#and hes fully aware like he says its the hand that made him a knight that made him a man that killed aerys that flung bran

[ilynpilled]

another thing with denying jaime agency is that a lot of his character is initially constructed around what his physical power means when it comes to choices that he makes. physical strength and combat prowess, violence, is a specific form of power that he has over others and can choose to extend to other parties. it is an integral aspect of every power dynamic, be it with his king, his sister, the rest of society etc. the knight is also an examination of power and responsibility. that is why their oaths are constructed around protecting the weak. it is what’s so interesting with the kingsguard too, especially aerys’s. they are the most skilled in combat and physically powerful people in the room. they had a form of power to act and prevent what aerys kept doing. and they are on a leash through oaths, law, order, obeying authority, and a status quo, a different kind of power that functions to give the man with a crown, in this case a tyrant, absolute power. you are sworn to obey, not to judge. you have to abide by your role. that is also what makes him eventually killing aerys and breaking these oaths so transgressive and threatening to the westerosi paradigm. his motivations and the circumstances aside, jaime in specific killing his king as a member of his elite guard undermined westerosi order and framed power as something that resided with the man with the sword and not with the man with the crown or even the lords with bannermen and armies who won the war that they started. it breaks these constructs apart with the precedent it sets. and on top of that, he gets away with it because of his status and relationship to tywin, which is also a scary precedent in the eyes of many. it is huge when it comes to westerosi order and class stratification, but it is also threatening in general because, yes, it does make him a loose cannon in the eyes of other people. and yeah he stagnates and falls into cynicism and begins to reject ethics and law in a dangerous way and ends up abusing that physical power and causes real harm to people who do not deserve it. he does embody a dangerous kind of anarchy that is the product of the flawed and dysfunctional social order that he experienced with a front row seat with the absurdly cruel tyrant that was systematically enabled. everything was reframed in his head. if there is no justice and order you can have faith in, who cares? he doesn’t fear death, and that is combined with the belief he can cut through anything now, he has the power to do so. be it a king, a lord, or virtually any power over him when it comes down to it. how much can a crown be worth…? he even argues to brienne that robert tearing the realm apart with his war is worse in a pragmatic sense. he rejects the existing laws, ethics, and moral constructs of his society that have a monopoly on violence because he is disillusioned with them, and he operates solely by his twisted reconstruction of morality (also obviously affected by his trauma) that atp primarily revolves around love for his family, especially cersei. he chooses to become the sword of his loved one, having lost faith in the purity of everything other than this delusional idealized relationship that is the only thing that is sacred that remains to him. and ofc all of this is another layer that makes george stripping him of this particular power through his maiming so functional in causing crisis.

[covesdadappreciation]

Hey hey! I loved your Prom one, and now I'm hungry for more! (Sorry not sorry =P). An idea that's been knocking around in my head is, its implied Tam-Tam gets bullied in the later Steps. SO, I would like to see MC getting into a fight after someone makes Tamarack cry, and the Qiu joins in to help because, love rival or no love rival, they ain't lettin' that shit slide.

School Fight

Tamarack x Male Reader (FTM Safe!) Author's note: I’m starting to think you really like the "jealous Qiu, and in love with Tamarack" dynamic… just a feeling. 🎀 CW: A physical fight and mentions of bullying. - I will also warn you that I may have not re-edited this. 1972 words

Ever since MC had met Tamarack, he’s doted on her. If she was a princess, he was her knight, through and through. He was at Tamarack’s defense when Oma and her argued, he was at her side when she felt isolated, he was always paying attention to her face to see if she approved or disapproved certain plans. She is his everything, and even in high school it hasn’t changed much. It certainly isn’t as obvious anymore, nor is he following her around like a lost puppy as much either. With getting older and no longer feeling out-of-place after being the new neighbor, he’s become more independent. Confident, some might say. 

MC began to climb the high school popularity ranks the older he got, along with Qiu (but Qiu wasn’t all that excited about being popular at this point). Though that never let MC feel bigger than Tamarack. Instead he always made sure to make it obvious that they were friends, that he’ll make time for her any day, that she’s just as important as any one of his friends. In a room full of people, he’ll always choose her. 

So when MC decided that he wanted to walk with Tamarack after her after school orchestra practice for the first time, he had a gut-squeezing feeling when he saw her with a small frown and tiny tears at the edges of her eyes. He quickly rushed up to her, but she squeezed her eyes when she noticed MC and smiled, the tears becoming much less notable now.

“Are you okay?” He asked, studying her face worriedly, holding himself from running his hands over the tear trails on her face. She nodded persistently, “Yeah, Orchestra was just stressful today. Rehearsal stuff, it happens.” She waved her hand dismissively. 

MC sighed understandingly, “Well if it’d help, we can go to the Diner and get milkshakes?” Tamarack perked up at the offer, and while her sadness didn’t seem to fully pass, it still made her smile.

As the week continues, MC notices that Tamarack’s been more stressed at the mention of orchestra. She’s anxious in the hallways, as if looking for someone, or trying to be aware of what people are talking about. Of course Tamarack was a little more anxious and awkward, they’re in highschool! It’s kind of a package deal. But it was way out of character for her, this was fear, and that little voice in MC’s head knew that something was wrong. All he needed to know was what the cause was. 

—

MC walked into the auditorium, sitting in the front row as he kept his eyes on Tamarack the whole time as she settled into her seat and pulled out her instrument. Though, nobody really seemed to notice him with the bright lights on them, and if they did, he wasn’t their main focus. They were working on playing music for one of the school musicals, but not even halfway into practice, MC already noticed plenty of red flags.

Two freshmen who sat behind Tammy were being dickheads. Notably one was blonde and the other was brunette. It started out small, but even then it took everything in MC to not get up and tell them to cut it out. Maybe accidentally spill some water on them. Who knows. The two boys went back and forth throughout their instrumental pauses or 10 minute breaks, throwing side-eyes at Tammy while whispering some surely cruel comments about her considering that in response to every whisper, Tamarack seemed to curl more and more into herself. 

MC had kept his eye on them, wishing that Tamarack could notice him and give him a signal on what to do. Scenarios and plans ran through his head, many of them revolving around the idea of revenge. On the other hand, he can hear his ma’s and Tamarack’s voice to calm down, to not get in trouble. The rest of the half hour passes and Tamarack makes her way over to MC, inhaling deeply before crashing her body onto him, pressing her weight against him so that he could hold her closely. 

“Tammy…?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there a reason you haven’t told me about those two dickheads?” MC crossed his arms. Of course he wasn’t angry at her, but the fact that those two had the nerve to be mean to the nicest and adorable girl in the whole world. The audacity. 

Tamarack huffs no longer leaning on him, “No! They’re just dumb, and it’s…” she falters, rolling her eyes and no longer making eye contact with MC, “It’s nothing to worry about.” MC glances around and finds the two boys headed out, but not leaving without throwing a judgemental look towards Tamarack. It only made MC’s stomach turn and twist. 

Just say the word, Tam. Put me in the ring, coach.

“If they keep this up, I swear I’ll start a fight”

“Please don’t” Tamarack laughs softly, but they both knew that MC wasn’t strictly joking. MC only makes a small unsatisfied sound, his eyes stuck and glaring at the two boys until they were out of sight. “Earth to MC?” Tamarack waves her hand in front of his face, “Are we still gonna walk to my place?”

MC sighs before taking Tamarack’s cello case, puffing his chest for a quick second before the weight shifted comfortably in his arms,

“MC, you know you don’t have to carry it for me every time-”

“You’ll have to pry this from my cold dead hands if you expect me to let you carry this yourself”

“My hero” Tamarack sighs with a smug look, readjusting MC’s hair so that his hair is back to normal before their walk. 

“My princess” MC grins back.

— 

The week had felt long, as if the school building itself was actively stopping the clock and hoping no one would question it. MC and Tamarack were walking down the halls in their transition period, arm in arm. Chatting away about their next class and hooked together to not lose each other to the crowd was always their excuse.

“Imagine if the crowds sucked her away and I’d never find her again!” MC huffed to Qiu long ago. 

So MC made it clear that he would never let that happen. Nor was he going to let the world see the dust of blush on his cheeks wherever they did cross arms.  

Unfortunately, the two boys from the orchestra had caught onto Tamarack’s presence on their walk down the halls. MC could see the cogs turning in their heads, which was surprising considering that MC thought there was nothing in there anyways. Defeating all logic regardless, there was a non-verbal plan being set in their minds, which made MC tense. 

He felt worse when he stole a quick look over at Tamarack, seeing her understandably more anxious than him, tears welling up in her eyes once more. This time she finally let them fall. 

The two boys pointed and whispered, judging something– and when MC looked at what they were pointing at, it was a part of a bit of high school embarrassment. Tamarack’s backpack was almost wide-open, not enough for everything to fall out. Of course, they were close enough so that you could hear the glimpses of terrible things they decided to say about her. About her intelligence and comments about her appearance. People are starting to look. 

“Guys, can you both just fucking rela-” MC was interrupted by the brunette who passed him, shoulder hitting shoulder, which caught MC off guard. 

Tamarack was quiet now, and a panicked and helpless look was all she could give as the brunette had gone up to her, let her walk away just a bit so that he could reach into her bag, pulling out whatever he could grab. It was her lunch bag. In a quick attempt of playing monkey in the middle, the brunette with the lunch bag tosses it over to the blonde boy, who’s conveniently closer to MC.

As the two boys laugh, the blonde holding the lunch bag makes eye contact with MC, almost as if expecting him to laugh too at this obnoxious act. 

There’s a moment where MC just nods, the situation finally clicking and snapping in his head. 

Almost as if it’s instinct, MC forces his body to slam the kid against the locker which takes everyone off guard. Those who knew MC from elementary especially. He wasn’t lost or trying to fit in anymore like he did back then. He wasn’t hiding behind Tamarack and hoping that everyone stays friends. It almost made MC seem bigger now. 

The blonde was almost too shocked by the reaction, but he recovered and decided that he’d fight back. They both shoved each other around, throwing a punch in there occasionally, the growing crowd of kids gave a lot of space. Phones were out, and people were cheering and commenting. In one moment MC was pinned and being pushed around by his clothes, in another moment MC had the blonde onto the floor, shoving him harshly back down on the ground.

Veronica had pulled Tamarack away while Qiu and Ren struggled against the mob of children to see what was happening. All they had heard was that MC was in a fight. All Qiu fully registered was a blonde boy on the ground, MC trying to pin the boy’s hands away, and a brunette boy about to enter to help his friend, most likely to make the situation worse or make this a 2v1 situation. Qiu quickly ran up to the brunette and redirected him, only shoving him back warningly. 

That’s all Qiu needed to see, and they knew that it probably had something to do with Tamarack. Who else would MC fight like this for?

“Are you gonna keep going?!” MC shouts at the boy, trying to be heard over the multiple kids shouting. The blonde boy kept up with the struggle before finally giving in and knowing that MC wasn’t going to let go of his wrists until they both stopped hurting one another. 

The blonde boy nods persistently, allowing MC to finally get off of him (not without "accidentally nudging this guy on the side a bit" with his foot) and take a couple steps back in case the boy was planning on starting another fight.

Not that there was time for it considering teachers finally reached the situation. The crowd quickly dispersed, leaving only Tamarack, Qiu, MC, and the two boys in that hall with the teachers.. 

—

Fortunately, Tamarack and Qiu didn’t get in much trouble besides whatever their parents and grandparents found to be appropriate. MC on the other hand had a 4 day suspension, and the other two boys had gotten slightly longer and worse punishments than them. MC’s mom wasn’t the happiest at the whole situation, but she also figured deep down something like this would’ve happened. Tamarack’s Opa found the whole thing a lot more amusing than Omi, of course, but they were still somewhat glad the bullying issue was done with too. 

And it wasn’t like Tamarack and MC were banned from seeing each other ever again. Tamarack and Qiu would visit MC after school to bring him homework, and study together. 

At the end of the day, no one bothered to bully or make comments about Tamarack anymore, lest they deal with MC when he comes back. At least MC promised he’d never do it again. Probably.

[moltensmusings]

Volume 9 Jaune bothered me. I wasn't a fan of his random age increase only to de-age at the end of the volume, I didn't enjoy his new Grimm dark personality (which also seems to get reset at the end of the volume), his design was nice and I'll always enjoy them actually giving long hair to guys, but overall his arc wasn't that enjoyable.

I've been sitting on it for a while as I try to figure out how I'd alter it slightly, and I think I've finally figured it out. But we would need a bit more build up. (Note this also follows an idea that Nora falls instead of Weiss). This is a rough idea.

Starting after the fall of Beacon/death of Pyrrha there needs to be a strong focus on him almost being willing to break himself if it means keeping others safe and alive. Pyrrha is always at the forefront of his mind but he never opens up about it. When Weiss nearly dies and he unlocks his semblance this behavior intensifies because now he can actually help people who are hurt.

In a concept for volume 6 I like the idea of a battle breaking out in Argus and Jaune is both defending and helping heal people but running himself ragged in the process. Same thing in Atlas.

When Penny asks him to kill her we fully are aware it's not in him to do this, but he does. And it breaks a part of him.

When he makes it to Ever After is when he meets the rusted night. Our white rabbit stand in who had previously helped Alyx and Lewis, someone Alyx promised to help but never came back for. They were waiting patiently for a traveler to take their place as protector of the land so they could journey to the tree and be reborn. The prospect of saving people, keeping them alive, that's what makes Jaune take the job. But in doing so he's stuck in a loop for a bit.

Not as long as in canon, just a handful of years. He's doing the job until the rusted knight returns and and the others show up. The entire time he's pretending he's fine. He's pushing down the grief and guilt. Pretending he's not affected like usual because once more he has people to help and he can't focus on the pain. When rby and nora show up, he's so elated.

And from here we follow a similar but slightly altered story, he's trying to help them, not wanting to lead them to the tree because he can't go until the knight returns. But all the while he's being same old Jaune as always, slightly older but still Jaune.

The paper pleaser destruction is the moment we get that breakdown that shatters his facade. He lashes out uncharacteristically at Ruby when normally he's supportive. Nora defends ruby and finally Jaune opens up about his grief and guilt. How he never actually properly processed Pyrrha's passing, how every time someone dies he blames himself because he has the power to save them, the guilt over what happened with Penny. Blake and Yang go on ahead to look for Ruby but Nora takes time to help Jaune. She's already been well on her way to processing her grief over Pyrrha. They agree that they have to move forward, that he made a promise to the knight but that he has people who miss him. And that she wants to go home to family.

And when the team makes it to the tree, finishes the fight with the curious cat, the knight is the one Jaune speaks to instead. He's told that he did a good job, they apologize for saddling him with so much responsibility. But they say they're ready to take the mantle back.

Jaune doesn't de-age in this version. He keeps the years he lived. But he is changed even slightly. More mature, a bit more serious. But still, he's the Jaune who cares enough about people to help, and happy moments he has don't just cover up bottled emotions.

At the end he comes to understand not being able to save everyone. That sometimes people will die and he can't blame himself. It's a lesson that will take time, but its one he would need.

[theimpurelily]

Son of a Stepfather

Word Count: 2 ,776

Warning: Mentions suicide in this chapter

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Did she remember him? Hope started to crawl up into his heart before he choked it down. No, how could she? She was so young when it happened, even if she remembered how on earth could she recognize him? 

It was foolish to get his hopes up. Still, if that was the case, why was she eyeing him like that with her lips parting like she was about to say something. 

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance, lady Maximilian. I am Evan Triton.” The commander’s voice seemed to have taken both away from their trance. 

The commander gave her a gentle smile as he extended his hand, making the gesture seem reassuring. Riftan watched as Maximilian tentatively placed her hand in his, allowing Triton to kiss it before introducing Riftan. 

“And this young man is the Remdragon Knights’ vice commander, Riftan Calypse.” 

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Riftan intoned. He didn’t like the foul feeling twisting his gut the moment the commander's lips touched the back of her hand. 

Maximilian almost seemed frozen in place, staring up at Riftan with wide eyes. Was she scared of him? No, that wasn't a look of fear.

Before he had time to figure out the look in her eyes the duke cleared his throat, causing her to cast her gaze downward. 

“A-as am I.” Her voice was so quick and soft

Riftan felt hyper aware of every movement she made as her eyes shifted from the floor to quickly look back at him before quickly looking away as if she was caught doing something she shouldn’t have. 

How? How could such a delicate look shine a new light on all those cherished fantasies. It was as if she cast a spell, causing them to flourish as vividly as the garden from the illusion that saved his life. 

Don’t choose misery.  

His stepfather’s words pierced his heart, causing whatever hope had managed to make its way there to slowly wither.

