#and if he wins i AM double dipping

[longelk]

grandpa got snared very sad

[thecuriousbeauty]

One-Love! (Harry Styles Oneshot- Tennis player! Harry x Tennis Player y/n)

Synopsis:- This is a one shot inspired by Paris Olympics Gold medalists Katerina Siniakova and Tomas Machac, a beautiful couple who broke up before the olympics to focus on their game, and teamed up in the mixed doubles event to win the gold for their country. They shared a sweet kiss after their victory.

Word Count: 4,219

Warnings: Smut. Some sweet sex, a little bit of angst, and lots of fluff.

_______________________________________________

The sun was bright, warm, and not harsh, falling over y/n’s face through the small gaps of her window blinds. The alarm goes off and she wakes up with a soft groan, expertly reaching out a hand to silence it, without having to look. 

“Wakey wakey, it’s a beautiful morning!”She hears her boyfriend, Harry, and curls up on her side, hiding further under her blankets and acting like she’s still sleeping as she hears his footsteps coming towards her.

She feels the bed dip down with Harry’s weight as he climbs on, and leans over her, his breath fanning her face. “Aw, look at you, my sleepy head.”

y/n has to trap in her smile as she feels his gentle fingers stroke over her hair, moving the strands away from her face. “What am I gonna do to wake her up?”Harry wonders, smiling as he knows she’s playing with him. “Maybe I should go with a tickle attack.”

y/n gasps as his arms wrap around her waist, and hands sneak up to his oversized shirt she was wearing. “You can’t wake people up with tickle attacks!”, she says.

He laughs, pulling her so her back is to his chest. “You’re awake then?”

“No.”, she grumbles, turning around in his arms, and resting her forehead on his shoulder blade.”Why is it morning so fast?”

“Well, we did stay up till late. You wanted to go another round and then-”

“-Oh shut up.”, she cuts him off, and opens her eyes, meeting the forest green ones staring back at her. Harry’s face splits into a big smile as he rubs his nose with hers, something they always do. “There’s my girl.”

y/n has known Harry since years. They grew up in the same neighborhood, and their parents are friends. y/n and Harry didn’t get off to a great start though. Harry and his friends were playing football when y/n and her friend were walking by, and one of them kicked the ball towards them, making it splash onto a puddle right in front of them. The murky brown water fell on y/n’s friend’s new white top. Of course the boys didn’t mean to and they apologized, but since then, her friends wouldn’t look eye to eye with those boys. It seemed like a good grudge to keep at their young age.

y/n had a love for tennis. She loved watching the matches with her dad, and her dad even set up a net for her in the backyard so they could play. He enrolled her in the nearest coaching academy, where she didn’t know that Harry was training as well. 

“Oh Harry! It’s her first day today. Good that you have a friend already, eh?”Her dad smiles as he pats little Harry’s shoulder. The older curly haired boy smiled at y/n, a little smile playing on his lips. y/n tells her dad that she would be okay, and he leaves, promising to come pick her up after two hours. 

“So, you like tennis?”Harry asks, looking sideways at her as they walk inside. 

“Yes. You too?”, she asks, and he nods, putting out a hand. “Friends then?”

y/n smiles, shaking his hand. “Friends.”

“Someone once told me that mornings are the best time to train.”, Harry tells her as he brings his hands up to cup her face. 

“Must be a crazy person.”, she smiles, admiring how some of his brown curls fell over his face. “Yes, she is quite crazy. But I love her.”, he smiles back, dimples popping as his thumb stroked over her bottom lip. “Let’s go, sunshine. Made our smoothies ready.”

“Kiss?”, y/n puckers her lips. Harry looks at her fondly, before pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “I love you too.”, she says, ruffling his hair when they pull away and sits up, stretching her arms above her head. 

Harry and y/n get into their training clothes, after y/n freshens up and they get going to the court where they practice. They did their warm ups, and ran some rounds around the court first. Harry and y/n had different coaches, but they train together a lot of times.

“You’re going down, Styles.”, y/n says, pushing her hair back with her head band before picking up her racket.

“You can try, y/n.”, Harry grins, who was jumping on his toes on the opposite side. 

Harry was easily the best player she had played with, and played against. He was quick on his toes, his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s, and he moved on the court like a panther. He was something you would call a mastermind, he had moves saved until the last moment and surprised his opponent when they least expected it. Harry had the saddest time of his life when he failed to qualify for the Tokyo Olympics. He got injured during the qualifying match, and he couldn’t be at his best.

“One- Love!", Harry smirks, as he gets a point. 

y/n’s coach thought she wasn’t ready yet during Tokyo, so she was now looking at the Paris Olympics. Winning a medal for her country was her dream and she would do anything to get that. 

“Yess!”, y/n cheers as she gets the match winning point to beat Harry. They always get so close, and playing against y/n sends the gears in Harry’s head turning, and he has to be at the top of his game. y/n walks to the bench, sitting down tiredly and Harry walks to her, giving her a fist bump. “Nice one, babe.”

“Thanks.”, she smiles, taking her water bottle out of her bag and pouring some over her face before chugging it down. “Wanna go again?”

“I’d like to, but I’ve got a session with the coach in the evening, don’t wanna over work myself.”, Harry tells her and she nods. “Shall we go grab breakfast?”, he asks her.

“Sure.”

Harry and y/n get some breakfast, then spend the day with each other before they part for training with their coaches in the evening. 

“y/n, you have six months from now for the qualification rounds.”, her coach tells her. “We have to make a game plan for that soon.”

“I’m at the top of my game right now coach, I just have to keep doing what I’m doing, right?”, she asks. She had won silvers, and golds in the previous tournaments. She was one of the country’s best at the moment. 

“This is the Olympics, y/n, it’s not going to be easy.”, he tells her. “You have to work double as hard.”

“I will. I’m gonna go to Paris this time.”

He smiles at her, keeping his hands together over his knees as he leans to talk to her. She was sitting on the court, arms around her knees. “You know you have to let go of all distractions, right?”

“My social media and stuff? Yeah, I can do that.”

“I’m talking about Styles.”

She raises her eyebrows. “What about him? He isn’t a distraction coach, we make each other better. Besides, we’re competing in different categories, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I want your focus to be on Tennis completely, y/n.”, he stresses. “You can’t do that if you’ve got a love life. And you know as well I do, that Harry will do anything to get this win. He needs it. He’s getting older, and he’s under a lot of pressure. It’s good for both of you to stop dating for a while, at least until this gets over.”

y/n opens her mouth and closes it. “You’ve got what it takes y/n, you are so talented. Isn’t this your dream?”

“Yes..”, she whispers. 

“Then you have to let go of everything and give me your best in these next few months.”

Harry was fed the same things from his coach, and they both stopped seeing each other so frequently. They stayed over less, and there was this air of tension around them as the days grew closer. 

“Babe..”, Harry says. He pauses the show they were watching, making y/n turn to look at him. “Hm?”

“W-We, um, we need to talk.”

y/n nods, sitting up, and Harry takes her hand. He didn’t want to tell her this, but he had to. Tennis was important to him. This could be his last chance to finally make it. He had to make sacrifices. 

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”, he murmurs. “They’re right, we have to focus on the sport. It’s our dream.”

y/n’s heart squeezes in her chest. “Y-You’re just as important to me, Harry.”

Harry quickly looks up to her eyes, squeezing her hand. “y/n, you mean the world to me. You’re my person, and my everything. Trust me, I thought about this a lot.”

“Me too.”, she agrees quietly. “This is it, then?”

“No. No, please, don’t say that.”, he shakes his head, leaving her hand to scoop her into his lap. One of his hands cups her cheek, while the other lays at her hip. “We can get back together..when things are not so hectic.”

“So..we break up for a few months to focus on Tennis?”, she asks, tears springing in her eyes, and Harry’s heart breaks as he sees that. He nodded. “M-My dad..he wanted me to win in the Olympics, it was his dream. He even told me about it before he d-died. I-I have to do this, y/n.”

She nods, understanding. She had the same love for the sport. An Olympic medal is the best achievement for any sports person.

“I love you.”, she whispers, her forehead touching his. 

“I love you too.”, he whispers back, kissing her. His tongue strokes over her bottom lip and she opens up, to let his tongue explore her mouth. Her fingers play with the curls at the back of his head, as his hands run up and down her sides. “One last time?”, he whispers against her lips, eyes looking at hers. 

“One last time.”, she agrees, joining their lips again. Harry’s lips trail down her neck, and her jawline, leaving his marks. “N-No seeing anyone else, right?”, she asks.

“Do you want to?”, he asks, slipping his hand under her shirt to grope at her breast. She moans, pressing closer to him as she feels his boner through her shorts. “No..n-no one’s as good as you, Harry.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”, he smirks, rubbing her nipple between his fingers. “Let me see you, baby.”, he whispers, tugging her shirt off her body. y/n does the same to him, and continues to straddle his lap as he marks her up.

She runs her hands over his muscular arms, his broad shoulders and over his inked chest. “Just like that baby, go down on me, just like that.”, he murmurs, hands moving to her hip to get her into a rhythm. He plays with her breasts and showers her in kisses, groaning against her skin. 

“H-Harry I need you.”, she moans softly. “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Harry picks her up, hands under her ass as he takes them to the bedroom, their lips connecting again. He lets her back hit the bed softly, before hovering over her. “You are so beautiful.”, he punctuates each word with a kiss down to her stomach, while his hand moves to her core, feeling the sleekness of her wet folds. 

“Right back at ya, Styles.”, she says, pulling him closer as she runs her hands down his back. Harry groans, not able to hold on any longer. “Let me get inside you, darling.”

She spreads her legs, and he pushes his dick inside her. She moans at the feeling of being full. Harry fills her up so well. He starts moving in and out of her, his eyes looking at hers. “You feel so g-good, y/n.”, he moans. “So perfect for me.”

y/n looks at the love of her life, her chest bursting with emotions. She wished they could be here like this, with only the two of them in their own world forever.

“H-Harry?”, she asks, opening her palm, wanting him to hold her hand while he fucked her. Harry looks at her, also brimming with emotions. He tangles his hand with hers immediately, squeezing it tight. “I-I love you y/n. I love you so much.”

“I-I love you too.”, she smiles, her body starting to shake as she feels her orgasm coming. She clenched around his dick, and he brought his other hand to rub her clit. Her eyes roll back in her head as she whispers his name, again and again, as she reaches her high. Harry cums after she does, and he lays on top of her, exhausted.

“We’ll be fine, love.”, y/n whispers, running her hand through her favorite head of curls. 

Harry smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “We will.”

_____________________________________________

y/n and Harry hadn’t seen each other, or talked to each other for months. Harry missed y/n so much that he felt a constant tugging in his heart. He trained alone with his coach, and he missed the times when they would mess around with each other. He missed her laugh, the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles, he missed her scent in his room, on his clothes, he missed everything about her. The only thing that kept him going was his game.

y/n wasn’t any better. She was alright for the first few weeks, but then the empty space next to her on the bed, the lack of warmth when she woke up in the mornings, and the lack of cheesy jokes made her think about Harry. She was on a strict diet, and her coach put her on a different workout regime. It was so extreme that after a while, the only thing on her mind was Tennis. Her mind was trained. 

Over the months, y/n’s agility improved along with other aspects, and she became great at reading the game. She was beating everyone she played against. Finally, it was time for the qualification rounds. 

Harry had finished his match, and he had won, so he had booked his spot in Paris, representing Britain. 

“Back to the hotel now?”, his friend, who’s also under the training of his coach asks him. 

“Next match in court number five! y/n y/l/n versus Yasmin Reinardo!”, Harry hears the announcement and his eyes widen. He wanted to go see her.

“Um, you go ahead.”, he told his friend, before rushing off to court five. He joined the audience, making it just in time.

He felt so many emotions when he saw her. It had been six months. His sunshine, his baby, his love. She looked incredible. Gorgeous as always, and she had gained some muscle around her arms. Her hair was tied into a high pony, and she wore her favorite white head band which she thinks is her lucky charm. 

Harry was so proud as he watched his girl on the court, she was on fire. Her opponent was good, but not good enough. 

y/n won the game, and the other girl broke into tears. After all, she also had the dream for representing her country at the Olympics. y/n pulls her into a hug, rubbing her back as she mumbled something Harry couldn’t hear, but he smiled. He quickly went down to meet her, as she wiped the sweat off her body with a towel.

“Congratulations, love.”

She spins around so quickly when she hears his voice, and her eyes melt. She was overjoyed with emotion because of the win. She was going to compete in the Olympics for the first time! And the first person that she wanted to see was Harry, who was right in front of her.

“Harry.”, she gushes, before throwing her arms around him. Harry didn’t mind the sweat, he needed the hug just as much as she did. He squeezed her to her chest, holding her close. “O-Oh my god, I can’t believe it.”, she shakes in his arms.

“You made it love, you’re going to Paris!”, he rubs her back, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He heard the camera click, and knew their photos were being taken. Oh well. He couldn’t worry about that now.

“Y-You?”, y/n pulls back to look at him. Harry grinned at her, dipping his head down to rub his nose with hers. “I’m coming along too.”

She grins back and squeezes him. “I would have been so mad if we broke up for no reason. We get a free ticket to Paris!”

________________________________________

The Olympics will be held in another four months.. They caught up that day during the qualifications, grabbed a dinner together to celebrate, and then they were back to training. 

They would see each other more often now, because all the British representatives trained together. Harry and y/n were both in better spirits now that they could see each other frequently, even if it was strictly during practice. 

They would exchange subtle glances, touch hands when they exchanged things, and talk when they got time, but it was mostly about the game. One month before the Olympics, their team was yet to decide who would play for the mixed doubles. 

“You both have played together before, right?”, one of the coaches asked Harry. “y/n and I? Yeah, in the commonwealth, we won bronze.”

“I think they’re our best shot.”, the guy says, looking at the other coaches and the players. 

“What do you guys think?”

Harry looks at y/n, from across the room, like I’m okay if you’re okay.

Yes, there was their break up thing, they hadn’t kissed in months, there would be sexual tension having to play right next to him as his team member, and she couldn’t let that affect the event she was competing for. But it was an amazing opportunity, she had two chances to get a medal.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. We’ve played together the most, and we make a good team.”, y/n said, and Harry smiled. 

So that’s how they started preparing together, for the mixed doubles along with their own events. 

“Are you nervous?”, y/n asks one night, as she sits on the floor stretching. “We’re flying to Paris tomorrow, Harry.”

“I’m excited about going to Paris, but am I nervous about the actual reason we’re going? Yes.”, he says, making her chuckle. They were the only ones there, and Harry was putting his racket into its case. “It’s gonna be unreal. I mean, we’re getting a step closer to our dreams.”

y/n nods, stretching her legs out. “Any tips from your experience? About the whole adjusting to playing in the world’s biggest tournament thing.”

Harry laughs lightly, turning to her. “Babe, this is my first time too.” He crouches down so he’s looking at her. “But I’d say just focus on your game. You are the best, believe only that. Tune out everything else. You might feel like listening to the crowd who’s cheering for you, but tune that out too. You focus on doing what you’re good at. You’ve sacrificed so much for this, and you deserve to win. Play with that feeling.”

y/n looks into his eyes, and nods as his words seep into her brain. Her eyes moved to his lips, he was so close. Just one kiss. 

Harry leaned closer, but it was to grab her leg. “Let me stretch you out.”

“Y-Yeah..”, she looks away from him. Harry had only gotten more attractive, and she loved seeing him in his short tennis shorts and a loose shirt. His tattoo covered muscular arms made her go weak in the knees.

“Lay back.”, Harry says and she does. Harry’s hands slowly lift up her leg, one of his hands on the back of her thigh and the other on her foot as he applies some pressure to it. She can’t stretch herself out so well. 

“Other leg.”, Harry smiles, keeping that leg down and his hands reaching for her other leg. She lifts it up, and he stretches it out like he did with the other. He was on his knees in front of her. Then he folds her leg, making her knee touch her chin.

“Hold it for another second..”, he hums, counting down. He did the same for the other leg, and she feels like her muscles are dissolving under her touch. 

“Pancake time.”, Harry pats her thigh, and she sits up, leaning over with her hands on the floor, going into something called the pancake stretch. Harry goes behind her, and applies pressure to her back. “Head down..that’s it, hold it there.”

She groans, feeling the stretch. Harry can’t help but smile, she can’t see his face anyway. “Alright, arms up.”

He stretches her arms, holding them above her head, and when he’s done, he kisses the top of her head. “All done.”

“Thanks, H.”, she smiles. “I’m gonna get going, make sure I’ve packed everything.”

“Mhm.” He wishes he could go with her. 

“Soon.”, she promises, like she read his mind, and he smiles as she kisses his cheek before walking away with her bag.

_____________________________________________________

It was crazy. Harry and y/n were in the Olympic Village, competing in the Paris Olympics. It was unbelievable. y/n had to pinch herself when she got there. It was every sports lover’s dream. They got a little tour when they arrived, and she was awed by all the different areas for the numerous sports competitions. 

She stood beside Harry for the opening ceremony, along with their other team members as they were welcomed. She was overwhelmed, thinking about how hard she had worked to get there. 

Her own event was going to be after a few days, the first event was her mixed doubles with Harry. They knew very well each other’s strengths and weaknesses, who should cover what, and everything else. They were well prepared and planned.

They won every game they played, and made it to the finals. 

y/n wanted to win this for Harry. She was going to give it her best. 

“We got this.”, Harry squeezes her hand as she jumps around, minutes before the match. “y/n, we got this.”

She nods, taking a deep breath and looking at him. A medal was sure. If not gold, silver. But their eyes were on the gold. Everyone wants to win.

She walks to Harry, and hugs him. “We’ve gotten this far love, this is the final stretch.”, Harry whispers against her hair. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

“I-I’m proud of you too.”, she pulls back to hold his face. “A-And I can’t do it anymore. I-I can’t live without you, Harry.”

“Neither can I, baby. I need you in my life, I can’t fucking breathe if I think about losing you, ever.”, Harry squeezes her tight. “Now, it’s time to win a medal. What do you say?”

