#and a Fresh came up to me and went “what's up short king”

[darkmuffinstudios]

I greatly enjoy that we, as a fandom, have all agreed- to some capacity- that Killer is short.

Like outta the whole group, he'll be the shortest/second-shortest

He is throwable height. He is baggable height.

Everyone can be climbed like a jungle gym to him.

Brilliant

[suncoved]

SALTWATER BLUES ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂ𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ

CHAPTER ONE — ENDLESS INTERACTIONS!

pairing; childhoodbestfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: You return to the outer banks after moving away with your mother at 13, leaving your best friend Rafe, alone and confused with no way out. Now you're back, 6 years later.. and it's an absolute shit show.

series masterlist !

Rafe threw his head back as he snorted his first line of the night, the rush quickly making its way to his brain as his body relaxed. He sniffed more from the intrusion, scanning his eyes over the crowd of people at the party on a normal night in the outer banks.

"My boy knows how to party!" Topper enthusiastically claimed, walking up to Rafe who was sat around the glass table on the balcony.

"Shut up topper" He grumbled in reply, glancing over at the girl following behind his blonde friend. "Rafe, this is Marley. Said she wanted to get to know you"

The girl batted her eyelashes at Rafe, her legs glistening in her very short skirt. "not happening" Rafe replied, preparing the next round of his supply as he waved his hand at the pair in front of him to go away.

"Well, the king has spoken. Sorry Marls, he's been a bit grumpy for well.. always."

Rafe rolled his eyes at Topper's words, not even bothering to watch as the girl walked away begrudgingly.

"When are you gonna move on man, I mean we all loved her but.. she's not coming back." Topper sighed, sitting on the chair next to Rafe. "Shut the fuck up, you don't know the first thing about me and her. " He snapped back, his blood boiling at the mention of you, as it always did.

He was so angry.

So angry that you had left him without a goodbye. So angry that he couldn't hold your hand or cuddle you. So angry he couldn't just have you back.

But what made him the most angry, was that it wasn't angry at all.

He could never be angry at you. All he wanted was you back in his arms, but he knew that was never happening.

And he was yet to make peace with that fact.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

"I've missed you so much!" Kie squealed as she ran into your arms, pushing you back as you giggled and hugged her. "I've missed you too Kie. It's been too long," you replied solemnly, pulling back to look at her face for the first time in years.

"Outerbanks hasn't been the same without you" Kiara replied, squeezing you extra tight as she pulled back. You just smiled in response, taking a deep breath of the fresh Obx air you didn't know you missed so much.

"Well c'mon, we have swimming to do." You giggled, pulling off your shirt and shorts to reveal your bikini underneath, feeling the soft sand between your toes.

You couldn't wait for her as she shimmed out of her clothes, looking at her and smiling before running to the water.

You had only been back in the Obx for a matter of hours, digging through your suitcase to find the first bathing suit you could see before running out of your house.

The feeling of the fresh, clear, water on your skin as you dived under waves was unmatched to anything you had felt before. Like before this, you had never even lived before.

All the worries and panic about coming back home dissipating the second you touched the sea.

You don't know how long you were swimming, but the second you came back to consciousness the sun was setting over the horizon.

As you swam back to the shore, you heard a bustle on the sand in front of you. You narrowed your eyes at the commotion, your feet finding their way to the sand below you as you walked out of the water.

Having only spent about 6 hours back in the Outerbanks, you hadn't yet become acquainted with the nightlife of the teenagers of Kildare.

You heard your name being yelled behind you as you walked up the beach to your towel and clothes, turning around to see Kiara now fully dry and fully dressed.

"Oh my god, you were swimming that whole time? I thought you went home!" Kie gasped as you noticed a red solo cup in her hand.

"I always lose track of time out there. What's all this?" you questioned, looking around at the crowds of teenagers and music pumping in your ears at the once peaceful boneyard.

"Kegger, Wait! C'mon, The boys will be so happy your back!" She enthusiastically replied, pulling you towards the crowds while you were still drying off with your towel.

"Wait Kie!" you gasped, much preferring that she gave you the chance to put on some clothes first.

"Guys! Look whose back" Kiara exclaimed, pulling you out from behind her to see the trio of troublemaking pouges from your childhood.

"Hey, no way! The kook princess is back in town" JJ gasped, pulling you in for a hug as you smiled. "Hey J"

You were never that close with the Pouges, because well you were never in the same circle as them. Though, Pope's dad Heyward knew your father from childhood and was at your house from time to time.

After exchanging hugs with the rest of the boys, they soon went into a conversation about god knows what, letting you have the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

You sighed to yourself as you walked down the beach, attempting to escape the commotion of the Kegger. It wasn't dark yet, so you found yourself sitting in the soft sand, staring at the waves in peace.

You were yet to see or hear of the Cameron boy you had been thinking about your whole life.

Wondering what he had been up to for the last 6 years of your life. Was he in college? What did he look like now? Was he tall, handsome?

You had endless amounts of questions, but you were still undecided if you actually wanted them to be answered.

You brought your legs into your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself, letting your head rest on your arms as you stared into the horizon.

You looked behind you as you heard voices, watching a girl climb onto a red buoy that had washed up on the shore. You squinted your eyes as you saw a familiar boy lend her a hand to get down.

Topper.

As Sarah looked over the shore from her view, she noticed you sat alone. And i mean, you're someone people never forget, and along with the fact she hadn't stopped hearing about you from her older brother since she could remember.

You hear your name from behind you as you turn, seeing Sarah run up to you with Topper following cluelessly behind.

"Hey Sarah" You sigh, trying to be as enthusiastic as possible but you can't help but crave silence right now.

"What're doing back here, I thought I'd never see you again" She exclaims, leaning down to hug you. "Can't get rid of me that quick"

"Hey Topper" You spoke, watching as he nervously peered at you behind Sarah.

As much as you loved Sarah, you guys were never close. Sure you could have a good conversation with her occasionally, but you were always closer to Topper, because well, where you went, Rafe went.

You watched as someone called Sarah's name, making her turn around and walk towards the voice. Leaving you and Topper alone on the shore.

Instead of following her, he took a seat next to you on the sand.

"We've missed you a lot y'know" He sighed, shuffling closer to you as you turned to him "He's not doing good, at all. He needs you"

You felt a tear making its way down your cheek at the mention of Rafe, turning away quickly to wipe it off your face. "See him soon alright, please"

With his last statement, he got up and left you to your thoughts.

When your mom decided to whisk you away back to the mainland, you didn't only lose your father and all you knew, but the love of your life as well.

You and Rafe were inseparable, and you had always wondered what your life would be like if you never had left.

You looked over the crowd at Kie, who was having fun and laughing with her friends. Deciding against having the whole 'I'm going home now' conversation where you knew she was going to try to get you to stay, you walked the length of the beach back to your house.

You didn't even know how you would go about seeing Rafe again. Were you gonna show up to his house and offer milk and cookies, or hide from him for the rest of your life until you could have plastic surgery to change your face so he couldn't recognise you?

Probably the latter.

You held your shoes in your hands as you walked up the staircase to your room, your dad nowhere in sight, and the house as quiet as it was in your childhood.

You sighed as you flicked the light on in your room, the sky outside now pitch black.

You immediately start pulling off your shirt and shorts which were over your bikini. The mixture of the sand and the still-damp swimsuit making you squirm.

You look over to your balcony and realise your curtains are still open, making the wise decision that you should probably shut them before completely stripping, you walk over to the window.

You reach to each side of the fabric, beginning to pull them into each other before your eyes are cast to the light in front of you from outside.

You look over to the bedroom opposite yours out the window, clothes strewn across the floor, the bed unmade... Oh! and your childhood best friend staring right at you in utter shock.

Shoot, there goes your master plan.

[euhla]

HOUSE OF CARDS aventurine x gn!reader

summary “a house of cards, and us inside,” a phrase that aventurine often says in between your endless arguments. you always thought that your relationship will be happy and full of affection, only to be met by illimitable arguments.

⌕ ... angst, hurt/comfort, light angst, spoilers (aventurine’s past), mentions of kakavasha, both reader & aven is tired n they broke up once in the past, arguments, gambling, pet name, anxiety ??, based on this song n my hc on this post. a/n : post for celebrating aven’s banner ! aventurine wanters will be aventurine havers :3

all day your head has been feeling dizzy after continuously hearing screams from your boss. he felt he could call and curse people whatever he wanted, not knowing that he was actually the main problem.

your body shaking violently made you feel vulnerable as you leaned on the wall next to prevent you from falling. exasperation is no longer there, easily replaced by your disgust that you can't do anything.

and that’s when you realized that there’s no smell of alcohol that always wafting through your nose. it’s strange, you think. you look around, only to be greeted by gloom and despair atmosphere.

there was only one thing that crossed your mind; “he's gambling again isn't he?” he always does it, even though his left hand always holds the chip tightly. even though he continues to doubt the blessing he received since birth.

knowing the blessings he received, you should be able to calm down; in the end replaced by restlessness doubt. what if he loses? what if he’s in trouble now? what if, what if…

and you should not doubt the blessings of gaiathra triclops, because the door next to you suddenly opened and revealed aventurine standing—while holding his injured arm.

the two of you stared at each other awkwardly for three seconds, before you opened your mouth and said, “seriously?”

You don't know whether it's because of exasperation or short of infuriation you feel right now, you immediately said that. the next thing you know, you regret it.

“what? i just came home and you greet me like that?” he scoffed.

“aven, you’re hurt.”

“of course, it’s my job afterall.” you held your forehead, feeling the dizziness appear again and this time it was more painful. “and now you act as if this is all my fault.”

you frowned at his statement. “i’m not blamming you.”

“i’m just worried because you always come home like this!”

aventurine sighed. after that he walked past you without saying anything. "at least let me treat you, just once."

your question was only answered by excruciating silence. at least answer the question.

‘no way, no way, it’s collapsing again.’

aventurine remained sitting on his king size bed which was mostly occupied by himself. he was just silent, thinking about what had just happened. i shouldn't have said it.. i shouldn't have refused.

i should have known it from beginning; we're both tired. and why do we keep trying?

aventurine is now standing, ignoring the fresh wound on his arm that he still hasn't treated. before it’s too late, he think. there is still time to apologize.

that soft knock on your bedroom door should be enough to tell you that he wants to apologize. he’s standing in front of the door with a feeling of unease that never went away, and then you opened the door.

with blurred vision and barely able to see the figure in front of you, you remained standing. "sorry," you both said it at the same time. the only words you both could say at that time.

“i’m so sorry, aven. i’m too tired that i can’t think clearly. i should always try to understand you because that's your job.” your words stopped because of your sobs. “i—“

“—a house made of cards, and stupidly, us.” aventurine stopped your words. he smiled disappointedly at himself. "we're both exhausted, and there's no one to blame.”

“i’m sorry that i’m always telling you that we can do it again. i… didn't think twice about how you feel about this,” he said.

“i always dreamed that we could live happily together like this. i’m sorry baby, it’s such a useless dream, isn’t it?”

you tried to hold back your sobs. “even if you say it’s a useless dream, just stay a little more like this. i’m okay with this.”

there will be tomorrow and we can try this again, you think. time will slow down just to let the two of you fix the mistakes in the past that once caused you to broke up.

“when i said that i don’t need you to treat my wounds, it’s because… i’m ashamed by myself; my body, my wounds, my past. i don't want your hands to touch any part of me that is despicable.” you were surprised because you never once thought he was despicable.

“aven, it's in the past, and it's not your fault.“ your hands found their way to wrap around his body. “you can rely on me now, please.”

“kakavasha.”

“please call me kakavasha from now.”

you smiled. “yes, kakavasha.”

in the end, there's nothing wrong with trying again.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The one who returns

(A continuation of: Humans are weird: They sing going to war)

Though my comrades laughed I continued the human tradition, and to my relief I was rewarded by what gods of theirs were listening.

On my first drop after I started to sing an anti-air shell punctured straight through my dropship. It tore a hole the size of my torso through the hull, reducing the squad mate who had been sitting their laughing at me into a red mist, and then out through the other side before detonating. The craft rocked and lurched but it held together long enough for us to reach the surface.

In my first battle I was pinned down in the ruins of a structure trading fire with a squad of enemy soldiers on the opposite street. We’d been stuck in that firefight for almost an hour trading fire; neither side daring to race across the dead land between us. I had just ducked back to slap in a fresh clip when a shredder grenade was flung through the window and landed at my feet. I had seen what they could due and knew my time had come as there was no chance for me to escape the room before it detonated. Yet as I kept my voice strong in song a stray blaster bolt struck the ceiling above me loosening a chunk of masonry. The piece came loose and fell directly on to the grenade causing the ground beneath it to crumble and continue falling into the floor below before it detonated leaving me unharmed.

What truly astounded me though is when my squad was assigned to capture a metal recycling facility on the outskirts of the city. Reports had identified the complex as a rallying point for scattered enemy squads looking to regroup so we were sent in to neutralize the threat. We arrived in good order and began investigating the factory when the machinery suddenly came to life. A metallic sheering blade the size of my body swung at me from the gloom and would have nearly chopped my head off had I not noticed the red glow it began to emit as it powered up. My comrades were not as lucky and three of them were cleaved like bloody paper. From above I saw the operator of the machinery at what had once been a foreman control post and let loose a barrage of blaster fire. He fell quickly enough and in the confusion of battle between the enemy forces now flooding onto the facility floor I made my way up to the control post. It took a minute to unravel the nature of the controls but in short order I had redirected our would-be machine adversaries to turn on their former compatriots. The facility was ours within the hour with myself once more remaining the only one untouched from harm.

As my squad began shuffling off to wait for a medvac I found myself drawn to the machinery. The giant blades now stood silent and powered down and I ran a hand against them. Even powered off they were sharper than anything I had ever come across and when on had so easily cut through armor meant to deflect raw energy discharges. I’m not sure if it was from the shellshock of battle or from my recent time spent with the human warriors, but I felt something calling to me from the blade. It took some time to dismantle but by the time the medvac transport arrived I had freed it from its housing and dragged in onboard. If my squad had anything to say about it those that could still speak kept their own council.

Back in orbit I dragged the metallic blade to the human’s section of the ship. I had found myself in their company more and more when time permitted between deployments. Their talk of ancient gods and wards of protection were what interested me at first, but they were but the first steps into the depth of my fascination of their culture. I showed them the giant blade and told them of how it had slain my comrades. Some of them spoke how it reminded them of the blade of Surtr which heralded Ragnarök, while others insisted that it was more akin Skofnung, a king’s blade imbued with the spirts of his most loyal warriors.

The debate went on from friendly disagreements into an open brawl between the opposing factions, but their engineers remained focused on the material itself and asked what I wished to do with it. I had heard many of the legends of the humans by now and knew many of them carried great weapons, so I wished them to fashion me one from this blade as well. They were hesitant at first as the work alone would be immense and they had other duties to attend to, so I offered them whatever material of the giant blade would be theirs to do with as they pleased. With such an offer made their eyes went wide and they barely had time to agree to the terms as they snatched the giant factory tool and carried it off between the still brawling throngs.

Three days passed and I heard nothing from them. My next deployment was on the fourth and just before I was to embark on the transport the engineers came before me. With great glee they presented me with my new weapon.