“My child, you look pale. Are you still feeling unwell?” Duke Croyso’s voice suddenly resounded as he was being consumed by the sounds of his blood rushing in his ears.

The young woman flinched, then nodded. The duke let out a low sigh. 

“You have greeted all our guests. Why don’t you rest in your chambers now?” After glancing at both men Maximilian nodded again and turned away, leaving a small part of Riftan wanting to believe her eyes lingered on him a little longer. The duke watched his daughter leave with a concerned look before directing a tepid smile at Triton. 

“Do pardon her ill manners. She is such a timid child that she finds such gatherings overwhelming.” 

“Is she not of age to be at court?” 

“I cannot bring myself to send her to the capital when she is so vehemently against it.”  

The duke clasped his hands behind his back and shook his head, the picture of a benevolent father. Triton continued talking to the duke, but Riftan couldn’t bring himself to care about what they had to say. He was far too busy watching as Maximilian walked away. Although his stepfathers' words continued to echo in his mind his eyes still trailed her, wishing for her to turn around and look at him again. She never did, and when she finally disappeared behind a corner he shook his head. He felt as if there was a war happening in his heart, a fight between his stepfather's warning and that look in her eyes.

Soon, the duke moved on to converse with the other guests. After several more hurried exchanges with the Eastern nobles, Riftan retreated to a corner and quickly emptied a goblet of wine. Triton gave him a disappointed look but Riftan ignored it along with any other noble that tried to hold a conversation with him. Riftan instead focuses on emptying as many goblets as possibly, trying his best to become inebriated to help with the knowledge that illusion he had built up might still be real. However, his head seemed to clear. 

His mind continued racing, not fully coming to terms with the fact she might remember him, because why would she? How could she? She had to have been what, five or six? He could almost laugh at himself for even daring to look up. Perhaps she just saw him as a curiosity; he doubted it was common for the daughter of a Duke to see many half-breeds up so close. He must have been quite a spectacle for her to see, a savage pagan from the south playing knight. 

He scoffed at himself. It was high time he got over the childish dream. He might be a knight, but he was still a lowly bastard while she was the daughter of a distinguished noble family.  

After guzzling goblet after goblet of wine, he returned to his room and collapsed onto the bed, crushing the feathered hat in the process.

Riftan didn't know if it was due to the drink or from being in such a reached place but he had paid the price that night. He found his dreams haunted with putrid smells and the vision of his mother’s ashen face staring down at him from the ceiling. He was a child again and completely paralyzed in the dream, forced to keep looking up at her as her hands began to reach out towards him. The joins in her arms popped as they stretched out in an unnatural way in order to reach him. Riftan was only able to wake up when her icy fingers touched his cheek.

The nightmare left him restless and the thumping headache assaulting him as soon as he opened his eyes didn't help. 

Nothing he did that morning seemed to lessen the aching in his head. Closing his eyes to keep the blinding light out brought just summoned her face back into his mind and the cold water from the wash basin only seemed to worsening the chill in his bones. Eventually, he left his room to try and clear his head. After rubbing his eyes, Riftan started to move away from the guest wing of the building and headed outside. He had hoped that the warmth from the morning sun would help but the bright light mocked him and forced his eyes shut as he cursed out loud. He had half a mind to turn around and go back to sleep but the childish fear brought on by the nightmare forced him to keep moving forward.

Riftan wasn’t sure if it was a left-over habit from his childhood but he would often find himself taking long walks or ride Talon to clear his head. It had started not long after he began working as an apprentice for the smithy, possibly the first day since it didn't take long for the blacksmith to show Riftan his violent side. He remembered the back of his head stinging almost as bad as his overworked arms. Despite the exhaustion of working so hard his legs had carried him past the hut he lived in and didn't stop until it was dark out. His stepfather had scolded him for being out so late at night but it didn't stop him from wandering again. He rarely started them with any clear destination, some days he would find himself at the little stream, others he would nearly be at the market. Today, that lack of direction seemed to mock him. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but maybe some part of him wanted to come here. Part of him had always wondered if it had stay the same or was it the one thing that had changed? He eventually found the answer and it led to him sitting in the same spot for several hours now, keeping an eye on the shack and the child hiding inside with 40 gold coins. 

Riftan shouldn’t be surprised that his stepfather moved on. The man deserved some happiness after having wasted twelve years on both him and his mother. Still, he couldn’t help but feel some resentment. 

Some would think he would want it abandoned, ready for him to burn down along with the memories of crushed flowers and stained wood. Instead, some foolish part of him had hoped he could return someday. Would he expect his stepfather to be proud of him?

He laughed bitterly.

The man would never be proud of what Riftan had become and he wouldn't blame him. He had been the one to forsake his childhood home, to leave an already grieving man alone with no family and the smell of rot.

He would have to admit, his stepfather had a stronger will than he gave him credit for. Riftan truly never expected to find the hut to now house his stepfather's new family. How could the man stand to live there? Riftan could hardly stay for one more night without feeling suffocated by the bitter memories. 

Does his family even know what she had done? Did they ever question the stain on the wooden floor? Could they not feel the cold she had left behind?

Eventually, a man with a hunched back trudged up the hill with an armful of farming tools. Riftan watched his gray-haired stepfather, unable to ignore how slowly he moved now as if the man had aged twenty years instead of ten. The little boy shot out of the shack like an arrow. No doubt he had been anxiously waiting by the window for his father to come home. 

Riftan watched them for a moment, wondering if his stepfather had ever given his new son the same advice. 

Rubbing his still throbbing temples, Riftan turned on his heels and slowly moved back to the castle. All he wanted was to head straight to his room, throw himself in bed, and not move for the next two days. 

When he reached the castle, all desire to rest evaporated. He was not in the mood to deal with the commander, who would no doubt barge in to pester him about tonight's banquet, nor did he want to interact with the other knights. Though he trusted them with his life, he was loath to let anyone see him vulnerable. 

Riftan aimlessly began to walk again, circling the garden and strolling down a secluded forest path. He quickly remembered this being the shortcut he had often lugged sacks of charcoal along as a boy. On instincts alone, he followed the dirt trail. It looked just the same as when he was a child. 

As his migraine slowly started to subside, Riftan leaned up against a tree trunk before realizing where he was. He stiffened, and a sigh escaped him as he spotted the light gray building through the dense foliage. He could not believe the places he was finding himself unwittingly walking towards. 

There was a moment of hesitation before he stood up straight and began to trudge out of the forest with his shoulders slumped over. The garden he had dreamed of countless times grew closer, but it looked nothing like the one in his visions. 

Riftan furrowed his brows at the desolate scene before him. The once vibrant flower beds were overrun with dried weeds, and the surrounding area was oddly quiet. 

Does she not live here anymore?  

He plucked a withered flower and crushed it between his fingers. The annex must have fallen into disrepair after the girl moved to the main castle. Indignant laughter burst out of him, and he started to feel hopelessly defeated. The withering garden felt like a knife ramming into his heart, driving home the point of his stepfather's words. The look in her eyes truly meant nothing.

He stood rubbing his neck for a moment. Just as he was about to head back, muffled laughter came through the trees, and he looked over at the empty garden. A chill wind bit into him as he tried to track the sound. 

Slowly, Riftan circled the annex and found Maximilian Croyso crouched on the ground, playing with a large cat. He froze and swept his gaze over her. Her chestnut dress was plain compared to her outfit at the banquet. Her hair hung loose and disheveled around her shoulders. A tinge of red colored her cheeks on her otherwise pale face. 

Something in his chest twisted painfully. She was the spitting image of his illusion. 

Before his stepfathers’ voice could warn him, he spun away, determined not to fall prey to her grip again. 

“D-Do you…like me?” Her soft-spoken stutter made him freeze. 

As if compelled by a cosmic force, Riftan’s gaze snapped back to the girl. She was talking to the cat purring at her feet, her expression reminded them of when she was young and clinging onto the hunting hound. The cat stretched and rubbed its head on her skirt as if to answer her question. The girl smiled. Like a child playing with a doll, she gently picked it up and whispered to it.  

“Th-Then…w-will you…stay with me?” 

The startling sadness in her voice made Riftan’s heart clench, and he rubbed at the spot on his ribs. Her loneliness was palpable even at a distance. At that moment, he felt that same deep connection with her that he had as a child. The memory of wanting to hug her came rushing back as he gazed sadly at the vulnerability in her face before taking a step back. 

Looking higher will only bring misfortune.  

His stepfather’s voice echoed even louder than before. He should never have come back. It would have been better to remain oblivious to her loneliness. 

Why would I ever-  

Riftan’s thoughts were cut off by a loud crunching sound. A feeling of panic shot up his spine as he looked down to see his foot had smashed into what seemed to be an old wicker basket that had been hiding in the thick weeds.  

Before he could look up the sound of a soft gasp echoed out over the neglected garden. Taking in a shallow breath Riftan raised his head to look at the girl whose hands let the cat jump from her lap and flew up to her mouth. Those beautiful eyes widened at him as her already red cheeks became more vibrant. 

Riftan’s trembling hands curled into fist as he took another step back only to halt and curse at the basket stuck around his boot. His anxiety only increased as he tried to figure out a way to shake off this damn thing with some dignity only to stop at the sound of her footsteps. 

Looking up he caught the lady's eyes again. Using his free foot, he stepped down hard onto the basket surrounding the trapped one, creating another loud crunch noise that caused Maximilian to flinch a little. Riftan started to feel like bugs were crawling around under his skin as he dipped his head down in a quick bow, biting hard on his tongue to not yell out in frustration. 

Quickly, he spun around and started to march off, cursing himself out in his head for acting so foolish only to stop at the smallest of sounds behind him. 

“P-please wait.” 

Riftan could swear that his heart stopped as he stood there frozen, as if the soft command put him under a spell. He tried to convince himself to turn around, but he felt terrified. It was laughable, how the hell could he feel fear for this tiny noble woman? 

He kept still as if he was a deer being hunted while listening as she slowly walked towards him. Closing his eyes, Riftan waited for her to come to her senses and walk away but the sounds of her delicate steps and the rustling of her skirts continued to come closer. It wasn't until she stopped that he finally gained control to turn and look at her. 

Maximilian's small hands started to play with the hem of her sleeves as she nervously kept looking up and then down at the ground all while remaining silent. Riftan suddenly found himself not caring that she didn’t say anything, just enjoying the fact he was so close to her, close enough to reach out and touch her beautiful cloud-like hair that was gently dancing in the soft breeze. 

He didn’t even notice his hand slowly starting to reach out for one of the curly locks until she started to speak up again. 

“S-sir R-Riftan.” 

A grub should keep to the ground.  

“For-forgive me if...” 

Looking higher will only bring misfortune.  

“If I am...m-mis-mistaken.” 

So you mustn’t be like her.  

“D-did you...gr-grow up here?” 

Don’t choose misery. 

[waitingforwinterwinds]

Game of Thrones - 30 EDDARD VII (pages 295-313)

Ned's murder investigation hits a dead end when his primary lead turns up dead of natural causes. Natural causes being 'killed by Mountain.' On the plus side his daughters are no longer fighting with each other, and Varys has a tasty morsel of gossip he's down to share with Ned.

-

The squires smiled nervously until the king turned on them. "You. Yes, both of you. You heard the Hand. The King is too fat for his armor. Go find Aron Santagar. Tell him I need the breastplate stretcher. Now! What are you waiting for?"

hehehehehehe, I do enjoy these types of jokes. Less so when it's tiktok parents filming their kids who know nothing about cars asking for headlight fluid and posting it on social media for thousands of people to laugh over. *shudders* embarrassment and tomfoolery are for the people who were there, not for social media, that's just public humiliation.

"The woman tried to forbid me to fight in the melee. She's sulking in the castle now, damn her. Your sister would never have shamed me like that." "You never knew her like I did, Robert," Ned told him. "You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath. She would have told you that you have no business in the melee."

I always get the feeling Robert was in love with the idea of Lyanna Stark, like someone who has a crush on someone they've never spoken to and invents an entire persona to go with their face that has nothing to do with who they really are.

"- Oh, Cersei is lovely to look at, truly, but cold... the way she guards her cunt, you'd think she had all the gold of Casterly Rock between her legs. -"

page 300. it took 300 hundred pages for someone to say 'cunt.' Unlike the tv series where it takes up 46% of the script with 'fuck.' (and all its variations -ing -ed -er(s) -s)

Ned walked with the king to the jousting field. He had promised to watch the final tilts with Sansa; Septa Mordane was ill today, and his daughter was determined not to miss the end of the jousting.

'ill'? Please, that woman's hung over. Hmmm, Mordane's trauma response is alcoholism.

When the Knight of Flowers made his entrance, a murmer ran through the crowd, and he heard Sansa's fervent whisper, "Oh, he's so beautiful." Ser Loras Tyrell was slender as a reed, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. The commons realized in the same instant as Ned that the blue of the flowers came from sapphires, a gasp went up from a thousand throats. ... Sandsa clutched at his arm. "Father, don't let Ser Gregor hurt him," she said. "These are tourney lances," he told his daughter. "They make them to splinter on impact, so no one is hurt." Yet he remembered the dead boy in the cart with his cloak of crescent moons, and the words were raw in his throat.

Hey, Ned, just real quick? You do know that your eldest daughter saw that death yesterday right? Like you know that his dead body bleed out mere feet from her? You get that this probably isn't just her being a frightened child who's scared the pretty man will scratch his over blinged handsomeness, she's aware that his opponent Gregor Clegane murdered someone in this exact sport yesterday.

By then, Gregor was striding down the lists towards Ser Loras Tyrell, his bloody sword clutched in his fist. "Stop him!" Ned shouted, but his words were lost in the roar. Everyone else was yelling as well, and Sansa was crying.

Oh? Crying? Sansa? Interesting, and quite a departure from the 'Sansa at tourney' we saw in the previous chapter. Obviously, her emotional state is different but whether it's because she's fully mentally present or because the horse matters to her more than a stranger... well we're in the wrong POV to be sure. Or maybe she'd not crying and Ned's just assuming that she is because she has her hands over part of her face and she's panicking. Ned is... not the most observant when it comes to Sansa. (They did really well short-handing that with the doll in the show, I don't know if that was lifted from the books or if it was like Ned's ability to understand his daughter's logic well enough to explain it to Arya: added in there because the showrunners didn't trust the audience to follow things.)

"STOP THIS MADNESS," he boomed, "IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!" "The Hound went to one knee. Ser Gregor's blow cut air, and at last he came to his senses.

ngl, Sandor's knee-drop-dodge was one of my favourite moves from season 1 of the show. The timing of it! *chef's kiss*

"Tyrell had to know the mare was in heat," Littlefinger was saying. "I swear the boy planned the whole thing. Gregor has always favored huge, ill-tempered stallions with more spirit than sense." The notion seemed to amuse him. It did not amuse Ser Barristan Selmy. "There is small honor in tricks," the old man said stiffly.

It's interesting to keep seeing what dialogue has been given away to other people, and how that changes the characters subtly. This conversation is had between Littlefinger and Sansa in the show, where it works to create this character bond, a pseudo-relationship between them to lay the groundwork for later, but it also increases Sansa's apparent naivety, and not in a good way. D&D really did take so many layers out of her.

Ned remembered Robert's first child as well, a daughter born in the Vale when Robert was scarcely more than a boy himself. A sweet little girl; the young lord of Storm's End had doted on her. He used to make daily visits to play with the babe long after he had lost interest in the mother.

Oh! Oh, I know her, that's, uhm... Maya? Mara? I think her name starts with an 'M,' we meet her later when Sansa goes to the Vale. I never got that far the first time, but I've heard about her in some metas and seen her mentioned in some fics. Ahh, I'll look forward to meeting her! also, though: 'long after he had lost interest in the mother.' Tell me you don't read that and think "and if you'd gotten to have Lyanna after all, how long until you would have tired of her? How long until you were sick of her not being the perfect version you dreamed of? How long until you strayed from her?"

"- What was he doing that they had to kill him?" "Asking questions," Varys said, slipping out the door.

See, having seen the tv show, I think I know what's really going on, and why Jon Arryn was killed, but there's also part of me that keeps thinking "yes but I know they changed a lot of details, more as the show went on, what if this was one of them?" It's fun, because I have some context for things, but I also don't know what I know 100% so I'm trying to stay with what the text is telling me, but ohhhh, a reader cannot help themselves and has to theorize.