“I say yes.”, she grins. 

Everyone cheers as Harry and y/n enter the court, shaking hands with their opponents. The fans loved to cook up theories about Harry and y/n, being seen out a lot of times with each other and their chemistry on the court is just magical to watch. Harry and y/n give cheeky responses when they're asked about it during interviews. They never confirmed their relationship, but their fans think it's obvious.

“One- Love!”

They score a point, and grin at each other before their hands meet for a fist bump. It was a tight game, keeping the people watching at the edge of her seats. They won the first set.

y/n and Harry are seen whispering to each other and their coaches as they drink their water and electrolytes during the break. They knew where their opponents were weak and just how to win the second set just like they had won the first.

And they do.

y/n screams in joy and astonishment. The fact that she just won an Olympic Gold Medal for her country felt so unreal! Harry was going through the same emotions. He made his father proud, he achieved what he had been working towards for years. 

The whole world was looking at them, but Harry could only see one person. His partner and the love of his life. 

“We won Harry! We won!”, she jumps high into the air, before wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him. Harry laughs as he lifts his girl up, spinning her around. They were laughing and crying at the same time. When Harry lets her feet touch the ground, she grins at him through her tears, and he cups her face. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Harry.”, she chokes back, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. He kissed her. He kissed her like he didn’t for 10 months, he kissed her like he couldn’t breathe, and he kissed her like they just became World Champions.

Kateřina Siniaková and Tomáš Macháč- Gold medlists, Mixed Doubles. Paris Olympics, 2024.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twelve

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: None! Familiar faces return to Velaris and Y/n finally gets a chance to explore the city...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

I’ve been dreaming again. Dreaming of him. 

Thanatos. With his milky pale skin the color of bleached bones. Bold brush strokes of black ink mark his clothes and paint his hair and his marble eyes. I should feel unsettled when looking into the face of death. But I don’t. I’m the only one who gets to see him like this. The only one who gets to see his true face and I don’t know why. He doesn’t understand it either, and it frustrates him to no end. 

He’s almost as curious as I am. Almost. 

He came to the cabin again today, carrying that black lit candle between his spindly fingers like he believed in the Mother and was prepared to pray and sing to her like the rest of us. He says he likes to hear me during the service, tiny and informal as it is, but really I think he’s here because it irks me, and because I’m some tapestry he can’t seem to unravel.

He asked me again whether I’d call upon the Mother for him. He says he has a question that needs answering, and once he has his answer, he’ll be able to tell me how we can defeat Koschei. If it’s even possible. 

But I don’t believe that male for a second. He’d sooner carve the world to bits and devour the scraps before helping us like the coyote he is.

Rest assured I will never agree to his bargain. It will take more than that to turn Bethsevah Mordeigh.  

Although he said something strange that night, when the candles had dripped and left their waxy marks on the altar. 

“You were made to ruin me, Beth,” he said, “And I will let you do it a thousand—a million—times over.” 

He spoke in a dozen different voices, but I can’t deny I liked how the sounds came together and became his own. 

You jerked awake with your hand still cradling the book against your chest. 

Bethsevah Mordeigh. 

You had a name. 

You had a name! 

You burst out of your room. 

“Az! Az! I’ve got something.” You beat your fist against his bedroom door. “Az!” There was silence. 

The kitchen was empty, dirty dishes scrubbing themselves clean in the sink. A glance at the clock above the oven told you you’d slept in a great deal.

You took the steps two at a time, sprinting down the hallway towards the west wing. The training arena took up most of the second floor stocked with enough weapons to outfit a small army. Wood and stone knobs stuck out from the wall at extreme angles as part of the climbing gym. The ceiling dipped up and down like draped fabric. On any other day you would have seen Valkyries with rippling arms and backs making their way up to the green flag pinned directly above the room’s center point, bodies straining against the pull of gravity. But not today. 

Two of the three mats spaced across the room were occupied and you heard the beat of Illyrian wings before you even opened the double doors. 

Feyre and Nesta stood against the side wall bracketed by racks of steel swords, glistening throwing knives, and an Illyrian bow as long as you were tall. 

Feyre licked her lips, greedily tracing Rhysand’s powerful form as he went toe to toe with Azriel. You couldn’t help but stare as well as they leapt around the ring in a blur of wings and shadow. You’d never seen Azriel shirtless but… well… it was a sight you could get used to. 

It was a dance — a dangerous, deadly dance — and although the language of violence wasn’t one you were familiar with, you could read the display well enough to know that Azriel would win this round. 

Sweat glistened on his skin, slipping down the curves of his back where leathery black wings fused with his shoulder blades. Tattoos wrapped around his shoulders and across his chest, pulsing with a life of their own as Azriel cleanly side stepped one of Rhysand’s kicks. There was the faintest crease in the High Lord’s brow to let you know he was getting tired. 

But Azriel was just getting started. And now that he knew you were watching? He wanted to make it worth your while.  

Rhys gritted his teeth, launching out with a strike quicker than lightning. Someway, somehow, Azriel was faster. He dipped to the side, Rhys’s knuckle just kissing his cheekbones and came up for a counterstrike, slamming his fist so hard into his brother’s cheek that he staggered back. 

That was unnecessary. Rhys snapped his jaw back into place.

Azriel grinned. Fatherhood suits you. But I can’t let you get soft.

There was a roll of violet eyes. Sure. That’s why you’re trying so hard right now.

Rhys snatched Azriel’s leg out of the air, rolling onto the ground in a move that sent the Shadowsinger twisting in a graceful arch that had your breath catching in your throat. He broke free of Rhysand’s hold, leaping onto his feet like gravity didn’t apply. 

You met his eyes, heady and dark, and could have sworn he winked. But it may have just been a trick of the light. 

You ducked your head, hurrying across the room towards Feyre and Nesta and hoping they wouldn’t comment on the flush creeping up your neck.

“Fey—” you began urgently.

The High Lady held up a hand and you fell silent. There was a sheen to her eyes that let you know she was honing in on Rhysand’s moves with more than just her eyes. 

Nesta smirked at you as you blushed. You struggled to keep your gaze from drifting back to the powerful display, even as you caught glimpses of Azriel’s tan body out of the corner of your eye. Rippling, bold, strong. 

“Don’t worry about staring,” Nesta said with a wicked glimmer. “The boys admire us. We admire them. It’s an even exchange.” 

One mat over Cassian was sparing with a new female you’d never seen before. Illyrian, but there was something wrong with her wings. They were held strong and proud above the ground, but they dragged in places where Cassian had control over every minor movement. If you concentrated closely enough, you could make out the thin, shiny scars that had snipped the tendon closest to the apex of her wings, just by the arch of her claws. 

Your stomach dropped with horror.

Her wings had been clipped. 

She held her own against the Lord of Bloodshed. Cassian might have had the advantage of experience and his longer limbs, but she moved with a daring determination. She dodged every blow by the narrowest margin, conserving her energy so when she was able to slip close and find her opening, she slammed her elbow up and into his nose with a sickening crack that echoed throughout the room. 

You winced, hands flying up to your face at the same time that Cassian’s did. 

“FUCK!” He roared. 

“Whooo! THAT’S MY WIFE!” A gorgeous, curvy blond hung off one of the ring posts, legs propped up on the tensioned ropes. 

There was only one member of their family that had ever been described as sunlight incarnate. That had to be Mor. Which meant the striking female currently giving Cassian hell on the mat was Emerie.

Emerie blushed, stealing a heavy look for long enough for Cassian to snap his nose back into place. He ducked down and swept her legs out from beneath her, wrestling her to the ground in a tangle of leather and wings. But Nesta didn’t let him have the advantage for too long. 

Cassian choked on the teasing words he’d prepared for Emerie when Nesta sent him a particularly candid image of herself in a strip of black fabric. 

For later tonight. She whispered down the bond.

Damn it Nes.

Emerie smashed her forehead into his already swollen nose, then her knee surged up with enough strength to crack ribs. She braced her foot against his chest and flipped him over her head and onto his back, wrapping her powerful legs around his neck and pinning him to the ground with his arm forced back in his socket. Finally he tapped out. 

“Poor Illyrian baby,” Nesta crooned as Emerie pulled Cassian to his feet. Despite the blood that dripped from his nose, he was glowing with pride at Emerie. “Better luck next time.”

Mor grasped Emerie by the front of her training gear and yanked her close for a long kiss that left the Illyrian stumbling back with red lipstick smeared over her lips and a dark blush across her caramel cheeks. 

Nesta yelped when Cassian wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground with one arm like she weighed nothing.

“We could try that move tonight. Your legs, my face? But this time I won’t tap out.” Cassian winked and Nesta leveled a sultry glare in his direction, eyes lingering on the sheen of his muscular chest with unabashed heat. 

“Get a room,” Mor called out and Emerie threw a towel in his direction. It landed over his shoulder with comical perfection. 

“Says the pair that had to disappear to another continent after their wedding ceremony.” 

Mor flung an obscene gesture his way and Cassian returned it with equal fervor. “Says the pair that made Azriel run for the hills when he was left to chaperone.” 

“Hey! That’s on Rhysand. He never should have left us with a chaperone at all.” Nesta cut in. 

“You rang.” Rhysand appeared sweaty and spent behind Mor’s shoulder and slung his arm around her. The bruises on his cheeks were turning darker by the second.

Azriel hovered on the edges of the crowd, glancing at Mor and then at you. He was mildly disappointed that you’d been too busy watching Cass and Emerie to see him win at the end of the fight.  

“Gross, get off of me.” Mor shoved her cousin away. 

Rhysand’s shoulders shook with laughter. He smiled at you, eyes gleaming with happiness. It had been so long since he’d last seen his cousin. 

“Mor.” He gestured to you, “Meet Y/n—” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I think I just realized I don’t know your last name.” 

“Halwynn.” You offered up your mother’s last name. Even though you technically didn’t have any right to it as a bastard, it’s the name you’d gone by your whole life.

“Meet Y/n Halwynn,” Rhysand finished. 

“The resident intellect,” Mor said, caramel-brown eyes shining. “Well thank the Mother, you showed up when you did.” She looped her arm around yours easily and you caught a whiff of the perfume she’d dotted against her collarbones — amber and vanilla. A ruby the size of your thumb hung from a gold chain, following the dramatic dip in the front of her scarlet dress that left little to the imagination. You thought she might just be the most gorgeous female you’d ever seen. 

“We’d be absolutely lost without you. I hope the Library is up to your standards, although let’s be honest, it probably isn’t.”

You agreed a little too quickly. 

“Bethsevah Mordeigh.” Rhysand turned the name over in his mind, testing its familiarity and coming up empty. “Any takers?” 

You all stood around Rhysand’s desk, the book propped open beside bottles of jet-black ink, eagle-feather pens, and neat stacks of parchment paper.

Everyone shook their heads. 

“Fair enough.” He looked disappointed, but not surprised. “We’re only separated by a few thousand years, give or take.”

You paced in front of the windowsill, nervously picking at your fingernails until they were under threat of bleeding. Azriel noticed and one of his shadows gently wrapped around your wrists and pulled your hands apart. You looked at him gratefully and stuck your hands in your pockets.

“The oldest text I’ve seen dates back twelve-thousand years,” Feyre offered. “I’ve also asked Gwyn and Clotho to begin searching.”

“What about the Day Court?” Azriel looked at you.

“I can ask Helion to search the archives. But I’ll warn you, records dating back that far are few and far apart. And priestesses back then were less keen on recording the movements of their members. But we might get lucky with some of her descendants if they ever joined the order. Work our way backwards through history.”

Mor shot Rhysand a look. “Why ask me to come back here now? I could have been of better use searching for this information on the Continent.”

“Now is not the time for you to be traversing foreign lands. Not with Koschei at risk of being let loose.” 

You shook your head. “And it wouldn’t matter. Bethsevah wouldn’t have been born on the Continent. If she ever went, it would have only been to trap Koschei. Our best bet is to search for information about her down south.”

The others stared at you in confusion. You blinked as if the answer was obvious. “Organized religion surrounding the Mother emerged in Southern Prythian and her priestesses didn’t spread out to Hybern or the Continent until the Insynthian Age.”

“Your point being?” Nesta folded her arms over her chest. When it came to the specifics of Prythian history, she and Feyre were about as useful as a glass rod in a lightning storm. 

“The bit about the candles is a very, very old ceremony. People would write their prayers in blood and have a priestess burn them on a candle made with a strand of their hair woven into the wick. If Bethsevah was a priestess performing this ritual, she would have been an early member of the order. Before the Insynthian Age.” 

“That would narrow things down significantly.” Rhysand nodded in approval. “I’ll reach out to Lucien, see if he’ll be able to find anything out for us.”

You pulled a sheef of paper out from your pockets and Helion’s pen. You scribbled down a note to him about what you’d discovered and within five minutes the words were racing south to the Day Court. 

“How on earth do you know this?” Mor asked incredulously, looking at you with a mixture of awe and bewilderment.

“I’m a Librarian.” She looked unimpressed by that statement. “I had a religious phase.” You smoothed your thumb over your necklace, feeling for your mother’s seal — a flowering heather and fountain pen crossed over in an “x”. 

“A religious phase?”  

“Yes.” 

She clicked her tongue, red lips turning up in a smirk. “You Day Court fae are certainly something.” 

You blushed. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything else.” You went to grab the book, but Mor’s hand slapped down first, pinning it to the table and you with a stare. 

“Nope. Work is for tomorrow,” Mor declared, eyes glittering with fondness. “Today, I want to see my city with my family.” 

You tapped the book through your robes, counting the rhythmic swings against your hip like a metronome. One. Two. One. Two. One-

Cassian leaned down to whisper, “You’re doing great,” before waving to a male with ash-blonde hair standing beside an apple cart. 

Pink ladies, honeycrisps, and ambrosias were piled high into luscious clouds. Two gestures and a flick of a coin through the air later and Cassian was shoving a small, flimsy basket in your hand. Roasted apples covered in burnt sugar and drizzled with caramel seeped into the wax paper. 

One. Two. One. Two. 

It was still too early for most of the Night Court, but the hustle and bustle in the Palace of Bone and Salt was unperturbed. Now was the time for the owners of small shops to haggle for prices without interfering with common business. The apple cart you just left had a new customer already — a wispy female with candy-floss hair lugging a basket on wheels capable of carrying three bushels for the bakery two streets over.

“Would you like some?” You held the food up to Azriel, but he only stumbled over a crack cobblestone street before shaking his head no. 

He was being awfully quiet today. Quieter than usual. 

Maybe he’s sick? You thought to yourself. He hadn’t eaten lunch either, but maybe that was just because he disliked the sandwiches you’d made. Or maybe it was because of a certain blond-haired female who kept giving him side glances with questions eating at her from the inside out.

“Come on,” you encouraged, nudging his shoulder. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.” 

Azriel looked at the apple slice you held out for him like it was a personal torture.

Cassian grinned and slung his arm over your shoulders, peeling you away from Azriel’s side to his relief. The weight was a comfort coming from him and you felt that thrill in your stomach whenever any member of the Inner Circle touched you. 

“Azriel won’t starve. I promise, Y/n.” 

Nyx thought he might starve. He was a growing boy, and had a stomach to match. He tapped your elbow and you wordlessly passed over the basket to him, but not before snatching a piece for yourself. The sugar crackled, then melted over your tongue, the sharpness from the apple cutting through caramel in a burst of tartness. 

“How is Helion doing by the way?” Mor dropped the question casually. “Rhys says you know him well.” 

You blinked at her. What did she care about Helion? “I’ve worked on a few projects for him before this one. And he’s doing as well as he can be, I suppose. Things aren’t exactly perfect in the Day Court right now.”

“Ah, Helion,” Mor breathed out, almost wistfully, “He was one of the few good males I ever slept with.” 

You choked on your food, sputtering and coughing for long enough that Cassian started to slap your back. You felt your bones shake with each blow.

So… Mor had slept with your father… figures.

Feyre looked at you with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you said meekly. You shoved more food in your mouth before anyone could ask any further questions.

Azriel felt that familiar pool of jealousy bubble in his stomach at the mention of Helion. You kept rubbing that necklace of yours, Helion’s seal displayed prominently like he’d personally stamped you as his. 

He allowed himself to get close enough to brush against your shoulder and a few of his shadows creeped onto your body, weaving themselves into your hair. You looked up at him and smiled. 

“You’re in a good mood today.” Azriel’s hazel eyes were brighter in the morning light, flecks of green poking through the amber. “You’re smiling.” 

And what didn’t you have to be smiling about? You were finally exploring Velaris. Mor, Cassian, and Nyx had touched you, albeit through the fabric of your robes, and you hadn’t been overwhelmed. And you’d finally been able to take knowledge from the book.

 It had been a pinch of information as potent as saltwater. You had gotten a name, and names held power. 

Azriel’s eyes glimmered with quiet delight. 

“I’m just happy,” you said. “I think things are getting better, with—” You glanced down at where your arms swung side by side and you reached out a finger, allowing it to gently brush against the scars at the top of his left hand. You curled your fingers around his for the briefest moment before letting go. “And… you know.” You shrugged. 

Azriel stopped walking abruptly and everyone turned to stare at him. The Shadowsinger was strung taughter than an Illyrian bow. 

Mor raised her brow in open appraisal. There was a flash of something like shock in her eyes and then she was buried in Emerie’s hair, whispering something into the female’s rounded ears that had her dark carved eyebrows flying up to her hairline.

“Az?” Rhys asked cheekily, “Everything alright?”

Cassian chuckled and even Nesta smirked.

Last year he was giving Elain and Gwyn the bedroom eyes, and now he short-circuits because Y/n brushes her hand against his? I don’t believe what I’m seeing, Cass.

Some females like their males a little pathetic and lovesick. 

You would know. 

Cassian chuckled, looping his arm around her waist and burying his lips in her hair. He twirled the face framing pieces between his fingers like he always did, and Nesta tried not to think about how she’d first started leaving them out after meeting the Lord of Bloodshed. It would seem she had once been a pathetic and lovesick fool herself.