Now a fraction of its former size, the blade could easily be wielded with one of my hands. I took several swings of it and I could feel the very air itself around it buzzing as it sliced through it. To add to the moment the human engineers directed my attention to a bright red button on the hilt of the weapon. No sooner had I pressed it did the blade coursing with power. A soft orange glow began to emit from the blade as it once more became as powerful as the first time I saw it in the facility. As if to emphasize its keenness they had me hold the blade up then swung one of their own rifles at it like a club. The blade sliced through the body of the rifle and it fell to the floor with a loud clutter.

Impressed by their work I nodded my thanks and joined my comrades on the dropship. It would be the last time anyone on the ship would call me by my name. When I returned I would be known by other names but the one that most stuck was Ne’ya Ruel, which in my people’s tongue translated to “The one who Returns”  

[archangeldyke-all]

GRANDPARENT SEVIKA , but hear me out Grandparent COWBOY Sevika. She’d so be the old woman telling the kids stories about her heist.

EEEEEEEEEEEEK

men and minors dni

three years after both girls flew the coop-- vi hitting the road with caitlyn and jinx moving in to a little home a few blocks away from your inn with ekko-- you and sevika finally decided to 'retire.'

while you weren't willing to give up your business completely, you did decide to close down and board up the inn, transforming the upper levels of your building into a lovely little two-story apartment for you, sevika, and the girls to reside in when they decide to crash at yours.

vi and cait visit about once a week when they ride past town.

powder and ekko come over almost every night for dinner, apparently mature enough to live on their own but still unwilling to learn how to cook on their own.

you don't mind. despite the constant teasing you shoot at the young couple, you like having them around. (and you know that deep down, they're both so hesitant to take you up on cooking lessons because it would mean they'd no longer have a reason to come over so often.)

although you closed the inn, you kept the bar open because you love the people in your town and you've become somewhat of an establishment over the years. plus, you and sevika wouldn't know what to do with yourselves if you didn't have something keeping you busy.

in the evenings, the two of you open the bar to the public, serving stew and fresh baked bread and drinks and beers to your loyal patrons and keeping up on local gossip.

it's been great. working at the bar scratches the itch you and sev have to do something, but without the inn to manage or the kids to raise, you've both been enjoying the extra free time you have to... re-connect. (which means you've been fucking like animals on every flat surface in your home. loudly.)

but just when you thought you got rid of your kids for good-- jinx got pregnant. with twins. and then four months into her pregnancy, violet and caitlyn stumbled upon a pair of orphans living in the desert on their own.

so, in a matter of a few months, you and sevika went from child-free and retired to up to your neck in new children.

the moment you learned that jinx was pregnant, you and sevika set out to refurbish jinx's childhood bedroom-- rearranging the furniture to fit a king size bed for her and ekko, a desks, and a wardrobe. you also managed to cram two cribs at the foot of the bed.

jinx and ekko never asked to move back in with you two, but you insisted and they didn't protest. you and sevika had a hard enough time raising two little kids with the help of half the town, you could only imagine how fucking hard raising two newborns on your own would be-- you weren't gonna let your daughter and son-in-law go through that alone.

you cleared out one of the old inn rooms to become a nursery. it was sparse at first-- just blue walls painted with fluffy white clouds and a rocking chair in the corner, a little wardrobe, and a short bookshelf with a few of the girls' old picture books filling the shelves.

but as your patrons found out that jinx was expecting, the room quickly became filled with toys, books, stuffies, and hand-knit baby clothes and blankets.

vi and cait spent a few weeks on the road with the orphans, trying to find where they came from or who they might belong to. but after a few months, they gave up the search and gave into the fact that the kids were theirs now.

they wrote to you and sevika, their letter coming about a month before they would be, asking to live with you until they got back on their feet after the new addition to their little family. you enthusiastically agreed.

for them, you did the same thing, transforming violet's old bedroom into a suitable bedroom for a couple, and filling one of the four remaining spare bedrooms with drawers, bookshelves, and bunkbeds.

you, sevika, jinx and ekko spent the day of vi, cait, and their new kids' arrival out on the front porch, anxious to meet the new kids of your little mismatched family.

as they rode into town, you burst into laughter at the sight of vi, looking more haggard and tired than you've ever seen her, a little boy in her lap rambling on and on as she sluggishly nodded along.

"not so easy, huh?" you asked as you wrapped your kid up in a hug. violet melted in your arms and groaned.

"how the fuck did you do it?" she asked. you snorted.

"you'll get used to it."

violet and caitlyn's new kids are a pair of brothers, aged five and three. the eldest's name is jo-- talkative and curious and protective of his younger brother. dorian, the baby of the boys, is quiet and observant and incredibly funny without even trying.

despite violet's complaints and the dark bags under caitlyn's eyes, they both adore the kids. on their first night back home, you caught the couple standing in the doorway of their sons' room, watching them sleep and whispering to each other about how fucking sweet their boys are.

the boys are sweet. dorian becomes incredibly attached to sevika, to the point where he sleeps in between the two of you once or twice a week when he's not sleeping between his moms.

one of the cutest things you've ever witnessed is your wife out in the stable, feeding the horses with little dorian clinging to her back, squealing as he feeds handfuls of hay to teddy bear.

jo becomes your 'little buddy.' he's fascinated by the garden and tends to wake you up before sunrise to drag you out into the garden and ask you about various plants, putting all the strength his tiny body can muster into pulling stubborn weeds for you.

jinx gave birth on a hot summer night, right in the middle of the bar. luckily, one of your loyal patrons is the local doctor.

you watched in horror as jinx laid on the floor of your filthy bar, ekko's hand in her right and violet's hand in her left, doctor between her legs, caitlyn dabbing her head with a cold towel as she delivered her babies.

sevika passed out the second she saw blood between jinx's leg, and didn't wake up until much later-- when jinx was all stitched up and sleeping.

when she did come to, though, you had the pleasure of watching ekko introduce your wife to her newest grandchildren. one girl and one boy, summer and augustus.

she burst into tears as she cradled the babies to her chest, pressing sweet, gentle kisses to their heads.

"they're so small." she cried. "they're so fucking tiny babe, look at their itty bitty hands."

they're cute kids. augustus looks just like his daddy ekko, but he's got jinx's bright blue hair. summer looks like jinx, big blue eyes and thin nose and lips, but as she grows up her natural brunette hair forms a bright streak of white, inherited from her dad.

jo and dorian are obsessed with their 'baby cousins.' neither of the boys ever call the babies by their names, they call them 'sweet boy' and 'sweet girl,' just like sevika does.

jinx and ekko are surprisingly successful parents. ekko has a level-head and an abundance of patience in the areas where jinx lacks, and jinx isn't scared of anything-- vomit, diarrhea, tears, and snot-- nothing phases her. her endless energy comes in handy as the mother of newborn twins, and you're shocked and mildly concerned when jinx is back on her feet less than twenty four hours after giving birth, tinkering away at a desk in the livingroom, one hand holding a screwdriver while the other held summer to her breast to eat.

you catch violet outside the twin's room one night, crying as she looks down at her niece and nephew.

"you okay, baby?" you ask. your daughter sniffs and leans on your shoulder.

"did you ever think jinx'd have kids?" she asks. you shrug.

"honestly i thought you were gonna be the child-free one. i always pictured jinx with half a dozen kids." you say. violet laughs.

"i dunno. i didn't like, want kids, but i didn't not want them. and then once the boys came along there was nothing anyone could do to convince me to give 'em up. but powder? i never thought i'd see the day." she says.

you kiss her head, wrapping an arm around her waist as you listen to her talk.

"she was so fucked up as a kid... you know our mom died holding her?" violet asks, her voice wobbly. you did know this-- powder told you and sevika one night many years ago in a fit of tears-- but hearing violet talk about it breaks your heart all over again. "and i kinda always thought that my poor sister's never gonna be able to be a normal person. not that kids make you normal... but you know what i mean. i never thought she'd be able to make friends, or talk to strangers, or even sleep in a bed without me beside her, but fucking look!" violet whisper-shouts, waving at the sleeping twins. "she made those! all on her own!" she cries.

"ekko helped a bit." you joke. violet laughs through her tears and slumps against you.

"i'm so proud of her." she says. you smile, tears brimming in your eyes.

"me too." you say. "proud of you too, y'know."

violet snorts against you but doesn't deny it.

"you know neither of us would be here today if it weren't for you and sev, right? like, we'd be dead. or in jail. or dead." violet says. you chuckle.

"we're pretty great, aren't we?" you tease. violet huffs and elbows you.

"i'm serious."

"i know." you say, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "and i'm serious when i say you two are the best thing that's ever happened to us. it wasn't even a question whether or not we'd take you guys in-- it's like you said. we weren't expecting the two of you but once you were here there wasn't a thing on this planet that could get us to give you up."

"you aren't upset?" violet asks. you blink at her.

"about what?"

"the fact that your grown daughters have crashed your retirement to have you help raise their kids?"

you burst into laughter, muffling it with the back of your hand so you don't wake the sleeping babies in the room beside you.

"no, vi. we're not upset. i mean, don't get me wrong, i definitely enjoyed being able to walk around the house half naked-- and i'm gonna miss having sex whenever and where--"

"EWW?!" violet interrupts. you snort and pinch her side.

"but no. we're thrilled you're all here. just a little pissed that we're grandmas at such a young age." you joke. violet laughs.

"god, kids really do get in the way of sex, though, don't they?" she asks. you snort and shake your head, half cringing at the idea of your kid having sex, half laughing at the truth of her statement.

you and sevika grow into grandparent-hood with relative ease.

the kids grow up like siblings rather than cousins.

the girls' 'temporary' move back into your home becomes permanent, just like their 'temporary' stay in your inn after they tried to rob you as kids became permanent so so many years ago.

the kiramann's come to visit once a month, riding into town with a buggie full of toys and gifts for their grandchildren each and every time. occasionally they'll bring a bottle or two for the adults to share, but their main priority is always the four rugrats.

silco, vander, mylo and claggor all come to visit once a season. sometimes the boys come without their dads, sometimes the couple comes without their boys, sometimes only one member of the family can make it-- but each time any of them show up it ends up being a party.

caitlyn gives up her life on the road to become the new sheriff of your little town after marcus took it upon himself to retire and get the fuck out of dodge. she's an incredible sheriff-- you'd never say it in front of her, but you think she's even better at the job than grayson was.

vi gets a job on the same ranch sevika used to work on, working as a rancher for ernie junior.

it's adorable watching the young couple in the mornings. vi always straightens cait's shiny sheriff's badge and cait straightens' vi's cowboy hat in return. then, they share a kiss, only to be boo'd by the kids, who then have to run away to avoid the smooches the women try to plant on their cheeks.

jinx starts a business of her own that runs out of your bar-- 'jinx's fix it shop.' she's got a designated booth in the corner where clients can visit her, bringing her various machines and tools to be repaired-- all of which she fixes in less than a day. from time to time, jo will sneak into her booth and watch his auntie pow-pow work-- fascinated by all the little screws and tools she uses. she just sits him on her lap and talks him through her process, their eyes sharing the same fascinated sparkle as they tinker together.

ekko decides to forego an official job, staying at home to help you and sevika with the kids. his days consist of reading lessons and chores, and by the time vi and cait get home you're guaranteed to find him passed out asleep somewhere hilarious-- in a haystack in the stable or spread out in the garden or standing straight up behind the bar. summer shares his love of naps, and more often than not, you'll find the kid sleeping right beside her dad.

most times, you send jinx to wake them up for dinner. she always wakes ekko first-- a gentle kiss on his forehead is all it takes for his eyes to snap open, which always makes jinx laugh. her laugh makes ekko's eyes go all big and sparkly, but before they can do much more kissing, summer's usually awake to see what her momma's laughing about.

before the twins could talk, the kids called you and sevika by your names, just like their parents. but once summer got the hang of english, she proudly declared that you and sevika were now 'gramma' and 'nana sev'. (she calls cassandra and tobias 'mimi' and 'old man.' benzo, of course, becomes 'peepaw.') the rest of the kids start calling you all the same things once they realize how much you all hate it.

despite the fact that the titles make you feel old, there's no denying that hearing the names make you smile.

sevika starts sprouting greys a few months before you do. she notices only because dorian points it out to her one night, asking if she's trying to copy summer's hair.

"you're so old!" you tease. sevika just rolls her eyes and proves how young she is by throwing you over her shoulder and marching you to bed.

most nights, your little family can be found scattered around the bar downstairs, the adults taking turns making drinks for the patrons while the kids play together behind the bar. but on sundays, the bar closes, and unless it's freezing out, you eat your sunday family dinners out on the front porch.

tonight, caitlyn insisted on cooking. it's your and sevika's anniversary, and as such, you've both been banned from doing any sort of chore or errand.

the two of you are cuddled up on your porch swing, watching violet as she chases jo and summer through the garden, the three of them laughing and screaming as they play.

ekko, jinx, and caitlyn are sitting on the stairs in front of you, chatting away as they share a pipe. (the perks of caitlyn being the sheriff means that any marijuana she confiscates from local teens comes straight home to your own stash.)

augustus is playing dress up-- a trunk full of outgrown clothes dragged out on the porch for him to rifle through. occasionally, when he's happy with an outfit, he'll run in front of you and sevika for your approval. once he gets it, he heads to the stairs to get his parent's attention, before strutting up and down the porch, modeling his creation with pride. you all clap and cheer, and he grins like he's won the fucking lottery.

dorian is squished between you and sevika, drifting off to sleep before snapping back awake.

you sigh, smiling as you take in your happy family in front of you.

"happy anniversary." you whisper to your wife. she smirks, tearing her eyes away from the playing kids to look at you.

"how many years is this now?"

"twenty fucking five. can you believe it?" you ask. sevika grins.

"time flies when you're havin' fun, darlin'." she says. you giggle.

"yeah? you've been havin' fun?" you ask. sevika furrows her brow, tilting her head in confusion.

"what're you talkin' about?" she asks. you shrug.

"i mean... you used to be the weary woman of the west. now you're just nana sev." you say. "you don't have any regrets?"

sevika gawks at you. "are you fuckin' serious?" she asks. you shrug again, and sevika scoffs. "baby, before i met you, i had no ambitions beyond stayin' alive 'til the next sunrise 'n stealin' the shiniest shit i could get my hands on. it was fun, sure, but... it was empty." she says. "this though? you? all the crazy shit you brought into my life like, love and family and friends and a buttload of kids? honey, there ain't enough treasure in the world for me to give this up." she says.

your eyes get a little watery at her words, and it takes you a second to collect yourself enough to lean over dorian and plant a firm kiss on her cheek.

"i'm so happy." you say. "you make me so happy. i love you so much."

"i love you too, darlin'." sevika says, blinking back her own tears.

between you, dorian groans and blinks awake.

"nana sev?" he asks. she quickly swipes her eyes before looking down at the boy.

"what's up kid?" she asks.

"i needa bedtime story." he demands, cuddling into your side as he prepares himself to be lulled to sleep by his grandma's voice.

sevika snorts, ruffling his hair. "which story?"

"mmm... cowboy story."

"what about the time me and gramma and your mom broke your ma and auntie pow-pow and uncles outta prison?" she suggests. dorian considers this, before shaking his head no.