[garrick-cargyll]

jaehaera:

the pendant hangs in the hollow of her throat; a beautiful thing given to her by her white knight, and it almost seems to warm as his voice fills her ears. deep, and calm, and safe. upon first glance, common in targaryen fashion – three interlocking shapes easily mistaken for her family’s sigil. but, upon a second, greeted with intertwining snowdrops, so carefully carved they might have freshly sprung from cold earth.

and she will always take his hand. never again will it reach for her and miss. never, ever, she hopes, will she hear her voice cry out like it had for him, and his for her. and it is strange, knowing that fact and not knowing what it means. it perplexes her, lavender eyes fluttering a moment beneath silver-gold lashes. she lets the thought float away from her. she needs to remember the dance, now. her hand slips into his, and it is like an anchor. but suddenly, the years of dancing with invisible partners, to silent music, seems to vanish from her mind. the steps, the music, her mind a void hum. she knew them — and yet, seeing the others take to the floor, she feels utterly useless.

“it’s been a very long time.” she says, quietly, drawing up closer to him, just a step behind. and she is both aware and not aware of her hand in his. a quarter of her face hidden behind his arm, as she stares at the dancing couples. aware, because it is warm, and it is familiar and safe. unaware, because it is natural. natural to tap her invisible musical notes into his palm, instinct to rest her fingers just so. and there is a bloom of warmth in her chest — a charm of hummingbirds. she’d told him that, and he remembers. jaehaera’s own heart is hummingbird-fast, pleased, and some of her nervousness subsides.

she looks up at him, shyly, and then back at the dancers once more. she seems to be trying to convince herself. she wants to – but the steps, the steps. but she holds his hand, tightly, and nods her head. more to herself, but then, again to garrick. “flying can’t be so different,” she says, faraway. she wonders if she’s better suited to wings. soaring feathers on cold roaring wind, warning weathers thinned. eyelashes flutter, and she blinks. “it’s merely dancing on air.” fingers, tap, tap, tap. “hummingbirds never forget. they know every flower they’ve ever been to.” the steps, the steps. steps on stones.

“can we?”

Her hand slipped into his, as if it was always meant to be there. It was a simple acknowledgment. More than a thought, it was a feeling. And a notion filled with certainty followed; Garrick becoming fully aware of the fact that he would always offer his hand for his princess to take. Not at all because of duty, but as the inherent response to something else. Something else that built on its own, slowly but surely, as natural as breathing, as the tender smiles that passed between them became more frequent.

“Worry not. I know the dance, my princess,” the knight reassured her as they made their way to the floor, where couples swayed and twirled together. She felt her finger against his palm, carrying the melody with a tapping that matched his own heartbeat. Haera carried the tune well. “Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice a gentle whisper as he angled his face toward her. He could lead her through the dance if she trusted him to do so. She could enjoy the dancing, she could dream, fly in his arms; not fret much about which step followed which.

They stand in place, then, ready to begin the dance. The Cargyll lord asked for permission with a glance before he stepped forward, placing a hand on her waist. He still held her other hand and without thinking much, he dared to let their fingers intertwine. He could lead her through the dance, but if someone could teach him what flying felt like with his feet still on the ground, it was Jaehaera.

No one saw the world the way she did, no one possessed the peculiar wisdom and cleverness the princess with the lavender gaze did. He didn’t feel worthy of being welcomed into her world, but by the gods did he feel grateful that she cared to open up to him. “That sounds lovely. Not forgetting,” Garrick answered. She quietly inhabited plenty of the memories he wished he would never forget. This very moment was most certainly another treasured memory in the making. Her question was vague, but he found himself smiling despite it. They could dance. They could feel like flying. They could never forget. And so he didn’t hesitate in his reply. “We can,” he said, before he took the first step to initiate their dance.

[tokusaatsus]

I HEAR WEDDING BELLS, BUT THEY’RE NOT MINE

ft. sena izumi

© tokusaatsus 2022

warnings: mild mentions of vomit and violence

What good is an unloyal Knight?

Izumi ponders this as he kneels by the training ground, grass tickling the bare skin of his palms. He’s not wearing his gloves today, despite the fact that it’s getting frosty out. He’s always run cold, there’s no need for him to hide from it.

“Hey.”

Izumi doesn’t bother to look up. He knows it’s you. He always knows when it’s you. He thinks he could recognise you blind, from the lilt of your voice alone.

You plop down onto the grass next to him, uncaring of the way dewdrops splash against you. The material of your clothes is some of the finest in the nation. Made with beautiful lace embroidery, floral patterns weave their way across your bodice and ruffled sleeves, a vivid garden blooming against your skin. Leo-kun always did like to spoil you a little too much… Yet you seem unconcerned when the cream white fabric brushes against the dusty earth, possibly staining it. “Izumi-chan’s frowning again?” You make an exaggerated pout with your features, a mockery of his grim expression. “Izumi-chan is always frowning, though. What happens if your face gets stuck like that?”

He rolls his eyes at you and you giggle. “Y/N, you’re so~ annoying.”

“I know. You always say that. So tell me, tell me.” You place a hand on his knee, smiling gently. Even through the double layers of cloth, his pants and your gloves, his skin burns at the contact. He supposes it’s true what they say–love sets you alight. But if you’re not careful, it can burn you up into ash. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you think something’s wrong?” Izumi knows he’s deflecting, okay? And he knows you know too. But as always, you’re too kind to prod at something when he’s clearly uncomfortable. You’ve always been this way.

It’s a part of why he loves you.

You never try to push him into doing things. You always let him go at his own pace, while staying by his side like a (not-so) silent supporter. Even when he first Manifested his magic… Those deadly shards of ice, the ones that spiralled outwards like a barrage of frostbitten daggers at every surge of emotion that was too much for him to fully contain… No matter how many people he hurt, be it with his deadly ice or his even deadlier tongue, and yet you were always there–with bandages and healing salves from the local Apothecary and your gentle hands and soothing words.

“Izumi.” No honorifics, no teasing Izumi-cha~an, just his name. Plain and simple. His eyes flicker up to yours, unbidden. Because you called him. And who is he to deny you when you look at him like that? Your facial expression hasn’t changed outwardly but your eyes are sad.

He’s familiar with that kind of sadness.

It’s the look you’ve reserved for him, and him alone. During his apprenticeship, when everything was going wrong–Leo-kun, and the War, and Tenshouin, and Leo-kun, Leo-kun, Leo-kun–you always had that expression whenever you were around him.

Seeing him close himself off to the world, strangely reminiscent of a flower curling in on itself as though it could prevent the deadly hands that reached to tear its silky petals off… He hates that he's always the one making you feel like that.

“Yes?”

“You asked me why I thought something was wrong, no? Well, for starters, you’re sitting outside all alone. Why? There’s a party going on inside.” Yes, he’s well aware. He can hear the raucous noise from out here. “And didn’t Leo ask you to be his best man?”

That’s exactly it, though. Leo-kun asked him to be his best man. And Izumi tried, okay? He tried so fucking hard but guilt kept eating him up inside and bile kept rising in his throat and he felt like he might just spill his guts and his feelings onto the altar, for everyone to see and he just. He couldn’t do that. Not to anyone, not to Leo-kun, and especially not to you.

But you’re looking at him with those doe eyes, soft and full of concern and his heart skips a beat. For a second, he considers maybe telling you. All those words that he’s swallowed up over the years, never letting them slip, keeping them as tightly locked up as he can and he opens his mouth to tell you: I love you, I love you, I love you–

“Wahahaha! Sena! I knew Y/N would find you ☆!” Izumi’s heart sinks at the sound of those familiar cackles. When Leo-kun’s bottlebrush orange head appears, followed by the rest of his body, the first thing Izumi’s King does is wrap an arm around your waist. And you? You brighten at the contact.

“Leo! Yes, I found him. But he wanted to say something…?”

“...” Izumi shakes his head. He can’t do this. There’s no point. So what if he can’t have you. He can still be your friend. He’s honestly okay with that. As long as you’re in his life, and you’re happy. That’s all that matters, really. “It’s fine. We should go inside. What would the guests say if the most important members of the party are missing?”

“Right as always, Sena!” Leo-kun grins, skipping on ahead after a moment of silent communication with you.

You turn to him, an eyebrow raised. “‘We’? Does that mean you too, Izumi-chan?”

He gives you a faintly sardonic smile. “Of course. It’s your wedding, after all.”

notes!

WC: 919 words

reze txt HI ASH <33 here is my promised izuleo angst (i didn’t see ur fic hit 15k eyes) so ig ur gonna have to suffer <33 i have been churning out angst like crazy i think my period’s coming soon /j ANYWAYS!! i hope u cried reading this bcuz after the leoy/n wedding? sena sure did ;) LMFAO

[ddarker-dreams]

Yandere Behavior / Diluc Ragnvindr.

→ Yandere MBTI type: RDHS.

“[First]... I hope you’re well aware that I derive no pleasure from seeing you sad like this. I know it isn’t easy. Nothing meaningful in life ever is. You have to understand, that everything I do is for your protection. Please keep this in mind.”

Cruel / Reverent

Diluc is as reverent as a yandere can come. He places you on a higher-up pedestal, believing none fully worthy of your presence, not even himself at times. You serve as an intimate reminder of what he needs to protect. It doesn’t matter if you’re not a completely morally upstanding person, Diluc will play mental gymnastics to paint you as the pure individual he wants you to be. This means that even if you were fine living on your own, or competent in other ways, he’ll stick by the fact you need his help. And he’s more than happy to give you it. 

He struggles to get his overwhelming feelings across. When you’re around, his mind is going at a thousand miles per minute, basking in every little thing you do or say. Diluc flusters himself just by staring in your general direction. However, he never loses his poker face, so you might be of the impression he’s glaring at you. Which couldn’t be further from the truth — though you wouldn’t know this until it’s too late. 

You might pick up on the fact that he jumps at the opportunity to impress or help you. For a long time, he’ll be too cautious to seek you out of his own volition, fearing that he might make a bad impression. If you come to him, it’s a different story. This applies to when you’re kidnapped as well. It’s possible to gain some freedoms by playing your cards right. Diluc isn’t a fool, but if you bat your eyelashes enough and rub a hand over his arm, he might just agree to anything (within reason). He has the biggest soft spot for you.

Aware / Delusional 

This is a tricky one because he doesn’t lean heavily towards either of the two. He’s lucid enough to hide what he’s doing, since he knows it’s wrong deep down, but he also finds little ways to justify it to himself. It’s these allowances that he grants himself that land him in the delusional category. Diluc already works in circles that might be considered morally grey, as he’s abandoned the Knights to accomplish his goals on his terms. Bending the rules to accomplish something greater is nothing new to Diluc. He’s a “means to an end” type of guy through and through.

Diluc leans into the potential justifications he’s found in your life to avoid feeling too guilty. He’ll even mention it to you, hoping that it might provide you the comfort that it provides him. He mentions how unsafe the world is in its current state, that without him, it’s likely you would’ve gotten hurt. Now that you’re under his watch, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. The same goes for finances. You can completely focus on your hobbies now, isn’t that great? Money is no longer an issue. Those pesky things that made life, well, life, have been cut out. He thinks it’s for the better. You think he’s annoying.

He isn’t delusional in the sense where he’s convinced himself that you return his love. Not yet at least. He hasn’t completely written off the possibility (he’s praying every night lmao). Diluc is just trying to wrap you into his mindset. That maybe you don’t have to love him, he can deal with that, but at least acknowledge how much your life has improved. Look at how many pretty outfits you have now! Your bed is so soft and comfortable, isn’t it? And the food, it’s all cooked to your preference, made by some of the finest chefs. There’s no way you would have this luxury without him. 

Manipulative / Honest

This plays somewhat into his form of delusion. Diluc isn’t going to actively manipulate you, or at least, not on purpose. That’s what ends up happening anyway, but he completely buys everything he’s selling you. Which makes it more sinister in a way. There will be no convincing him that he’s in the wrong, that no, locking someone up in a golden cage isn’t justifiable no matter how hard he tries to make it more palpable. 

He’s very upfront with his expectations once getting over the initial fear of speaking to you. It’s likely that he’d try to romance you the traditional way before jumping to anything more drastic, going with all the tried and true techniques. Diluc might consider it embarrassing, but if it ends with you in his arms, then so be it. While he might not outright confess to you, there’s no confusing what his intentions are. He wants you to be with him and promises to do anything that would allow that. That sentiment is completely genuine too. 

Diluc doesn’t play mind games or stir up trouble on purpose for his own entertainment. He’s at his happiest when you’re behaving, not in any danger, and allowing him to pamper you to his heart’s content. He’s a simple guy in that regard. You don’t have to constantly be on your toes around him, he’s easy to keep content once you know how to do it. His rules might feel ridiculous at times (like not being allowed to hold knives, even if it’s for cooking), yet they’re not set up to make you fail like sadistic yanderes. He says he wants to keep you safe and he means it. 

Strict / Lenient 

Diluc is overprotective to a degree you almost find impressive. He’s thought of everything, considering details that you wouldn’t have ever dreamed up. Your furniture is nailed to the floor, the windows are made with reinforced glass, the locks he uses are complex and impossible to pick. This extends outside of the things you know about. The servants of his estate have to go through a harsh vetting process, all to ensure there’s no possibility you’ll escape with their help. No expense is spared in ensuring your safety, as he describes it. 

Your contact with others extends to him, his most trusted maid, and that’s it. There’s the added bonus that you’re more inclined to speak with him because you’re so desperate for socialization. He considers this a win-win situation, though he would never admit that a part of why he keeps you isolated is to satisfy his possessive streak. That would be too selfish a reason. The word selfish doesn’t sit well on his tongue. For his own sanity, he keeps it the supposedly altruistic goal of protecting you from this who would do you harm. Mixing some lies with some truth.

Where some yanderes might begin to ease up their restrictions on you as time goes on, Diluc isn’t like that. A few more rooms in the Ragnvindr estate will be opened up, yet that’s as far as he’ll allow you to wander; the outdoors are strictly off-limits save for rare occasions. There are just too many unpredictable variables that would worry him. He tries to keep things from getting stale by taking your interests into account. That can only compensate for so much, however, and he knows that and feels a bit guilty over it when you look sad. It’s not like he wants you to be miserable. It’s just... a byproduct of his overbearing nature. 

[boldlyvoid]

can u do a blurb about reader wanting a baby and asking her co-worker Spencer to be the donor because he's smart and nice and she wants a cute baby?

you said blurb and i read 2K word fic apparently lmao

Late nights behind a desk were the worst. Y/N hated reading over case file, after case file, of horrific things as she tried to choose where they went next.

The only plus side was that she wasn’t alone, Spencer was at his desk just beside her. Like he always was. They had an interesting friendship, to say the least.

Ever since Y/N joined the BAU, Spencer and her were glued at the hip. They had all the same interests, liked the same music and movies, and they spat out information the same way, they were like each other’s dorky other half— but it was just a friendship.

They had a tradition to watch at least one movie together after a case, to just chill for a bit together. Always randomly picking one of their apartments to go to, spending the night together until one of them eventually wandered off to bed. Leaving the other on the couch.

They weren’t aware of their feelings for each other for a while. Both of them being so used to being alone, and never having anyone be interested in them before. It was hard to understand if the feelings they had were pure friendship, or if it could ever be more. If the sex would fuck everything up and take away that perfect happy place they found in each other, or would it make the bond stronger?

She noticed the crush before Spencer showed any signs of liking her back. She woke up every morning thinking of him, that's when she came to the conclusion that it was more than just a friendship. She wanted him in her life forever, she wanted to kiss his perfect lips and hug his soft body, wake up beside his messy hair and just love him for the rest of eternity.

She sighed as she picked up another file, not excited to learn about the horrible acts taking place in what people called, “the best country in the world.” She’d disagree any day of the week.

This one was a file about some missing kids apparently being spotted in a van altogether in Georgia, it looked interesting enough to be the next case. She hated reading all the info, seeing every kid's happy face in the file knowing that’s not how they looked now.

“Good god,” she groaned as she flipped through the case.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked over the divider.

“Nothing,” she shrugged, “just a bad case.”

She handed it to him over the desk, hearing him flip through all the sheets as he read a million words a minute. “We should show this to Emily first thing,” Spencer agreed, pushing himself over to her desk in his wheely chair.

“I will,” she smiled softly, taking the file back from him and placing it on her desk.

Spencer stood then, making his way into her space and rubbing his hand over her back slightly. “Are you okay?”

She sighed, “actually. no, I was telling Garcia I want to have a baby soon, and then I see things like this and I’m scared to do it alone but I don’t have any other option?” Ranting to him like he was her therapist.

“What do you mean?”

She turned in her chair to look up at him, his soft brown eyes really caring to hear the answer. “Sit,” she insisted.

He pulled the chair over more, sitting close enough that their knees touched. “I’m 36, I’m not having any luck finding a husband or a wife, I want a baby and if I have to do it myself I will, but what if I’m not enough? What if I have a boy and he grows up to be a killer cause he never had a dad?”