I love it when you tease, Nes. 

Maybe she still was. Nesta couldn’t help but lean into his touch. 

They do make a good couple. She admitted and Cassian was in agreement.

Feyre was thinking the same thing as you twisted towards him, hand still outstretched like there was a string tying your fingers to his. You couldn’t help but want to drift towards him as surely as gravity makes rain fall to the earth. 

Does she know? Mor grasped Rhysand’s arm, eyes wide and staring. Does she know they’re mates? 

Not yet. 

Mor groaned. Are you fucking kidding me?

I wish I was.

Damn you, Azriel.

Azriel shook his head and forced his body to move forward. The world had stopped when you touched him, and it was only just starting to pick up again. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. 

Nyx munched on his apple slice, staring at you both curiously before following after his mother and father.

“Did you hear something?” You stayed by his side, no longer interested in the aromas fluttering in the air from the bakery, the soup shop with its stone vats bubbling in the back, the smokehouse with its slabs of bacon crackling on grease. “From your shadows?”

“No. Why did you think that?”

“You had a look in your eye, like you weren’t quite there for a second. My mother used to say that I looked like that sometimes when using my powers. Like for a moment I was untethered from the earth and at risk of floating away.” 

Azriel saved that piece of information, storing it away in his mind next to the knowledge that you had always wanted a dustbear for a pet because they were such simple, mindless creatures and you never felt overcome in their presence. 

“I do feel that way at times.” He waited until your little troupe passed by the spice shops. The particles in the air always made Cassian sneeze. “But not now.” 

Everyone dipped into a paisley blue building, the bell ringing with a soft clang to announce their presence. 

“Right now I feel… settled.” 

You grinned at him brighter than the sun, moon, and stars combined. “Good.” 

You followed after the others, and while your back was turned, Mor took her opportunity. She clawed the back of Azriel’s leathers, hauling him down the alleyway before anyone could notice. 

Azriel’s eyes blew open in surprise when Mor shoved him up against the wall hard enough for a rain of petals to fall over their heads from the second floor balcony. It would have been romantic if it weren’t for the incredulous look in Mor’s eyes and the fact that Azriel was still caught up in your smile and the feeling of your skin against his. Gods he wished you were the one pressing him against this wall. He couldn’t stop thinking about that hug in Rhysand’s office. He wanted to feel the softness of your body against him once more. 

“You idiot!” Mor slapped him across the face and it shocked him back to the present. “Why didn’t you tell me you found your mate?” She hissed. 

Azriel looked frantically back to the street, half expecting you to be standing there with your inquisitive eyes. It was still a jolt to his system whenever anyone used that word: mate. Equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. It was such a fragile word, and the others tossed it around so dangerously. 

“I didn’t—” Azriel stammered. Mor and Emerie’s arrival this morning had been unexpected for everyone except Rhysand and Feyre. “There wasn’t time.” “So?! You should’ve made time.” Mor stepped away, letting the Shadowsinger back down onto his feet. He had the good sense to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck while Mor tossed her waist length hair over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed pink, tanned and freckled from her time on the Continent. 

Azriel felt that familiar coil of guilt building in his stomach and he tried to remember the apology he’d been preparing for this exact moment when he and Mor would be alone. 

He cleared his throat and bowed his head to the ground in a picture of reverent apology. “Mor, about what I said—”

She crashed into him again, arms looping around his neck and squeezing him so tightly he felt his ribs crack. And she was… laughing?

“You have a mate!” She giggled through happy tears, bouncing on her feet. Her heels clicked against the granite tiles. “My best friend finally has a mate!”

She kept repeating it over and over again, like she couldn’t quite believe it herself. 

“Mor, please. Keep it down.” They were attracting attention and Azriel wordlessly summoned his shadows to hide them from view.

Mor finally let him go, covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m sorry I just—” She squealed. 

Azriel let out a long, heavy sigh. This was closer to the reaction he should have had when Mor and Emerie announced their engagement. Instead he’d gone cold and silent. 

He should have known Mor preferred females, and maybe he had known all along that Mor could never love him the way he’d once loved her. But he’d done what he always did when it came to love and ran forward with a blindfold on, hoping his aim was true but never bothering to check. 

Mor furrowed her brows. “Are you upset by this? Why do you look like that?”

“What?” Azriel hissed like the question physically hurt him. “No. No! I’m not upset, I’m—” He clenched his fists and said in a small voice, “I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” He took a deep breath and winced, “And I’m thinking that you must have felt similarly when you got together with Emerie, and that I royally fucked up by reacting the way that I did.” 

He could picture it clear as day — Mor’s radiant smile slipping off her face, left hand dropping behind her back to hide the glittering ruby, the tears that gathered in her eyes when all Azriel did was remain stiff as stone before dropping off the balcony at her engagement party. 

Mor hesitated then tucked her honey-gold waves behind her ears like she did whenever she was uncomfortable. “I should have told you sooner.” Azriel knew she was referring to more than just her relationship with Emerie. “I knew you loved me and I let you believe for so long that there might be a chance I could return those feelings. But I was scared because… because I wanted to know there would always be someone waiting for me if…” She pressed her hands over her stomach. The nails may have disappeared from her body without a trace, but they’d been hammered elsewhere in her soul and she hadn’t managed to take them out just yet. “It was wrong of me to use you like that. To keep you waiting for so long.”

Azriel rubbed her shoulders. “I think you gave me more than a few hints that it wouldn’t work out. Chief among them, Cassian.” Mor’s gaze dropped to her feet, but all Azriel did was press a gentle kiss to the crown of her forehead. “I still love you, Mor, and I always will. It’s just a different kind of love now. I’m happy for you and Emerie. Truly.” 

“Yeah?” She looked up hopefully. 

Azriel nodded. He pulled Mor close, wrapping his wings around her to block out the sounds of bartering happening in the square. They stayed like that for a long while, until the shadows on the wall had dropped another inch. 

Mor sniffled and pushed him away. “Ok, enough of this now.” She carefully brushed away at the corner of her eyes, “You’re ruining my makeup.” 

Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, and Mor noted how it seemed to come easier to him now.   

The whole day you’d felt that something was amiss, but it wasn’t until a flustered artisan carrying bolts of spider silk fabric crashed into you that you realized what it was.

You stumbled into Azriel’s sturdy arms, feeling the strength and power beneath his leathers as he propped you up against his side. 

“So sorry, miss. Please forgive me.” The artisan blubbered. His cat eyes glowed a pale orange as they flickered over you from head to toe, “Can’t see with this.” He lifted the bolt. There was something about his gaze that unsettled you, like he was searching for something. Like he was hungry. Or scared.

“It’s alright.” You adjusted your clothes, tucked the book behind your back so it was pressed up against Azriel’s hip. 

That look in his eyes disappeared and he huffed in relief before continuing down the cobblestone streets, too much in a hurry to notice the Shadowsinger glaring at him.

“Are you ok?” He let you find your footing, keeping his hand at the small of your back. 

You stared at the male’s retreating form. “He didn’t… he didn’t bow to you. To any of you.” You blinked at Feyre and Rhysand.

She wore no crown, no jewelry except the ring on her finger and the diamonds in her  ears, but the male must have known he was in the presence of his High Lady. And there was no mistaking Rhysand and his brothers.

“Like Azriel said when you first arrived here, we take the casual approach.” Feyre said, and as if to make the point, Nyx shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to the side in a manner so like Rhys that Azriel and Cassian burst out laughing. Rhys looked down fondly and brushed back his hair. 

Feyre drifted to your side, watching with amusement as Nyx disappeared into the forest of color that was the Palace of Thread and Jewels. Every inch of fabric was too precious to be wasted, and so the weavers collected the scraps and tied them together, end to end, until they became one long chain. They hung from the entrances of shops, from the arches criss-crossing overhead, and from hand-painted signs. They wrapped around doorways and caught on the shoulders of passerbys, whispering of the time and effort spent crafting them.

Nyx weaved in and out of these strands, chased by Cassian and Azriel as they pretended to be tricked by the little boy’s lithe footsteps. You gasped as he turned invisible, then reappeared four inches to his left, jabbing at Azriel’s side before disappearing again.

“He can wrap light around himself as much as he can weave darkness,” Feyre explained, staying close to your side, “I think he might have gotten some remnant of the Day Court’s power from me. It made him an absolute nightmare for about three years when he couldn’t control it. Can you imagine having a toddler waddling around and wreaking havoc that you can’t even see?”

Nesta let out a sharp breath of laughter. “I think that’s an experience unique to you, Fey.”

You had to agree. You’d never turned invisible as a child, although you had to admit it would have been a very useful power to inherit from your father.

“Gotcha! You little rascal!” Cassian said triumphantly. 

You heard Nyx shriek with laughter. Cassian and Azriel both had one arm raised above their heads and with a little shake the boy came back into view, dangling upside down from his ankles.  

“Don’t break the boy, Cass.” 

“I won’t break him, Rhys. Gotta let him grow old enough to beat all those bastards at Windhaven, don’t I?” 

Rhys and Feyre’s smiles slipped ever so slightly. 

Nyx was lowered to the ground. He kept his arms out and balanced on his hands for a brief moment before walking over onto his feet with a flourish. 

“Gwyn taught me that last week. She’s part river nymph. Very flexible.” He brushed invisible dirt from his shirt and continued on, leading the way towards the Sidra like he owned the place — which in some respects he did.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Just another little chapter with more slowburn antics between Y/n and Azriel! And! Mor and Emerie are here! I am slowly but surely collecting characters like pokemon cards because you know I want to have my favorites in Velaris when shit starts to go down...

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i am so proud of the boys and what they accomplished after everyone counted them out 💙🧡 can’t wait for next year when they’ve had a full training camp with patrick and they come back better than ever 🤍

tw: child goes “missing” for a brief moment, mild innuendo

word count: 2.9k

summary: the msg broadcast gets double the barzal men for a little bit

Offering to take the girls to the arena for a game seems like it’s a great idea until you’ve got Talia, both Martin girls, and Tulsa Horvat begging for pretzels mid-way through the second. Normally you’d have at least one of Syd or Holly with you, but since the outing is for Talia’s birthday, you’d thought it would be fine to just take the girls yourself. That you’d be a good friend, letting Syd and Holly have their Thursday night free, since all of your husbands are retired now and they don’t have to come to the arena if they don’t want to.

But Max is getting antsy and Talia is yapping your ear off - much like her father - begging for snacks.

“Mom, please, I’m starving,” she pokes her lip out at you in a pout and widens her hazel eyes. She looks unfairly like Mat when she makes that expression even though her general looks had shifted to favor yours as she got older. You’ve never really been able to say no to either kid anyway.

“Can you at least watch your brother while I go get snacks?” You ask, lifting your eyebrow and twisting your hair back into a slightly sloppy ponytail. Max swings his legs in his seat next to you, grinning at his big sister. His hat dips over his eyes and you make a mental note to adjust the strap.

Talia looks at you as if you just asked her to swallow a cup of live spiders. “Mom, please no! I don’t even know why we brought him, today was supposed to be for my birthday,” she whines a little, those pre-teen hormones working overtime. Two weeks from turning eleven, and you find yourself missing your baby girl more and more each day. She’s usually a pretty polite and delightful kid, but something about that upcoming eleventh birthday is creating that familiar teenage whine you’d been so good at back in the day. You should really call and apologize to your mother.

Max pipes up without taking his eyes off the action on the ice, “your birthday’s not even today!”

“Thank you, Max,” you hold a hand out in front of his face, covering his mouth, as Talia shoots him a glare. Max wiggles away from your hand, his head bobbing in every direction as he tries to see the players. “I should’ve known this would happen.” You pinch the bridge of your nose with your free hand.

The only reason Talia had picked this game for her birthday is because of Jack Cizikas’s last minute call up from the AHL. Her puppy crush on him is something you and Kristy like to joke about, but right now you’re not laughing. Casey, Kristy, Reese, and Cole are up in a suite with the grandparents for the moment and you should’ve just sent Max up there to join them, but your five-year-old is still a little clingy. He loves the Cizikas family, hero-worships ten-year-old Cole, but when you’d suggested it, his face had crumpled and he’d said, “I wanna stay with you, Mama!”

Who were you to argue with that?

“Okay, I’ll take Max with me, but Win,” you raise your voice and look down a few seats at Winnie Martin, the oldest of your babysitting charges at fifteen, “do not leave these seats until I get back, okay?”

Winnie grins at you, Matt’s smile copy and pasted onto her face. She gives you a little salute and nods, “you got it.”

Talia turns back to the girls, completely ignoring you, and you roll your eyes a little before holding out your hand to Max. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go get some snacks,” you say, savoring the feeling of his little hand in yours. You never know when he’ll start thinking he’s too cool for his mom, so you’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

“Can I get ice cream?” He asks, skipping along next to you. He gives Sparky a high five when you pass the mascot at the top of the stairs.

You laugh a little and point Sparky and his handler in the direction of the girls. “I’m sure Winnie will love to see you,” you say, nostalgia washing over you as you think about the early years of your relationship with Mat and Winnie’s love for the dragon. Sparky nods and gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up, before bounding down the stairs. It’s a different person in the costume now, obviously, but you all had made sure to keep Winnie humbled by making sure each iteration of the Sparky knew to stop and see her at a game. The teen plays along gamely, her mother’s daughter.

Max tugs on your hand, drawing your attention. “Mama! Can I get ice cream?” He repeats his request and you shake your head.

“Nope, sorry, kid. It’s past your sugar cutoff,” you shake his arm when he pouts and kicks his Nike against the floor, nearly tripping himself as he tries to keep walking. “I’ll split a pretzel with you though.”

“I don’t wanna pretzel,” he whines, dragging his feet as he traipses behind you. You dodge a few people, tugging Max along. He keeps whining a little, complaining under his breath, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose before squatting down so you’re at his eye level.

Max goes quiet, but his whole face scrunches up in annoyance and you smile softly. “If you have ice cream now, you’re not going to be able to sleep. And remember that Daddy’s coming on your field trip tomorrow so don’t you want to be well rested for that?” You raise an eyebrow at him while Max considers your explanation.

The line shifts forward while Max is considering and you smile awkwardly up at the family in line behind you, silently apologizing for not moving. The mother waves you off with a polite smile too. Solidarity.

“Can I have ice cream tomorrow then?” Max finally asks and negotiating with the tiny terrorist wasn’t on your to do list today, but you nod anyway, knowing it’ll bite you in the ass tomorrow.

“Yes, after your field trip you can have a little ice cream,” you stand up, knees creaking a bit, and move forward on the line. Matter settled, you hook your fingers in the back collar of Max’s Horvat jersey, worn because ‘Uncle Bo is the coolest!’ much to Mat’s annoyance and your amusement. At the self-serve counter, you grab five pretzels - even if Max doesn’t want to share, you still want a snack - and a Diet Coke, hoping for a quick burst of energy. You let go of Max’s jersey to fish your phone out of your back pocket and tap it against the reader.

“Okay, Max, back to -“ you cut yourself off, looking down at your side and not seeing Max. “Max? Oh, fuck. Where did he go?”

Your heart hammers in your chest, slight panic rising when you scan the concourse and don’t spot your kindergartener. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, the only thing keeping your panic at a reasonable level is the fact that Max was quite literally almost born in the arena and knows it better than anyone. Of course that also means he could be hiding literally anywhere and never be found.

“I…okay, think like Max,” you step off to the side, against the wall, so you can figure out what to do. “Where the hell is he going to go?”

The muffled cheers of the crowd filter through the arena, signifying that the Islanders have added to their lead late in the second. You smile faintly and, like a lightning bolt to the head, realize where Max wandered off to. Or where you hope he wandered off to.

You book it towards the Lab and the MSG broadcast set up, trying to see around the crowds of people that are leaving their seats now that the second period is over. Obviously, you can’t see anything around all the people and the closer you get to the main stairs, the more panic you’re starting to feel, thinking about the girls back at the seats and what you’ll do if Max isn’t with Mat.

Once the cameras and desk come into view, your entire body unclenches, Max is happily perched on Mat’s hip, chattering away with Shannon while Mat and Thomas discuss the second period’s play. The cameras are on and your son is broadcasting live on MSG. You wiggle your way through the little crowd of people around the set and get to the front, by the retractable belt barriers, and try to catch Mat’s eye.

The second he spots you, his entire expression changes, a delighted smile stretching across his face and his eyes crinkling up at the corners. He looks like a twenty-something again, not the nearly forty-year-old he actually is.

“Max!” You hiss, trying not to be heard. “Send him over here!” You wave your free hand at the duo, Diet Coke wedged under your arm and pretzels getting squished in your hand.

Mat shakes his head at you and Thomas and Shannon look over too, all three of them laughing. Mat turns back to the camera, Max smiling like the cat that got the canary. “My wife’s trying to get our broadcast sidekick back,” he says, laughing. Mat bounces Max in his arms. “But I think we’ll keep him around for his color commentary.”

“No, oh my god,” you shake your head and gesture for Max to come back to you. “Mat, stop it.”

“Max,” Mat turns to look at your son, totally ignoring you, “what did you think of the game so far?”

Embracing the fact that Mat’s going to let Max join them for a while at least, you sigh and relax into the moment, watching Max perk up as he gets to discuss his favorite thing.

“I missed Matt’s goal,” he complains, Matt Maggio must’ve been the one to score when you noticed Max was missing. “But I like Jack the best ‘cause he’s funny and plays mini sticks. And also he gave me a piggy-back all day at Easter.”

Shannon laughs and chimes in, “we like Jack around here too. But hey, Max, I can show you Matt’s goal while your dad and Thomas discuss some of the finer points of the game.”

Max wiggles out of Mat’s arms and darts around Thomas’s back so he can stand with Shannon and watch the goal he missed. You snap a picture of Max’s head poking over the desk, heart melting at the sheer excitement on his face. You also notice the dozen texts littering your phone’s screen - a multitude of laughing emojis sent from the girls while they watch at home.