"y' told that one a few nights ago." he says, yawning. you giggle at the picky little boy, pressing a kiss to his head.

"tell 'im about that train robbery you pulled off." you say. dorian perks up a little and sevika smiles.

"oh shit. i forgot i did that." she says, laughing. "right before i proposed to you, right?" she asks. you smile and nod, and sevika laughs. "my grand finale." she reminisces.

dorian nudges her. "i never heard this one!" he complains. "tell me!" he demands.

sevika nods, taking a moment to collect her memories, her smile growing as she thinks. you and dorian wait in anticipation as sevika clears her throat, putting on her 'serious storytelling' voice.

"alright. don't do any of the shit i'm about to tell you." she says. dorian nods with wide, sparkling eyes. "a long time ago, back when the west was even more deserted than it is now, your nana sev was a cowboy." she starts. dorian squirms in excitement, and you smile, ducking down to press a kiss to his head.

"the weary woman of the west!" he exclaims. sevika laughs heartily and nods.

"you got it kid. i was a fuckin' badass, but i had a problem." she says.

"what was it?"

"i was in love." she whispers. dorian gasps.

"with who!?" he asks. you scoff and tickle his side.

"with me, silly!" you say. he giggles.

"with your gramma." sevika confirms, nodding. "but this was before we were married. she was just a beautiful woman who worked in this very bar, and she refused to take my hand in marriage." sevika reaches up to dramatically clutch her heart. dorian glares at you.

"gramma! that's rude!" he cries.

"she was a criminal!" you say, laughing. "and she was always out riding through the desert."

"it's true, i was. but i had a plan to change that and make your gramma my wife-- i just had to do one last hurrah before i gave up my life of crime and settled down." she says.

you sink back in your seat, slowly swinging the bench with your foot as you listen to your wife's raspy, relaxing voice.

in front of you, jinx and ekko lean against one another as caitlyn and augustus do a slow waltz-- augustus dressed in a silky purple dress that's dragging a foot behind him as he twirls under his aunt cait's arm.

violet runs by with summer in her arms, both of them squealing as dorian chases after them with a stick.

the crickets are chirping, a cool evening breeze is blowing by, and the last rays of golden sunlight are breaking across the sky as it slowly sets on the horizon.

you're happier than you've ever been.

"it was a quiet night, just me, the moon, and my trusty old mare shimmer..."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM THE SOPRANOS *  assorted dialogue from the television show, adjust as necessary

i find i have to be the sad clown: laughing on the outside, crying on the inside.

i went ahead and ordered some for the table.

when you're married, you'll understand the importance of fresh produce.

we've got guns here.

he just told you to shut the fuck up.

the things i take pleasure in, i can't do.

don't you ever say you hate life.

oh, poor you!

so what, no fucking ziti now?

you want compromise? how's this?

i'll keep this short and sweet.

you're weak. you're outta control. and you've become an embarrassment to yourself and everybody else.

sometimes it's important to give people the illusion of being in control.

are you in the mafia?

tomorrow i can be on time, but you'll be stupid forever.

let me tell you a couple of three things.

you're not gonna believe this.

a wrong decision is better than indecision.

i'm like king midas in reverse here. everything i touch turns to shit.

if you can quote the rules, then you can obey them.

we're soldiers. soldiers don't go to hell. it's war. soldiers kill other soldiers.

we're in a situation where everyone involved knows the stakes and if you are going to accept those stakes, you've got to do certain things.

there's an old italian saying: you fuck up once, you lose two teeth.

someday soon, you're gonna have families of your own and if you're lucky, you'll remember the little moments like this that were good.

hey, i don't even let anyone wag their finger in my face.

it's good to be in something from the ground floor.

those who want respect give respect.

is this a woman thing? you ask me how i'm feeling, i tell you how i'm feeling, and now you're going to torture me with it.

lately, i'm getting the feeling that i came in at the end. the best is over.

my father was in it. my uncle was in it.

maybe i was too lazy to think for myself.

buy land, 'cause god ain't making any more of it.

i don't care how close you are. in the end, your friends are gonna let you down.

family... they're the only ones you can depend on.

take your hat off.

teddy roosevelt once gave an entire speech with a bullet lodged in his chest. some things are just a matter of duty.

some people are so far behind in a race that they actually believe they're leading.

sometimes we're all hypocrites.

other people's definitions of you, sometimes they're more about making themselves feel better. you gotta define yourself.

people only see what you allow them to see.

death just shows the ultimate absurdity of life.

you know when i was depressed i said i didn't want to live? well, i'll tell you something. i didn't want to die.

that's why dinosaurs don't exist no more.

don't touch that! my program's coming on.

i wish the lord would take me now.

our existence on this earth is a puzzle.

i'm getting my wine in position to throw in your damn face.

[joels-shitty-puns]

Kings & Queens

Pairing: Post-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: I saw a list of reverse writing tropes, one of which was "too many beds" which I thought was hilarious until my brain went crazy. So here's where my mind went when there are oddly... too many beds.

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: None! This could even be read as platonic.

Other stuff: No descriptors. It can be romantic or friendly. Choose your adventure.

To those of you who are reading this: Thank you! I know I haven't written in months. I have barely even been on here. I want that again, but mentally I just haven't been feeling like much of anything lately. That being said, I saw the trope and I had an idea and quickly scribbled this down. It is short, not my best work, and doesn't have much emotion, but I did it :) To those of you who might also be struggling, I see you! You'll get through this. I hope all my tumblr buddies are doing well. I miss you guys.

_________________________________

It had been nearly a year of patrols with Joel. A year of nasty buildings and hard rocky floors to take shelter for the night, a year of either taking turns on watch, or being stuck sharing the same sleeping bag. Or the same mattress. Your only reprieve was your nice bed in Jackson, which you knew was safe, and warm, and most importantly… yours.

Joel was… alright. You two were friendly at best. But for the most part, it was all business. He didn't like to talk much, and you became tired of receiving looks or grunts when asking about Ellie, or Tommy, or his former life. But you worked well together, you made a good team, and you trusted each other to stay safe. You had run into trouble before, and you always had each other's backs. Words were often left unsaid, but you both knew what you meant to the other.

So when you stumbled upon an abandoned shopping mall while scoping potential areas of left-behind goods, it was a breath of fresh air. Malls could be dangerous with so much ground to cover, and so many potential hiding places and dark corners for the cordyceps to fester.

But the mall could also be a light at the end of the tunnel. A plethora of abandoned items to loot and sell or keep for yourself.

After hours of digging through every nook and cranny, you managed to fill a couple of bags full of items, and planned to make it a regular stop on your raids. But as the time grew later, the long-broken clock didn't tick on, and the windows grew dim, you knew it would be an overnight stay. However, choosing a sleeping spot was becoming exhausting with Joel around.

“I saw a sporting goods store. They probably have some sleeping bags, or maybe even a tent,” you provided.

“Nah, we're indoors. I wanna sleep like I'm indoors,” gruffed Joel.

“Oookay. How about that old food place? I think I saw a conveyer belt in the kitchen, next to the oven! It looks like it was used to make pizza,” you chirped excitedly. “I bet we could set up some blankets and make it like a bed.”

“Look, I know that machinery and oven have been dead for years, but on the off chance there's some malfunction, that just seems like a Final Destination event waitin’ to happen,” Joel shook his head.

“Wow you're difficult..” you huffed. “What if we go into the old children's photography studio and make a fort! The walls are even painted to look like a sky,” you offered with doe-eyes.

Joel just looked at you before grumbling back a “no. My back would kill me. There's gotta be a bed in here somewhere.”

Upon finding an old, faded mall map, Joel studied it before picking up the pace with a clear destination in mind.

He came to a stop in front of “Royal Mattressty.”

You raised a brow before saying “royal… mattress-tea?? What?”

“It's a play on words. Royal majesty.” 

“That's the stupidest thing I ever heard,” you rolled your eyes.

“No, no, it's because mattresses come in Kings, Queens, and-” he broke off at your grimace.

“You're such a dad!” 

____

The two of you made your way inside, only to find nearly 100 beds. Memory foam, spring, water, reclining… the possibilities were endless.

“WOW!” You squealed, running from bed to bed. “There's too many beds. I can't choose!”

Joel stretched, moving to a bed near the back corner. “I'm gonna set up here for the night. Sleep where y’want,” he gestured.

Sitting on a few different beds, you finally settled on one. A perfect, firm yet soft bed at the far end of the store. It was against a wall, allowing you to still see the door and keep your back safe. Perfect.

____

But as the night ticked on, you tossed and turned. You weren't at your home in Jackson. This bed was nice… but it wasn't your safe, cozy cabin.

When you aren't home, you're with Joel. All this time you've been wanting space at night, but now you feel scared and alone. Even a bit cold. But Joel was over on his own bed, probably sound asleep. You wouldn't dare take that away from him.

___

Until what felt like an hour passed.

___

And then another hour…

___

Finally, it had been about an hour and a half when you gave in. You wouldn't be getting any sleep at this rate. Fatigue is a dangerous fate when you need to be alert in this world. So you swallowed your pride and walked over to Joel's bed in the far end of the store.

But he wasn't there…

You wandered back, a bit nervous, until you spotted him. Curled up on a mattress only a row away from yours, you saw him blink in the night.

“You moved beds?” you whispered.

“Yeah, there was a draft over there…”

“A draft? In a mall with no electricity and no windows in this store?” You asked skeptically.

“Mmhm…” he grunted, sleepily.

“Sure. Well… turns out there was a draft over in my corner too. Move over,” you nudged.

“Draft, huh?” He wiggled over, letting you in the bed.

“Mmhm…” you mimicked his earlier grunt, settling in next to him.

“Good night Joel,” you whispered.

“G’night,” he replied, pressing his body closer to yours in the king sized bed.

Maybe there is such a thing as too many beds after all.

__________

Thanks for reading!!! Let me know what you think, and be sure to check out my masterlist for more. Reblogs are appreciated! Xoxo

[sunnycanvas]

Hello^^ I have been following your blog for a while and like that you want to explore different concepts with Baldwin IV👑🩵

If you don’t mind, would you like to write either a short drabble or Hcs of Baldwin comforting his wife after a really difficult birth? Like, it all turned out okay, the wife is alive, albeit very exhausted, the Baby came out to be strong and healthy, etc. but it was a very risky and long labor, and the physicians weren’t sure if she and the child were going to make it yk? After all, giving birth was highly risky back then, with a much higher mortality rate.

Anyway, I hope you are having a great day and keep up the good work🥳🌈✨

Yelp! It went longer that I expected. Hopefully it lives upto mark. Thank you for your support and happy reading

It felt so peaceful. So dark. I was exhausted and felt solace in darkness. However in my deep slumber I heard a sound of weeping. Someone calling my name. Begging me to come back. "Your grace the queen is fine but really exhausted" "Please let her sleep" "She needs rest to regain strength" . I think I heard some shouts and I don't remember much after that except the fact that I tried opening my eyes but I felt so tired. When I was finally able to open my eyes. I felt my mouth open and chest sweaty huffing desperate to get fresh air. "When did this happen" I thought. It almost felt like a dream .My head was spinning. My throat felt dry. I tried moving a bit when I could feel sticky wet substance below my waist I tried moving my legs again but realised that I was too exhausted to do so . "What's happening" I thought again worried.

"My wife is finally awake, quickly get some water"

My husband took the glass of water from widwife. Baldwin IV made me sit upright as he quickly fed me water. Baldwin IV didn't realise in state of panic how fast he was being in feeding me water. I started coughing as result

"Easy love". He gently rubbed my back as he handed back glass of water to midwife. My husband started kissing me all over my face and then hugged me tightly.

"Darling, you made it" "I am really happy" "When I saw you laying down like that l" "I was so scared, I thought I will never see you again" I could feel my shoulder getting wet from his tears as Baldwin IV kissed my hair while speaking to me. I remembered that when I was going through difficult labour. Although the baby came out alive and strong they weren't sure I would make it. After hearing this I lost consciousness

Remembering about the baby I asked where is the baby right now. Baldwin IV replied that our child was fine and is currently with the midwife who was taking care of baby

"Moment I heard one of the midwife saying that perhaps you might not survive I grew anxious and prayed to God on my knees for some miracle"

I got really scared remembering the pain I had to bear while screaming in agony. I got really nervous realising how close I was knocking at death's door. My husband the king, Baldwin IV was able to comprehend my emotional state. Without hesitation he took off his white cloak and covered me in it. He hugged me again and started drawing circles on arm while singing a lullaby. It worked and I felt myself getting calmer. "My love I am here" "I'll be there to protect you, even if it's my own battle". Hearing this I immediately voiced my thoughts "It had been a tough experience" ."We will have more children I swear it, it would be better for everyone"

"Was that the reason why you decided to have a baby"

"......."

Baldwin IV understood the meaning behind my silence. Baldwin IV sat on the bed and said "Yes, it's true that I always wanted to have a family of my own but long before I accepted my fate as leper and decided to live my life in chasity" "I am willing to go back to same life" "I thank God every day that you came in my life perhaps God gave you difficult labour because I was being greedy"

"No, love". "The kingdom needs a heir" "And I will give birth to as many children as possible" Baldwin IV understood the pressure I felt as queen replied "I know my (Y/N)" "And if you feel you don't want to go through it again" "I would have no problem with that, I will happily except our child as first and last". Baldwin IV called one of his ministers and said "Tell the council that I will be taking rest, Raymond of Tripoli could rule in my place for the time being". I was about to protest but Baldwin IV put a finger against my lips shushing me. "You were left alone during your labour, but I won't be leaving you alone after I almost lost you" "Come now love, let's sleep together" "After that we will be taking a bath together and enjoy all the activities you prefer" "You need rest" "I will ensure you won't be going out of my sight for the time being". Baldwin IV got next to me and pulled me closer. "I can't sleep" I complained

"In that case I shall tell you stories of brave knights and kings". I smiled remembering Baldwin IV loved history and foundly I watched him and he excitedly recalled the history stories he learned.

[certifiedskywalker]

How You See Me - Aemond Targaryen

Anonymous asked: hi i love you're writings so much, you have a way with words that makes you're stories so mesmerizing, i dont know if you are accepting requests right now but if you do will you write an angst one with aemond targaryen or daemon somerhing that has to do with betrayal or choosing the other side of war thank you.

You have always seen Aemond, seen past his title, and, for a moment, you thought he was finally seeing himself too...

He brought the rain in with him. Puddles gathered on the floor of his chambers, channeled in grooves between the packed stone brick. The little rivers rushed toward you from where he stood by the ironwood door, the peaks of his frame cast in the dark of the dim-lit space. If not for the shine of his silver hair and the ghastliness of his pallor in the torchlight, he would have been unrecognizable. Even sure that it was him, you found yourself calling out warily.

“Aemond?”

“Aemond.”

His name fit in your mouth too well. You liked the feel of it, how it felt rolling off your tongue. In a place like King’s Landing where all sensations, sights, and smells, were new, Aemond felt familiar. Perhaps it was simply the shock of seeing another child at court. Let alone seeing a child with an eyepatch. 

“Prince.” At the sound of his stern whisper, you peered up at your father, a decorated Lord, in question. “Prince Aemond. Title comes first, just as we practiced.”

