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earth4angels · 5 months ago

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𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

jacaerys velaryon x aunt!targaryen reader ͟ ͟ ͟ friends to lovers, sexual content but no smut, incest (reader is aunt), fluff, semi angst(?), aemond being dumb, jace knows how to fight, i refuse to believe laenor never taught his kids how to defend themselves. slight switch of povs, basically the dinner fight, but added my own take, not edited.

summary: after the accident in driftmark the relationship between y/n and jacaerys became distant, when it came to the petition of the heir to driftmark, feelings came back full force. it took a bloody fight yet again to get jacaerys to act on his feelings before it was too late. but also, to unite the house of the dragon.

a/n: um? this is probably more than 1k words, i really went in. i had so much fun writing this & gosh.. do i have the guts to expand their relationship BUT ANYWAYS ENJOYYYY

somewhat based on this request. jace tag list: @jacaerysgf, @star611, @jules420, @gracexthoughts, @astrxq, @reyndaisy, @hxtd

For as long as Jacaerys can remember, he had always felt deep affection for his dearest aunt who was no more than a year older.

At first, it started with a childish admiration for how she spoke to him, how she would run her fingers through his curls when he would run towards her after sword training, read stories about the doom, or Visenya who she claimed was the best warrior to ever exist. Jacaerys admired her, she was his favorite aunt not that he had many but besides Helaena, she was his favorite. Again, it started with a childish crush. The smallfolk had a joke spread about how if anyone wanted to find Y/N, one had to look for small Jacaerys who followed closely behind her like a pup.

She never minded the talk, she loved her siblings and her nephews, it was one thing that differed her from her own brothers, who grew to despise the Velaryon boys. She loved Jacaerys, the way he always spoke of his growing bond with Vermax, the small adventures they would take to the gardens, or the adventures they took through the secret passages, and the library. She especially loved the moments he would sneak her strawberry cakes during her high valyrian studies when no one was looking. To her, Jacaerys was so dear to her heart, she dreamed childishly how it would be if they married.

She never understood why the hatred grew to the point everything that pointed toward her older sister was prohibited. Her siblings never had a close relationship with their father, but she did, she enjoyed the stories her father told her, but she mostly loved building and painting his replica of the seven kingdoms with him. Her father, King Viserys had always talked to her about protecting their own, as it was said, the House of the Dragon had to stay together to hold the realm united.

"Damn bastard," Aemond muttered under his breath as he rushed past her dusting his now muddy training gear. She narrowed her eyes at her brother, the word bringing her to wince. It was not the first time she heard it, at the age of 6, her mother had prohibited her from spending time with her half-sister and her children since the fight at Driftmark. She understood why, but she could not bring herself to be cold towards her half-family.

"Brother, enough." Y/n had her hand up to his shoulder, Aemond's one eye glared at her, "You must learn to let go of this anger, it is treason to speak of that word out loud."

Aemond scoffed, "Of course, my dear sister, protecting the bastards, you still defend them after what they did to me?" Aemond had snatched his eyepatch from his eye, showing its bright blue glow of a gem towards her.

"Brother... we were all children! Luce was only protec-" She choked as she was now slammed against the wall, a hand tight around her neck, she wildly stared at him, alarmed.

"Protecting? Dear sister, you are more than a fool. You rather protect bastards than the blood of the dragon?" Aemond chuckled in disbelief, "You, the same as father are fools."

He let go of her as she slumped against the wall, her hand clasped around her throat as she heaved, trying to get air back into her lungs. She watched teary-eyed from the loss of air the shadows of her brother grow distant with the further he went down the hall.

"Y/n?" a voice spoke from the opposite side of the hall. She looked back to meet the face of her once-best friend. "Seven hells! What happened?!"

Jacaerys rushed towards her, lifting her carefully as if she were the most fragile jewel to exist. In a sense to Jacaerys, she was.

She blinked, confused as to where he had come from. The last time she saw him, they were children, and he had promised to write her, yet after five ravens, the letters stopped, causing her to believe he had grown to hate her for what happened that night. It was then she realized why Aemond was so upset, why her mother suddenly left her and Heleana from embroidery to attend the council. Her mother avoided greeting her half-sister. Today was the petition of who was going to take over Driftmark. The house of the dragon was united once again, but not in the way she wanted to.

"Nephew?" She asked, confused again.

"Come, sit here. Let me get you some water," Jacaerys had placed her in the comfort of the shade of a tree. He had removed his cloak, placing it on the ground for her to sit as he ran to get her water. She stayed in silence beside her dry coughs that slipped once in a while. Jacaerys appeared again with a glass of water, she muttered a soft thank you before she drank till her throat was once again free from the harsh itches.

She looked toward him, finding him looking at her softly, his eyes burying themselves in the soft lilac color of her eyes. She blushed, coughing to avoid looking at him instead she focused on the grass beside her, picking at it softly.

"So... care to explain why you have a red mark on your neck?"

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek before she focused her stare on the blank blue sky, if Jacaerys was not paying attention he would have missed the soft murmur of her voice, "It was nothing."

Jacaerys opened his mouth to argue when the bells of the castle banged so hard that they echoed through the hallways.

"Don't think I won't let this go y/n," he spoke softly beside her, she only blinked in response. He shook his head as his tongue touched the roof of his mouth and he let go, making a sound that almost sounded like a click.

"You should go, my sister would probably be worried as to why you are taking so long. It is rude to keep your mother waiting."

Jacaerys rolled his eyes, before he lifted a hand towards her, a gesture for her to grab onto it. She stared at his pale hand, taking a moment to admire the changes, he was muscular now, and no more stood the boy who almost looked easy to push around. She followed the path of his hand toward his face, her breath hitching when she realized he still wore the necklace she had made him when they were children.

"You... you kept it?" Y/n stuttered, pointing to his neck. Jacaerys hummed, touching it delicately, his fingers rubbing softly at the soft shells. She had made that the day of Laena's funeral, she went and followed the path towards the beach to find seashells. She made it in hopes for him to feel better. She never thought he would keep it after all those years.

"Why wouldn't I?"

She stood up on her own avoiding his touch in fear she might want to curl into the safety of his hold.

“Go figure. You stopped writing to me.”

“What?” Jacaerys stood in front of her, stopping her from stepping another step further from him, “I never stopped? What do you mean I stopped? I sent so many ravens to you. I never heard from you after the fourth or fifth one.”

Now she was confused. “I sent you ravens too! You never sent me any back, I waited… I figured you just blamed me for what happened,” she muttered.

Jacaerys did another click with his tongue, before he reached out to her, her small hands fitting perfectly well inside his.

“Whatever happened that night, it’s forgotten. We were children, you were not even there for me to blame you. Aemond being your brother changes nothing, I still care for you just as much as I did when I was a child.”

She tightened the hold of his hands between hers before looking into his eyes, all she found was a soft gaze, not anything that was malicious, as she would find mostly in Aemond’s eye.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, she did not want to tell him how she felt for him. It was like Jacaerys had read her mind, though he was one year behind her, he always looked after her, to Jacaerys - she was everything he wanted in a wife, and he dreamed of making her as such.

“I’ve missed you, did you not?” he lifted one hand to caress her braid that was left falling off her shoulder to slowly reaching for her cheek where he held her delicately once again.

Y/n smiled, the fluttering feeling in her stomach making it hard to not release a giggle, she felt home.

“Of course I did Jace, I missed you so much.”

Ser Arryk spoke from the entrance of the garden, his armor glittering with the rays of the sun reflecting it, “Princess? The queen is expecting you in the grand hall.”

She nodded, feeling regretful of not spending more time with Jace, she had so much to tell him, to get caught up on.

“Thank you Ser Arryk, I will be there in a minute.”

She looked towards Jace again finding him still looking at her, a glint of mischief flashed, she narrowed her eyes making him smirk, “I guess you have to go aunt.”

The way he said it made her want to clench her thighs together, she cleared her throat, “I’ll see you soon my dearest nephew.”

He laughed like the word from her mouth was the biggest joke he had heard. His curls bouncing with the shake of his body, he reached down for her hand, placing a lingering kiss, “Princess.”

She watched as he turned, walking towards the grand hall passing Ser Arryk who bowed his head. Her stomach was still fluttering, all she wanted to do was jump and roll in the comfort of her bed, but she needed to meet her family and yet again witness another rift between the family.

"Her children," a long pause echoed through the grand hall, Y/n had her hands interlaced with each other, squeezing them so hard her skin was becoming white. She quickly glanced around the room, noticing her brothers smirking with anticipation, to her half-sister's family. She came across the eyes of her prince, who looked seconds from using his sharp sword to kill. She licked her lips, the anxiety building, she knew what was coming, and honestly, she was looking forward to it.

"ARE BASTARDS! And she is, a whore," Vaemond exclaimed.

Echoes of gasps and murmurs were heard, but Y/n blocked it as it all happened quickly. The blood splattered harshly like a quick burst of wind splashing her dark emerald dress. She gasped, her body being pulled back by Aegon who quickly acted to wipe off the blood off her dress and the little that landed on her face.

She would lie if she said she did not enjoy what she saw, in fact, she was glad it happened. That word being tossed around needed to be acted with a consequence, and she was proud of Daemon for warning those who followed Vaemond in speaking of her family that way.

The court ended and she was left rushed to her chambers, her ladies-in-waiting rushing to prepare a quick bath as her father requested them to have dinner together.

"You all can go," y/n spoke as she untied the laces off her dress.

"Princess-" Elydia, her closest handmaiden reached towards her to help her protested.

"Please, I need to have some moments alone, I will notify when finished."

"Princess."

She sighed, the weight on her shoulders becoming too heavy, she rolled her head side to side to relieve the pain. As she sunk into the rose-covered bath, moaning in bliss from the warmth she was sunken into, a knock was heard from her bed chamber. A familiar series of knocks, one that she missed hearing, sparking a rush of adrenaline.

She rushed to throw on a light blue gown, her hair soaking the silk material, making her breasts noticeable. Her footsteps were rushed as she reached the familiar wall by her bed, she knocked a similar tune before she pushed into it.

Jacaerys stood behind the wall, in his hands laid a wooden box with letters, her letters.

"Hi," he spoke softly, his voice sending butterflies all over her body

"Hi," she moved aside to let him enter her room, her eyes flickering quickly to the door of her room before eyeing the male before her, "What are you doing here? If my guards, see you... the scandal we could be in!"

He smirked, his plum juicy lips - she did not want to stare so much but she could not help observing him - quirked to the side, "That did not stop us when we were children."

She scoffed, "You said it yourself when we were children."

He smiled mockingly before he stopped in his tracks. He did not expect to see her so... vulnerable. The fantasies started to play out in his mind, he recalled all those moments he thought of her late at night. The fire ignited inside of him when he saw her in the garden, her hair flowing through the wind, her soft features to her soft lilac eyes.

Jacaerys wanted to propose to her mother a betrothal, to finally make y/n his, to act out all the fantasies he thought when she appeared in his mind.

"Jace?" She whispered, feeling self-conscious about the way he stared at her. He looked ready to bounce, his brown eyes scanning her up and down, she squeezed her thighs together.

"You... aunt I can see you wholly," he cleared his throat to avoid his voice sounding so raspy.

"Excuse me?" Y/n was confused until he gestured to her body, "Oh... Oh!" Her cheeks blossomed with a deep scarlet red tint; she rushed across the room to grab her robe tightly wrapping it around her body.

Jacaerys cleared his throat again, "Um... I just wanted to stop by before we saw each other at dinner again, the letters you had sent me."

Her cheeks still stained with red walked towards him, gathering the box between her hands, "So what with it?"

"I received and sent you letters y/n. I never stopped writing to you, I even made Mother annoyed with how many times I have asked her if there was ever anything sent to me."

She blinked her confusion, "Jacaerys I always wrote to you, your letters never came but I always sent you updates how things were here - "

"I know of everything, but I am giving you complete honesty on the fact that I never stopped," he stepped towards her, his hand on her cheek with his thumb rubbing soft circles calming her.

"What do you want me to do with that information? Do you know how much our families hate each other? How much Aemond goes around cursing Luce's name, your name? I shouldn't even be talking to yo-"

She stopped when he stepped closer, she felt his breath on her lips, her eyes darted down his lips to his eyes. Her breath hitched, he was so close. So close, she just wanted to taste how soft his lips truly were.

"Tell me to go, and I will. I will never bother you again, but tell me, you never want to see me, and I will."

Jacaerys hoped she never spoke of the words, as he wanted to kiss her, to tell her of the once confession he wrote in those many letters. She was just so pretty; he wanted to steal her and take her to Dragonstone where he wanted to marry her. He wanted to taste the sweetness between her legs, to have her scream, moan out his name, to fill her belly with the future heirs of Westeros.

His hand stayed on her cheek as he continued to stare, waiting for her to speak. Her breaths came out shallow and she began to shake with need.

"Don't go," she whispered, her hands reaching to grab his shoulders, pulling him closer towards her, "Please don't leave me."

"Gods," he wrapped his arms around her as he shakingly asked her, afraid she will finally reject him, but he hoped, "Can I kiss you?"

She gasped, the dazed look in her eyes fading as she began to pull away, "No... No... we can't Jacaerys! We are not betrothed, we are not promised to each other, my virtue could be quest-"

Her rambles were left to the old gods to wonder as Jacaerys placed his lips on her, "No offense, but you talk a lot."

She groaned against his lips at the jab he made but melted into the kiss, a kiss she longed for as the feelings that she did not want to admit surfaced. She only read books about the acts of kissing, yet she felt as if she knew with the way she kissed Jacaerys.

Her core suddenly felt tingly with how he was holding her, his hand deep inside her hair as the other ran down the silk of her gown to hitch a leg around his waist as he guided her down her bed.

"Jace..." she moaned, her throat begging for air as she pulled away, yet he did not stop, his lips trailing down her cheeks, prepping her with soft kisses to finally nipping at her throat. She moaned again.

"I have always wanted to do this," he whispered against her throat, "I badly want to take you, to have you sore, so fucked out of your mind that you forget your own name," he raised his head, his elbow by her head to prep himself just so he can look down at her.

She breathed heavily, "You..." she reached out, "You can't..."

"I would never dishonor you that way, but I will fight to make you, my wife. I will speak to mother, to my grandsire."

"Jace..."

He placed a kiss on her nose, smiling when she let out a giggle, "Tell me you also want me."

"I never wanted to admit it, but I do, I have always wanted you."

A knock disturbed their sweet bubble, and they both scrambled away from each other as y/n pulled her gown down. Jacaerys grabbed his cloak she did not even realize he had removed as he moved to the secret passage again.

"Princess? The queen requests your presence, dinner will start shortly."

She looked at Jacaerys as he whispered, "I will see you soon aunt." Y/n rolled her eyes but still smiled as she nodded.

The wall closed, and as if nothing happened, the room became quiet once again, she gathered her thoughts as she replied, "Almost done, please help me dress Elydia."

The entire time she was prepped for dinner she was smiling to herself. She could not wait to see her prince again. She had even requested for her hair to be loose, just two small braids creating a crown decorated her. She had wanted to look perfect for him.