The fans around you are clearly eating up Max’s presence and you feel a little spike of anxiety thinking about how exposed he is to the public now, after keeping his and Talia’s faces mostly hidden on your social media pages. It’s always a little inevitable that the kids are seen with Mat out in public, but you almost wish you could snatch up all the phones recording video and taking pictures of Max as he points something out to Shannon on the iPad.

You take a nervous bite out of your pretzel and try to just enjoy the moment until they go to commercial when you can duck under the belt barrier. Mat grins boyishly at you, grabbing your waist to pull you in for a quick kiss. “Well, this is fun,” he says, pulling back from the kiss. “Family broadcast.”

“He is so stupid sneaky,” you shake your head, offering Mat the pretzel that you’d taken a bite out of. He accepts it and tears off a piece of his own. “And fast.”

Thomas laughs, leaning his forearms on the desk. “That’ll be helpful when he’s zipping around defensemen and scoring goals,” he teases before going to say hi to the fans and take selfies.

“Mom, look!” Max pops up at your side, holding a puck. Where did he get that?

“Pretty cool,” you smile down at him and let Mat lift him back up onto his hip. Max’s long legs kick at Mat’s thighs. “Where’d you get that, bud?”

“From Dad when I got here,” Max chirps. “Can I stay? Cause I don’t wanna be with the girls.”

He cuddles up against Mat’s shoulder, the father-son duo wearing matching hangdog, pleading expressions on their faces. The day Mat taught both kids the look was the worst day of your life, weakening your already minimal willpower. This time you have to say no, interrupting Mat while he’s working is only cute for so long.

“Sorry, Maxy,” you reply sympathetically. “We have to get back to the girls, but we’ll see Dad right after the game.”

Max whines loudly, reminding you that he’s still only five, and you chew on the inside of your lip. Mat pats Max on the back and whispers something in his ear, the extra lighting catching on the few greys that are starting to form in Mat’s dark hair. You wait while Mat talks quietly to your son, trying not to worry about coming back from commercial while you’re all standing in the middle of everything. Eventually, Max huffs an exasperated sigh and wiggles out of Mat’s grip again, slumping his way over to your side.

You smirk a little, “gee, don’t look so thrilled to come hang with your mom.”

Mat laughs and you roll your eyes at him.

“I wanted to stay with Dad,” Max pouts, little fingers gripping tightly onto the puck. “But he said that he’d take me to the locker room if I go with you.”

“Bribery,” Mat winks at you. “A dad’s best weapon.”

The ten second warning that the commercial is ending blinks and you grab Max’s hand, “okay, time to go back to the girls. We’ll see Dad later, okay?”

Max waves at Mat as you guide him away from the set. “Bye, Dad! Don’t forget I wanna see Jack and the locker room,” he shouts and you can hear Mat’s laughter boom over the noise of the crowd.

“I won’t forget Max, be good for Mom,” Mat calls out.

You hurry back to your seats, Max hopping along and waving to people as you go. He gives big, cheerful greetings to the ushers and security guards he recognizes, forcing you to stop when Sparky passes by so he can give the mascot a high-five and a hug around the legs.

“Max, baby, please. We can see Sparky later,” you sigh, a little worried about leaving the girls alone for so long. You know they’ll listen and not leave the seats, but you feel vaguely like a terribly mother/babysitter since they’ve been sitting by themselves for nearly twenty minutes.

Max pouts, but takes a hold of the hand you’re holding out for him and dutifully follows you back to the seats. He clambers over the couple at the end of the row and you apologize quickly for him, making another mental note to work on the kid’s manners.

“Where did you go?” Talia pops up in her seat like a meerkat, wrinkling her face at you in confusion. “We thought you, like, got kidnapped!”

“We didn’t get kidnapped,” you huff, passing around the pretzels. The girls thank you and turn back to the on-ice intermission action. Max reaches for your half eaten one too and you’re glad you at least got a bite in earlier. “Max ran off to see Dad.”

Max grins at his sister, mouth full of chewed pretzel. “Dad gave me a puck and I got to be on TV with him,” he manages to sound smug and excited all at the same time, waving the gifted puck in one hand.

Talia pouts a little, still childish despite how she tries to mimic the older girls.

“Eat your pretzel,” you twirl your finger to get her to look back at the ice. “There are a thousand pucks at home. Oh,” you add, “we’re going to head down to the locker room after the game. Dad promised Max.”

That gets the girls going, chattering about how they get to see Jack and the rest of the players, giggling like crazy while huddled together. You lean back in your seat, smiling softly at how cute they all are. Max is on his feet, dancing along to the arena music, waving both hands in the air - your little party animal. You send Mat a video of him dancing, teasing that father and son have the same moves.

He shoots back a gif of himself dancing at the Martins’ wedding more than fifteen years ago, making you laugh out loud, drawing the attention of all five kids. “Ignore me,” you laugh, waving a hand at them.

Another message from Mat vibrates your phone: leave the kids with marts and syd when you drop the girls off after the game, i wanna show you more of my moves 👀

Giggling like a high schooler with a crush, you take a minute to appreciate that Mat still makes you feel floaty and dizzy with love. Over ten years together and he still makes your heart skip a beat.

“Mom,” Talia’s voice slices through your thoughts, “what’s Dad saying? Because you look so weird.”

Schooling your features into a more neutral expression, you lean forward over the seat and ask, “how do you guys feel about a sleepover at Aunt Syd and Uncle Matt’s?”

[likedovesinthewindd]

can u write something where reader and art have an argument but then after a while they make up with some you know 😛😛😛😛 do whatever u what with this

The two of you have barely been on speaking terms, and your one word responses and avoidance were beginning to eat at Art. He wasn't used to you being this angry at him for this long, and the silent treatment was already moving on to its second day.

He could barely remember what the argument was initially about, but he knew he said some things in the heat of the moment that definitely weren't necessary, and he wished he could take it all back the second he could see the hurt in your eyes. He longed to hear your voice again. To hear you laugh and to touch you again, so by the third day, he had decided he was going to win your forgiveness by any means necessary.

That evening, he finds you cooking in the kitchen when he returns from practice, quietly stirring at a pot as your head gently nods to the music softly playing from the radio you keep in the kitchen. He comes up behind you, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck as he wraps his arms around you and greets you. You hum a half-hearted greeting, attention still on the task at hand.

"How was practice?" you ask, and for a moment he gets excited, thinking maybe this was your way of finally raising the white flag, but you still don't look at him as you speak and keep stirring at the pot. He realizes you're only asking him out of courtesy. "It was alright," he spoke softly, warm breath tickling your neck as you felt his hands grab at the fat of your hips. "Missed you though," he tries, mouth now planting kisses to the side of your neck and down the expanse of skin.

You try to act unfazed by his attention, but you could already feel the fuzzy heat in your lower tummy as his strong hands grab at you almost hungrily. Still, you keep up a front and only give an incredulous hum at his words. "You still mad at me?" he asks, and you shrug. In response, his hands continue their journey, rubbing over your stomach as he gets a feel of the silk of your nightie.

"I'm sorry for what I said, sweetheart," he finally says, one hand underneath your right breast as the other rested on your lower stomach. He places a few more kisses in the dip of your shoulder.

"You said some really mean things, Art," you say, sparing him a look over his shoulder, and his sad eyes almost make you fold completely, relief washing over his features when you finally look at him. "I know, and I feel awful," he quickly replies, his grip on you tightening as if he's afraid you'll dissappear.

"I wanna make it up to you," he says softly, "wanna show you how sorry I am."

His voice sends a chill down your spine, your grip on the wooden spoon and pot handle tightening before you leave both. You turn down the dial on the stove before turning around in Art's grip. He holds you closer, hands rubbing at your back as your hands hold onto his face. He looks absolutely ruined, eyes wet and pleading like a kicked puppy. Your thumbs rub over the apples of his cheek softly.

"Make it up to me, Art," you breathe softly and like that he's on you.

Not long after the words leave your mouth, you're in your shared bedroom, your legs wrapped tightly around Art's lithe waist as he fucked you into the mattress. He's hitting that spot every time he bottoms out, making your legs shake and your eyes roll into the back of your head as your breathy moans fill the room. "So fuckin pretty," Art whines as he looks down at you, words slurred together as he watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust. "C'mon sweetheart, wanna see you cum."

You moan at his words, nodding dumbly as you feel the liquid heat pooling in your lower tummy. "I'm so close, baby. I'm gonna cum," you moan and he doubles his efforts, hand moving down your body to rub your throbbing clit. A few swipes of his fingers paired with thrusts deep enough to knock your breath away and you're cumming hard, vision blurring as your mouth opens in a silent moan before a low whine leaves your mouth. Art's not far behind, giving a few uneven thrusts before he's pulling out and cumming all over your stomach and tits.

He immediately kisses at your warmly flushed face, waiting as you catch your breath before his lips finally meet yours in a searing kiss that has you breathless once again. He pulls away and looks down at your fucked face, a sheen of sweat covering your body. "Am I forgiven?" he asks softly, and you give him a warm smile, nodding before pulling him into another kiss.

[pandalorian36]

Azriel x reader

A night in a shared hotel room leads to confessions of love.

Word count:2260 Warnings: possessive Azriel, some suggestivness at the end

(Stunning night court divider by @tsunami-of-tears)

I joined the night court long ago, I don't really remember what happened but I was only just an adult when Rhys, Azriel and Cassian found me stumbling about in the snow with no memory of how I got there. They took me in and I found good friends among the court as they became my family. Finding my own magic and skills. I am fast and strong able to beat most in a fight. People learn the hard way not to underestimate me.

Groaning I follow Az into the battered inn shaking the snow from my clothes and feathery wings. The fluffy flakes have stuck to some of the feathers meaning I have to manually brush them off. Azriel stomps back over a singular key dangling from his hand "They only have one room." I shrug shivering "Long as its warm I don't care."

He huffs slightly and starts up the stairs having to stoop under the doorway. The room itself is tiny Az taking up a shocking amount of space, it consists of a small bathroom and a small double bed squashed against the wall and a dresser with a rickety looking chair but its clean and relatively warm.

I am too tired to argue about anything and drop my bag on the dresser peeking into the bathroom there is no way I can fit in the bath with my wings let alone Azriel who is significantly taller. I remove my jacket and begin to fill the sink with no hot water I make it quick scrubbing the dirt from my hands an arms before leaving the bathroom for Azriel.

I hear the water start followed by a large bout of swearing. I bite my lip to stop my laugh I forgot to warn him about the hot water situation. Minutes later he emereges hair dripping and shirtless. "Little cold?" he glares but light shines in his eyes so there is no malice behind it. I tuck my wings in and sit on the edge of the bed "I don't mind sharing. The floor is far too cold."

Az doesn't respond so I turn onto my side getting as close to the wall as I can so he has plenty of space. The bed is not built for those with wings let alone someone of Az's size, the bed dips significantly under his weight making me laugh as I slide into his side "Hello." he rolls his eyes slightly and adjusts his weight so the mattress evens out once more allowing me to move back to where I was.

The room is freezing the thin blanket offering little warmth. I fall into a light sleep exhaustion winning over. Before I fully wake I feel a sense of warmth and content moving closer to the source of heat I find its difficult to move a weight on one of my wings.

Blinking I find I am facing Azriels chest, it takes a moment to fully comprehend our position. One of his wings is under my side another draped over the top while my own almost mirror wrapping around him. His shadows are also wrapped around the both of us twining our limbs together. Azriel grunts slightly his whole body stretching out and I freeze terrified of moving. I'm trapped until he moves his weight.

I look up and find Azriel already awake staring straight back his face bright red. I think its the first time I've ever seen him blush. We both try and pull apart in a tangle of limbs failing completly when he ends up on his back with you sprawled on his chest faces inches apart. Blushing furiously you scrambled up managing to free yourself and fall onto the floor. Knowing how much he struggles with physical contact you stand "Az I'm sorry I didn't. I don't."

He stands combing a hand through his hair still visibly blushing"Its fine." His shadows are dancing around the room wrapping around my legs and arms chuckling slightly I glance down heat instantly rushing to my face as I notice Azriel's situation. Quickly I return my gaze to his face "I'm going to change." Hurridly I enter the bathroom filling the basin with water to splash on my face.

Its true you I have always harboured a crush on the stoic illyrian. He is handsome, kind and though people rarely see it has a wonderful sense of humour. Everything about him draws me in but I have never said anything not wanting to ruin our friendship. It took Azriel longer than the others to trust you but I spent a lot of time proving yourself to him.

Taking a deep breath I exit the bathroom finding Azriel fully clothed and surrounded in shadows. "Bathroom is free." he nods not saying a word as he finishes packing. I pack my own bag slowly and officantly putting my two short swords into place finished by the time Azriel reappears shaking water from his hair I smile slightly "Looks like the storm has passed we should be back in Velaris by this evening."

He nods and grabs his bag remaining silent. I put it down to embarrasment and don't pry following him silently out the room and out into the woods. There is a clean blanket of snow over everything the tiny ice crystals blinking in the sunlight. I smile brightly and expand my wings taking off into the early morning sky the soft flakes fluttering slightly as I move.

Az joins me in the sky the two of us heading towards Velaris. Cassian is first to greet us at the house of wind grinning broadly "Welcome home." before either of us can react he has thrown a snowball hitting Az square in the face. I bite my lip coughing to hide a laugh as Azriel wipes the snow from his face scowling at his brother. A shadow whips out wrapping around his ankle sending Cassian crashing too the floor.

Mor and Rhys walk into the room Rhys shaking his head looking dissapointed "You are back less than five minutes and already fighting?" Cassian grins standing up "I couldn't resist." Mor rolls her eyes "Didn't you get it all out your system last week?" Rhys chuckles "Cas is still sore that he lost. Az, Y/N anything to report?"

We both shake our heads and he nods "Excellent I still want a written report for tomorrow though." Cassian grins "Get caught in the storm last night?" I smile "We stayed at an inn. Didn't want to risk flying in it." he nods solemnly "Very wise." I roll my eyes at him shooting a smile at Azriel "I'm going home I'll send my report this evening. Bye Cass."

Cassian waves flopping down on one of the sofas while I fly home and sink into the bathtub glad for the warm water and space. Changing into comfortable trousers and shirt I sit at my desk and write out my report sending it directly to the house of wind by magic.

Azriel seems to be avoiding me over the coming days at training, dinners always finding excuses to leave the room when I enter. After a week the others begin to catch on Cass and Rhys cornering me after a dinner "What is going on?" I stare up at them confused "Sorry?" Rhys sighs "With Azriel."

I sigh rubbing my forehead "I have no idea. Every time I try and talk to him he finds an excuse to leave. Believe me if I knew what I had done I would apologise for it."

Cassian raises a brow "So hes ignoring you for no reason?" I sigh "I don't know he's been ignorning me since the inn..." Cassian gasps "Did something happen with you two?" I shake my head "No, nothing really. There was only one room left so we ended up sharing a bed but nothing happened."

Rhys grins sharing a look with his brother before leaving I watch them leave confused before shaking my head and heading home. Unlocking the door I remove all jewlery and kick my shoes off to the side jumping when there is a knock at the door.

I open it slowly finding Az his shadows dancing around him as he fidgets with his hands "Azriel?" I cross my arms sighing "Ready to explain why you've been ignoring me? Look if I did anything to offend you I'm sorry. I..."

"You haven't done anything." I must look shocked as he sighs deeply "I'm sorry. May I come in?" I step back allowing him in before shutting the door leaning against it. Az looks uncomfortable his shadows constantly moving around as he shifts his weight.

"Az what is going on you've been ignorning me since the Inn." he sighs taking a step closer "I didn't handle it well I'm sorry. I feel very strongly about you but never wished to pressure you into anything. I know you don't feel the same way..."

"Don't feel the same way," I laugh "Az I'm crazy about you." his face blanks and I take a step closer "Is that why you've been avoiding me? You thought I didn't like you?" He shrugs his shadows winding closer and I can sense there is something else he isn't telling me. I step closer taking one of his hands in mine slowly tracing the scars.

I look up meeting his gaze, he leans down slowly almost nervous as his lips brush against mine. I wrap my arms around his neck his sliding around my waist deepening the kiss. Heat floods through my body electricity shooting through my veins as something inside clicks into place something that feels like home, like a piece I've been missing. I don't know how I missed it my mind becomes clearer Azriel filling every gap.

My whole body sings mate. Azrael wraps his hands under my thighs pulling me up, I wrap my legs around his waist every fibre of my body wanting him, needing him. He pulls away pupils blown growling low "Mate." both of our chests are heaving as he leans in kissing me again moaning against my lips. "Mine."

I moan in response pulling away for air brushing hair out of his face his shadows twining around my arms tickling my skin, I frown kissing him gently this time "You knew didn't you?"

He nods grip tightening on my thighs as he backs me into the nearest wall "I knew from the moment we first met." he presses a kiss on my jaw working his way along speaking between kisses "I have loved you for years never knowing how you felt."

"I never told anyone." I run my fingers through his hair pressing kisses along his cheeks "You kept it to yourself all this time?" he locks his gaze with mine shadows playing with my hair "When you didn't react to the bond I thought I was wrong. But the longer I spent around you I knew I was correct. When ever you weren't around I missed you, when ever Rhys sent you on a mission I worried. I felt drawn to you at every moment wanting too kill any male who got too close."

He runs his hands up my sides "I wanted to tell you. I didn't know how." He kisses my cheeks "I'm shouldn't have kept it from you. I understand if you're mad." I smile blinking back tears "I'm not mad Az. I love you. Have loved you for years."

He tilts his head to the side "Why didn't you say anything? I thought you where ignorning our bond its why I never acted on it." I shake my head tighting my grip on him "No. Az I had no idea. You really thought I was ignoring you?" I sniff willing the tears not to fall "I could never do that to you. I promise you I didn't know. I think it something to do with my memory loss but I don't know. All I know is that you are mine. My mate and I love you with every fibre of my being."

Smiling softly he leans his forehead against mine shutting his eyes "My soul belongs to you Y/N L/N. Every part of me is yours." I cup his face bringing his lips to mine in a soft kiss pouring every ounce of my love into it before pulling away grinning "I believe I owe you a meal." he shakes his head slightly peppering kisses down my throat "Later."