“Y/N,” Spencer’s voice was soft as he looked at her with a confused scrunch on his face. “That couldn’t happen, you’re a wonderful person, I love having you on the team and in my life, I know you’d raise good kids, you should do it.”

“Really?” She beamed at him, the words touching her heart and making her swoon a bit.

“I mean, it would be hard,” he added reason to the conversation. “You’d have to take time off, which would be good for bonding. My mother raised me alone and I turned out semi-fine, I don't hold any resentment for her not finding someone for me to call dad or even step-mom for that matter. I think if you give them all the love in the world like I know you’re capable of, your child will love you like you’re their whole world.”

She laughed as she noticed the tears welling in her eyes, waving her hand's in front of her face so she wouldn’t fully sob. “Do you want to be the donor?” She made a joke to change the topic.

Spencer laughed then too, “sure!”

Everything got serious again then, she looked at him a little differently. “Really? Cause honestly, you’re like a Grade A donor profile in the most expensive clinic!” She couldn’t help herself from laughing again at the absurdity.

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad, 40 isn’t too old to have a child, is it?” He seemed to have decided that rather fast.

“Okay,” she nodded with a smile, “okay. That’s cool, sick,” she felt the words get smaller as she thought it over.

“I get it if you were kidding,” Spencer spat out. “I realize now that you might have been making a joke, I hope it’s not weird that I agreed so fast, it’s just that I think you’re a very beautiful and smart woman and the idea of helping you make a child makes me really excited. I think it would be a very good idea if you were being serious, but I get it if you’re not.”

She let him get it all out, always loving when he got like this on a case or in person, nervous or just because he wanted to talk, she loved to listen. And no one ever let him finish his thoughts, always wanting to beat him to the punch.

“Spence, I think you’re really handsome and smart too,” she smiled. “If you’re also serious, I am too.”

“How would we?” He asked as he pulled at the top button of his dress shirt, swallowing like he couldn't breathe all of a sudden.

“If you’re not opposed, I’m sure the good old-fashioned way would work?” She laughed, laying her hand on his knee softly.

It was like sparks flew at that moment as if all the fluorescent lights in the bullpen could have exploded and she wouldn’t have even noticed. Captivated by Spencer's eyes as he gasped at her touch.

“Not opposed in the slightest,” he said softly as he held his own hand over hers.

She couldn’t help herself from smiling. “Well, I think I’m all done here if you want to come to my place for a movie?”

“Sure,” he replied, offering her a hand as they stood up together.

He returned his chair to his desk, both of them grabbing their coats and bags and rejoining at the door.

“I should go say goodnight to Penny,” Y/N said softly. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah,” he followed her through the door and down the hall to the tech room.

“Knock knock,” Y/N said as she walked through the open door. “Oh great and knowledgeable one, I’ve come with my nightly farewell.”

“Oh my knight, I shall miss you,” Penelope played along, sauntering over to her and wrapping her up in a hug. “I leave you with this until your return.”

“Through scorching deserts, and blistering winds, I will make it back to you, always,” she tried not to laugh as she hugged her back. “I also brought forth the jester.”

Spencer was laughing in the doorway as the two of them looked at him, “hi?”

“The pretty boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Um,” Y/N smiled, “Spencer and I are just going back for our nightly movie.”

Penelope looked at both of them, jaw slightly gaped, “nightly? I thought it was a case by case thing?”

“It’s a good excuse for us to talk,” Spencer smiled at her.

“Mhmm,” she smirked, “well have fun.”

She pulled Y/N back into another hug, hiding her face from Spencer, “I need all the dirty deets in the morning.”

Y/N smacked her arm softly as she pulled back, “goodnight pretty penny.”

“Farewell brave knight, handle with care, Jester,” Penelope pointed her finger at him, giving him a knowing glance.

“Yes, oh Knowledgeable one, always,” he blushed.

He reached out his hand for Y/N, interlocking their fingers as they left her office and headed towards the elevator. A rare moment of bravery on his part, holding hands like this didn’t spread a lot of germs.

“We’re going to have to discuss a lot of logistics like realistically this isn’t going to be just a fuck and oh look its a baby. This is a real live baby that we need to raise and care for,” she reminded him as the elevator doors shut.

“I’d like to be as involved as you’d let me be,” Spencer replied. “I don’t have to be 'dad' to them, I could be uncle Spence that’s fine too.”

“Oh no, you’d be Dad for sure,” she nudged him slightly. “I mean like, weekends and holidays and birthdays, your mom will want to see them surely, my parents will want to see them. Housing,” she looked at him horrified. “I have an apartment with 2 bedrooms, I don’t think I could let them sleep somewhere without me.”

“I have been looking at houses,” Spencer added before the doors opened to the garage, “you’re driving right?”

“Yeah, you were saying?” She replied, digging her keys out of her purse and leading him towards the car.

“Derek Morgan, I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet, he fixes up old homes in DC and Virginia now. He just finished one and I helped him with it. I think I’m going to buy it from him. It has 4 bedrooms, we could all live under the same roof? It would be easier to co-parent.”

She was amazed at how fast he adapted to this as if he’d been having the same thoughts she was having. At a certain point wanting kids becomes a pipe dream filled with desperation and emptiness, he looks like he’s experienced it too.

She opened her door and sat down before replying to him again. Thinking about how wonderful he was going to be during this process, “thank you, Spencer.”

“For what?” He asked as they both closed their doors.

She sighed, relaxing into her seat as she started the car. She turned to him softly, not wanting to cry as she spoke softly. “Being a mom is more of a dream to me than joining the BAU was, this is the best gift you could give me.”

He reached his hand out again, holding it softly. Running his thumb over her knuckles. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” she nodded softly.

He couldn’t make eye contact with her, staring at their hands as he rubbed her skin.

“Um, I’ve been pretty infatuated with you since you joined,” he let it out finally. Like a ton of bricks off his back he relaxed a bit, “after everything with Maeve, Cat and Max… oh god, and JJ... I was so worried that if I got too close to you I’d lose you. I tried to keep the feelings in, that's why I said what I did to Penelope. She knows how I feel about you.”

It was like fireworks were going off in her chest as the butterflies erupted inside of her. She sat up, turning to him more and ripping her hand from his grasp.

It startled him, he looked at her anxiously as if she was going to yell at him. But she placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss.

His arms snaked around her waist, wishing they could get closer if it wasn’t for the damn centre console of her car. Pressing their lips together, hard, as they breathed each other in. Desperation taking control, she wasn’t able to let go of him.

When she finally did pull away, however, the look on his face was priceless. Like expensive art, every line and freckle had a meaning. He was surprised, enamoured, grateful, desperate for more.

She smiled softly, rubbing her thumbs over his cheek. “Good, cause it would be awkward having your baby and not getting to love you every day too.”

taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[six-magnitude-girl]

The Dawn of the New Ackerman

Summary: Everyone decided to be true to their promises.

Chapter: 4/5

Tags: Pseudo-Incest, Alternate Universe - Medieval Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Found Family, Possessive Behavior, Eventual Explicit Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, no beta we die like Kuchel, this is what happens when you write with Goblet of Fire playing on loop, this is off the mark tbh, my self indulgent saccharine concoction

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so mistakes were made.

***

No matter how many times Eren scrutinized the note, it was Mikasa's handwriting. 

He wished he was mistaken but the truth was undeniable as he had received countless letters from her. Adding salt to the wound was Mikasa using Beren to send the letter. How dare she! 

Unable to reconcile with the truth, he turned to the knight kneeling before him and wondered what possibly possessed her to do this. 

Actually, he knows, he just never realized the extent Mikasa was willing to go to. Now he knows…

Eren suddenly laughed and the knight further lowered his head, not daring to risk catching the future duke's eyes. 

The knight was hesitant to accept but he ultimately left Eren's study with a small fortune in his pockets. 

***

It's already late but Mikasa still hasn't come to his room no matter how long Eren waited. 

He was in denial, he knew she wouldn't come tonight. On normal days, Eren wouldn't have minded… Besides, Mikasa never promised to come to his room every night for his 'bedtime story' but there was a sort of understanding because she always did. Was he wrong to count on it?

In the end, Eren was the one who came to her with a glass of milk and a history book.

The fact that she was not in her room, gave Eren hope.

***

Mikasa was fully aware of her predeterminism. 

Evenso, she also knows that nothing is truly set in stone. We make our own destinies or at the very least, die trying. She might be being too judgemental and critical of someone she doesn't know but how could she not?  

History repeats itself. Why was she even surprised this happened?  

Mikasa wasn't asking for the moon or the stars. She doesn't harbor great dreams or ambitions of any sort. Everything she wants out of life is normal, pathetic in its mundanity. There's no reason she should be in a situation where she's left with no choice and the best thing she could do is buy time. 

Mikasa is roaming around the Astronomy Tower's library section, passing through the bookshelves with no real purpose and destination. 

It is known that reading is like traveling in time. 

It wasn't what she had in mind when she read these journals. Nonetheless, she might as well have experienced the hopeful beginnings, the triumphs, and the tragic endings herself as she knows their stories by heart. 

In her diminishing present, Mikasa wondered if traveling in time shortened her time as a consequence. 

Mikasa wished she had learned how to stop time instead. 

Someone is walking up to her and she somehow knew it was Eren.

She didn't turn around and he didn't say anything as he silently draped a coat on her shoulders. 

"Thank you, Eren," she murmured, keeping her head down. 

He opened his mouth but ultimately didn't say anything. Instead, he adjusted the coat around her to make sure she was fully engulfed in it. 

She continued with her stroll like a hamster on a wheel and he wordlessly walked three steps behind her.

After the ninth time that they circled the bookshelves, Eren has had enough and seized Mikasa's wrist to halt her movement. 

His throat tightened but hope gave him courage. "Mikasa, dance with me?" 

Her furrowed brows melted and a wistful smile escaped her. 

After starting the music box, he has a hand on the small of her back to lead her to the center of the lower dome where they have always danced. 

They looked at each other. Eren was so much taller than Mikasa now. He took her hand, pulling her close to him, their breaths touching each other. 

Unlike back then, Eren took the lead this time. Mikasa didn't need to hold back or slow down for him. 

It was a different experience for Mikasa who has never danced this way before. She can't pinpoint the difference between dancing with Levi and Eren, all she knew is that it was not the same. 

Their eyes never left each other, even as he lifts her and spins her around in the air. Each time, Eren is sure to let Mikasa down slowly, almost as if he wishes not to let her go at all. There was barely any weight on her toes as it touches the ground again. 

Mikasa has always seen things in gray and wonders when she started seeing the world in colors. 

The music stopped and they clung to each other, her more than him. 

There were a lot of things Eren wanted to say but seeing her in such low spirits, he couldn't find it in himself to. 

And when silence and anger don't work, he turns to another emotion that seems to reign supreme when Mikasa is involved. 

"I will protect you, Mikasa." 

She could feel his hot breath on her ear as he whispers one of the things she didn't know she wanted to hear. It put her on a high, high enough for her to lose consciousness in her dream and wake up to her reality. She gently removed herself from his strong arms. 

Mikasa looked up at the glass roof, the subtle red tint of the moon complimenting the colors of the stained glass windows. 

"Ackermans must go where they want to go and die where they must." then caught his eyes when she looked back down. 

It's a side of Mikasa that is the most similar to him and yet he never truly understood. He wanted to swim deeper into her ocean even if it was dark. "You're not alone in this. I won't let–" he was desperate to make her understand. 

She shakes her head, making him falter. 

"We are all alone in this cruel world, Eren. That's just the way it is." 

Eren reached an unmarked territory. He's deeper in her ocean where it's just dark and he couldn't see anything. There's no moonlight that has always been his guide in swimming into her waters. He's afraid of the unknown but he's ready. 

"You should focus on yourself, your ambitions. Go for your dreams, Eren… and never ever let go." Her eyes are in the library, a pained look flashed in her eyes before darting back at him, begging him to understand. "That's the only guarantee a person can have."

It dawned on Eren what sets Mikasa apart from all the other noble ladies despite growing up sheltered in her tower. She hasn't even attended any tea parties, citing her 'weak constitution' as a reason. 

From a very young age, Eren's ability to read people became a necessity to survive a very hostile environment. 

They are the same. 

Mikasa always seemed effortless, and confident and had it all together. She's graceful and composed but what people never saw is how desperate she is. 

The reason Eren connected with Mikasa was that he saw the same desperation to survive that he had in her.

It all made sense to him now. Eren cups her face as the last piece of the puzzle falls into place. Mikasa fights the urge to close her eyes with how warm his hands are against her cold skin. 

"...hypocrite." and it made him love her even more. 

His eyes glanced at her mouth. "Your mouth tells me that–" and he thumbs her rosy lips. "–while your actions say otherwise." 

"I have always been true to my desires above all else like an Ackerman should be." 

"Then why did you leave the temple?" 

Mikasa paused before speaking, "I am not cut out to be a priestess." She looks away. 

"Stop lying." Eren was growing impatient with Mikasa's blatant lies. "Never lie to me again, it's unbecoming of you." 

Mikasa suddenly became very aware of their proximity. “It’s getting late, we should go to bed.” 

Eren only looked at her obvious attempt to change the topic. "I'll escort you." he walked away before she could say anything more. 

They were silent the whole time they walked on the way to her room and it unnerved her. She could only swallow her protests when he invited himself inside her room. 

When she saw the milk and book on her table, her eyes softened. “I thought I’d come to you for a change.” 

“You didn’t need to. I can’t come tonight anyways.” his eyes hardened. 

“Why?” Mikasa froze for a second before pretending she didn’t hear anything. 

Eren was sitting at the foot of Mikasa's bed staring at her as she nervously paced around the room trying her best to think of a way to get rid of him without arousing his suspicion. 

"I am a bit tired. It's late, I think I'll sleep now." 

When he ignored her, she walked toward him. "Eren?" She's standing in front of him, worried because he's not saying anything. 

"I thought I told you not to fucking lie to me." Eren fumed and she flinched when he looked up with his narrowed eyes directed at her.  

"What are you talking about?" Mikasa needed him to leave as soon as possible but she was at a loss about what he was so angry about. 

Tired of this back and forth between them, he showed her a familiar note in his pocket and all the blood left Mikasa's body. 

Eren's breathing heavily through his nose. "What the hell were you thinking?!" 

Mikasa's throat suddenly felt dry. "That's nothing…" she never expected to be found out. She tried to think of viable excuses but all she felt is shame for having to resort to such methods to solve her predicament. 

Maybe she can now directly ask for his understanding since he now knows. But even with her optimism always kept within arm's length, she figured out that there was no way he'd allow it. Eren would sooner wage war on the Reiss Royal family if anything else. That knowledge comforts and burdens Mikasa at the same time. 

"Nothing?" He cruelly read the letter aloud, much to her humiliation before tossing it away. 

The note lightly fell on the floor.  

"Asking a man to come to your room late at night is nothing?" his eyes scrutinized the gown she was wearing and felt further aggrieved with the fact that Mikasa was wearing one of her temple gowns. 

She crossed her arms and didn't say anything. 

"Is this what they taught you in the temple?" he wasn't done with her. 

"Regardless of what happens, you would still be the duke!" she snapped. Mikasa doesn't care what people are going to say about her but she doesn't think she could ever handle Eren's judgment. 

Eren's laugh was condescending when she finally lost her temper.  

She only shakes her head in resignation. 

His sneer melted when she turned away from him "Is that supposed to appease me?" but he was on his feet, shaking her shoulders before she could walk away from him. 

Mikasa sighed and closed her eyes. "It's not what you think… I was planning on striking a deal with him and having him marry me," she explained. 

Eren didn't say anything and it urged her to continue. "I would be a good wife to him and even without father's support, I have money saved up on the side to have a decent amount of dowry." 

He blinked "You're leaving me again..." 

His rawness caught her off guard. "W-what?" 

"Don't." His ocean green eyes are staring right into her soul. 

Mikasa wanted to take away the pain from his eyes but was unsure how. 

They wondered if he ever uttered those words to her nine years ago, would she still have left for the temple? 

"I will always be by your side." She touched his face but he remained rigid. "If you ever need my help, I'll always be there for you."

"Why would you do all that for me?" the question that has always been at the back of his mind, like a ghost always plaguing his mind. His fingers are twitching with the urge to touch her but he's controlling himself. 

"You're my family. You're the most important person in my life, Eren." In this she's confident. There's no hesitation or lies in her words. 

"Family…" Eren frowned and was silent for a while. 

"If you get married, what then?" Her hand dropped from his face. 