You nodded quickly, nervously, as if you got caught sneaking a sweet past curfew. “Yes, Prince Aemond.”

“And,” your father continued, “the Princess Helaena to the King’s left. It seems that Prince Aegon is absent from court. A strange thing for— Oh! Now, remember.”  

His rushed, last-minute tutelage was cut short as the Lord and Lady in front of you moved from the sword-studded start of the Iron Throne. In their place was a spot for you and your father to greet the members of the Royal Family present. You swallowed hard at the sight before a guiding hand set on your back and pushed you forward. 

The closer you got, the more you saw of King Viserys’ mangled features: his grey face sunken in the cheeks and eye sockets with sores dotting his every stretch of skin. Though, it looked as though his maesters went to some effort to obscure the bloody splotches with salves made to match what you assumed was the pale color of his flesh before sickness claimed it. When the King opened his mouth to greet you and your father, you saw that his teeth were grey too, at least where they weren’t missing.

“By the Gods! How good it is to see you! The last time, I do believe, you were still Daemon’s squire, yes? And— Why, is this your little one?”

“‘Tis indeed, your Majesty.”

King Viserys beamed and you stayed as still as stone, unwilling to show fear despite the state of his smile. “Well,” he continued, “I do hope our children will grow close, strengthening the bond between our great Houses. Hmm?”

“Yes, yes, your Majesty, as do I.” Your father nudged you and your mouth immediately went dry. It took everything you had to wrench your gaze from King Viserys and look to the left. Helaena seemed unresponsive, light eyes dancing about the room, looking everywhere save for you.

“It’s customary to bow.”

Your eyes shot to the right, to Aemond. Prince Aemond. He was scowling at you, his face turned up in seeming disgust; but unlike the visage of his father, Aemond’s face, the jagged scar, still red with relative freshness, did not frighten you in the slightest. Your father, on the other hand, made a mortified rasping sound.

“Already a stickler for pageantry, my Aemond,” Viserys flattered.

“Prince Aemond,” you corrected. “Title comes first.”

The King laughed, though, with his throat full of phlegm, it came out more of a cough. “Why, what a match you two are already.”

At his father’s words, you watched on, pleased, as Prince Aemond’s scowl faded, albeit slowly, away.

“Aemond?” 

You called out to him again, stepping towards his shadowy figure. Closer now, you saw his eye gleaming in the limited light, how it was fixed on the floor, the racing drips in the tile. He did not raise his head as you grew close enough to touch. The untraceable distance between you was suddenly insurmountable and it made your stomach twist.

“What is it? What happened?”

Even after eight years of it, you never bored of the dance: sneaking through the Red Keep, tracing alleys down to the training yard. Your spot was always saved by the squires, who, faces ruddy with work, were too worn and watchful to make note of your presence. Hidden enough behind their slim shoulders, you could safely watch the Sers spar. Though, it was not for their cacophony that you made such moves.

It was for the music made by Aemond’s singing blade.

“Can you see back there?”

“Yes,” you hissed, barely looking at the squire in front of you hoping he would hold his craning neck back with the ask, likely assuming you were some other yard hand watching on. You perched yourself on the tips of your toes and caught a glimpse of racing silver. The crowd rose up in turn and you heard the dull, heavy thud of a leather-armored body hitting the packed dirt. Hoots and hollers resounded about the yard, bringing a wide smile to your lips.

“Aemond fell Boric the Beast?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Prince Aemond,” the squire corrected, his head turning to look at you, eyes wide in appalled surprise. You noted the scarlet cloths he adorned, the scattered ten pellets that echoed the growing reach of House Cole. “The Prince fell the Beast.”

“Yes, Prince Aemond,” you echoed, suddenly feeling a bit too seen and far too memorable as the squire studied you with disgust. He had marked your face for the ‘offense’ you committed against the royal family, but before he could tag you for it, the ramble of the crowd swallowed him whole. The men bounced and bobbed, eager for the next match, shouldering one another towards the center. You took advantage of the bustle and slipped back into the shadows of the Red Keep.

You set your back against the sun-baked brick and took a trembling breath. Eight years and simply slip of a name could—

“What are you doing here?”

On instinct, your body straightened, ready to greet a man of higher rank, to put on airs of simply being lost somewhere unfit for one of your station. You watched as the shadowy visage approached, all slow and suspecting. Quick to please by the grace of your father’s lessons, you bowed, folding your nerves in your stomach until they were nearly nonexistent.

“My Lord,” you said, dipping your form. “I find myself a touch turned around and-”

“I’m no Lord.”

Prickling fear licked your face until it started to sting. “I-”

“I’m your Prince.”

The figure grew close, allowing the stink of sweat and blood and smoke filled your nose, filling you with a strange sort of relief. “Aemond.”

You immediately melted in him, so fluidly that he had to quickly raise his arms up around you. The leathers of his armor squeaked slightly as Aemond moved, just as the sharpness of nerves eeked out of you with a sigh. At the sound, his hold on you tightened.

“I did not mean to frighten you, only play.”

“No, no,” and as you spoke, you finally met his eyes. With your head craned up against his chest, you were greeted with his jaw and lips first. That was, until, that he tilted his head down, and his bright blue eye drank in the sight of you. For a moment, you forgot you were speaking. “I- Cole’s squire, in the yard…he saw me.”

Aemond raised a brow, lips pursed in question. “And?”

Before you could respond with a biting urgency, he cut you off with a kiss, a ravenous thing that had you backed up against the brick once more with Aemond’s hands guiding your hips. You gasped at the roughness but found yourself leaning into it, letting any worry melt in the warmth of his mouth. Aemond nipped at your lower lip before trailing down the column of your neck.

“Aemond-”

“I will have him dealt with,” he grumbled, pulling away. “Even if he decides to feed the rumor mill, who will the people believe? A nameless face from a lowly vassal or the Prince?”

He held your gaze as the question floated in the limited space between you both. You thought of the squire, House Cole, your own family. A lowly vassal. The Prince. Yes, who would the people believe?

And it was like you were small again, standing in front of the Iron Throne, looking up at ten-year-old Aemond as he, so high upon the unreachable steps, scowling down at you.

Only, in the present, the wound that took Aemond’s eye was no longer raised and red. It was as pink as his post-kiss flush that roared in his cheeks. You reached out and let your fingertips trace the right peak of his face. Immediately, Aemond tilted into your touch. His lips grazed your palm, his eye closed, and you were back in yourself, all too aware of the tightening in your chest.

“My Prince.”

Aemond opened his eye slowly and a smile made his mouth into a curl. 

“My love,” he corrected.

“My love,” you echoed in a sigh, welcoming the easy breath.

Your hand reached up to Aemond’s cheek, but he jerked his head from your reach. 

He was already crossing the room away from you, his pace leading toward the small table nearest the window. There, perched on the marble top, were chalices and bottles of wine that glimmered crimson in the torchlight. You saw how his pale hands wrapped around the neck of one of the bottles and pour the Arbor Red into the nearest cup. You saw how his pale hands trembled as he took a drink.

“My love, you are soaked to the bone, let me undress you and-”

“No,” he barked, turning his back fully to you. “I need you to-”

He made a choked sound and shook his head, the damp, silver strands cascading down his shoulders. You watched his arm move, bringing the chalice of wine back to his lips. His hesitation made your stomach twist painfully and your breaths grew shallow.

“What do you need from me?”

“Stay.”

“It’s nearly dawn.”

Aemond moved then, his bare chest pressing against yours as he propped himself up on his hands to loom over you. Pinned between him and his bed, everything felt like silken sheets. “Do you answer to the sun?”

You bit back a laugh when Aemond ducked his head into the crook of your neck, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there before he kissed it. With him in such good humor, your reply was a teasing one: “I answer to no one.”

“Mmm, no one?” Aemond asked, pulling back. His head is cocked to the side, a smirk playing on his lips so deliciously. “I recall you answering to me last evening.”

You grinned and pressed a hand against Aemond’s shoulder, trying to push him off. He doesn’t budge, and his smirk widens with all the mischief of a young man enraptured. “But that is you.”

“The Prince.”

You push again, but Aemond stays still and smiling. Seeing no other recourse, you craned your neck up and kissed him. He hummed again, and you pushed in time, letting his bare back fall against the sheets. There was no sound of surprise, no break in your joined mouths. When you did pull yourself from him, Aemond tried to hold you close, your hips against his.

Any move you made was a move he allowed. “Aemond,” you pressed, warningly.

“My love,” he replied, his tone mimicking yours. You shook your head at his teasing, blamed yourself for letting his play chip away at the moment.

“I love you,” you said, redirecting your mind by focusing on his eye, how the blue shown in the early slivers of sun. “Not the Prince. You, Aemond. You know this.”

“Dōna run,” he breathed, High Valyrian dripping easily from his tongue. “How charming it is that you see the two as separate.”

“They are. You are different at court, in the yard, with your family. With me you are honest and unrehearsed,” you brushed your thumb along his lips, tracing his expression, “true.”

“True.” He chewed on the word before frowning. “Then, I fear I do not recognize myself.”

“Well, I see you.”

You leaned down and cupped his face in your hands. His jaw was hard against your palms and itchy with silver stubble. With your thumbs, you pushed Aemond’s lips into a smile before you let the corners of his mouth fall again. After a second time, the smile stuck without your holding it in place and you laughed.

“There you are.”

Aemond flexed his abdomen beneath you and moved to sit up, capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss. His hands rose up from your bare hips to your sides, before racing up to your neck. Against your thighs, you felt his body roll up towards you and the sensation sent a shock through you. A gasp parted your lips and had Aemond grinning like a fool.

“There you are,” he echoed, before kissing you again. “Now, tell me how you see me.”

His hips ground against yours as his mouth continued on with the teasing the skin of your neck. “Aemond.”

“Listen to your Prince- your love.”

“Go.”

“Go?”

You watched as he took another gulp of wine before he threw the empty chalice to the cold floor. It clattered and your stomach lurched in fright. Wine droplets dripped off the lip of the cup and melded into the rain storm Aemond left on the stone tile. Rivers of red raced about the room then, echoing gruesome tourney’s past. Or those to come.

“Leave,” Aemond said at last. “Go back to whatever middling plot your father was gifted by my King Father to buy his silence regarding my Rogue Uncle’s doings and leave.”

“Aemond-”

In a rush of silver, he spun on his heel and faced you. His eye was bright blue, burning from within itself as if dragonfire were his flesh. Through bared teeth and with a pointed finger, he growled, “do not. Do not- Address me as befitting your station or I will have the guards remove you.”

An ache filled you and tightened about your chest. “Ae- My Prince, have I done something to offend you so that you wish for my absence?”

Aemond’s flared nostrils shrank with an unsteady breath, as did the twitching of his eye. He dropped his pointed finger and straightened his stance. How different he seemed from himself moments ago, though, even then, unrecognizable.

“I am to wed a Lady of Storm’s End.”

Tears sprung from your eyes. “Do you not even know her name?”

Aemond answered with silence and the ache grew inside you like a tree. Its thick roots anchored you to the floor and wrapped around your throat. All you had was your mind and it was tangled, trying to find reason when there was none. You could not even find Aemond’s gaze as he kept it fixed to the ground, waiting for it to fall out from under you, you imagined bitterly.

“What,” you choked out, shaking your head, your tears adding to the small flood. “What happened? Please, let me see you.”

After a long beat, Aemond lifted his head then, his eye, no longer ablaze, found yours. “I am ordering you to leave.”

The ache began to change, burning itself into a plague of frustration. You dared to step towards him, and when he did not say a word, you took another. Then, another, until finally you could feel his shallow breaths and smell the storm that clung to him. “Let me see you.”

He took a breath and you saw his shoulders sink slightly as he replied, “war is brewing, and you- I need you to leave.”

“And your marriage secures the Baratheons as your allies,” you realized, taking a step back. “You’re playing Prince again.”

“I am not playing Prince,” he growled, his brows furrowing and anger returning to fill out his deepening voice. “I am the Prince, I was born for this. You simply elected to be blind to it, to my duty. Blind to this,” he gestured between the two of you, “and its predestined end.”

You nodded. “A lowly vassal.”

“What?”

“When the Cole squire saw me, you asked me who the people would believe: a lowly vassal or the Prince. I believed in you.”

“The me you thought you saw,” he spat, stepping towards you, closing the gap. You could feel the heat of him emanating off of him like the stink of a feral boar.

“I saw you,” you reached out with a shaking hand and pressed your palm against his chest before you brought yourself closer with one last step. “And I fear I always will.”

You leaned up on the tips of your toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. When you backed away, you saw red in the whites of Aemond’s eye, a glimmering threat of tears. Tears you knew he would not let fall, even after you had gone. Yet, you still believed in him, that maybe he saw himself, who he could be, and would allow himself the grace to move.

“I wish you good fortune in the days that come,” you murmured and made your way towards the door. As you stepped out into the halls of the Red Keep for the last time, you heard the thud of knees against stone and a bitten-back cry.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

For the smut prompt thing how about ❛ is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them? ❜ with of course the king himself Aegon ii

Aegon ii SMUT Prompt #4

pairing: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x wife!fem!Reader

warnings: jealous!Aegon, hint of dub con, swearing, male oral receiving, reference to p in v sexual intercourse.

It was probably not your greatest nor your smartest decision to toy with your temperamental husband, Aegon, like this… Let alone, the King of the Seven Kingdoms. His temper was short paced and filled with an anger that was solace on the outside, rupturing from within. His face did not do so well to mask the jealousy, although he did not rise nor did he yell. He meekly continued to sit and scorn, his stern gaze burning through your insides.

It was just an innocent, little dance. One with a random spirited highborn lord of the Vale, nothing more. Aegon wouldn’t have taken you to dance, so why waste the night rotting behind some table, as the people cams and went to speak to their King, not even for you…

As you returned to the table, you meekly watched Aegon from the side, his jaw and fists had been clenched tightly, only when he took a swing of his wine, did the tension release, as his palms stretched out.

Your gentle hand rose above, landing itself over his, as you tightly grip his in reassurance. Although it was a pointless gesture. He remained stoic and stagnant, only exchanging a serious side glance, coughing before resuming to look towards the bustling, loud crowd before him.

A few seconds passed, before he leaned closer towards your cowering frame, a deep growl echoing through his lips as he spoke.

“Do not think you will go unpunished, for your whorish shenanigans,” Both your eyes fixated on one another, Aegon’s with a menacing look, as yours reflected fear, slightly gulping in response.

May the Gods grant you strength to prepare for the long night ahead…

****

You’d managed to excuse yourself early from the dinner, attempting to prepare some pathetic apology to stutter at Aegon. You know would be no use: one thing you’d learnt about your beloved husband, was if his mind was made, it was made.

No, an apology would not suffice. Pacing around the room, you instead came to a half, as the grand idea hit you, like a flame lit in darkness.

If your beloved thought of you a whore, then so be it, a whore you shall be… For him alone.

You prepped yourself, changing into a sheerer, more unmodest nightly gown, as you undid your hair, combing it through. Spritzing yourself with Aegon’s favourite scent that he often openly proclaim was his “weakness”, drenching yourself in that rose fragrance. Anything to make the man lessen his penalty.