I smirk pushing him away "No we are going to do this properly. You can control yourself for a little longer spy master." I nip at his ear making him growl while you jump to the floor walking through to your kitchen. Azriel slinks after you his shadows wrapped tightly around me waist carassing every inch of skin that is visible while I try and focus on what I am doing.

"Y/N you are testing my patience." I chuckle and turn around an apple in hand "And I thought patience was your strong suit. Do not fret spymaster I have no desire on making you wait." he glowers but takes the apple I offer biting into it and chewing painfully slowly.

He doesn't bother with the rest placing it on the counter smirking "Now I have waited long enough mate." his voice drops dangerously low as he backs me into the counter giving you a look that makes you weak in the knees "You are all mine." ...

[lovemyavatar]

Tag

| Lo’ak x F!Avatar!Reader |

(Star Girl Deleted Scene)

takes place between chapter 4 and 5

Lo’ak’s chest swells with something warm as he watches you from across the clearing.

He can’t help the grin that overtakes his face as you run in a big circle, head thrown back with a hearty laugh. Tuk is hot on your heels, giggling like a mad-woman as her little hands grasp for your tail. You turn suddenly, and she screams, now fleeing from you instead.

His heart races, duties completely forgotten as he’s unable to look away from you playing with his sister. Over the last several weeks, you’ve blossomed. Your training is starting to stick. You’ve been weaving your own clothing and accessories, you’re able to climb higher than ever before, run faster.

You’re finding your place within the clan, and it makes his heart soar with pride.

It makes his mind wander, forbidden thoughts of claiming you as his growing hard to ignore. At all hours, he imagines what it would be like. To love you, and be loved by you. You’ve wormed your way under his skin, left a permanent indentation in his soul that he’s afraid he’ll never be able to remove.

“She is dangerous.” A sudden rough voice interrupts his fantasies.

His eyes cut to the side, landing on a very tense Neteyam. His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, brows furrowed with unease as he watches the same scene. Lo’ak sighs deeply, turning away from his brother with a frown.

“Oh yeah, looks real threatening.” He quips, irritated already.

Neteyam has made it a personal mission to hate you, despite how much you’ve been trying to sway his opinion. He refuses to look past who you are, past his own outdated prejudice, unwilling to even try. It grates on Lo’ak’s nerves, drives a wedge between them that’s never been there before.

“I meant for you, baby bro.” His voice softens slightly as his gaze sweeps toward him knowingly.

Heat prickles at Lo’ak’s skin, and he refuses to meet the pointed stare. He needs to be more careful, he realizes, if he wants to keep you safe. Not everyone in the clan is as open minded as him, most of all his mother. If she were to find out about his affections…

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The diversion is weak, barely a whisper as he’s already been caught ogling you.

“Please,” Neteyam shifts on his feet, rolling his eyes toward the sky in annoyance. “Just be careful.”

With that, he disappears as quickly as he’d come. Lo’ak sighs dejectedly, knowing that his brother’s reservations come from a good place. But still, he’s too far gone, there’s nothing that could change his mind about you now. He’s deep within a sea of infatuation, but he simply holds his breath, diving further into the waves.

A laugh bubbles in your chest, legs moving quickly as you dodge a tiny set of hands. She tugs against your tail lightly and you spin, throwing your arms up in a dramatic show of defeat.

“You got me again.” A sigh falls from your lips as you feign a tinge of sadness.

She surprises you by scrunching her little face as she stomps her foot into the ground, hands balling into fists at her sides.

“You’re letting me win!” She yells in frustration.

Your eyes pop wide at the unexpected shift in her demeanor. “I am not!”

Her lips purse firmly, ready to argue again, when Lo’ak suddenly appears, sending her a warm smile that seems to soothe her instantly. He kneels at her side, a strong arm wrapping around her shoulders.

“It’s true, Tuk, she really is that slow.” His voice is light, teasing as his gaze lifts to you.

“It’s not my fault all my teacher wants to do is wander through the forest.” Your chin dips, glimmering eyes boring into his tauntingly.

Heat swells in his lower belly, heart rate doubling as the simple look lights him up. “Tracking, Y/N, we’re tracking.”

Tuk’s eyes jump between you, annoyed that both your attention is locked on each other rather than her. She suddenly twists out of his gentle hold, palms shoving against his chest playfully.

“Fine, then you’re it, Lo’ak!” She quickly runs away, laughing again already.

His eyes remain on yours for a long moment, searing a path straight to the place between your legs. Warmth blankets your face, heart instantly thrumming against your ribs. Then, the sweltering heat is gone as he jumps to his feet, chasing his sister with a grin.

You’re left standing there, a dumb smile on your face, watching him just the same as he’d been watching you.

taglist:

@bajadotcom @darksxder @fanboyluvr @dakotali @kaymarnun @mxshrooms009 @violet-violenc @neteyamforlife @cleverzonkwombatsludge @dazecrea @lcovelymaria @faeraella @bxbyalixo @nurayastories @emoballs69 @little-bunnybabe @callsignhotshot @idga-fudgeicle @alexandra-001 @avidreader3107 @goddesslilithmoriarty @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @gwolf92 @danyxthirstae01 @dreamimix @dreamersbelieveinus @lovekeeho @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @abbersreads @jakesullyssluttt @keii-nn @hopelesslydevotedloser @quest-for-pluto @liyahsocorro @wingedghostpepper @ricecakeslove @gretesstuff @deserticwren @behindthearcane @neteyams-wifee @tomhreader @eywas-heir @lovedbychoi @b0rednb1tchy @neqeyam

@jackiehollanderr @belos-simp69 @daeneeryss @mazemymirror

[riddle-me-ri]

A/N: asdfgg finally dipping my toes into another fandom. Not sure how long this fixation will last but damnit if I don't see a grumpy sarcastic hot traumatized character and I do not get attached (by no means am I an apologist just a simp lmao and I am a sucker for deep characters) 

For anyone reading this purely from the atsv fandom. Hey hi hello, I'm Ri, I'm usually known for DC stuff but I'm an all around whore nerd (meh both) and I was inspired by atsv as I'm sure all of us were and just couldn't not like do something with the ideas in my head lmao so go easy on me friendos but glad to to see you here and thanks for reading! Also new banner who dis? New fandom new banner…may or may not change lmao

Trigger Warning: None, maybe some angst if you squint? Overall just a fluffy wee dream because those are always fun.

Word Count: 713

Miguel O'Hara x Reader - Just a Dream

The sun beamed down on you as you practically roasted on the metal bleachers. It was too hot to not wear shorts but it also was too hot to not have some kind of protection for your thighs. 

A man beside you chuckled as you played hot potato between each thigh trying to keep one body part from getting more burned than the other. 

The man was a looming figure to say the least. His cheekbones caused his eyes to slightly squint as he continued to be amused at your discomfort. 

"I swear, I don't know how you're wearing a long sleeve shirt in this weather." 

"It's light colored, it doesn't attract the sun." He responded. 

"Still, how are you not hot?" 

"Amor, I'm always hot. You should know this." 

He chuckled as you rolled your eyes at him. He patted the top of his thighs conveniently protected by a pair of thin sweatpants. 

"You also know, you can always sit here." 

You nudged him and he faked a hurt whimper. 

"I will not embarrass our daughter like that." 

He nods as he puts his hands up in mock surrender. Completely out of ideas to protect your skin from the scorching metal.

You groaned, opting to sit where the denim met the metal. Even if you were practically about to fall out of your seat. You tried to distract yourself by watching the girl's soccer game in front of you. You kept your eyes peeled for a certain little girl in particular.

You reluctantly couldn't deny the girl was the spitting image of her father, the man beside you teasing you. Even though she was just as much yours as she was his. 

Still she was very much a daddy's girl. 

Soon you were saved from the bleachers as you stood up to applaud your daughter for scoring the winning goal for her team.  

Down on the field, laughing and smiling, celebrating. You were recording the victorious day on your phone. Your daughter, Gabriela was nestled proudly upon her father's shoulders with a cupcake in hand. 

Her dad opened his mouth to mention something only to be interrupted by a cupcake being planted on his cheek followed by the sweetest squealing fit of giggles. 

You and him both join in, not sure if it's from the humorous sight of frosting on his neatly cut cheekbones or her laughter being that infectious. 

"All right, well, piggyback privileges have been officially revoked." He brought his arms up to lift her up off his shoulders and safely place her down. 

She took a satisfied bite from her cupcake, still giggling proudly. 

He looked up to face you but ended up looking straight into your camera. 

He chuckled some more before muttering, "all right, that's enough." 

You put the camera away still giggling. You went up and scooped some of the frosting off his cheek and onto your finger. You put the finger in your mouth, tasting it. 

"Not bad..not bad…could do without the sweat though.." You commented as if you were a food critic. 

This caused your daughter to double over again in laughter. 

"Well, sweet and salty frosting is an acquired taste." He quipped. 

More snickers can be heard just below. 

You nodded to let Gabriela run off to talk to her teammates as her dad reached up to wipe the decadent frosting off his cheek. 

You leaned in and gave him a kiss on his once messy cheek. "Ah that's better." You giggled. 

He beamed down at you, a soft sweet smile. "Ah, that can be better-" 

He curled his finger just below your chin to raise your lips up closer to his. 

You smiled as you leaned in for a kiss–

You sit up, your alarm blaring on your bedside table. You quickly snatched your phone to turn it off. 

You cursed under your breath. Same dream…same damn dream. And the same two people…a little girl…at least you got her name, eventually, Gabriela. But the man…your…dream husband?…Her father…was still a mystery. 

It couldn't be a coincidence, they…they felt so vivid…like they were memories…

The soccer games, birthday parties, breakfasts, anniversaries, dinners…it's like you lived some double life in your dream.

But that's all they got to be right? 

Just a dream?

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟐

Summary: Your journey is quickly put to an end. Everybody put your love for Aemond to the test.

Warning: angst, mention of rape Masterlist (Part 21 - Part 23)

A/N: Fire & Blood spoilers. (yes, spoiled myself, will regret it later in 2024, hope I forget until then.) [update: I won't.]

You could clearly witness the decline the war had on Aemond’s temper and spirit as he was struggling through his grief and wrath, the former an emotion he refused to display to anyone. His paranoia and fierceness had doubled and you could see what Daeron had meant when he had shared with you his concern about your husband’s previous behaviour during combat, mercilessly killing and burning everything on his path.

You had gone through a big argument with Aemond when he had forced you to leave. You could not find the strength to leave him after everything that happened, as you feared that you may have little time left with him now. But he has been deaf to your plea. Only when you witnessed his anger shift into something else entirely, not able to hold back his concerned and exhausted features, lips trembling and unable to utter another word as you challenged him, that you had yielded to his demand. You had understood then, what he was sacrificing. He was taking you out of the picture, he had too. He was shutting down everything he cared for in order to win the war. To protect his family. For you. For your child. You would do as commanded.

Aemond had sent you away in the utmost secrecy.

You had passed the Lion Gate in disguise, without encountering any trouble, Ser Marston leading the way and your assigned lady-in-waiting, Lady Wormwood, closing the march and always glancing around like she feared an attack at any moment. And she had been right.

After an hour on the road, following the Nera west, three distinct sounds of hooves made the Kingsguard glance back and draw his sword at once. But the three riders were on you in an instant at gallop speed, slashing Ser Marston’s horse, making him fall on the ground in an agonising neigh. Lady Wormwood screamed, her horse prancing as the two other riders surrounded yours, preventing you from moving as the knight screamed for you to escape. After that everything had gone fast.

Ser Marston was on the ground, struggling to slide from under his horse as he groaned in pain, stopped by this assailant’s sword pointed at his neck. You were lifted from your horse by one of the two other men, and forced to sit with him.

You struggled and screamed, but the road was deserted, and you saw your lady-in-waiting being shoved off her horse and bound by the third man, a gag put over her mouth.

You were still able to cry out but one of the men yelled to leave the other woman, allowing you to punch your captor in the stomach. He groaned and immediately restrained your arms, putting you close against him. You felt something hit you hard on your skull, and then all was black.

You heard the sound of water, dripping. Blurry memories came back to you, the sensation of being laid on a shaking ground, laying on hard wood, voices around that you could not understand. Your head throbbed, and more memories came. The sound of hooves, the screams of a woman, and now you could clearly hear the clashing of waves. You opened your eyes.

Bright light made you blink, and hunger was making you feel like a knot had been tied in your stomach.

“Try to sit up slowly Y/N.” came a voice over the side of the bed you were in. You blinked again.

“Rhaena?”

The girl smiled at you, squeezing the cloth she had dipped into water to put it over your forehead. You welcomed the feeling as you took in your surroundings.

You were in a chamber with high windows, and although you could not see it, you could hear the waves falling onto the shore.

“Where am I?” you asked, panic slowly filling you.

“Driftmark. Do not worry, no one will come for you here.”

You watched her incredulously as she put the cloth aside and took your hand. You were still processing what was happening, feeling like you were at Dragonstone again, enjoying Rhaena’s, Baela’s, Jace’s and Luke’s presence, your friends. But your breath got stuck in your lungs and you jerked up your head to her, eyes wide as you realised that you were not supposed to be here. You had been taken. You were now in Black territory.

“Rhaena, what will happen to me?”

“Rhaena is with her at this moment,” entered Ser Lorent, the Lord Commander of the Queensguard after making sure that his kin was in good hands.

“This is all very well but why bring her here, to Driftmark?” asked Daemon in a slight appalled tone, looking at his wife and in parallel, to his previous lover, the White Worm.

“The Greens won’t expect us to bring her here, if they even find out she is gone, they will turn to Dragonstone,” had answered Rhaenyra, who was anxiously glancing at her son who had not said a word since you had arrived.

“If they ever find out?” Daemon repeated. “Surely they know already! What about her companions?”

“They both had been safely tucked away,” spoke the White Worm. “They won’t be able to report back at all. For all we know, the Greens still believe that she is on her way to her destination. This was an unofficial journey.”

All around the table nodded in agreement, all except one.

Ulf the White was deeply thinking, not missing a single word of what was said about you, the alleged “stolen jewel” of Prince Aemond Targaryen. Ulf, the latest addition to the Black force, the new rider of the dragon Silverwing, was an ambitious man, greedy. But for now, he only listened.

“I thought we were planning on rescuing her from King’s Landing, not abduct her!” Jacaerys finally spoke, waving an angry hand towards the Mistress of Whisperers.

“I had to act fast. Make a drastic choice,” she answered, tone cold. “Time was running out and nothing indicated that she would have followed without resistance as we were not able to contact her beforehand.”

Jacaerys held her gaze, not satisfied. Daemon put a stop to their feud.

“This was unnecessary. The Kinslayer does not bother causing bloodshed, why would we? We have what they want, a leverage, a chance for us to take Vhagar out in the open and get rid of. Why not use it? They will know she is gone soon enough anyway.”

“No.” Came the plain answer of the Black Queen, arguing with her clan again. She sighed. “She will remain hidden until we decide what to do. We cannot show our hand until then. Our success in the usurper’s death changes everything, we have to assess how they react first, then act in consequences.”

Daemon smirked in frustration, tapping on the hilt of his sword with his fingers.

“I think sending his own wife away shows quite clearly how panicked the little murderer is, we should strike now.”

“I want to talk to her,” intervened Jacaerys.

“You will not,” answered her mother at once. “I gave specific instructions to Rhaena to come find me as soon as she wakes up. I need to know where she stands.”

Jacaerys looked up at her, fuming, but said nothing as he lowered his head in obedience. It was at this moment Daemon’s daughter chose to enter.

“She is awake.”

As he watched the Queen leave the room, Ulf the White’s plan took form more clearly in his mind.

You had remained in your room, freezing, arms around your knees, wondering what will become of you now. Rhaena had reassured you, telling you that nobody was willing to harm you here, that she felt sorry for what had happened to you while you were at the Greens’ mercy and that the Black Queen would remedy that. You did not have the strength to contradict her, to tell her that what you had been through, what you had lived with Aemond, all of it, had been by choice, that you regretted nothing. You had, however, shed a tear when you thought about the affection you still held for the Blacks. For Jacaerys and Baela. You only remained silent, unable to think, unable to move as Rhaena stood up and left the room.

You stared into emptiness as you shivered, your head dreading the moment Aemond would learn of your disappearance, and your imagination went wild as every scenario coming into your mind were as horrifying as the next, feeling utterly powerless. You could not be here. You belonged with him. With Aemond.

The door creaked open and you raised your head to see none other than the Black Queen enter, alone. She took a moment to glance at you before gently closing the door, walking up to you.

You could see how much the war had tired her, how much her features had changed in the span of only a few months, how much every decision and every loss she had endured had led her to a dark path she could not back away from. She was the Queen, rider of Syrax daughter of the late King Viserys, the Targaryen’s dynasty on her shoulders.

“Where is Ser Marston? And Lady Wormwood?” you spoke as soon as you were able.

“Do not fret, they are all safe. As you are.”

“A prisoner,” you concluded.

Rhaenyra stared at you before lowering herself on the chair at your side, where Rhaena had been before.

“I am sorry for what happened to you. But you are not a prisoner, we always cared about you Y/N. My only regret is letting you go to Storm’s End that day.”

You stopped a tear from rolling on your cheek, the thought of the last moment you had spent with her son, with Lucerys, vivid in your mind again. You were sure Rhaenyra was thinking of it too. Her regrets were not about you, but you shared your grief with her anyway.

“I did not wish for any of this to happen to him-. I-” you sobbed, lips trembling, exhaustion taking the better of you. Rhaenyra reached for your face tenderly.

“I know my child, I know. This is not your fault. They will pay for their treachery. For their crimes. The Greens will have what they deserve.”

Her eyes had hardened as she said this last piece, and your dread came back, emerging like a weapon raising inside your heart.

“Will you not spare them?” you had asked, gaze almost imploring. The Queen frowned a bit.

“Y/N, they used you for your father’s support, robbing me of the best councillor my father had. The Kinslayer kidnapped you from a family you were meant to marry. You must find it in your heart to see how wrong their deeds are. Whatever pity or compassion you feel for them, this is not real.”

