#except its more like if you were favored by a god

[giggly-squiggily]

I just KNOWWWW Akazas stripes are so ticklish! They have to be! Anything Lee Akaza throw my way 😫

I. Love. This. Headcanon. I love it! My god I can't even begin to count the ways I adore this silly thought of Akaza having the most ticklish stripes on the planet! I've gotcha covered, anons!

Cloud 9 (Taglist peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @t-wordiiish @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mystwrites @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @giggly-toybox

Kokushibou tried to be subtle in his staring. Hard to do given he had six eyes, but he tried all the same.

Before him, Akaza was spacing out, openly ignoring Douma and his constant chatter. Leaned back on his arms, his bright blue stripes were on proper display for all to see. Normally such a sight wouldn’t entertain the highest moon, but after recent events, they were the only thing on his mind.

“He gets so giggly when you trace them!”

He had heard about Akaza’s supposive ticklish stripes. It seemed almost everyone within the Kizuki had tried it at least once, earning various reactions from the red headed demon. Most walked away with temporary injuries; the exception being Rui. Akaza’s soft spot for the spider was as clear as the blue within his markings.

Once again, he found himself staring. So long so when he looked up, Akaza was staring back.

Silence. Moments passed that felt like hours at their stare down. Eventually, Akaza looked away. He always did first.

Kokushibou blinked, his attention shifting once more to Douma nearby. He was staring now, a knowing look in his eyes and a teasing smile.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached out and traced one of his long nails against a stripe.

“Sh-” Akaza all but jerked at the touch, twisting to snarl at the blonde. Douma laughed like a child, unfazed as he was grabbed and shaken by the angry demon.

That settled it. Kokushibou had to see what this was all about.

~~~

It took awhile, but eventually Kokushibou had him just where he wanted him.

“This better be important. What do you want, anyway?” Akaza growled as he sat before the demon, voice only just shaking beneath his anger.

Kokushibou decided to ignore it as he carried on with his plan. “I wish to ask a favor of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It seems everyone else has had a turn trying it, but I’ve yet to myself.” He leaned forward for emphasis, eye glinting with intrigue. “Would you be so kind as to let me have a go?”

Akaza blinked, taking in what he was saying. When it finally hit, he scrambled back- wide eyed and sputtery. “W-Whoa whoa hang on! Who told you- why do you- absolutely not!” He folded his arms across his chest, pulling his vest over himself even tighter. “There’s no way I’m just gonna sit there and let you-”

“I won’t force you.” Kokushibou cut in, calm as ever. “You and I both know if I wanted to do that, I’d already have you on the floor. I’m that much stronger than you.”

Akaza rolled his eyes at the reminder, still guarded. Kokushibou held up a hand in surrender.

“I assure you I have no intentions of testing it without your consent. If you truly don’t want me to do it, I’ll leave you be.” Kokushibou folded his hands once more, flat against his knees in a show of honesty. “That is all I have to say.”

Akaza stared, trying to find the lie in the demon’s teeth. There was none. Kokushibou was being genuine. A rare thing among them, but it did its job at lowering his walls. Groaning low, he came closer until he was sitting beside the six-eyed demon. “Five minutes.”

“I beg your pardon?” Kokushibou blinked.

“Five minutes. I’ll give you that much time to have your fill tickling me. After that, we never talk about this again.” Akaza wouldn’t look at him, but his expression was clearly a reluctant pout. “Fair enough for you?”

Kokushibou stared. “Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t still be sitting here if I wasn’t.” Akaza gestured him to get on with it, his pout deepening as he looked anywhere but there. “Times a ticking- get your fill and I’m out.”

“Wouldn’t it be more fair to only start the clock when I actually tickle you?” Kokushibou asked, amusement touching his tone as he turned on his knees, reaching out. Before Akaza could respond, he trailed a single finger along the bright blue band against his bicep.

“Eeeh!” Akaza jerked at the touch, frowning lips twitching. Kokushibou did it again. “Ehehem-mmph!” He bit his lip, trying to muffle the sound of his growing giggles building up in his chest.

“Just a touch and you’re already laughing.” The six eyed demon mused, daring to add a nail to the mix. “Is this your worst spot, or are you just anticipating what’s to come?”

“Shuuhuht up! Gahhaha!” Akaza went to swing at him, but Kokushibou was far too fast. He easily grabbed the fist coming his way with one hand, raising it up and giving himself more access to tickle spots. “Nohohoho, don’t! Gehahaha, yoohohu fuhuhucker!”

“Such language. I hope you don’t say such things infront of Rui.” Kokushibou chided as he clawed his fingers, dragging them along the stripes lining Akaza’s side. The reaction was near instant- the redhead went tumbling to the right with a loud cackle. “Knowing you, however- I shouldn’t worry about such things. You’ve always had quite the soft spot for him.”

“Whahahht’s thahahhat suhuhuhhoohohohsed to mehahahahen? Jehehahhaalous muhuhuhuch?” Akaza snarked through his laughter, torn between blocking with his free arm or swinging with the other.

“A little bit.” Kokushibou didn’t elaborate. Instead he dared a finger down the center stripe along Akaza’s chest. Akaza all but flew backwards at the touch, barking out a shrill laugh.

“GAHHAHA!” Losing all balance, Akaza hit the ground back first as he flailed about, shrieking with mirth while Kokushibou closed the gap. Fingers carried on tracing the lines along his torso, unyielding and devastatingly ticklish. “SOHOHOHOON OF A BIHIHIHIIHTCH! YOHOHOHOOHU SIHIIHIHXED EHEHEHEYED FREAHHAHAHK, CUHUHUUHUT IT OHOHOHOUT!”

“It seems tickling makes you more bold.” Kokushibou chided without malice, a rare smile pulling at his lips as he focused his efforts on the stripes running along his upper ribs, making Akaza flail and go near silent with mirth. “Six-eyed freak, huh? Is that what you call me when I’m not around?”

“GAHAHAHAH! I’M SHAHAHRRY! I’M SHAHAHHARRY NOW STAHHAHAHAP!” Akaza all but shrieked, voice fading in and out as he threw a tantrum against the ground. He was sure he looked a right mess, eyes wet and face aching from that ever permanent smile. He wanted to rip off his skin and shake out the feeling until it was gone in the wind.

And yet- a part of him was having fun. A small part of him- ever present. Damn his once beating heart for enjoying this.

“Has it been five minutes already? Shame, and I was just getting to the good part.” Kokushibou hummed as he pulled away, folding his hands neatly in his lap while he watched Akaza roll around with a groan. “I found that quite enjoyable though, Akaza. Thank you for letting me have a turn.”

“Ugh, whatever. You’re just lucky I’m nice.” Akaza quipped back. The words stunned him though- a memory of himself saying that same exact phrasing to a young woman flashing through his mind.

“Akaza?” Kokushibou asked, his teasing tone fading into one of concern. Akaza blinked, reaching up and holding his brow.

“I’m fine.” He assured, sitting up quickly and facing the older demon. “I’m fine, really. Just…this whole thing is weird. You’re weird.” He winced some- he sounded like a bumbling fool. “Not that..that’s really a bad thing though.”

Kokushibou’s various eyes widened, taken aback by the comment. Akaza quickly twisted on his heels to escape. “You remember the deal! This never happened, you hear me bug eyes?”

He ran before he could be caught, flying down the halls and towards his usual hideout. Maybe it was his exhaustion, but he swore he could hear the faintest of chuckles from the room he escaped.

Yeah. Definitely his imagination.

Thanks for reading!

[andr0nap-wf]

rotating the swap au in my mind:

archimedean albrecht and executor loid meet on the day of albrechts execution

loid manages to appeal his sentence because he sees potential in his work and offers to personally oversee the void research project to appease the rest of the judges

albrecht is spared from the jade light and comes out of the situation with a sponsor and the greatest whiplash of his life

shenanigans ensue

[deadsetobsessions]

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPT BY @out-of-jams

ACCIDENTALLY KIDNAPPING A MAFIA BOSS

In Tucker's defense, he thought he was doing someone a favor. A life saving favor, in fact.

"What the fuck-!” The red helmeted guy yelped as a deceptively strong Tucker yanked him onto the bike and sped away. Before Tucker could explain, the GIW agents behind them got in a lucky shot and hit the helmeted liminal with a strong blast to the head.

Clearly, his gear wasn’t equipped with anti-ecto protections, because the guy slumped over on Tucker’s arms. This was bad, because Tucker now had to maneuver about 230 pounds of Gotham muscle while speeding away from government agents. He flicked on the jammer so they couldn’t track his and red helmets’s ecto signature.

“STOP!”

“Ah, shit.” Tucker cursed as he somehow managed to gather up red-helmet’s body and stabilize the bike. “C’mon, Tuck, you can do this.”

Blasts of anti-ecto tech slammed into buildings around him. Luckily, Gotham was used to this kind of shit so people just moved out of the way before going back to their day. Tucker wove around traffic, trying to lure the agents into slamming face first into some signposts.

“Stop damaging the local infrastructure!” Tucker yelled back at them, speeding up.

“WELL REIMBURSE THE PEOPLE AND THE CITY LATER! TELL US WHERE PHANTOM IS!!”

“Over my dead body, you jerks!” Tucker took a sharp right, catching red helmet before the man could slip off. He sped up and took the ramp downwards, heart beating loudly in his ears as he strained his senses to figure out- ah, they took the ramp upwards. Good. Now, all he has to do is bring red helmet back to home base.

“Oh my god. I kidnapped him,” Tucker groaned, slapping at his face before quickly placing his hands back on the handle bar once the bike teetered over with red helmet’s weight. “I’m a criminal. Oh my god.”

Then, as he found his way back, “…Well, it’s not like I wasn’t a criminal before, with the whole resisting arrest thing.”

——

Tucker dumped the red helmet liminal onto the couch of their shared apartment and went to take a shower. When he got out ten minutes later, he found Danny and Sam staring at the helmet guy. Tucker pushed up his glasses (after letting them defog from the shower) and greeted them.

“Hey, guys! I found him while I was running away from Agent L and J.”

“You okay?” Danny asked, eyes immediately flicking over Tucker for injuries.

“Yeah, I’m good. They’re horrible shots.”

“I thought Danny was the one who brought home strays but you…?” Sam commented, arms crossed and a purple painted nail tapping at her arm. “Wait. Isn’t this… that crime lord? What was his name?”

“Red Hood?” Danny offered, turning back to look at the guy on their couch.

Tucker paled. “Oh, no.”

Guns? Check.

Red Helmet? Check.

Bat-Symbol? Check.

Shit.

They collectively stared at the guy in silence.

“…Tucker,” Sam slowly said. “Did you accidentally kidnap a crime lord?”

“Hey, I didn’t want him to get killed! He’s liminal! Even more than us, except for Danny.” Tucker grumbled. “Man, this is why I leave the hero-ing to Danny. I do one good thing and suddenly I have a crime lord on my couch.”

“My couch,” Sam corrected, as she was the one that furnished their apartment.

“What do we do now?”

“Eat dinner,” Tucker said. “I’m famished.”

Sam nodded. “Wait for him to wake up and hope he doesn’t shoot us the moment he wakes up. Then, we explain.”

Danny grabbed all the visible guns he could see. Tucker went to start dinner. Sam supervised, because her boys were idiots and now she had a crime lord in her apartment.

——

Jason groaned, head swimming in a sea of dull throbbing pain as his eyes fluttered open.

Then he remembered he was abducted, and bolted up right. He paused as a series of quick observations made its way to his consciousness.

One. He’s not tied up. Weird, because everyone knows that he’s a weapon even without his weapons.

Two. His weapons were right there, just in reach.

Three. He was surrounded by teenagers and/or young adults who were all scrolling along on their phones.

“Oh, hey, he’s awake! Hi!” The Wayne bait said, electric blue eyes fixing itself on Jason. “Were you aware you died?”

Jason went rigid, hundreds of way to-

“Danny!” A scolding tone cut of Jason’s immediate panic. Two couch pillows slammed into Danny’s face, courtesy of goth girl and nerdy but strong.

“Dude, why do you start with that? Why are you like this?” His… possible kidnapper? asked, exasperatedly flinging his hands into the air as he rolled his eyes.

Goth girl scowled. “Boys. Crime lord, couch, remember?”

“Hey, in my defense, I died too!”

And that- as Jason remained dumbfounded in this circle of tomfoolery- was what snapped Jason out of his daze.

“You what?” He rasped out.

And when he saw them open their mouths at the same time, Jason just knew his headache was going worse.

——

Tucker, effortlessly plucking the actual red hood from the streets: and I whoop-

Jason, whose type is strong, nerdy, and tall: *heart eyes* *but not really because he’s unconscious*

——

Sam: “this is my boyfriend Danny and our other boyfriend Tucker.”

Jason enters chat:

Sam: “this is my boyfriend Danny and our other boyfriend Tucker and his boyfriend, the Red Hood.”

——

[simpingland]

Heyy beauty!

Can i request a Harwin break my back Strong x wife Targaryen reader fic where he beats the shit out of someone who disrespects her. He gets out of it with no consequences, reader looks after him & it ends in smut💋

(I'd appreciate it if u could do more Harwin fics cause lord knows I'm thirsty for it😭)

How to fix an aching nose.// Ser Harwin Strong x Targ!Wife!Reader. Smut.

Summary: Harwin cant believe his luck, married to a targaryan princess, being completely in love with her, her being madly in love with him...Not many believe his luck neither. Only his wife can prove him that its all real.

Warnings: p in v, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), a Lannister being punch.

Harwin was more than anxious to have you, his dearest wife, alone for more than the few moments you were allowed, to what extent could he reminisce about your wedding night? His mind was elsewhere during the hunt, listening only to his father's instructions, and ignoring the lords. Ever since he married you, he had felt the looks they gave him, full of envy of course. Few dared little more than stare, the stupidest could dare to vocalise it. And Lord Tyland Lannister was one of those fools.

"I see you are distracted, Ser Harwin," said the Lord with a mocking laugh as he watched the stag slip away from him at close range. "Marriage...always has the same effect on men."

He chuckled, a few laughed with him, but most gave him a dirty look, and Harwin set his spear aside.

"What effect do you mean, Ser Tyland?" he asked dryly.

"Well, the effect of women. They are a constant headache."

"I don't think you should speak so of wives when you haven't managed to marry a single woman since you've been at court, my lord." He wanted to leave it at that, but Tyland had taken offense.

"When one wields so much fortune, choosing a wife to entrust to him is a different task. I suppose you don't know what I'm talking about now, Ser Harwin."

Harwin walked toward him, towering over him. It clearly frightened him.

"I don't need to brag about money to show my wealth. And that I think if you are able to understand."

Tyland was silent for a second. Everyone had turned to watch the scene, except your father, the King, who was too sore to pay attention. None of them listened as your father asked for your presence to escort him to his tent without making a fuss. So Harwin turned to continue the hunt without being aware that his own wife was walking towards the scene. Neither was Lord Lannister.

"You certainly took a treasure for the little price you must have paid...you took a very possible wife from me." Tyland was whispering it to Harwin now, purposely irritating him. "Though...perhaps you did me a favor. A princess who chooses someone like you should not be driven by anything but lust and madness. Maybe your wife is a lot cheaper than we all thought."

Then Harwin exploded. With the first fist he knocked out two of Tyland's molars, and with the second he buried him in the mud. None of Ser Lyonel's orders were heard as he tore Tyland apart, only the insults towards you, raging. They tried to pull him away, but he was still there. And there you found him.

"HARWIN!" You shouted, running towards him. It took him a while to notice you, he looked at you, a little frightened that you had seen him be so savage.

"He insulted you" he said quietly, then looked at Tyland "YOU INSULTED THE PRINCESS!"

And he gave him one last kick before he was pushed away by the guards. He had to be pushed away until he was led out of the hunt, and he only looked at you, begging your forgiveness for the disturbance. Your father was disoriented, and only understood what was happening from the words of one of the guards. And you had to wait to get your father to his bed before you met Harwin.

"What happened?" you asked as you entered your tent. Harwin was waiting for you, on his back and standing. When he turned around you saw his nose was bleeding. You ran to wipe it. "Gods! Did Tyland do that to you?"

"He wishes it was him, my love...it was one of the guards."

"I suppose it's because you've hit him first, isn't it?"

He smiled, because he knew you as well as you knew him. And he watched your concern disappear with every second, seeing your smile again.

"I'm not going to let anyone walk all over me. Not me, not you," he said, kissing your neck as he hugged you, lifting you off the ground and pressing you against his chest.

"Oh, Harwin, and why do you say that?"

You wiped the blood from him as he told you the story. It was starting to bruise a little, but had stopped bleeding after he put a cold cloth on it, holding it patiently and letting it play with the ties of your dress.

"I don't want you to think I'm just a... a beast too. I hold my anger a lot more than you think. Only you make me feel at peace, wife." He ran his hand through your hair.

It certainly hadn't been easy to convince your father. The Strongs were beloved at court, but Harrenhal was not a place of good repute, and marrying the King's second daughter to a notorious brute like Harwin "Breakbones" Strong had caused much controversy. You succeeded after years of hiding in the corridors, and every night Harwin could only draw on his imagination to do more than kiss you, for he had always put your reputation and honour before his desires.

You had only been married a short time, but it had been a season since you two had spent time alone. Your elder sister Rhaenyra was keeping you by her side at night, uncomfortable with her first pregnancy, and in the mornings, Harwin was too busy catching up on his duties as heir to Harrenhal.

Still, it didn't take away a single ounce of excitement, you craved each other throughout the day, and Harwin always managed to pull you aside to talk or kiss you. Either was enough for him, but he really wanted you back in his bed.

"You don't look like a beast to me." You put your hands on his neck, sat on his lap, you could feel his bulge on your leg. "And even if you had looked like one, you forget I've never been the person who holds his reputation in the highest regard, remember?"

They smiled, Harwin remembered in fact, more than once he had had to push you out of his sight because you had guided his hand where maidens should not be touched, all before you were married. You kissed him first, and when he was training you watched him from your window, catching his eye and "accidentally" showing your breasts. In the dark of night he had to pick you up off the floor because you had knelt before him. And in between all those moments Harwin couldn't help but be captivated by you, begging the King for your hand.

"I remember everything. You are far more beastly than I, my wife..." His member began to grow as he remembered, your scent right there, he captured your lips.

"You have offended me," you faltered, pulling away from the kiss. "Show me who the beast is here, Ser Breakbones."

One swift movement and he unfastened the bodice of your dress, freeing your breasts, and brought one to his lips. And as it sank to your chest you giggled at his eagerness, enjoying the tingle that formed on your legs as you felt Harwin's saliva run over your tits.

"Do you find this amusing, my princess? Having me sit here?" He ran his hands under your skirt, stroking your pearl as if by accident, but you knew he wasn't, that he was doing it to ravish you.

"I do find it a bit funny, I'm afraid..."