It wasn't enough to assuage the madness inside Eren. He grabbed her wrist to stop her from putting space between them. 

"You'll forsake me for your husband. You'll be his… family. Not mine." 

Mikasa is shaking her head and struggling to find the words to make Eren understand. 

"Where does that leave me?" 

She tried touching his face with her other hand but he seized her wrist with his other hand. It breaks her heart because she could see how tormented he is. With her wrists in his custody, she slowly twisted them to gain leverage and direct his palm on her heart. "You'll always have a place in this." 

Eren could almost hear the beating of her heart with his hand on her chest. 

They were quiet for a while before he spoke again. "...I still haven't told you my birthday wish." 

That got her attention. 

"Anything." She was quick in her response and she meant it.

Eren found her blind trust in him endearing. She's jaded but still so innocent. 

Mikasa hasn't forgotten about the promise underneath their tree. She swore deep down to fulfill whatever wish he had, anything to make him feel better about what was to come because she doesn't have any choice. 

"I want you to stay with me. Just the two of us." 

Time slowed down. 

"Now and forever." Eren lightly pressed his lips against hers and they felt this electricity between them, making her close her eyes.

Time stopped. 

Eren pulled back, heaving, feeling just as overwhelmed as Mikasa. 

Her eyes snapped open as she tried to register what just happened. He watched Mikasa with a piercing look in his eyes as she pieced everything together. 

Their eyes met and she felt the air leaving her lungs. She panicked and tried to put some distance between them but he was not budging. 

Tired of her struggles, he tilted his head and went for a deep kiss. He moved his lips to massage hers, wetting it in the process.

A hand at the back of her head firmly kept her in place. She tried to speak out but he didn't let her. Instead, he took advantage of the opening by slipping his tongue inside her mouth to finally taste her.

Mikasa tried to close her mouth but he was faster. Letting go of her head, he seized her jaw instead; clamping on it tight to make sure she couldn't close it. His warm tongue wasn't shy in exploring her mouth. 

Inaudible noises could be heard from her end as she helplessly squeezed her eyes tighter when a taste that didn't belong to her spread. 

His arm around her waist is holding onto her tight, slightly lifting her to align their mouths causing her to be on her toes. 

When Eren felt Mikasa slightly go limp, he maneuvered them into the bed. With Eren on top of Mikasa, he briefly breaks the kiss to look at her. 

She turned her head to avoid his eyes, focusing on catching her breath. It felt like no air would ever be enough for her as she heaves. Mikasa never imagined in a thousand years that her little brother would do something like this. 

He didn't say anything nor forced her to face him. He only kissed her cheeks and licked the drool that escaped at the side of her mouth before nibbling her ear.

Mikasa felt chills running down her spine with Eren's attack on her ear but nothing compared to the words he whispered "You're okay doing this with that knight but not with me?" He tried to sound nonchalant but she could hear the tremors in his voice.

"It's not what you think!" Is this why he's doing this? Everything must be a misunderstanding then! she thought. 

Renewed, she shakes her head and her hands tapped on his chest repeatedly to get him off her but he was too heavy. If he would just let her explain, she's sure that this would be resolved in no time. 

Eren's hand splayed on her neck. He raised himself up to look at her and she forgot what she was going to say as she was taken aback by how angrier he was. 

"Don't fucking lie to me." His hand gripped the fabric on her neck, "I am not a kid. I know exactly what you're planning to do." 

She couldn't even scream with how one quick pull from him tore the top part of her dress, exposing her ample breasts. 

He untied the string of his tunic and tug it over his head. She couldn't move with his full weight firmly pressing her down the mattress. Mikasa's rosy nipples grew hard against Eren's bare chest.

"...what are you doing?" Mikasa's heart was beating out of her chest when she finally plucked up the courage to ask. She wasn't afraid of him. Eren could never hurt her. She was afraid of what would change. He was her most precious person and in light of what was currently happening to her, she was trying her best to preserve her image of him. She wanted things to stay the same. Mikasa never claimed to be a strong person. 

Foreheads touching, nose to nose, heart to heart, he took her right hand and clasped their hands together "Not letting go." before silencing her with his mouth on hers. 

Eren knows that he could be potentially ruining the only meaningful relationship he'll ever have but he couldn't help it. The heart wants what it wants and he's tired of the same old story. He'll be damned if he lets things unfold the same way. 

His kisses are coaxing like he's sucking the life out of her but less sloppy this time. He broke the kiss to look at her when he noticed she wasn't moving. 

Mikasa is shivering and has her eyes squeezed shut underneath him. He mentally berated himself for being too hasty, he'll fix it. He doesn't want her afraid of him. 

Eren caressed Mikasa's cheek and kissed her forehead before going down to her nose, and lips and from there he trailed down on her neck. Her breaths become labored as he continues to alternate between licking, nibbling, and sucking her neck. He tried to be gentle but seeing the red marks forming on her milky complexion only spurred him on. 

Hearing her low whimper underneath him made him stop biting her shoulders. He growled as he struggled to stop himself from just surrendering to his urges. 

He reminds himself that this should also be good for her. He needs her to want this as much as he does. He trailed kisses up on her jaw before lightly going back to her lips. 

"Look at me." She opened her eyes slightly, peeking at him through her long eyelashes. 

"Follow my lead." He squeezed her hand to remind her of his presence. 

"Kiss me back, Mikasa." he nibbled her lips, urging her to open her mouth and let his tongue in. "Breathe through your nose," he instructed with his mouth barely leaving hers. 

Minutes after she shyly started reciprocating, he guided her hands around his neck and was pleased with how tightly she clung to him. 

Things took a turn now that she's kissing him back. They took their time to explore each other's mouths. 

Eren kneaded Mikasa's breasts, smug with how hard she tried but couldn't stay completely silent. He loves how her firm globes fit perfectly in his hands like it was made for him, like she's made for him. She felt so sensitive to the touch and her rosy pert nipples are rock hard against his palms.

Swallowing her breathy moans excites and frustrates him at the same time. He reminds himself to be patient but he constantly feels like he's losing control.  

Eren started grinding and humping Mikasa and she was quick to reciprocate in this new dance that they found themselves in. 

She ran her fingers through Eren's long hair, intoxicated with exchanging saliva with him and her newfound desire to rub her body on him. Their kisses turned frantic as if building into something but they don't know what.

His other hand snaked down on the slit of her dress to easily access her leg. He grinned through their kisses because he felt a gush of fluid on her inner thighs.   

He couldn't stop himself anymore when he saw how lost and dejected she looked when he broke the kiss to remove their remaining clothes. 

Mikasa let out a yelp seeing his bare member, seemingly defying gravity with how it stands upright with its enormous size.  

If he wasn't in dire need of her, he would have laughed at her reaction but he's struggling not to just rut into her as it is. 

Eren's erection twitched seeing how she couldn't take her mystified eyes off of it. He knows she has many questions but wasn't in the mood to answer any of them. She can get better acquainted with his member afterward. 

He tore her skirt and she covered her eyes with both of her hands. She tried squirming away to hide herself but he was faster and pinned her legs. 

Eren salivated at the sight of her. 

"Why does it have no-" In men's lessons at the academy and crude materials, it always has hair. 

"The temple–" she's still trying to hide herself but he has taken a hold of her ankle. "–taught us grooming. The sugar…" she trailed off, peeking through her fingers to see why he stopped moving and got so quiet. 

Eren felt lava running through his veins while looking at the entirety of Mikasa's state of undress. 

"You're so…" 

Their eyes met and a moment passed between them where he had told her without words what he thought of her. 

Mikasa's blush reached her upper chest when Eren licked his lips. 

He caressed her bald sex in featherlike circular motions that sent tingling sensations to her. 

He moaned with his half-hearted attempts to put his tip inside of her. Her face scrunched up in pain and she covered her face again. 

Eren grabbed Mikasa's ankles to spread her. Her insides glistened with her arousal much to his satisfaction. He wants her to witness what they're about to do. 

"Look at us." He rubbed his hot rod in her moist petals, wetting it.  

He slowly rubbed his length at her entrance. It was hitting her clitoris and it was a new sensation for Mikasa altogether. She had never been more aware of her groin area up until this moment. 

"E-eren…" She doesn't know what she's begging for but his ocean green eyes visibly darkened at her soft pleas.

Mikasa sucked a breath and dug herself deeper into her pillow when he entered her in one swift move. 

Eren finds himself growing impatient; aside from being a tight fit, he felt a barrier stopping him from going further. He groaned feeling her pillowy hot walls gripping him. 

Not wanting to hurt her any further, he attacked her breast. He ran his tongue around it, lightly biting it and testing how much could fit in his mouth.

He squeezed her chest and alternately licked her nipples.

To soothe her little whimpers, he reached for her face to caress her cheeks. He inserted his thumb inside her mouth as he resumed his attack on her breast. 

Wet with her saliva, he took his thumb out of her mouth and used it to gently rub her clitoris before pushing further inside of her. 

Mikasa could only pant in pain. 

She saw Eren looking lost on how to alleviate her discomfort and it somehow made it all better. She instinctively reached for him. 

They met halfway and kissed passionately. The noises of kissing filled the room and it roused them even more. 

He buried the entirety of his length inside of her and she screamed in his mouth before settling into little breathy pants. He didn't move to let her adjust despite the uncontrollable itch to stab her using his tool over and over again. 

"We're one." he groaned, feeling his rationality melting further inside of her. 

Mikasa's eyes are closed, face still scrunched up having her guts rearranged but nodded nonetheless which earned her a kiss on the forehead. 

Eren kissed her tears away before concentrating on playing with her clitoris. He's watching every bit of her reaction, determined to commit it to memory. 

With the way he was playing with her body, it didn't take long for her to accept him. 

Their tongues intertwined, distracting her as he slowly thrust in and out of her. He never thought something could feel this good, he couldn't stop thumping her against the mattress.  

The pleasure that she feels overwhelmed by any sort of residual pain. "Ere…" 

"Mikasa!" they laced their fingers tightly, taking that as a signal to bury himself deeper as if to maim her. 

"Wa-Wait!" Mikasa is panicking as she feels something building up. "I feel something!" 

Eren nodded to himself knowing what was to come. "Have this with me, Mikasa." he kissed her to silence her before thrusting faster. 

Even with her reservations, she deliriously couldn't stop rocking her hips to meet his thrusts. 

Mikasa forcibly broke free from Eren's mouth and cried on his shoulder as she came. 

Despite the pulsing tightness of her cunt, he didn't stop or slow down because it was his turn and it sent them both into a frenzy.

If what happened earlier didn't kill her, this time she was convinced she was going to die when he didn't stop moving after she fell apart. 

Eren pulls his length out, leaving the tip in, before slamming right back into her with his full weight. 

Mikasa couldn't think to ask for a break with his intensity.

It doesn't matter who hears them; the obscene sound of their lovemaking filled the room. 

It wasn't long before Eren released himself inside of her, his groans filling the room. 

Mikasa could only roll her eyes back with the added sensation of his hot seed spilling directly inside her cervix, prompting the second wave of her release.

He waited to go soft before exiting her. He didn't bother wiping the evidence of their lovemaking and laid down on the left side of the bed. He stared at her unconscious frame before pulling her into his arms. 

Countless thoughts and plans grounded him but most of all he feels free. 

It's like the knots in his heart are finally untangling themselves, allowing life to flow through it. 

Contentment overflowed his senses with Mikasa locked in his arms.  

Eren pulled the covers on them and he let sleep overtake him. 

***

It was still dark when they woke up. Eren is laying on his back while Mikasa lies on her side with her head nestling at the crook of his arm. 

Their sated bodies desired sleep but unanimously agreed to savor the moment in silence while waiting for the sun to fully rise. 

With the first signs of light, Eren started to open communication. "I haven't thought about… children but if you want them, I won't mind having them." He was surprised how much an image of Mikasa heavy with his child appeals to him. He's sure she would be a good mother. 

But then Eren remembered one of his common threads with Mikasa, something he'd rather not think about. "I'll get the best doctors to examine you. If the doctor says it's dangerous, we'll adopt." This is non-negotiable for Eren. 

Mikasa nodded agreeing with Eren's sentiment. 

"You're young…" She knows that he hates being reminded of their age gap but if they are going to do this, they need to be honest with each other. "And if someday you ever find someone, I want you to let me know and be completely honest with me. I won't stand in your way." 

"How generous of you." His eyes have a spark of irritation in them but he kept his tone light and easygoing. "Would you be taking a lover of your own? Perhaps that knight?" 

Mikasa thought about her answer before ultimately deciding to shake her head. A woman getting a lover is not acceptable as it is for men; although the inequality displeases Mikasa, she needed to remind herself that there is always power in acceptance. 

Eren pulled her closer to kiss her bare shoulders before warning her. "If you ever get a paramour, I would tear him limb from limb and burn him alive right in front of you." 

Mikasa felt melancholic about Eren not being her little brother anymore. 

A part of her feels glad that it's him but is also grieving that he won't be her safe place anymore. Mikasa would be his wife which filled her with even greater anxiety because even though she doesn't think Eren would ever hurt her, he now could. Now more than ever before. 

Mikasa suddenly feels vulnerable. She'll be giving herself away to someone to be owned and broken in. She'll be someone's wife. Eren's strong negative reaction to the thought of her having a lover on the side reminded her of that. 

"We'll have none of that." and that is the only way to be. 

Mikasa's eyes widened at his declaration. 

"I can't promise no changes but at our cores, we'll be as we are… only closer." Eren kisses Mikasa's lips as if to demonstrate what he meant. 

Breaking the kiss to continue, "It would be just the two of us." he murmured inches away from her lips. 

He pauses trying to find the right words to convey his vows to her. "Now and Forever." and even then, even a little longer than that… Because to Eren, what they have is sacred.

Mikasa's heart grew sizes with his answer but her conscientious nature won't allow her to take rest until she's sure that he understands. "Eren, I just want to let you know that you already helped me a lot by–" Thanking Eren for bedding her felt wrong so she couldn't finish her sentence. 

That amused him and felt this urge to tease her but decided against it seeing how worked up she was thinking she was ruining him. 

"You don't need to marry me… you have other options and a whole life ahead of you–" 

Mikasa worries too much and even that part of her appeals to Eren but he's so close to just fucking her silly again to shut her up. "No one else would ever make me feel this way." he cuts her off. 

They held each other tighter but didn't say anything. Both of them used the silence to process the feelings that were out in the open. 

"Since when?" Mikasa's voice is somewhat raspy, she doesn't know how to process his revelation. 

"Who knows..." more than their lack of clothes, they are now bare of any pretenses. "I don't even know where it ends." 

Eren is laid on his back and maneuvers Mikasa to her side to pull her closer. 

Mikasa searched her heart for any hint of regret and she couldn't find any; that's just not her. With that alone, her answer is obvious. If she was being honest with herself, she felt the same way but seeing the deep scar on his chest reminded her of something important that he needs to hear out loud. 

His jaw tightened when he saw her eyes on his mangled chest. 

She looked at him, her eyes asking for his permission. 

Even though Eren felt a slight old rush of panic, he took Mikasa's hand and pressed her palm at the crack of his soul because every piece of him belongs to her. 

After his initial discomfort passed, she held his gaze for it is gospel, "You are important. You are enough. You are loved." 

Mikasa removed her hand before closing her eyes, bending down to tenderly kiss his scarred chest because she knew all too well that time doesn't heal all wounds. 

A tear fell down his face without any warning. He was sure that this moment would be the last image he'll see when he dies. 

They locked lips the moment she raised her head. The way Eren kisses Mikasa wasn't any less passionate than he was the night before but he was more gentle with her. 

They were unable to open their eyes afterward and pressed their foreheads together while they catch their breaths.  

With their eyes still closed, he smiled when she gives him small kisses on the lips; Eren held her nape to stop her from pulling away and they devoured each other. 

They both knew where this is going. Anticipation building up as evidenced by the hard hot rod poking on Mikasa's thigh. 

No further words were needed when they made love once again. 

They are laying on their sides, facing each other. They are entangled in each other's arms. 

He slid a leg to spread her and she reciprocated his initiative by adjusting her hips and wrapping a leg around him. 

Mikasa's lower mouth had a warm welcome as Eren buried himself inside her where it made its home. 

There is still this slight ache in between her legs but it's mostly in the background now with how in touch she has become with the pleasure that comes with the pain. 

She kissed his neck as an encouragement for him to dive deeper into her. 

He's caressing her back with the arm where her head is resting. His other hand is free to touch and maneuver her plump backside that was emphasized by her narrow waist.  

"Eren!" she tensed and her body quivered uncontrollably with how hard she came. 

Seeing her fall apart in daylight without warning triggered his release. 

Languid kisses are exchanged between them afterward. 