You positioned yourself sensually over the bed, making yourself comfortable and warm against its fabric, just in time for Aegon’s sudden arrival.

“There you are-”

A cheeky smirk spiked across your face, as Aegon’s lilac eyes widened in shock. It seemed he was not expecting to walk in on this sinful sight of his wife before him, hastily shutting the door to avoid any lurking eyes.

He stood by the door, before you ushered for him to come. The strong rose scent lingering over you, his nostrils flared as it inhaled you in. Like the scent of fresh blood to a dragon, the pupils in his eyes dilated.

Laying him down carefully, as though not to startle him, you begin to undo his shirt, folding it aside as you gazed upon his wide, bare chest. Next, his bottoms, as you began to undo the buttons but by bit until it was loose enough. His cock still hidden beneath his garments, straddling yourself on top, your cunt in line with it, you could sense it’s growing nature, the hard, dense feeling poking through between your folds.

“I know what I did was a naughty thing, my King. But rest assured, no punishment is necessary… Let me make it up to you, my King.”

Your arms stretched out over his, as you held them down over his head with your weight. Your lips found their way to his collarbone hidden beneath muscle and flesh, suckling at his soft, pale skin, leaving a wet trail of kisses, making your way slowly down to his stomach.

“Hmmm, fuck-” Was all he could muster and moan for the time being, his breathing grew heavier and slow, as his chest would pace in and out with your every move.

Your cunt grinding over his stiff, large bulge, this familiar yearning brewing inside as you could feel your folds practically throbbing for him.

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations? By fucking your way out of them?”

He growled, a deep, low chuckle followed his taunting words, as you pulled his briefs low enough, your face met with his bare cock.

“First, I like to suck… Suck you out dry, before I sit my pretty cunt over your cock, my King. It’ll be the utmost honour.”

Earning yet another pleasurable, growling chuckle from your husband, you each exchanged a fleeting look of excitement, a bright smile plastered across your face, before you lips curled over his rigid, thick cock. Regardless of the many times you’d often found yourself in this position, his size you could never quite accomodate to. Gagging as you adjust with his tip just hitting at your uvula, until the sensation had grown familiar, and controllable. His pre-cum oozing inside, costing your cheeks from within, his mindless moans and swears, whimpering out your name. His hand found it’s way behind your head, shoving you in deeper, desperate to fuck your face in further, the warmth of your breath from your noise tainting his skin over his balls, his hips bucked forward even more, trying to etch himself further inside.

“That’s it b-baby. Let it be known, both th-that pretty mouth and pretty cunt of yours, belongs to me.”

[barbarianbookhoe]

Hi!! ♥️🌻

I saw your requests are open and I just read the one you just posted from Aleksander.

I wanted to see if you wanted to write a story that came to mind when I read your story (it's okay if you don't feel like writing it because it seems repetitive to you)

What if it goes back to the time when the Darkling created the fold.

Aleksander is married to an inferni and they both have a small child, so when the king's men find him in the cabin by accident they end up hurting his son and he dies.

The reader and he are devastated and the Darkling, seeing his wife on the verge of collapse, decides to corrupt himself and create the fold against Ravka.

And that is the villain origin of The Darkling and his wife

(Maybe you could put in a bit of Baghra talking to Aleksander or the reader about her grandson)

Hope you have a nice day and I'm excited to read the stories you post ♥️🤗

Christ on a stick, you thought about that a lot at night? It's an insanely good request (and I might just believe it that if he had a wife, this might've been one reason for him to become a villain)

A/N: Again, thank you for your patience love!

The end feels kinda rushed and cringe-y, but meh, I tried my best

What you made me

TW: character going slowly mad with grief, child death (2), assault, angst

(Some of the things in the story are really not for the weak!)

They came without warning.

It was a peaceful night, nothing out of the ordinary, the fresh midnight air easing his exhaustion that seemed to follow him for the past weeks.

His wife wasn't that energetic either, but at least they knew her reasons for being tired all the time. Growing another life inside their body tends to do that to women.

Aleksander couldn't wait to finally get home to his family. His wife, one of the most cunning Infernis he's ever met, their three year old son, who seemed to look like his exact replica, and their unborn daughter, who they were excited to meet in just a few short months.

As soon as he opened the front door to their home, Aleksander heard the quiet footsteps hurrying to him in the candlelight. His wife hugged him with such force, he had to take a step back to fully balance both of them.

When he slightly let go of his wife, she didn't hesitate to give a weak slap to his face. Aleksander looked bewildered. "What was that for?"

"For not informing me about you coming home later than usual. I've been worried sick for the last four hours, wondering where the fuck you are!"

Y/N whisper shouted at him, so as not to wake their son. Her gaze could've melted stone right in that moment. Aleksander didn't like to be on the receiving end of her furious glare.

Then she pulled him by his neck and kissed him as if he had been away for not four hours, but four years. Her kiss was tender, yet commanding. Aleksander didn't stop until she pulled away first.

"And this, is for coming home to us." Y/N pressed her forehead against his, as he put a hand over her bump. It wasn't that big yet, but it was enough for anyone to know she wasn't alone in her body.

"She's been kicking a lot today. Drives me mad," Y/N said and her husband laughed. "I bet she's just excited to meet you."

"Just four more months and she'll be here." She smiled a little at the thought. Aleksander kissed her again, and she melted into his hug.

There was an urgent knock on the door, which made the couple turn towards the door. Aleksander gave Y/N a look, and she immediately went into her son's room, out of sight.

They came without warning.

Aleksander just put his hand on the doorhandle, when suddenly it busted open and soldiers of the Army dragged him out of the house and kicked him onto the ground.

Aleksander could hear muffled sounds from his home, then his son was shouting and sounds of a fight could be heard. Then he saw the soldiers dragging his pregnant wife out the door, with their son crying into her neck as she held him, a gun pointed at her head.

Y/N was an Inferni. One of the best. Actually, if Aleksander was honest with himself, she was the best of the best. More trained and in control of her powers than anyone he's ever seen. Before he could ask himself why didn't she use her powers, he quickly reminded himself that if she did, it would cause more trouble than what they were in right now.

Y/N slowly walked with the soldier beside her, the gun still at her temple, and got stopped in front of Aleksander. She didn't let her fear show, but her husband knew that she was terrified. Their son was in lethal danger, and they both knew that if the situation got out of hand, they could lose their unborn child too.

Aleksander tried to remain calm, all the while counting the guns pointed at him and his family. The soldiers began arguing with him, listing crimes he did never commit, connecting every single one of them to the fact he was born a Grisha. Not just an ordinary one, but a Shadow Summoner at that.

The shot came without warning.

He could see the war behind their hateful gaze, they admired him just as much as they feared him. And nothing is more powerful than fear. Even the slightest second, the tiniest bit of dread can make you lose everything you hold dear.

Aleksander tried to reason with them, calmly at first. Doing everything they said, trying to make them see he is not the monster the rumors make him appear to be.

Then he tried playing mind games on them, manipulating them, pointing their fear towards something else, convincing them with everything he could.

He saw the soldiers leave her wife and son alone, now focusing more on him. He swallowed down the relieved sigh that was about to escape him.

But it only lasted a few seconds, before their leader began yelling, figuring out he was using them to leave them alone. It soon turned into an argument where Aleksander still tried to hold back himself from killing every one of them for putting a hand on his family.

It turned into a fight. Aleksander still refused to use his powers, no matter the urge he felt to do the exact opposite.

One second the soldiers were crowding in on Aleksander. One of them tripped with their gun still in hand.

The shot came without warning.

The next second all he could hear was the painful shriek of his wife. He turned his only a second but it was enough to make him lose control.

Their son's blood all over Y/N's face and hands as her whole body seemed to tremble, her eyes looking at the ground. Her face was full of shock and nothing else, as if her thoughts ceased to exist.

Another scream left her, more painful than the first as she slowly collapsed on her knees and cried for their son.

Aleksander couldn't look at the scene anymore. His focus was on the soldiers now. The urge he felt before, the urge to destroy, it came back with full force. And he let it out.

The shadows consumed everything and for a split second there was nothing except darkness. The sound of a blade whoosing through the air could be heard and all of the soldiers were dead.

Aleksander quickly dropped down in front of his weeping wife. He tried to get her up, to escape somewhere they won't find them, but she was still in too much shock to focus on anything else than her son.

"Please, my love, I beg of you, we need to get out of here." Aleksander begged with tears in his eyes, not wanting to lose her too. Y/N looked up at him with eyes full of pain, the blood a horrifying reminder on her face.

"This-this is, it's just, it's just paint," Y/N stuttered, trying to make a coherent sentence, then she nodded, as if confirming something. "It's just paint." She nodded again, and Aleksander watched her with a sad face.

Eventually he was able to help her up from the ground and he quickly gathered some of their stuff from the house, most of them being clothes and their son's blanket. He gave the blanket to Y/N, who immediately wrapped their dead son in it, as if it could warm him up. Aleksander didn't have the heart to explain to his grieving wife their son was dead, when she was in such a shock. It would do more damage than good.

They made their way through the forest, only stopping to drink or for Y/N to rest a little. They finally arrived to a small cottage on the edge of the forest, and the sun was just about to come up. Baghra rushed them inside, her face full of worry.

They sat down at the small table in the kitchen, Aleksander and Baghra constantly talking about what happened, when Y/N spoke up.

"We need warm water," she whispered and Aleksander turned to her. "Of course," he said and grabbed a bowl to get some water for them. Baghra looked at the blood on her face and her grandson in Y/N's arms, wrapped in a blanket that had bloodstains on it.

"I need to wash it off. It's just paint." She said and Baghra looked at her with concern. Aleksander was about to tell her to leave his wife alone, but Baghra gently lifted the blanket from her grandson's face. Seeing his lifeless eyes, his pale skin and the dried blood on the back of his head, Baghra had to muffle a cry.

"It's just paint." Y/N whispered again, and began to rock her son gently, as if he was upset.

As if he was still alive.

That's what Y/N's been saying ever since that night. Whenever Aleksander or Baghra tried to take her son out of her arms, to check up on her properly, or to get her to sleep at least a few hours, she would say it.

He was just sleeping.

Her grip would tighten around the boy, out of protection, as she'd say he's just tired and he just needs to sleep. Sometimes she would rock him gently, or humm a lullaby to him, or even tuck him to bed, as if he was still alive.

Y/N was more like a ghost, never seeming to eat, never seeming to sleep, to talk, to move, or do anything beside taking of her son's corpse.

Aleksander was begging her to eat, day and night, never getting more than a few bites down her throat. He tried to reason with her, if not for herself than do it for their unborn daughter, who quite literally won't survive without her mother.

That made some life return to Y/N, and she began to eat a little more every day. Eventually she didn't even notice when she started to eat four or five times a day, always too caught up in her thoughts that never seemed to stop.

There was a small part of her, a voice in her head trying to get her back to reality. Make her see that if she tries to bury her pain it will slowly destroy her. Make her see that she needs to take care of her well-being.

It was as if her brain was trying to keep her awake, so as not to relieve her pain in her nightmares. As if she was trying to block out reality and slowly create her own world, where her son was still alive and smiling and running around.

He was just sleeping.

But it was grotesque just looking at herself: she was getting bigger and bigger as she came closer to giving birth, meanwhile her son remained still and pale as a ghost, never growing anymore.

She tried to bury her pain, alter her grief in a way it would hurt least, create a aworld inside her where none of it happened, where her sweet boy was smiling at her.

One day she was tucking her son to sleep in the late afternoon, the sun not setting yet, when she touched her son's face and noticed the dried blood. She's been touching her dead son for months, but today was the day when it felt real.

When she finally realized that this was not her son anymore, this was not the little boy she loved, this was no more than a cold body, a corpse, waiting to be buried.

Aleksander practically burst through the door when he heard his wife's painful scream. He quickly held her close to his chest as she cried over her son's corpse. These past few months he'd been on edge, waiting for Y/N to finally snap out of her head.

It hurt him to see her in so much pain the first time. He did not imagine it would be just as painful the second time.

Y/N wailed, screamed, sobbed, eventually she even began to burn the coat off Aleksander's arms, but he didn't care. He soothed the flames a little with his shadows, but let his wife let it all out. He wasn't going to stop her from grieving.

Aleksander didn't imagine it to be just as painful as the first time. He had soon realized it can be even worse.

Blood was dripping on Y/N's legs as she cried. Her head was throbbing from all the screaming and crying, her chest was getting tighter and tighter from the pain, and she felt like she was burning.

She felt the blood slowly dripping from between her legs while Aleksander was shouting something to Baghra. In her painful cries she realized what was happening.

She began sobbing even more.

Baghra had to deliver the baby, even though she was coming nearly two months earlier. Y/N had to push the baby out, even though she wasn't in active labour yet. If she waited too long, the baby would get stuck, and both of them would die.

The girl was born still.

Y/N was still holding her dead newborn weeks later. She was rocking her, humming lullabies for her, changing her, even smiling down at her and holding her little hand, talking to her.

She began to alternate her pain again. This time it became a lot worse a lot more sooner. It wasn't just the baby anymore, she brought her dead son into her made up world too. She would act as if both children were alive and happy, one time even sitting with them in the garden and talking with them.

Her son was sleeping, because he was running around all day.

Aleksander and Baghra could only watch her descend into madness. Whenever they tried to get her back to reality, to let her grieve her children properly, as soon as she realized she would have to leave the imaginary world behind, she acted like nothing was wrong.

After another month of his failed attempts, Aleksander had enough. One day he stood in front of his wife, who was about to get their son from the bed, and he stopped her.

Her daughter was sleeping, because babies sleep a lot during the first months.

"This has to stop." He commanded, and Y/N looked at him playfully. "I know I shouldn't smolder him this much, but he's just-"

"He's dead!" Aleksander told her. "He's-," His voice cracked and he had to swallow down the lump in his throat.

"Our son is dead, Y/N. Our daughter too. Both of our children are dead." He whispered, not hiding the pain in his voice while grabbing Y/N's face between his hands, trying to make her understand.

"That's not funny. They're just sleeping, you know how kids are-" Y/N reasoned with him, but it made him snap at her.

"Our children are dead for fuck's sake!" Aleksander shouted, the tears evident in his red, sleepless eyes. "Our son was shot right outside our home, and our daughter was born dead." He said as if stating facts. They were facts, but he had to tell them to her face to get her to realize.

"I beg of you Y/N, please, don't bury your pain any deeper. I cannot see you drive yourself into madness." He shook his head, not caring how desperate he sounded. He was willing to do anything at this point to get a reaction out of her.

Y/N looked at him worriedly, but it soon turned into a knowing look, a look that screamed of pain, grief and fear.

"They're just sleeping." She whispered and tears streamed down her face. She remained neutral, though her voice was filled with agony. "They're just sleeping."

She kept saying those words as recognition filled both of their eyes.

Aleksander realized she's been aware of her loss, but she refused to believe it, hoping it would take away her pain if she tried to erase the facts from her mind.

Y/N realized her children were gone, dead. Her husband has been trying to keep the last piece of her sanity still in tact, hoping she wouldn't succumb to madness, or depression, or worse, suicide.

Baghra helped them make a grave and thombstone for both their son and daughter. Y/N and Aleksander stayed at their graves long after Baghra went inside to give them privacy. They just stared at the graves in silence, the tears dried on their faces, with sore eyes and probably empty gazes.