He stilled your laughter by throwing you onto the bed they had set up for you. Remarkably smaller than the one in your room back in the Keep, but Harwin didn't plan to use it much. He removed what was left of your dress, leaving you now completely naked. Your body being a spectacle for him.

"Well I'm no clown, of the many tricks they know how to do, I doubt very much they know how to do this."

He rested one hand on the bed, circling you on top of you, and the other he used to turn you, your back, your ass facing the outside. He caressed your back, stroke both cheeck of your ass and finally touching your cunt. One finger entered first, stirring your discharge with your clitoris and eliciting a soft moan from you. He watched you watching him, mouth half open. He was so handsome, with his smooth coat but rugged features, Harwin was all man. He inserted a second finger, and the third was not long in coming. Then he began to shake his hand rapidly, lifting your entire pelvis to his rhythm. You couldn't help but cry out as you felt such continuous pleasure.

"No..." whispered Harwin, pulling his face closer to yours, "no one knows how to do this to you like I do..."

Pleasure engulfed you, and Harwin could see you come to orgasm, you moaned millimetres from his lips, which he felt as if it was feeding him. He let you rest, and before he could lick his fingers with your arousal, you took his hand to lick them for him. If he was already excited before, Harwin had to hold back a moan when he felt the friction of his own pants squeezing his erection.

"Now let me reward you, my Lord, for defending my honour..." you removed his shirt, and kissed his big abs. But you made him suffer as you reached for his trousers, unbuttoning them bit by bit, not until you had removed them completely did you focus on his member.

Fat and in proportion to your husband, his cock needed two hands to massage it well. First you gave him a little kiss on the tip, as if in greeting, and looked up at Harwin, who seemed impatient but loved your gaze as you knelt before him. You were beautiful from every angle, and your eyes sharpened from that perspective. He pushed your silver hair aside as an excuse to touch it, and he never pushed your head, you always managed to make him enjoy at your own pace. You licked the tip for a while, but before he could cum, you took as much of his cock into your mouth as you could, knowing which way to guide it so you wouldn't gag. You sucked slowly but intensely, using your cheeks to make your mouth tighter. You were just about to make him cum when Harwin decided to take the reins again.

He caught you by surprise when he pulled away from you to pick you up off the floor, placing you in his arms as he did when he rescued you from troubles you usually got yourself into. One arm around your back and the other around your legs, your hands resting on his shoulders and with the opportunity to kiss him right there. Indeed, you didn't need the bed very much. You didn't quite understand what Harwin was up to, but when you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, your hair stood on end. He was moving slowly up and down you, preparing to bury himself all the way in.

"I am convinced that there is no better pussy than yours in all of Westeros, Princess..." his voice was husky, his scent captivated you, and he kissed you tenderly when he wasn't kissing you with tongue.

"So what are you waiting for to enjoy it?"

He lured you to his lips to distract you, but you finally felt him enter. Gently, but creating that special fraction you'd longed for for years before you were married. Harwin broke the kiss to moan, of course this was his favourite part of fucking. He didn't usually do it fast, he liked to pace himself, and for such a big, rough man, he liked to sink into your pussy delicately, whether it was his instinct to protect you, or his instinct to enjoy it. His hips set the pace, as he raised them, his arms lowered, and you felt his full length fill you. He began to speed up the rhythm, he had plenty of strength left, and when he increased you could hear him enjoying himself, making you enjoy yourself.

"I'm going to cum...I'm going to cum..." he announced.

Then he laid you back down on the bed. You had no plans to have children yet, so you liked to experiment a little. Harwin positioned your legs apart, and took out his cock to rub it against your clit, fucking your vaginal lips and causing you unparalleled pleasure. You had your second orgasm seconds before you felt Harwin's semen spilling out of your pelvis, with a sweet moan leaving your husbands lips.

He rested his forehead on yours, and you kissed his aching nose.

"Wow...you sure made me feel better, wife." He moved to your side, pulling a blanket over you both, cuddeling you in his arms.

"Yeah...I've missed you too."

"I meant the kiss on the nose...but the rest was good too."

You laughed before threatening to make it bleed again. Harwin was willing to take a million punches as long as his princess was there to kiss his wounds afterwards.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

No masters or kings (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Aemond has issues around sex. The thought of being married to you, an angel, it's not helping.

Warnings: Angst (w/happy ending) Religious guilt, repression around sex. Kissing. Thoughts of sex, but no actual smut. Just angst and fluff.

Requested: Yup! Modern reader falls into Sept x Aemond

For as long as he could remember, Aemond had been alone. He had been an outsider to his siblings and nephews, all with a dragon. He had been an outsider to other noble children, marked apart by his distinctive features. He had been an outsider to his father's family, Rhaenyra and her children.

The loss of his eye had only exacerbated that. The girls at court were frightened by the sight of him, and he often worried about how he could secure a match. No longer activities he had found solace in, like studying and swordplay, came easily. Everything, from reading to being able to walk down the stairs without tripping, had to be relearned.

His faith in the Seven had permeated all of his childhood. His mother was the only person to pay attention to him, even if it was sometimes in a way Aemond could not appreciate. When he thought of her, his mind's eye always conjured her with a seven pointed star hanging from her neck.

Aemond had tried his best to keep her happy. She was all he had. So instead of running from his lessons and incurring on indecent behavior, Aemond had closely listened to the Septons that educated them. He had prayed daily. He had read the Seven Pointed Star and annotated its passages, committing them to memory.

Paradoxically, the time when he felt closer to the Gods was after the loss of his eye. It had been then he had truly understood what it felt like to be favored by the Seven. His faith demanded sacrifices, but always rewarded them. An eye for a dragon. The biggest dragon in Westeros.

Sacrifice will bring good things. It was a very simple lesson, but one he committed to memory regardless.

As a child, Aemond had not prayed for a dragon. Nor had he prayed to the Warrior to make him strong and able to defeat his enemies. When Aemond was a child, he had often prayed for a friend. Asking for the Maiden to send him someone kind. An angel. He had never spoken it out loud, afraid of appearing weak. Children were such cruel creatures, after all. But Aemond never forgot to ask the Maiden for it.

Aemond prayed. And suffered. And prayed, and suffered, and thought that at least this life he was leading, of loneliness and desperation and so much fear, would finally account for something. For the Gods favored those who suffered and sacrificed, and if his reward didn't come in this life, it would come in the next one.

His prayers were always the same. Each morning, before anyone else could rise except for the lowliest of servants, Aemond went to the Sept. He spent equal time in front of each of the Seven's effigy and lit a candle for them. He prayed in silence, asking of them simple things. Aemond knew he already led a privileged life, so he did not dare ask for more.

His prayers were so ingrained, he recited them with little thought. Yet, when he came to the Maiden, Aemond always fumbled. With the other Gods, he knew exactly what to ask for. But with Her, he only felt unease. So he rapidly mumbled his childhood prayer, and moved on. It had become a tradition, even if he was no longer the appropriate age to pray for friends.

Aemond knew it was the wrong thing to do. When you were praying, you were supposed to be present. To think of all the aspects of the Seven with the devotion they deserved. But when you are taught as a child to pray, it turns into instinct.

Just as someone who has trained enough with the sword barely thinks about his next move, someone who prays enough doesn't need to think about what they will ask next. It's too ingrained.

At this hour, the Sept is quiet. Aemond enjoys praying here instead of in the one inside the Red Keep. There are no court ladies around to bother him, nor an Aegon making mocking noises while he tries to pray. Despite wanting to join his mother in prayer sometimes, he just couldn't take the royal sept. It lacked the peace septs were supposed to make you feel.

He leaned down, lighting a candle before each effigy, and muttering his usual prayer.

“Warrior, give me strength.” Aemond whispered. He lit the candle and moved on. “Mother, protect my sister and my mother. Father, bring your justice upon my enemies. Maiden, bring me someone kind. An angel.” And as he kneeled to light her candle, something hit him from above.

The weight of the thing was too great for him to remain upright. Aemond was sent sprawling to the floor. His head slammed on the stone floor of the Sept, making him grunt. A woman screamed. Probably, one of the commoners visiting the Sept. They were few at this hour, most having already begun their labors. Her scream was echoed by one of another woman, and soon, hurried footsteps were nearing him.

Aemond tried to sit up, reaching a hand out to move the weight aside. What he gripped, made him fall back down.

Cloth. Cloth covering something soft, something that yielded under his hands. An arm. You. The Gods had answered his call. There was a woman right on top of him, eyes closed and expression smooth, as if in peaceful sleep. The Maiden had sent him an angel, after years of solitude and sacrifice. You were his reward.

Aemond lifted you and set you aside, on one of the benches of the Sept. A couple of the commoners hurried forward, to gape at you, but Ser Criston stopped them.

“A miracle! A miracle!” Someone was screaming, and you twitched. More and more commoners started to pour through the entrance of the Sept, all gawking and murmuring about the woman who had appeared out of thin air.

The people were bright-eyed, frenzied by the demonstration of the Seven's power. They started pushing at Ser Criston, and trying to touch Aemond and you.

Cole and Aemond exchanged looks. If no one controlled the crowd, they might very well end up being torn to shreds by them, in their frantic attempts of touching the holy being they were guarding.

Aemond unsheathed his dagger.

“I think… We need a Septon.”

You were being carried somewhere. You could tell because your head swayed with the movement, unsupported. It was giving you terrible neck pain.

“If she has fallen out of the sky, and there is no hole….”

“A miracle! A miracle! The Seven have…” Fuck, your head hurt, and the woman screaming was not helping things. You flinched, trying to curl into yourself. This felt like the worst hangover ever, and you had no leverage to avoid the noises, since you were hanging in midair.

“The Prince must be held in high regard, for clearly the Gods favor him. Thousands of people pray here daily, yet the Maiden herself answered his plea.” The man from before continued speaking.

Someone else scoffed.

“Surely, this is a bit much. The Prince is hardly…”

“Shut up, Cole.” The person who was carrying you barked. The movement his chest made when he was talking made you fearful of falling down. Despite the strength in his grip, you weighted more than a few sacks of flour or a gallon of milk. People were not supposed to carry other people for long, unless they were frat boys attempting to impress girls or some sort of soldier.

You tried to sit up, the movement making all your body ache. Where were you? Why were you being carried? The last thing you remembered was going into an occult museum with a friend.

Everyone has that one friend. The slightly witchy one who believes in ghosts and crystals and whose favorite month of the year is October. The one who likes terror movies, and scary podcasts and dragging you to haunted houses and escape rooms.

It will be fun, they said. It's an occult museum, what could possibly go wrong?

Where the fuck were they? You were so going to strangle them for getting you… Wherever you were.

“My Lady.” The man holding you said. You looked up and met a pale blue eye and an eye patch. You startled. He looked straight out of a low-budget pirate movie, all in leather. “Are you alright?”

“What happened?” You lifted your head, noticing everyone was cosplaying as medieval priests and knights. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach. The man holding you looked an awful lot like Aemond Targaryen. You would recognize that ensemble anywhere. You had read enough fanfics for it. “Is this a renaissance fair? A comic con?”

It was worth the shot. Perhaps something happened to you and you had stumbled into a comic con? But was it so easy to stumble into one? You thought the tickets for those were expensive, they surely wouldn't just let you in.

Something had happened to you and these kind cosplayers who were… Doing something decided to help you? That seemed more likely.

“No, my lady. This is Westeros. The earthly one.” The man dressed in the more expensive costume of a priest was speaking. He had an elaborate head accessory, billowing robes and some strange pentagram with way more points than usual. His voice was the one which had been muttering about a Prince, and being favored.

“What is a renaissance fair?” The man had the oddest combination of a white cloak and armor. You looked at the man and froze. He was… Oh, what was his name again? Oranges guy!

“Something they must have in the Seven Heavens.” The expensive priest answered, in a matter of fact tone. “Clearly. The Prince asked for an angel. Angels reside there.”

Your mouth was hanging open. They thought you were an angel. Holy shit. You looked down, at your scuffed sneakers and clothes. You didn't feel very angelic, but like hell if you were going to miss the opportunity of receiving royal treatment in Westeros. If you truly were here, you would rather not learn how the lower class lived.

Another priest turned to you. He was dressed as expensively as the first one, but he lacked the head accessory.

“Tell us, young lady. Were you an attendant for the Maiden? What are the Seven Heavens like?”

You panicked. Perhaps pretending to be an angel from a religion you had no clue about was not a good idea. These questions would continue, you knew it.

“Don't be ridiculous, Eustace. Everyone knows that angels can't divulge that sort of thing. It's basic theology. They come to fulfill their purpose, not to entertain fools.” The man with the head accessory spoke, as if talking to a child.

You did your best to sit up. Aemond held you more firmly, and raised his arm on your back, encouraging your head to loll towards his shoulder. You were moving inside a prehistoric looking building, corridors made from stone and decorated with tapestries. The Red Keep, perhaps.

“And what do you believe the being’s purpose to be?” Eustace asked. You did not like being referred to in such a manner, and you fought Aemond's grip a bit harsher. He merely settled you against him and kept walking, this time going up a stairwell. You squirmed.

“The Prince's wife. He prayed for a companion. That must be it.” The expensive priest, Septons they were called, now that you remembered, seemed to have become an expert on all things you. Wisely, you kept your mouth shut.

“Is that why her attire is so immodest?” The oranges guy spoke, reaching for you. He clearly noticed his Prince was struggling and hoped to relieve him of the burden. You clung to Aemond more tightly. You were honest enough with yourself to know you had many impure thoughts about him, and were not going to lose your chance.

Aemond grunted. Encouraging him to keep carrying you beyond his capabilities might not have been your best move.

“You can put me down. I can walk.” You spoke softly, trying to sound your most angelic.

“We are nearly there.” His voice sounded agitated from the physical exertion, but his tone screamed danger. It would wound his pride putting you down now, you realized. He wanted to look strong. “There is no need.”

“The Gods see all, and angels are pure beings. They do not know of such earthly concerns, for they have not been exposed to the sins of the flesh.”

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, sure that you were dreaming. This was turning crazier by the second.

“That is a crass word here, my lady.” Aemond whispered to you. “You shall not repeat it.”

Safe to say, you were learning your lesson. When an occult museum artifact has a sign that says, “Do not touch” you DO NOT TOUCH.

Marrying an angel was not a part of Aemond's plans. Begrudgingly, he admitted he may have to reconsider his more violent revenge plots. Aemond had to prove himself worthy of you, and for once, worthiness did not mean prowess with a sword or riding a dragon. It meant piety.

Piety. Kindness. All the virtues that the Faith enforced and that you were made of. All the virtues Aemond felt he lacked, sometimes.

Taking his nephew's eye would not be kind. You had explained so, as if you could read his mind. You also said that Aemond should not attempt to force him to pay his debt. It had been an alarming show of clairvoyance.

That you were privy to his most secret inner thoughts should not have surprised him so. It was only further proof of your angelic nature.

Your arrival had the Kingdoms in an uproar. The Citadel had wanted to record the circumstances around your appearance, the Faith had made you pose for a portrait. Some even dared utter that perhaps Aemond was better suited to be King, since the Gods clearly favored him.

The King was displeased, but your miraculous arrival had been witnessed by too many to deny it. Aemond had been authorized to marry you, only out of sheer pressure from the High Septon. You were a hero to the man. Families who had been worshiping the Old Gods for generations now rushed to convert. Only House Targaryen remained stagnant.

Even after your marriage, Aemond struggled to catch a minute alone with you. Anywhere you went, people were currying for your attention. If it wasn't his other asking you to join her in prayer, it was some Septon asking you questions, or near mobs awaiting outside the Red Keep for you to appear on a balcony. People thought your touch was magical, that you could heal the sick and bless the innocents. Aemond had to fight to keep their hands off you.

As the wife to a Prince favored by the Seven, all thoughts of going back were stomped on. You had mentioned it once or twice, before he had married you. Going back home, you had said. Aemond understood that the earthly world was much different than where you had been from, and the homesickness that came with it, but he hoped you forgot such silly ideas. There was no way for you to go home, and if there was, he would not allow it.

In hopes of distracting you, his mother had suggested expediting the wedding. Aemond had agreed, but he had soon realized that it was not enough. While sweet and kind to him, and clearly loving, your mind still drifted to thoughts of your life before. Something stronger was needed. And there was only one stronger bond than marriage. He had to put a babe in you.

Such thing, unfortunately, was much harder than expected. To produce a child, a couple needed to lay together in ways Aemond and you had not. You were loving, pressing kisses to his lips and cheeks every chance you had, but it was a pure kind of affection. You had been told that you were his wife, and what that entailed, innocent being that you were. It didn't mean anything. You were only trying to do what you thought was needed.

Aemond didn't dare touch you. It was his right to do so, but he was unsure if it was the moral thing to do. You probably weren’t too sure of the connotations of the act and all that it entailed. Besides, was it really his right? You were no ordinary woman. You were an otherworldly being, an angel, a perfect woman carved out by the Maiden herself and sent to him to love and cherish. You were not meant to be hurt or tainted in any way.

Intercourse was dirty. It hurt maidens, and it was a sin when practiced outside the marriage bed. Despite always pleasurable to him, and sometimes to his companions, Aemond was not too sure he should submit you to it.

You were heavenly. Asking you to have intercourse with him would be asking you to roll around in the mud while wearing a white dress. It would make you earthly, change you. And you were perfect just the way you were.

Yet Aemond could not contain these… Urges. When you kissed the corner of his lips, all he could think about was grabbing you and deepening the kiss until he got to know every inch of your mouth. When you hugged him close, letting him curl around you at night and hide his face on your neck, Aemond thought of kissing and bitting and sucking the supple skin until you were writhing in pleasure. When your hand innocently grazed against his thigh, he thought of his hands squeezing your own thighs, pulling them apart to reveal your core.

It was a sinful way of thinking. He knew it was wrong of him, but he could not stop. He could not control it. If only his waking thoughts were sinful, things would be different. Waking thoughts could be controlled. Dreams could not.

Every night, without fail, Aemond woke up drenched in sweat, breeches uncomfortably tight. He saw you in his dreams, in all sorts of lurid positions. Your pretty lips parted, your thighs fluttering open and closed like the wings of a butterfly. You on your knees, back, your bosom spilling from your bodice, your pretty breasts, nipples puffy. His mouth, his hands, his cock, on you, in you.

The dreams were pleasurable while they lasted, but as soon as Aemond woke up and saw you sleeping peacefully next to him, the guilt returned. You let out the tiniest puffs of air when you breathed, and always chased his warmth on cold nights. Adorable being that you were, you curled into him, unaware of the turmoil you caused.

Aemond could no longer take it. At first, he tried looking for answers to his dilemma inside of books. He soon found out his studies of philosophy and history had not prepared him for the monster that was theology.

So he asked for advice. To the only person who had to be an expert on the topic. The High Septon.

By the end of the day, a panel with four Maesters and ten Septons had been formed to discuss the issue.

“She is a pure being. The Queen and a Septa have confirmed that she has female anatomy, but having it does not mean she should be defiled.” One of the Maesters spoke, frowning. Aemond nodded along. It had been like he thought.