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Her family was beyond divided, as she sat beside Helaena, it was too quiet, the only noises came from the cooks who were walking around to place the food on the table. She watched as Aemond sent nonstop glares towards her nephews.

She had found out through Helaena that Aemond had lost against Jacaerys during training. Jacaerys had taken his sword one minute into sparring. It finally made sense why Aemond was so upset when she came across him in the garden. Her lips tugged into a quiet snicker at the idea of her brother being put in his place.

As she drank her wine, her father spoke.

"It pains me to see our family divided. As the house of the dragon, we must be united to have the kingdom prosper in peace. All of you must leave behind your childish arguments! Do it for me, your father, your brother, your husband, your grandsire. Leave behind this anger!"

As her older sister stood to make a toast in hopes of making peace with her mother, she made eye contact with Jacaerys who was already looking at her. He smiled softly at her before he looked towards his mother, his mouth turning into a smirk as he hid it behind his glass of wine. Her eyebrows furrowed, and as she was going to question her sister's voice came through.

"... It has been decided for the good of our families, and to make the future of House Targaryen stronger, that Princess Y/n, and my son, Prince Jacaerys be wed. They shall be in the future the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Alicent shot up from her chair, "What?!"

Viserys wheezed but held strong as he banged his hands onto the table preventing an argument once again, "I wholeheartedly agree to this proposal as my dearest grandson himself asked to be wed to my beautiful daughter. They are to be wed as soon as possible."

Y/n couldn't help but smile widely, "Thank you, father," she looked towards her oldest sister, "Sister."

"Har! Har! Har!" Daemon raised his glass with a mischief glint in his eyes, his mouth into a wide smirk, he enjoyed seeing Alicent and Otto Hightower's plans get ruined.

Her mother could not argue against the newest betrothal since the King had officially declared it. She also had made peace with her once close friend as they toasted to each other. However, that did not stop her brothers from having a mind of their own, their mouths ready to retaliate.

As the night passed, and her father was no longer there to hold the peace, she held her breath as she knew, no she felt the anger boiling from her family. Aegon was the first to let out jests, and with that followed Aemond who did not hold back.

Jacaerys stood, his hand slammed into his uncle's shoulders to sit him back onto his seat, "You will keep your mouth shut about my betrothed. Jest all you want about me, but my wife-to-be, you will keep shut. Understood?"

Aegon snickered, satisfied with the reaction, he lifted his hands up in surrender.

She did not want to admit how it ignited such a need for her soon-to-be husband. She has never found him any hotter than what he looked like. His curls covered his dark gaze, his veiny long hands clasped together as to hold himself back.

"Boys. Enough. Let's finish dinner without any more arguments." Rhaenyra spoke in hopes of stopping the tension that was boiling.

It was enough for a moment. As Lucerys snickered at the pig that was placed on the table, in hopes for his uncle to join in the fun, as he believed it was an innocent act of jest. The blood came and what was a peaceful dinner, turned into the dragon's war.

"I dare you to say that again," Jace spoke from beside her, his hand holding hers to calm himself.

"Are you not proud of your house, dear nephew?" Aemond mocked, Aegon snickered, as the adults surrounding them stopped their dinner to hear what was going on, "I thought you considered yourself a strong knight."

A growl-like rumble came from Jacaerys as he rushed to punch her brother over and over. She scrambled towards them, yelling for them to stop, Aemond had gotten two hits through, but Jacaerys had the upper hand as his knuckles were bloodied. The guards had come to pull her brothers and nephews apart.

"Enough! All of you, back to your chambers! Now!" Rhaenyra spoke, sending them to their rooms. Y/n felt the angry tears stream down from the exhaustion of the fights between her family.

She yelped when a hand pulled her into the shadows of pillars. With a scream stuck in her throat, she widened her eyes at Jacaerys who had his hand on her mouth to stop her from screaming.

"Come back home with me, we will marry before the old gods," he whispered.

"But if I leave, I can potentially make mother and grandsire even more mad..."

"You are already promised to me, the realm will soon learn of it, ravens are being sent as we speak. Nothing will be able to stop our union, please. Just come home with me."

She hoped she was not making a mistake, for she loved Jacaerys so much more than waiting around for her family to come between her happiness. She only hoped, this union, would unite the realm and stop any possible war that Helaena had spoken of. As she kissed Jacaerys in the shadows, the said sister smiled as she poked another thread into a gown to continue the embroidery.

"From the blood of red and green, the pain will end as the union will bring peace once again."

#jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x oc #jacaerys targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #jacaerys x aunt! reader #hotd x y/n #jacaerys velaryon x reader #prince jacaerys #hotd jacaerys #𓇼 nattie's works

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heartshapedmisery · 1 year ago

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𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jon snow

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ in which jon wanders too far north of the wall into free folk territory and is put under your supervision, mance rayder's daughter, after your voluntary offer of him staying in your tent. you never thought you would be willing to bunk with a crow, but of course, there's a first for everything.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), inexperienced!jon, reader taking jon's virginity, little bit of subby!jon, riding, handjob, mentions of blood ( reader bites jon's lip on accident whoops ), oral ( f! recieving ), jon having a praise k!nk, jon having literally no self-control, reader calling jon a crow about a thousand times lmao, minimal use of Y/N, lmk if i missed anything!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ jon snow x fem!rayder!reader.

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ jon snow is so babygirl

honestly loved writing this, lmk what you think! also, should i make a part two with ygritte involved ?? wink wink

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ june 26th, 2023 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

When you first saw the darkness of his furs sticking out so flamboyantly against the white of the northern snow, you knew Ygritte had struck gold on her hunt with the others.

You watched with a cautious but intrigued look on your face as she pulled him along behind her by a long rope tied around his hands, cradling a longsword in the crook of her arm with a wide smile on her face. But, the look on the crow's face seemed to be the total opposite.

Everything about him was dark, from his ratted furs to his hair that looked like it hadn't been given a good wash in ages, to even the disgruntled frown that didn't seem to leave his face until Ygritte finally untied him from his restraints. He was a crow, through and through.

You had seen plenty men of the Night's Watch before―even killed a few―but the one who stood before you as you made your way into your father's council tent was different. His eyes were a deep, darling brown, holding a youth that couldn't have been any older than your own. Most of the crows you had captured were all old and gray, not nearly as attractive and brooding as this one.

You didn't know there was such a thing.

"Where'd you find this one?" you whispered to Ygritte, your voice low enough for only her ears, your eyes raking over his figure that seemed disproportioned from the thick of the furs and leathers he wore.

"About a few miles north of the wall," she told you, watching him just as closely as you were. "He was just too pretty to pass up." The two of you shared a laugh as she handed you the young crow's sword, heavy and dull in its scabbard.

The Lord of Bones pushed him roughly towards the man sitting in the center of the tent, biting into a hunk of meat as if it were his last meal.

"I smell a crow," Tormund muffled with his mouth full, turning his head barely enough to get a good look at the young man. His scowl hadn't changed, if anything worsened since being shoved into the large tent.

His name had been Jon Snow, which he revealed to Tormund just before kneeling before him and muttering your grace. The entire tent seemed to bustle with laughter at the attempt of respect, you and Ygritte sending each other a knowing look as the crow's face reddened with embarrassment. Tormund may have looked and fought like one, but he was no king.

"Stand boy," a voice hidden in the back of the tent sounded, silencing everyone in the room within a matter of seconds. Your father, Mance Rayder, unveiled himself from the shadowy corner room behind Tormund, looking down upon Jon Snow as he stood.

Jon was quick to rise to his feet, looking up at him as the man stood taller than even Tormund. "We don't kneel for anyone beyond the wall."

Slowly, you moved towards your father from Ygritte's side, resting your hands on the hilt of the crow's sword as you allowed it to stand in front of you. Your father always valued your opinion when coming to decisions over the free folk, and this matter was no different.

Your eyes had hardened by now, catching Jon's gaze with a look that could only be interpreted as defensive. No matter how pretty you thought he was, he was still a man of the Night's watch. Your enemy infiltrating your land.

You watched him carefully as he went on to explain why he had left the Night's Watch, telling your father about the things he had seen in Craster's Keep.

"And why would that make you want to abandon your brothers?" Mance asked, his voice low and gravelly. His words seemed to intimidate the young man, his eyes flitting away from your father's before moving back to them hesitantly.

"Answer the question," you growled, leaning in towards him with a malice that couldn't help but send a chill down his spine. His eyes shot to yours, wondering why you were making such commands in the presence of Mance Rayder.

He explained how the Night's Watch did nothing to prevent Craster from giving up his newborn son to the white walkers, creatures that had been known to be gone for centuries.

"I want to fight for the side that fights for the living," he told your father, sparing you only a quick look as you stepped back to Mance's side. "Did I come to the right place?"

Mance mulled over the boy's words before looking down at you, the look on his face clear that he wanted your opinion. "What do you say, girl? Shall the baby crow stay?"

As you held his sword close to your chest, you stepped closer to Jon, your face inches from his as you gave him a good look over. He seemed nervous, his breathy shaky as it blew past his lips.

"I say he can," you paused, circling around him before meeting his gaze once more with a sly smrik on your lips. "But he stays with me."

He didn't speak much to you at first―or anyone really―only saying a few words when needed to and biting his tongue when you made some snide remark or called him a crow.

Since you had taken the responsibility of monitoring him, you practically stuck to Jon like glue until nightfall―as did many other girls in your camp, including Ygritte. She was an exception, but you had to keep running the rest of them off since their eagerness to catch a glimpse of him drove them to fights and quarrels in the snow.

Not to degrade any of the people in your camp, but men that looked like Jon Snow were not a common sight in free folk territory.

After showing him around the camp and getting him a new set of furs made of polar bear skin and boiled leather, you eventually gave him Longclaw back―which was what he called that heavy sword of his. He was grateful, but his disgruntled frown hardly left his face.

"Lose the frown, Jon Snow," you had told him as he joined you and Ygritte for dinner around the fire you had built near your tent. "You're not in the South anymore. There's no need to look so miserable."

When nightfall finally took the sky, you escorted Jon to your tent with a mischievous smirk on your face, earning looks from other wilding girls―most of them being of annoyance or jealousy. Their glares didn't go unnoticed by Jon, a look of confusion and concern evident on his face.

"Are they always like this?" he asked sheepishly, looking over his shoulder as the two of you stood still in front of the flaps of your tent.

You couldn't help but laugh, the scowls on their faces feral and sour as you led him into your tent.

"You're the first pretty crow they've seen in ages, Jon Snow," you told him with a grin. "They'll claw each other's eyes out to lay naked with you."

Your words seemed to surprise him, but he didn't say anything as a reddish tint rose in his cheeks. He had never been with a girl, he was too young before he joined The Watch, and his vows forbade him from lying with a woman. He had never gotten the chance, so the idea couldn't help but intrigue him.

"Your furs are over there," you pointed to the makeshift bed across from yours, "Though I know you'll be far much warmer over here with me."

He disregarded your comment, silent as he made his way over to his side of the tent and tried not to think too hard about laying with you.

It wasn't a large tent, your furs only a mere few feet from his. You still laid rather close despite being on separate sides.

Beginning to undo your outer layers and shedding them off, you were left in only a thin undershirt and pants that barely left anything to the imagination as you sat across from him.

Jon's eyes widened.

You could feel his eyes on you, his cheeks flushed at the sight of your hardened nipples poking through the fabric as you reached over to light a few candles between the two of you to brighten up the tent. He felt a sting of guilt run through his chest; he didn't want to betray his vows, or even think about betraying them, but you were making it very difficult for him to abstain on his side of the tent.

"What, have you never seen a woman's body before, crow?" you said playfully as you undid your hair from the braid it had been pulled back in all day, tousling it with your tired fingers to get ready for bed.

Jon only widened his eyes, gulping rather harshly as his lips parted, catching your eyes that seemed to be filled with nothing but seduction.

"What do you care?" he looked away, the tension too much for him to bare. His cheeks were flaming red at this point, embarrassment flaring in his chest. He could feel his hard-on begin to grow under his thick trousers, hoping to the Old Gods you couldn't see.

"Oh, right," you said sarcastically. "The Night's Watch will hack your hand off if you even think about touching a woman, is that right? Miserable bastards."

Jon tried to protest, his words caught dead in his mouth as you cut him off abruptly.

"Have you ever laid with a woman, Jon Snow?" you asked lowly, sitting up from your spot on your warm furs before slowly starting to crawl over to him, sultry laced thickly in your voice.

He shook his head, his eyes wide and blown out with lust. You were dangerously close to him, sitting down in front of him with your legs tucked neatly beneath you as you leaned in towards him.

"Do you want to?" you said slyly, your lips inches from his.

Your hand slowly reached out for his, grasping it gently before bringing it to your breast and allowing him to cup it. A shaky sigh blew past his plump lips, his gaze flitting down to your chest as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over your sensitive nipple gently.

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think. Before he could remember the vow that he had made not long ago. Your sweet scent of firewood and pine was like truth serum to his senses. "More than anything."

His gentle, pleading words were enough for you to bring your lips to his, enveloping in the taste of him as you moved swiftly onto his lap, lips moving in sync hungrily as if he would be your last.

His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard chest. As you lowered your hips down onto his lap, you could feel him hard against your core, making you gasp in surprise.

You laughed gently under your breath in excitement as his eyes fluttered shut, not being able to help yourself as you began to slowly grind against him, earning a low and shaky whimper from his throat.

It was like music to your ears; his soft whimpers and pants. When you had been with other wildling men, they grunted and groaned as they worked their way in and out of you, almost animalistic. Jon was different.

"Do you like it when I do this?" You cooed in his ear. His moans were soft and desperate as he yearned for more of your touch, his hands gentle and needy as they grasped at your hips and worked you across his lap slowly.

He had no idea how much of an effect it had on you. How his exasperated pants made something foreign blossom in your chest and spread down to your lower half.

"Please," he begged as he pulled away from your lips, looking up at you with an adoration you had never seen from any free folk. You had him wrapped around your finger, drunk on your warm touch. Nothing could've riled you up more.

"You can have me however you want," you promised him, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. Slowly, you pulled your undershirt off over your head before wriggling out of your thin pants, leaving your body bare and on display for him. "You're mine now, Jon Snow."

Your hand traveled down slowly between your bodies, running over the front of his trousers and cupping his hard-on, dancing your fingers across it tauntingly. "But first, let me help you with this."

Your fingers quickly worked at the ties at his trousers, pulling it open and helping him get rid of them before assisting him in removing his heavy furs and leathers and throwing them to the side, leaving him bare and warm beneath you, his pale, toned skin burning against your own.

Carefully, you sat back down on his lap, sitting at the edge of his knees so you could get a good look at him splayed out before you. Excitement buzzed in your chest at the sight of his reddened tip, leaking with precum practically begging to be touched.

With a soft look, your hand grasped his hardened cock gently, making him shudder at the sudden contact.

The feeling was foreign to him; Sure, he had used his own hand once or twice to relieve himself when he was feeling desperate, but his calloused and thick hands didn't compare to your small, soft, and experienced ones as you began to pump him gently.

"O-Oh," he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut as you rubbed him carefully, allowing your forehead to press gently to his. You could feel his soft, warm pants fanning against your face, gentle moans falling from his lips every so often.

