelly and Sam lead her into her penthouse.

As soon as the door shuts, she turns to Kelly and asks the fateful question. "Did you know Kara is Supergirl?"

Kelly blinks and stares at Lena. "What?"

"Did you know too? Did everyone now but me?" She wants to be angry. To draw forth the pain into a blade of fury, but her words come out broken.

She wanted Kara to bleed and yet she'd failed.

Kelly shakes her head. "Are we talking about Kara Danvers? Her?"

Sam sighs. "I'm making us tea. Rest means laying down, Lena." She points to the sofa.

Lena frowns but dutifully sits down.

Kelly stands in the entryway still. "Alex never said," she says, finally.

"Kara only told me today," Lena admits. For that is the truth. "Right before my speech."

"I see." Kelly meets Lena's gaze. "I had no idea. I'm sorry, Lena. Are you all right? To learn something that jarring about your girlfriend? I -- I know how painful that can be."

Girlfriend? Lena stares at Kelly. Girlfriend?

Kelly thinks Kara and her are dating?

Lena's thoughts screech to a halt. "No," she says and lays down. She rests her arm over her eyes, and shuts out everyone. Whatever Kelly or Sam say, she ignores. She refuses food, refuses everything, and curls up under the shitty blanket.

***

Two days huddled on the sofa, and Lena feels like a truck has driven over her back again and again. Her sofa is perhaps the worst thing in the universe for sleeping, but Lena hadn't felt like getting up.

Sam stayed. Ruby joins them, and between the two of them, they coax Lena into eating and drinking some juice.

Sadly, no scotch. Sam hid it.

At one point, Kara shows up, but Sam turns her away. Alex comes by next, and Sam turns her away too.

"Aunt Lena," Ruby sits next to her as they watch a documentary on the wall television. "Are you feeling sick still?"

Lena looks at the thirteen year old. Is that what Sam told Ruby? In a sense, she feels like death warmed over, even if it's not a physical illness. The anger that had fueled her plan had collapsed into a malaise so deep that Lena wishes she could just cease existing.

"Yes." It's the most she's spoken in two days.

"We can make your favorite soup again. I've gotten better at it. Mom's been teaching me." Ruby attempts a smile. "And I made you something. Maybe it'll help you feel better?" Ruby digs into her backpack, that sits at her feet, and pulls out a framed drawing.

Lena takes it and tears overwhelm her.

It's a drawing of Sam, Ruby, and herself in the L-Corp office. The colors are vibrant, the expressions emotive, and it's beautiful. The last time someone had given her art was Kara.

"What do you think?" Ruby's words hold uncertainty.

Lena grasps Ruby's hand. "It's beautiful," she says, softly. "Thank you." The pre-teen grins, and the pain, for a little while, recedes. She lets Ruby pull her up, plays along with finding a home for the drawing, and together they hand it above the mock fireplace. The same place where her photo her herself and Kara had sat.

She doesn't deserve this kindness.

That evening, Sam convinces her to finally go to bed. "Your back will thank you."

Lena gifts her a faint smile. "Fine."

"And I'll handle L-Corp. Don't worry about a thing, okay?" Sam shakes a finger at her. "You need to rest. Doctor's orders you know."

Normally she'd scoff and dismiss it. Normally, she'd buckle up and go in anyway. Normally, she'd push aside her emotions and work herself to the bone.

But the malaise has sunk its fingers deep. Lena only nods, and slips under the covers to hide once more. For the rest of that day, she reviews events. Reviews emotions. Reviews what she can recall.

What is real?

Can she ever trust Kara again?

She loves her still, and it hurts so much. Hurts more than even her brother's death.

She's stained, her heart fractured, and she doesn't know what to do next.

If only she could cut the pain out of herself, to stop the dishonesty so no one else will suffer.

For the first time in days, she leaves her room and takes out her laptop. She types up a tentative plan, works out a simulation, and sends it to Hope, her AI.

Sam finds her deep in coding at the dining table. It's late, the sun long set, and shadows etch across her walls. The television hums with a game as Ruby plays in the other room.

The soup Sam sets down smells delicious, but Lena only glances at it.

"What are you working on?" Sam pulls up a chair.