“It's hardly defiling if the Maiden gifted her to the Prince. She blessed the union.” The High Septon argued, sitting straighter in his chair. He clearly was uncomfortable at the thought of Maesters, of all people, interfering in these matters. What Aemond could not figure out was why the man had invited them if they clearly ruffled his feathers.

“The Maiden is a maiden. That's the whole point.” Another Maester rolled his eyes. It was a sound logic. Aemond felt even guiltier after hearing that. Thinking about you in such a manner was impure. You were a representative of the Maiden herself, here on Westeros. Even thinking of such dirty things near you was disrespectful. It was as if he were thinking them about the Maiden herself.

“Well, yes, but if you ask for a wife, is it not implied?” Septon Eustace chimed in. Aemond had never particularly enjoyed the royal Septon, but he was proving to be very useful. “I do not presume to know how the Prince words his prayers, nor do I think I can know his intentions, but…”

A companion. Someone kind. The prayer had started innocent enough, a child asking for a friend. Aemond had kept it worded exactly as it had been back then, when he was eight years old and dragonless. But he had grown, and so had his intentions. When he spoke of a companion, did he still think of a friend? Or rather, a wife?

The word companion indicated someone that assisted, that served to cater to a necessity. Not quite a friend, but someone to ward off loneliness. A somewhat inferior being, even. It was a term used to refer to pets, after all.

Women were precious beings. Images of the mother, to be treasured and protected, but never equals. Wives were, after all, lower than husbands. It was why they must be obedient to them, why they should mind the children and the home. They were not made to stand on their own. Women were made to stand next to a man.

Besides, wasn't it interesting? The Gods could have sent him a man. A boy. A dog. But instead, they had sent him a woman near his age, with pretty eyes and a tempting mouth.

“Hardly.” A Septon interfered. “There has been precedent of marriages that…”

“Marriages declared null.” The High Septon snapped. His mood was a reflection of the room. The conversation was starting to turn more and more heated, murmurs breaking out among the gathered. It brought uncomfortable memories of the day Aemond had met you and had to fight a frenzied mob. He had the feeling this was going to turn into that quickly.

Perhaps sensing the same, another Maester spoke.

“Why don't we ask her? She must know the Seven's will in the matter.”

Neither of the fourteen other men in the room had thought of that.

When Aemond asked you, timidly, if you wished to consummate the marriage, you could have danced from joy.

You had decided early on that if going back was not an option, you were going to make the most of your stay here. You missed your family and friends, but your life here was so pampered that you didn't feel so bad. Any quirks of behavior that you had were excused as part of your angelic nature, and you had the biggest crush on the man who had married you.

If only Aemond didn't refuse to even touch you. So far, you have tried everything. You have kissed him. Stroked him. Cuddled far too close to him, so you are nearly on top of him. Groped his thigh, almost his cock. Your behavior has bordered on indecent even by modern standards, yet Aemond dismisses it all as innocent. He is either the most oblivious man on the planet or he doesn't want you.

That suspicion had given you pause. If Aemond did not want you, you weren't about to force him to do so. You had stopped with your insistent touching, and went back to light kisses on the cheek. Instead, you had made the mistake of looking around.

You are so horny it's driving you mad. Being married in Westeros is not what you thought it would be. You expected much more sex. Besides, everyone here was insanely good-looking, especially the man sleeping next to you and waking up every morning with a raging erection. Anyone with a sliver of a libido would be frothing at the mouth and clawing at walls from horniness.

In your other life, you had watched HOTD and understood the message clearly. Despite being a common occurrence, cheating was not a good idea. There were no reliable contraception methods and no way of preventing STDS.

Even if you were not aware of all the possibles consequences of cheating from your knowledge about the show, you now knew Aemond. He was terrifying, devout, and hated his bastard nephews. You did not want to see what he would do if he caught you cheating.

So here you were. Into forced chastity and perpetually horny, with your husband asking you if you thought it was a good idea to consummate the marriage.

You could have jumped from the bed in your haste to show him exactly what you thought. But you had to maintain your air of an otherworldly being. Which you technically were, since this was not your world.

“Whichever you think best, my Prince.” You answered, voice soft and patient. Just as you had always spoken in his presence. It had done wonders to make Aemond seek your company. He found you soothing, or so he said.

Aemond reached forward. His hand cupped your cheek, very gently. You looked up at him with your most innocent eyes.

He lowered his hand, shoulders slumping in defeat. You tried not to let it show how much it hurt you to have all you wanted dangled in front of you and then taken away.

“I cannot touch you. Nor should I lust after you. You are…” Aemond’s eyebrows pinched together. His face showed an inner conflict that made your own heart soften. Perhaps he had grown to care for you, in the ways you wished he did. He just didn't think it appropriate.

You stepped closer. This time, it was your hands that cupped his face. Aemond's eye closed, briefly. He seemed to be enjoying the touch, committing it to memory.

“Kiss me.” You whispered, pulling him close. Aemond went into the hug, nuzzling your hair. Despite the sweetness with which he responded, his frame was tense. “Please. I beg it of you.”

“I can't. I can't defile you.” He sounded truly strained. You rubbed his back, gently. “ A perfect being, such as yourself, does not deserve this.”

“It won't hurt. I know how to do it.” You explained, softly. Perhaps he worried about hurting you, you thought. You were no blushing virgin, but Aemond did not know that.

“Of course. You are an enlightened being. But it does not mean you have to put that into practice. You must know of the mysteries of death, yet you have not hurt anybody.”

“Because killing is wrong.” And truly, it was a ridiculous comparison. Sex had not killed anyone, at least that you knew of. It was not meant to hurt.

“Sex is, too. It's only for making heirs, and I am a second son. I don't need heirs.”

And by the look of his face, Aemond really believed what he was saying. The thought of him suffering, of being so deeply repressed, hurt you. You understood well how damaging thinking about sex in that way could be.

It hurts you more to think it might have been exacerbated by you. The thought of you being this perfect soul, someone so pure and easily hurt, and then the thought of tainting you. It said a lot about his mental health.

You vowed then you would aid you in any way you could.

“It's not wrong.” You whispered, and moved slightly back from his embrace. “Let me show you.” And you were kissing him, and Aemond was kissing back. His lips were soft, and he held you as if you were the most delicate glass vase he had ever held. You understood him now. And one day, Aemond would understand this too.

[mochegato]

Petty Warfare

Part One of the Pretty Petty Series

“Akuma I have no sense of decorum,” Ladybug grumbled as she surveyed the wreckage before her.  It was all quite impressive considering the akuma had only emerged a few minutes ago and had already wreaked more havoc than the last eight akuma combined, but it was easy to do that with a literal sea of lava appearing and disappearing every few seconds.

It was not the look they needed right before their meeting with the Batman to discuss investigative assistance from the Justice League while still keeping them at a distance and allowing the Miraculous team to stay in control.  It was a well-known fact in the hero community, and the general public really, that Batman and his team had a tendency to think they know better and taking over.

“Absolutely no respect for other people's schedules,” Chat nodded in agreement as he stepped up next to her with a twirl of his staff.

Rena hummed as she whirled her flute and got in line.  “It's one thing that's always bothered me about akuma, how rude they are.”

Carapace stepped beside her.  “Well then, let's teach them some manners.”  He looked down and around, for a brief second there was a glimmer of panic in his eyes, but it almost immediately disappeared in favor of a smirk.  He grabbed his shield from its back holster and spun it on one finger before securing it on his forearm.

Ladybug rolled her eyes and shook her head, much to the amusement of the rest of her team.  It was extremely common for her to do one or the other, but both at the same time?  They rarely got her to do that.  “And let's make it quick,” she advised firmly.  “We have a meeting to get to and I for one do not want to let down Wonder Woman.”  She made eye contact with the rest of her team but then rolled her eyes again at their hopeful expressions and twirled her yoyo.

Chat grinned brilliantly, almost bouncing from foot to foot watching the yoyo, but quickly cleared his throat and shook his body before easing into a model perfect pose.  “Or give Batman the idea that we need him to step in more than we want.”

Carapace sucked in a breath.  “Might want to get on that.”

“Oh my god, that's Red Hood!” Rena shrieked, barely able to keep her voice low enough not to echo across the rooftops.  “I need to get a picture of him in the fight for the paper.”  Her excited grin quickly twisted to a contemplative purse.  “I can’t believe they brought Red Hood near Hawk Moth.  That seems like a poor choice.”

“Red who?” Ladybug asked.

Rena pointed to a figure jumping from roof to roof.  “Red Hood,” she enunciated slowly.  “Affiliated with Batman… kind of… he has a bat on his chest so…”

Ladybug followed to where she was pointing, her face scrunching as she watched him.  “But he doesn't have a hood.”

Carapace shrugged.  “You don't have antenna but your called Ladybug.”

Ladybug scoffed and spluttered.  “No, but I have…” she motioned toward her bodysuit. “I'm not called Ladybug and then running around looking like a fox.”  She gestured harshly toward Rena.  “He should be called Red Mask or something.”  She suddenly narrowed her eyes and shot up straight.  “Is that a gun?” she shrieked, not bothering to keep her voice down.

“That’s kind of his thing,” Rena grimaced.

“Not here it isn’t,” Ladybug snapped.  Her yoyo was sailing toward him before Carapace could warn her that she might not want to start a fight with an ally while they were still fighting an akuma, but by that point, she was already gone and it was probably better for everyone involved if he just didn’t say anything.  Except for Red Hood, but he was a big boy.  He could handle himself… probably.

The yoyo hooked over a beam and wrapped around Red Hood’s wrists in the blink of an eye.  He was yanked forward by his wrists, forcing him to drop both his guns over the side of the building and barely keeping himself from following after, as she jumped off the building and swung toward him, using him as her counterweight.  Thankfully, he was heavy enough he barely moved as she swung.  She landed gracefully and silently, but stalked over to him, stomping the entire way until she was almost chest to chest with him.  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” she demanded.

He yanked his arms back and looked her up and down, the surprised look from seconds before replaced with a mask of indifference, eyes calculating and raised eyebrow unimpressed.  “It's called saving the day sweetheart.  Someone had to do it.”

“Oh shit,” Chat grumbled under his breath.  He searched around for the rest of Red Hood’s team.  Surely one of them could help deescalate the situation.  He could calm Marinette down, but not if Red Hood was actively taunting her.  But when he turned back to intervene, his eyes caught on Red Hood’s hands and he had to fight to stop from chuckling.

He was trying to be discreet.  He was trying to be sneaky.  He thought he could trick them.  He really had no idea who he was dealing with.  He could try as hard as he wanted, as long as he wanted, but he wasn’t going to get out of that line.  He was stuck there for as long as Marinette wanted him there.  Chat would know, from personal experience.  If Red Hood had done any research before coming to their territory, he would have known that.

“It's called inflicting major trauma,” she hissed, “which is a bad thing when dealing with a villain who preys on negative emotions.  I fear that's something most anyone could figure out.”

“Seems like getting attacked by an akuma might do exactly that.  So stopping the akuma would prevent it.  I fear that’s something even someone like you could figure out,” he growled back.

“Someone like me has figured out how to mitigate damage as much as possible from years of experience.  Someone like me has learned unnecessary violence will only make everything worse.”  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to recenter herself, when she reopened her eyes, they retained the same blazing frustration, but her voice was steady and calm, disturbingly so for anyone who knew her.  “You can’t shoot them.  That is not how we deal with akuma.”

“That’s how I deal with bad guys, kid,” he snarled back.  He took a step forward expecting her to step back, but she stood her ground meaning they were now physically touching chests and he had to lean back slightly to look down and meet her gaze.  “This here is the real world and in the real world, you have to get a little dirty,” he lectured, not bothering to keep his condescension from his voice.  “You can’t just sing a little song to make the bad guys turn good.  Maybe that’s why you haven’t been able to defeat your villain.”

“That is literally how we stopped one akuma, you pretentious, cretinous brute.  Violence doesn’t solve everything.”  She leaned forward, filling in the space he had created and poking her finger against his armored chest.  “In fact, responding with violence has made a lot of our situations worse.  And I’ll tell you one more thing someone like me knows, that even if they don’t look like one, it is wholly, unmitigatedly wrong to shoot a kid even if he doesn’t look like one at the moment.”

She walked away a few steps, missing the way his entire body tensed at her words.  When she turned back to him, she had a cocky smirk on her face, arms crossed, and hip cocked.  “We fight smarter, not harder.  I would say you should try it, but smarter doesn’t appear to be your strong suit.”

Red Hood stepped forward but before he could retort, another figure landed just next to him.  “Oh good, you met the local heroes,” Nightwing cheered, his voice clearly artificially bright.

“I really need you guys to stay out of our way,” Ladybug stated, her voice commanding, clearly intended for all of the bats, but her eyes not straying from Red Hood.

“Yep, he met them,” Red Robin grimaced.  He took a breath and turned to Ladybug and the rest of the team with a calm, confident expression.  “We don’t intend to get in your way.  We will assist if you need, but we are here for the meeting.  We can just treat this like research.”

Ladybug forced out a breath then another before turning to Red Robin and Nightwing.  Her demeanor completely changing from confrontational to commanding.  “Look, you guys clearly didn’t bother to do your research before coming, so here’s the crash course…”

“You seem like you’d be familiar with crashing,” Red Hood muttered loudly enough for everyone on the roof to hear.

Red Robin glared at him.  This could be a great collaboration, helping not only the Miraculous team but the Justice League as well.  He needed to make clear they were not supporting Red Hood in this.  “Didn’t you crash into a billboard a few weeks ago?”

“I was thrown into one.  There’s a difference,” Red Hood hissed, stepping up to Red Robin who danced just out of his reach along the edge of the roof.

“Focus, children,” Nightwing thundered.  He waited a few seconds, staring down Red Hood and Red Robin before turning to Ladybug and motioning for her to continue.

Instead, Chat stepped in.  “Okay real quick, Hawk Moth uses magic to take over people and make them do things they would likely never choose to do otherwise.  They are given magic powers and the powers vary by person.  The magic is anchored in an item.  Break that item, free the person.”

“Also important,” Ladybug cut in, “the people corrupted can be anyone.  They can be completely innocent people.  They could be children,” she added pointedly.  “And they remember everything.  They remember what they did and what was done to them.”  She met Red Hood’s eyes fiercely.  “Do not give our children, or any of our citizens, any more trauma than they already have.”

Red Robin waited impatiently, his eyes volleyed back and forth between them a few times before he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.  “Is the object always prominent?”

“No,” Rena answered when Ladybug still hadn’t broken her glare.  Plus, it was Red Robin!  She was getting to talk with Red Robin!  “Sometimes it's hidden.”

He quirked his head and let his gaze move past her toward the akuma that had now come out into the open.  “How do you know what it is.”

Ladybug finally tore her glare from Red Hood to redirect it toward the akuma.  “We figure it out,” she answered, almost absentmindedly, her focus now on the akuma as her eyes darted to every part of it.

“We deduce it based on the cause of the possession and context clues,” Chat added.

Ladybug turned back at the loud scoff clearly coming from Red Hood’s direction.  “For example,” she snapped, stepping up to him again, “in this case we know it started from a game of The Floor is Lava, the handle of the drawer he was holding onto broke, so…”  She paused and whipped around, eyes narrowed at the Akuma in the distance for just a moment before looking around, eyes tracing her yoyo, then the line to Red Hood, to Carapace to just past him to the edge of the building, then to Chat, and back to the akuma.   “Carapace," she stated.  Her words were heavily weighted like it there was an entire conversation in that one word.

And clearly there was, because Carapace instantly stood at attention and followed the path her eyes had followed seconds before, nodding in understanding.  “On it,” he reported as he stepped into position at the edge of the building.

“Rena, a bit of cover, if you will.”  Rena nodded and pulled her flute up to her lips, ready to play when the time was right.  “Get ready Chat.”  Her words carried the same weight, communicating everything with her tone and body language.

Chat followed her gaze and narrowed his eyes at an area of the akuma’s chest that was protruding strangely.  “Always m'lady,” he answered with a determined nod.

Nightwing stepped forward.  “Um, do you want to share for the rest of us?  We speak to each other with our eyes not our tone so we’re a bit lost.”

Ladybug ignored him and stepped up to Red Hood with a broad, artificial smile.  “Just want to say thank you so much for your service,” she purred.

Red Hood bobbed his head back and tried to take a step away, he was familiar with crazy, Harley had trained them all pretty well, and he would prefer to have some kind of point of reference to know if it was the fun crazy or someone’s going to die crazy.  Unfortunately for him, he was already standing on the edge of the roof and had no place to go.  “Wha...”

Before he could finish snapping at her, she kicked him hard in the chest.  He tried to flail his arms, but his wrists were still bound together.  Not only could he not flail, he couldn’t try to scramble at the side of the building to slow his descent.  Nightwing jumped after him, but before he could reach him, a green shield appeared beneath him, not slowing his descent, but clearly there to keep him from hitting the lava.

Red Robin watched them long enough to make sure they would be okay before turning back to watch the Miraculous team just in time to see Ladybug, and therefore Chat, who was riding on her shoulders, get launched by the input force from her yoyo line, like taut line snapping and recoiling when the counterweight disappeared.  Just as they reached the apex, there were a few flute notes played and Chat disappeared, but within seconds, ‘Cataclysm’ echoed over and between the buildings and Ladybug was moving smoothly and quickly over the rooftops toward the akuma.

Her yoyo line retracted with a speed that defied physics and was released again.  He was only able to track it due to the glowing light it emitted before she reeled it back in.  Rena whispered something he couldn’t understand before stepping up next to him with a huge grin and looking over the side.  “It’s over now, you can come back up.”

Carapace patted Red Robin on the shoulder.  “That was fun.  We should do that again.  I enjoyed working with you.”

Red Robin peeked over the side of the building to verify Nightwing was giving Red Hood a ride back up with the grappling hook before returning his attention to Carapace with a smirk.  “I agree.  Best collaboration we’ve had in a while.”

Rena turned her attention to Red Robin with an excited grin.  ‘Hey, so,” she continued speaking uninterrupted even as a swarm of ladybugs flew all around them removing the lava, repairing the buildings, returning Nightwing and Red Hood to the roof, and Red Hood’s guns to his holsters.  She motioned toward Nightwing without breaking eye contact with Red Robin.  “He mentioned you guys communicate through looks.  How do you do that when you all have the film over your eyes?”

“Experience,” a gruff voice answered from behind her.

Rena spun around and let out a squeal as Batman stepped out of the shadows to announce his presence.  “That was so cool!”

“That’s why he does it,” Nightwing joked.

“Who does what?” Chat asked as he landed next to Red Robin just seconds before Ladybug.

“Batman,” she acknowledged instantly, her eyes finding him before she’d landed.  Chat, however, screamed and jumped away in surprise, almost ending up in Red Robin’s arms.  She continued without missing a beat.  “It is nice to…”

Before she could continue, Red Hood barreled over to her, not stopping until he was towering over her, his massive body, seemingly even larger due to his armor, looming over her.  “You could have killed me!” he thundered in a dark, cold voice.

