#having to grapple with her losses in a world that celebrates them

[habken]

quick little ochako doodles

[talkdutchtome]

Glitch- chapter eight

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

series masterlist . . . available here )

a/n . . . after the trauma i inflicted on you all last time, i thought i'd treat you to a few chapters of fluffy max x y/n content <3 Also this isn’t proofread unfortunately as i just got done with part of my dissertation and if i look at my computer for another second my brain will explode )

Y/N was left stunned, her mind grappling with the weight of Max's unexpected confession. The vulnerable honesty in his words lingered in the air, and she found herself at a loss for a response. What could she say? She had accepted that Max simply didn’t see her like that and that’s why he left so abruptly; the last thing she thought he was going to say was this. 

Max's next words pulled her back to the present moment. "Could you just let me in so we can speak in person?" he requested, his voice carrying a mix of urgency and sincerity. 

Y/N, still processing the revelation, stammered, "What?" 

"I'm outside your flat," Max confessed. "I know this is unexpected, and I'm sorry for just turning up, but I've been mulling it over in my head. When I realized how I felt, I needed to tell you immediately." 

The gravity of the situation settled on Y/N, and she hesitated before responding, “I’m at a bar, with Mas- With the team. They won today and we went out for a few drinks.” 

“Oh okay, I’m sorry I’ll leave.” Y/N could hear the deflation in Max’s voice and her heart sunk a bit. 

“No, give me 15 minutes and I’ll be there” she spoke before quickly hanging up. She didn’t know what exactly to say to Max, but she knew they needed to talk. 

The atmosphere in the bar hummed with celebration as the team and their friends reveled in the victory as Y/N re-entered the bar to inform people that she needed to go. She discreetly approached Mason, her face a mask of determination, and whispered, "I need to go, something came up." 

Mason, concerned, furrowed his brow. "Is everything okay?" 

Y/N offered a quick nod. "Yeah, just something I need to take care of. We can talk about it tomorrow, I promise." 

Mason's eyes searched hers for more answers, but Y/N's resolve was unwavering. "Please, Mason, not now. Tomorrow, I promise," she reiterated, and before he could press further, she pulled away, heading towards the group. 

She interrupted the lively conversation with a brief, "I need to head out, guys. See you tomorrow," leaving the group with confused glances. Mason, however, couldn't shake off his concern. He approached her once more, this time with a more direct plea. "Can we at least talk about what happened today?" 

Y/N met his gaze, a mix of apology and determination in her eyes. "I really have to go now, Mason. We can talk about everything tomorrow. I'm sorry," she said, a heavy weight in her voice. With that, she turned away, leaving Mason standing there, bewildered and frustrated, with their friends watching the scene unfold. 

The night draped itself over the city as Y/N approached her apartment building, the darkness obscuring the details of the world around her. In the dimly lit corner, Max stood waiting. The feeble glow of distant streetlights cast long shadows, rendering their faces almost invisible. Their greeting was muted, a hesitant hug exchanged in the dimly lit vicinity. Neither of them spoke much, the lack of clarity mirrored by the obscured visibility. The shadows seemed to swallow their words, leaving an unspoken tension hanging in the air. 

Inside her apartment, harsh lighting unveiled the details that the darkness had concealed. Y/N's neck bore a series of marks, intricate patterns etched in the aftermath of a passionate encounter. The marks, though unintentional, now became vivid tattoos, stark against her skin. 

As Max began to say something, his eyes fell upon the visible aftermath, and his words caught in his throat. The room, now flooded with the unforgiving light, accentuated the complexities of the situation. Y/N watched as his face dropped, the color draining from his skin. The realization dawned upon him, and an awkward silence settled in the room. The unspoken weight of Mason's presence loomed over them, turning the atmosphere into an uncharted territory where words faltered, and emotions hung heavy in the air. 

She tried to find words to explain, to offer some justification for the marks, but her mind drew a blank. Max, observing the unspoken turmoil in her expression, interrupted her before she could stumble through an explanation. 

"Mason?" His voice was devoid of emotion, dry and almost detached. Y/N, feeling defenseless and without a valid explanation, could only nod in response. In her defense, she had none. She could see the gears turning in Max's mind, trying to process the implications of what he'd just learned. 

She anticipated Max's departure, expecting him to distance himself from the completely fucked situation that he found himself in through no fault of his own. Instead, however, to her surprise, he didn't retreat. Without uttering another word, Max walked over and took a seat on her couch. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, leaving the room in a suspended state of uncertainty. Y/N hesitated, unsure of how to navigate the conversation that loomed before them. 

She hesitantly broke the silence, asking, "Aren’t you leaving?" 