“Not real?” you spoke harshly. “Do you truly believe that such emotions can be fabricated?”

Your voice was trembling with disbelief, the words of the woman in front of you sounding false. But Rhaenyra looked at you worryingly before grabbing your hand swiftly, squeezing it in an attempt to bring you to her own reality.

“What you feel is merely a tool you had to use in order to survive, and slowly it has blinded your judgement. You will come to realise it soon enough as you find yourself again.”

You shook your head in contestation, tears finally rolling free.

“My judgement is not blinded, and my compassion, my love is real, it has always been real. You of all people should understand, your Grace. We do not choose who we love, we are only doomed to yearn for it.”

She looked at you slightly appalled, her lips parting. She was bracing herself for your words to come out, the hard truth.

“Did you ever doubt your feelings to be real when you fell in love with the man you were forbidden to marry? Thought it to be naught when your desires for that same man, who had always desired your birthright, claimed your seat and your brother’s egg, still lingered?”

You watched her face decompose slowly. You carried on.

“Did your affection ever falter as he abandoned you when you needed him the most? In those moments, did you not wish that you could make those feelings disappear, and be done with it?”

You remembered when you had thought Aemond to be the father of the twins. You remembered when you had learned that he was to be betrothed to another. You remembered when he had been the one to hold your heart hostage. Always.

“In the end of your Grace, we cannot control it,” you concluded, your voice only a whisper. “No matter what we do, we will always love them more than anything they could ever do wrong.”

Rhaenyra remained silent, lips in a thin line. Everything you just told strongly resonated within her as she realised that you had chosen your path, even if it meant suffering. But deep down, she understood, and blamed the Mother to have indulged upon you the curse of loving Aemond Targaryen, the murderer who did not deserve any kind of affection. Her hatred came back in waves at the thought.

“Aemond murdered my son,” she whispered coldly as sole response, her heart still beating from your words. Your eyes shifted into deep sorrow as you gathered the courage to talk about that dreadful event.

“It was an accident-.”

“Lies!”

She was now on her feet, fists clenched at her sides, and the abrupt movement had startled you to the point that you brought your hand to rest protectively on your belly. You saw her gaze lowering to it, and her eyes widened for a moment.

“Is he the father?” she asked you under her breath, eyes searching yours in eagerness.

You said nothing, ignoring her question as you stubbornly set your gaze aside, but it was answer enough.

Rhaenyra inhaled sharply, nodding to herself. She joined her hands gracefully as she attempted to let nothing appear in her voice, regal as always.

“I am sorry my child, for I understand your pain,” she began walking to the door. “For the sake and my respect for you and your father, you will be treated as a guest, and well cared for.”

“Please, your Grace, my father is still loyal to you, do not blame him for what he had to do. Do not forsaken him, as I did," you implored, hoping to make your case, like you had promised. Her face flashed with gratitude for a moment, and what you thought was affection. But then she left, leaving you with the dreadful realisation that you had burned all of your chances to remain unharmed by revealing your loyalty, your love.

Ulf the White was a Targaryen bastard, but he knew his worth, that he was meant for greatness, and he had just accomplished that. He rode Silverwing, and had been given lands on Driftmark along with his knighthood, thus his frequent presence in the stronghold.

Hugh Hammer, his counterpart and himself, had much in common: ambitious, fierce, and most of all they had made themselves indispensable for the Blacks, for Hammer was the new rider of the great Vermithor, the late King Jaehaerys’ dragon. Hugh Hammer was, too, not satisfied with his knighthood, even desiring what Ulf thought unreachable. But the Dragonseed would let him dream, seeing an opportunity in their alliance, as equally as he saw an opportunity in you.

He had seen you around the corridors from time to time, protected and watched by your blood, Ser Lorent Marbrand until the Queen departed to prepare an attack Ulf the White was not a part of. Since Rhaenyra had refused him the hand of a high-born daughter, Lady Stokeworth, he had been inexplicably excluded from most of the war councils. Ulf was a resentful man, and he loathed the Blacks for treating him like they did.

After that, Princess Rhaenys had allowed you to walk around the castle, not as a prisoner as Ulf had understood you were, piquing his curiosity. You were a sight to see, the woman the One-eyed Prince had taken for himself, the woman he had succumbed to. Beyond that, he saw your value. You were the ultimate prize, the stolen jewel, a mean for him to obtain anything from the Prince Regent, if he planned his moves well. You would not be of the Blacks to use.

So when the Blacks finally launched their attack on King’s Landing as the Greens marched on Harrenhal, convinced that both the Stark’s forces and what remained of the Riverlords would be gathered there, he and Hugh put their plan into motion. They would betray, defect to the Greens. And this is what they did, taking their dragons with them, and by extension, you.

Ulf the White had not shared with Hammer his plan of abducting you, intending to be the sole receiver of the merits of having retrieved you from the Blacks’ hold.

You had struggled that night, both Rhaena and Rhaenys away on their mounts, leaving you on your own as it has been easy for Ulf to command the guards away on false pretence and sneak you out. But your resistance stopped when he was forced to tell you of his plan to bring you back to the Greens, all of your doubts flying away when your eyes laid upon his dragon. That same night, he had understood that your value was far greater than it appeared. Your growing belly hidden under your cloak was everything Ulf could have asked for, and he had licked his lips in delectation.

But he had lied about your destination. Hugh was tasked to warn the marching forces of both Cole and Aemond of the Blacks’ attack, gaining their trust while Ulf was to warn the Hightower forces, gathered at Tumbleton, not allowing you to leave the watchful eyes of Silverwing while doing so.

Lord Hightower had named him Lord of Bitterbridge at once, the late seat of House Caswell, to ensure Ulf’s loyalty, and reward him with men. Ulf had taken the Lordship without complaint, biding his time until the Greens would grant him more, as Lord Hightower instructed him to stand ready. But even then, Ulf had no intention of letting you go, bringing you to Bitterbridge at once and confining you in one of the towers. He was taking pride in his actions as he took over the castle that was now his own, feasting and celebrating the battles to come with his men as he thought about the time when Aemond would come and claim you.

You have been a fool.

The castle of Bitterbridge was for you one of the most sinister places in the world. You had heard how the widow Lady Caswell had pleaded for her children to be spared before hanging herself at the gates, gates that you now saw daily, each time that you looked out of the window. Your father had always been close to Lord Caswell, who had been executed the day Aegon II was crowned, and you have known Lady Caswell since you were little.

The Hightower forces had sacked Bitterbridge a few weeks prior, letting only some inns and the garrison unburned, and the Caswell children had been sent to Oldtown to remain as prisoners while Ormund’s forces were headed north.

Your time in Driftmark seemed to be long ago, as you remember when a white-haired man had visited you and promised you that you would see your husband again. You had seized your chance, hearing of his betrayal. But now you understood what his aim has been.

Your first night in Bitterbridge, you had heard celebration within the castle, where Ulf’s men had settled themselves, feasting on the remaining Caswell’s provisions. Later that night, you had cursed the bars on your door and the height of your window as you heard women screaming, learning by morning that their new Lord had claimed three maiden, raping them during the night, and that he had fed his dragon with two nobles who had defied him.

Soon came news from the capital, horrifying one that had you retreat in mourning during weeks.

The Black Queen and his King consort had taken King’s Landing while the two princes were away, securing several dragons under the Dragonpit and Rhaenyra’s birthright. Alicent Hightower had been imprisoned immediately, and poor Helaena had thrown herself out of a window, rumours speaking of Dreamfyre’s squeals of grief at her death. Your sadness was unbearable as you wept for your friend, innocent and subjected to nothing but unjust fate, your only slight consolation being the claim that the twins have gone missing as was Larys Strong. Rumours has it that they have been slayed upon the attack, but you chose not to believe it, as you did not believe that your fate was to remain here forever.

Ulf White had assigned a maid to tend to you, a girl who you knew was terrified of him and would do anything not to anger him. He visited you every day, each of his visits more unsettling than the last as you could sense his gaze everywhere on you, on your swollen belly, on your cleavage. You were convinced that the only thing stopping him from claiming you like those women was the value he saw in you, and what you meant for the Greens. So he treated you well, smarmy and only allowing himself to linger his eyes on your growing breasts, making you shiver in disgust that you had to hide each time. But you were patient, aware that Ulf the White was your sole chance to see Aemond again and your only protector in a place where you knew no one.

You had little information about Aemond’s whereabouts, or Daeron’s for that matter, ignorance killing you to the point that you thought yourself going mad as you had one night sighted a huge form flying above the far fields of Bitterbridge from your window. You had instantly thought of Vhagar, but as nothing came out of the dark as you watched the horizon, you concluded that your eyes had surely mistaken Silverwing for bigger than she was, and you have sulked in your despair again.

The only interaction you could have with a living being beside Ulf was with your maid, but even her was avoiding talking to you, staying awfully silent every time you tried to make her open up a bit to you. You knew Ulf was the last person who would answer any of your questions, particularly the one that you were burning to know the answer to: was Aemond safe and why was he allowing Ulf The White to keep you in such a way when he had wanted you at Deep Den?

Your answer came in a very unexpected form, some weeks after the fall of King’s Landing to the hands of the Blacks.

Ulf had, for a certain amount of time, enabled you to appear next to him at court, displaying you at his side as a trophy to be looked at and enjoyed making you attend his execution ceremonies, the ones where he would feed those who had displeased him to Silverwing. You suspected that Ulf grew tired of the Greens’ inaction as he had not heard from them in quite some time, news travelling awfully slow, and that showing you more plainly to court would grant him the attention he yearned. He had confided in you his wish to become Lord of Highgarden, boasting before you as he thought himself worthy of such a title and territories.

This is how you had found yourself at his side one day, forced to attend an audience you had no care for, until you saw the petitioner.

His gaze has instantly landed on you as he entered, and you felt alive for the first time in weeks. Addam Vance, accompanied by Hightower soldiers, had come on the orders of Lord Ormund, to call Ulf’s forces to march on King’s Landing. You were taken aback on how much Addam’s physical appearance had changed, you could see several scars on his face, and he looked taller and fiercer than ever.

“Why would I answer to you? Lord Hightower has ignored my demands for over a moon, and now he sends a boy to call me to war? Me, a dragon rider?” spoke Ulf next to you, not appreciating his treatment in the slightest.

“My Lord, he only requests that you fulfil your oath to the Crown as you were given this stronghold,” answered Addam, standing his ground at being called boy . “He has sent me in the hope that you will join him alongside Lord Hammer at Tumbleton. He is ready to hear whatever other demands you wish to make.”

Addam’s gaze had shifted toward you as he said his piece, clearly indicating that you were part of the bargain Lord Hightower desired, and as Ulf remained silent, considering the words of the young Lord, he had not missed the passing glances you exchanged. You knew he would be angered by this.

“I only answer to royalty. If the Crown wants me and my dragon to fight their battles, Aemond Targaryen can come himself and discuss my demands in person.”

Addam was now anxious, thinking his next words over as he glanced nervously at you.

“I fear that it will be impossible, my Lord. The Prince Regent has fallen.”

You felt your blood turn to ice in your veins. The whole court held their breath as everybody looked at Addam, who was watching all colour fade out from your face with worry.

“The Kinslayer is no more? Speak!” you heard Ulf asked in his gruff voice.

“He had taken upon himself to avenge his family, took several men to infiltrate the Red Keep and murder the usurpers. It was over a week ago.”

You wanted to vomit, the pregnancy already taking a toll on your stomach these days, and you barely managed to not scream your lungs out, voice stuck in your throat. You refused to consider it, refuse to believe that he was dead. Blood rushed into your ears and you thought that you had gone deaf as murmurs filled the room.

After that everything had been a blur, and you did not remember how you had ended back in your chambers again, clutching your belly.

You refused to cry, you refused to shed a tear. From your window you had seen Addam’s men settle themselves in the courtyard near a bonfire they had lit, and the next moment Ulf The White had entered your chamber.

He closed the door slowly as you did not even bother to look away from the window, sensing his ever libidinous gaze on your form.

“The maid informed me that you had not eaten today.”

You only responded with silence. Your voice has been inexistent of late.

“I came to see you to assert your situation, my Lady,” he continued, taking a step closer. “You must understand that you are now a widow, and that your child, if born a boy, will be targeted by the Blacks as soon as he is out of your womb.”

You felt your throat dry as you came to rest your hand on your round belly. You hated the words that came out of this man’s mouth.

“But at my side, you will not need to fret. You will be protected. When you become my wife, wealth and safety will be granted to you. Your child will grow up as my own, and he will be in his right to claim what is rightfully his when the time comes.”

Your eyes snapped at him for the first time, your eyes red in sorrow and anger.

“I will never marry you, my child is not yours to claim, and neither am I.”

Your voice was strained, words barely coming out of your throat as you looked at him with all of the hate you could muster. You held your grounds as you saw anger flash into his eyes.

“Your husband is dead, and I have resisted you for far too long,” he warned. “You are at my mercy, no friend of yours will come for you, my Lady. You have no choice over the matter. All that you can do is pray that I show mercy to you, and to your child.”

“You are vile. You had held me captive and you expect me to be obedient to your desires? You disgust me,” you said through gritted teeth, and he instantly slapped you in reaction.

“You are quite the hypocrite, my Lady. If I recall correctly, the last time someone held you captive, you had given yourself entirely to him, even let him impregnant you." Your eyes were full of hate as you felt your cheek burn from his strike. “Well now it is my turn,” he continued as he grabbed your hair and made you back up against the wall of your chambers. He stopped looking at you for a minute as you tried to free yourself from his grasp. “Or maybe I will wait. I know how the breasts of a woman grow as the pregnancy advances, it will be more rewarding this way. Or maybe I will wait until I can put another babe in your belly.”

His hands were touching the curve under your breasts and descended. You jolted at the touch, the hard stone behind you making your body ache in pain.

But he released you, satisfied at your dishevelled appearance and making his way to the door as you crossed your arms over you protectively, shaking.

“Once the throne is won, I will make you my Queen.”

A/N: Long chapter, many things to establish before going on.

I have stolen the beautiful quote “we will always love them more than anything they could ever do wrong.” from Andor, the Disney Series. Not to advertise, but that was a very good lines among many other all as good as this one.

Hope you enjoyed.

Part 23

! If you are not underlined, it means that you will not be tagged unless you allow Tumblr to unhide your account from the search results!

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[player1064]

pretty sure i’m just gonna keep spamming you with drabbles asks now 😅 based off that double date w/ jill and shelly any chance for carraville double dating w/ posh and becks, like slightly awkward becks trying to be supportive and posh and carra in the corner laughing it up lol

oh my god I have Got to stop writing drabbles that are like a thousand words long like honestly at what point do they stop being drabbles!!! Anyway! Enjoyed this one a lot (have enjoyed all of them a lot, I LOVE writing these two idiots being idiots about each other)

---

Most of the time, Gary can’t even keep track of what continent David is on, never mind what city he’s in, so it’s a pleasant surprise when he gets to Salford one day to find him sat in the VIP suite, chatting to Nicky.

It’s rare for David to come all the way up to Manchester, rarer still that he has time to check in and watch a game at the lesser of the two football clubs he owns, so thank fucking Christ they actually win this one, else that would’ve been embarrassing.

Not embarrassing for Gary, of course, because he’s got nothing to do with any of it.

When the full time whistle blows, David turns to Gary with a smile and asks “Dinner? Victoria wanted to meet me at some place in town,” and Gary had already had plans but again: seeing David is rare, of course he says yes.

They end up in some posh restaurant that Gary’s not got around to trying yet, mainly because you have to book a few months in advance and he can barely keep track of what he’s meant to be doing on a day to day basis. David doesn’t seem to have a booking, but he walks in and gives the hostess a smile, and after that the best table in the house miraculously frees up.

Victoria sweeps in a moment later, dipping down to give Gary a kiss on the cheek in greeting (which definitely does not make him blush, thank you very much), before taking her seat next to David.

“Sorry to make you wait, babe,” she says to David, “had to drop my things at the hotel and then traffic was a nightmare. How was the game, did your guys win?”

“’Course they did, they’re good lads. We’ve not ordered drinks yet, so do you –”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll just have a –” she’d been rummaging in her bag for something, but she looks up for a second and pauses, frowning at the other side of the table. “Oh. Sorry,” she says, looking between Gary and David with her head tilted in question, “I thought it was gonna be just us three?”

Gary looks to his right and huffs an exasperated sigh. “It was, this one just won’t stop followin’ me around everywhere. Like a lost puppy, really. Becks said we should take pity on ‘im.”

David nudges their leg together, just gently, and rolls his eyes. “This is Jamie, babe,” he says, leaning in closer to Victoria as he speaks, one arm draping across the back of her chair. “Gary’s partner.”

Both Gary and Jamie respond with an “ugh,” at the same time. Gary glances to his right again, smirking when Jamie meets his eyes.

“Partner, honestly, you’re makin’ me sound like a lawyer or somethin’,” Jamie says, holding out a hand for Victoria to shake. “I prefer ‘long-suffering martyr’, if we ‘ave to put a label on it.”

“I’ll show you long-suffering, you twat.”

David clears his throat. “Yeah, uh, he was at the match with us earlier. Gaz wanted to send him home, but I thought – y’know, Jamie’s a nice guy,” (“is he fuck,” Gary mutters under his breath,) “and it’s been a while now, right? So maybe it’s time to sort of – bring him in to the fold, I s’pose.”

Victoria gives Jamie an analysing once-over. “How long’s a while, then?”

“’bout five years now, in’t it?” Jamie replies, looking at Gary in question.

Gary kicks him.

“Oi! Oh my god, how many times’ve I gotta tell you, I am not counting from the time we –”

“Can’t you ever just let the grown-ups talk without havin’ to open your ugly mouth –“

“Five, Gary?” David asks, looking between Gary and Jamie with an expression caught between amused and puzzled. “You told me at the World Cup it was still new, an’ that was only what, a year and a bit ago?”

“Well – well, it was new. In a way.”