Instead of being intimidated as he was used to, she crossed her arms over her chest with an unimpressed scoff.  “I kicked you in the chest plate.”

“You didn’t know,” he accused.

“I felt it earlier.  I knew you would be fine,” she snarled back but then she straightened up and opened her eyes wide in a perfect imitation of the innocence she usually embodied.  “And you were so concerned with helping save the day I just knew you would want to help.”  She almost kept the façade up except for a slight quirk of her lip when Chat snickered.

"Oh, you're starting a war you aren't prepared for, little girl," he growled.

She raised an eyebrow and leaned back like she was contemplating him.  “I just defeated a lava monster.  I think I’ll be just fine with little old you.  And just because you’re bigger, it doesn’t mean you’re older, tougher, or smarter.  It just means you have more capacity for bullshit.”

“Being smaller doesn’t mean you have less bullshit; it just means it’s more concentrated,” he hissed back.

Ladybug opened her mouth to respond but Chat cut in.  “While I think there’s room for both to be true, this is not what is important right now.”

“Hood, we have more important things to discuss,” Batman barked.  “Ladybug, I believe we had some things to discuss.”

Ladybug turned to Batman with a forced smile.  “Sorry, I was distracted.”

“Don’t worry about it.  He can be very distracting,” Red Robin assured her.

“The incompetent ones usually are,” she snipped back without moving her eyes from Batman.

Red Hood took a menacing step forward, but Nightwing put his arm out in front of his chest and silently pushed him back.  “Let’s go somewhere a bit less exposed,” Batman suggested pointedly.

Ladybug nodded and motioned to a rooftop nearby.  “There’s a bit more room over there and Rena can provide cover and Carapace can provide a sound barrier.”

“Perfect,” Batman nodded and grappled after her.

Nightwing kept his hold on Red Hood until she had already landed on the rooftop, far out of his reach.  “You’re going to have to figure out how to work with her,” he warned Red Hood.  “If she’s as good as I think she is, we’re going to be working with her a lot.”

“She threw me off of a building!” Hood hissed at him.

“No,” Nightwing smirked, “she kicked you off a building.  And who hasn't?”

“Me.  I haven't,” Carapace popped up next to them.  “Can I?”

Hood turned to him slowly, pointedly.  Even through the mask, it was clear he was glaring.  “No.”

Carapace took a step back, hands held up.  “Ooookay,” he shrugged.  “Little disappointed, dude, not going to lie.  You guys good to get over on your own or need help?”

Nightwing covered his mouth with his hand to hide his snicker.  “No, we’re good.  Be right there.”

“Rightio.”  He saluted them and was gone.

“We won’t have to work with her if I take her out,” Hood observed, a bit too darkly to be joking.

“You can't kill her.  Wonder woman loves her.  Thinks of her like a little sister because of the whole her mom was Ladybug thing,” he pointed out with a smirk.  “You’re going to have to work with her.

“But I’m pretty positive she's evil,” he huffed.  He shot out his grappling hook to swing over to the meeting.

“Honestly, kinda surprised that doesn't make you like her more,” Nightwing chuckled.  He suddenly straightened up, face bright with excitement.  “Or!  Focus on taking her out… on a date!”  His laughter returned full force, echoing over the rooftops, at the glare he could feel Jason sending him from under his mask as he swung away.  “This is going to be fun,” he giggled to himself before grappling to join the others.

[itsphoenix0724]

Meet Me On The Ice (Azriel x Reader)~ Chapter 1

Summary: You and Lucien Vanserra have been skating together since you were children, but when he has an accident that takes him out right before championships you turn to your brother and his hockey team to fill the position. His best friend Azriel has lethal grace on the ice and owes your brother a favor, which seems like a match made in heaven, except you can’t stand each other. Can you and Azriel pull a routine together in time for your competition, or will it all spiral out of control?

MMOTI masterlist

Warnings: mentions of injury, blood

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Hello everyone! Happy December, my final exams are over so I'm so excited to get back into writing! As you all know I've been planning this for a while, so I hope you're all as excited as I am!!

DISCLAIMER: I am not a figure skater or a hockey player, so while I'm trying to be as accurate as possible, it's likely some things may not be correct and/or are bent a little to fit the plot!

Figure skating is a lot more thrilling than people give it credit for. Only a few people are willing to be thrown 5 feet in the air at 20 miles an hour and completely trust the other person to catch them. 

The ice was always your happy place. The biting chill against your skin, the feel of gliding across the rink faster than light. It was thrilling, to say the least. You and Lucien had worked so hard this season to advance this far, and you only had a couple of competitions left before the both of you graduated from university. The two of you were on a winning streak, and this competition looked like it would turn out no different. Your coach smiled from the sidelines as the two of you performed in perfect sync, his hands around your waist as he lifted you effortlessly into the air before resting you safely back on your skates. It was time for the big finish, you sped in a circle around the rink executing a triple toe and Lucien built up his momentum to launch his axel. Your eyes dart to the judges' impressed faces before you whip your head back to him and- 

Something’s wrong. 

The angle– the spin, is all out of balance, and in the blink of an eye, Lucien hits the ice. His head makes a sickening crack on the ground as red floods around him, and his right leg is twisted in the wrong way. The scream you let out doesn’t even sound like yours as you race over to him, the sounds of the crowd echoing around you in a sick symphony. 

“Oh my god” 

“Someone call an ambulance!” 

“Get him off the ice quick!” 

You don’t hear any of them too busy trying to shake Lucien awake with tears streaming down your cheeks, but he’s knocked out cold. A blur of red is next to you and it takes you a moment before you realize it’s Lucien’s mother. It’s another gut-wrenching eternity of trying your best to hold a towel against his head to stop the bleeding, Lucien still unresponsive, before the gentle hands of a paramedic ease you away from your best friend. You watch with abject horror as they load him onto a stretcher, and carry him out of the rink. Helping Lucien’s mother off of the ice, she follows them outside. The ringing in your ears still hasn’t stopped, not even when your own mother and father come racing down the arena steps, a hand coming out to hold your jaw, and another wrapping your coat around your shoulders. Before you blink again they’re ushering you out of the rink and into the car. 

It’s two days before you can see Lucien in the hospital. 

You had driven in complete silence, anxiety coiled like a viper in the pit of your stomach. Parking your car in the visitor lot you look at the teddy bear you buckled safely into your passenger seat, its soft brown hands clutching a heart with cursive writing spelling Get Well Soon.  It had been dumb and cheesy, but you snagged it at the grocery store while picking up some of Lucien’s favorite snacks and couldn’t resist. 

Hopefully, it would make him laugh at least.

The nurse at the desk smiles at you kindly before pointing you in the right direction of his room. The atmosphere of the hospital weighs painfully on your shoulders as the elevator ride seems to stretch on for decades. You thankfully find Lucien’s room easily enough, his russet eyes light up at the sight of you even with the angry red stitches that run through his hair. 

“There she is!” He bellows, eyeing the bear and the bag of treats with interest. You set them on his bed and he laughs a joyous sound as he props the bear next to him on the bed, declaring it his new best friend. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask tentatively, settling into a chair next to his bed. His leg is in a cast, elevated, and you run your bottom lip between your teeth with worry. 

“I’m alright, all things considered.” He promises rifling through the bag to dig out the pack of spicy chips, “I’ve got a concussion, and my legs broken so bad I’ll be in physical therapy for months.” Lucien meets your eyes mournfully, looking as if you’d just punched him in the face. “I won’t be able to skate for the rest of the season. I’m so sorry.” He dips his eyes averting his gaze to the broken leg, like glaring at it hard enough will force it back together again. You feel your heart sink to your feet, but you refuse to let it show, trying to keep a happy smile on your face. 

“None of that matters, all I care about is that you’re okay.” You reach out to grip his hand, and his warm palms engulf your own.

“You can find another partner to finish the season,” He urges,  Lucien’s other hand comes up to cup your cheek, wiping away the silver trying to fight its way out of your eyes despite your best efforts. You had already registered in the partner skate division, so it was too late to switch now. But even thought makes your stomach turn.

“No one could ever replace you,” You promise, leaning into his warmth. It’s the truth. You had been skating with Lucien since you were small, and now you’re about to graduate from university. There could be no one else. No one else that, without fail, had such a warm touch even on the ice rink. No one else you could trust to catch you every time, even if it means sacrificing his safety. 

You had tried to skate with one other partner, once, in freshman year when Lucien caught the flu so bad he was puking for weeks. It hadn’t ended well and you hadn’t trusted anyone since. 

“You should skate your last season. Even if this new guy will never be as good as me.” It’s a lighthearted attempt at a joke, and you accept the crutch of humor, chest rising with a breath of laughter. “You could ask Rhys, maybe he’d do it? He used to skate before he switched to hockey right?” That was true, but he switched to hockey right before middle school to play with his friends, maybe he’d consider it if it didn’t conflict too much with his schedule. 

“I’ll think about it, let's focus on tearing through these snacks in the meantime,” You snag the peanut butter cups out of his bag despite Lucien’s vehement protests and turn the staticky hospital tv to shitty afternoon cartoons. 

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

You held your tears in successfully until you got home. You didn’t want Luicen to feel guilty, didn’t want him to see you cry, so here you were curled in a ball under your covers. Hiding from your problems like a child, hoping if you just ignored them long enough they would magically solve themselves. You had asked Rhys earlier about possibly skating with you, but between learning to take over your father’s business, university, and hockey he understandably regretfully declined. The bedroom door creaks open, hearing the delicate tread of Rhys’s footsteps before he settles next to you on the bed, rubbing a soothing hand along your curved form. 

“It’ll be alright I promise,” Rhys mutters. “I think I might have a solution, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” You rise from your chosen shelter, raising a brow and wiping at your tear-stained cheek. 

“What is it?” You question, and Rhys almost flinches. “I’ll do almost anything to skate again.” He must see the desperation and he carries on anyway. 

“Azriel is still suspended from the team at the moment, and he owes me a favor…” Rhys watches your eyes catch up to his words, the disgust flashing in them. Both of Rhys’s best friends had couched surfed at your house at one time or another, and you and Azriel had never gotten along. Not like sunshiney Cassian, who may be viscous on the ice but was one of the most gentle people you knew. Cas was the one who made an effort to include you in activities, who playfully tossed you in the pool in the summer, and took you for long drives when you were upset. Azriel spent those summers by the pool brooding in the shade until you left, and was currently suspended from the Velaris University hockey team for throwing another player so hard into the glass he was concussed. “You said you would do almost anything to skate again,” Rhys raises his hands in surrender and you roll your eyes. 

“What about Cassian?” you offer. He would probably do it for you, but Cas wasn’t suited for figure skating. His style was too brutish, it was nothing against him, he just wouldn’t pick up the flow and patience you needed to skate with the music fast enough in time for the competition. As much as you hated to admit it, Azriel moved across the ice like smoke, flowing and ebbing with a lethal grace you couldn’t help but admire. 

“Cas is too busy with school and hockey,” Rhys had clearly already run through the option. You knew that if you begged Cassian he probably would, but his stance at the school depended entirely on his grades and his performance in hockey. You wouldn’t give him any chance to mess up his scholarship.  “Please just talk to Az with me tomorrow.” 

“Fine.” You relent, perhaps with a little more attitude than necessary. So you correct yourself, Rhys is going out of his way to help you. “Thank you.” He gives you a small smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving your room. 

So that was how you found yourself bundled up at the rink, at six in the fucking morning, with Rhy watching Azriel practice. He moved like a panther, prowling around the ice and slapping the puck with such ferocity the crack makes you flinch. He tears off his helmet, skating over with a mop of sweat-soaked hair. Az’s hazel eyes flick over you once in distaste before dismissing you completely and turning his attention to Rhys, which makes your temper rise to a heated spark of fury. Your brother clears his throat, nudging you on the back to speak. Azriel turns back to you and raises a cold dark brow.  

“Would you please consider being my skating partner for my last few competitions this season? Please” you choke out, trying your best to send him a pleasant smile. Then, Azriel actually has the balls to laugh at you. 

“Yeah, I heard about what happened to Vanserra. What makes you think I would ever want to do that?” Azriel chuckles out, voice dripping with sarcasm. You’re about to agree, call this whole mess off, and return to the comfort of your bed when Rhys cuts in. 

“Because you owe me,” The two of them have some silent stare-down that you wish you could be privy to. Whatever Rhys had done for Azriel in the past it must have been big because after a moment Azriel fixes those molten eyes on you again. 

“Fine, I’ll do it. Be here tomorrow at five so we can try to figure out this shitshow.” He tucks his helmet back over his head and prowls back around to the ice. You guess you’ll be meeting him here tomorrow night and you find yourself agreeing with the sentiment that this will be a shit show indeed.   

[ashascoven]

❃☆ showering w/ the pyromaniac rat man ☆❃ pt. 2

☆ the demons im fighting to post this... the embarrassment is REAL!!

☆ anyways, hi! this is the part 2 to my junkrat x reader fanfic, except.. this one's.. smutty / NSFW

☆ here is the first part of the fanfic, it's also just on my profile, but you can very much enjoy this without needing pt. 1 !!!

☆ FANFIC DEETS! junkratxreader ☆

THIS IS SMUT / NSFW, meaning it is 18+

reader is a female who's known for working with plants, plant themed nicknames and female genitals are used here

praise, stuttering, edging, mostly dom jamie + fluff?? its intense out here yall..

want a playlist to shuffle to while reading? here's the one i made to write this to <3, i promise it's a hot listen!!

☆ FOR READERS WHO ARE JUST HERE FOR THE SMUT but would like to know about pt 1. without reading it!

part 1 was essentially about the reader and junkrat being sent on a duo mission together. they're temporarily staying in a semi-abandoned hut that resides in a struggling town targeted by Talon, a well-feared terrorist group. anyway, junkrat's annoying and stinky to sleep with, but he likes being cuddled! so, he agreed to only shower (with the reader) if they cuddled under the water of a decently sized shower-room. the reader ends up bathing him, and junkrat opens up about himself, thanking the reader for not treating him differently. this leads to "cuddles"..

“Oh screw you, mate!”

“You probably would.”

“Ya know what? Maybe I woul-” He stopped himself from immediately snapping back, covering his mouth like his life depended on it. His eyes were wide, and yours were closed shut from your own laughter.

“Pfft!! You know what? Fine! Yeah, sure!!” You yawn-giggled, putting your soap and loofah to the side and leaning your back against his chest with a closed eyed smile.

“Uh-huh?? W-what're ya’.. d-doin’, mate??”

“Didn’t you say you wanted.. uh, bath cuddles? Surely you wouldn't mind holding me instead right nooww..” You yawned.

“O-Ohoh! Phew!! Seems like it’s my turn n’ cuddlin’ a fine lookin’ celebrity!” He giggled, not minding a single bit in being able to lowkey return the favor of you cuddling him earlier and cleaning him now.

He happily wrapped his lanky arms around your waist again, his hands landing a little further than intended and was resting on a certain area of yours, but it wasn't on purpose.

This woke you up, and with a little slight gasp at the touch, “I-I.. Jamie..-”

"Oh! W-wait! I-.. Sorry! It.. w-wasn't intended, my brain’s just lost from our talkin’, I swear, mate-!”

“I wasn't complaining..” You admitted painfully.

As if the shower steam wasn't strong enough, a guilty blush overheated your face.

“I-I.. Oh… O-oh..??!?”

“I w-wouldn't mind it if… ya know..” You slowly put your hand above his. You don't know what came over, but you couldn't find it in yourself to ask directly.

“..n-not that i-i’d force it or a-anything! I mean, we a-are still on a mission on after all and we aren't.. even.. together like that!? My mind wandered t-too far anywa-”

“o-ooh~.. J-Jamie..?” You gasped in surprise, not expecting him to actually go through with it.

“lettin’ ya know i’m.. probably not the best a’it..” He hovered over you from behind, mumbling into your ear. His fingers started rubbing between your legs.

“haah.. I-It’s okay, but y-you really.. oh god~..! y-you don't have t-to- mmh..” You fumbled on your words, your back leaning deeper against him. 

“shh,” he hushed you, his robotic hand covering your mouth gently as his normal one kept rubbing you, “I’ve got ya’ now.”

“m-mmh.. hnnmhh~..” You moaned into the sealed metal, feeling your hips slowly grind against his fingers. Your hands were now gripping on both of his arms, but you didn't want out.

“just- let me help ya out.. least I could do for a pretty princess..” His voice was a bit more serious, but it made your heart race. You really didn't expect to see this bolder side of him so soon.

He moved the hand from your mouth to one side of your chest, giving it tender squeezes and pinches that earned loud moans out of you.

“a-aah! Jamie~!” You screamed out, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“i’m listenin’, my angel”

It was as if he knew all of the right ways to tend to your buds, ways you could've sworn only you grew to know. The running water also helped touch all of your body, making your senses go wild.

“whew doll.. ya’ sound like sugar n’ sweets to my ears, surely you.. taste the same?” He breathed out, starting to bite down at your exposed neck. 

He switched hands, his metallic one now tending to your garden below as his normal fingers played with your other breast. The temperature difference in metal to skin made shivers of excitement run through you upon much contact.

To say he was good at multitasking would be an understatement; he was amazing at it.

“agh! nngh..” was all you managed to get out before continuing your cries of pleasure and repeating his name. All of the sensational spells he had you under only made you so drunk for more.

“i knoow, me’ sunflower..~ le’it all out for me..” 

“you’ree soo pretty soundin’.. i could take your beauty in like this aaalll daayy..” He could feel his ears get warm from his own words, grateful to be able to practically worship such a beauty in this moment.

“aaaah~.. p-pleeaaasee..!”

“you're doin’ so good for me,” he praised, his fingers getting quicker, “this feels nice, don't it?”

He rubbed those two magical fingers in all the right circles that had your toes curling for more.

You never wanted him to stop.

“y-yeeaah~.. I-I’m.. alreeaady c-cloose..!” You whined, your hands finding a place to grip on his thighs. You felt your back arch as you neared your release.

His hand below your waist moved even quicker. The other hand that was squeezing your breast moved downward to help your heated area, slightly spreading your folds open with two fingers as he tended to your pearl.

Then, he suddenly slowed down, just enough for you to not reach the top of the hill yet. Earning a whiny moan out of you, the knot in your stomach subsided from the painful change of pace.

“mmmh.. w-why'd youu haaave to stopp..?”

“not yet.. ‘m not done with ya’ just yet, doll..” He breathed out, moving both of his hands to hold at your love handles. You felt himself press against your back as he buried his stubble-haired chin into your neck. He felt.. excited.

“mmghhhh… waarrmm..” He snuggled against you once again, using this moment to take you in a more cozier way. His hands moved up to your chest again, slowly kneading into your softness.

It was honestly kind of like a warning, knowing this man who’s enjoying himself just from hugging you is probably about to absolutely ruin you. 