"You're so good for me," you whispered to him, your thumb running over the slit at the head of his cock, earning a shaky gasp from him. Your lips peppered kisses against his, before moving slowly to his cheeks and working your way down his jaw tauntingly.

The feeling of your lips leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the skin of his neck and collarbone made him ecstatic. He didn't know what he had done to earn such a heavenly gift from the gods, but he knew he never wanted this to end. He never wanted to be without your touch.

"F-Fuck," he whined, entranced by the look of desire in your eyes as you rubbed him.

His toned stomach contracted gently, his abs tensing as he inched closer and closer to his release. His moans became more guttural, incoherent mumbles to the sound of your name filling your ears.

"I'm g-gonna-" he warned, his eyes fluttering shut. But, before he could finish his sentence, hot, white spurts of his release shot onto his stomach, painting him sinfully as a shaky groan rumbled in his chest in response. It lit something inside you, the way he trembled beneath your touch and moaned your name as if it were a prayer. You could drown in it.

Carefully, you reached for the undershirt you had thrown off and wiped his stomach clean, not caring you had dirtied it and would have to wash it by hand on the morrow.

A calm silence fell between you, allowing his forehead to fall to the crook of your neck as his hands snaked around your waist, pulling your chest flush against his. Your warmth was something he wanted to live in forever. He never wanted to leave this tent.

"You're so-" he mumbled against your skin, his breath faltering as he tried to find the right words. "You're so good at that."

You couldn't help but blush. The way he worshipped you made you ecstatic, your hands raking through his dark curls as you tilted his head up to look at you.

"Can I kiss you?" he rasped. His eyes were full of want, his eyebrows pulling together slightly as he pawed at the flesh of your thigh. Carefully, you moved to bring your lips to his with a wide grin but he stopped you, pulling his head to the side tauntingly.

He shook his head gently. "Not there."

You didn't understand what he meant. Kiss you where?

Cautiously, he pulled you off of his lap and laid you down on the soft furs, his body hovering over yours as he slotted himself in between your legs.

He began to make his way down your body with gentle kisses, nipping at your supple skin as he trailed from the crook of your neck to all the way down between your plush thighs, leaving little love bites in the wake of his mouth as he inched dangerously close to where you needed him most.

"Getting brave, aren't we?" you taunt, his hands moving to tuck your legs onto his shoulders before he gripped your hips with both of his hands firmly, holding you in place as you could feel his warm breath fanning against your glistening core.

He ignored your snide remark, wasting no time before licking a clean stripe against your cunt and beginning to work away at you, his eyes fluttering shut at the sound of your euphoric moans.

Your face contorted with pleasure as you felt his lips wrap around your clit, gently sucking at it, before cautiously bringing his middle and ring fingers to your core and allowing them to curl in an upward motion blissfully.

You had never felt anything like this before. The way his tongue moved against your folds made you ecstatic, wondering what they put in the southern water to make him so good at what he was doing.

"J-Jon," you gasped, your fingers combing through his dark locks and giving them a good tug, earning a moan from him as it vibrated against your core and only pushed you closer to your high. Your thighs clenched around his head in an attempt to pull him closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing up against your clit just enough to make you jolt with a shaky gasp.

He enticed moans out of you like never before, licking and sucking at your core in ways you didn't even know were possible. He seemed so skilled for claiming to have never touched a woman before. Could he have been lying to you?

Your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as you saw his hips begin to grind slowly against the furs as he lapped away at your core, his cock hard once more from the sweet taste of you. Moans grumbled in his chest as he squeezed your thighs tighter, his fingers sure to leave bruises on your supple skin.

The abrupt feeling of his fingers pulling out of your core made you whine. But his tongue entering you was enough to make you see stars, your back arching up off the soft furs as you could feel the tight coil in your stomach begin to snap.

Your wanton moans filled his ears, loud enough to be heard by the rest of the camp, but you didn't care. Your only concern was him and your climax—which wasn't far off.

"Gods!" your heel dug into the middle of his muscular back as you gripped the furs at your side, your orgasm washing over you unlike ever before. Your thighs trembled gently around Jon's head, his mouth pulling away from your core, his chin glistening with your release as he watched you with a lazy smile while you writhed in pleasure before him.

He pulled himself up so he was hovering over you once more, his face a mere few inches from yours as your chest heaved up and down, coming down from your high. Your eyelids felt heavy as he gripped your hip, and the sheer look of lust in his eyes made your lips crash against his hungrily.

You could taste your release on his lips as his tongue slipped into your mouth, not even thinking before wrapping your legs around his waist and flipping him over on the furs, now sitting on his lap as he laid breathlessly beneath you.

You smiled at the way he looked up at you with want, his hands playing with the flesh of your ass impatiently. His hardened cock beneath your wet core made it hard for you to concentrate, but you still managed to roll your hips against his tauntingly.

"Just lay there, sweet. Let me give you what you want," you rasped, your hands splayed flat on his chest as your teasing became nearly unbearable for him.

"Please," he pleaded. "I need to feel you."

Slowly, you brought your hand to grasp him gently, giving him a few pumps before guiding him towards your entrance as you hovered over him, your eyes not leaving his as you sank down onto him.

Relieved moans left your mouths in unison, your cunt stretching around him sweeter than he could imagine. Your warmth made his heart flutter, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he waited for you to move.

Soft whimpers filled the space between you as your hips slowly began to roll across his lap, your nails raking down the front of his toned chest as you fell into a steady pace. His mind was fogged with the sheer sight of you on top of him, finding the gentle bounce of your breasts with every movement entrancing.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he breathed, his head falling back as he screwed his eyes shut, which couldn't help but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core. You couldn't help yourself when your fingers trailed to your clit and began to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves back and forth, clenching around his length with each roll of your hips.

"Gods," he cursed, sitting up from his spot on the soft furs as you still guided your hips back and forth on his cock.

Your arm automatically slung around his broad shoulders as his own pulled you closer to him by your waist while he propped himself up with his free hand, allowing him to thrust up inside of you and reach deeper than before.

The way the tip of his cock just barely brushed your cervix enraptured you. You were finding it very hard to believe that he had never done this before.

"Right there," you panted out, gripping his bare shoulder so hard your fingernails were sure to leave tiny crescent indents in his skin. His pace quickened, slowly becoming more desperate and sloppy as your moans grew with it. You were sure the entire camp could've heard the lot of you by now.

His lips met yours in an instant, a poor attempt on Jon's part at silencing you as best he could. You allowed his tongue to roam your mouth, your fingers collecting at the nape of his neck to hold him closer to you. But to his surprise―with a sudden thrust of his hips―your teeth caught his bottom lip with a moan.

"Ahh," he hissed, the metallic taste of blood collecting at the front of his mouth. He pulled back, panting heavily as the look of lust didn't leave his eyes. Your lips were reddened and wet, and the way your tongue poked out barely to wipe them clean made a low groan rumble in his chest.

Within an instant, he smashed his lips back onto yours, pushing you back so you were laying flat on the furs now with his hips between your legs, his length still inside of you as he wasted no time to begin a steady pace pistoning in and out of you messily.

"Jon!" you moaned, his cock stretching you perfectly with each thrust. His lips attacked at the supple skin of your neck, peppering little love bites trailing down over your collarbone. You could feel him wince between moans against your skin as your nails dug into his back uncontrollably, leaving long, reddened welts along his pale skin.

Your fingers trailed slowly up to his hair, giving it a good tug as you brought his lips to yours. Your movements earned a low grumble in the back of his throat in response, his hips beginning to stutter as he could feel his climax rising.

You weren't far off either, with his sweet, incandescent moans that made the coil in your stomach tighten filling your ears. "Are you gonna come for me, baby?"

A guttural moan ripped through Jon's throat at your soft whispers, unable to form words as he nodded his head breathlessly. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, his last few thrusts hard and deep before pulling out of you—just enough to send you over the edge of your high.

You swiftly propped yourself up on your elbows, breathless from your climax as he pumped his shaft a few times before releasing himself all over your stomach and chest. His face contorted with pleasure as you watched him with amazement, a sly smirk creeping on your face as he came hard.

A gentle silence fell between the two of you as he caught his breath, moving to lay next to you on the soft furs and wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling you close to his side. His warmth burned against your cheek as you laid your head on his chest, running your fingers lazily across his skin.

"You were right," he whispered against your hair, pressing a kiss to your head as you snuggled your face into the crook of his neck. You smiled against his skin, "How so?"

You lifted your head up, meeting his darling brown eyes as a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I'm far much warmer with you."

#jon snow smut #jon snow #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #fanfic #scarlet was here!#jon snow x reader

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krkiiz · 11 months ago

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mastermind . luke castellan x reader

maybe the things that led luke to you were never accidental at all

luke castellan x f!reader . reader is the daughter of demeter . tooth rotting fluff , established relationship , nicknames

note : this is inspired by mother tay tay’s song “mastermind” (one of my fav songs in midnights frr) not edited! sorry for some mistakes. Hope you enjoy <3

The camp was never silent. Songs of birds echoed all across the painted skies, gallops of pegasus clapping through the fields, chatters of the half-bloods, sounds of clashing swords, shots of arrows. The camp was never silent.

Yet the two of you sat on the edge of a cliff, the camp’s background noises fully muted, too engrossed with each other’s presence as your hands interlaced as one.

From the top, you could see the overview of the camp. As the sun sets on the west, you get the best view of the skies painted in an orange hue, with hints of blue as the moon begins to rise.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Eyes still on the canvas of clouds, you asked your boyfriend beside you.

“Of course I do, flower.” A small chuckle blew from his lips. “How could I ever forget.” The boy smiled, recalling his encounter with you a few months back.

You tore your gaze from the orange hues to the boy by your side, raising an eyebrow of amusement.

“No, literally. I tripped and got stuck on a vine, and you helped me. It was so embarrassing, I swear, sunshine.” You tilt your head back, erupting in laughter as your boyfriend covered his face that was now as red as strawberries that grew in the camp’s garden.

“That was hell of a first impression, though.” You pointed out. “What were you even doing in the woods alone, by the way?” You asked the boy, curiosity grew in your heart akin to sprouting apples on a tree.

“I don’t know, I guess I felt drawn.” He shrugged sheepishly.

“Drawn? To the forest?”

“To you, flower.” He winked and you rolled your eyes playfully. “Ew Luke, get away or I’ll push you off this cliff right now.”

Luke glowed as he dove into the epiphany of laughters and you joined soon after. “I’m just kidding.” He pinched your cheek softly triggering a frown from you.

“Do you remember the next time that we met?” You tore your gaze from your boyfriend, eyes now settling on the deep blue that was slowly taking over the horizon as the orange tinge melts in the west. The setting sun was truly a sight to behold. But to Luke, no creations of the gods or even titans could ever compare to the beauty of the demigod by his side

Not hearing an answer, you turned your head towards the curly haired boy, the view of his pupils dilating as your e/c hues melted into his own clear as daylight. “Love? Is everything alright?”

Luke now understood how Hades had fall for Persephone as he had found himself entranced by the beauty of another one of Demeter’s daughter before him. The light breeze flushed against your cheeks, how you would always look beautiful even when your hair becomes a mess after training. How your skin glowed in sunlight rivaling Apollo’s children themselves. To Luke, you are his epitome of beauty. Like a single rose that stood amidst thorn bushes. But he has to be careful. One prick is all it takes to let his heart bleed out in his hands.

“Hm? Oh yeah everything’s fine. Don’t worry, darling.” He shifted closer, his fingers grazing yours. “Anyways as you were asking, yes I remember our second meeting. And our meetings after that and after that.” He smiled, recalling the memories.

“We keep meeting up by accident after that first meeting.” He chuckled softly.

You hummed. “Don’t you think it’s weird though? How we keep meeting accidentally after that?” You tilt your head slightly.

“Maybe fate brought us together. Who knows?”

“Yes…” You trailed off. “Or maybe it’s something else.” You started playing with his fingers that was laced with yours, but your eyes remained on him as you observed the slightest shift in his visage.

“What are you saying, flower?”

“What if I told you that…none of it was ever accidental at all?”

Silence engulfed you in the shape of a cold, harsh breeze. The sun was long gone by now. From here, you could see the luminescent glow of Artemis’ vacant cabin, as well as the campfire that brew from the other campers.

Your heart ached at the gap between you as Luke as he slowly untangle your fingers. From outside, you look the same as ever, waiting patiently for his response. Inside however, your head was screaming in every corner, anxious thoughts clouding your thought bubbles as you think of every worst possible scenarios that might happen.

Great job! He probably think you’re a stalker now and wants to break up with you.

Break up? You didn’t want to break up with him! Of course not, you love him and he loves you! … Right?

The storm that was raining all over your thoughts were soon crushed by the slight upturn that formed on one of the corners of your boyfriend’s lip.

He noticed your slightly stiff stance, he took your departed hands once more, knowing it will ease your nerves. “I know, Yn.”

You always loved how your name rolled off his tongue. So effortlessly as it calls your given name with such love, such adoration. Yet it was his answer that got you off guard.

“Really?? You knew, after all this time?”

“You really think you can trick the son of the god of tricks?” He pointed out, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“This is so embarrassing.” You bury your blood-rushed cheeks into your palms and Luke smiled at the sight, admiring the red hue that settled on your ears and face.

“Hey don’t be! Truth be told, I only found out from the nymphs.” Your eyes lit up at his confession. Maybe your plan wasn’t that horrible after all. “Well I mean that only confirmed it. I had my suspicions about your little master plan after our third time of meeting accidentally.”

Your groan in your hands. “What did the nymphs tell you?”

“That you had a crush on me.” He paused looking at your tomato face. “And that you were too shy to make the first move.” He peeled your fingers from your cheeks, revealing the scarlet hues on your facial epidermis.

“It was impressive though, you little mastermind. It worked didn’t it?” He placed his palms on your cheeks, caressing it like a fragile vase.

You brought him closer, leaning your forehead against his as you brushes your lips on the tip of his nose. “Yeah. I guess it did.”

The demigod frowned as he missed the presence of your lips on his skin. He leant more forward, your noses grazed each other and he finally sealed the distance of your lips with a soft kiss.

The moon shone with a glow more ethereal than usual, the stars map out the skies like seas of glitter. You both dove head first into the epiphany of love. Lips press against another as nature becomes the witness of two demigods’ form of adoration.

©️ sirena | krkiiz 2023

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson #pjo show #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #luke x reader #demigods

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helianthus-tarot · 4 months ago

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FUTURE SPOUSE: Your first meeting with their family

As written in the title. I posted the extended version on my Patreon which includes what their family will think about you (their first impression of you) and what they will think about the relationship! 👀❤️

Disclaimer: Here | Instagram: Here

Instructions: Focus on the topic and ask yourself the question. Choose a number/picture that you feel the most drawn to or that you can’t stop looking at. Trust your intuition. May the message resonate. Let me know which pile you choose! Feedback is appreciated!

Like my readings? Tip here!

PILE 1

First meeting: The Tower, Queen of Cups, The Hierophant (The Sun), 5 of Pentacles (8 of Swords), 7 of Cups (6 of Wands).