Max, however, countered with a question of his own, delivered in a measured tone that hung in the air. "Should I?" 

Caught in the throes of uncertainty, Y/N admitted, "I don't know." 

Max, still processing the situation, confessed his genuine affection for her. "I really like you," he said, his words heavy with sincerity. "But if there's something between you and Mason, something real, you should tell me now. I don't want to stand in the way." 

The weight of his words lingered in the room, prompting Y/N to examine her own feelings. Yet, as Max continued, laying out the conditions for their potential future, the complexity of the situation deepened. "Unless you can definitively say that you want Mason and not me, then I'm not going to go away." 

He sought clarity, gazing into her eyes with a mixture of curiosity and expectation. "Can you tell me that?" he asked. 

Y/N, entangled in the web of her own emotions, shook her head. She really didn’t know much, but she did know that she felt something for Max. She did feel something for Mason too, maybe she always would; but Max made her feel something she had never felt before, and she couldn’t just ignore that.  

Max looked at Y/N with a sense of urgency in his eyes. "Do you have any holiday saved up?" he asked. 

Y/N, caught off guard, nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, I do." 

Max took a measured breath, his eyes reflecting a sense of determination. "How about this? Come with me to Monaco for a week, and then it’s Silverstone so you can come with me to that. Two weeks, just you and me. And if, by the end of it, you still want Mason, I'll walk away." 

The proposal lingered in the night air, and Y/N felt the gravity of the decision pressing on her. "I... I don't know," she admitted, uncertainty threading through her words. 

Leaning in, Max's eyes bore into hers. "Think about it." 

Silence enveloped them as Y/N contemplated his proposition.  

After a pause, she looked back at him. "I need to talk to Mason, to see if I can get the time off work and also.. Well, I can’t just up and leave for two weeks without an explanation. " she asserted, the resolve in her voice mingling with vulnerability. 

Max nodded, acknowledging the necessity for clarity. "Sure. I can book a hotel room for tonight, and then you can talk to Mason tomorrow. If you decide to go, we can leave after that." 

"Okay," Y/N agreed, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. 

The next day, the weight of anticipation hung in the air as Y/N, accompanied by Max, navigated the familiar path to Mason's house. The drive was a quiet affair, with unspoken tension filling the car. Max, understanding the gravity of the impending conversation, remained in the vehicle as Y/N gathered her courage to face Mason. 

Stepping into Mason's home, memories of shared laughter and easy camaraderie clashed with the somber reality of the impending discussion. Mason, sensing the gravity of the moment, met her gaze with a mix of concern and apprehension. 

"I need a few weeks off, I’m going to Monaco with Max for a little while," Y/N declared, her voice a delicate blend of determination and vulnerability. Her eyes, once filled with an unwavering spark, now reflected the tumultuous emotions swirling within her. 

Mason didn’t know what he expected when Y/N came to his door without any warning, but it wasn’t this. After yesterday, when they had- their moment. How could she just drop this on him, come and tell him that she wanted to go on holiday with someone else.  

“What do you mean? What about us, what about me?” 

Y/N, torn between loyalty and her evolving understanding of self, shook her head. "I need to, I like Max, and I owe it to myself to be able to give it ago. Being around you is confusing and complicated. I just need a break" she uttered; the weight of the decision etched in her expression. 

At her words, she couldn't help but notice the stark change in Mason's expression. His features, once marked by familiarity and warmth, now contorted with a palpable hurt. The lines on his forehead deepened, and his eyes, once a source of comfort, now betrayed a pain he couldn't conceal. It was as if her words had struck a chord, unraveling the threads of their friendship, leaving Mason visibly wounded. 

“Please don’t go, I’m sorry I- Well I was wrong before. I do see you as more than a friend," he admitted, laying bare the depth of his feelings. 

Yet, Y/N, no longer content with half-truths, posed a poignant question that lingered in the air like an unspoken truth. "Would you feel that way if Max never came along?" 

The room fell into a contemplative hush, the unspoken answer lingering like an invisible barrier. Y/N, her heart heavy with the weight of decisions, knew she couldn't settle for uncertainty. "Exactly," she asserted, her voice a mixture of resolve and sorrow. "I don't want to be with someone who only wants me because they don't want somebody else to have me." 

In a reluctant tone, Mason finally agreed, "Alright, Y/N, take as much holiday as you need." As she uttered a sincere "thank you," she turned to leave, only to be halted by Mason's hesitant voice. His words hung in the air, heavy with remorse and an unspoken apology, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I ruined everything, and I don't... Well, I'm just really sorry." The weight of his regret lingered, creating a somber atmosphere as Y/N absorbed his admission before uttering. “Yeah.. Me too.” and walking away from her best friend.  