His height? His touchiness? The way he sweet-talked you? All of those things said it all, and you were so into it.

You shuffled around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. His hands made their way to your ass.

He still managed to enjoy cuddling your neck as you moved, letting out a moan at the way one of your hands reached into his now semi-wet hair.

“crikey, I don't think ya’ even.. know what you're doing to me, lady..” He groaned into your neck, before starting to leave a trail of marked kisses going upwards to your chin.

“aah..ahah, I can definitely feel it.” You moaned into a chuckle, trying to kiss his nose as he kissed your face. 

His grip on you tightened as the kisses you two shared grew more passionate. 

His lips, slightly unchapped from the water, pressed against yours. Both of you leaned into one another with closed eyes, dancing around each other's tongues and enjoying the tango under the shower’s rain.

You loved the way his mouth felt, how it felt like a new cavern to explore while preparing for the real ride he had waiting for you. The way his gold teeth felt slightly different from the rest that your tongue grazed over made you soak into how real all of this was. 

As badly as you wanted him to take you at your core, you enjoyed kissing him up here too. You could get used to this. <3

One of his hands made its way up to your hair, it now being his turn to run his fingers through it. The way he massaged at your scalp as he took his time searching you with his lips made you moan into the kiss.

“mm, you're soo.. pretty..” He muttered, pulling away for a couple seconds before going back to attack your lips. This made you smile against his face, unconsciously pressing yourself closer to his body. 

He'd do this a couple more times, murmuring about your beauty in-between catching his breath.

He didn't need open eyes to know that the person he was about to ravish was beautiful. 

He could feel your body against his, the way yours still managed to be softer and hotter despite being under the same water as him, and this drove him wild.

His lips moved back to your neck, his kisses going lower and lower. 

He made sure to kiss any mark and crease his mouth could find before eventually having you against a wall with his arms wrapped around your legs. 

He was basically laying on his stomach, your hands struggling to hold yourself up as he held at your lower body, fully ready to eat you up like ice cream on a hot summer day.

“so.. gorgeous…” He marveled at your display for him, making you silently look to the side in your own embarrassment.

As soon as he started kissing at your core, you felt your nails nearly scratch into the tiles you were sitting on, the fluttery feeling from before making way to your stomach once again.

“aaahh~.. James..” You gasped, your eyes squinting in pleasure.

He kissed all around, making sure to let his mouth tease at your petals. 

His tongue traveled inwards when you were quieter, and outwards when you whined for him. He purposely ran it over your bud, swirling around your clit the way his fingers did before, only to slow down when you got louder.

It was a cycle of teasing you and figuring out what made you squeal, just so he could eat you out for as long as he wanted. <3

“J-Jamie..! ohh, g-god..! please~! it f-feels so~oo.. so g-good..” You panted and stuttered a storm for this man, your brain melting to mush at the way he handled you. 

You had no chance at being wet on your own; his tongue soaked in all of your juices for him to swallow, quickly replacing it with the wetness of his own mouth. 

His hands gripped harder at your thighs. He couldn't get enough of the way you smelled and tasted. 

You smelled so.. natural, and tasted so-so-so delicious. His bomb-driven brain couldn't process it any better than going faster with his tongue.

“..nngh~! J-Jami-.. Jami~soonn..! s-so c-close~!”

Your hips rode at his face and his grasp on your legs, one arm shaking at holding yourself up while the other pulled at his cloudy hair.

He groaned at the hair pulling, slithering one of his arms from holding your legs down to help tend to your core.

Two of his fingers made it inside, making your freed leg rise and spread further from all of the pleasure. The hand you had in his hair was now covering your own mouth, desperately biting at your knuckle from being so overwhelmed in the steamy tension.

You didn't know what to do with yourself, your hand immediately making it back into Jamison’s hair as you kept crying his name.

“h-huff.. Jaa~mie..!”

You breathing his name out the way you did made him pump his fingers more quicker, the sound of you being so wet for him making his lower stomach ache more for you.

His fingers curled into you as his tongue focused on circling your clit, occasionally dipping into its hood and making your whole lower body twitch in rhythm with his movements.

It was too much now, and you were gonna burst.

“a-aah! I-I'm..~ I'm g-gonna..! hnnghh~..! nngh-!”

With the last flicks of his tongue on you, you came, your release making you roll your eyes back in pure ecstasy. 

Catching your breath, you struggled to focus on Jamison, looking at the top of his hair rise with a daze in your eyes. 

He pulled away proudly, admiring his work as you slowly oozed all over his fingers. 

The sudden air replacing his tongue and caressing your bare sweetness made your liquids come out with more sudden pressure, truly a sight for him to behold.

He took you in fully with his half-lidded eyes.. the way you closed your eyes and panted because of him, the way your hips buckled in pleasure because of him, the way you were turned on and sent to heaven because of him.. he felt honored.

He reached down to taste you one more time, just to drink at what you had just served him. With some of it dripping from the tip of his nose, he raised himself up with a smile.

“..t-that was the bomb, wasn't it-?”

Now, what he didn't expect was for you to immediately tackle him down afterwards, your lips once again pressed into his.

He grunted in surprise, but happily kissed you back and ran his hands all over your waist.

You pulled away from him with your hands holding his face, staring into his love-drunk eyes with your own of the currently same type. 

Your noses were touching, lips nearly doing the same, and the tension that was once released found its way back again.

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything yet, so you spoke through attacking his neck with your own mouth, giving him a taste of his own gunpowder.

The way he looked under the dimmed light and running water made you want to just litter his body in kisses, and god he loved it.

“o-ohh..! d-doll.. mmgh..”

It was his turn to seep into a melty mess, nearly drooling at the way you pecked kisses onto his Adam's apple.

Both of your hands were now on his shoulders as you made your way all over his chest, moving down to his sides. 

You left hickies all over his body, the ones you left near his v-line making him squirm the most in his spot.

Your legs held him down, your warmer spot dangerously close to his, but you made sure to make the most of this position, continuing your kissing while grinding against the waist area right above his cock. 

Being able to feel the prickly hairs down there rub against you only fueled the fire between you two more.

He groaned under you, throwing his head back with a ‘oh, you've really done it..~’

You looked up at him as you made your way down to his legs, your fingers already teasing the tip of his dick.

He squinted at you with a blush all over his face, all over his body even, shamefully covering his mouth with his metal hand for the time being.

“o-oh? I see now,” you chuckled, “someone wants my help, y-yeah?”

Guiltily, he nodded his head, groaning into his arm as you tended to him. 

Your body was still recovering from before, so you saved your shaky voice, reaching for his free hand, guiding it to his own shaft and starting to make him rub himself.

Your hand was resting over his as you slowly brought it up and down, occasionally kissing him or his waist.

He didn't think you could've turned him on anymore than he already was, but he was so wrong. 

He felt like he was flying, your desirable pecks on his body making him whine even more into his arm in bliss. The way your mouth and hands felt so perfect on his body made his longing to be inside of you much more stronger than he thought was ever possible.

You started to kiss all over his tip, your tongue slowly making way to the skin right below it. Your teasing tongue made his busy hand move to your head once again, your own hand now working on its own.

Up and down, up and down, you rubbed him, making sure to look up at him every time your mouth made it onto the top of his hard member, each kiss making a ‘pop’ that caused him to twitch in even more pleasure.

“g-gosh, woman.. y-you’re reeaall- mmh.. good a’this..”

“..mmhhmm..?”

“y-you're so done when i get to ya’- oouh~..”

“mmmmhh..” you responded, moaning as you took most of his length into your mouth. 

His legs were already weak at how warm your throat felt around him. The grasp he had on your scalp tightened as you moved with your mouth, making sure to really suck at his cock and cover it in your spit.

“augh..~” he threw his head back as he unconsciously started to push at your head every time you went down, “j-just like that.. o-oh yeah..~”

His sides shuddered every time your teeth slightly grazed over his foreskin, making him slowly thrust himself into your mouth. Your hands held at his legs as you enjoyed the taste of him. 

His slightly salted taste made your insides throb impatiently to feel him. His largeness made you daringly excited, so you kept swishing your tongue all over, desperate to keep the taste of his liquids in your mouth. 

“m-mmgh.. o-ohoh.. this f-feels.. amazing~..” 

“i w-wanna be inside o-of you.. soo~oo baad, princess..~”

“dooll~ please..”

You took it on yourself to climb back onto him, quickly positioning him into your entrance and slowly letting yourself down on it.

“mgghh.. p-princess~..” He groaned, his hands quickly finding their way to your sides.

“aah.. ohh J-Jamie..!” You followed, your hands on his shoulders as you started to let yourself adjust his length. 

God, he was so big, and so tough; he felt like caramel inside of you, hardened like caramel candy and wet like syrup all at the same time.

Those butterflies in your chest wasted no time expanding down to your core, eventually reaching all over your body. You felt like jittery honey, your tight sweetness wrapping around him in eager neediness.

You needed him, you needed him real bad.

Your hips were tired, but the pleasure made it worth pushing through. You had to lean on him, your chest of perked out buds rubbing against his as you slowly started to move.

He felt something surge through his bones, making his hold on your sides turn into him pounding your softness onto his cock in desperation.

“h-hngh-! a-aah.. b-big..! ha-aah..”

His excitement didn't give you much time to adjust, earning all sorts of whines and squeaks out of you, but you couldn't complain. 

His magic tongue from earlier had prepared you more than enough for what was to come.

His length reached all the right spots in your warmth, you already felt so full of it, so full of him..

“hnngh.. you're so.. r-ready for me, aren't ya’?”

“y-yeahh~.. b-been so- aah~! s-so.. ready..!” You huffed out, your face burning endless heat waves.

“yeah you aare.. mmh, so w-warm.. y-you're so..~ hot..” He groaned into your ear, his breath making you shiver in enjoyment. 

His praise and gruff voice vibrated through your whole body as he panted between sentences, eagerly thrusting into you. 

You were so addicting to him, being inside of you was like opening his senses to a new world of paradise.

He felt himself lose his bearings, thinking of nothing but getting to release all over that pretty body of yours.. getting to admire his work on an ethereal body of art known as you. Whatever he was groaning out about loving your body was unconscious yet so filled with his thoughts.

“need t-to.. take you i-in moore~..” You felt your body try to encapsulate his length deeper into you, but this upright position wasn't enough, and he sensed that too.

Wasting no time in grabbing at your legs, he pushed you onto the tiled floor, now hovering over your laying body with his cock still buried deep into you. He continued his thrusts, his nails nearly digging into the back of your thighs.

“a-aah~! it feels.. h-huff, s-so good-.. p-please~! don't e-ever stop.. nngh..! b-begging-!”

The excitement to get to lick and kiss you all over when he was finished only made him move more quicker, more vigorously. 

All he could think about was you, how you looked in every intimate moment you two had just spent together.. how you were going to look, absolutely soaking in his hard work, all wet and heated because of him.

He couldn't even think of anyone, or anything else, just you.

He raised your legs over his shoulders, his face warming up more at the way your stomach pudged together as he kept moving inside of you. He couldn’t stop internally gushing about how real and natural you were about everything, how any type of acne or hair you had made you all the more alluring to him.

“J-jamie~..! y-you’re.. amazing~! aah, g-god..!”

His mind got lost into how pretty you sounded.. how you called his name, praising him and pleading for him.. He was so lost into you, fucking you ruthlessly just to keep taking you in, just to keep inhaling you like some sort of addiction. He was so damn addicted, who even knew when he planned on ever stopping?

Slowly, he started putting one of your legs back to its previous position, trying to get an even deeper angle at reaching your insides. One arm was wrapped around the leg on his shoulder for support, the other making its way downwards. 

“you take me.. s-soo~o well~.. augh~..”

“d-damn right i do..~ a-aagh, r-right there..~!”

Your hands squeezed at your own chest, neck, and ran through your own hair, sometimes reaching to touch at his waist. You didn’t know where you wanted to grab, too dazed into the moment to care.

He couldn’t help his hands from really touching you again, his thumb finger rubbing your clit, knowing that it’d make you feel even more great. 

Your pleasure was his pleasure, the way you looked and felt made him feel like the luckiest man on Earth just for breathing the same air as you.. He had the honor of making a queen feel good, burying himself further and further into your guts.

“i-i’m.. so f-fuckin’ close~! k-keep going..! y-yeah~.. i’m s-so- aah~! p-please-.. so c-clo~ose..!”

You were so fucked stupid, all you could get out were pleas of never wanting this to end. 

Any thoughts about being tired or annoyed by this man were long gone; only wanting the feeling of his thrusts, kisses, and rubbing to never end. 

“J-jamie~! Jamie-! I..- I’m~!”

“let it aaall outt~.. i’m a-almost there too, l-love~..” He huffed, making sure that he moved fast enough to get you both over the edge.

“aaahh~!.. J-jamie.. mmhh~..”

“mmgh..~”

The feeling of that blissful knot below your stomach releasing itself was holy on its own, the sensations from all over your body coming together to relieve you with such a well earned orgasm. 

He followed right after, pumping himself deep inside of you with a relieved sigh. Both of his hands were now pinning yours against the floor, your legs curled up on their own.

He made sure to really take in this moment, slowly pulling himself out with one hand and watching as you were dripping in his liquid. 

The way he pulled out of you felt so warm and icy at the same time, the air of the room hitting your bare, sensitive areas once again. With the now-cold running water, the heat masking both of your bodies drifted down the drains.

He marveled at your body, admiring in awe at how you were truly such a masterpiece. No bomb or heist could’ve made him as satisfied or joyful as he was with what you two had just accomplished.

It felt like all of the hairs on your body raised from all of the build up, only to calm back down with ease. Your muscles were definitely sore, but you were too starstruck at the handsome man above you for it to even be painful. 

The only thing you were consciously doing right now was looking into his eyes, panting, and feeling yourself flow out onto the tiles just to be washed away by the water. 

The temperature switch stung your weak bud, making you twitch ever so slightly, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You felt so relieved, and any tension or frustration in your body was now gone.

He took in the way that your chest rose and fell after what you two had just done, falling to your side and kissing graciously at your face.

You let yourself melt into his lips again, kissing him back here and there.

Suddenly, you felt a sneaky hand holding a loofa make its way to your back.

“..are you trying to clean me up right now?”

“I.. was the one who.. made the mess all over ya’..”

“It’s fine.. We should just dry ourselves off and head to bed-”

“B-but I need to wash you off, mate!”

“You’re one to talk about someone else needing to be washed..”

“W-well! You’re one to talk considerin’ how I had ya’ laid out 2 minutes ago!”

“..Your point? If you wanna do me again, just say that, ‘mate’ <3 ”

“(；⌣̀_⌣́)”

☆ once again, if anyone actually makes it this far, tysm for reading! feedback is always 100% welcomed and appreciated

☆ i may continue this fic more if people end up liking it, but i also have other fanfics in the making along with a soon-to-be request page!!! >:D

☆ i dunno how i got this finished honestly.. i mean i finished multiple times but still.

☆ literally feeling like that "passed out 8 times but your cinnamon rolls are done sir!" except the rolls are just this fanfic.. fighting DEMONS i tell you, DEMONS!!!

☆ this is my first time writing an australian accent, so if there's any mistakes anywhere pls lmk!! hit my line yall, i dont bite >:D

☆ thank you, eat + stay hydrated, and enjoy your night/day!

[venus-maneater]

a loyal dog’s reward. | yan! criston cole

soft yandere / obsessed au

fem! targaryen princess reader

synopsis. the knight’s death wasn’t convenient, but at least now you knew the lengths Ser Criston was willing to go for you.

part ii.

note; this is an au where rhaenyra/criston never happened ! he is reader’s sworn shield. reader is written with targaryen features and is kind of a sick and twisted brat (we stan). ALL CONTENT ON MY BLOG IS FICTIONAL.

WARNING(s): possessive/obsessive tendencies, violence, minor character death, unhealthy relationship dynamics, manipulation, age gap (reader is 19, criston is around 27), references to size difference, reader knows abt his tendencies and takes advantage of them, nsfw content but not full smut, allusions/references to sex, subby criston cole, dom-ish reader, praise-kink??, breeding kink??, mocking, usage of “dog”

“I know how you think of me.”

Do you really? Do you know how much he thinks of you, how he craves you? How he wants nothing more than to steal you away so no one else can ever see you again except him? He wants you to be his, only his. That’s all he wants.

“You can’t get me out of your head, can you, Ser Criston?”

He knows you emphasized his title on purpose; he was a member of the Kingsguard lusting after the Princess, and yet he couldn’t feel any guilt from behind the overwhelming desire he has for you. It’s not just lust, it’s so much more than lust. He wants you; mind, body, and soul. He wants you to look at him the way he looks at you. He wants to grow old with you and fill you up with babies. Babies that will have his dark hair and your violet eyes, or maybe even the opposite.

“You would do anything for me?”

Yes, gods yes he would. Ask for anything and its yours. Please, please, please ask something of him.

You’d noticed his peculiar behavior months ago, but you suppose it hadn’t gone far enough for you to say anything about it until now. You noticed how his eyes never left your figure if you were in the room, how he stiffened when you stood even remotely near another man, how he followed you around like a lost puppy. It was endearing at first, but tonight he had killed someone for you. Not only that, but he did it violently and in public. In all fairness, the hedge Knight was creepy and invasive, you didn’t like him. But Criston was a member of the Kingsguard, he couldn’t go around killing people just because he wanted to.

There was a tourney to celebrate your older sister Rhaenyra’s first pregnancy. She was married to Laenor around 6 months ago, so most of the family found it pleasant that she was already pregnant. Though, you knew it wasn’t Ser Laenor who was the father (or at least you assumed it wasn’t). You were rather close with your sister and her husband; you knew well what they got up to and what they didn’t. All was well for you, you found Ser Harwin to be a lovely friend.

Although Criston Cole was your sworn shield, you insisted he enter the tourney for the entertainment. Many had entered from all over Westeros, and your shield had always succeeded in physical competitions in the past.

“I’d just like to see you win.” You told him, batting your eyes. He was quick to obey your request at that.

Ser Criston received your favor right before his first round, and won the tournament just as you knew he would. A hedge knight from the Reach came in second place to your shield. He seemed nice enough and was a rather good sport about losing, but frankly he was annoying. He wouldn’t stop following Criston around, which eventually lead to him introducing himself to you as Tion Gracefeld. His presence didn’t bother you at first, but you could clearly tell how much Criston hated it.

After the event ended, there was celebration all throughout King’s Landing, so there was a bit of chaos on the short journey back to the Red Keep. Tion took advantage of this, trying to get closer to you. Of course, Criston was there to push him back each time, telling him “please give the princess some space” through gritted teeth.