It will probably happen by accident. It could happen when you and your person are both out and you guys run into one another. For some of you though, it’ll happen when you both are at your person’s place; so their family members could suddenly knock on the door, and you might start freaking out, especially if you are not ‘supposed’ to be there, especially if it’s nighttime. Maybe you’re from a conservative culture, or your person is, or maybe it’s not appropriate, etc. Whatever it is, there will be a feeling of chaos or panic at first, or the situation itself may be a bit chaotic or out of order. Some of you could meet their family when your relationship hasn’t been properly established yet, so it may feel like it’s a bit out of order; this meeting isn’t supposed to happen at this time because it could cause complications. Something like that.

I think there will be at least two people that you’ll meet; probably the maternal influence and paternal influence in your person's life, or the main feminine and masculine figures in their life. Most likely they are your person’s mother and father. For others of you, it could be the person who does the nurturing and caretaking, and the person who sets boundaries and supports the family (regardless of their genders or status in the family). The feminine figure will be warm and nice towards you, they may act like nothing is amiss and they’re all right with you there; they're giving the vibe of someone who brings cupcakes and fruits when they visit lol. You will sense their interest and curiosity about you, but they will probably focus more on your person at that time, e.g. talking with your person, asking about your person’s life and whatnot.

Now, The Hierophant and The Sun both fell horizontally, almost in reverse, so I’m going to interpret them as such; whoever the masculine or paternal influence here, this person may not seem like they are happy to see you. Honestly, they may not talk much, they may not show much emotion, hence why they’ll seem that way. They may also come across a bit more stern and traditional.

So there’s a possibility that you may feel a bit rejected. Because like I said, the masculine figure may not react much, and I feel like the feminine figure may not focus on you, perhaps out of consideration or perhaps because they don’t want to push your person to reveal everything about you two that day, but this can also come across like they don’t really care about you. It’s hard to explain, because they’ll seem like they are nice and caring, but at the same time they’re not that focused on you. Also, the masculine person could say something about appropriateness, manners, rules, and whatnot. I don’t think they will admonish you though, I don’t think they will address you that day, to be honest. Either they won’t say anything at all, or they could make a subtle comment about it to your person. You could feel like they don’t like you much, or you’ll feel like they don’t see you as the right partner for your person. You will be overthinking it a bit.

But the meeting will end with you still feeling hopeful, not sure why, it could be due to their body language towards you at the end, like, the feminine person could smile or pat you on the arm as they leave, or your person might explain their personalities to you after they’ve left and say something that makes you feel like the meeting wasn’t bad at all. Maybe your person won’t look worried. So you will hold on to your hope and optimism.

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What will they think about you? What kind of person will they think you are? And what will they think about your relationship with your person? Will they approve?👀📝

PILE 2

First meeting: Ace of Cups, 2 of Wands, Ace of Wands, Judgement, The Magician, Knight of Cups.

This meeting will be planned. It could happen outside, like, maybe a family outing or a gathering, and you’ll be there to join them. For some of you, it could be a camping trip, or just somewhere you guys can do activities, like having a barbecue or doing something together. So you probably won’t just sit and talk. You or your person could choose this day or this event to meet their family for the first time because doing an activity together can take some focus off you and help you and their family bond through shared activity. The overall energy of this meeting feels quite nice and positive, but there’s also underlying significance and seriousness, which I’ll explain later.

The meeting may start with a warm welcome, “oh you’re XYZ, they’ve told me a lot about you” or something like that, with smiles and welcoming gestures. You guys may then talk about the weather, the inconsequential things like the traffic jam, or the day, the place, and whatnot. Whatever they’ll do that day, it may cause you to open up or have to show yourself; so either you’ll have to show yourself through the activity that you guys will be doing, or they’ll ask you questions and make you come out more. Their family will be very interactive, responsive and open. They’ll move here and there; there’ll be a lot of energy. They will want to get to know you, especially you guys’ plans with each other and your true intention; e.g. where you see this connection going, what’s your next plan, what are you working on in your life, what you see in your future together, etc. For some of you, the activity you’ll do that day will bring out your talents, skills or expertise.

But like I said, there’s something significant about this that may not just be about two people coming together and potentially getting married. For some of you, this meeting is a sign or a mark of a big change, especially a change that includes leaving something sad or negative behind. You, your person or their family will recognise this for what it is; they’ll see this meeting as a full stop to whatever has happened in the past, and they’ll be aware of what’s coming next and what this means.

Some of you may have been married before, or your person has, and so being together means you’re moving forward and changing that part of your life for real. If it’s not someone having been divorced/married, you two being together could involve some massive life change; relocation, or being distant or moving away from your/their family or something in your past. It doesn’t feel like the normal change. It feels spiritually significant, kinda heavy and potentially negative too. I’m not saying there will be something negative about you two, but maybe there’s leftover negative energy from the past. It’s like Fate is being moulded and created in front of your eyes, and a path is being established and aimed in a new direction; and everyone knows it. There may be some conflicting feelings about this change (someone might overthink it a bit), but overall, the meeting itself will be positive.

The meeting will end well, you guys may also make new plans to meet again, exchange pleasantries and good wishes. Their family could offer you something, and you could offer something back. For example, they could offer to bake a cake or show their kittens when you come over to their house, and you could offer to bring a gift or a painting that you have made. There will be offers of love and care.

PILE 3

First meeting: 3 of Cups, Knight of Wands (2 of Pentacles), The High Priestess, King of Swords, 7 of Swords. 9 of Swords.

A lot of cards didn’t fall fully upright, so I think there will be some reluctance, most likely on your part. Because when I asked for a card to represent the hidden energy, you got 9 of Swords; so it’s possible that you will have been overthinking this or been stressing about this, and may be not looking forward to the meeting, for whatever reason (it could just be nerves). For some of you, you may have been putting off this meeting; not actively, but perhaps subconsciously. For others of you, this may not be the first meeting, as in, you will have met their family members briefly before (or talked with them online, or via text). So this may be the first long, proper meeting you’ll have.

Either it will happen at an event, like a party or an open house or a wedding, or the meeting itself will be a social gathering that involves multiple family members. Your person could have a lot of family members who are extroverted (or this is the vibe you’ll get). You will be welcomed warmly, there’ll be obvious emotional expressions or obvious welcoming gestures. But at the same time, being there could feel like you’re being lowkey judged, or they’ll seem like they talk behind your back. I’m not sure if this will actually happen, or if the meeting will feel that way because of your nerves and your own negative energy (maybe you’ve had bad experiences dealing with a group of people, or being in a group).

You may be someone who’s in your head quite a lot. You may be intuitive but you probably have a tendency to overthink, which can make things a bit more complicated, because now you don’t know if it’s your intuition or if it’s just your past trauma or issues. You will also feel like something is being hidden from you, maybe you’ll pick up on subtle energies or body language from your person’s family. But just keep in mind, just because people hide something, it doesn’t necessarily mean they are hiding something bad or negative.

I think there will also be extended family members; I’m not seeing much of their parents or main guardians’ energies; so it could be that your person doesn’t have those, or it could be that you will be more focused on these other people. There may be several cousins, both men and women. Maybe siblings as well. Whoever these people are, they may seem like they’re quite close-knit; ‘going to different places together’, ‘giggling with each other’, ‘inside jokes’ kind of vibe. Hence why they’ll seem like potential ‘mean girls’ to you (when they may not be) regardless of their genders. Some of you may have been bullied before or have experienced being treated terribly by a group of people, so this meeting could bring that wound to the surface.

There’ll be a masculine person (regardless of gender), a cousin I think, who will be quite flirtatious, this person may tease you or make flirty comments and the rest of the family could laugh or tell them off, but in a joking manner. If you are on the spectrum, the whole thing may seem a bit confusing because you won’t feel sure if they’re on your side or they’re also making fun of you. The thing is, I’m not getting negative energy from them, it’s not clear from the cards; what’s clear here is your anxious, sceptical energy.

One of the reasons why this meeting could stress you out a bit, is probably because you will feel like you have to exaggerate or overly express yourself, you’ll feel like you have to put yourself out there more. If you are an introvert, you’ll feel like you have to be an extrovert. Whatever it is, you’ll feel like you have to show more than how you normally behave. And again, this could be the pressure you put on yourself, or it could be something you expect from yourself due to your past experiences. You may be a bit restrained, like you’re there to observe before you act. Which can cause that masculine person to tease you even more (some people are like that, they like to poke quiet people just to see who you are underneath your silence and reservations).

There may be another masculine figure (regardless of the gender, but probably the father) who can sound a bit stern and strict when they talk to you, like they’re assessing you and your intention and your plans with your person. It’s probably just their personality. Honestly, I’m not getting a message about them hating you or being mean towards you, but again, this is a general reading. Overall, I think the meeting will end with you still feeling unsure about who you can trust in the family, or what they think of you, etc. You may feel like you just want to hide and be alone or spend some time with your person after that.

PILE 4

First meeting: Page of Wands, 10 of Wands (9 of Swords, 7 of Cups Rx), 4 of Wands, The Tower (7 of Wands), The Hermit.

You will approach this situation with optimism, openness, and just... generally being your true self. Some of you probably have some innocent, pure, childlike vibe; like you don’t expect the worst from people, or that you don’t think/assume negatively about people. This meeting may require you to travel a bit more than usual (which makes sense). Either going to meet their family will require some effort on your part (e.g. need to arrange time, and buy tickets and whatnot), or there will be a lot of things going on during the meeting itself.

I think there’ll be something unexpected about this meeting; it’s like you entering this situation having expected one thing but getting another thing. At some point, you could feel like you’re being asked to do more or to give more. I don’t want to say ‘perform’ but it feels like you’re being asked (indirectly or directly) to meet their expectation in some way, or to do something to please them; which won’t be what you expected at all. This could be anything really, it doesn’t have to be some outlandish thing, but it may put some pressure on you and make you overthink a bit.

For example, they could say or do something that implies their expectations, but they do it in a nice, smiley, socially appropriate way. I can only give Asian example since I’m Asian; for example, if you’re a woman, it’s like they expect you to join them in the kitchen and cook something with them on that very first day (it’s not unusual, some people legit let their future daughter-in-law do the dishes just to test the girl smh, but this also depends on what type of Asian they are, of course). If you’re a man, then they may expect you to carry some stuff for them that day. Something like that. Don’t misunderstand, they’ll be welcoming and warm towards you, the house may be beautiful as well and they could have decorated it a bit to welcome you.

But yeah, it really depends on what kind of thing they expect from their people, or from people they intend to welcome into their family, if that makes sense. They may start expecting you to be that way as well, for the sake of the family or for the sake of harmony. Again, there will be something unexpected; they could ask you unexpected questions, or something nerve-wracking suddenly happens, like a mistake, an accident, etc.

Whatever the situation will be, it could make you feel like you have to stand strong within yourself, for some of you it may feel like you have to prove or defend yourself a little. For others of you, you could find out something unexpected too, about your person’s family or about your person. And this thing will shift your perspective big time, it will shock you a bit. It won’t necessarily be bad, this depends on your specific case, but it may be shocking. Like “do you know that your person used to be a part of a gang?” That kind of thing. But I think it’ll mostly be something that makes you feel like you need to defend your position, something that challenges you, I just couldn’t think of an example.

You’ll leave that meeting with a lot of things to think about. This could be good, or could be bad. But some of you may withdraw into yourself to ponder things a bit, to understand your experience from a different angle, to understand why you feel/think what you feel/think, etc. So some adjustments or some shifts in mentality could happen after the meeting. Some of you may feel disappointed about some things, some of you will choose to learn from the experience.

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarotblr #future spouse #tarot readers #tarot community #divination #pick a picture #free tarot readings #pick an image #love tarot readings #free tarot #pac #future spouse tarot #love tarot

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revelboo · 1 month ago

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Do you mind writing an Optimus Prime part 2? Whenever 😄 inspiration finds you.

Sure! Also, I just accidentally found out that a single post can’t have over 100 links in it by accident with my Masterlist... Guess I get to par that down to the first chapters of everything and add actual previous/next links to the individual posts to navigate within a storyline.

And I’ve had a few people speculating about it and tried to make it a bit clearer now on the masterlist: the IDW stuff is all one big continuity with Lost Light and the random kink snippets clearly separated as alternate takes/AUs now.

Gravity pt 2

Optimus x Reader

• “You’re going to give them a heart attack when they come to if you don’t stop looming like that,” Ratchet mutters and Optimus looks up trying to decide if his old friend is joking. Given the frown, Ratchet’s serious and he’s not sure what to make of that. He’d known humans were fragile, but your heart can just stop? From fear? “They’re a little banged up, but fine,” Ratchet adds as Optimus stretches out a servo to touch your still form and then hesitates. You’re just so tiny, he’s not sure he can touch you without breaking you. “Who are you giving this one to?”

• Like it’s a forgone conclusion he’ll pawn watching over you on someone else. Someone less busy, less weighed down with duty. “It’s my responsibility,” he says, watching your chest rise and fall. You’ve been out since he caught you and so very still. He keeps his optics on you so he doesn’t have to see Ratchet’s expression. Because this is his responsibility and his guilt. He knows it’s not fair to trap you on the Ark, but keeping the surviving Autobots safe is his priority. And the other humans seem fine. Mostly.

• “Bumblebee would take them,” Ratchet offers, a hand touching his arm. “I think he’d be glad of the company.” Shaking his head, Optimus carefully curls his servos around your limp form and lifts you. Hears Ratchet venting tiredly behind him as he walks out and carries you through the halls to his quarters. Trailbreaker and Hound both turning to look when he walks by, curious. Maybe it’s been a mistake to try to keep his people far from humans. Maybe not. Sideswipe probably won’t be the last to abuse his rules, but he’s not ready to trust the humans to not betray them yet. He can’t.

• Your head is ringing, sinuses burning as you stiffly shift and your body complains about it. Why do you feel like one big bruise? There’s a blanket wrapped around you, but whatever you’re laying on isn’t that soft. Something presses so gently between your shoulder blades that it’s a ghost of a touch then slides down your spine. Repeats the stroke. Lifting your head, you squint up at a huge face staring down at you and everything slams back into focus. The Jeep that wasn’t a Jeep. The wreck. Giant, alien robots. One of which is holding you in one hand while it runs a huge finger down your spine again and again. You start shaking. That petting stopping when it notices.

• You’re awake. And not screaming. That has to be good thing, but remembering Ratchet’s warning, he rumbles and presses a servo carefully over your heart. It’s not stopped, but it is racing. A little, warm hand lands on his servo, your eyes wide in fear as you just tremble. And he understands, you have to realize how tiny you are compared to him, how easily you can be hurt. “You’re going to be okay, little one. I have you,” he says, optics snared on that tiny hand on his. And he knows he’ll protect you just like his Autobots. Be sword or shield for you, whatever you need. You’re his to care for now, that trembling fear hurting him to see.

• That rumbly, deep voice sings in your bones where you’re touching him, because that voice erased any doubts. Blue eyes is definitely a he. And as crazy as it is, you believe him despite the fear. There’s an earnestness in that voice that’s almost a promise of safety. Wonder mingles with the fear still thrumming through you as you stare at those pretty glowing eyes and think that they look unbelievably kind. The thought almost immediately followed with the certainty that you probably have a concussion.