Y/N grabbed Aleksander's hand and gave him a tight squeeze, as she spoke up.

"I want to kill them." Her voice was no louder than a whisper, filled with agony. Aleksander looked at her as she turned to look at him.

"I want all of them to feel the pain that I have to feel." Her voice wavered as her gaze lit up in anger. "I want the world to burn."

Aleksander looked at his wife without surprise, without guilt, without any kind of remorse about what he was going to do.

"Then we destroy them."

Y/N and Aleksander stood side by side in their beautiful keftas, the black and red colors foreshadowing the soldiers' fate.

Aleksander let go of the reign holding his powers, therefore he began creating something that would change their lives forever.

Y/N was true to her words: she burned everything that came across her way. They didn't call her the best of the best just because of the title. Her power had the ability to improve itself, to evolve into something far bigger than she ever would've imagined.

She only needed the least bit of heat, wether from nature or from the human body itself, for her to conjure her fire.

She burned them. All of them.

Her hunger to avenge everything she had to lost, became far greater than she thought at first. She told herself she wasn't a killer, she wasn't a monster.

But what is a monster, if not the one who enjoys inflicting pain without remorse? And enjoying it, Y/N did. She smiled as she watch the last of the soldiers scream for mercy, the mercy she was not allowed to have.

Baghra tried to reason with the both of them as she watched the Fold slowly divide Ravka. She argued with them what the consequences of their actions are, that power like this has a price they might not be willing to give.

Y/N stepped closer to the woman, the emotions gone from her eyes.

"Do you know ehat it feels like to watch your own children die?" She asked and Baghra didn't know how to answer. She looked at the girl with grief, opening her mouth to convince her of stopping, but Y/N grabbed the collar of her dresd and yanked her closer.

"Watching your children, your own flesh and blood, their lives slowly slipping away in your own fucking hands, all the while knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it." Y/n said, her voice a mix of anger and sadness, with a hint of madness creeping in.

Aleksander put a hand on her shoulder, silently telling her to stop and just go, but she didn't stop.

"You think I wouldn't avenge their death? Did you seriously believe that I wouldn't bring justice in their name?" Y/N chuckled silently, but it sounded like a madman's laugh, slowly slipping into insanity.

"Every single one of them, every single person who believes, or even thinks about Grisha as the enemy, as the monster, will pay the price for my children's death. Was it not for them, they would still be alive. And I will not stop, not until the last person against Grisha is dead, burning under my fingertips." She threatened and stepped away from Baghra, who now had a very concerned look on her face.

"And I will look them in the eye and laugh, and laugh, as they die." Y/N told her at last, and turned to walk away from her. Aleksander had a firm hand on her back, his belief in her not wavering for one second.

Together, they will create a new order, a better Ravka, where Grisha will no longer be the subject of the world.

Where Grisha are no longer a threat.

Where Grisha can live like Kings and Queens.

[asmallcommitteeoffrogs]

The way I see it, each life series is related to a season.

Third Life- Fall

Last Life- Winter

Double Life- Spring

Limited Life- Summer

Secret Life- Fall

Real Life- Winter?

Third Life is fall. Now, you might say, "but, Frog, what about Red Winter?" to which I point out that Red Winter was coming, but it never fully came. The Red King and Dogwarts fell before it could ever officially be winter. Third Life is also fall because of the slow decent into death of everything as well as scarcity of resources as winter approaches. It's not winter yet, but it lurks on the horizon and as things get colder, so do the players and their relationships with each other.

Last Life is winter. I haven't actually seen Last Life in a while so this might not be a great analysis but bear with me. Everyone sort of went into this season with an almost sense of scramble and knowing what was to come. The winter set in quick and they all made their groups hastily in an attempt for shelter (which ended up causing unstable alliances). The boogyman caused distrust as players just tried to survive and keep themselves safe. Everything feels inevitable and every player is aware of what's at the end. I have strong feelings about this one, but if anyone else who is more familiar with Last Life wants to add on, please please do.

Double Life is spring. Third time around, everybody is sort of starting to get used to the game and how it goes. They know what'll happen, but their attitudes are lighter. The ranchers ranch, new fresh partnerships are made, and everyone is sort of out and about. New elements are introduced such as, goat horns, allays, frogs, powdered snow, and the warden (rip Rancher's Revenge). The whole energy feels kind of excited and fresh in a way. Like just coming out of hibernation.

Limited Life is summer. I feel like I don't need to explain this one too much. The amount of water and ocean themes we get tie into the warm weather aspect. Everyone is social with each other (even if that's because of murder). I've seen this season compared to little kids playing pretend on the playground which sort of ties in with the fun and lighthearted energy. And yet the ticking timer reminds them that nothing, not even summer, can last forever (play 2000's teen summer movie trailer music here)

Secret Life is fall and it's the start of the season cycle again. Lizzie's pumpkin vibes help this theory. This season also had a sense of division to it with the secret tasks forcing people to go off on their own most of the time. In sort of a call back to Third Life, this season could be seen as a omen of what's to come in the winter, and I think that with, as the biggest thing, the Canary Curse getting broken can show that these people have changed and that they are prepared for the winter ahead and that things are going to be different.

And then I guess Real Life would be winter. I haven't quite figured out where this fits into my season theory, but I feel like it could show how this winter is different than the ones that came before. I admit, this season was too short to get a great vibe, so depending on the next season it might get cut to Fall 2.0 (cause I definitely think it's been accepted as canon and I don't want to just remove it)

Anyways those are my thoughts. I'd love to hear what anybody else thinks. I definitely could have said more about some of these but I don't want to ramble too much. I also feel like this could kind of tie into some funky things with the winners too, but I'll save that for another time.

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 4371 (chapter 36)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

WE ARE COOKING YA'LL

36. Interlude

"This doesn't change anything, Ben."

"Except now we know who your king of diamonds is." Foggy adds to Karen's words and looks at Ben, standing in the the middle of the office.

"You see the news? Everything's changed. Fisk has gotten out in front of being dragged into the spotlight. My editor thinks he's the Second Coming. Hell, the whole city does." Ben pulls out a fresh newspaper, Fisk proudly occupying the whole front page.

"So, we just... We keep digging."

"I've been doing that. Internet went from nothing on Fisk to filled with three-hanky stories about a poor little fat kid from Hell's Kitchen. Abandoned by his father when he was 12. Mother died a year later. Now look at him. Boot straps and a big dream." Ben exhales loudly, rubbing his forehead.

"Somebody knows something. It's just a matter of asking the right people the right questions in the right tone of voice." Foggy says, sure of his words.

"Yeah, that's how you get yourself hurt." Ben raises his eyebrows theatrically.

"That's what I keep telling them." Matt silently slips inside the office upon Ben's last words. "Maybe they'll listen to you."

"Ben Urich, Matt Murdock. Attorney at Why the Hell Bother." Karen introduces the two of them with a hint of annoyance.

"Mr. Murdock." Ben shakes his hand.

"Matt." Matt corrects Ben, hearing your slow steps outside in the corridor.

You return to the office, moments later, noticing a new face in the middle of the room. Extending your arm, you intently look at his face, "I know you from somewhere."

"Ben Urich, New York Bulletin." He takes your hand, eyes shining in a weird way, as if he knew more about you than you did. Taking in your rather disheveled appearance. 

"Y/n." You let go of his hand first, "You were that journalist in courtroom when I had my case televised."

"Yes, and I gotta say, it was a pretty damn good case." He cracks a smile, yet you don't show any signs of appreciation.

"You also wrote about the attack on me at Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz. Could've tried to write at least a believable amout of lies." You say, watching his reaction.

His smile doesn't fall, on the contrary, it only gets bigger, "Well, in my line of work, that's a compliment.

Foggy shakes his head at the interaction and brings back the previous topic, "My partner thinks we should be pursuing this through the legal system."

"A lot safer that way." Ben agrees.

"Well, why don't we all just crawl under the covers, then?" Karen ignites again, and you close your eyes in hopes of keeping your mouth shut this time, already catching up with the talk.

"No, Karen-" Matt begins softly, only to be cut short by Karen.

"Well, I'm sorry, but if Fisk is really behind everything that has happened, then we need to do something."

"If we were the only ones after him, I'd tend to agree." Ben says mysteriously, "Friend of yours came to see me the other night the man in the mask."

"Terrorist cop-killer." Foggy repeats Fisk's previous words, and you can't help but agree with Fisk here. Your heart drops and face becomes even paler than it was since the day started.

"Says he was framed." Ben adds nonchalantly, turning around to catch everyone's expressions. Matt turns his back away from the group.

"I could say I'm Captain America, but it doesn't put wings on my head." Foggy rolls his eyes, only to be shut by Karen.

"What did he want?"

"Same thing we do... expose Fisk. I printed this from a thumb drive he gave me." Ben hands Karen a bunch of papers. She snatches them like a hawk and hurries to sit behind her desk. In the meantime, you lean on the nearby wall, feeling that the dizziness from lack of sleep and not eating normal food is finally catching up with you. 

"Oh, my God!" Karen exclaims and starts flipping through the pages. 

"Told me Fisk was behind the bombings and shooting those cops said he owns half the police that they helped him take down the Russians." Ben continues, looking around the room again, and takes a notice that you're not yourself today. He remembers vividly that day when he sat in the courtroom during your televised case - you were almost glowing and full of life. Now it seemed to him that you were either sick or angry or depressed.

"But I don't understand. If you have all of this, then..." Karen blabbers again, only this time Matt interrupts her. 

"Hearsay. Can't print any of it without corroboration, can you?"

"He could just be throwing smoke. I mean, he just killed Detective Blake." Foggy adds, much to Matt's displease.

"Said Blake's partner Hoffman did it, probably on Fisk's orders. But yeah, it occurred to me." Ben nods.

"You could talk to Hoffman." Matt pouts in thought, and you almost find it amusing in this kind of situation.

"Tried. He's in the wind. Or bottom of the river. Either way."Ben shrugs, now completely helpless. 

"He just shrugged." Foggy says to Matt.

"Wait, what about the Union Allied money? Is there a way that we can tie it directly to Fisk?" Karen rises from her chair. 

"Maybe. According to the Mask, a man named, uh, Leland Owlsley runs the books. But since getting roughed up by him, Owlsley's been surrounded by Fisk's security. Can't get anywhere near him." Ben shakes his head, "Same goes with, uh, James Wesley, the guy you said hired you to defend Healy." 

Upon the mention of Wesley, you feel two sets of eyes staring at you. "What?" You say defensively, "I'm not in contact with him anymore." Crossing your arms, you turn your eyes towards the window, avoiding making eye contact with anyone in the room. Ben raises an eyebrow at Karen, but she only grimaces slightly, not giving any answer to his wordless question. Matt senses something in your voice, perhaps an underlying lie that he can't put a finger on just yet.

"Look, the Mask came to Ben for help. And I don't care how rich Fisk is, nobody can totally erase their past. I mean, somewhere out there, there has to be a piece of paper, a witness... the truth."

"What about Confederated Global? The suit that hired us to defend Healy standing right next to Fisk when he gave his big speech." Foggy looks at you again, only to find you staring with a hard look on your face out the window. 

"I looked into that. According to FCC filings, Confed Global's where Fisk gets most of his reported income."

"All right, let's play this out. If Fisk is connected to Confed Global, that means he's involved in Westmeyer-Holt Contracting, which Westmeyer-Holt is strong-arming tenants out of their rent-controlled apartments." Matt gestures with his hands slightly, pulling back your attention. For whatever crazy reason, he felt sorry that you were put into this position by Wesley now. After your last burst of emotions, Karen felt distrustful towards you, but in Matt's mind that was understandable reaction.

"Um, they were hired by a guy named Armand Tully." Karen quickly adds.

"The slumlord?" Ben makes sure he heard it right.

"Landman and Zack say he's on vacation on an island that no one can pronounce, where they use coconuts as phones." Foggy shrugs, and you wonder if he's still in contact with Marci. Foggy catches your curious look and feels his cheeks burning.

"Another connection in the wind." Ben hangs his head low, earning an apologetic look from Karen.

"Westmeyer-Holt to Confed to Fisk. We pull that thread, see what it unravels." Matt begins circling around the room.

"Still not sure about this mask guy." Foggy says and you agree with him with a hum.

"He didn't hurt Ben and he didn't hurt me. I'll take the Devil of Hell's Kitchen over Fisk any day. Plus, he kicks ass." Karen says, eyes clashing with you. 

"Karen, you know, maybe refrain from these talks in a law office, or someone might think that you're ready to take his place in jail." You smile at her sourly. Karen bites her lip, clearly not satisfied with the way you put her in her place. "He's a vigilante after all." 

Ben nods to himself again. Your frustration was justifiable, he knew what it felt like to lose a well-paid job and start a new chapter of life. Maybe life wasn't treating you right now.

"Well, if he's such a badass, why did he come to Ben? Why not just take Fisk down himself?" Foggy silently agrees with you. 

"Maybe he knows there's some roads you can't come back from." Ben replies mysteriously.

*** 

You look around, noticing the interior of the church. Clinton Church. You've never been here before. Your parents were not too religious to regularly go to church, so it didn't pass on you either. God? You didn't believe in God, because in the end, you saved yourself, not God. He didn't save you, he didn't save anyone. God was just a mythical creation, made up so that in the worst moments, people wouldn't lose their hope. God didn't mean anything to you, because if he was real, if he was righteous, you wouldn't have to deal with all these injustices everyday. If he was real, the world would've been a better place. But it wasn't. Never going to be.

The lights were lit on only at the front, only near the altar, and you catch yourself looking at the cross and Jesus on it. Was he even real? Or was he only a copy of someone else's imagination? Every cross was different, unique, yet everyone imagined the same man crucified, same man hanging his head to the side, same man with a woven crown of thorns, sticking into his forehead like needles. If he was real, in your mind he was stupid. Sacrificing yourself for the sins of the people? They were not worth it, not then and surely not now. Maybe he was real. Maybe he was a saint, but he was also blind. Blind to notice that humanity wasn't ready to understand his sacrifice, blind to think that it still meant something thousands of years later. Blind like Lady Justice. 

Involuntary, you shiver. The air was rather cool inside the church and somehow, not even your coat was keeping you warm. Turning to your right, you glance at Foggy, eyes cast down into his lap, fingers nervously playing with the hem of his coat. Movement in the front catches your attention and you see Father Lantom emerge from the shadows. He looks at all four of you, eyes lingering on a new face here - you. Feeling uneasy under the intense gaze, you bow your head down, almost in shame. You've never liked priests in general, because they looked at you as if they knew who you were under that facade. Father Lantom notices the change in your face and clear his throat. 

You only hear half of the things that he's saying; distracted by the way sunlight falls though the multicoloured windows and Karen's silent sniffling, you felt like an intruder here. Father continued talking about God, the fragility of life and the values of believing. None of this made sense to you, so you distracted your thoughts from the reason that brought all four of you here. Wesley. That bastard really sugar-coated you before throwing you unprepared to the lions. And now he was proudly marching behind Fisk on live television? You felt sick again, the need to throw up returned, yet there was nothing in your stomach the whole day, and the acidic aftertaste returned. 