His jealousy was a bit cute to you, so you let Ser Tion continue with his behavior. It wasn’t such a bother, but as you approached the castle, his words became less playful and more… sexual. Foul, even.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened for certain, the violence was too quick, but you knew that he grabbed your arm before Ser Criston murdered him for it. The Dornish Kingsguard grabbed Tion, pulling him from you and throwing him to the ground. You were sure the beating was bad, considering it was enough for him to die from his injuries, but you refused to look.

Criston was eventually pulled off the man after a couple minutes, and now here he was. Sitting on the edge of your bed in front of you, hands and armor splattered in blood.

“Look at me.” You told him. You had to give him some credit, he listens to you so well, “Why did you do it? What made you angry enough to kill him?”

You could hear his breath hitch in his throat as you stepped closer, only to stop directly in front of him.

He took in a quick breath before answering, looking up at you with frustrated eyes, “He was talking to you like- like you were some… whore. There was no respect. He was trying— to touch you. I’m your sworn protector, Princess, I was only doing my job.”

He didn’t want you to know about his sick obsession with you, trying to hide it using his position as an excuse for his behavior. Unfortunately for him, it was incredibly obvious. You could tell how angry he still was from the interaction; his hands shaking, chest heaving, and jaw clenched.

“You know,” You started, looking down into Criston’s eyes and leaning closer to his face, “I didn’t really like the guy, myself. But you’ve gotten me into quite the situation. You should be charged for your crimes, I’m afraid.”

Even seated, he was so close to your height that you didn’t have to lean down much to meet at eye-level.

“I’m sorry, my Princess” was all that left him, drunk on the lack of space between you.

“That’s all you have to say?” You whispered, your breath hitting his lips. His pupils were blown impossibly wide, making you smile. As disturbing as this whole thing was, he was almost too attractive for you to care. Almost.

“I don’t want to be taken from you.” He whispered. He didn’t care that he killed someone, he wasn’t sorry, he just didn’t want to be forced to leave you. Tion deserved his wrath; he got too close to you.

You smiled slightly, standing back up to your full height. Using your knee, you pushed the man’s legs apart so you could stand between them. Your hands moved from your sides to his chest, “You won’t. I’ll fix it for you, I truly don’t mind. My father will believe me when I tell him Ser Tion was harassing me, and that you just stepped in to defend my honor.”

Criston gulped, taking in a deep breath to surround himself in your scent. He didn’t say a word.

Your hands slowly creeped up to his shoulders, then into his hair, “Do you ever think about kissing me, Ser Criston?”

His eyelids dropped slightly, the euphoria of your hands running through his locks reaching him.

“As your Princess, you’re sworn to tell me the truth.”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes, “Please, Princess. I am soiled with blood, I don’t want it touching you.”

“No? Then perhaps you should’ve exercised more self-control.” You quipped. Deciding to make things more difficult, you climbed into his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs. There was a lot less blood on his legs than on his chest or arms, but you could still feel a bit of it seeping into the gentle fabric of your silk dress. Good thing you were wearing red.

His eyes squeezed shut even tighter. Self-control you had said. Was this a test? Did you want him to sit still? Then he would. His bloodied hands were balled up in fists beside him.

“You defend me fiercely,” You said. “kind of like a dog, don’t you think.”

It wasn’t a real question, he knew you were just mocking him for his behavior. You knew about him. You know how sick he is for you.

“My fierce dog,” You grinned, “protecting me from any man that speaks his filthy words to me.”

You were perfect, so perfect. His goddess.

“Do you want a reward for your behavior? For protecting me?” You asked. Criston was amusing to you. It was boring at court, having so many people try to flatter themselves into gaining your favor, men trying to marry you for power. But Criston Cole was different; he was genuinely dedicated to you. As a member of the Kingsguard, he had nothing to gain from being with you.

“Reward?” He rasped, his eyes fluttering open, curious. You had never look so pretty as you did in this moment; smiling at him whilst sat atop his lap.

“Yes, a reward. I can give you a kiss, if you’d accept?”

“A kiss?” He questioned, shocked at your proposal.

You giggle at him, moving close enough that your noses are touching, “Is that a ‘no’? Do you not want a kiss from your princess?”

He does. He really does. But how could he dare dishonor you by accepting? A Princess of the realm should not be kissing her guard. Your reputation would be ruined if anyone were to find out.

“Can’t.” He eventually sputtered, his forehead resting against yours.

“And why not? Do you not fantasize about it? What other fantasies do you have?”

His eyes were squeezed shut, but he could hear the smirk in your voice. “I— yes, but Princess….” He cut himself off before he finished, you must save your affections for your future husband.

He held back a snarl; he didn’t want you to have a future husband, at least not one that wasn’t him. But he was not allowed to be married and even if he were, he was not high-born like you. Your father would never approve.

“Answer me, Cole, tell me what you imagine occurring between us.” You were getting frustrated with him, this was supposed to be easy, “Look back up at me properly.”

He did as you said and more; finally letting his urges control him, he pushed his lips to yours. His hands, the blood now beginning to dry and stick, gripped at your waist tightly. You gasped into his mouth, quick to reciprocate with your hands pulling at his dark locks.

“‘Think about marrying you,” he muttered against your lips, “keeping you safe, an’ you thanking me all pretty. So pretty, you’re perfect.”

Placing your hand flat on his chest, you pull away by just an inch, “Thanking you, huh? Is that what you want?”

“‘Just want you to love me. Want you to be mine, just for me. I could— I can give you anything, just ask. We can leave here— and be together—!”

You giggled, “You’re getting too excited, Ser Criston. I’m a princess, you know.”

“There— there are places, my Love,” he let out a shocked huff as you pushed him onto his back, “in Essos, where titles do not matter.”

“Is that so?” You moved up his body before settling on his stomach, which was still covered in tainted armor. “And what would we do there? Build a farm? Have babies?”

“Yes.” A part of him could tell you were only teasing, but it was overshadowed by the part of him yearning for a life with you.

You slowly bent down, your body flush against his, and whispered into his ear, “You want to put a few babies in me?”

Not thinking, he reached up a hand and held the back of your head to keep you in place, “More than a few. They’ll inherit your beauty, my Love.”

“Mmm,” You grabbed his hand and sat back up, “your eyes and my hair?”

“Or the opposite.”

Laughing, you tilted your head back, still gripping his right hand between yours. Your laugh eventually subsided with a happy sigh, and you looked back at him. You had so much power over the big man laying happily beneath you, it was funny. He was staring at you obediently, waiting for you to say or do something. Slowly, you slid the black glove off his fingers and pulled his hand up to your lips. He watched as you placed soft kiss to each of his bruised knuckles. His hand was so large beside your features.

“I’m quite fond of you. What should I do if my father refuses to see reason and executes you for your crimes?” It wouldn’t happen, you both knew. But he was happy to entertain your questions, just so long as you were talking to him and touching him.

“I would only ask that I’d be buried where you can visit. I do not desire to be far from you, even in death.” His hand gripped yours tightly at that.

As morbid as the conversation was getting, Criston had never felt so good. You were truly seeing him in this moment, and you didn’t even mind his sickness. You weren’t afraid, you liked it, even. You liked that he would so easily kill for you and how he’d die for you without issue just as long as you would keep him in death.

You hummed in satisfaction, “You’re giving me very good answers, are you sure you aren’t trying to trick me?”

“I would never deceive you.” He sat up, suddenly serious. His quick movements shook you physically, but you didn’t seem surprised. In order to hold on and keep from falling as you slid back down to his lap, one of your arms wrapped its way around his neck.

You snickered at his reaction, placing a short kiss to his lips, “‘Was only a jest. I know you would never do such a thing. You would never upset me, would you?”

“No.” He whispered, kissing from your lips, down to your jaw softly, “I love you.”

“How much?” You breathed, your eyes fluttering shut.

“More than anything— anyone.” He kept going, sure to reach every bit of open space he could, “You are the very center of my existence, nothing else matters. You’re everything to me. I want you like this forever.”

“Forever? No matter what I do to you?”

His mouth was now below your ear, gently sucking a mark into your skin, “You can do no wrong, my Love, everything you bring me is a gift.”

There were droplets of red still on his face and neck from the blood splatter, but you didn’t mind. Neither of you seemed to care any longer about the gore; the way your red dress was now soaked in it from touching his armor.

You still hadn’t yet released his right hand, and he never dared to pull away. Humming from the pleasure, you slowly brought his hand to rest on your thigh. He immediately adjusted himself so that his fingertips were digging into the soft skin, afraid to move otherwise. Very slowly, you began to rock your hips against him. You could hear his already intense breathing pick up.

“And if my father decides to marry me off?” You whisper into his neck.

Criston lifts his head, dark obsessive eyes boring into your own, “Then I shall kill whatever Lord he chooses.”

x

- venus

[cdragons]

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

Tagging:

@valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove

[forthechubbies]

Mafia! BTS! x Wife! Chubby Reader

Being Korea's deadliest kingpins made seven men into untouchable demons, yet their little wife is made out of sugar and spice?

Our little Wife . V

Sex Sells.

Strong language; Jimin’s a drunk asshole, fat shaming, Intense name-calling, sexual assault, puking, violence, man-handling, and bondage. I did say spicy

Jimin’s Past. IV

How else would the brothel remain untouched by the ever-growing society we live in today? Hiding in the dense shadows of Busan, The Brothel’s sign ominously blazed in a firey feisty crimson tint. Yes, for tonight, their god has returned as a return to bless their dreams once more.

Jimin.

Feeling numb through the high alcohol consumption, He smiled for the first time tonight. At what? Himself. He felt foolish for falling hard for a slut like you.

He snickered.

Jimin detests the persistent feeling of worrying about you. Unbelievable, Right? Not really, The sweetness of your warm squishy skin ghosted over his cold limbs due to the building's poor condition.

Autumn’s chill rattled the windows. You love autumn; He fell in love with you genuinely in the autumn-That day, the temperature played in his favor causing you to cuddle up to him as the orangish leaves crunch under their shoes. A plain walk through the park to the outsider but to Jimin, it was pure bliss.

Now, Look at him, Miserable, Heartbroken, ... Bitter.

May how far Jimin has fallen.

Bringing the pint glass to his puffy pink lips tilting his all the back to realize it's bonedry.

Jimin scoffed. “Tapped out.” sitting the glass bottoms up, He gently slides the glass to his collection on his table. “ Three.Four?....Eight! Come on, baby!... 13!-Damn..” His excitement died down at coming to realize a minor yet annoying error.

“That's an odd number...I wouldn't say I like odd numbers...I w-will have just one more.”

Jimin rushed to the stairs leaving in nothing short of pajama pants and its matching top open for the world to see...He forgot to button up after taking his shower.

Freezing mid-sip, Jimin focused solely on you- your shy and flushed expression made his eyebrow twitch-

“ You are by far the prettiest woman I have sight ever.” She leaned in. “You should work here. You would make a gold mine.” She laughed at your bewildered innocence. “ Yep, Korean men secretly worship chubby women like you. There's this young pervert who always comes in asking our chubby girls to sit on his face.”

Your mind is anywhere except on earth. How did your night end up like this? You should be at home in a hot bubble bath melting away the stress of today. Instead, your god knows where with women who have a one-track mind.

Fuck.

Jimin crept several steps over towards you. You looked healthy and as plump as a peach. He found it humorous how much you looked like an actual businesswoman. Slutty tight skirts and blouses ready to be ripped off, and those high heels that would look perfect in two places, and neither of them is walking, at least not straight.

Jimin clicked his tongue. Calm down. Calm down. It's probably what she fucking wants..She’s just an attention whore. Old habits die hard, they say.

The feeling of unknown eyes tracing your figure made you squirm in discomfort.

Ping

Whether it was your desperate need to excuse yourself or your phone pinging off the hook; had Jimin seeing red. Who the hell were you so eager to run off to? Sure as hell wasn't any of your husbands!?

Then who?! Who!

A face full of boiling rage fueled by a dangerously drunken state was a recipe for disaster. Jimin slammed his pint on the bar shattering the glass entirely; he followed you out front and was hot on your heels.

“Yah!” His voice boomed through the quiet red, lit streets.

Startled, You spun on your heels, and the shock of seeing Jimin made the blood in your veins run cold. “J-Jiminie?” You shuddered at his death glare.

Jimin scoffed, tucking any blonde stragglers behind his ears. “ You don't get to call me that after what you did to us!” His chest heaved with sorrow. “You threw away the only people willing to love you forever; what an ungrateful little whore you are. or Are you doing this for attention?” He truly got a kick out of that one.

You stood silent on the brink of tears; He wasn't worth your tears or your time. You turn on your heels only to take two steps before being manhandled by your arm.

“Yah! Don't walk away from me like I'm not fucking talking to you!” Jimin's anger took the physical form of tears. His throat burned so did his nose from the chilly early morning air.

Morning air? Is this correct? 5 am was rapidly approaching, and you had yet to close your eyes to start a new chapter the following day. You want to go home- Your real home; maybe you were stupid for creating this strike. Perhaps you should go back home.

“Your right, Jimin.” Your tears fall onto your ivory blouse. “I'm sorry for being selfish.”

Jimin froze. “No-No, your not getting off that easy. You don't get to get off that easy!” He yanked your skirt, bringing you closer into his arms. “ I want you to take responsibility...You hurt me bad, Chimmy.”

It wasn't until Jimin’s hands started to wander, You recognized the libidinous tone in his voice. He wouldn't dare ravish his own wife, Right?

“Now, Jimine, Let's talk this-”

Jimin shook his head. “There you go, Using that honey voice of yourself. Fuck. You know how to piss me off.” He stole your lips in an instant, biting and pulling at your swollen lips.

Your face pinged at his highly flammable breath. He's drunk. “Jimin-Wa-Wait a min.” You put up a good fight attempting to crease his assault, but even though you're around the same height, his strength trumps yours.

You hissed at the freezing brick wall; Jimin slammed you against- “Jimin! Stop it! This isn't funny!” One of your little hits landed on Jimin’s face.

He froze. You did the same, desperately catching your breath. Jimin’s sweaty blonde locks blocked his eyes; his tongue glazed his irritated lips.

“I can get rough too, Cow.” Jimin lowly chuckled, untying his pajama’s silk belt. “Be a good girl and face the fucking wall!” Jimin spat, gritting his teeth. He yanks you around to face the wall by the roots of your hair.

You gasped in pain.“Ow! Jimin! Please-”

“Please?! Did you just ‘Please’ me?! I hadn't done shit to you yet, and you're already begging.” He groans, taking big steps forward to sandwich you between him and the wall. "Since you're so eager - I guess I should at least tease you..but first- "

You squeaked in pain as his brutally bondage your hands behind your back; you could feel the silk cutting off your circulation. "You're a despicable little monster, Park Jimin!” You spat in his eye when he give you a window. " and you always have been."

Your word choice was an additional shot to his manhood and the end result was a harsh smack sending you to the ground. "Pretty bold words for tied-up cattle-” He flashed an eat shit-grin. “-In a woman's clothing.” The cheeky bondage method Jimin displayed is one of his favorites, a technique used for his clients who seek thrill and lore as much as insane pleasure.

Yn’s arms were kept tight behind your back with no wiggle room.

“You talk big but look at you...at my mercy” He looks at you in amusement as he squats beside you. “You're ours, Yn! When you met that demonic bunny, you sealed your fate. You don't even know what a real monster he can be-

Your heart stopped an ink-like figure crept out of the darkness, inching closer. “Jimin! Turn around!” Jimin failed to heed in time, costing him a stone punch to the jaw, followed by the figure’s heavy black boot to his abdomen.

You were expecting Jimin to be in somewhat pain; however, He chuckled, signaling for a timeout between the figure. Lacking, Your extra set of eyes, thanks to Jimin; you couldn't get a good look at him.

“Come on. I barely touch her yet. You can't be that mad.” Jimin swiped the blood caked up in the corners of his mouth. “ Aish, Don't you think you hit me a little too hard-”

The figure remained silent but waited no time to send Jimin to the ground again.

“Ah! Fuck!” He coughed up the dirt in his lungs before finally puking up the ungodly amount of poisonous liquid he had consumed.

Your sniffs and whimpers didn't go unnoticed. You squeeze your eyes shut as its heavy boots stop at your shuddering body. You've managed to set up and have knees to your chest.

The figure had a great view of standing above you like this. You heard his shoes glide on the gravel; Is he gone? Oh please, please, god, please, please. You swallowed your fear and opened your eyes; you quickly learned how much of a mistake you had made.

He rudely had no disregard for your personal space. The tip of his nose grazed yours, and his eyes bored into-

Those big eyes...Jungkook? But his build is different; he's larger than my Kookie...It hasn't been that long, right?

He leaned into your lips to have you reject him. “ What are you crazy?! I'm married!” You extended your leg to his chest to keep him a bay. It worked until the bastard started feeling up your leg; he kissed your ankle.

The touch-starved stranger dragged his gloved hand down your battered stockings and tarnished soft skin. He clicks his tongue, pushing your foot off his chest.

Did he just roll his eyes at me?

He stood up before snatching you up by your silky bonds. “ Eep!” You felt nausea after being treated like a ragdoll for the past hour.

The last thing you heard was Jimin’s voice before blacking out.

...

The warm sunlight overwhelmed your sleepy eyes. Once your eyes adjust to the sunlight, The horror settles in-

You were cleaned, dressed, patched up, and placed in your princess room.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Can you do something of Jake comforting the reader after loosing their grandfather who they were close with? My grandpa passed very suddenly and unexpectedly last night.

Hi. I am so sorry for your loss. I know how that feels and it is a hard thing to accept and work through. I hope you like what I wrote and that it makes you feel a little bit better :)

Words: 965

Get Me Through

You couldn’t understand the horrible timing of your phone ringing and door banging in tune with one another when the sound of both was the absolute last thing you needed. People did not often bother you. With the exception of a select few, no one ever called. Rarely did anyone other than that same small group show up unannounced at your front door. And while you didn’t mind seeing the faces of your friends, today you didn’t need it. You’d already had to turn away one of them, and that should’ve been enough. 

As you made your way into the hall, your head started to pound, and in an effort to force it to cease sooner, you ignored the phone in favor of the knock. The ringing would stop on its own. The knocking, however, seemed to be on a damn mission. Open the door or suffer the consequences of a house full of loud echoing for god knows how long. 

You didn’t have the energy to put on the look of irritation that you felt deep in your core. As it was, you could barely keep your eyes open. So to avoid as much interaction with the intruder as possible, your plan was simple. Open door, curse out knocker, close door, back to bed. But when you pulled back the wooden slab—painted a shade of eggshell blue by the hand of one of those you loved most—you couldn’t find it in you to utter a single word. 

The look on his face was not one you’d ever seen before. It didn’t falter when he took the phone from his ear and clicked the red circle on the screen that ended the ringing pouring from your kitchen. 

“Sweetheart.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eye.

“What am I doing here?” His voice held a pain that almost made you feel guilty. Almost. Perhaps definitely, had your emotions not been solely reserved for something other than the way the man before you was presenting. “Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve been here hours ago.”