#optimus prime x reader #idw optimus prime #transformers x reader

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astrophileous · 1 year ago

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Hmmmmm for Hotch maybe him lowkey coddling reader when she gets hurt shortly during a case shortly after they start dating? Maybe the team wasn’t aware until they saw him fret this much when he had never done it to this level in the past? 🥹

Thanks for the request babes!! My first Aaron fic ever, so hopefully it's not too bad for a first 🥺 I hope this is to your liking ❤️

Warning(s): gn!reader, established relationship, talks of traffic accident, mentions of injuries, protective hotch, mean words (hotch is just worried abt you ok??)

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You heard him before you even laid eyes upon him.

Amidst the beeping machines and the moderate ruckus of the emergency room, Aaron's voice penetrated the air like a sword. The authority dripped like lava from his tone as he badgered Derek for your whereabouts, and before you could shuffle out of the hospital bed that had been your safe haven for the past hour, the cubical curtain surrounding you was suddenly yanked open.

Your movements ceased once you locked eyes with a frowning Aaron Hotchner.

"Hey—"

"Are you insane?"

You looked at him dumbfoundedly.

"Do you have a death wish? Is that it? Or are you just stupid?"

A few feet behind him, you could see Derek and Emily exchanging silent looks between the two of them. Everyone knew that Aaron was notorious for being frigid, and he had a strong impartiality when it came to any of his team members doing something impetuous on the field, but the words seeping out of Aaron's mouth at that moment sounded overtly harsh to those who knew him.

"Hotch—" Derek took a step forward, trying to come to your defense, "—it's not (Y/N)'s fault."

"I'm not talking to you." Aaron's response was cutting and final. It baffled Derek enough for him to trace his step back.

"What's wrong with you?" you asked once the shock dissipated, returning your voice to its rightful owner once more. "Why are you being like this?"

"Me? You're asking me? I should be the one asking you."

Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "We were chasing the UnSub—"

"You went rogue," he cut you off. "Morgan told me everything. There's no point in denying it."

Derek raised his arms in surrender when your stare of betrayal slid his way. "Fine. I'm sorry I grabbed a random civilian's bike and crashed it against the UnSub's car. You don't have to worry about paying anything back, I'll figure something out."

"Is that what you think this is about?" Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. "I could care less about monetary compensations. We can deal with that later. You could've been killed, don't you understand?"

It was his last admission that finally made the pieces in your head click into place. Beneath the anger inside Aaron's words was actually a hidden anxiety ready to break free. He was worried about you, even if he was showing it in the least hospitable way possible.

Your relationship with Aaron was young; green around the edges and blooming every single day like tulips in spring. Nobody else in the world knew about it yet, and the two of you wanted to keep it that way. At least, that was what you agreed upon after having that lengthy discussion following your first official date.

And yet, none of that mattered when your fingers opted to reach out for Aaron's hand. You pretended not to notice the gasp that Emily let out as you urged your boyfriend to look into your eyes.

"I know you're worried, but I'm fine. I'm right here with you, and I'm okay." Aaron's shoulders physically collapsed at your reassurance. Every other noise in the hospital seemed to drown out in the aftermath. "The doctor's gonna clear me in no time, trust me."

"It still doesn't erase the fact that what you did was reckless." Aaron stepped closer towards the bed, overcrowding your senses as his thumb swept over your left eyebrow, just below the wound you had obtained from the crash. "Does it hurt?"

You shook your head no. The injury to your head was relatively minor. Your arm, on the other hand, was sustaining a quite sizable gash from your collision with the car.

Aaron's eyes followed your gaze that had meandered towards the gauze covering your arm. "How many stitches?"

Reluctantly, you answered, "Seven."

You heard his sharp breath before he turned around to face Derek. "Where's the UnSub now?"

Derek jerked his head to the right, where you reckoned the UnSub was being treated for their own injuries from the crash. The words of protest died in your throat as Aaron began to saunter to the other end of the ER with Derek hot on his heels.

With the two men's departure, Emily was the only one who remained.

"So—" she smiled knowingly, leaning against the foot of your bed, "—you and Hotch? When did that happen?"

You slammed your head back on the pillow, muffling your groan with your uninjured arm. "Shut up."

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mehiwilldoitlater · 2 months ago

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please my dear author , please!!!!! I'm begging you, Give me satisfaction with your story, please😭❤️...

May i've a reaquest headcannon for, wife s/o x sun wukong,They both are always together and fight together, even die together 😭... Please my dear author, you are my only hope .

(btw, s/o is good at healing magic, she even fights using magic)

How funny and how ironic, Wukong thought, to be held in his last moments in the arms of the sword brother that once he had tò defeat in battle.

His breath reduced by a raspy whisper, his chest now covered in blood by the wound... eh, come to think of it, he didn't feel any pain now, just numbness.

His hears, then, grasped One of the many breaths there, one that, like him, was reaching their last moments. He could recognize that breath between thousands, and then he sensed a feeling of dread. He wanted to reach her. The bull sensed his desire and obliged.

In a pool of blood, a feminine body lay. Her chest covered in arrows, her once white hanfu now in a Splendid Crimson shade. The eyes of the monkey gleam from the sad view.

A bride, even in her last moments. His bride, his wife, his everything.

You were his, and he was yours, and so the sage wanted to be until the end.

The bull was able to lay him down next to you, a small moment of peace on the battlefield.

You two really did a lot together?

///

You were mere servants for one of the seven fairies, a body between many. You never asked for something more, you never asked to be different, and you never asked to be noticed by anyone. Too much trouble, you always thought.

But you were different. Despite your humble position, you were born with abilities that, even amongst many immortals, were quite rare. Healing powers, a sacred ability that just a few could learn but were born with? You were special, but you just hoped for a humble life.

But even in the celestial realm, nothing can just stay the same.

You first saw him when he was ordered to the Jade Emperor. Hiding behind some officials and other servants, the first thing that caught you was his manners. He wasn't a bride; he was just treating the most important being in the world like some random people. You should be shocked, but... It's nice? You wondered what kind of person was the new keeper of the horses...

///

"Master Wukong Is Amazing!"

"Since he's the one who's taking care of the celestial steed, all of the beasts are in great shape!"

Wukong was always someone who loved the praise and the compliments, but something was quite off. It was true, he was the best keeper that the Celestial stables everything had, but he had noticed something a little strange.

Sometimes, maybe by accidents or by distraction of the owner, one of the horses came back injured or with some small wounds. He had always done his best to take care of them, of course, and the next day the same wound was soon gone. More than anyone, he was supposed to be happy or proud by this, but he knew something was playing a trick on him. Surely, another one would have believed that it was the same horse that had such an ability like that, or everything that stables themselves, but why then call for someone to take care of the horses if there was something like that?

One day, he finally knew the answer.

When the day was almost over and the Night Patrol deity started to prepare for his work, Wukong wanted to check on the horses and remembered that one of them seemed quite unwell after a bad day with its owner.

When he reached the stables, he seemed quite pleased to find the door unlocked, especially since he knew that all of his helpers had left for the night. He noticed there the light of a small lantern, and there he decided to move. Taking the form of a fly, he started to buzz in the direction of the light, and what he saw left him pleased.

"Poor one, did they mistreat you, uh?"

Your voice seemed so kind and gentle; the horse was immediately putty in your hands. Sitting on an overturned bucket, you gently caressed its snout and Maine, coercing it to give you its injured leg.

"I know what it means; don't worry, I'll treat you right away."

And, under the incredulous eyes of the Great Sage, a dim light started to shine in your hand, and, by just caressing it, the wound was good and gone!

"There, all done!" You said happily, keepnon caressing the horse, "Now you look good as new!"

The Great Sage couldn't control himself; you had picked up his curiosity like nothing before! Like a bolt, he immediately took back his true form and started you and the horse.

"Easy horse, brother!" He esclaimed, calming the beast, "Do not scare the precious one!"

You feel a sense of panic. You were caught, red-handed, in the celestial stables tending the horses that weren't even your own duty, by the keeper himself. You kneel before him, your face in the dirt, hoping to appeal to his kindness.

"Forgive me, master! I didn't intend to do any harm! I just wanted to cure these poor creatures! Please don't report me! I beg you!"

He looked at you with quite the interest, bent down to touch your head, laughing a little.

"Come now, precious one! I'm not in need of this kind of guidance! I punish who's wrong me, not who does good!"

You raised your head a little, your forhead dry from the mud of the pavement.

"You...you won't?"

"Not as long as you're going to share with me that trick of yours, precious one!"

"My Lord, I'm not precious at all! I'm just a servant."

"Tell me your name; even if you'll be precious to me!"

"I'm Y/N, master; I work under the Seven Fairies, daighters of the Jade Emperor. And...my powers are just my powers; I was born with them."

"Oh, a servant?!" He seemed indignant by your statement, "How can it be?! Such powers are for gods and immortals! Not for servants and cleaners! They had made a mistake with your position!"

"Oh, no, master! I'm where I wanted to be! I do not care for my position; I just enjoy my life as it is."

He pondered, Little, what a strange little thing you were. Such amazing powers, and yet so humble?! So interesting, very much indeed! He circled you a few times, causing you to emit a few giggles, even if you tried to keep them in your mouth.

"Say, do you like these horses?"

"Yes, master! Quite Indeed!"

"Then! Come to me every day at this same time! I want to know you better!"

///

And so you kept your promise. Every day, after your choirs, you were welcomed in his own palace, treated like an equal. Sometimes you've dined, sometimes you've just drunk tea, but every time talking with him seems so natural. You showed interest in his home, to the point that he wanted you to pay a visit there with him next time.

He loved having you around; you've never looked him down, always so modest and kind. You were truly a precious one to him! He never loses a chance to greate you, even in front of the other servants and celestials.

And so rumors started to spread.

The Bimawen found a friend in the Seven Fairies servant. The girl likes to spend time with horses and monkeys, they said. Some even complained that you smelled of animals.

Once, one of the seven sisters even forced you to take a bath and tò not touch anything until you were completely cleaned. It was so humiliating.

But you decide not to tell anything to the Bimawen, afraid of some reaction. And yet, something still happened.

One incautious immortal had decided that he needed to provoke the monkey and reveal his true position in the heavens! You were sure he was aware of it. Instead, they decided not to inform him! He was furious! He destroyed the stables and fled away from Heaven.

He had one regret: leave you there alongside those foolish arrogants! But he could not force you, not someone like you.

So imagine his surprise when the youngest monkey proclaimed to have captured an immortal, only to come to him withbyour in their grasp!

"Y/n?!" He screamed, reaching you with a jump and taking you in a bone-crashing hug. "My precious! Why are you here?! Did you finally decide to come and green my children?!"

"Oh Wukong," you caressed his head. "The Celestial Palace is enraged! They want to capture you! They're sending an army here!"

He laughed, finally setting you down, caressing your delicate hand.

"Old Wukong is not afraid of them; I'll let them regret having provoked the Great Sage equal to Heaven!"

And while you wondered when the battle could begin, he showed you his kingdom. A land with no palaces, no rules, only swore brothers and sisters that believed in each other's strength and power. They were equal in each eye, and all of them were ready to fight for each other. It felt right...

Sun Wukong had shown you to everyone with pride, calling you his precious one, the one that can heal with her hands. And even if he loved to braga about you to everyone, he had always shown respect and never forced you around. He wanted to praise you like he should, but he wanted you happy.

It was the first time in his life.

///

"My precious... I wonder...do any of those morsels up there ever tried to court you before?" He lay on the ground, enjoying your scratch on his head.

"Not at all, my Lord. They never looked me at all, and since I know you, they avoided me."

"It feels me with pride then! That I'm the only one that had the chance and the right to court you properly!"

"You...courting me, my lord?" Your cheeks took a crimson shade, embarrassed but yet intrigued.

"But...why me? Of all the matches, why me?"

"Because you had made something that a few had done, you had intrigued me." His hand taking yours, covering them in kisses, "so say yes, bye mine forever. Let's live in peace!"

And so, with a kiss on his lips, you accepted.

///

He did keep his promise; he defeated the immortals that had been sent to capture him. He forced him to find a new strategy, giving him what he wanted!

And most definitely, he decided to have you have his own. His wife, his precious wife, was the only one that he really cared to have by his side.

You wanted to be more—not for everyone to acknowledge you, but for him. Rakshasi had you as her disciple. She taught you, and she was able to unlock your true potential. And he knew, and he loved you for that.

When you both returned to the Celestial Palace, he wanted people to greet you both, but your hopes weren't so high.

In their eyes, you were still a servant, and he was still just a monkey. That was something that they would never stop seeing.

But you learned that respect should be earned, not given, so you stopped being the respectful one. If someone offended you, you responded, well, know that now not only your own fury was feared, but the one of your husbands too.

///

"My love, this is wrong!" You tried to convince him, whispering between the peach trees. "We shouldn't! We should guard the immortal peaches! Not eating them!"

"AH!" He picked another one, giving it a huge bite. "I'm the Guardian! Why shouldn't I? And those knuckles head Will never noticed of a few have been eaten, my dear."

He extended the same peach, his mischievous eyes tempting you.

"You and I... We deserved more, my love. Why deny it?"

Yes, why? The immortals were never Just with both of you, that was the right payment that he deserved. Your mouth became full of the peach pulp, and soon the lips of the monkey claimed your now immortal ones.

You desecrated even the same soul of that orchad.

And soon, you both were meant to desecrate more.

///

When he learned from your former masters, the Seven Fairies, that you weren't invited to the banquet of the mother of the west, he was furious.

You were at his side when the Seven Maiden started to mock him and yourself.

"A stone monkey and his mate to the royal banquet? How absurd!"

"He can come and make a dance for us; she can serve us for sure!"

Their laugh was what enraged him the most. How dare they mock you in front of him?! How dare they make funny of the Great Sage wife?!

When the maidens were immobilized by his spell, by the look on his face, it was clear that he planned nothing but troubles.

When the two of you came in the Great All, he put everyone to sleep and then started to drink and eat everything that his eyes could possibly lay on.

"Wukong, this...this is not necessary! We should stop!"

"Stop?!" He looked at you, throwing away a cup full of wine. "They made me do it! They've never been fair to us! I won't stop! I refuse! Come, my beloved, let's drink and wine at their own expense! Let's feast! And when we're full, let's bring the rest to the children!"

And so you did; you drank and drank wine with him, uncertain of this action. The emperor... he would be enraged... but he was right, they treat you both poorly... still...

And so you drank, trying to put down your worries in the alcohol, afraid of the future. You tried to put at rest the fear. And so, Cup After Cup, you fell asleep. You didn't remember all; only your spouse brought you something shining in your mouth, with a huge grin on his face.

When you woke up, you were both back to your mountain, and your fear was true.

///

"I BEG YOU!" your head on the ground, like the first day you both met, "ask forgiveness! Do as they say! Don't bring your people to war! Do not harm them! Please!"

His swore brothers Look at you with pity while he keeps on looking at the thundering skies. He couldn't turn back down.

"My precious one, I refuse to beg for Mercy! I'll make them see what happens when they play against me!"