"Shall we go?" Foggy nudges your arm gently, and you look at him wide-eyed for a good second. 

"Yeah." You whisper, and get up, letting everyone pass through, side lining with Matt. Father Lantom walks behind the two of you, clearly in thought. Matt has mentioned a woman before, he spoke so fondly of her that Lantom was in no doubt that Matt fell in love. He now wondered if that woman was you, or Karen; but Karen's name has been said when Matt talked about the friendships that he made. So it left him with one answer - you.

"Excuse me, but I don't think I've seen you in church before." Father Lantom comes in between you and Matt, and gives a warm smile, almost making you grimace at his comment. You knew it bound to happen, these type of things were always inevitable.

"Um, yeah, no, I'm not really a churchgoer." You shrug slowly, turning your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. 

"Not religious or not enough time?" Father smiles again, so kindly, that you feel the urge to pour your heart out to him. 

There was that feeling again, feeling that he can read you like an open book. "A bit of both." You say at first, then feeling like it's not a good place for lying, add, "mostly the first one."

"Ah. Well, Matthew here has been caught up in his work, he never visits me these days."

"Father..." Matt begins, feeling exposed. Father knows about his little nightly rendezvous, so it shouldn't really surprise him that he doesn't go to church any more.

"Oh, really?" You ask, stealing a glance at Matt, then crack a small smile, "blame me for this one Father, since he employed me, we've been very busy with work. And... I'm not a particularly good influence on him." 

Matt feels his cheeks heating up.

"Really? Well, Matthew, I'll take it to consideration for your next confession. Whenever that may be."

"Yeah." Matt mutters, thankful to finally go out into the fresh air. 

Nearing the small graveyard that was close to the church, you notice the casket next to the grave. Shivers run down your spine, head full of unpleasant memories and images, but you try to calm yourself, blaming it on the wind. All four of you stand at the end of the grave, watching the graveyard worker lower the casket into the ground slowly, accompanied by the final words that Father is saying to Mrs Cardenas, and almost instinctively, your hand finds Matt's by his side, slipping your fingers between his cold ones. The emotions run wild through your head, your blood, but you only close your eyes, focusing on the warmth that you felt when Matt squeezes your hand back. Opening your eyes, you turn to your right briefly, noticing a single tear rolling down Matt's cheek - so different from the sobbing beside you from Foggy and Karen. You glance at your hands tightly pressed together, so almost perfectly fitting, and only now realize just how close he was standing from the beginning. 

Father closes the Bible, and a quick glance at Matt and you, answers his questions. The way you looked at him told a million things, but most importantly, it told Father that Matt's feeling were not one-sided. 

*** 

"I've been such an asshole to her the first time we met." You scoff, hiding your face behind an almost empty whiskey glass. Foggy and Karen share a look, one that you wouldn't be able to decipher, even if you noticed it in the first place. "I guess they really turn you into a robot in HCB."

"Well, I know for a fact that people turn worse in Landman and Zack." Matt replies, drinking as well. If tonight was about drowning sorrows, he was making sure he fulfilled that.

Karen turns her face towards the TV and her eyes widen immediately. Foggy nudges your elbow, making you turn to look at the screen, and the need to throw up returns again. "Hey, Josie, could you turn that up?"

"No, I never had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Cardenas. I only recently took possession of her building." Fisk blabbers on the screen again, and you notice Wesley standing behind him. How the hell did the press find out about Elena so quickly?

"How do you respond to reports that you knew the tenement was unsafe?" A reporter asks, but Fisk doesn't move a single muscle in protest.

"That is accurate." He replies, taking a pause after the sentence. "That's why we offered a substantial sum to Ms. Cardenas and her neighbours. To help them relocate." He looks around at all the press, Wesley scanning the crowd like a hawk. "We should never let good people get swallowed up by this city. I mourn this woman's death."

You loudly scoff to yourself, and the whole table of Nelson and Murdock find themselves internally agreeing with you. 

"Didn't have to happen. It should've..." Fisk's words get interrupted by Foggy's ringing phone. "Her passing is a symptom of a larger disease..." Foggy fishes his phone and leaves the table. "- infecting all of us. Disease of fear..." The TV glitches for a couple of times, only pieces of sentence are heard. "...fear of bombings, fear of cop killings. Fear of a masked psychopath." 

Matt feels his blood boiling in his alcohol-filled veins.

"We shouldn't let people like that take our city from us. We need to stand together. Let them know that they will fail... because we believe we can make a difference." Fisk's words make you wonder if he has learned the speech beforehand and if Wesley wrote it. After all, he was doing all the butt-kissing. " 'Cause they are cowards! Afraid of stepping out of the shadows. Afraid of standing up for people like Mrs. Cardenas."

"Mr. Fisk, how does this affect the upcoming benefit?" Someone behind the camera shouts.

Wesley steps up into the spotlight, "That will be all. Thank you." Hearing his voice again after days of radio silence caused your anger to spike up.  "No more questions."

"What can we do about this psycho..." another man begins, only to be cut short by a commercial break.

"Jesus, he almost sounds like he means it." Karen is the first one to break the silence.

"I think he does." Matt answers shortly.

Karen scoffs, "And he's calling the man in the mask a psycho?" With this one, you agreed. The man in the mask was a psycho to you, and Karen's enthusiasm to constantly talk about how great he is, sometimes made you think that she was madly in love with the vigilante. "I hope they trace what happened to Elena right to his doorstep."

"He'd never expose himself like that. Plus, half the force is probably in his pocket. Well, then, let's pray the Mask gets his hands on him. Knocks his goddamn head off."

"You religious, Karen?" Matt suddenly asks, but the topic doesn't pick up your attention.  

"My parents were. That's probably why I'm not. You?" 

"Catholic." Matt answers shortly. You receive a fresh whiskey glass and down it in one go, relaxing your muscles when it burns your throat. 

"Does it help? With things like this?" 

"Not today." Matt moves his lips slighly, which looks like a half of a grin. "I think I've had enough. Tell Foggy I'll see him in the morning." You pick up Matt's last words and turn to look at him already getting up to leave.

"Wait, I'm going too." You gently stop him by grabbing his wrist and his whole body goes stiff.

"Hey, Matt. If there is a God and if he cares at all about about any of us Fisk will get what he deserves." Karen says to Matt while you pull out a 100 dollar bill and give it to Josie. "You have to believe that."

"I do." He replies, still lingering next to the table while you put on your coat. 

"Tell Foggy..." you begin, sliding your hand on Matt's elbow a little too comfortably for Karen's liking, but she just puts you down for being drunk, "tell him nothing, I'm an independent woman. Lights out!" You say and quickly disappear in the street. 

Matt says nothing. His mind was occupied by other things, until you decided to grab a taxi together, but eventually agreed to swing by his place. Why? Because Matt insisted on ordering a takeout, adding "I don't think you ate proper food today at all" in a fatherly tone.

*** 

Foggy's new case was interesting for about 30 minutes, while you two shared a huge pizza. The whole time you avoided acknowledging the obvious, not talking about Elena or Fisk at all costs. Before Matt introduced beer to the conversation, which got you quite tipsy and relaxed; if you're not counting the alcohol consumed at Josie's.  At first it was light talk, jokes, giggling and laughing, trying to lighten up the sour mood, until you felt your stomach hurt, but then, as usual, the conversation turned to more serious topics.

Matt spins the bootle in his hand lazily, legs stretched out on the coffee table, as the laughter dies, his face becomes serious, maybe even curious and you wait for his question. "So, what was that thing with you and Karen?"

"What thing?"

"The thing... You know... Shouting one."

"Oh, that." You take a long sip of the beer, trying to delay answering for as long as possible. "I just don't like others in my business, that's all."

"Why's that?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Well it's quite a long story... But in short, some guy almost fucked up mine and Pug's internship."

"Don't leave me hanging now." He shoots a shy grin.

"Well, we got lucky with that internship, very lucky actually." You sigh, stretching your legs on Matt's coffee table as well. "And Dave was there too."

"Oof, I hate Dave already." Matt huffs a laugh, "wait, who's Pug?"

"My college best friend. So, anyway, we basically won the lottery with our internship at Latham & Wakins, this is still one of the best law firms in LA, and only very few students get to intern there. Of course, our professor wanted to send as many students as he possibly could to the firm, mainly caring about his own reputation as the best prof in the whole university, but I know that he also wanted us to succeed. So Pug and I, we get internships, we're over the moon, we go out, drink like there's no tomorrow, and then we bump into one guy from our classes." You clear your throat, taking a sip again.

"Dave, right?" Matt asks, with slow movements loosening his tie. 

"Yeah. So he's a total shit-talker, we're absolutely wasted, and somehow he talks us into getting him into Latham & Wakins. Next day, we go to the offices, they walk us around, introduce us to the bosses and blah blah, and this fucker, he befriends our boss. Not only befriends, he sleeps with her." You raise your eyebrows for a dramatic effect.

"No way." Matt lets out a laugh, going to bring more beer, still paying attention to your talk.

"Guess what happened then. He takes all of our cases. Our prof starts getting angry, he calls the firm's boss, I remember this, we were smoking outside his office when he made the call. So, he calls her, he's like 'my two brightest students are interning at your firm, and three weeks later you still haven't given them a case?'. I have no idea what's happening on the other side of the phone, but our prof is just pissed, he smokes two cigarettes during the whole phone call time, and let me tell you, the guy hasn't smoked in 20 years. He says that he fixed it and we can return to Latham & Wakins. We go there the same day, and we still don't get a fucking case. At this point, I'm fuming, I barge right into our boss's office, and there was Dave. Fucking her on her desk."

"No-" Matt gasps, handing you a new bottle and sitting a bit closer on the sofa than before. 

"I wanted to forget that image for years, and I still can't." You shiver dramatically. "They catch me and Pug in the parking lot, beg us to not expose them and promise that we will get all the best new cases. Of course, we agree, holding it against them that we can and will expose their little affair if it's necessary, because she was a married woman. All's good, we get full marks for our internship, we get paid more than we could've imagined, but just as we step out with our internship documents, we call our prof, and expose that bitch."

"She got fired?"

"Not only that, she's suspended from practising law for five years, and Dave was kicked out of university as soon as he returned." 

"That's one hell of a ride." Matt laughs. "Now it kind of makes sense."

"Pug's the only person I trust with my work, he doesn't seek glory at the cost of others."

"What about me?" Matt's lips perk up into a smirk.

"You don't seem like the Dave-type." You smile warmly, noticing the distance between the two of you. "Although, I don't know you long enough to check that out."

"Not long enough? It feels like ages since I beat you in court." 

"Yeah, and now I work for you." You laugh, earning another smile from Matt. 

Matt suddenly changes the topic, "You know what Elena told me one time when you stepped out to smoke?" This immediately gains your attention.

"What?"

"She said that she has never seen someone so in love, but then there were you." His lips twich slightly. "But it sounded way better in Spanish."

"Why did she tell you that?" You smile, slightly furrowing your eyebrows. Being drunk right now was no help at all.

"She wanted me to know that since... you know, I can't really see those things."

"Oh." You sigh, not pulling your eyes away from Matt, "She was a very smart woman."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, she wasn't wrong." You blurt out, covering your mouth with your hand. 

Matt stretches his hand out, his fingers brush against yours, and he gently takes your hand, touching your nails. "What color are they?" He softly asks, scooting closer.

"My nails?" You ask, trying to hide your surprise that he left with his touch. He nods, expectantly. "Red."

"Red like what?"

You furrow your eyebrows momentarily, but then you understand exactly what Matt meant. "Uh, it's dark red, almost like a chilli pepper or... Blood." His touch makes your head dizzy. "Or your glasses. I hate when you wear them." Feeling bold out of the blue, you take off his glasses, "your eyes are very pretty." 

"Can I do something?" Matt asks, turning the talk away from himself once again.

"Depends."

[thenocturneofanightshade]

Soo First post, here.. about this AU I have for LMK. I'll just Info Dump a lot of it. Anyways, still new to LMK so a lot of this could change or be similar.. I mainly just wanted to share this AU Idea and Plot Points..

This AU was somewhat inspired by 'Stone Monkey AU' but I have my own twists.

So here's me trying to say it all while making it easy to read.

Firstly, some backstory inspiration for life on the mountain before Wukong's quest for Immortality comes from the Monkey King 2009 series. An English Translation for about 14 episodes (subbed) has been done by a channel called 'Monkey Servant'.

My main takeaway is that Liu'er has been kidnapped a lot and Wukong often came to their rescue (and they used to have fresh snow-white fur and their Ears look very much like their 2009 counterpart)

(Here's an image from the show I found.)

Major changes with MK and his place in Canon. I'll start with this for now since I feel their character and role will have some of the biggest changes short of Wukong.

Qi Xiaotian/MK is a Stone Monkey who is technically Sun Wukong and Liu'er Mihou/Macaque's kid(Though the Latter is unaware). They have Four Ears and have basically the same powers as Canon(May add more because of Mac but we'll see.) The main difference between this MK and Canon is that 1, he has had more training done by Sun Wukong, and he is a few centuries younger than Red Son. And he misses his Baba. (I'll get more into that MK later.) (May also make Trans but ??? I'll make a poll later to let people decide.)

Sun Wukong has learned a lot from being a father and HAS told MK about Mac, he tells the truth about the situation and how through his own actions he shattered the precious jewel he held so dear and it was his biggest regret because he is certain that if Mac lived they would have been their other Parent, their Papa or Mama.

So ShadowPeach was once Canon but not really anymore. (But who knows~)

After JTTW Wukong became very Isolated with only pop-ins, or visits between them.

Tripitaka also at some point during JTTW realised how much he had at times over-done it with the fillet and apologised. (Also during the Journey when asked how he was doing so well with the Kidnapping stuff he decides to be vague as fuck and say 'Oh, I have experience.' The Pilgrims believe he means he has kidnapped people before. Not saved them.) As Centuries went on the Pilgrims passed on, Tripitaka was first because Mortal, Sha Wujing and Zhu Bajie were next passing about the same time before finally Ao Lie.

Ao Lie only told Wukong about the fourth ring on their Death Bed, When the Celestial Realm called for DBK's Death (Likely also Red Son's too.) and ordered PIF back into their courts. Hearing about this Wukong made a deal with them to let him seal DBK and spare Red Son and PIF. The DBF has no clue about what Wukong has done and after sealing DBK under the Mountain they leave from the views of many basically sealing up Flower Fruit Mountain for good. Mainly this is because in the Original JTTW story, Wukong clearly shows a lot of care for their friends and respect for DBK and his family.

Now between JTTW and DBK's Sealing during Wukong's depressed spiral, a Stone Egg hatched and out came MK!!

There were ups and downs to single parent life but Wukong made it work. He taught MK everything and trained him well (I should mention MK never held his Father's staff once during this period of time.)

About a few years after sealing DBK Somethings has been attacking the Seals and Wukong has been using his own power to keep up. Collapsing in front of MK Wukong turns into a crystal the colour of a Vivid Orange Sapphire. (MK Gains his first bit of Trauma!!!)

(Anyways this part is left in the air because idk why he became like this. I mainly put this down for plot.)