As Y/N returned to the car where Max patiently waited, her eyes betrayed a lingering sadness that Max couldn't ignore. Concern etched across his face, he gently inquired, "You okay?" She offered a halfhearted nod, confirming Mason granted her the time off. Despite her affirmation, Max sensed something amiss. "You sure?" he pressed, genuine worry in his voice. She shook her head, signaling a preference to keep it to herself. 

The atmosphere remained heavy with unspoken words. The engine roared to life, and they merged onto the road, the rhythmic hum of the tires the only sound between them. Max stole glances at her, concern etched on his face, but respecting her need for silence. 

After a stretch of quietude, Max broke the stillness. "I need to pick someone up at the factory, they need to go back to Monaco too" he mentioned, his eyes focused on the road. Y/N nodded, speaking for the first time in a while “Okay no worries, who?” 

"It's Daniel," Max revealed, the name hanging in the air. At Max’s words, her eyes lit up with genuine excitement. "No way, Daniel, as in Daniel Ricciardo?!?" she exclaimed, the unexpected joy momentarily pushing aside the shadows. Max couldn't help but smile at her animated response, grateful for the chance to divert her thoughts from whatever weighed on her. 

Max chuckled at Y/N's admission, teasingly asking, "A fan of Daniel, huh?" She grinned, nodding, "Yeah, even though I grew up a Mercedes fan, there's always been something about Daniel." Max laughed, "Well, he'll enjoy hearing that. He's been excited to meet you." Y/N blushed at the idea, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Have you told people about me?" Max's demeanor shifted slightly, a bashful smile playing on his lips. He jokingly responded, "Well, when I stopped making up excuses to get out of coming to the factory, they knew something was up." 

The rhythmic hum of the car's engine melded seamlessly with the soft daylight as they continued their journey. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the cityscape passing by—a lively backdrop for the evolving conversation within the car.

Max skillfully guided their dialogue through diverse topics, carefully avoiding any mention of Mason. Despite the apparent ease in their exchanges, a delicate undercurrent of tension lingered—an unspoken presence that painted the atmosphere with a muted complexity. Max, attuned to the subtleties, felt the weight of Mason's words pressing upon Y/N's thoughts. 

As they traversed the city, Max occasionally stole glances at Y/N, his eyes seeking clues within the nuances of her expressions. There was a magnetic pull between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of the uncharted territory they navigated. Max sensed that Mason's remarks had imprinted themselves on Y/N's consciousness, like an indelible mark that begged exploration. 

Yet, Max exercised restraint, choosing not to pry into the depths of Y/N's emotions. Instead, he allowed the daylight to unfold, leaving room for the unspoken to gradually find its voice 

The car pulled up at the designated spot to pick up Daniel, and as he stepped into the car, a vibrant energy accompanied him. Daniel greeted Y/N with a warm smile, his friendly demeanor putting everyone at ease. The introductions flowed naturally, and Daniel couldn't resist a playful comment. 

"So, this is the infamous girl Max can't stop talking about," he teased, shooting a playful glance Max's way. 

Y/N chuckled, feeling a mix of amusement and curiosity about what Max might have shared. As they continued the journey to the private jet, the conversation effortlessly ebbed and flowed. Y/N and Daniel discovered common interests and shared laughs, creating an atmosphere of camaraderie that surpassed the typical introductions. The initial awkwardness melted away, leaving room for genuine connections to form. 

Upon reaching the private jet, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the luxurious surroundings. The sleek interior, plush seats, and attentive service were a stark contrast to her usual mode of travel. Her excitement spilled into the conversation. 

"Wow, this is amazing! I've never been on a private jet before. It's like a whole different world up here," she exclaimed, taking in the opulent surroundings. Daniel grinned, his eyes reflecting her enthusiasm. "Get used to it; you're in for a treat. Flying private is a game-changer," he remarked, settling into his seat. 

Amidst the smooth hum of the jet engines, Y/N, engaged in an animated conversation with Daniel, seemed oblivious to Max's watchful eyes. Her laughter was infectious, punctuating the air and drawing everyone into the magnetic orbit of her joy. Max couldn't deny the fascination that swelled within him as he witnessed her seamlessly fitting into his world, connecting effortlessly with one of his closest friends. 

For Max, the allure went beyond the surface. He liked the feeling of introducing Y/N to his realm, of sharing moments and friends with her. Watching her throw her head back in laughter, observing the spark in her eyes, Max found himself entranced by the unique melody she brought to the symphony of his life. 