Then his eyes became gentle only when he looked at you. His hand cupped your face, looking at your crying eyes. How he hates to see your gorgeus face crying.

"Go with Who can't fight my beloved; stay with them! The world of war is not meant for you."

"If you refuse to beg for Mercy," you held his hands against your trembling chest, "then I'll fight with you."

///

And so you did; you did fight alongside him and his generals against the celestial army... but it wasn't enough.

Not against Erlang Shen.

When he was taken away, you were held hostage in the palace, forced to see the tortures and every plan to kill him. But in the world, nothing has ever worked.

When they put him in the Lao Tsu Trigram furnace, you thought they had lost him. No matter how much they torment you, no matter what pain, the thought of the loss of your husband was too. much to bear, but he wasn't dead; no, he became stronger.

Nothing could have beat him, and, for a moment, you really thought that he could become the new emperor...

But he played against more capable opponents.

///

You could still Hear him moving, struggling against the rock, gnawing at the mud, trying to get out and break free from the golden sigyl.

"You're hurting yourself more..."

"WAIT until I break free!"

"You won't..."

"Are you doubting me?! "

You get, starting to walk away, your cold expression couldn't even manage to hold his fiery eyes longer than a second.

"Where are you going?! Stop!"

"I'm going to find our people. They fled in the fight. I'll do what I can."

"We'll do it when I'll break free! WAIT!"

When you turned around, you were the one holding an enraged expression. Your fists were so tight that your hands were white, and your lovely (y/c) eyes were of a deep red color.

"I wanted you to stop! To reconsider it! But you didn't listen! We could have been happy and serene, but you... you just wanted more."

He wanted to scream back, but he heard it—your hiccups, your sobs.

"No, please! Don't cry! I can hold everything, but seeing you cry breaks me deeper." He struggled again to reach you, to console you, but another strike from the sigyl stopped him. You didn't want to hear him again; you just wanted to leave, and so you started to walk away again, ignoring his screams.

"PLEASE! I'll Fix Everything! I'LL DO IT! PRECIOUS ONE, PLEASE!"

///

As the seasons change, you change for the worst. You became something else.

Your power, once maid to help and protect, became cold like ice. Your colors disappear, pure white, like a ghost you became. You even started to forget your name.

With no one to come back, your people were hunted by the Celestials, abandoned, and hated by everyone. With no place to go, you became a demon.

For 500 years you prey on mortals, other demons, and such, until fate acts again and a monk and three pilgrims cross your path.

And your heart longed for two things: your husband and the flash of the Tang monk.

But your story was short-lived, you guessed.

///

Wukong held you in his arms, your fragile body against him. You were like a child, deep in slumber, while your old color started to come back.

He did what he could; he suffered enough, all for one thing: a second chance for you.

He sensed your struggle in your sleep, his footsteps echoing in the depths of Mount Huaguo.

"Shhhh...sleep..."

Yor hands grasped his tunic, feeling the rasp material under your finger.

"Wukong, I had... a dream."

"A Dream? It was good?"

"No, it was a nightmare. I did so many bad things... I hurt you and someone you care for."

He stayed silent, only holding you closer to him. "It was Just a Dream, my love...nothing more."

He laid you down on the altar, covering you with some furr. He stayed there, admiring your tired expression.

"Sleep now; when I'll be back, you'll tell me all."

"Where are you going?"

"...finish a job...but I'll come back soon, so do not fret. Your husband would never abandon you."

You smiled, feeling his lips caressing your forhead. You felt safer now; he would come back soon.

And so he closed the door made of rock of your secluded prison. A sygil, one similar to the one that he once had, and a spell made to you sleep.

He didn't noticed, but he started to weep while he was closing It.

///

He did it; he finished the job. He became Buddha; he obtained a position so secure that he could grant you and himself freedom.

But he was never meant to be free, wasn't he?

He wanted you out of this conflict; he tried to protect you, but you were so stubborn, so eager to protect the husband that had pulled you back from those 500 years of misery...and instead there you were, at the brink of death.

How ironic and unkind...

He felt something—a warm touch to his chest. Your palm emitted that kind light; you tried to use your power on him one more time. He held your hand and stopped you.

You were so tired and you looked at him. He seemed so tired...and yet he smiled.

It's fine. That's enough. No more.

In your last moment, you couldn't help but cry, sobbing, with one consolation of dying at his side.

He wanted to hold you close to him, tell you that everything would be okay, and not be scared because he was there with you. He could only caress your face, trying to stay closer to you, avoiding more pain from the arrows.

And while the divine light was ready to engulf you both, he prayed one last time.

He prays that, if his plan works out, to meet you again, to fix the mistakes of the past, and to tell you how much he love you one more time.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l @rootin-tootin-morgan

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anthurak · 1 year ago

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Something I’ve often found really compelling in Adventure Time is how The Grass Sword/Grass Demon/Fern found up becoming one of the most prominent and disturbing antagonists of the series pretty much by complete accident.

Like it’s easy to forget after Fern has become such a prominent character both in the show and fandom, but the ‘curse’ of the Grass Longsword started out and spent much of the show entirely benign. All it really did was cause the sword to stick to Finn. If anything, the sword/curse was quite beneficial to Finn, providing him with a prosthetic arm and activating on several instances to protect him. Really, the entire point of the original Blade of Grass episode was that the sword was actually pretty useful.

It was only AFTER stabbing and later merging with the Finn Sword to create Fern that the ‘curse’ started becoming actively malicious.

In hindsight, I think it’s pretty clear that while the Grass Spider/Octopus/Demon ‘curse’ entity within the Grass Sword may have been malicious, for the longest time it had no way of actually controlling or otherwise influencing Finn. The sword may have bonded to Finn’s body, but NOT to his mind, or more importantly his soul. This left Finn free to use the sword, and later even the grass-prosthetic freely without any danger or corruption from the curse.

But then Finn accidentally used it to stab the Finn Sword. As we see in Two Swords, this for the first time gave the Grass Demon/Curse direct access to a soul, the soul of the alternate Finn within the Finn Sword. A soul that it was able to corrupt and influence and ultimately merge with to create Fern.

This is one of those things that I think a lot of the fandom seems to miss: Fern isn’t some quirky doppelganger or a ‘brother’ to Finn. He is straight up a distorted, corrupted version OF Finn (the alternate iteration of him within the Finn Sword) manifested by the CURSE of the Grass Sword.

As in, basically EVERYTHING Fern does that deviates from the ‘norm’ that is Finn can be considered the work OF the curse. From more overt stuff like his tendency to ‘stab first, ask questions later’ or the times he ‘flips out’, to more subtle things like his brooding or just the fact that he has a noticeably different voice (the voice of the Grass Demon mind you), ALL of these are the product of the Curse.

And it’s this fact which makes Fern a truly tragic character. Because he was effectively doomed from the very start. Despite Fern’s attempts to do good and Finn’s and Jake’s attempts to accept him as his own person, Fern simply could not escape the curse’s influence. Because that curse was the very thing that created and maintained his physical body. It WAS his body. And this curse wanted nothing but to subvert, influence and ultimately CONTROL him for its own ends.

I think we can very easily assume that all of Fern’s failures, all his insecurities, everything that drove him to turning on Finn and trying to kill him and becoming the Green Knight in the final season, ALL of that was the result of the curse’s influence. Trying to whittle and break down Fern’s will so that it could mold him into whatever it wanted. And there was NOTHING Fern could do to stop this. Because the curse made itself a core part of what he was.

When Finn and Fern finally enter his mental world and destroy the Grass Demon in Come Along With Me, we see Fern as he truly is: simply another version of Finn who has been corrupted by the curse.

And with the Grass Demon dead, there is nothing to maintain Fern’s physical body, causing him to soon fade away. In order for this alternate Finn to be saved, he couldn’t exist as ‘Fern’.

Of course this also means that ‘Fern’ didn’t actually DIE at the end of the series. He simply reverted back to his true form: The Finn Sword.

And what I find so compelling and tragic about all this is that NONE of it had to actually happen. The Finn within the Finn Sword didn’t need to be put through all this suffering. Like it seems pretty clear that the Finn that become the Finn Sword was perfectly content being a sword. He didn’t need to be corrupted and spend the last two and half seasons being manipulated by a grass octopus demon.

Because when you think about it, ALL of this happened by accident. If Finn hadn’t lost the Finn Sword to Bandit Princess, or if he’d been able to simply avoid stabbing it with the Grass Sword during his fight with her, NONE of this would have happened. Finn would still have the Finn Sword and the Grass Sword would have likely remained benign and helpful to him. Heck, given how Finn seems to fully regain the use of the Grass Sword in his fight with Bandit Princess, he probably would have been able to duel-wield the Grass Sword and Finn Sword together.

This is really what I find to be the tragedy of Fern: That two of Finn’s greatest tools wound up becoming one of his most dangerous adversaries, and even worse that the Finn who became the Finn Sword was tortured and corrupted for no real reason, all essentially by accident.

#adventure time #adventure time analysis #finn mertens #finn the human #fern the human #the grass sword #the finn sword #now that i think about it calling him 'fern' almost feels insulting #like we insist on calling this finn a name that represents one of the worst times of his life #imagine the au where finn DOESN'T stab the finn sword?

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daycourtofficial · 3 months ago

Text

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 8k | Warnings: blood, gore, violence, death

Summary: in the immediate aftermath of your arrival in Autumn, Eris moves forward with his plans to overthrow Beron and secure the throne for himself

Note: this is a part of my gingerfucker series and is a companion piece to ‘Chains around my demons, wool to brave the season’ but can be read by itself

Author’s note: Happy day 3 @erisweekofficial !!! The second I saw the betrayal prompt I knew EXACTLY where to go with it. I wanna give a big shout out to @mybestfriendmademe because they actually commented on my first gingerfucker fic about writing Eris killing Beron and it's always just been floating around in my head and now it’s here!!! Also need to thank @basketoffish - this fic wouldn't be half as good without her input/editing/brainstorming.

Beron Vanserra was going to die come sunset.

On the other side of the window, the trees shook from the wind, bending to their will. The branches occasionally scraped the window, calling for the male inside.

Eris laid in bed, gazing toward the closed window, his mate tucked into his arms. He never slept with the window open - it was a vulnerability, an opening, a way in. He watched the closed window, irritation creeping in at the persistence of the trees, their scratchy call grating on him.

You hadn’t been in Autumn for more than a few hours, but Eris could feel the tides changing. He couldn’t tell if your sudden arrival made the trees louder, their calls more insistent, or if he was more receptive to their pleas.

He felt the call deep within him.

Eris has had centuries to contemplate the many, many ways one can kill their own father. Wrapping his fingers around Beron’s throat, applying more and more pressure until he felt the life seep from his body. Tying weights to his ankles and pushing him into the nearby lake. A dagger to the heart. A sword slicing across his neck. A hunting ‘accident’ that saw Beron caught in a bear trap laced with faebane, a sacrifice to the animals nearby that his father’s flesh was worth more as a meal than as a father.

Eris had imagined it all, each scenario becoming more and more detailed and gory than the last. None seemed foolproof enough to kill his father.

All except one.

It was dark as he moved about the room, though no less loud as he continued to ignore the shaking windows, the frenzied tapping of the trees as they tried calling out to him. He knew what they wanted, wanted it himself, but pretended to avoid it - his destiny - for as long as possible. Their calls followed him as he moved about the room, steps silent as he outlined his plan internally, going through every step as he placed plates of armor on his limbs. The clay colored metal fit like a second skin, that layer of protection doing little to slow him. He ran through every minute detail, everything that has to work out in his favor for a positive outcome.

“What are you doing?”

Your voice stops him cold, halting his movements. He hesitates before he turns around to face you - he hadn’t heard you stir, hadn’t felt the twinge in his chest at you waking - had no time to prepare for this reckoning,

“Going for a stroll.”

You blinked, making a show of running your eyes over his partially armored body, clearly in disbelief. He could kiss you for not scoffing in question, cry because the understanding feels worse. He sighed in defeat, leaving his things on the bed before moving toward you. He reached out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, mouth opening and closing, the words not coming, but you waited.

“Please.”

It came out more like a sigh. He could have said more. He probably should have. Your soft gaze hardened his resolve even further, determination further settling in his bones as his shoulders straightened. The bond picked up in his chest, the duet between your souls a familiar song. As the sun would rise on this day, the melody that was so familiar to him would be played with trepidation, tempo increasing as the day continued, as if the string connecting your souls had no idea the outcome the day would provide, the Mother herself plucking the string in anticipation.

He took in the planes of your face and he could feel the lightest touch of your powers deep in his chest.

Resolve.

Determination.

Love.

He could hold you, tell you how he had to do this. How he couldn’t stomach the thought of you in Autumn with Beron just around the corner. How his world shifted with the mating bond, as if he had been walking through life at an angle but could now stand straight. Instead, he watched your breathing, eyes roaming across your face. His thumb brushed your lip, taking in the shape of your lips, the slope of your nose.

“My mate.”

It conveyed all of his thoughts and more. His thumb caught your jaw, holding it in his grasp just enough to keep you from turning away. As if you would ever look away.

“Stay with my mother. Please.”

His tone was urgent. A final instruction he had to share or else he’d be unable to leave. You must’ve seen the urgency, the plea in his eyes - protests and questions swallowed as you nodded. This was his fight. A meticulous plan he had cultivated over a century of scheming and bargaining and debating. The abruptness of his plan being put into motion wouldn’t stop him from keeping out any unknown players.

Especially you.

He looked to the window, finally acknowledging the call from the trees, allowing their song to entice him and coax him from his place of comfort.

Gods, he hated leaving you. Hated every part of it. Years later, when he would think about this day, mull over all of the impossibles that happened, he would tell his children that the hardest part of the day was when he gave one final kiss before departing without looking back.

His hands itched to hold you longer, his palms burning with the feeling of you as he winnowed outside the Forest House, landing not too far from the exit. He had considered winnowing directly, however he had to be careful to reserve his magic for the day to come. He only winnowed outside the house so he would be seen by as few people as possible.

Eyes and ears were everywhere inside.

Eris moved through the forest, the wind through the trees a familiar song as he looked to the moon, asking for the first time in centuries for some entity to look over him. A century of unanswered prayers led him to not bother to ask for much, but tonight it was more than his life on the line.

Eris followed the beaten path to the stables, long legs leading him through the stalls, until he finally came to a stop before Cameron, his red friesian, and his preferred mount of many years. She had been a young foal much too small to hold his weight when Eris first met her but he'd been patient and encouraging, feeding her sugar cubes as he watched her grow into her gangly limbs. He was rewarded by the now sure footed beast with gentleness and docility, even as the stable hands fought to land in her good graces.

Cameron had been a young foal when Eris met her, much too young and small to handle his weight. He had enjoyed watching the young beast grow, feeding her sugar cubes as she went from gangly limbs to a sure footed force to be reckoned with, docile and gentle for eris even as the stablehands fought to land in her good graces, but she was always docile and gentle for Eris.

He walked her out of the stall after providing a saddle for himself, closing it behind him, leaving as little evidence he was here as possible. Once out of the stall, he mounted her, swinging one leg over her back before she took off, the Forest House disappearing behind him quickly.