It pains Eren to pull away from her but he needs to clean her. He is up, putting his clothes back on. 

Mikasa stirred with the source of her heat gone.

"I'll just have the maids arrange a bath and food for us." Her eyes are half open, his words not fully registering. 

"Wait for me in bed, I won't be long." Mikasa nodded and she closed her eyes again, instantly falling back to sleep. 

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. 

Eren was staring at her as he draw the curtains on her canopy bed because he didn't want anyone else to see her in this state. 

He found Levi standing in the hallway, staring at him when he got out of Mikasa's room. It wasn't unheard of, considering how close they are but today is different because something did happen between them. 

"We had a deal." Eren started, tired of the older man's silence, his gaze unwavering. 

Eren was right of course but Levi expected better. What 'better' means, he also doesn't know. "You were too impatient." He sighed. 

Deep down, Levi has always known. So when Eren wrote a letter, asking him to fulfill his end of the deal; he had an inkling that this is where he'll find the brunette.  

No. Levi was sure of it. 

He knew that there is no point getting angry as it was only a matter of time but what kind of older brother would be alright with a man defiling their little sister? 

Eren didn't comment on his remark. All that matters to him is that Mikasa is finally his. 

[itshermocrates]

A knight of the woods (skfs)

[Sfw, Fantasy Au Skfs + original pics]

Sukuna was an honorable knight once.

A knight kings from all kingdoms prided themselves on having among their lines, fightingt in their army. He was strong and fierce, capable of winning any battle, no matter how impossible it had seemed at first.

Under his command any man would fight until his very last breath, win against their enemies even as they slowly faded, bleeding out and getting closer to their death thanks to a mortal wound. There were no men like him anymore. Or that was what most lords and kings had said, praising his abilities and his service to their lands.

But all the blood staining his hands came with a price, with the curse of all the dead bodies he had torn apart, hunting the so admired knight every time he closed his eyes. But, what was more obvious, was this unstoppable anger that managed to take control of him from time to time, a fury he couldn't repress, adding new sins he wouldn't even dare to say at loud to the endless list he already had.

Sins that made him want to beg for forgiveness at the feet of every God he could name, even when he was fully aware of how some sins could never be forgiven. Those sins were the reason behind his punishment, what had managed to turn him into an exile, banished from every known land and every town his horse could ever take him to.

But after months travelling, he was tired. His bones were sore after so many nights resting with just the sky above his head; his armour was now covered in dirt, almost unrecognizable without its usual shine.

Sukuna felt the sweat dampening his hair after another long day on the road, his scars itched uncomfortably under the sun of an incoming warm spring, and the different layers of dirty cloths. This would be the first spring he would spend far from the finest tournaments the lords liked to celebrate when the winter came to an end. The first without basking himself in the cheering of the common people and the praise of the nobility. The first in a really long time, without enjoying the company of the most beautiful ladies of the land.

He needed a drink. He needed to forget what he had lost, but there was no tavern he could enter to, and no wine that could satiate his thirst.

After a while, the Sun seemed to get shy, it rays barely caressing his skin anymore, as he saw himself surrounded by trees. Before him he could only see the forest.

Just this dense layer of green matter. Forest and forest, and more trees, and grass, and bushes, and just every possible thing shining in that fucking green shade.

He had been on the countryside not much before, and suddenly, there was no clearing to be seen. Why was everything so fucking green?

He felt intimidated for an instant.

But if he listened carefully, he could hear the familiar whisper only water could create as it flowed, apparently not so far from him.

A river, he supposed.

Well, he could defenitely wash himself and rub all the shame off his skin, maybe even drink some fresh water. He was, most likely, lost, but he didn’t seemed to be completely doomed. 

Sighing, he got off his horse and guided the beast towards the sound, as they both walked through the bushes, hoping to find the river before the sun started to fall behind the mountains.

There was still plenty of light, so he could see the ground he was stepping on, but the forest and its nature made him feel like he was surrounded by some powerful force, some sort of energy, like he was getting himself inside of a lion’s den. The sun was still high in the sky, but thanks to all the vegetation, there was not enough light for him to feel at ease.

And Sukuna had never believed in those tales some soldiers liked to whisper around the campfire, stories about spirits and creatures people assured they had seen. Beings living in the woods, mysterious areas just like the one he was exploring.

But now, completely alone and surrounded by that beautiful wildness, Sukuna started to wonder. Maybe he wasn't truly alone in that forest. Maybe there were creatures hiding in the woods, waiting for the perfect moment to attack careless humans like him.

Sukuna couldn't help but look carefully at every direction, searching for something, anything that could be an enemy and offer some reason to his paranoia, something that could explain why his instints felt so on edge. Any figure of an imminent danger would be more comforting than this utter loneliness.

A he approached the river, he felt those waters, dark and mysterious, tempting him with its coolness. Almost like it could call him.

He kneeled before the flow, letting the metal pieces of his armour crackle against the ground as he got them off, slipping off his gauntlets and even some of the arm pieces that bothered him a little too much. Then he leaned over the surface to wash his hands and get the first mouthful of fresh water.

Groaning in delight after so much time without a drink that wasn't as hot as his own urine or much closer to mud than to an actual liquid, he felt like he was taking a sip of the gods’ sweet nectar. He was so enticed by the waters, by the easiness it brought to his sore neck and shoulders; he didn't notice the strange presence lurking in the river.

A pale figure emerging from the deepest part of the stream, looking curiously at the knight, still with his features half hidden by the flow. His skin was bright like the moonlight, and his face was framed by long strands of dark hair, it was just as black as the river's own wonders, and it was adhered to his features like moss attached itself to a rock’s surface.

When Sukuna raised his gaze, when his eyes fell over the creature's face, it wasn't his deadly coldness or the contrast between his skin and the liquid darknes enveloping him what amazed him; but those deep green eyes. Just as green as everything around them was, and yet, so incredibly unique.

Sukuna was paralyzed. He couldn't move a single muscle, too mesmerized by this extraordinary being. Not even when the creature, so similar to a young man, raised himself over the waters, only covered by a thin layer of white cloth, dampened and pressed against his body like a second skin.

His figure, every curve and soft mound, was presented to Sukuna like a gift from the Gods themselves. Such a beautiful creature, covered by intricate jewellery crafted with gems as green as his own eyes... He felt unworthy of his presence. And there was an aura around him, an energy of some kind that made it crystal clear, that announced he was not a human.

He was above them all. He was the river, but he was also the forest. He looked soft and delicate, but also sharp and dangerous. He was a force of nature, crude power contained in a tangible, exquisite body. And he didn't even have to lift a finger to prove it.

Sukuna already knew what he had encountered.

The same way he knew he had found his new master.

~The end~

[Reposted from my Twtt]

[bokettochild]

I Am My Master's Sword

So... I ended up having feelings about Fi. Mostly because of a a post that was shared before my Tumblr break about her. Like, we talk about how Fi might have felt when Wind pulled her, and I know- I know! I talk about him a lot but-

Legend.

Legend was a kid, maybe even younger than Time was, when he pulled the sword. And unlike in the other timelines where Fi's decision hurt the hero, in this one, he died!

Fi is dedicated to, and assigned, one task; to help her master protect the world. So how would it effect her to fail in that task and let her master die? Only to be given another one, just as young and small and weak, to try and guide?

Anyways, I caught Fi feels and wrote her a little thing. It is TTTB compliant, but you don't have to read that 30+ Chapter mess to read this.

Hope y'all enjoy!

Perhaps it was not the goddess’s will, but Fi had favorites.

Logically, a sword should not have any attachment to her many masters, she should have been cold and loyal to all of them, granting them her power and aid until they returned her to her rest, and then waited for the next one to come and draw her blade.

But even so, there were a few of her masters that she had an especial fondness, for, even despite her attempts to remove her own feelings from the equation.

Master. Matdas. Link. The Hero of the Surface and the Sky. Chosen Hero of Hylia herself, her dearest and closest friend, easily stood at the top of her list of favorite heroes. He was the one to forge her to her fullest power and stand by her side. Certainly, he was an eternally exhausted and somewhat easily distracted young man, but in her lengthy experience, it seemed that was simply Her Grace’s preference for heroes. The point was that her first Master was her favorite, and dearest of friends, and despite his flaws; his tardiness and inability to focus for long periods, his utter cluelessness when conversing with other individuals, and his (honestly endearing) love of danger; she adored him.

They could not remain together forever though. She may be her Master’s sword, but a knight only requires the use of his blade as long as he is in battle, and with Demise defeated, there was no need for her power to be continuously used. It was with great sadness that Master had laid her to rest, and had Fi ad a heart, she had little doubt that she would have shed many a tear at their parting.

She lay at rest for many years.

The hero after her Master had no need of her power, forging his own blade like his ancestor before him and defeating evil without her aid.

It was the hero that followed after that that weighed heavy on her mind.

The young Hero of Time was both her greatest regret and her greatest sorrow. A mere child, one too young for her voice to be of any aid to him, her calculations and estimates nothing in comparison to the orb of blue light -a fairy she had determined- that filled the air with chatter and guided the boy along. Had she had her way here, he too would have gone on without having to wield her power. Such a choice was not in her metaphorical hands however, and when small fingers had clasped her hilt the possibilities of the future had overwhelmed her.

In another world, the sleep she sent him into saved him. In another world, her strength was enough. In another time, the hero survived and moved on with his life. In another world he grew up and was married and was happy. The echoes of that world resounded within her, but they were not the life that she saw in this time. No. In this time, her blade clattered to the ground amid the churned-up dirt and seeping blood as a boy too young had released his last breaths in an agonizing scream.

The princess defeated the monster that was Ganon, sealing him away. The princess took her blade in her hands and carried it far away from the castle, hiding it in a grove with a bitter curse on her lips for the blade's failure to protect its master.

Still stained in blood and dirt, Fi took the admonition of Her Grace’s incarnate, fully aware of her own failure in the gristly matter.

She sat alone in that grove for centuries.

Trees rose and fell and hand after hand tugged at her blade, curious but unworthy to remove her. Children had played at her base, uninjured by her dull blade as stories were shared about where the youngsters thought the broken and neglected blade had come from.

“A princess put it there.” A pink haired child had told his playmates. “I saw her in a dream once.”

“A princess?”

“Sure, Link, an’ my Gran’s a duchess!”

The other children had laughed and teased, eventually tiring of their play and wending back to where their parent’s and families gathered on the edge of the grove, half-way through a journey, no doubt to a festival or event in castle town.

Fi had watched with a stiff little smile. They were precious beings, Her Grace’s children, she could understand why Master and the Spirit Maiden had been so dedicated to protecting these people if such small beings were possible. She enjoyed watching them, as much as a sword spirit could, perched, invisible to the mortal gaze, on the hilt of her blade, watching games of tag and hide and go seek with dull eyes.

None of them should have been able to see her.

Purple eyes met hers regardless, shining and curious, and so painfully innocent.

Had the spirit had a heart, it would have sunk in her chest at the smile and shy wave cast her way.

“By Miss Blue Lady.” The boy had whispered, darting off with his playmates back to their caravan.

And just like that, she’d known that evil would again rise soon.

None but a Hero of Hylia ought to have been able to see her.

She dreaded the day that the hands of the pink haired boy would wrap around her blade. Would he be a child still, like the last one? Would he have aged at least as much as her beloved Master? Still young, but old enough to at least bare the weight of her blade without stumbling? Would Her Grace be able to hold strong long enough that her Chosen Ones would be allowed to age enough to bare their heavy burden?

Her soul wavered when the blade was pulled at last, and had she been capable, she would have cried tears of sorrow when she saw her new Master.

He was still so small...

She was far too big for him, just as the hero before him, but the very thought of sending him off, putting him to sleep like she had the last one..... The Hero of Time’s soul would have stirred and roamed free to find and shatter her should she do so, she had little doubt. And she would wish it. Never again, never again would she trap a mind in a body too old, nor would she so illy prepare her master as she had her last.

In another time, another world, a place covered with waves as far as the eyes could see, her choice was the same, and when a small boy, only twelve or so years of age had come, she had breathed her blessing on him even as a soul foreign to the Hero’s Destiny had pulled her free. In that world, her Master had not fallen, but the world had been corrupted in the wake of their victory, and it was left without a guardian to save it from the evils of the world.

But in this world, she had held herself aloof from the young one in her care, careful to not impress on him the destiny he neither chose not embraced. Duty pushed this child, orders of one above him and the glimmer of hope that whatever sorrow burdened his young heart might be relieved. There was little she could say or do to him regardless, after all, she was not meant to be locked into stone, away from Her Grace’s power and touch, where her blade could not regain its power and where she grew weak and damaged.

There was little she could do to aid the little hero, her Young Master, but Hylia’s wisdom touched the young one’s mind and he, rather than forsaking her for a better blade, took especial care to clean and care for her blade, gathering supplies and taking her to a smithy who strengthened and brightened her blade, and who’s hands guided her Young Master to mend her ailments and restore her to power.

Again, under caring fingers and a soulful gaze, she was restored to her true strength, and when little fingers had set to work, etching away a name in her steel, she’d never done a thing to stop them. He had never seen, but she had smiled at the little one as he looked down at his work with a firm nod.

His smile was so much like Master’s own, it made her spirit sing.

Her new master, her little master, the youngest she had known yet (in this time and in this world) was a good one. He tended her blade with all the care due by a young smithy, and even after he had replaced her to her resting place, his enemy defeated and his world saved, he’d taken care to visit and tend to her blade.

While he worked, he’d sing.

Sometimes the Ballad of the Goddess that he hummed, sometimes an old song she didn’t know. Sometimes he’d chatter, telling her about his day and how the world was. About the apple orchard beside his house and how it prospered, about the princess that was his sister, and about the things they’d seen on their journey.

Unlike before, violet eyes did not rest on her when she perched on the sword’s hilt, attentive and silent, but that did not stop her from watching him as he attended to her blade and the stone it was set in, as he cared for the ground and the area around it with all the worry and knowledge of a budding gardener.

But then he had stopped coming, and only the princess had come to her once and again, until Farore’s Oracle herself came, taking her blade in hand and whisking them away to a faraway country where her little hero, a bit older and a bit more experienced, waiting to take her on another adventure.

He had had help this time, there were friends and a mentor at his back as he fought the corrupted Golden Goddess that had been Nayru, but now acted only as a puppet to the evil Veran. There was no small amount of pride in the spirit’s soul as she watched him lead an army to destroy Ganon once more, to defeat Koume and Kotake and destroy the Tower of Evil that Veran had caused to be built.

Adventure after adventure, she had watched her little hero grow in skill and body. But with each task, each fateful quest, she had seen light leave violet eyes until they were hard and cold as stone. Eyes that lacked the purity and innocence to see her when at last her strength had fully returned. He no longer spoke to her, even as his hands worked dutifully over her blade. Only a set jaw and harsh stare met her gaze when she tried to catch his eye again, and again the spirit’s lack of a heart to break was felt as she watched bitterness and anger take over the boy as he cast aside any faith he may have once held for the Oracles and Her Grace Hylia.

Like a mother whose child has gone astray, she mourned, watching as task after task had consumed the innocent child and fueled the anger of the troubled teenager.

Sword spirits were not meant to have feelings, or to love and grow fond, and perhaps this was why. Because any Hero who must wield his blade for too long will change and grow callus and bitter towards those he loves, and she would have to watch the life fade from them as anger took hold. Hylia had attempted to grant her peace, to save her from the curse that was feeling, but she had pushed just enough to taste it, and now it was hers and a curse that weighed heavily on her as she was carried to and fro on quest after quest after quest.

Fi should not have known all of this, should not have known the heroes that she would meet in the future. Her memories should not have swum to her as nine heroes gathered, each baring his own blade as once more her Master had drawn her from her place to join with his fellow heroes to fight an evil that danced through time with no regard for its sacred pattern and the delicate lines cast between worlds. By all calculations, she ought not be able to know each in all of their individual splendor and lack thereof. She should not have known that the last of their number was once the youngest to wield her blade, or that in his time her strength was nothing to the world it was needed to save.

She shouldn’t have known that the boy’s father was a knight who’s power had been corrupted with her strength, a man brought near to ruin in her desperate attempt to right the wrongs she had done to those before him. Her strength was returned in his time, and it had nearly saddled her with the weight of another hero’s death.

She shouldn’t have known the beast that tamed himself with her power, the wolf that stirred inside the heart of a Hylian who had drawn her strength to himself in a time of shadows and twisted evils that spread far beyond the corrupted worlds and into Her Grace’s blessed land itself.