“Oh my god, Gary, we’d been livin’ together two years before the World Cup, how’s that new?”

“I didn’t wanna just throw him – sorry, Becks, it were weird enough bein’, like, ‘oh by the way I’m gay’, without havin’ to add a – a proper, like, partner – yes I’m saying partner you idiot because in case y’hadn’t noticed that is actually what we are – into all that as well.”

“No, no, it’s fine Gaz, y’don’t have to apologise, I know it can’t’ve been – easy, for you to –”

Victoria cuts him off with a hum, her brow creased. “But he already knew you were gay?”

Jamie, who’d been about to take a sip of water, barks an abrupt laugh and turns to Gary with a twinkle in his eye. “Did he now?”

Gary kicks him again, just because he’s there and he can.

“Oh, yeah,” Victoria says airily, like she’s not just shattered Gary’s entire worldview with a few simple words. “I remember he said to me, when we first started dating, he goes ‘Gary doesn’t like talking about the gay thing, makes him feel awkward, so we just try not to mention it around him.’”

Jamie is positively beaming at this little anecdote.

“Right, well,” Gary announces, making a big show of pretending to get up from his seat, “I’ll just be off to kill meself then. Victoria, lovely to see you again, give my love to the kids.”

It’s David who grabs Gary’s arm and tugs him back into his seat, mostly because Jamie’s too busy informing Gary that he’ll be playing You’ll Never Walk Alone at his funeral.

“Gaz, it wasn’t – we weren’t making fun of you, we just – figured you’d talk about it when you were ready.”

Wait.

“We?” Gary screeches. “Wha’d’you mean, we?”

“Um,” David says.

Jamie claps Gary on the back as he doubles over in laughter.

[november-rayne]

Chapter Three: The Message

A/N: Being a God has its perks; strength, accelerated healing, stamina...

Word Count: 2200

Rating: Mature

Tags: Loki being a spoiled prince, implied smut, nothing too graphic

Chapter Index

*This story is for mature audiences only.* 18+ *Minors DNI*

Loki was famished by the time he had finished with the maid from the library. He had made her come three more times before he left her. He took her from behind in front of the fireplace. He had her on her back on the chaise. And the first time he took her, he lowered her onto himself, and she rode him hard while they were still on the sofa.

He forgot to ask for her name, but he made another mental note: ‘Housemaid, short, blonde: good kisser, eager to please, deft hands, comes easily.’

He walked swiftly through the palace with a broad smile, wholly sated but starving. He walked straight for his chambers, taking long strides. His library adventure had occupied most of the early evening, and he missed dinner in the main hall. Not that he cared much; while his parents were away on business, all the courtiers had been demanding too much of his attention, boring him with their tales of inferred affronts or trying to engage him in other political discussions.

“Brother!”  Distracted by his daydreams, he almost ran into his brother, Thor, as he reached the top of the staircase. “I was looking for you at dinner.”

“I missed it,” he said, not slowing his pace.

“I do not dare guess why,” Thor observed the flush in his usually pale cheeks, the messy state of his usually kempt hair, and the disheveled look of his clothes. Not to mention the enormous smile pasted on his face. “Either you just won a fight, or you were dipping your wick somewhere.”

“You are too clever, Brother. I can keep no secret from you. I am just back from the training grounds.”

“Obviously.”  Thor rolled his eyes at his brother’s weak attempt at deception. Loki’s promiscuous reputation was hardly a secret. Ever since he was a teenager, he had basked in the fleshly attention he received after growing into his looks. It was even rumored that he lost his virginity while in the company of two maidens from his history class.

He frequently seduced servants, nobles, and even commoners living in the capital city surrounding the palace. It was a power he loved wielding. He always made sure it was a win-win situation. He relished giving pleasure as much as he loved receiving it. He always used the proper spells to shield himself from getting a child on someone or catching an infection.

When Loki did court, it lasted only a short time. He found keeping company with the same person became tedious after a while. He usually broke things off before the other person got any ideas that it could be a long-term endeavor.

Thor, on the other hand, preferred to court his partners and only took them to bed once promises of commitment were exchanged.

“If you will excuse me now, Brother, I have worked up quite the appetite today and am desperate for a bath.” 

“Of course. But if you could spare some time before breakfast, I would like to get your thoughts on the message from Mother.”  Loki reached into his pocket, double-checking that he remembered the envelope.

“Yes. Yes. Nothing would make me happier.” 

Thor’s eyebrows shot up, “You haven’t read it yet, have you?” 

“Of course not. I told you I have had a hectic day—lots of meetings…and physical… combat training. I am ravenous. I will look it over once I have eaten, I promise.”

“It’s important.”  Thor gave him a serious look.

“Of course. You have my word.”

“I will meet with you here before breakfast then. Rest well, Brother.”  Thor left Loki at the double doors to his apartment.

Loki called for his chambermaid as soon as he entered his sitting room.

“Your Highness,” the maid called Sera responded with a deep curtesy.

“Draw my bath and lay out my robe. Send for my dinner, something hearty, and have it set up by the fire when I get out of the tub.”

“Right away, My Prince.”  She hurried off to the bathroom that lay just beyond Loki’s bedroom.

He removed the message from his mother, still sealed with wax in its parchment envelope. He thought about opening it now but recalling his brother’s face when he asked about it; he decided to wait until he was fed and comfortable. He left it on his desk and sunk into his chair. The activities of the day played on repeat in his mind.

“Your bath is ready, Your Highness.”

Loki headed to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind him.

“Make sure those are cleaned and pressed,” he ordered unnecessarily as the chambermaid followed behind him, gathering the laundry as she went.

“Yes, My Prince.”

Loki sunk into the deep bathtub, submerging himself to wet his hair. Sera pulled a basket and a stool out of a nearby cabinet and settled down next to the tub. She selected the shampoo from the basket and began washing his hair. She used her nails to massage his scalp just the way he liked.

“Divine,” he whispered.

“Head back, please.” 

He obliged as she rinsed his hair with a large pitcher filled with warm water and lavender essence. She gently wrung out the water from his shoulder-length tresses when all the suds were gone. Next, she took her time massaging the lavender conditioning oils into his scalp with the pads of her fingers.

She loved hearing the little sounds of pleasure the prince made while she was caring for him. It made her so proud of the job she did. She would do, and has done, anything the prince desired. She combed all the knots from his hair, loving how it felt like black silk under her fingers.

“May I join you in the bath tonight, Your Highness? I could scrub your back like last time.” She kept her voice low and quiet behind him.

“As wonderful as that sounds, I am afraid I will have to pass tonight.”  As if on cue, Loki’s stomach growled loudly. “I will finish washing. You go and check on my dinner.”

“Yes, My Prince.” She sounded disappointed as she placed a stack of clean towels on the stool she just vacated. “You must be starving. I will make haste.”

Loki finished his bath; exiting the tub, he wrapped a towel around his waist. He took another towel and started patting his top half dry.

Looking in the mirror, he admired his “battle scars.” Light blue and purple mouth-sized bruises at the base of his neck, chest, and abdomen, and fingernail scratches on his back and buttocks. He gave himself a broad smile in the mirror.

‘Not bad for a day’s work,’ he thought to himself. Fortunately, as a God imbued with the magic of the Æsir, he had accelerated healing; soon there would be no trace of his lusty activities.

In his bedroom, he found his favorite robe lying across his bed. He put it on over his naked body, tying the sash loosely around his waist.

His dinner awaited him as he entered the front room of his chambers. He settled in at the little table beside the fireplace and ate his fill, enjoying every morsel. Clean and with a full belly, Loki was enjoying the warmth of the fire, almost ready to fall asleep in his chair as Sera came over to clean up.

Loki perked up slightly as he took in the view of the curve of her bum as she leaned over the table to clear it. “Thank you for your service, sweetling. You are the finest chambermaid I have ever had.”  She followed his eyes as he ran his gaze traveled over her body.

She blushed as she stacked the dishes on the tray. “It is my pleasure to serve you, Your Highness.”  She carried the tray to the table by the chamber’s main entrance and quickly returned to the prince’s side. She stared at his bare chest peeking out from his loose robe, heat rising in her body. “May I…will you be requiring-” Loki’s mouth cut her off. He kissed her deeply, wrapped one hand around her waist, and raised the other to massage her breast as he stood up from his chair.

“You have already served me so well tonight. Take the rest of the night off. I have work to do.”  She looked stricken as he stepped away from her toward his desk. “And tomorrow morning as well. I think I still remember how to dress myself.”  He picked up the message from his mother and eyed it warily.

“If you please, it would be my pleasure, My Prince.” She moved to his side again.

“Oh, of that, I am sure,” Loki said, chuckling, laying the envelope back on the desk. “I cannot have you getting too attached to me, sweetling. I will ruin you for all other men.”

Feeling emboldened, she untied the sash holding Loki’s robe closed. Her eyes drank in his beautiful, naked body. Her heart raced, and her skin felt like fire. She ran her hands down his chest, looking up at his ocean-blue eyes.

“Please?” she asked meekly.

“Mmmm….” He kissed her gently. “So bold.” He took her face into both of his hands. “I do have work to do.” He kissed her again. “But you do taste so sweet.” 

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her body to his. “I have an early meeting with my brother, pet.” He gave her a deep kiss, pulling her hair ribbon, letting her hair fall from the knot on the top of her head like a chestnut waterfall down to her waist.

“He will be very cross with me if I am ill-prepared,” he kissed her again. He was untying her apron behind her back. “You should go sleep in your quarters tonight. I need my rest.”  She pouted, her bottom lip jutting out, and looked up at Loki with mock sad eyes. He laughed and kissed her bottom lip before nipping it with his teeth.

“Let me warm your bed tonight, My Prince, and in the morning, I will wake you for your early meeting.” She raised her tiptoes so that her mouth was close to Loki’s ear, “I will wake you with my mouth. If it would please my Prince.” She ran her hand over his hip and cradled his length in her palm.

With that, the last bit of Loki’s resolve faltered. The message from his mother was all but forgotten as he lifted Sera from the floor, wrapping her legs around his waist. He carried her to his bedroom and threw her down on the bed.

Despite already having had copious amounts of sex that day, Loki obliged the chambermaid for hours more until she was happy and sated. She was amorous and eager, and he was delighted to please her. He was exhausted by the time she finally drifted off to sleep.

It was well after midnight when he slipped from the bed, pulling on his robe; he tried to make as little noise as possible as he shut the bedroom door behind him.

As much as he wanted to stay tangled up with the naked sleeping woman in his warm bed, he finally needed to read that message from his mother. He promised Thor, and Loki always kept his promises to his brother.

He carried the envelope to one of the large leather armchairs near the fireplace. With a wave of his hand, the fire roared back to life. Sinking in and getting comfortable, Loki took a deep breath and broke the wax seal. His eyes glided quickly over the paper covered in his mother’s elegant handwriting.

As he read, several emotions crossed his beautiful face: amusement, concern, horror, and finally, disbelief. He shook his head.

‘How? How could they do this to me? Mother knows my feelings. How could she think this is a good idea?’  As exhausted as he was a few minutes earlier, he made no move to return to his bed and the young beauty it held. Instead, he sat and stared into the fire, silently reeling from the news he had just received.

            ‘My dearest boys, your father and I continue our diplomatic tour of Asgard, hearing from the people and meeting with the Lords and Ladies of the realm.

We recently spent several weeks in the North. It is sparsely populated but extraordinarily rich in resources. Your father and I toured an emerald mine, visited the home of a local cattle farmer, and spent quite a bit of time with the Warden of the North, Lord Anderson and his family.

Which brings me to the main purpose of this letter. Your father was quite taken with their family’s story. Lord and Lady Anderson lost both of their sons and only male heirs in the battle of Svolder, leaving the sizeable demesne without an heir.

Your father, our King, has agreed to the betrothal of their daughter, Sigyn, to you, my sweet prince Loki. The betrothal contract has been signed and witnessed. You will inherit Smaragdberg on your wife’s behalf when Lord Anderson passes on to Valhalla. Until then, you and your bride will live at the palace and be tutored in Feudalism.

Your father wanted to wait to tell you when we returned, but I wanted you boys to hear it from me first. This is quite the announcement to have sprung on you in a letter. I am sorry to break the news to you in this way. Please forgive me.

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Tag List: @gigglingtiggerv2 @chantsdemarins @superficialdomina @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @muddyorbsblr @smolvenger

Let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list. Thanks!

XOXO- Rayne 💚

[rox-of-iu]

hey gamers, so in the past months i kind of phased out of playing yi xian (and got obsessed with gujian3 instead lol) but someone brought it back to my brain so I fired it up to check whats new and the new characters (I kept up to date with the news on steam even though I wasn't playing lol) and,,,, weary sigh,, the brainrot is back hsdjhks so here

anyway cloud sword sect keeps on winning baybee!! the new character is so cool I love Lu Jianxin 😭💜 easily my new second place favourite sjdhk the mechanics of magically forging the sword throughout the battle is so so so fun

ok and more drawings under cut because i dont wanna make everyone scroll thru a long post about yi xian of all things hjaskd

ok anyway!!!! the ultimate title for getting most dao points with Mu Yifeng is literally "shixiong" sdhaks and SO TRU HE IS THE ULTIMATE SHIXIONG 💕💕 tea shixiong ftw

and also also!! played the new story mode and lets go! my boys interaction hahhah yipee

and Lu Jianxin being iconic hahhsdj hes so cool about also so silly heart

And now segway to our other new character Wu Ce! and not gonna lie I am entirely making all their lore (aside from what we know from the first lore entry) up because I suCK ASS at heptastar. my brain is tiny. so I am never leveling them up enough to get to know their story hasdjk

but like listen. i know its most likely that after they got set up by the generals they disappeared off to heptastar to chill like that but.. listen theyře a schemer, you cant double cross your war strategist and then get out scot-free so I think Wu Ce should snap and spitefully cook something up as a revenge before dipping out. ykno as a treat

(if anyones curious and read this far and wants context, all that is known from the first entry is that Jiang Ximing (white hair, heptastar) taught them when they were younger and gifted them the star moon folding fan. Wu Ce then grew up to be very talented in astronomy and scheming. they then become a war strategist and are very successful which causes their superiors to grow jealous of them and the superiors set Wu Ce up. Wu Ce disappears after that and its implied that that's when they joined heptastar pavilion)

so yea they very cool 💜💜 but my brain is so so so small 💔💔 i cant even figure out how to play as normal heptastars nevermind their absolutely convoluted 40 steps schemey cards hsajkdh

also last thing i just realized that the new game cover that they switched to for the season of wind in game has the three new characters that they added in the corner! and that I wildly misjudged the length of Lu Jianxin's hair ghdjashgdjsa

also speaking of hair, heres MYF model because look at the absolute lengths hsjhdsjdhks icon icon icon (also pls appreciate the detail that his robe coattails are made so he matches the swallows of the mountain 🖤🖤)

ok thats all hahahja bye bye xD

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Yet another Boyd Drake Propaganda Post from yours truly, specifically for the @eggcrackerbracket​​ tournament this time:

First of all, he’s a robot Pinocchio allusion who decided he was a definitely real boy and then he WAS one. We all know robots and Pinocchio allusions are so trans of gender, and so being both makes him extra trans of gender!

Literally uses the phrase ‘I’m Boyd, a Definitely Real Boy!’ to introduce himself. 🥺🥺🥺

The entirety of Astro BOYD involves him fighting to be seen as a regular boy rather than a killing machine. He even fights against the programming of an evil scientist trying to use him as a weapon and MAKES THE CHOICE to be a real boy. His transgenderism is so strong, he can even fight against evil programming that is trying to control him and WIN.

Astro BOYD as a whole could very well be an allegory for what it’s like to be neurodivergent, in addition to being an allegory for being transgender. Him and Huey Duck are clearly autistic-coded, and the phrase ‘He’s a kid like me, just wired a little differently’ is used. 

They’re also best friends and spend a chunk of the episode taking a tour of furry Tokyo to do research for a shared special interest. (Also I like to imagine it doubles as a date for them, because cute 🥺).

Huey also spends the entire episode reaffirming Boyd’s desire to be seen as a real boy. He’s the best triplet for this reason alone.

Less happy fact about the episode, Boyd’s creator ends up misgendering him as ‘it’ for a spell and reject his claims of being a real boy because of some stuff that happens within the episode. 

But it’s fine because he’s going up to bat for him by the end and his reaffirmation of Boyd’s chosen identity is what ends up saving the day in the end. (Also Gyro is pretty trans-coded himself so we’ll let it slide but it still took me a while to come around on him as a character 😒).

Even before this episode aired, I already had such a soft spot for Boyd. I literally only started watching the show because I saw GIFsets of a previous episode with him, and he was just so PRECIOUS (and gave me Angus McDonald vibes) so I knew I had to watch the show just so I could get to his debut episode. And then Astro BOYD came along and cemented his place as my absolute favorite character in the show, and probably one of my favorite characters of all time.

Anyway I was lightly dipping my toes into a they/them enby identity before this episode dropped, but after months of having Boyd as a comfort character after the episode aired, a LOT of things began to click for me internally. And now here I am, a he/they transmasc with one of my chosen names being Boyd. (Listen I know technically I was already not-cis before that, but he still absolutely played a big part in delivering the final blow to my egg and helping me settle comfortably into a transmasc identity).

Also one final fact; Scrooge McDuck inspired Astro Boy, the first anime character. And then Ducktales made Boyd, an homage to Astro Boy as a whole. So Boyd is technically only a few steps away from the invention of anime. He deserves some respect for that fact alone from those of you who got their egg cracked by an anime character.

Okay I’m done now. Vote for the boy who cracked my egg because he is so polite and sweet and a definitely real boy and he deserves to at least get past round one 🥺🥺🥺

Also also if you want, watch Ducktales 2017 because it’s pretty fun. Or just watch Astro BOYD, because it’s the best episode. Sorry DWD fans, I know where my loyalties lie.