Eris tries not to think of the day ahead as he goes through the motions of saddling Cameron. Doesn’t want to think of the many lives on the line for him nor about how he would rather not involve Cameron or his brothers in this. He closed the door, double checking the stalls to make sure he's left as little evidence as possible. He cannot afford to count his regrets now. He will have an eternity to repent, as hellion or High Lord. Once out he mounted her with practiced ease, swinging a leg over her back mid stride, the Forest House a speck in the distance before he's fully seated.

The landscape changed as Cameron galloped beneath him, her hooves leaving impressions in the mud in their wake as they rode north, the trees leading Cameron with their song. Once the song got loud enough, he pulled the reins, stopping in a clear field. HIs pull urged Cameron to stop before dismounting and tying her reins to a nearby tree. He gently stroked her mane, the horse unsettled at Eris’s destination. He spoke softly, telling her he wouldn’t be long. It had a slight effect on the mare, her hooves staying planted as Eris turned from her.

The leaves crunching beneath his boots got louder as he approached the exact spot he’s thought about every day for the past century. Mapping out the exact route in his head thousands of times. The leaves sounded like the bones of the fallen beneath him, a walk through the graveyard of his father’s reparations.

He could feel the thrumming in his chest as he got closer, a rhythmic pulsing mirroring his own heart. It sounded nothing like the song of the mating bond inside him, the tones deeper and more primitive. Almost like the drums of fire night, calling to him from deep within his soul. The call to fire night is one of claiming a body. This call was the same, but the call asked for violence, not eroticism.

The drums became louder as he walked in circles, trying to pinpoint where the sound was loudest. If the sound grew softer, he marked a line in the dirt with his boots before turning around until eventually he had made a circle of marks about three feet in diameter.

Eris considered turning around, taking a moment to collect his thoughts, but the wind pushed him forward. He sunk his knees into the earth, his fingers breaking the topsoil. Dirt clung beneath his nails as he clawed through the soil, moving mound after mound toward him. The dirt began caving back into the hole, causing him to start pushing the dirt away from him.

He felt more and more rabid the further he dug, as if he should have brought his hound Clover to do this instead, her paws much more efficient and adept at digging than his fingers.

But he didn’t want Clover here, or any other living creature for that matter.

He hardly wanted Cameron here, but he needed her. Too far to travel by foot, and he didn’t want to waste his magic by winnowing everywhere.

The song in his ears had gotten louder as he dug, a chorus of long gone heartbeats drowning out all noise. The song was deafening now, uncertain he’d ever be able to hear any other song again.

His nails made a toe curling sound as they scratched across a metal box, his ears twitching at the sound. He dug around until he could see the entirety of the box, his hands moving to pull the box from the earth. He inspected the long box, the metal exterior having no cracks or screws keeping it in place. After finding none, he took a deep breath before placing his hand on the top side of the box, pushing heat from the palm of his hand onto the surface of the box, the dark gray metal glowing orange from the heat.

His fingers gripped the hot metal, his skin unflinching from the heat as he curled his fingers into the metal, forging his own opening. The contents glittered through the hole he created, his eyes full of reflected light as his fingers wrapped tightly around the jewel encrusted hilt that turned into branches.

The hilt was magnificent - a sword truly made for slaying a beast. The song in his ears was louder, the heart beats racing as he unsheathed the sword from the prison it had been confined to for over five centuries. A legendary sword - one of the few magic imbued items in the Autumn Court.

The Spine of Autumn.

A name unspoken for centuries, millenia perhaps. Beron had spent a long time ensuring the few who had known about it were quickly taken care of, never to be seen again.

The light hit the metal as he pulled the sword out, the blade glistening in the sun. The sword was harsh on his senses - the glint of the hilt nearly blinding, the song in his ears deafening.

The only thing keeping him grounded was the cool touch of the sword against his palms.

He placed the sword into the sheath he brought with him, the long blade covered in cracks of lava hidden once more.

He placed its old sheath back into the box before he reburied it, the efforts much quicker than unearthing the blade. With the box in the ground once more, Eris turned his back on the mound of disturbed soil. His steps were quick as he reached Cameron, mounting her quickly before taking off once more, the handle of his sword gleaming in the sun.

The sun rose higher as Cameron ran through Autumn, her chestnut braided mane glowing in the morning light. Both of his stops were kept to a strict itinerary- entering his younger brother’s separate homes, Alastor and Cormac, telling them that they knew exactly what to do and to begin their work.

He didn’t linger - hardly spent enough time in their home for his scent to linger for long before departing onto the next brother. He hadn’t bothered planning for Flint, knowing it would be in vain. It was more likely that Flint would turn him into Beron for his treason than even consider helping, so he stuck to the brothers he knew would provide some aid.

The long journeys between his brothers gave him large chunks of time devoted to praying to the Mother that things were going as they should in the Forest House.

There was, unfortunately, one place Eris had to winnow to. Too far to reach in time by horse, once he had made it a few miles from the barracks, he had dismounted from Cameron before tying her reins to a tree once again.

“I shouldn’t be long, Cam.”

He stroked her mane slowly, trying to reassure the mare that he would be fine. There was a nip in the air as Eris strolled into the human lands, the early morning fog hovering just above the wet grass as he approached the manor.

Swift knocks twinged with urgency met the wood. He could hear movement from behind the door, hushed voices coming from behind it before it swung open, a dark skinned woman with bright red hair looking up at him. Her eyes looked Eris up and down, an eyebrow raised as she quickly shut the door, steps quick as she went further back into the house, before a moment later the door swung open again, Lucien’s tan skin greeting Eris instead. Lucien’s hair shone against his dark chest, his fingers fumbling with the tie of his breeches.

“Lulu.”

Lucien met Eris’s tone with an eyeroll and a quiet fuck you before his fingers moved to shut the door, but Eris quickly placed his foot in the doorjam. Lucien sighed out of his nose, turning on his heel inside the house knowing Eris would follow. The inside of the manor was covered in gray walls, gold ornate furniture, and, much to Eris’s amusement, a bright pink couch he walked towards as Lucien sat opposite him in a red and gold armchair.

“What do I owe the displeasure?”

Eirs took in the room - a handful of landscape paintings on the walls, the two humans Lucien lived with down the hall listening. Lucien’s scent wasn’t very strong, meaning he likely got back into the moral lands not long before Eris’s arrival.

“There used to be a time when you were delighted to be in my company, sunshine.”

“Anything is preferable to the company of our other brothers.”

The ruse grated on Eris. He had half a mind to come clean, uncaring of the two humans listening down the hall. But this was Lucien’s life. The choices he made were his to tell, and if Lucien wanted to continue the ruse, then so be it.

“I see your choice in decor has become rather flamboyant with time.”

“My time in Spring made me quite fond of hues of pink.”

The two brothers stared at one another, not letting many words pass between them, an almost awkward silence stifling the room. Eris had turned to the one common ground that always remained between them, like a second language only they knew.

“Have you heard about the birds of Night? The one so precious to Rhysand and the other bats?”

Lucien’s eyes widen if just for a second before returning to an unamused look.

“Yes, I’ve kept my ear to the ground and heard rumblings.”

I know about you two.

Eris reoriented himself, fixing his posture. “The flightless birds have left outside of their normal migratory patterns.”

She’s left Night unexpectedly.

Lucien shifted in his seat, and Eris knew he understood.

“And where have they gone?” Lucien was giving Eris his full attention, and it panged in Eris’s chest that the only reason for that was the subject matter.

“They’ve begun crossing the border, making it past Winter into Autumn, either forgetting or not caring about the predators that lurk there.”

“And why are you here?” An almost accusatory tone, one he has become accustomed to hearing from his youngest brother.

“I know you’re quite fond of these birds and I’m sure we can come up with some plot to protect them.”

Please help.

Lucien’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes cast to the door Vassa and Jurien stood behind with bated breath.

“Yes, I’m sure we can. Did you have something in mind?”

Eris nodded without speaking. Lucien nodded quickly before rising, running a hand through his long hair.

“Allow me to change into more appropriate attire and I shall accompany you.”

After several moments, Lucien reappeared in light armor that had their family crest on the chest, but he could see black leathers peeking out from beneath the metal plating. Eris’s throat went dry at the sight, not knowing Lucien had such armor, much less kept it for whatever purpose.

“Don’t look so surprised. Mother brought it some time ago.”

Of all the reasons for Lucien to be wearing Autumn armor, that was certainly not one of them. Before he could ask, Lucien clarified further.

“She dropped them by one evening quickly because the last time we had met, I had told her an interesting story about a bird and a fox.”

His mother had known for quite some time - but Eris had never indulged her in details past the night he discovered his mate. “And how did the story end?”

Lucien shrugged, attempting to seem unbothered, but his eye betrayed him. The golden thing whirred in its socket, making the hair on Eris’s arms raise. “It hasn’t yet.”

Eris waited as Lucien changed and the two brothers winnowed directly into the barracks, Lucien groaning at the site of Alastor and Cormac before him.

“You failed to mention the likes of these two were involved in your harebrained schemes.”

“Don’t be a fool, Lucien. Everyone save for Flint is involved.”

Lucien opened his mouth to speak once more, but Eris’s raised finger stopped him.

“When all of this is done, the three of you may fight for a century for all I care. We don’t have to like each other, we just have to be in agreement as to the real threat.”

No one spoke his name. A habit since childhood, as if the utterance would summon him.

Eris breathed in through his nose, preparing himself to share parts of his grand plan.

“The three of you will be a part of my army.” Their voices started up again, but his raised voice immediately silenced them. “The three of you will blend into my army, seizing the Forest House. I will be meeting with him this afternoon, and the three of you will work with my guard to take control of the house once I’m inside. Once we have control, he will fall shortly after.”

“What of the advisors?” Cormac’s thick accented voice cuts through, interrupting Eris.

“Don’t worry about them. They are being dealt with now.”

That raised more questions than it answered, but Eris didn’t have the time to walk his brothers through his plans.

“I have to go, but I am entrusting this to you three. Having a stronghold in the Forest House is key to this plot, otherwise it will all fall apart and we will all be executed for treason.”

His eyes looked at each of his brothers, taking a few seconds to remember their faces. None of the relationships within the Vanserra family tree were ever simple and clearcut. His brothers all hated him for various reasons, and he them. The only thing truly connecting them other than blood was pure hatred directed toward their father.

On any other subject, he knew having his brothers involved would be a risk. But the three looking at him now would do anything to see Beron disposed of, no matter the cost. Petty squabbles can come later. His ears rang again with the drums, his fingers annoyed at every surface he touched that wasn’t the hilt of the sword.

He spent several minutes going over the layout of the house with them, which strategies would work best for taking it as a stronghold. It was mostly for Lucien’s benefit, Beron having changed a few things around since his youngest brother was ran out of Autumn.

“You all know what to do.”

He didn’t have the ability to convey any of his feelings towards them. How he felt like he failed them by allowing Beron’s corruption to turn their hearts. How he should have killed Beron centuries ago.

But he doesn’t. Instead he turned, walking through the barracks before finding Cameron once more and riding through the trails of Autumn toward the Forest House.

Upon Eris’s arrival into the Forest House, the house moved about in a sense of normalcy. Servants fluttered about, avoiding his eyes as they went about their duties. He made his way to the throne room, where Beron preferred their private meetings to be held. He pushed open the double doors to find Beron already sitting at the throne, waiting expectantly. Eris walked forward before stopping halfway between the door and Beron to kneel.

Over the years, Eris had allowed himself to seem sloppy for this moment. He spent the mornings and afternoons training his soldiers, his armor more like a second skin.

The first time had been a mere accident. He had forgotten to shed his armor, not thinking about the rules and expectations Beron sets upon his family. Instead of the issue they had planned to discuss, Beron had forced Eris to shed his chest plate, spending the hour-long meeting whipping his back instead.

When Eris had returned to his training, the pain from the wounds on his back gave him an idea. He didn’t do it frequently enough for Beron to punish him outside of these perceived wrongdoings, but just enough so a small pattern would form. Eris just needed the right moment, just needed Beron to be comfortable enough so he could move things into motion.

But it never came.

Beron’s voice filled the hall, the room entirely empty save the dais decorated with one throne.

“Any male in a position of power will always wonder how he will fall. He will try to see thousands of possibilities.”

Eris remained kneeling, not having been dismissed or even acknowledged when Beron began speaking.

“It is always on your mind - who is an ally and who is a foe?”

Screaming could be heard through the halls, the unmistakable sound of fighting coming through the crack beneath the door. Beron didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the sounds beyond the door. Somehow he knew this was coming.

Eris kept his head down, gritting his teeth in annoyance that someone tipped off his father, but his jaw fell slightly at the sounds of barking beyond the door.

It was Clover, he was sure of it. He had told Alastor to put armor on his hounds and release them, wanting them to act as an alert system to those inside the house that more soldiers were approaching. He didn’t expect them to be in the middle of the battle.

He could hear their growls and the shrieks of those they dug their jaws into.

He had been training the hounds for years on who to attack. Any advisors who happened to pass the kennels and were received less than kindly, Eris chalked it up to his hounds being bitches. The real truth was he spent decades gathering the scents of those advisors, guards he couldn’t sway, anyone who would stand in his way, using the clothing or fabric whenever he would be training his hounds on aggressive tactics. Getting them used to their targets.

But they still weren’t supposed to be here.

Thousands of hearts were beating in Eris’s ears, uncertain which was his own. He was sweating now, trying to keep the sword unsheathed for as long as possible.

Beron’s smile was feline as he took in the sounds of chaos. “Beautiful sound, isn’t it? I always loved the echo of treason in the afternoon.”

Beron breathed in deeply through his nose, straightening as he stood. Eris finally stood before he unsheathed the Spine of Autumn, the sword glowing all on its own. The molten lava in the metal practically crackling with heat. Beron laughed at the sight of it.

“You wield the power of things you don’t understand, boy. Give it to me.”

Berin held out his hands, fully expecting Eris to blindly obey his command.

“No.”

Beron’s eyes crackled with anger. He never responded well to any defiance from any of his sons. In a fit of rage, Eris struck first. The first deviation from his plan. His sword sliced through the air, Beron quickly unsheathing his own to block. Beron’s counter attack was expected, Eris able to block with his hilt quickly.

Several moments passed as the two swapped blows back and forth. Eris was sweating profusely, the roar of the sword growing louder in his ears, now silently chanting kill, kill, kill. Their combat consisted of matched hits, the room a sweltering heat between the two of them. Eris rolled from Beron’s blade, maneuvering through the room, trying to use anything in the bare room to get any form of leverage against his father. He walked up the steps of the dais, blocking each of Beron’s blows as he walked backward up to the throne.

The doors shook, he could make out occasional shouts and yells from his brothers from the other side, their voices desperate to get in. Each time he swung the blade, he could practically feel the rage of his last act of betrayal through the doors as he could hear them fighting off any more of Beron’s guard.

“I always wondered which one of you fools would try to overthrow me. Delightful to find out all of you participated in the coup.” Eris swung once more, his centuries of training his body into a weapon needed for this very moment.

“Eris.”

His name was a hiss from his father.

“You are playing games you do not understand.”