And there was her Master, and the child hero who she had killed and saved and ruined and lost all at once, alive from the time he had moved on from when he had left her yet returned her, his life tangled in the web of time and leaving holes and breaks across its surface. There too was her young master, angry and bitter and harsh, and two heroes whose fingers had never borne her strength; a hero whose power had forged his own blade and another who’d yet to find her in his desolate world.

Could a sword spirit sing in more than battle, she would have cried her thanks to the goddesses for a chance to see all of her masters, both claimed and not, gathered. Something stirred in her, although what it was was anyone’s guess, and no calculations and algorithms could determine its source, but Fi would smile as she danced in battle on her Master’s fingertips, protecting those that she had failed and who had been called too young, with the aid of one who she had grown and learned with.

It was her honor to aid them, to travel at their backs and to protect them from the darkness that followed and attacked them. To cleanse evil from their forms and return them too how they ought to have been. But her joy came when at last she could see her heroes connect.

A battle gone wrong, a misstep from one of the heroes and Master had been gravely injured, left unable to carry her and leaving her to be held and wielded by another until he was healed. There was arguing for who had a right, for who had a cause and who would wield her best, but at last she was landing in familiar hands, ones that fingered the etching on her hilt with a knowing and bitter look, but who treated her kindly as he pulled her baldric and sheath over his thin shoulders and followed along behind.

She should have kept silent, she ought to have. She had not spoken to any but the first and the last of her many masters, but she was unable to prevent it when she heard the thoughts of her Young Master.

It’s not like Sky’s actually just my Great-grandfather or something like that, he’s just... I just... I don’t want him to scold me is all. The royal family doesn’t last that long, Hyrule is wrong.

Since watching Master re-unite with the Spirit Maiden, she had not known such curiosity and -maybe it was joy- at hearing the thoughts of one of the heroes that had wielded her.

“So, you are Master’s offspring?”

Despite how the young hero -one of her favorites and the dearest to her soul, beside his ancestor in what might pass as her heart- might complain, she knew he found comfort in hearing her voice. It brought something to stir within her as well.

After centuries of silence, yet from master’s time no time at all, she was freed from silence and able, again, to converse with one of those to which she had been bound for eternity, and through him, Master.

Sword Spirit’s weren’t supposed to have favorites. But the pink-haired child that bore the Gift of Hearing and Understanding, be it animal, plant or spirit voices that he spoke to, was the connection to herself and her Master, a Link, if she might dare jest, to both her past and future, and to the heroes who she had been promised to protect. He stood beside the Chosen Hero in her memory, a favorite. And she too must have been dear to him, why else would he take such care to keep his mark on her hilt, a poorly scrawled name, only four letters, but ones that meant everything.

L-I-N-K.

The mark of ownership. A claim. A promise, and one that she would also keep and honor in kind.

She was her Master’s Sword, but she was also the blade of his descendent, and if pride could be felt by the Goddess’s blade, then Fi would have been bursting with it.

[umiarumi]

fucking three houses | prologue/claude von riegan

afab she/her reader, originally posted on my ao3, myukyu <3

Twirling my sword, an excited grin fell upon my face as I jogged alongside Dorte and Marianne. "Hah! Marie, ya think I can keep up your old steed's pace?" I asked excitedly, huffing slightly. The academy had really buffed your stamina, shit, enough to keep up with a damn horse.

"Oh, (Y/N)! I-um, don't strain yourself since we have nearly reached the monastery." She hesitantly called out, brow furrowing. I laughed it off, nodding as I slowed my pace to meet Raphael jogging, carrying a very unamused Lysithea.

"What's up, you two?" I asked, grinning. The behemoth of a man beamed back, motioning his head to the pouting smaller girl in his arms.

"Lysithea here was starting to struggle, so as a good big bro- I mean, uh, friend! As a good friend, I'm helping keep up!" He cheered, laughing.

"I'll remind you, you thoughtless fool, I am not a child! I am quite the opposite, now." Lysithea barked out at Raphael, folding her arms.

I chuckled, shaking my head. I missed these guys, and once we make it to the monastery... well, teach better have kept his promise and not died on us. ~~~~ ~~~~ PROLOGUE END ~~~~ ~~~~ "Ahh... now this one is gonna fill the spot, thanks, prof!" You cheered, excitedly flicking your eyes between your delicious meal of Beast Meat and your slightly concerned professor.

"That smell... it's amazing! My fav, in fact. Do you like it too?" Claude nodded with you, looking to Byleth out of curiousity. Easygoing, huh?

"I like it."

Usually, you'd laugh at your teacher's blunt speech, yet that meat was begging you to devour it and hey- who are you to deny its wishes? Being back at the monastery with your class and teacher as much as you'd loved being back in your home country, you had a soft spot for the Golden Deer. But five years had changed the lot of you, various glowups being noticed, by the way. Yet, Claude caught your attention the most. Which, being honest, wasn't out of the norm, hell, for anyone!

As you tore through your meat, you caught your former classmate stifling a chuckle at your pure ferocity.

"Oi! Got thomething to thay," You quickly swallowed. "What's so funny!?" You annoyedly accused, slamming a hand on the table. He let out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Easy tiger! You just looked awfully cute with your cheeks stuffed."

You felt your cheeks darken, clicking your tongue as you went back to your meal. "Smooth, dickhead..." You mumbled as your teacher let out a sigh at the two of youse antics. As you all continue to eat, a comfortable silence fell upon your trio.

"That aside, I am glad to see you also returning. I heard from Lorenz that you had disappeared for a while." Your teacher finally spoke, looking to you. Your eyebrows rose in surprise as you let a crooked grin creep up your face.

"Funny you say that. How about yourself, five years asleep! Did any lucky gal or guy come to give you that awakening kiss~" You cooed, switching the topic onto him. You had no idea what you could say without getting yourself and Claude in an unknown amount of trouble.

He raised a brow at your dodging of the question but ultimately let it go. "I did not get kissed, no."

Claude piped up from his suspicious silence, leaning in to pester teach. "Ya sure? You were pretty popular back at the academy!" You snickered after this comment, nodding to egg him on.

"I believe we've finished the meal. I shall see the two of you later." He promptly stood up with his plate and cutlery, returning them to the kitchen before strutting off in his usual stern demeanour.

"Aw, we scared him off!" You jokingly whined, leaning onto Claude. Teasing your no-nonsense teacher was great since he's as clueless as Seteth with three times the patience.

"How will we ever apologise?" Claude moaned alongside you, resting his head on yours melodramatically. You tittered together before recovering and bringing your dirty dishes to the kitchen. Leaving the dining hall, you two walked in silence.

You walked with no aim for a while until Claude stopped. You turned to him, intrigued. Tilting your head, you asked him a question.

"Something up?"

He smiled softly, shaking his head.

"Nah, but I would like to ask you some things." He said, and the lack of a comedic tone set off a minor alarm in your brain. You were no stranger to his inquisitive nature, having known him for a good portion of your life. Yet, you had a feeling this related to before. Even Claude wasn't aware of your whereabouts.

"Sure thing, here?" You asked, folding your arms defensively.

"No... let's go somewhere more private." He said, walking off. You jumped, quickly following him.

~~~~

Following Claude up the spiralling stairs of the Goddess tower was quick, that you could confirm. Nearly stumbling over your steps as he transcended so damn fast, you couldn't even call out for him to slow the hell down.

As you finally made it to the top, avoiding the rubble which had gathered after the battle at the monastery, you had leant against the wall, quickly regaining your breath. Yet as soon as you blinked, Claude seemed to have moved from the centre of the room to a few inches away from your face.

"C-Claude! What the hell...?" You jumped, backing fully up against the cold, stone wall. Feeling the cool stones against your back, you shivered as your former leader stared at you.

"Answer teach's question for me, friend? Where were you while we were stopping the whole damn alliance from being chipped away by the Empire?" He asked, frustrated. He took a step towards you.

You gulped, shaking your head as your eyes darted around the tower, looking everywhere but him.

"That's not the answer I was looking for, (Y/N)."

Your breath hitched as he grabbed your chin to look you in the eyes. His voice lowered, a conflicted emotion on his face. A crooked grin tugged at his lips and yet his brows were furrowed, annoyed.

||Translation: فاک - Fuck||

"I-I was in Almyra!" You yelped, quickly realising what you said as you cursed under your breath, "فاک..." You hissed, embarrassed.

"First, you avoid our questions..." Claude listed, cruelly running his thumb across your lip. Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes finally set on his figure.

"Second, you leave us... breaking our promise," He continued, striking your heart where it hurts.

You bit your lip, eyeing him as he let his hand drop to your shoulder. He pushed you further against the wall. You shivered, yet not from the freezing stone this time.

"I-I... even you said you had no attachment to Fodlan! I thought you wouldn't..." You trailed off, searching for an excuse.

"Everyone thought you died! I thought you died! And yet..." His voice rose, yet less out of anger. He finally brought his face to your extremely red own.

"Where was I? Oh yeah, finally..." You stiffened, knowing what he was going to bring up.

"Leaving me hanging."

Before you all reunited, you had made a short trip into Fodlan to grasp the situation. Yet, your undercover mission soon became an open one as a fateful night in Derdriu occurred.

~~~~

It was a warm evening the night you had made it into the lively streets of the city. Even after the effects of war, the city still seemed to bustle. Unassumedly passing by citizens happily talking, you looked for any Knights of Seiros stationed nearby or even members of the Leicester military. Noticing a particular armoured woman, you tapped her shoulder.

She turned, giving you a pleasant smile. "Do you need anything, ma'am?"

You nodded, playing with the sides of your bodice. "I live a while from the military posts, so could you please tell me... um, how is the war going?" Embarrassed, she laughed softly before explaining.

However, you were unaware of a keen eye watching you. The familiar bobbing of unruly hair, gleaning of sun-kissed skin tied in with a confident stance clued Claude onto just who it was he saw. He waited patiently behind market stalls, keeping an eye on you as you bid the woman goodbye. And oh-so luckily for him, you headed his way.

You passed by him, oblivious to the archer's presence. A sudden hand on your shoulder caused you to jolt, your hand reaching to the hilt of your sword. Whipping around, your eyes soon met the green ones of a certain Alliance leader.

"C-Claude!?" You shrieked, hand still cautiously resting on your sword, unsure if he would take well to your sudden appearance.

"So you decided to show up, huh?" He remarked, and if you knew him any less you'd think that easygoing smile meant he was happy. But that smile never reached his eyes.

Yet, despite his obvious inner conflict, you expelled a breath as he pulled you into a hug. You soon wrapped your arms around him. It had been four years since you left after Edelgard and her forces attacked. You felt his grip loosen as he rose a hand to your chin, that oh-so teasing thumb brushing against your lip.

"May I?" He muttered, and in response, you leant into him, lips locking. What started innocently quickly grew messy and needy, your lips growing red.

As you pulled back, you felt the hard pressure as your fronts brushed together. You blushed before turning your head away.

"I'm sorry Claude, I have to go." You muttered solemnly, pulling yourself together.

"Wait, what? Showing up randomly after four years and then blue-balling me?" He teased yet yearningly reached out his hand.