Also ALSO ALSO in case a DT fan who doesn’t know me might ask why I said Boyd DRAKE:

(Okay now I’m really, REALLY done for now, promise. Mainly bc this post is getting super long and I have a few others drafted before the contest has even started. #BOYDSWEEP)

[comicavalcade]

Submariner Summer 34

Ay Namor Nation, this is a big one! #SubmarinerSummer part 34, and we are doing one of THE comics of all time, Tales To Astonish #100: Let There Be Battle! After sharing the title for dozens of issues, we finally get the Astonish crossover of Namor vs. Hulk. Behold the cover!

Stan Lee is scribing this one himself, and lets us know our sense will be shattered. The great Marie Severin on pencils and Adkins on inks, Sam Rosen lettering. Title page has our Prince contemplating Hulk as he falls into a predicament, thinking of making him an ally

Namor recaps his predicament, being banished from his people after being falsely believed a traitor (thanks to Plunderer, and a shitty screen). But since he's matchless in the sea, and Hulk is Strongest One There Is (on land), and they're both outcasts...well, the logic is clear

So off Namor goes to make an ally and make the surface pay. Things go smoothly right away (/s), as the second he surfaces, someone shoots at him. 'Merica. Turns out, old foe the Puppet Master was in the middle of a heist, and now Namor has spoiled it.

This throws Puppet Master into a rage, but he soon stumbles on an idea...since he can't strike at Namor directly, how about using *Hulk* against Namor? So, one radioactive puppet later, Hulk bursts out and is sent to destroy Namor! Namor's plan of alliance is now sunk

From here? Its game on, as Namor and Hulk descend into all out battle on Miami beach. Let me tell you, if you're unfamiliar with Marie Severin, she is absolutely one of the Silver Age great artists. This woman was highly underrated, and this ish a shining example

Excuse me if I gush, but the scenes deftly show the two fighters' power, their figures bold yet fluid with the motion in the panels easy to follow. And there's plenty of motion as Namor seeks to take the battle to the air, then the water, and Hulk accidentally obliges

The oceanic recharge brings Namor careening back; IMPERIUS REX! A quick dip in a pool gives Namor a clear advantage but ends with a Hulk leap.

I'm just giving some highlights of the tussle, btw, there's a LOT of action packed into this 22-pager The military's called in, though they don't actually do anything as the titans clash; love how often Hulk or Namor burst out of the panels in this issue, too powerful to contain

And in one excellent page we get the obligatory moment to remind, Namor has his own code, his own honor, and foreign though it may be at any moment in the midst of destruction he might just come and save any or all of us; that's just how he rolls

Namor finally maneuvers Hulk into the sea, and from there...well, Hulk continually loses ground 😁

Hulk is also getting sick of the voice of the Puppet Master in his head and that isn't helping either, a distraction that isn't even properly feeding his anger

Namor launches a colossal assault using his speed and strength to toss Hulk around helplessly; that's right, mi gente, we have reached the "going in circles for the win" stage of Silver Age fights

And, this also spells doom for Puppet Master, as the giant waves wash his whole hideout away; double L for Puppet Master, double W for Namor, who doesn't even *know* he's defeated Puppet Master along with the Hulk

And yes, the fight is finally over; the last relentless assault has left Hulk washed up, and only Bruce Banner remains, unconscious on the sand. Namor doesn't know from Bruce Banner, though, and so confused he wanders back to the sea. So much for his plans for alliance against the surface

You all might have guess that I love this issue, so I am in no way impartial. But listen, this is peak superhero action. Nay, peak heroic epics: its Herakles vs Triton, Gilgamesh vs Enkidu, Jacob vs the Angel, Krishna vs Chanura. Lee and Severin were both firing on all cylinders

If you agree, feel free to let me know; if you don't, drop a line as well and let me where you think it falls short. We're about to come to a great transition for Namor (and Marvel) so things are about to shift, and I'm interested in where we're all at on Tales to Astonish

But we're not *quite* there yet, although we are at the beginning of something new, so NEXT we cover Tales to Astonish #101: ...And Evil Shall Beckon!

[optimistredsox]

13 July, KC @ BOS, 0-5, win

That's better. In fact, that was one of the most fun games of the year. That was due, in no small part, to Youk and Pap joining OB in the booth. They were so much fun to listen to. Pap is basically every bit the person you think he's going to be. Yeah, we didn't walk a lot and struck out quite a bit but I really can't complain. We beat a playoff rival, prevented the possibility of a sweep and introduced the possibility of a series win, we beat one of the best pitchers in all of baseball at the moment and there was some great baseball played. Played by us at least. Which is what I want to see, to be honest. Also, it was an afternoon game so I got to watch it live without staying up until three in the morning. So, what I am trying to say, is that there were a lot of bright sides.

Kutter Crawford (still his real name) attacked the strike zone again (85% strikes!!!) and threw a peach of a game. He went 7+ (didn't last an out in the eighth but I forgive him) and gave up 2 (should've been three but the umps called what should've been a hit an error) hits, one walk and struck out six. The fielding was strong behind him, too (that error call was bullshit) and they kept it clean. 85% strikes, man. That is awesome.

Zack Kelly had a bit of a hiccup in the ninth but kept the board clean, inheriting a runner and no outs in the eighth and locking shit down, immediately getting a double play and saving the day.

Dom Smith is playing great first base. I feel it is important to mention that. I know I have before, but as he's a veteran among a young and athletic crew, he needs to get the credit he deserves. He fielded brilliantly, making a grab on an amazing but slightly off-target throw from Raffy (Raffy's grab was amazing, and a lesser third baseman making that grab would've just settled for preventing extra bases) and keeping his foot on the bag in full extension to get the out. He also came up big at the plate. He went 2-for-4 with a run scored and 2 RBIs on a big hit in the bottom of the third that gave the Sox the breathing room they need. He played great today.

Raffy went two-for-four as well, with a ridiculous dinger off the top of the barrel of the bat that I don't even think he realised it was a homer at first. I don't think any of us did. As he passed Jason Varitek on the list of career homers with the Red Sox, it was Varitek that put the homer medal on Raffy's neck when he got back to the dugout, which was really cool. Also he played third base great (unjustly charged with an error on what should've been a hit) and his first hit of the game was one of the few that went into left field. A very small dip (not a slump) seemed a distant memory by the end of the game.

Jarren Duran went 2-for-4 with a ridiculous bunt straight to the pitcher that he turned into a single by being fast as fuck. He also then was thrown out trying to steal second just after that but it was still impressive.

Reese McGuire also bunted successfully, caught a good game, knocked in the first run of the game and went 2-for-4.

Masa Yoshida got a hit and scored a run.

Wilyer Abreu, still trying a bit too hard at the plate, managed to go 1-for-4 with a RBI and a run scored anyway.

Ceddanne Rafaela went 0fer but played great short again, including making a leaping grab above second to make a remarkable out. He's distilling into one hell of a player. Not his best plate day though.

We won that game and it felt good.

We're back in sole possession of the third wild card spot.

We can win this fucking series and go to the All Star game feeling totally fucking awesome. Let's fucking go.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Copycat: Cryptomnesia —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: Hope you guys had a nice Christmas! I just realized the chapters lined up with the holidays that is so cool lmao -Danny

Words: 2,155

Phase Five Masterlist

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Listen to: ‘skinny dipping’ -by Sabrina Carpenter

xxii: A Christmas Miracle

The moment Cat got rid of the last man standing —without killing him— she saw the Christmas tree falling into the ice rink.

"Kate, you had one job!"

"I got it done, didn't I?"

"We do not destroy more than necessary!"

"Now you care about a dumb tree? Who are you and what did you do to Copycat?"

"This is Copycat!" She exclaimed. "I was sloppy Cat before!"

"Guys, while I'm glad to hear C.C.'s finally behaving like an adult, I am surrounded by a bunch of armed men, so if you could hurry..."

Cat teleported and Kate ran towards her, she put her arms around Cat's neck and both appeared next to Clint on the ice rink. Kate shot several smoke arrows, but it wasn't enough.

"We're too exposed, let's go!" Clint shot a magnetic arrow at one of the poles surrounding the rink and urged them to hide behind the fallen tree. "That should hold them off for a bit..."

He took off the shirt he was wearing to reveal a suit identical to Kate's.

"Oh, my God, you wore it!" Kate beamed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah—"

"Oh, my God, it looks so good, I told you!" Cat couldn't help but think her excitement was cute.

"Listen to me," Clint insisted. "We need to get off this ice, okay? The only way off this ice is up those stairs."

"Great," Kate groaned, looking at all the men. They were recovering from the beating Cat had inflicted. "There's only about a thousand of them and three of us."

"I count for at least three," Cat frowned, she was upset about how quickly the men had recovered, but if she was planning not to kill anyone when working with heroes, she had to get used to it.

"Here, take these," Clint grabbed a bunch of his arrows and placed them inside Kate's holder.

"No way!" Kate gasped. "Is it time?"

"It's time."

Kate looked at her looking for double confirmation, Cat shrugged.

"The only way to be ready is to get out there and do it. Welcome to the Avengers, Princess Bishop."

The girl gave her a winning, beautiful smile.

"All right, girls," Clint grabbed an arrow, he smiled at them. "Let's give 'em hell."

Cat ran, jumped, and teleported around the rink to take down as many people as she could. She used her spear and thought of how convenient it'd be if she could split it in two like Daredevil's baton.

"Kate! Your mom just came out of the side door!" One of their larpers announced.

"Copy," Clint replied.

"Yeah?" Cat showed up next to him.

He gave a start. "I wasn't talking to you! I said copy as in we heard it!"

"Oh!" Cat pouted. "Yeah, this happens. Spider-man used to say 'beep-beep' instead of copy so I wouldn't get confused."

"Like the roadrunner?" Kate smiled. "That's so cute. He sounds like a fun guy."

"He's sloppy like you," Cat pointed at the Christmas tree. "Go find your mom."

"I, uh... can you come with me?"

"Why?"

"We're partners, Copy."

Cat hummed. "Yeah okay, let's—"

A gunshot interrupted her, behind them, on the opposite side of the rink, Kazi was holding a gun and he had two guys standing on each side of him.

"Just go," Clint told them. Kate obeyed, but Cat rush back to his side. "Cat—"

"I'll catch up with Kate, this will be quick," she raised a brow. "Or are you too slow?"

Clint picked up an arrow, shot it, and the projectile was divided in three. Kazi caught the one directed at him, but the remaining two got the other men in the chest.

"Nice shot!" Kazi shouted sarcastically.

"Yeah, no shit!" Clint looked at her. "You were saying?"

She snorted. "Guess you're not that old after all..."

Cat teleported, she pointed her watch at Kazi ready to shoot him tranquilizers, but before she could do it, Maya arrived in a byke and almost ran over her.

"Shit!" Cat jumped out of the way.

"You should've left, Maya!" Kazi signed, then spoke out loud. "You know what I have to do..."

The mutant watched the scene in silence from her place, none of them looked happy to be reunited. Maybe they would take each other out. With this in mind, she believed Kate needed her more than these two.

Unfortunately for her, Kingpin found the Bishops first. After making sure Kate's mom wasn't dead, Cat got inside the toyshop and stopped the man from hurting Kate. She tried to tase him, however, when the weapon came into contact with him, Cat realized he was wearing the same armor Matthew owned.

"Goddamit."

"Copycat," he groaned, fixing his shirt. "we meet at last."

"Last indeed, you're going back to prison," she replied.

Her claws jerked out and she aimed for his face, he lifted a fist that she scratched deeply, making him hiss in pain.

"I'm surprised," she extended her spear and enlarged the blades on each end. "None of you get my name right on their first try."

"I've heard a lot about you," Fisk said, stepping forward. Close action wasn't gonna help her with this guy, so she stepped back. "I've heard some interesting rumors... about who you're friends with."

He was surprisingly fast for a man his size. He seized her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. Cat tried to free herself, but she wasn't successful. She tried to use her spear to stab his side and he slapped it away, the weapon rolled across the floor.

"Where is Daredevil?" He growled.

Cat teleported out of his grip and landed behind him, she used her watch to shoot several tranquilizers at his back. The suit got ruined, but he was still standing.

"Are you made of cement?" She coughed in annoyance.

"So you can teleport, what else can you do?" He turned to face her, unbothered by her attempts to take him down. "Smyerdakov told us all kinds of stories..."

Cat straightened her posture and stared at him through the goggles. "What?"

"I don't want to kill you," he explained, and once again tried to approach her. "We're all trying to get you, and now you're here, so I'll get you before them. If what Billy said it's true, and the powerbroker sent you as a way to claim a territory that—"

"You guys are all so stupid," she said in exasperation. "Whatever that dumbass told all of you, she was lying and so was Smyerdakov. He underestimated my abilities and it got him killed."

"INCOMING!" Kate shouted unexpectedly.

When the arrows at Fisk's feet exploded, Cat teleported over to Kate, spreading her cape to cover both of them from the explosion.

The mutant moved a little, cupping Kate's face to examine it. "You okay? How many eyes are on my face?"

"Aren't you supposed to ask how many fingers am I seeing?" She mumbled, blinking off the dust from her eyes.

"Can't show you any fingers, I'm holding your face," Cat pushed her goggles away. "Mouse, check her vitals..."

"She's stable. Her mother might be in need of assistance, though."

Copycat pushed herself up and then helped Kate to her feet. "Let's go."

"What was that thing Kingpin said about you and a power-something?"

Cat's expression darkened. "I'll take care of that later."

She went back to Kingpin, crouched close to his face, and tilted it to the side with her claws. She shot four tranquilizers in line on his neck.

"That should keep him under control..." she hesitated, then shot one last dart. "Okay, now we can go."

Cat heard police cars approaching once they made sure Kate's mom was okay. "I have to check on Clint, he said he'd be here but he's not and Yelena's still out there..."

"Yeah, go ahead. I should talk to my mom alone, anyway," she eased her. "I'll see you in a few, yeah?"

She squeezed the girl's hand. "See you in a bit."

She found Yelena standing above Clint, ready to kill him. Cat landed next to him and was about to attack Yelena when he caught her ankle.

"Don't... it's okay..."

Yelena's expression was one of heartbreak, she wasn't trying to kill him.

"Lena?" Cat asked tentatively.

The blonde looked up at her in frustration. "It's not fair, that you got so much time with her."

"We did," Clint agreed weakly.

"It shouldn't have gone this way," Yelena's eyes got teary. "If I was there, I could have stopped it. I could have— I could have changed it."

"Nothing was gonna stop her, Yelena... you know Natasha," Clint replied. "She made her choice... We're gonna have to find a way to live with that."

The statement was as much for Cat as it was for Yelena. She'd claimed that her hurting would forever blind her, but somehow, she saw things clearer in what she could only call a Christmas miracle. After two whole years of mourning and guilt, a new perspective arose:

Her brother had been the fastest man alive, she knew how his powers worked. The day Pietro died, he hadn't rushed in trying to stop the spear, he was looking at her, making sure she was okay.

When Tony was dying, he didn't ask about Thanos, he asked about Peter and the Maximoff twins, cause all he wanted to know before leaving was if they were okay.

There was no point in inflicting all those punishments on her person, her friends hadn't died for her. Staying miserable was not a proper way to honor their sacrifices. Nothing could hurt them anymore, and it was up to her to continue their mission.

"I loved her so much..." Yelena sobbed.

Between doing things the way she wanted, and the way others thought was better, the key to a happy life was to choose kindness regardless of what she knew.

"You're not alone, Lena," she said gently. "You have the other widows, they're your sisters too... and you have us if you ever need help."

Yelena didn't speak, she approached slowly and offered a hand to Clint so he could stand. The two women helped him stand, and he placed his hand on Yelena's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

The agent started to walk away, and Cat followed her.

"C.C..." Clint warned her, but she was quick to put his worries to rest.

"I'm making sure she gets out of here safe, that's all," she threw her spear and her taser at his feet. "I promise."

Yelena walked with her until they reached a quiet street, where the blonde stopped and glanced at the sky. Cat pushed the hood off her head and her mask disappeared, she inhaled the cold air, it stung her, but she didn't mind the feeling.

"Russo and Kingpin are not the only ones trying to find you," Yelena said at last.

"I guessed as much," she admitted, not even surprised to find out Yelena knew about it. "But the only way I'll work as a bag guy's minion is if they reach my price or kill all my friends... and the number both is pretty high."

"I didn't know it was a setup," Yelena revealed. "I found out at the same time as you. I couldn't warn you. I don't hate you, Z... but I saw how this life worked for my sister, and you can't change that."

Cat smiled a little, gazing at the sky. "I don't want anything to change. If I die fighting... it's a good way to go."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I'm listening."

"You grew up in a lab because of these people, all the bad things that'd happened to you, it's because of them... why help them?"

"My brother wanted a normal life," Cat looked back at Yelena. "He got what he wanted. Nat didn't want to live in half a universe, so she fixed it. Heroes don't have perfect lives, but most of their dreams come true in due time... you wanna know why I help them?"

Yelena just stared at her, so she continued.

"I thought I could fix my problems alone, but that's not what makes me good at what I do. It's who I become when I'm part of something. Having a soft place to land where I stumble, that's where my real power resides."

The agent hummed, looking up again. "You lived in space for a while, yes?"

"Three good years."

Yelena took a moment to form her question. "Was it pretty? The place where she died?"

Cat swallowed the lump in her throat. "Looked like a heaven."

The widow closed her eyes. "I won't tell Valentina you're Copycat, but this is the only time I'll cover for you."

"We can find a way to hide you, you don't have to go back to her—"

"I don't have a problem with what I'm doing, Z." She replied calmly. "If I need help I'll call you, but don't come uninvited."

"Alright," she knew this was as close as they'd get to becoming friends. "Take care, blondie."

"Don't die," the woman turned and started to walk away. "Don't waste my mercy."

She smiled and raised her voice. "Don't worry, Death doesn't want me around, she knows I'm insufferable."

Yelena stopped and spoke one last time, moving her head a little to the right. "Will you give me a tour around the city next time, or do I point a gun at your girlfriend's head to convince you?"

She tried not to laugh. "Okay. Stop threatening Kate's safety, she's not my girlfriend yet."

Next Chapter—>

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