"What if I could code a way to end suffering?" Lena asks. Her fingers dance across the keys as she looks over Hope's simulation data. It didn't go as she hoped, so she's altering the algorithms. "To make it so no one lies, no one hurts another."

"A code to end suffering," Sam repeats. "Lena, are you suggesting mind control?"

"As if." Lena frowns and glances at Sam. "People can still do what they want. This would just prevent them from hurting anyone."

"That's still mind control."

Frustrated, Lena slaps her laptop shut. "Then what do suggest I should do to end suffering?"

"I think you're asking the wrong question," Sam says gently.

"Oh?" Lena crosses her arms and glares at Sam. "And what should I be asking?"

"I don't know." Sam stirs the soup and pushes it toward Lena. "You should eat. Ruby says you haven't touched any food today."

"I'm fine, Sam."

"Are you? It's okay to not be okay, Lena. You don't have to be strong for this. That's why we're here. You can lean on us. You can be honest with us. We're not going anywhere."

Sam's earnest words sear into her, and Lena looks away, unable to bear the sincerity, the kindness.

"I'm a murderer, Sam," Lena murmurs. "And I'm running simulations that you claim is mind control. I think we should be honest. I'm a villain after all."

"No, you're hurting, and you being, well, you, you're trying to science your way out of the pain. But that's not how it works." Sam gently pushes a lock of hair from Lena's face. "How about this. Let's brainstorm new projects. The more ridiculous the higher the score. I bet I can beat you." She smiles. "I'll even wager money on this."

Lena stares at Sam. "Wagering money that you can beat me on generating ideas? Sam, you'll lose. I'm the queen of ideas."

"Oh? Then prove it." Sam stands and snags several pads of paper. She shoves one at Lena with a violet pen. "Get generating, Lena. Because you're about to be out..." Sam pauses then grins, "... out a hundred dollars."

"Two hundred that I'll leave you in the dust," Lena snaps, unable to resist the competition. She's the one with the two degrees, while Sam only had an accounting degree. How dare Sam claim she can generate better ideas than Lena herself.

"Two hundred and fifty I'll beat you in volume."

Lena growls and furiously starts to write. For the next four hours, she and Sam pit their wits against each other. Papers get taped to the wall, doors, and windows. Ruby cheers them on and makes popcorn as Sam and her shout more and more unhinged ideas.

When Lena suggests nanite-made clothes that instantly clean when dirtied, Sam shoots back an idea of nanite cloth competitions for the most dazzling display of fashion prowess.

Lena tacks to the wall an idea to build a massive portal to send ships to Mars or the moon for colonies and lessen the stress of overpopulation on the ecological systems of Earth.

Sam ups her with portals to other solar systems and documentaries to showcase the work of the mechanics and scientists.

Lena throws the suggestion of science competitions amongst other planets, and the winner gets a grant to build whatever they desire.

Sam suggests competitions to build the biggest train in the solar system, one so big that it fits the moon inside.

Lena counters with an engine that could power such a massive train.

Sam slaps onto the wall her idea of a massive party on such a train, to bring the wonders of pop and rock music to the corners of the galaxy.

By this point, Lena is laughing and tempted to tape her Sam's mouth shut. They've reached an impasse, for each idea Lena generates, Sam twists it to something silly, and even Ruby struggles to decide who wins the round.

"Fine!" Lena throws the last of her pad into the air. "We're tied."

"Are we?" Sam turns to her daughter. "Ruby, as our judge, what is your assessment?"

Ruby spends several minutes tapping her lip as if deep in thought. "I declare...." She pauses for dramatic effect, "A tie. Both your list of ideas are fantastic, and I kind of hope you do some of them Aunt Lena."

Lena looks at the mess that is now her penthouse, how so many unhinged schematics adorn the walls, the lines of ideas that overlap each other, and it's so against her Luthor upbringing that she laughs. Laughs and laughs at the absurdity of her situation.

She decides to keep the ideas where they are.

To remind herself that even in moments of great pain, nuggets of joy can still be found.

Though she will not be building a massive space train big enough for moons, just for all the celebrity popstars to host concerts for other solar systems. No matter how much Ruby and Sam beg.

She has some pride, thank you very much.