Because of the Bridges Wukong burned and how many people would likely try to attack FFM to destroy the crystal if word got out the Kingdom decided to not ask for aid from anybody, unsure who to trust or who they could even reach let along reach out to (As nobody is even sure how to reach Guanyin and they don't rlly wanna owe them anything..) as by now all the original Pilgrims have passed on and MK is unsure if their families could even help them in the first place.

So he goes out to research and find a way to save his Baba in secret with little help or aid. All under glamours and Shapeshifting, while some look possibly promising the required living sacrifices and MK doesn't think his Baba would like that he killed somebody to save him. The Crystal is kept under constant Guard on FFM with many flowers, fruits and carved items placed around it.

He eventually goes to Megapolis, to follow leads. (He avoided it mainly because of DBF and not wanting to run into them.) After arriving about a few years before Canon. Transforming to look like young child (About 12 or so) they start looking around the city mainly to get a lay of the land when they get caught in a storm and a car hits them with muddy water.

Pigsy finds them, brings them in and asks MK why they were out in the storm at this time of day panicking he tells Pigsy that "Dad's really sick and.." MK doesn't elaborate, Pigsy asks MK if he has anybody to call, nodding MK quickly steps out and makes a clone to pose as an 'Uncle' as he quickly comes up with a cover story. The "Uncle" arrives a few minutes later, they tell Pigsy that they recently moved to the city for hospital reasons as 'MK's Father had fallen into a coma and he hadn't taken the news well.' After Eating the two leave as MK decides to use the old shrine his father had gotten years ago when the Pilgrims had still lived and renovate it while he stayed there. After he was "16" he got a drivers License and worked for Pigsy as a delivery boy. AND NOW WITH THOSE MAJOR CHANGES OUT OF THE WAY!!!

Now, we get to the main part, as we all know Pigsy, Tang and Sandy are 3 of the original Pilgrims reborn (Mei is up in the air for this AU. May make an "Uncle" for her and make her take over MK's role but that's for later.) The Main thing about is the three(Four?) of them remember their past lives as the Pilgrims. None of them knows MK is a Demon Monkey let alone Sun Wukong's Son, Now it starts off the same as MK takes the delivery to the DBF house but he decides to make a Clone to head back to Pigsy's as he goes to check out what they were doing after curiosity got the best of him. And in his monkey form, he steals his dad's staff. Giving them the name Qi Xiaotian. Now we have Pilgrims remembering their past lives + Secret Vigilante MK + Turned into Stone(Crystal)Wukong. I may add more onto this later but for now I hope you enjoy this idea.

[lunarmoonanons]

Dancing in Fire

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

The Dragon Dancer moves with ease amongst the dancing bodies of people. She navigates her feelings of her family and tests herself.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Masterlist 

It was always a treat to have the keep alive with the sound of dancing and music. To have lords and ladies around to feast and dance was a special treat for Jaehaerys and his family. Such was the case tonight as the halls were filled with music to celebrate the 14th birthday of his son Aemon.

 The court was lively with dancing and feasting and dancing in the center was YN who moved melodically to the music. Though she never really cared for andals she would admit they made lively music. Tonight the court watched as the adopted daughter of the king danced center stage for them. She was adorned like a Targaryen princess with red and black garbs and her dark hair braided up in an elaborate design. 

The nobles looked on and danced around the tan girl, some with only one thought in mind. To woo and betroth themselves or their sons to the dragon dancer that famously called the beasts to her side. Many thought they had a chance, but most would be turned away in vain.

“My lady you dance with such grace.” One lord tried to complement, shrinking under the gaze YN’s dark eyes gave him. 

“I know I do. I have eyes.” YN was short with him before spinning away. 

“Madam, I must compliment your dress. You look quite lovely.”

“Thank you. Once again, I do not need compliments I have eyes.” YN tried to hint at him to leave her alone. Before he could try again, they were interrupted by the sight of Jaehaerys standing from his seat to address his court. YN took the opportunity to sneak out of the throne room and find a window to look out of. 

She took the moment to relax and pull at the dress she wore. She wanted to wear something else, but Alysanne wanted to show a front of family united to the court. YN loved her family and wanted to please Alysanne but she also preferred to wear the clothes she made herself. Tonight though was not about her, it was about Aemon whom she loved and wanted to see happy and he was. YN sighed and rested her hand against her cheek, letting her mind wander back to memories of her real mother and real home. 

“What is on your mind tonight my dear?” The sound of Jaehaerys’ voice brought YN back to reality. 

“Oh just thinking about my old home and mother. I wonder about her all the time.” YN dismissed and smoothed down her dress. 

“YN… Are you happy here with us?” 

That made YN tilt her head in confusion. “What brought this on?”

“I just wonder, you drift off ever so often and lose yourself to memories of your past. I don’t wish for you to forget your old hom, but I worry you are unhappy in this one.” Jaehaerys sighed, placing a hand to the girl’s shoulder. 

YN offered a smile and placed her hand on top of his. “I am happy here. I promise. You are like my family and I don’t wish to be parted from any of you.”

“But?...”

“It’s hard to forget my old life, even if it was brief. The memories are as fresh as the day I saw them.” YN sighed and looked back out the window. “The fire, the darkness, the shadow city. They plague my mind and my dreams. I feel like I am distant from being in this family because of my past. I don’t look like you, I wear my own garments, I am not as polite as Alysanne would have me. But I do love your family and would do anything to remain a part of it.”

“My dear one.” Jaehaerys came forth to bring her into a hug. “You are my family. My daughter. You are of the dragon’s blood and your place is with us. You must not doubt this.”

YN blinked away tears and returned his hug earnestly. “You know…” Her voice muffled by his clothing. “I do not remember my father’s face, but I like to think he was like you. Kind and stern.”

“I thank you for that. I hope I am a good father to you.”

“You have your ups and downs.” YN teased and pulled away. “We shou;d head back before Alysanne worries we ran off.”

So the two went back to the music and the dancing. YN put on a friendlier face for some of the lords as she danced among them. Her evening consisted of dancing with and dining with her family. Alysanne being pleased to see her in a fine Targaryen dress and Jaehaerys being pleased to see her smiling face amongst the crowd. When the night was over and the family dispersed to their room, YN remained awake. 

Like many nights before, she stared into the fire and fiddled with her dark hair. The flames illuminated off her tan face as she tilted her head. The fire sang to her like a siren luring prey. Though she could light candles with her mind if she focused, YN wondered what other parts of the fire she was connected to. Tonight she wanted to push herself further. With barely a thought she reached her hand forward slowly. Inching closer and closer to the flames. Once upon them, they licked at her hand but left no mark. Her forearm was fully in the flame now, yet all the fire did was dance around her skin. She felt it tickle up and down her arm. Her mind went to Balerion and what he’d sing in her ear about Dragons and fire. 

“Fire made flesh.” YN whispered.

[elronds-pointy-ears]

At your Mercy Chapter 7

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Pairing: Gil-Galad x human! fem! Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1973

Summary: Dramatic elf makes his entrance and cute moment with Gil-Galad. Let the festivities commence.

Thank you for reading 💜

It was a hectic day. You ran from one place to the next. Being the High Kings sort of manager you had a lot to do. Especially the days when his herold was absent. You carried a lot on your shoulders at court. It turned out you were handling it well and the High King appeared to be pleased with the work you managed to get done. Downside was that he had high expectations. He saw your negotiating with other elves, high ranked ones at that and he saw you had a hand for these political matters. You should be proud how far you‘ve come in such a short time but at times like these you would rather just have a simple life with a simple job. Your excellent work had you now running around like a wild chicken because the elven Lord Oropher was yours to take care of.

The elf was a menace. He had much to complain and very little praise for anything. If you had to decide who the most unlikeable elf was you would not have to think long. He stood only 5 feet away from you with his long blonde hair, blowing in the wind. He stood tall next to his kin, head held high and a piercing gaze. „Y/N is it? I want to retreat to my quarters now. Go ahead and tell them to arrange everything!“ You were not sure what exactly he meant so you stood for a moment contemplating what exactly he was talking about. „What are you waiting for? Off you go!“ he commanded. With that you decided to just listen to him and walk straight to the closest maiden. „Excuse me. Lord Oropher sends me to let you know he wants everything  ‚arranged‘ in his quarters?“ you told her with a questioning undertone hinting at your confusion. „Lord Oropher oh my? He is here already? I will take care of it right now. Thank you for letting me know.“ With that she was off leaving you still clueless what he meant by „arranged“. 

Deciding not to dwell on this arrogant elf and his stupid desires for one more minute you went to the first place that came to mind when you thought about a peaceful moment, the big tree you admired so much. After spending the whole day as Orophers personal slave you had had enough. You needed a break, fresh air and just really some peace. 

You made your way up the hill. The sun was about to set and it‘s rays set the land in a golden light. Standing in front of the tree you saw far over the city. The pinkish and orange sky took your breath away. You closed your eyes and you felt your tense shoulders relax. This is more than you initially thought you would get by coming up here but this view was absolutely everything to get your spirits back up. You stood there for a long time just breathing, basking in the warmth of the last rays of light the sun was casting over the lands when you felt a presence next to you. You kept your eyes closed and prepared for someone to interrupt your peaceful moment. A few moments passed and you could not hear anything. Whoever stood next to you granted you a few more seconds of peace. Out of curiosity you decided to open your eyes and see who came to stand next to you.

„Oh. High King“ you blurted. „I uh excuse me your grace I was not aware someone was here.“ you lied trying to smooth out your clothes to make you more presentable. You figured it would be the easiest way out of this situation. „Do not worry Y/N I am just here to do the same as you.“ he said turning his head from looking at you to the far lands ahead. „What I am doing?“ you questioned. Honestly you had no idea what exactly you were doing here. You were just standing around. „You are running away from Oropher.“ he smirked. „I understand how dramatic he can be. I am stressed out as well.“ Another pause. None of you spoke and it was a comfortable silence until Gil-Galad decided to let you in on a tiny piece of information about him no one really knew. „In fact when I am stressed out I come here. It is a peaceful place and usually the only place in the city that can be found free of anyone.“ You turned to face him trying to apologize „Oh I am so sorry I did not know I will not come here if you wish this place to be..“ you babbled but his deep baritone interrupted you „No I am not saying you are unwelcome Y/N.“ he stared back into your eyes. The sun kissed your skin and made it glow in beautiful golden hues. His favorite colour.

„What I am trying to say is that I am grateful you are here. Having to listen to Oropher all day and doing his biddings is exhausting and by handling him you are taking away a lot of that weight from my shoulders.“ You held his gaze. Something about his dark orbs in the light did wonders and you felt drawn to him. „I uh thank you.“ you stammered. His eyes bored into yours and he towered over you, but not in a threatening way. No in a friendly, warm way.

This was the first time you felt relaxed in his presence. Maybe it was the time you spent together, working for him, that you finally got used to it. Maybe it was just the utterly exhausting Oropher who in comparison was way worse than the High King could ever be. Or his soft deep words of gratitude that made your heart swell in your chest. His eyes dipped down to your lips for a moment and your eyes did the same. His lips look so soft and kissable right now. You wondered what they would feel like... STOP!!

You shook your head, feeling your ears heat up from embarrassment. You must have hit your head or something since you‘ve been training with Glorfindel. These inappropriate thoughts had been plaguing your mind recently and it only seemed to happen more often the more time you spent with the High-King. 

Little did you know the High King stared at you for a moment longer than he should have. He saw your expression change quickly and it brought a smile to his lips. He saw your ears turning a slight shade of pink like the sky above and he enjoyed seeing you so flustered.

Before he could think of anything to say to make you blush more you straightened up beside him. „Very well I am going to retire to my quarters now. I am sure Lord Oropher will have demands tomorrow morning so I better not get to bed too late. Have a good evening, your grace.“ With that you turned on your heels and headed back down to your room, leaving the High King pondering.

In the morning you woke up tired and sleepy. You had trouble sleeping. The events from yesterday still clouded your mind and you could hardly get Gil-Galad out of your mind. Even though you were alone in your room, he was present in the back of your head. Everything about him seemed to be so perfect. He was not just nice to look at no. What actually surprised you was, that he was actually a good person in just an attractive body. At first you thought he was as arrogant as any elven King would be. But after a while he showed you more facettes of his true character. He was a King and a ruler to most. But there were many other parts of him hidden behind the facade of the High-King. He proved to be kind and warmhearted. You spent most of the night wondering about the many other sides the great elven King might have hidden behind the mask he wore at all times. 

Oropher was not helping, as he had requested you to accompany him on his morning ride through the woods. After preparing everything for him you had a few minutes of peace riding alongside the blonde elf. All you had to do now was listen to his endless bickering about humans. He disagreed on many things humans did. Especially the way they treated nature and the very place they call home. Destroying more than creating or nurturing their homeland. After a few minutes he paused and just admired the view.

„I have always preferred the woods. They are so calm and eternal. This is where I feel most peaceful. Don‘t you agree Y/N?“ Oropher said, waiting for your response. „I do like the woods as well, yes. They are full of life and mysterious. You never know what to expect behind the next tree.“ you agreed. As much as you wanted to rebel against Orophers opinions you could not disagree because he was simply stating the truth. Humans were awful beings. Sometimes worse than the dwarves could ever be. It was terrifying to think about all the bad things happening at the very moment, somewhere in the world at the hands of humans. And the woods you did not even have to act like you liked them. How could anyone not like the trees that stood in the very place for thousands of years. The rest of the ride was relatively relaxed and not too exhausting. Oropher seemed to be a better company in the presence of trees you thought. 

When you came back to the city you heard Oropher asking for a servant to bring him tea to his quarters and prepare a bath. He talked about not going to the festivities without a proper bath and you nearly facepalmed. You had forgotten about the day. It was the High-Kings birthday. They would hold a ceremony this evening in the High Kings name with music, food and dances. You quickly made your way over to Oropher to ask if he needed anything else. He waved you off, already heading to his quarters. 

Nearly tripping over your own feet you speed-walked to your own to get everything sorted before heading to Elrond and the other elves to make sure everything has been prepared and is ready for the celebration held in about four hours from now on. You found Elrond after a while walking around the many elves running around carrying boxes of wine or fireworks, tables and seats had already been arranged and a dancefloor had formed in between them. „Y/N there you are.“ Elrond came strutting over to you and stood beside you. „How has your day been? I hope Oropher behaved?“ he raised one eyebrow at you. You laughed „Ha, you mean to ask if he ever behaved, right?“. The ellon beside you laughed out loud at that. „Just what I‘ve been thinking,“ he mused. Elrond and you helped wherever a set of hands was needed and slowly the gardens turned into a mesmerizing scenery.

Everyone kept working on decorations and preparations for the evening and after about two hours the splace had changed completely. The party was set to be in the already pretty gardens and beautiful lanterns lit every corner in a warm and welcoming light. Pretty flowers adorned the wooden tables  creating a magical ambience. Soft tunes could be heard from the musicians that had started to play and you headed back to your quarters to get dressed for the occasion. In about 30 minutes the celebration was supposed to start and you needed to clean up a bit, before jumping in a wonderful dark green dress.

Tagging @lotrnonsense​ / @captainbutterflygirl2 @thesolarangel​ @lazymeriadoc​ @bananaphanta​ @betty-not-boop​ @fenharel-enaste @eowyn7023