“Jake—”

His arms wrapping around you stole the breath from your lungs, shocking you so much it took a few seconds before you could settle into his warmth, acknowledge that you liked it a bit more than you cared to admit, and snake your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Your tears were undoubtedly soaking into his naval academy t-shirt; the one you typically teased him for being too tight around his biceps while secretly admiring the definition it gave to his upper body. But today, you were only thankful that it kept you from dampening his shoulder with salty liquid and snot. 

Through your sniffles, you said, “Rooster called?”

With his nod, his nose brushed along the column of your neck. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

"He said he’d cover for me with Mav. I can be here as long as you want me.”

Forever, you could have muttered. Just stay forever. You knew you would always want him anyway. He might as well have set up camp just as he did in your heart and head. 

"Come on, sweetheart," he said as he lifted his head. His thumbs swiped under your lower lashes to clear the tears collected there. "Let's get some food in you."

—

At some point, you'd melted into one another. 

It took you a moment to push through the initial internal resistance at allowing him to hold you. Something screamed that the closer he was to you, the warmer his touch, the farther away he would eventually be. Completely out of your control, you would lose him. Not unlike how you lost one of the most valuable pieces of the puzzle that was your family. 

You couldn't have that again. You wouldn't be able to handle the absence of another. And even though he was right beside you, clinging to you as you sobbed, whispering sweet words in your ear, you were still terrified he would disappear.

"I know it doesn't feel like it right now," Jake said, his hand rubbing up and down your upper arm as you laid together on your bed. "But—"

"You don't have to say it," you interrupted. Your voice was unfamiliar to your ear; hoarse after hours of weeping. "I know one day it'll be ok. I'm just tired of losing the people who loved me." Your arm subconsciously tightened around his waist, then you released a long exhale. "When my grandfather died, it hit me that I don't have many people who love me without expectations or demands the way he did. I didn't realize how alone it would make me feel."

"Sweetheart, I don't have expectations of you. Nor demands," he said, words slightly muffled from his lips brushing against your temple. "Your grandfather was a great man, but he hasn't been the only one to love you wholeheartedly." His breath heated your skin, which carried all the way down to your toes. A blanket; warm and sweet and safe. Then he whispered, "You won't ever be alone."

You remained silent, unsure of how to handle the depth of his sudden confession. He'd never told you something like that before, but you couldn't fully process it past the light fluttering it bloomed in your stomach. While your heart was sure you felt the same for him, your brain couldn’t spare the effort. For now, you had his comfort, and the solid weight of his body against yours, and his soft touch to keep you grounded. You had what you needed. You had him. And you knew he would help you get through the night, so he could be there for you in the day.

---

A/N: I hope this fic helps anyone who has dealt with something similar feel a little better, too.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792

[kisaamisa]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ™

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; Bully! Katsumi x F! Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ; When a woman meets her middle school bully in a party, things seem to go down a path she didn't expect it to.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; smut, virginity loss, non-con/dub-con, yandere tendencies, delusion, obsession, masturbation, breeding kink, cream pie, bully x victim trope, blood and gore, mentions and scenes of beating up and attacking someone, spitting, threats, smut with a plot, p in v sex, fingering, size kink, undressing w/o consent, public sex, public masturbation, pet names; darling, sweetie, love, and basically a mess! 😝

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ; no i don't condone bullying, if you have been bullied, please contact someone to talk about it. there's no comfort in this because im lazy but if you would like comfort please request.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ; 𝟔,𝟓𝟔𝟔

Katguria Academy for Young Excellences.

A prestigious school in Japan, where only the best of the best could attend. Tuition was always expensive but it was no problem for the kids who went here. The kids that attended were from well respected families such as Samsong, Abbias, Mine, and many more.

In this school resided the adopted son of the man known as Doppo Orochi, God of War, and the daughter of a prestigious company called SVP.

“Guys, look at my new gold medal! I swear, those stupid karate competitions my dad puts me in are wayy too easy!”

November 4th, 2012

The day everything went bad.

It was gloomy day, the clouds covering the sun as rain poured. Most people if not everyone brought an umbrella except you so you were soaked and wet. You sat was near the window in the classroom and you were lost in thought. You had so many tests today and you were hoping one of them got rescheduled to another day. The rain knocked on your window and you finally came back to reality to see your crush, Katsumi Orochi.

You were honestly disappointed to be in love with him, I mean, every girl in the school liked him. It was all girls, loners, popular girls, and even gothic kids. He was the embodiment of perfect. He was good looking, had good grades, was favored by all students and teachers, and even knew how to fight. You were kinda jealous, he had everything. Money, girls, and talent.

You were talented too but not to his extent. You always got what you wanted because of the funds you had from family, you had the best grades in your class, and people liked being in your company. You weren't popular but well known but you had a few close friends to get you through the sixth grade. You were just about to go back to zoning out untill something Katsumi and his friend group said caught your attention.

“Yeah, it's kinda dumb to think that some people couldn't fight at all, its just so easy!”

Well, that was controversial.

You looked his way, your hand on your face with a dead panned expression. You rolled your eyes and muttered a slight ‘stupid’ under your breath before you were interrupted once again by your friend storming towards you.

“Hey [Nameee]! Di- ack, Did you study for the test todayyy?”

Your best friend, Los was in front of you, out of breath. Why the hell would they run here, we aren't even starting class until 8:15. You looked up the clock with your eyes. It read 8:12. Three minutes left, no need to run.

“Well? Did you?”

“Obviously, did you?”

“Of course! I just wanted to make sure my best friend won't fail the next test! We both need to make it in good high schools, y'know?”

All of the boys who were previously talking to each other decided to whisper amongst each other after Los's comment on succeeding in life. After the whispering came snickers.

You ignored their stupid laughs and decided to prepare yourself for the first test of the day, Language Arts.

“Uh, [Name]? Um, you might wanna stop preparing yourself. Karateka is approaching us, like right now. At a fast speed, well not really but he's coming.”

Your best friend kept urging you to look forward and your were so tired of them bugging you so once they stopped talking and only huffs of breathe came out of them, you looked forward to see Katsumi's face right in front of yours.

A loud scream erupted from you so suddenly every single person in the rom or outside of it jumped at the sound of it. You fell over in your chair trying to get away from the guy you considered your crush.

“OH MY GOSH.”

You were scared out of your mind while your crush and his friend group just laughed loudly.

“Hahaha, Dear God, you should've seen your face! You looked like a pufferfish when startled, damn, you could be a comedian with this stuff!”

You slowly got up with a glare on your face. You made sure to shake off any dust on your skirt or cardigan. You picked up your stuff that fell off because of your stupid fall and sat down.

“That wasn't funny Katsumi. That actually hurt.”

“Whatever, boo hoo, you'd never make it in the fighting world.”

“So? I don't even want to fight anyone without a reason so you can respectfully get out of my face.”

“Yeah yeah, suck it up already and hop off me for a sec.”

He rolled his eyes as he walked away from your desk. You started feeling really mad and angered by him but Locs told you it wasn't worth it. You sat back down once the teacher entered the classroom.

“Alright, since everyone is present, we will be commencing our exam now.”

“UGHHHHH! Those test study guides were total scams! I didn't seem half of the question I was expecting to see on the exam. I'm so deadddd…”

Los was trailing behind you as the two of you walked to the lunch room. You both complained about the two unfair exams you just went through because of an inaccurate study guide.

“I know right! I probably got lower than an 80% on the stupid thing!”

As you two entered the luxurious lunch room, you got into line for the lunch lady to serve you both.

“Ooh! Chicken sandwiches, not to bad for a day like this, right?”

“Yeah I guess,”

You couldn't even finish your sentence before you felt a push on your back.

“What the-”

You were about to fall face first unto the floor untill Los caught you just in time.

“Oh Gosh! You okay?”

You somehow managed to shake your head a bit to hard which cracked your neck harshly. You hissed in pain while rubbing your neck in an effort to make it feel better.

“Yeah..Just cracked my neck wayy to hard for my own liking.”

You both laughed it off while you said ‘Thank Goodness for Los’ internally as you looked behind you to see the perpetrator of this heinous act.

“Well hey there, Miss-I-Can’t-Keep-Myself-Off-The-Floor, how are you?”

Katsumi-Fucking-Orochi.

“Dude, what's your problem? I didn't even do anything to you, why are you just randomly picking on me for? What’d I do?”

“Well, you pissed me off this morning so I'm just teaching you a lesson! Simple, really.”

“Not my fault your such a prick, I can't believe there is actual girls who like someone like you.”

What a nice way to out yourself [Name].

“The hell you say? You wanna repeat that for everyone to hear?”

Katsumi walked up to you, practically towering over you. He leaned down to get on your level to try intimidate you. All you did was smirk, if he thought that he would scare you while being a 10 year old, he thought wrong.

You were strong at your age so you didn't mind if you had to fight even though you and Katsumi had a diffrence in height, despite being the same age.

“Sure,”

You took a deep breath and screamed with all your might,

“KATSUMI OROCHI IS A PRICK!”

Every student, teacher, staff member, and anyone who was in the school probably heard the scream. Katsumi stood there with a shocked expression on his face, absolutely baffled that you actually went through with it.

“You b-”

Shortly after your scream, teachers and lunch ladies separated the two of you and sent you both to the Principals office.

You didn't regret it, not one bit.

‘Keep looking at me and I'll beat the shit out of you, stupid Karate Major.’

You and Katsumi had been sitting in Principal's office for about a good 30 minutes and counting while shooting dirty looks at each other to pass the time untill he finally entered. The room was clean and organized but the feeling of dread surrounded the place as he walked in. Not one of you even dared to say a word to each other or to the Principal himself. The scent of paper and rain started to be suffocating.

“So, what happened exactly?”

The Principal tried to break the ice but it wouldn't budge. It seemed if the tension could be cut with a knife, it was just such an uncomfortable room to be in.

After a few minutes of the Principal waiting for a response, Katsumi decided to speak up.

“She called me a prick.”

“Well you pushed me.”

“So? It was by accident.”

“Really? Even though you called me Miss-I-Can’t-Keep-Myself-Off-The-Floor?”

“It was a harmless joke, I don't know why you got so hurt by it.”

You and Katsumi kept going back and forth, spewing insults and starting to raise your volume. That's is until the Principal put your whining to an end.

“That's enough!”

You both went silent as the Principal continued.

“Do you two want me to contact your parents because I will if you two keep provoking me.”

The both of you agreed on something. You couldn't have your parents come here or all hell would let loose. The two of your heads shaked in sync, both signalling the fact of the discomfort at the sound of their parents coming there.

“That's what I perceived. Okay, you two obviously don't get along so I won't waste any more of my time dealing with this. Both of you will a detention on Saturday and you will write apology letters to each other. Understood?”

The sound of his voice and the things he listed made you sick. Apologize, to him? Hell no. You rather die first than apologize to a dick like him. Seemed like Katsumi agreed with you on this one thing and gave you a nasty glare.

But did you have a choice?

“Fine, we'll do it.”

Katsumi’s face seemed like someone just killed his mom. He was furious. You gave him a sign to tell him to shut up so you won't get into more trouble and of course, he obliglied. You decided to speak for the both of you to avoid him protesting.

The following days were absolutely amazing. You kept feeling Katsumi's glare on you and you were dreading the sound of Saturday. You had to tell your mom and dad and of course they were disappointed, they ended up taking away your iPod and Computer so here you were.

Saturday, November 9th

Here you were. In front of the school you went to daily. You were absolutely terrified, you just had a very bad feeling about today, you had a feeling. You tried to tell your mom and dad but they told you that it was punishment and you couldn't escape the ‘consequences of your actions.’

“Love you sweetie! Don't forget, okay?”

You simply waved to your dad who tried to keep everything positive, no matter how negative it might be.

“Love, she's in trouble! We have to be mean and angry!”

Your mom is goofy too but she is wayy more serious than your dad.

“But dear! I just love our little girl, she's such an angel!”

“Ugh, just drive you idiot!”

Your mom and dad were just so lovey dovey, you were kinda glad that they were kissing and making out.

Anyways, on the more important subject at hand, how will you survive the dreading feeling in your stomach?

It didn't matter, you were going to be late, it was already 12:38 and you needed to be there by 12:40.

You quickly rushed inside and got to the library where detention was held.

‘‘What the?’’ you muttered so quietly, you're sure no one heard.

As soon as you walked into the room, you saw Katsumi's whole friend group. They looked at you with the same shit-eating grin that Katsumi had. One of them got up and purposely bumped your shoulder. You looked at him baffled.

Why was Katsumi's whole friend group here? What business did they do?

Whatever, not your problem. You kept walking to an empty seat in the back of the library where a window was. Then came the King.

Katsumi walked in with a duffle bag, he probably just came out of karate practice and came straight here. He looked behind to make sure you were there, which was weird, and once he locked eyes with you, he grinned.

Oh gosh, what are they planning?

The two hours of detention finally went by and you and Katsumi exchanged your apology letters. His glare was deadly and you could tell that everything he wrote wasn't sincere but who cared? You wanted out of here. Like now. Your gut feeling got even worse, it was like you were getting kicked in the stomach.

You were looking really beat up so you asked the teachers who were supervising you to go to the restroom. They told you yes but after going, go downstairs because your parents were already here to pick you up.

You silently agreed and went to the bathroom quickly.

You were inside of the girls bathroom fixing your hair and doing basic toilet things. Of course, as expected, you were the only one there.

That is until you heard Katsumi's voice.

“Knock, knock! Anyone home?”

He intruded anyway, peeking in and telling his friends to follow him.

This wasn't good in any possible way.

“What the hell Katsumi? You guys can't be in here! It's the damn girl's restroom!”

“So? You think I really care about the fact that I can't be in here right now? What I care about,

Katsumi approached you slowly, almost like a snake waiting to bite it's prey.

Is to fucking make your life miserable.”

And with that you were jumped.

“Pleas- ACH!”

You tried to scream out for help but one of the boys holding you down covered your mouth.

“Oh shut up bitch. No one will hear you anyway.”

Tears fell from your eyes, you couldn't see at all. All you could feel was every one of Katsumi's friends beating you up. Kicks, punches, slaps everywhere. One of them kicked you so hard in the stomach to point blood came out of your mouth. They all in unison laughed.

“Guess you won't try and mess with us again right bitch?”

“Hah! If she even tries, she'll be dead!”

They all kicked you and continued to mock you.

“Wah Wah Wah! I want mommy!”

“Hey guys, move out the way. I have something for her.”

Katsumi came from the background, just watching all of this. He stepped up to you while you were now on the floor coughing up blood. You were clutching your stomach and you felt like you were about to die.

“Hey whore! You're done for!”

“Hey Katsumi, try to not kill her, I don't wanna go to juvie!”

“Whatever, whatever. Hey bitch. Look up will you?”

You refused to, keeping your head pointed downward. You couldn't, the pain was excruciating.

“I said to fucking look up.”

His tone got even harsher, you terrified. What could you do? What the hell would happen if you kept disobeying his orders? Well, you were about to find out.

“Fine, I'll force you then. Grab the scissors.”

You froze. Scissors? Was going to stab you? Kill you? Cut you? What the hell was about to happen to you? Oh Gosh. You wished you hadn't talk badly about him that Wednesday. As if one of Katsumi's friends shared a brain with you, he asked the same question you had in your mind.

“Uh Katsumi, I hope you're not planning to hurt her with them?”

“Of course not! I'm just going to cut her clothes.”

Clothes? My clothes? What the hell. Oh God help me, what did I get myself into.

Katsumi bent down to your shriveled figure, shying away from him and his crew.

“Well, you're about to be naked! We might even take pictures!”

He came closer to your face, practically breathing on it.

“So you better make up your fucking mind before I decide to stab you instead.”

‘How the hell was this a 10 year old?’ was the only thought going through your mind.

“Well whore? Speak up!”

All of the boys kept yelling at you to respond to Katsumi's question and you were stuck there. Motionless.

It felt like someone just pushed down a cliff of abyss. You felt like you were falling and the tears came gushing out. You were terrified. Scared. This boy was going to kill you, you didn't know what the hell to do. So many thoughts were running through your mind. Help me. You didn't know what to do, your body shaking rapidly. It was over. And you knew.

“Well, Miss Whore won't respond so I'll just make the decision my self!”

Snip.

Snip.

Snip.

part 1 because this thing is longggg 😝👍

rip [name], she be going thru it..

[garglyswoof]

Fragile Things

ao3 For @kastleexchange Come What May Day 1, "What Could Be" The first thing they say to each other in Daredevil: Born Again. Please note i have no clue what canon is anymore, except (hopefully) in terms of characterization. She knows it can’t last, like it’s a truce the world has temporarily granted, fragile and held together by the most tenuous of things. A house of cards, really, and she eyes it warily, even as Matt’s let down his own guard now that Fisk isn’t around. No one has stepped up to the plate to organize criminal activity on the scale Fisk had managed, his empire ran haphazardly by lesser minds, as lesser threats.

So yes, Matt has let them in more, her and Foggy, now that his nightly excursions seem almost too easy. Not that they don’t leave him bruised and battered, but he seems less afraid of pulling his friends in when there’s not a criminal mastermind behind them, just poor attempts at the throne.

Still, she‘s tense that whole spring, into summer, then the fall, waiting and watching that house of cards. The Jack of Hearts looks a little bit like Foggy, who’d grown a goatee and then shaved it off in favor of just a mustache despite Karen needling him mercilessly for it.

“Karen, I’m going through my eras of TV Hunk. We’re in the Tom Selleck phase, do you know how many women swooned over his mustache? I will not be bound by societal changes.”

“Does Marci like it?”

He glances sidelong at her, pauses then lets out a defeated sigh. “Yes, or you know it would be gone in 30 seconds.”

“Ok I’ll work on her. Every time you come into the office I picture you sliding across the hood of a 70s muscle car like you’re in Magnum P.I. and I can’t take you seriously.”

“Reminds me of that time when Fr--” Foggy stops himself, but she knows.

“Yeah,” she says softly, her eyes flicking up to meet his gaze then leave it. “Yeah it does.”

It would be a lie to say she didn’t think about Frank, but Murdock, Nelson and Page had been a good distraction this last year. Setting up the firm, finding a new office in the Kitchen, and just playing serious legal catch-up to the two avocados at law were enough to keep thoughts of him to a dull roar (she’d bought them little namesakes, glass-blown ones with painted-on sunglasses and a mustache, from a stall at one of those weekend art festivals that were always popping up around the city).

Still, at night when she tosses her keys on the side table and the lonely weight of her quiet apartment settles into her bones, she thinks of him. Of how he couldn’t look at her in that damned hospital room, eyes darting, of how he pushed her away with his own stubborn, selfish aims. Yeah. Yeah, she’ll have a lot to say to him, if she could. 