"I promise, I will return and finish what I started!" You called out, running off into the night.

~~~~

Your face grew hot at the memory. Shuffling nervously, you looked into his eyes.

"Then, will you finish what we started, miss?" He asked, running a hand across your face.

Inhaling, you nodded and answered him. "Yes... please."

With your consent, he pushed himself against you, lips squishing as he brought you upon his own. He soon ran his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for permission.

You parted them quickly, his tongue invading your mouth as your tongue danced with his. He began to unclasp your armour as you shifted to help them come off easier.

Before you knew it, you had both shed to your undergarments, all knowledge of this being an open area quickly leaving your mind.

His hands reached behind your back to fiddle with your bra for a few moments, soon letting it fall to the cold, stone ground. His eyes fell to your breasts, your nipples perk from a mix of the cold air in the Goddess Tower and the heat of the situation.

Quickly, his hands began to fondle and grope your tits, your hand slapping on your mouth as to not alert any patrolling guards.

"These really are great. Your armour disguises you, a good thing that is since you'd probably take a few hits otherwise." He commented cheekily, observing your tightly shut eyes and fluttering breaths.

God, he'd tease you even now!?

One of the hands dropped from your breast, the other continuing to squeeze and roll it like wet clay. The forgotten breast soon regained heat as the scruffy head of the brunette quickly moved to suckle on your aching nipple, causing you to let out a quick yelp.

"How cute." He mumbled into your tit, the vibrations sending a delicious shiver up your spine. Whilst you were focused on the pleasure at your chest, your throbbing cunt soon found a welcoming hand cupping it through your underwear.

"Soaked! Were you wanting this all along? Hah! Pretty slutty for an Almyran warrior." He cooed, fingers running against your clothed slit.

"A-ah... fuck you!" You hissed, deciding on paying back the offer. Your free hand reached down to cup his hidden boner, hand rubbing slowly.

"Ffffuck... fine, you want to do it right here, against this wall sweetheart?" He asked, grinning.

You nodded brashly, slipping out of your drenched underwear. He too shed his remaining clothes and your lips locked in a short kiss before he pulled away.

Grabbing onto your thighs, he lifted you as you hooked your legs around him. Pushing you against the wall, he angled his dick at your pussy. Rubbing slowly, teasingly. The two of you groaned, as finally, he stuck his dick in your needy cunt.

You gasped, feeling it stretch you out, slowly, inch by inch. Bottoming out, the two of you stilled for a moment, catching your breaths. Once you adjusted, signalling him with a nod, he pulled out to the tip, before slamming back in. You moaned unabashedly, eyes fluttering open to see Claude's face scrunch up.

He looked up to you coyly, smirking. "Do you want all of the monastery to find us? Would you like them to see you like this?" Your breath hitched.

"Sweating, being fucked against a wall by your former leader? After five long years, you decide to help." He hissed, continuing to thrust as you gasped with each thrust.

The fulfilling feeling of Claude's dick rubbing against your inner walls gradually inched you to your orgasm, the added brushing of fronts stimulating your clit.

"I could get used to this, you'll really help the war efforts this way. Those poor, exhausted knights who you could've helped. A nice cocksleeve like you, you'll do more by getting fucked than you have the past years." He grunted, venting his frustrations.

Yet, despite all the guilt you should've felt, it only made the aching buzz of your clit all the more stronger.

Your cunt spasmed with each thrust, the routine rubbing and brushing working you towards your end as you felt Claude's dick shudder every time he bottomed out.

"Maybe you could motivate Ignatz? He'd be shy though, but a girl so open like you would be perfect for that." He mumbled, watching your face darken.

"Or Raphael? He could use you as training. You'd be spent by the time he was even finishing, yet a slut like you would be okay with that, right?"

His dick continued to twitch in your pussy, your walls clamping around his cock like a vice. Fluttering as you were so close to your end.

"Shit... even Lorenz... he could use you as practice for his- ngh, noble duties!" He choked out a laugh, breath stuttering.

"But I think I like you best as my little runaway slut, yeah? You fit so well on my cock!" He emphasised the last word with a sharp thrust, your walls clamping shut on his cock, your head hitting the wall as you moaned in ecstasy.

He quickly pulled out, dick spurting ropes of cum on your chest and stomach. As you both caught your breath, you caught Claude smiling at you.

"It's good to have you back, my friend."

[o-wyrmlight]

All right, let me see... keep in mind that this is specifically for Crumbled Castles Madeleine. AKA 'A side-plot in a comic I've only barely started and have been putting way too much thought into'.

Madeleine comes from the Republic. This is a fact that one cannot object to. However, his dream isn't to be a knight--it's to be a fisherman, because he just strikes me as a cookie who loves the sea and takes great interest in what lies under the ocean.

He actually was a fisherman at one point--he had his own boat that he took out to sea, and when he was a fisherman, he had his hair cut short! It was only when he decided to become a knight that he really let it grow out.

Madeleine and Espresso have been childhood friends since they were--literally--children. Espresso's sharp-tongued demeanor slides off of Madeleine like water over plastic, and Madeleine balances it out by pushing him to take better care of himself and pause in working every now and again.

Espresso will never, ever say it to Madeleine's face, but he is somewhat fond of Madeleine's company.

Madeleine's boat isn't the one that got lost in the storm that left him stranded. He made the executive decision to help out some short-handed crab fishers, which would have been an interesting and fresh experience--he usually fished for tuna and clams.

As far as he knows, Madeleine is the only survivor. And as far as he knows, he's the only cookie outside the army and well-off officials who knows the (as-of-yet undetermined) 'secret' that the Republic keeps hidden from its people.

The first thing he did when he made his way back to the Republic four or five months later was go to Espresso's house. Espresso, of course, was shocked to see him and very quickly noticed that something about him changed. Even though Madeleine made a very good effort to play it off.

Madeleine is a secret-keeper, and he is a fantastic liar. He's also a cookie who is very determined to keep concealed what he wants to be concealed. 'Keep it simple, stupid'.

(TW: Abuse Mention) His tendency to lie actually started when he was a child. He lived in a somewhat abusive household with an abusive father, so he learned from his mother that the best way to keep the waters calm was to lie so that they don't rock the boat. Frankly, that's a horrible thing to teach a child, but go off, I guess.

Madeleine is trans and very comfortable with that fact. It's one of the few things he's actually comfortable about in regards to himself, and he fully acknowledges that he used to be a girl. It's a part of his history and a part of who he is, after all.

The name 'Madeleine' is a carry-over from his childhood through his transition.

Madeleine staged a coup in the Republic and is now very much wanted by Republic officials. They've painted him out to be a villain because Propaganda Exists, but some of the cookies of the Republic are now aware of the fucked up shit that's going on behind the scenes and are working their asses off to kick the government in the face. As a result, Madeleine cannot go home.

Madeleine's not afraid to kill someone.

[ceciliablossoms]

Ooh congrats on 500!!!! For the event may I have dacquoise for Kaeya, Childe, and Zhongli? Thank you!!!!

Aaaaa Thank you guys sm!!! ❤

I'm gonna merge all of these together because there's a lot of crossing over

Requested by: @cattycattitude

Dacquoise: "May I have this dance?"

-------

Tartaglia

Spontaneous dates were nothing new with Tartaglia. He would finish all of his duties for the day, come to find them, and then whisk them away for the evening.

The dates would usually consist of dinner, a walk, maybe some star gazing. There never really was a set plan unless he had time to do so, however often those dates occurred.

He had once more finished early, hunting them down immediately after he had been relieved. He grinned, scooping them off their feet. They let out a cry of surprise, as he took if toward the nearest restaurant with them in his arms. The meal was delicious.

As the night progressed, he looked for more and more things to do so that they could spend more time with one another. The two were on a walk now, lingering around the outskirts of the harbour.

He had set them down but still held their hand as the walked together. They made small chatter with him as they walked. When he let out a chuckle and stopped walking, they turned to spare him a glance.

He had a confident smile and held out his hand, voice smooth as honey "May I have this dance, sweetheart?"

Their face turned red, but nonetheless they grasped his hand. He pulled them close, leading them through the dance, twirling and dipping them, kissing their face with each movement.

"My, aren't you the charmer." They smiled, holding his gaze as he went in for another kiss

"For you? Of course." He chuckled, pulling them gently to his chest.

"Only for me?" They grinned, kissing the hollow of bis throat

"Only for you." He placed his chin atop their head feeling a comfort he only felt around them.

-

Zhongli

It was evening when he returned home, his shift at the funeral parlour coming to an end. The sun was nowhere to be seen by the time he exited the parlour. The walk home was quiet.

When he entered the abode he shared with his partner he closed his eyes, revelling in the sound of their voice filling their home. The song visibly relaxed him and he stood still in the doorway after he had silently closed the door behind him.

The tune they carried was one rather peaceful and he couldn't help but follow their voice into the kitchen. They were finishing up portioning the meal they made for dinner, knowing that he'd be home any minute. He thought the smell was almost as pleasant as their voice.

He placed his hands gently on their hips, alerting them to his presence, "Good evening, dearest."

They smiled, "How long have you been home?"

"I've only just arrived." He placed a kiss to their temple as they continued to hum. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around their waist and swayed back and forth as they finished what they were doing.

They set the bowls of food down on the dining table. Now that their hands were empty, he gently grasped them and spun them around.

"Might I have this dance, my dear?"

They smiled with a nod as he led them in a slow dance. Their humming returned back to the singing they had been doing at the counter. He held them close to his chest, occasionally leaning down to place a kiss on the crown of their head.

They laughed quietly when they finished their song, "We mustn't do this too long. The food will get cold."

He kissed the back of their hand, "Let us eat then."

-

Kaeya

The Angel's Share was relatively empty tonight, but the two still took a seat upstairs, far away from everyone else so there would be no interruption. This was a nightly ritual. They would arrive after the tavern in the evening, order their cocktails, then retreat upstairs where they wouldn't be bothered.

Throughout the night the two would make small banter, talking about anything from how the day had gone to sharing intel to random gossip like middle-aged women. As their conversation went on, they'd sip their drinks and fall into a comfortable silence for a bit. Tonight, however, the familiar green-clad bard was performing.

The music sounded through the tavern, melodic and euphonious. His voice carried clear and it was obvious he was singing a ballad about lovers. Kaeya peered down at him over the railing only for Venti to meet his gaze with a smugness he was all too familiar with.

Kaeya chuckled knowing the bard's tricks and leaned back in his chair momentarily so he could finish off his drink. If the bard wanted wingman then so be it. He swirled the liquid in the glass before downing the last of it and setting it down on the table empty.

Standing from his chair, he offered them his hand, his usual smirk adorning his face, "May I have this dance?"

They grinned, taking his hand. He helped them up from their seated position and place one of his hands on their waist. With a wink, he took the lead.

They lied their head against his shoulder after a while making him chuckle. His voice took on a teasing tone, "Tired already?"

He felt them shake their head, "I love dancing with you. It makes me feel safe"

"Well, what kind of knight would I be if I didn't protect you, hm {Prince/ess}?"

They let out a laugh, "A pretty damned bad one."

"Then it's a good thing that I do my job, wouldn't you say?" As he dipped them the music ceased and silently they shared a kiss

-

Albedo

They sat in his lap, watching work with utmost interest. His hands moved swiftly between vials and his various notes. It was almost difficult to keep up.

He'd been at it for hours now, not slowing down even a little. It was amazing really. His work ethic was unreal. However, the hours he spent working went without a single break.

They stood from one of the comfy couches in the cornee of his lab, slowly making their way over to him. Unsure if their idea would work, the hesitated at first. Finally, they spoke up.

"Albedo?" Their voice was quiet and held a hopeful lilt. He hummed acknowledgement, not looking up from his work. They continued, "Will you dance with me?"

He let out an amused chuckle at their words. Finding a stopping place, he turned to face them. He leaned forward in a slight bow, holding out his hand.

"May I have this dance?"

They smiled and took his hand gently. He twirled them and they let out a small laugh. Despite the lack of music they still basked in the moment.

He led them in a slow waltz, fully aware of the motive behind their actions. The nonexistent music didn't seem to bother him either. He rather seemed to be enjoying himself.

They kissed his cheek, smile still present, "Thank you for this."

"It's no trouble at all." He was flattered that they cared enough to do this.

The break was welcomed even though it wasn't rest. Spending time with them recharged his battery in its own rite, and the break they gave the gears in head would surely help him when he would get back to work later. Secretly, he wondered if they would ask this of him again.

-

Tartaglia Tag List: @cherryyyaereaa @youaskedfurret @nagatorou @shoutosqueen @seiiblue @dai-tsukki-desu

Zhongli Tag List: @fictionalcharactersthatsit @nagatorou @shoutosqueen @seiiblue @dai-tsukki-desu

Kaeya Tag List: @reina-dragoness-aka-rei @fictionalcharactersthatsit @kurokuroshit @cherryyyaereaa @youaskedfurret @nagatorou @shoutosqueen @dai-tsukki-desu

Albedo Tag List: @fictionalcharactersthatsit @cherryyyaereaa @bunniology @youaskedfurret @nagatorou @seiiblue @dai-tsukki-desu

Tag List Application

[stars-falling]

late night at the local convenience store (elriel)

summary: elain, desperate for snacks, visits her local store late at night and bumps into her supposed rival (and he's hot).

prompt: esteemed rival chefs find each other shamefully buying ramen at 3 in the morning AU

word count: 1985

note: welcome to the first july upload! this piece was written for a writing month challenge and i had great fun with it! i'm really excited for the other pieces i'll be posting over the next month. i hope you enjoy them as much as i enjoyed writing them! i'll continue working on other pieces over the month too, so there will be more coming after july (hopefully i can finally finish part 2 of both a storm and a summer's day).

in the meantime, hope you enjoy!

lily (tysm for 760 followers btw! love you all <3)

read here on ao3 // masterlist

*******************************

Archeron’s Kitchen was the most popular restaurant in Velaris. It had the best food, the best drinks, the best atmosphere, and Elain had never been more proud to say that she was the Head Chef. It had taken years of hard work from both her and her two sisters to reach the level they were at now and they only continued to grow. The sisters worked closely together: Nesta (the eldest) directed the finance and other admin, Feyre (the youngest) worked on the design aspects and managed the staff and Elain manned the menus and the actual cooking. They worked well together, with only minor disagreements happening occasionally, and soon they had rocketed to the most well known and sought after restaurant in Velaris.

This was why she was contemplating her life choices as she pulled up to the local convenience store to buy ramen at 3 am. It wasn’t even the nice ramen; it was the crappy 50p packet of ramen that took less than a minute to cook. She often tried to utilise her skills to cook herself the healthiest and tastiest meals but recently she had been working overtime due to another restaurant's rising popularity. The two staff had even formed some sort of rivalry, trash-talking each other in the streets and slandering the other restaurant to their patrons. She found it childish, so Elain didn’t partake, but she did find it mildly amusing. The new restaurant was several streets over and it was the opposite of Archeron’s Kitchen in every way. Where they were warm and cosy, Starfall was sleek and modern. Where they focused on comfort foods, Starfall served new and innovative dishes. People went to the Archeron’s for the food, whereas people went to Starfall for the experience. And where the Archeron’s Kitchen was run by three sisters, Starfall was run by three brothers.

She had never actually met them. She knew their names and what they looked like but in terms of interactions she had only caught a glimpse of two of them once before. They had stood in the main square with Feyre and Nesta arguing about the importance of serving classic food. Her sisters had both come away grumbling about ‘upstart assholes with no sense of tradition’. As far as Elain was aware, the two brothers they had argued with weren’t actually in charge of the menu, making her unsure if they had full authority over the subject, but she didn’t want to start them off again so she refrained from mentioning it.

Elain pulled into an empty parking space and took a moment to lay her head against the headrest and close her eyes. She was tired and hungry. There was no food in the fridge, her bank account was looking quite sorry for itself and she still had more menus to plan and ideas for new dishes to brainstorm. Steeling herself, she hauled herself out of the car and locked it as she walked to the bright light of the store. She pulled the hood of the tattered sweatshirt she wore over her head as a precaution against recognition. With the status of a semi-famous chef, she didn’t want anyone to see her in the somewhat pitiful state she was in. The bell rang as she pushed open the door, signalling her entrance. The bright flickering lights and cool temperature made it feel like she was entering a separate dimension, one that lacked all sense of time and direction. Elain nodded at the cashier as she walked past them, making a beeline to the snacks aisle. She was greeted by a wide range of ramen, the different flavours and prices making it difficult to choose. She had about £1.50 in her purse and she desperately wanted a coffee too so she would have to be frugal. She was so engrossed with her ramen selection that she failed to notice a person coming up beside her. When she swivelled around to check the time on the obscenely large digital clock above the checkout, she crashed into them hard, causing her, them and the copious amounts of ramen they had piled in their arms to go flying to the floor.

Elain let out a yelp as she landed hard on her tailbone and felt her face heat up.

“I am so sorry!”

A deep, warm chuckle floated toward her and her head snapped up to look at its source. She found hazel eyes staring back. A large man with tan skin and dark hair sat in front of her, surrounded by many colourful packets of ramen. Her heart fluttered slightly as he smiled at her. He was handsome, even in this shitty convenience store lighting at 3 am dressed in similar attire to her.

“Don’t worry about it. I should have been paying more attention. Are you okay?”

She nodded before sitting up fully and helped to gather the ramen that lay around them. He smiled at her gratefully and they sat in content if not slightly awkward silence as they pulled the packets into a pile before finally rising. As she looked closer at him, a spark of recognition kindled within her.

“Do I know you?”

He looked at her curiously, tilting his head.

“I’m not sure but you do look familiar.”

They stood analysing each other. Normally the staring would make her uncomfortable, but with him, she found it didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should have. This went on for about a minute before she saw realisation set into his eyes.

“You’re Elain Archeron. The Head Chef for Archeron’s Kitchen. Why are you buying shitty ramen at 3 am? Shouldn’t you have made yourself a three-course meal by now?”

Elain felt something drop inside her. She hadn’t noticed that her hood had fallen off when she fell, exposing her and her shameful ramen buying to the whole world. But as he laughed softly, she remembered where she recognised him from.

She scowled at him as she said, “ Well you’re Azriel Knight, Starfall’s Head Chef, so you can’t exactly talk.”

She gestured to the stack of ramen that she had just helped pile into his arms. He turned away slightly as if to hide them.

“My stash had run out, okay. I need it to keep me going when I stay up late planning dishes.”

“I get that. That’s why I’m here right now.” She replied and a mutual understanding passed between them.

Elain knew she shouldn’t be talking to him right now, the reminders of the supposed rivalry between the two restaurants loomed like a shadow behind her. But the longer they spent together, the more she found herself not caring.

“I feel like we should be arguing,” He told her. “If my brothers were here, they would have been kicked out for yelling by now.”

She smiled, “Same for my sisters. But I’ve never really cared to be honest. I just want to focus on the food, not a silly competition that people seem to be taking too seriously.”

He nodded in agreement and they both began to walk to the cashier.

“So, what kind of dishes are you planning then?” She asked. “I promise I won’t steal any ideas. It’s not my style anyway.”

“I”m not a hundred percent sure on the actual contents of the dish right now, but I’m currently trying to create a more experimental menu. We recently unveiled a new line of drinks that have a more theatrical element to them. Colour changing, dry ice, bubbling, the whole shebang and I wanted to design a food menu that went along with that.”

He turned away from her to pay the cashier, giving her a moment to turn over his words in her head. She’d gotten a glimpse at some of the drinks and food from when she had taken a look at (read: stalked) their website and various social media sites. She had called it ‘scouting out the competition' when really she was curious to see what had set them apart enough for them to have such a rise in patronage. Whilst it wasn’t her style, she had always thought that she’d like to visit them and try what they had to offer. That was until the stupid rivalry had started and just walking by the restaurant was asking for trouble. Azriel finished paying and grabbed the plastic bag the cashier had placed his ramen in, moving out of the way so she could step up to the counter.

“That sounds amazing!” She replied. ‘I admit, I’ve always wanted to try some of your food but unfortunately, my sister’s might disown me if I even mention it. Calling them over-competitive would be the understatement of the century.”

He laughed at this and she took the opportunity to turn away and press the 50p coin into the cashier's hand. They nodded at her, satisfied and she turned back to Azriel. Together, they walked out of the door and into the cool night.

“I’d say you should stop by, but as you said, our siblings may not be too happy about that.” He let out a sigh. “As much as it amused me at first, I do wish we could just get along. I’d like to come and try some of your food too.”

He swivelled towards her, the white light from the store casting his face into shadows.

“I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but would you like to grab some coffee?”

She smiled at him, shoving the packet of ramen into her hoodie pocket.

“I’d love to. And maybe in the future, we could make some of our food for each other.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Like a date?”

She felt dread trickle in. Maybe she had misread the situation. They seemed to have been getting on well, and she had caught him checking her out when they first bumped into each other. Plus, he had just asked her to grab coffee with him. Perhaps he was just being friendly.

She swallowed anxiously before replying, “Yeah. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

He smiled at her brightly, making her heart stutter and skip a beat.

“I’d like that.”

They stood under the streetlamps in an almost abandoned parking lot. Two head chef’s from popular restaurants with bad ramen and a budding connection between them.

“What are you feeling? Starbucks or maybe that local coffee shop down the street? I think it’s called Veritas?”

Elain hummed as they started walking along the road.

“Veritas, I think. I can get a cup of tea for a pound.” She reached into her pocket to show him her single coin.

For the second time that evening (or was it morning?), he raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought I was buying?”

She glanced at him in confusion. “Since when?”

“I thought since I had asked you it was implied?”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “My god, we are bad at this. I think we need to get out of the kitchen more.”

“I’m not sure about that, I’ve got plenty of pick up lines I've stolen from my chefs.” He stepped in front of her, stopping her in her path. “Baby, you’re the crème to my brûlée.”

She groaned, hitting him on the arm as she pushed past him. “That was so bad! I might leave.”

“As if you could do better.”

She pulled out her phone, searching up ‘chef pick up lines’. She grimaced, “These are all so sexual! I think it might be best if we keep flirting out of the kitchen.”

They both doubled over in fits of laughter before continuing down the street. She was glad she gave in to her cravings and went to buy ramen at 3 am. She could tell that whatever this was, it was going to turn into something great.

*******************************

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