The only other noise in the room was the clanging of their swords, the air heavy with dreams on both sides. One wanting a successful coup, the other wanting to prove time and again his strength and brutality.

“I understand well enough, father.” Beron tsked as if admonishing a schoolboy, his mouth sneering into a smile. “No, you don’t.”

Eris’s limbs ached as he bore the brunt of Beron’s full strength with each block and each attempted attack, the throne room devoid of any way to tell the passage of time. Was this purgatory, an in between life for those the Mother deemed unworthy of rebirth?

“A month before you were born, the stakes with Hybern were rising steadily. I found a witch and had a curse placed on myself.”

The drumming in his ears made his father’s words next to impossible to make out, but somehow his mind knew what he was saying even if his ears couldn’t pick them out.

“Whoever kills me, kills themselves in the process.”

His father’s words did little to stop his movements, his attacks using more and more of his strength. The doors rattled once more, an echo of broken promises added to Eris’s neverending list of lies and betrayals.

He knew he was lying to his brothers when he said they would have a chance at Beron. The lie had rolled off his tongue, a means to get them here no matter what. Every plan he had had to get to this moment with their involvement in one way or another. Vengeance was always at the forefront of their minds and he gave them a taste for it. All he can do now is hope they will see this through.

His father having a debt for his soul, a life for a life, was not surprising to Eris. He was certain there was some cosmic debt for killing his father. Everything he worked for in this life came at a cost, why should that stop now in his final act?

If this was the end, he’d do all he could to ensure he had slain the dragon.

Eris mustered the last of his strength. The male who calculated every move, every breath he had taken over the past five centuries.

It was the last move to make. The last time he’d deviate from the plan.

A life he’d dreamt of so close if he outstretched his arms his fingertips could ghost over it.

He thought of whispered promises, midnight declarations of love.

And he erupted.

The sword was bright and covered in blue flames as it met Beron’s sword once more, the clanging metal echoing through the air. Every slash, every hit was countered perfectly.

A battle of wills.

Eris tapped into the well of rage within him, using that to push himself forward. To keep striking, even as Beron matched every hit. Eris felt his father having to use the well of power within him, and he was certain if he could just wear the bastard down he would have a shot.

Beron was powerful, a magic so deep and vast it wasn’t unheard of for new High Lords to drown in it. But Eris was ravenous, a hunger for that power so deep his bones were malnourished.

After what felt like centuries, Eris was finally able to thrust under Beron’s guard, the point of his sword nicking Beron in the neck. His father acted quickly, his counter parry catching Eris in the side, the heat from the blade slicing through the metal of his armor. Beron stomped forward, his sword raised over his head and Eris just barely blocked with his hilt in time. Eris pushed forward, using his legs to push Beron off of him to allow himself some breathing room.

Beron took Eris’s expectation and used all his force to swipe his sword through the air, causing the Spine of Autumn to slip through Eris’s grasp.

Beron used the advantage to hit Eris in the torso, the reverberations from his armor causing his chest to vibrate. He took two more hits before his knees fell, the armor digging into his skin as he panted for breath.

“You stupid, stupid boy.” The words crashed into Eris as Beron’s sword hit him in the side.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t see the greed in your brothers’ eyes? Expect your wretched softness to stray your mind?”

Another clang, this one to his thigh. His limbs were roaring in pain, the heat of the room sweltering.

“You think I’d make my father’s mistake and let his runt of a son take his crown? No, my dear.” His tone was softer, as if he were imitating Eris’s mother, the sound causing Eris’s stomach to churn.

Eris saw the sword glint in the moonlight, and he watched a hand cover the light from it. Beron smiled, his teeth covered in blood, making him appear more animal than fae.

“All of my idiot sons working against me. I should be proud to produce such heretics.”

Beron turned his sword, using the hilt to hit Eris square in the chest, causing him to fall onto his back, the clang of the armor echoing through the throne room. His father stalked toward him - a predator at the end of the hunt. His teeth gleamed in hunger.

“Perhaps your little coup would have worked if you had just one more of your brothers aiding you.”

Flint stepped out of the shadows, appearing from behind the High Lord. Flint was only a few years younger than Eris, but he had gladly taken on the personality that Beron wanted him to have. His long, practically maroon-colored hair covered parts of his face, but he made no move to fix it.

Eris was the only son to live permanently in the Forest House, all the others were scattered across Autumn in the hopes to keep more of the population in line. Flint had been sent to the furthest reaches of Autumn because he so resembled Beron with his cruelties that the High Lord wished for the farthest communities to feel his power.

Flint carried with him an air of unease, the scars on his face making him seem far more sinister than the legends that surrounded him could. He kept his words far and few between, preferring to keep any disagreements in the physical sense.

“Do not fret, I’m sure your mother and brothers can learn some very valuable lessons from your folly, even if you’re too charred to do the teaching.”

Beron gleamed with wicked delight as he heard Flint pick up the sword, his steps growing nearer. His father stayed rooted as his brother moved closer, dragging the sword behind him, the drag creating a terrible high-pitched noise.

Eris’s eyes were calculating as he looked to the sword, trying to gather any semblance of strength to move, to pick himself up. He just needed a speck of energy, to hold out long enough for the magic of the new High Lord to heal him.

But he was stuck. He couldn’t move. Forced to observe his own failed assassination. Ruminate on the life spent to get to this moment just to fall short.

Flint heated the sword, his flame dancing around the metal, turning into a redhot coloring.

His thoughts flicked through the hundreds of people he brought with him today, the fighting in the hallways, the banging on the throne room doors. It all faded to nothing, the only sound in his ears the tune of the mating bond deep on his chest.

It was a beautiful thing, even if it was only real for a glimmer of time.

Flint handled the sword, checking the weight of it as Beron looked to his oldest son, his eyes full of eagerness at the possibility of spilt blood.

Eris’s breathing was labored as Flint lifted the hilt high over his head before he quickly turned and sliced the sword through Beron’s neck, his blood flowing across the front of his body. The heated sword sliced easily through the High Lord, a squelching sound coming from him as Beron’s face remained with the sneer he held before it fell from his neck, his body following suit. Beron’s head rolled a few feet, his body slumping to the ground in a thump. He watched Beron’s eyes, watching the life seep from them as his head landed a few feet from Eris’s knees.

Beron’s armor clanged throughout the throne room, the last sounds of a tyrant jarring and almost anticlimactic.

The beast was slain, a shocking finale to a tyrant’s life. Eris couldn’t focus on him, couldn’t allow himself to feel anything other than concern at the male that was staggering before him, swaying on his feet.

Eris quickly moved to stand, not bothering to look at his father’s body as he darted forward, just in time to catch Flint. His weight was heavy in Eris’s arms, the deadweight nearly causing both males to collapse. Eris wiped the blood from his own mouth before trying to speak.

“What the Hel were you thinking?”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, the deep brown full of sadness as if Eris could watch all of his memories through them. The air was colder now, the rhythmic prose of the sword gone from his ears as his intended target had been slain. The bloodthirst sword had been quenched, but his brother had paid a steep price.

“You told me to strike when they least expect it.”

Autumn leaves crunched beneath his feet, his boots blocking out the chill of the air, his ears full of the sounds of tiny exhalations. He stood, watching the small boy maneuver around the tree, cutting up the bark with each slice.

“You’re too loud.”

Flint moved his head quickly, startled at Eris’s presence.

“I didn’t hear you.”

Eris moved toward his younger brother, easily pulling the sword from his hands.

“That’s because I didn’t want you to.”

He looked at the hilt of the sword - much too heavy for a boy his brother’s size. He huffed as he pulled a small dagger from the lining of his jacket before handing that to Flint, ignoring his brother’s attempts at reaching the sword again.

“Flint, there’s a reason every male worth his weight carries a dagger.”

Flint handled the small blade, flicking it through the air as if fighting an opponent, nearly cutting Eris’s jacket in the process.

“Why?”

“Because daggers allow you to strike when your opponent least expects it.”

His own words echoed back to him, feeling so unfamiliar in Flint’s mouth.

He always had the same eyes. Full of depths Eris could never fathom, a bottomless well of sadness and concession to an unwanted life. Somewhere over the centuries they lost that spark that Eris loved so much. He wondered briefly if to have a child is to watch that spark dull. But then his thoughts wandered to Lucien - the only one who got out, who got their spark back.

“Flint, we’ll get the healer. Mother’s coming, you have to- you have to see her.”

Eris started clawing, tugging with everything in him on the bond in his chest, urging you to come quickly. He needed someone, anyone to come. To see what his brother had done for him, for all of them, for Autumn.

“Eris, I-“

His bloodied hand reached up, shushing Flint. He was growing pale, his cheeks losing the red glow they always had.

“It’ll be okay. You’ll- we’ll be okay.”

Tears fell from Eris, landing directly onto his brother’s chest. He wasn’t sure where it came from - perhaps some pit deep inside of himself still cared for Flint. Their relationship was rife with double and even triple crossing, each conversation a meticulous game of chess that allowed for no winners, only heartbreak.

The blood loss was getting to him, he was sure of it. The room was spinning and the pounding in his ears finally stopped only to be replaced with an incessant ringing. His limbs felt so warm, his body overheating. He wrapped himself around his brother, trying to warm him.

“Flint, I have - I have a mate.”

As he spoke, he heard the doors burst open, and could hear the footsteps as several fae entered the throne room. He didn’t look up, instead keeping his eyes on his brother’s. He didn’t know why the admission had come forth, some part of him knowing that his brother was not going to make it through the night. It slipped from his lips, only now realizing this was the first time he had told anyone he had a mate.

His mother had sniffed it on him the night the bond snapped. Lucien - Eris had no idea how Lucien knew.

But Flint was the first one Eris ever got to tell. And he watched his brother smile, an act more taxing than it should be, his eyes flickered with the life they used to have. Flint’s hand reached up, cupping Eris’s, before he nodded his head.

It was too late for words, but Eris knew what his brother was saying.

Eris looked into that dark brown - the color of soil, chocolate, coffee. Things that give life, things that are worth living for. And he swore he watched the life fade from them slowly, a dull sheen creeping in from the edges.

Traitors don’t get a victor’s life.

To stab from behind is either cowardice or cunning, depending on which side of the blade you’re on.

He felt the presence of others, but this moment was all consuming: grief, relief, the new influx of emotions and sensations as High Lord.

This was supposed to be his ending. He had accepted that the moment Beron mentioned the curse, having given up any hope of leaving this room alive. He had accepted that Beron would be the last face he saw. A terrible ending to a life unlived.

He looked down at Flint, his eyes still having some life, and he called for his mother, beckoning her near. He didn’t take his eyes from his brother, but he somehow knew she was who Flint would want to see in his last moments.

“Flint,” Marigold cooed, dropping to her knees next to Eris. He moved Flint’s head into her hands, his brother relaxing at her gentle touch, combing her fingers through his hair. His brother didn’t stir, so Eris jostled his body, desperate to get Flint this final moment with their mother.

“Come on, wake up. You have to tell her.”

Eris jostled him a bit more before his brother opened his eyes, half-lidded looking up at Marigold. Eris’s heart panged for her - another son gone at the hands of a Vanserra. Beron’s cruelty left no survivors, not even for a mother.

“I did it for you, Mother.” His voice was weak, but his words were full of need, as if this were a final confession. Marigold’s face remained soft, a flicker of a memory passing through Eris at being tucked in at night. Her soft voice lulled him to sleep, her serene smile the last thing he saw before he slumbered. Eris hoped death felt safe and warm like that memory.

“I know, sweetheart.”

Flint coughed, a congested sound that didn’t sound right echoing through the throne room. Eris knew his other brothers littered about the room, but he didn’t dare look away from Flint. For the brother who gave up everything, Eris could devote his full attention in these final moments.

“It was all for you.”

He clutched her other hand tight in his, and she pulled him up to rest his head in the crook of her neck, sliding him from Eris’s grasp.

“I know, I know.”

Marigold did not ask for a healer. She must have known what Beron’s curse entailed. Perhaps having three of her sons killed by other family members was enough penance for her wrongdoings.

Eris felt the magic surging through him, amplifying his senses, emotions, everything in him. It stitched and healed all the broken skin, the marred flesh. He felt his mate’s presence on his back, gentle touches that screamed I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. But his eyes stayed on his brother, each breath more taxing than the last one.

It was Lucien who came forward with the ornate crown that looked like an infinite circle of branches with dying leaves and berries in his hands. A crown Eris had spent his whole life imagining how it would feel on his head. His neck didn’t ache with the weight of expectation like he thought it would as Lucien placed it atop his head.

It felt as if the sprigs were nestling onto his head, the crown coming to life to fit him perfectly, to take root with him as if to say you cannot go back.

Choices all led to this moment. Every decision made over the course of five centuries led to the thrumming power in his veins, the powerful family of nine now about to be a dwindled mess of five.

There was no way back. What even would there be to go back to?

For centuries, Eris had thought he was doing it all alone. Scheming in the dead of night, forced to bloody his own hands. As his mother held Flint, his breaths taking longer pauses in between, his heart slowing in Marigold’s lap, Eris realized that he would never have gotten to this point alone.

A family fractured and wounded by each other for centuries, all coming together for this one moment in time. Nothing was simple in the Vanserra family, no relationship untouched by Beron. No matter how warped and twisted they were, this was still Eris’s family and they all came through when it mattered most.

There was no way to know how the future would unfold for the Vanserras. Millions of cruelties lay between all of them, even his mother was guilty for holding a grudge with him for what he took from her. No one in this room had the joys or naivety of youth.

Flint stopped breathing in his mother’s grasp and once she knew he was gone, she began sobbing into his head. His mother hardly cried. He had watched her deliver all of his brothers and been there in the aftermath. Heard her cries when Beron had first discovered her affair with Helion. These cries were different -like an animal howling at the moon in anguish. An unjust ending for their beloved child. Fire crackled in Eris’s veins, a silent promise that this was the last betrayal on the Vanserra line.

Roots popped up from beneath the tiling, startling Cormac before they wrapped around Beron’s body and severed head and dragged him beneath the surface, uncaring as they broke limbs and skin, the resounding crunch from either the tree or his body. His father’s body was pulled from the surface, a violent burial that left the throne room a disaster.

Outside the doors, Eris could hear the trees and paused at the tune of his mating bond. Despite there being no windows, the song was so loud his brothers could make out the melody. He listened closely, the song had a slow melody that flowed well. It sounded different than before - as if there were a different arrangement of instruments. The melody was the same, but it was less harsh than it was when he left the Forest House this morning. Then it sounded like a march, a call to battle. But now it sounded like he could make grand sweeping movements to it, spinning about a dance floor. It was then he understood. It was a waltz.

He listened once more, hearing the silences of the song that were usually filled in by your presence, only to find the gaps more prominent without your duet. His eyes stung as he realized they were singing a song of him and that it sounded beautiful.

The song of Eris floated through the trees, being carried on the wind throughout the fields of Autumn, telling the land that the evil has been expunged. The fields would bloom quickly, the land becoming more fertile and bursting with the life that had been missing for centuries.

Across Autumn, the new High Lord’s song would be whispered, a beacon of hope to those long suffering beneath a tyrant. For the first time, the fae would hear Eris’s song and they would dance to it.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

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