But he’s been gone this past year, or maybe just terrorizing some other part of the country’s criminal organizations. Like she’d thought earlier, New York was missing some of its seedy underbelly these days. It’s why it worked, this house of cards.

It comes crashing down that Thursday night. 

It had been a good day, Matt heading into court in the afternoon, Foggy finally breaking the industrious quiet by announcing he’s always wanted a putting green in his office. 

Somehow that has evolved into a three-hole miniature golf course where the final hole is a ramp to Foggy’s blown-up face from an old political poster with the mouth cut out. Karen’s sides hurt from laughing as the city settles into the dark of evening. 

“Wow, you really suck at this,” Foggy laughs.

“I did not know I needed to practice -” she bursts into giggles -”putting a ball - oh god - p-putting a ball into your m-mouth”.

Foggy loses it too until a text buzzes both their phones. They both sober up from the laughter, each thinking the same thought as they reach for their mobiles. Matt’s been gone too long.

Sure enough, it’s a text from him, and Karen’s heart sinks from the vagueness of it.

Won’t be able to make it out tonight. You two have fun and see you in the a.m.

She looks up to see Foggy’s expression as he studies the words on the screen like an Ancient Text, the backlight and the now dim light in the office lending him a haggard expression. It's the first time she’s seen it in a year.

“He’ll be okay, Fogs.” She isn’t sure she believes it, but she says it anyway. She doesn’t think he believes it either, but he smiles all the same. She marvels, not for the first time, at how trauma is a form of time travel. Because despite the progress of this past year, her and Foggy both remember Matt, before, and they are right back there again in an instant.

Foggy’s expression almost breaks her heart as he nods and takes an absentminded last putt, the ball rolling up the braille legal book ramp and straight into the picture’s mouth.

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

Karen hasn’t changed a bit, despite all that’s happened, and she knows this is a bad idea but can’t stop herself all the same. She’d said goodbye to Foggy at the office doorway, mumbling something about cleaning up the casserole dish from one of their recent sliding scale (if you could call it that) clients. Foggy had been on the phone with Marci, but had paused - Karen’s heart aching with the kindness of him - for a moment, holding his hand over the speaker.

“You sure?” He'd mouthed before speaking in a whisper. “This isn’t about Matt, right?”

She’d shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t going to lie about that, at least. “Maybe it is, but it’s okay. I just want to have some time to think, and scrubbing cheese off this casserole dish will sadly give me time.”

He’d left then, with one worried glance backwards. She’ll have to keep an eye on her phone tonight, she’s willing to bet he’ll at least text to check in on her. 

It had been the silences from Matt that had scared them the most. She isn’t doing that to Foggy.

Still, she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of her rifling through Matt’s files, her notes, and the Bulletin trying to triangulate where the hell Daredevil is off to tonight. She figures it out when she sees the line in the local crime beat from last week, from a paper she hadn’t yet let herself start reading again until now. 

Ex-FBI Officer Charged with Death of Priest, FBI Officer Escapes From Prison

She drops the paper and scrambles to her desk, pulling out the drawer that holds her purse, shaking, and grabs her gun, her breath ragged in the quiet of the office, the gun almost sucking the light out of the room, matte black. She stares at it for a moment before raising it in both hands, her feet unconsciously shifting apart to ground her. She feels the trigger under her finger, safety still on, she knows, and she presses the trigger once, twice, three times, over and over until her face crumples and she slides to the floor. 

She doesn’t give herself much time to let the pain rule her, she never does. If Bullseye is back, then that’s what Matt is looking into, and she knows he’ll need help despite not wanting it. Not to mention she has a score to settle with that psycho. Her hand shakes as she locks the office up until she stares at her fingers, willing them to calmness.

The church still looms taller than her faith, which isn’t hard to manage, she thinks wryly. The night holds an early fall chill, a breeze off the river teasing the hairs at the nape of her neck where her hair is pulled into a low ponytail. Quiet rules the street with the church lit gently by low exterior lights as she eyes the windows and tries not to think about the past. She’s almost about to give up, thinking that she’s guessed wrong, when she sees the heavy front door shift. A figure darts through, too broad-shouldered to be Matt, she thinks, then the door shuts without a noise and she’s staring into a face lit lowly for just a second before the man ducks into the shadows. 

Frank. She’s frozen there, on the sidewalk, and she knows it’s the stupidest thing for her to do so she darts off the path onto the grass that edges the church’s lot. She’s not sure if he’s seen her, and can’t spot him anymore in the darkness, and she has a moment to think - god how on earth did he just disappear like that? before he’s in front of her, finger to his lips at her impending shriek of surprise, his face familiarly blood-spattered and sporting an almost goofy grin. It doesn’t make sense, any of it, and she stares at him in confusion as he tugs her hands into his, holding her out like he wants to look at her, take stock, that grin lowering like a sail as his eyes grow more intense and how can he be so casual and what is going on and -

“Ma’am,” he says, his tone teasing. 

She relaxes, because there can’t be any danger here if he’s acting like that, but then tensing back up because honestly, what the hell? 

He must see it in her face because he rumbles an apology. ‘M’sorry. Just…seeing you like that, reminded me of…” he trails off, dropping her hands to tug at his hood in mimicry of his beggar routine. That happened forever ago, but he still remembers. So does she. “And you’re still all heart, I don’t even need to ask.” 

Something about the way he says it, almost proprietarily, pisses her off. Her eyes flash in the shadows they’ve found themselves in, pulling deeper in as a car passes and breaks the silence with loud, low bass.  “Yeah, Frank? What clued you in there?” 

She wants him to say it. Doesn’t want to have to spell it out.

His head punches back slightly, taking the blow. He changes the subject, or maybe it’s still the same one. “I came back as soon as I heard. The church’s been clean so far, surprised though. Guy like that usually wants to win where he lost.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Karen admits. “So what’s with the blood?”

He touches his face, as if reminding himself. “Research.” 

She almost laughs. 

“Where’s Red?” He rasps out.

“This was me trying to find him,” she says and watches his face soften out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry, Karen.”

She waits, staring down at where the grass, wet from the day’s watering, sticks to her sneakers.

He clears his throat. “I wasn’t there for you when he came after you the first time. Fuckin' killed me to hear about it. Killed me to know you were hurt and scared and I wasn’t around to help.”

He’s not saying the right things, but they’re still good ones. She smiles a timid smile, glances up and lets him give her what he can. She’s got a year of therapy on one Frank Castle under her belt.  “It’s okay, Frank.”

She knows he wants to say more, say something about the hospital. She pulls him in for a hug, kisses his cheek in a spot bare of blood. Maybe she’s the one that isn’t ready this time. 

“It’s okay.”

She feels his lips on her neck, a brief chapped kiss, before he pulls back and stares into her eyes like he’s trying to solve her mystery.

“I just want to find Matt, Frank. Make sure he’s okay.” 

Maybe he hears it in her voice, the unspoken later, maybe he just senses the urgency.

“Alright then, let’s go.” He grabs her hand again, pulls his hood up with another. She’s so in shock that she doesn’t move until he starts tugging. He looks back at her, casually throws back, “You’re going to do it anyway. At least I can keep an eye on you this way.”

It both pisses her off and makes her smile. Her feelings are never black and white for Frank Castle, but it definitely seems like he’s accepted some things about her, at least. She squeezes his hand that dwarfs her own, callused and warm, and follows him away from the church, into the heart of the city.

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, 3x10-The Winter Carnival Episode-Pt 3

Where have I heard an ever so slight variation of this brilliant pick up line before?

I see he's refining his moves. Adding some tweaks. It takes years of practice to turn into the Super Slutbag MegaWhore he will eventually become.

Oh. She actually believes he was talking about homework-homework and not Strip Homework.

Yes, dear. Upstairs. A place that one typically arrives at after ascending a set of stairs.

Maybe she's catching on. Time to bring back my favorite imaginary narrators, the two sports announcers, one is named Bob and one is named Bill. Take it away, fellas. Bill : Bob, I do believe Miss Gilmore thinks Mr.Mariano actually wants to help her with her calculus homework. Bob: Yet, we both know that Mr Mariano here is only thinking about division and subtraction. Bill: Subtracting clothes? Bob: Indeed Bill. But it's going to take alllllll day to remove all those layers! Can they beat the Cockblock?! Bill: Oh mercy! Here she comes barreling through the door! Will they make it upstairs in time?!

Bob: Looks like there will be no Closet Checkers for Jess and Rory today. Bill: His balls have gotta hurt, Bob. Bob: Neon blue, Bill.

You still can't make up your mind, can you? And yes they were until you came along. You ruin everything, you ruiner. Someone secured a day pass to leave The Bubble and went to the mall to buy ol Richard some junk for his birthday. A bathroom scale, a coin sorter, and a tie. A Happy Walgreens Christmas to all! Rory totally one ups her Mommy by revealing that she purchased a much more thoughtful gift for Grandpa. Take the small wins where you can get em, girl.

Here comes a gift that its parents wished they could return to customer service after its birth.

When have you ever been sorry about jack squat, you withered pine cone?

"I could have been doing HOMEWORK with Jess but now I'm here. I really like homework."

Well, you do live in a town of like, 46 people, so.

Mr "I casually strolled into your mother's kitchen unannounced at night to try and fufill my dreams of awkwardly nailing her for 15 seconds before you could catch us" here talking about how awkward it was to discover Rory was home at her own house.

"Getting coffee with Dean" is just a gateway drug to "Agreeing to talk to Dean alone at night in a dark alleyway" I'm afraid there's little hope for her.

How about Rory sits in a chair and you sit on a railroad spike?

Maybe Rory isn't neuro-different and this is just a defense mechanism to weird Dean out and get him to leave.

Sure, why not.

Well, you do kill women's appetites, buddy. (Except Lorelai's). Dean: You look incredibly uncomfortable. Rory: Oh, it's not you, it's just The Situation.

Yeah, it's never Dean, it's always just The Situation. That's a big word for Dean.

I can't be mad at Dean for aiming somewhere in the middle and trying to do something with his life. College, good for you Dean. I'm in favor of anything that will get him out of Stars Hollow.

Seeing he is a 6'4 blob with no personality and a rotating range of interests that come and go with the breeze, I'd be curious what he wants to major in. I mean, softball, reading, the motorcycle, and building cars have all gone by the wayside already, now it's going to be hockey? Mr McKellan writing to the college: Dear Sir: Get this fucknugget out of my class. He's your problem now. Please take him for the love of god.

Rory reacts with mild surprise upon hearing Dean’s four year college aspirations, especially since she thought he was aiming even lower (the two dirtiest words on Gilmore Girls unless it's Lorelai going there and then it's fine are: "community college") You lay off him! Doubting Dean’s academic and sexual capabilities is my job.

Wow Dean, you got to read a brochure? I heard that Rory once tried to read a Yale brochure and Lorelai grabbed it and threw in the trash while screaming SHES GOING TO HARVARD! It was weird. Also, you can read? R; What happened to community college? D: I changed my mind Rory:

The Gilmore Girlies really seem to have a hard time understanding this concept of "changing one's mind".

And he continues, "And all that talk about "you can do more". Jess would never describe Rory giving him books to read as "pushing all those crazy books on him". Dean makes it sound like "books" are some crazy foriegn concept to him, like not being human tree fungus. And she "pushed them" on him. Did she hold a gun to your head? (I mean, he was acting like she had a gun to his head when she tried to get him enthusiastic about visiting the book fair) And because of "all those crazy books" she forced him to read and her lukewarm "you can do more" encouragement, he's suddenly an Educated Dean now, now he wants to go to a four year college. Oh that Rory Gilmore, she's such a miracle worker. Meanwhile Jess is praying for a Miracle Handjob. Rory describes herself as "The Rain Man" of college application requirements and wants to help Dean apply to college, which is funny to me, because she had only just begun the process of applying to more than one college in the last episode because Lorelai had her in the Harvard Chokehold. Not her fault, but she really shouldn't be giving herself any accolades there. And you shouldn't be offering to help Dean with, like, anything. Let him figure it out on his own. Jesus, Rory.

Said literally nobody ever in the history of time except Rory this one time. Dean wanted to call Rory earlier to tell her about these mediocre dreams of his, but he couldn't, because of you know, The Guy. I'm sorry Dean, you need to make a friend who is NOT Rory and NOT her MILF Mom. Get a gerbil to talk to or something. You mean to tell me you haven't made any friends from all these sports and hobbies that you get involved in for 1-3 episodes? Let's see how Rory throws Jess under the bus to placate Dean! R:You still could have called me. D:I can't get over how weird it is. I go from seeing you every day to not seeing you every day. I got used to talking to you every day. It's a hard thing to let go of. R: (sadly) I know. Me too. D: Can we be friends? R: (perking up) REALLY? I want to! I really want to! D: Don't ask me how I'm going to deal with HIM. I have no idea. R: Okay. D: Let's take this slowly. "Dealing" with Rory's new boyfriend is something you're gonna have to work on, you skunk. Listen to me, you two sneaky dirtbags. You both SUCK. I feel like this conversation is so low down and dirty and disprectful to poor Jess, even though he may not know everything that happens and what is said when he's not around and even though Rory is just placating Dean like she always has. Enough is enough Rory. Grow a fucking spine already.

(As an aside: she’s always so concerned that random townies will notice her business and spread gossip, but she’s not concerned that someone will see her conversing cozily with Dean over custard pies at the bakery and this won’t make it back to Jess?) I do not like how Rory is treating Jess already, and their relationship is only three episodes in. Arghhh. Salty is pissed!

[salmalin]

Final Fantasy XII, Ashe, Vayne, "Us V.S. Them" Mentality, and What Makes a Hero

Something I really love about FF12 is that beyond the whole "free will" plotline that underscores basically every FF game, it actually has something else to say. And it gets pretty specific with it in a way that not many other media I've seen is willing to properly explore: the extremely thin line between hero and villain.

Possibly due to the disaster that was its development, Final Fantasy 12 was able to get extremely specific with its themes and messages, and the rush that occurred when a second team came in to finish for an entirely different team may have allowed for most of this to make it to the final game. It's also ridiculously topical and hits a modern problem on the nose—"Us Vs Them" Mentality, and the oversimplification that follows. This is something that I've only ever seen Terry Pratchett attack so violently.

The villains are not villains. They are people, like us. But more than this, they are only villains because of how they do things. But more than that...

The heroes are not heroes. They are people, like us. But more than this, they are only heroes because of how they do things.

In the eyes of a wider plotline, Vayne might have been the hero if not for his methods. This is made clear from the get-go. He's freeing man from the control of the Occuria, after all. He's fighting God—something you always do in the Final Fantasy games. What's worse, he was raised in a situation where his ruthlessness was not just an asset, but a necessity. He'd disposed of his elder brothers, and endeavored to build a world where Gods and Emperors did not dictate the movement of man—only him. It is, in my humble opinion, a response to excessive trauma from a young age. He is a brilliant character, beloved and loathed for his ability, and he is not arrogant about it.

Meanwhile Ashe is the last remaining descendant of Raithwall and seeks her country's freedom. Her characterization could have ended there and the audience would have been satisfied. Except it didn't.

She was angry. Arrogant. Uptight. She made rude assumptions about the people around her. And then...

Then Ashe decided to use the Nethicite.

And after her declaration, the first person to speak is the lowliest in standing of all in the room—a boy who'd seemed unimportant from the very start, who she'd degraded practically on sight. He'd been the most impacted by the war out of all of them; a boy who has had little to say up until this point besides seemingly shallow statements about theft, independence, and revenge.

"You even know how to use it?"

Vaan's words cut through the moment, changing the vibe instantly before Fran can take the scene. It's a good point, and highlighted a critical flaw in Ashe's thinking until that moment.

She doesn't. In a literal and figurative sense, this is the core of the entire story of Final Fantasy XII—Ashe does not know how to wield Nethicite. Not just as a weapon, but as a weapon.

There is rebellion. There is freedom-fighting. Then...

Then there's mass murder of civilians.

One of these things is not like the other.

But Ashe doesn't even see civilians. She's angry at Archadia as a whole for some reason—likely because they were "complicit" during the war. She sees them as all the same, and doesn't even think of them before suggesting using the uncontrollable Nethicite. She's convinced that her people will never get along with Archadians to the point where it's a plot point. She thinks they all want revenge. And seeing what we have until that point in the story... Yeah, that makes sense.

Until it doesn't. Until Vaan—the "unimportant" character mentioned before, the one who spoke, the main character everyone seems to overlook—actively does what she needs to do before it's even spoken aloud.

He trusts an Archadian.

He makes friends.

He puts aside his rage in favor of cooperation.

And he does this so casually that it's in the background when it happens. Until Basch brings it to her attention, Ashe didn't even notice. She was so fixed in her idea of what her people would want that it never occurred to her that yeah, maybe they do want this... in a moment of rage. A moment that would pass.

A moment that would pass in favor of guilt, horror, and disgust if she used the Nethicite.

We get to see Ashe's bloodthirsty nature before any of her other traits, but for Vayne we are shown he is charismatic, intelligent, and thoughtful.

It is Ashe who is the hero.

It is Ashe who is the hero because she does not fight with blinders on. Instead, she loses those blinders in no small part due to Basch, who points things out to her, and Vaan, who literally shows her the way. Vaan loses his rage first. Vaan moves on first. There's dialog around this a few times, and plot movements as well, and it's made pretty clear that every emotional development Ashe is going through, Vaan is going through directly in front of her and without the support that she had for so long. Vaan and Ashe are so acutely similar that it's almost alarming.

Vaan hates Archadians and then he changes his mind. Vaan hates Archadia until he changes his mind. Vaan hates soldiers until he changes his mind.

Vaan hates until he realizes that hate is a symptom, and to cure the symptom you can't just repeat the circumstances that led to the problem in the first place.

The main characters—the "heroes"—very nearly become the villains of a whole other country until they decide... no. No, we're not going to do this. No, we're not going to use this. Instead, we're just going to get rid of it. We're going to get rid of the chance of anyone using this great power again. This power would end the war in a split second before it could even begin. We've got so much of it, we could rule the world.

And then they don't rule the world. They destroy the ability to rule the world, and take that power out of the puppetmasters' hands.

You don't kill the occuria.

Heck, the only person they really kill is Vayne.

There is no "us".

There is no "them".

There are just people—people like us. And we are just as capable of being those people. One wrong step, and we become the people we hate most in the world.

There is no "us" and "them". You have no way of telling if a person is a monster on the inside. There's no way to look at them and know, or talk to them and know, or work with them and know. Vayne is charming and kind and gentle when he wishes to be, yet we only see Ashe's "undesireable" qualities.

She is the hero.

Ashe is the hero because where Vayne was prepared to burn everything and everyone to the ground for the promise of a day that might not come, she was not. Vayne was a battering ram where they needed a scalpel, and her team—six people with questions and some luck—was that scalpel.

Being a hero is not about being nice. It's not about being able to make connections or read a room. It's not even about how kind you are to others with your words. It's about what power we have, and how we are willing to use it. That is what makes a hero.