Meanwhile, Daniel, ever the observer, noted Max's subtle yet profound shift. It was as if he'd discovered a new rhythm in the music of his own existence. Daniel had never seen Max act so reserved, so captivated by someone's presence. 

As the jet touched down in the Monaco, Daniel, having fulfilled his role as the transient third wheel, bade them farewell. Max guided Y/N through the picturesque streets to his apartment, a chic abode that overlooked the azure Mediterranean Sea. 

Max's apartment, perched atop a hill, boasted floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the breathtaking panorama of Monaco's coastline. The decor seamlessly blended modern aesthetics with subtle nods to the city's classic charm. Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the tasteful art pieces adorning the walls and the plush furnishings that invited relaxation. 

On the terrace, Max pointed out the landmarks below—the glittering marina, the famous Casino de Monte-Carlo, and the labyrinthine streets that told tales of luxury and opulence. The breeze played with Y/N's hair as she took in the view, the sun casting a warm glow over the city. 

Inside, Max introduced her to his two cats, Jimmy and Sassy, who surveyed her with a mix of curiosity and indifference. The apartment resonated with a sense of Max's personality—elegant, sophisticated, and a touch playful. 

Leading her to the spare room, Max revealed an unexpected surprise. The room was elegantly decorated, adorned with fresh flowers, creating an inviting and serene ambiance. Y/N, genuinely touched, couldn't help but express her gratitude. Max casually mentioned that he'd arranged for his cleaner to work her magic during their flight. 

As Y/N settled into the room, a wave of fatigue washed over her. She thanked Max once more for the thoughtful gesture and embraced him before retreating to the comfort of the bed. Max assured her that dinner reservations were secured for later, and with a gentle smile, he left her to rest, closing the door softly behind him. The room, now silent, cradled Y/N into a peaceful slumber as the sun dipped below the Monaco horizon. 

Tag list-

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[fanficdelulus]

Renewed

Fate (Gojo x Fem! Reader)

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Violet eyes shrinking in horror once more as Suguru pushed past the heavy double doors of the church. His gaze immediately locked on his best friend. Satoru was sorrowfully carrying Riko's lifeless body towards him, a white sheet draped over her, while white-gown-clad church members smiled and clapped in an unsettling celebration.

"Satoru? Is that you?" Suguru shakily questioned as his longtime friend neared him. "Looks like you saw Shoko," Satoru noted as his gaze lingered behind Suguru in search of you.

"Yeah... I'm fine. (Name) is—" Suguru paused, his voice faltering as his violet eyes clouded over in dismay. His mind flashed back to the moment he was dragging the two of you towards the medical sector in search of Shoko.

"Suguru... we have to help Satoru," you wearily murmured as blood rushed past your lips, and coughs wracked your fragile frame.

"Shoko's doing everything she can to help her," Suguru replied, his voice heavy with sadness as his eyes caught Riko's lifeless hand falling out from underneath the covering.

"I'm the one who messed up," Satoru regretfully remarked, a pitiful sigh escaping his lips. The atmosphere in the room was heavy with grief and despair. Satoru's voice quivered as he made a grim suggestion, his eyes reflecting the pain that weighed down his heart. "Should we kill them all? The way I am right now, I wouldn't feel a thing."

Suguru, ever the voice of reason, shook his head slowly, his expression a mix of sadness and understanding. "No," he began, his voice low and filled with sorrow, "it would be pointless. We, as Jujutsu Sorcerers, must always have a reason."

With a heavy heart, Suguru reached for Riko's lifeless form in Satoru's arms. The two of them were caught in a painful moment of loss and helplessness, the significance of the situation weighing heavily on their souls.

Suguru tried to offer Satoru some consolation. "Go see Shoko," he advised, his voice gentle but laden with sorrow. "She'll help you once she's done with (Name)." The room held a sense of profound grief and despair as they grappled with their losses and the harsh reality of their world.

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Satoru returned to school with a heavy heart. Guilt gnawed at him as he entered the med sector. His gaze fell upon you, and a deep sense of remorse washed over him. You lay in the bed, looking incredibly frail, your face pallid, and red splotches of pain marring your cheeks. Each slow and labored breath you took felt like a dagger in his chest.

His fingers hesitated above your limp hand, the guilt making it hard to bring himself to touch you. Just then, the door to the room creaked open, and Satoru turned to see Shoko entering.

"The blade that pierced through her chest had been tipped with poison," Shoko explained as she walked out of the storage closet, a pack of cigarettes in hand. Her words struck Satoru like a blow to the chest. "I've done all I can for her," she continued, her voice grave. "She's strong, though. I'll patch you up when I come back."

With those words, Shoko turned and exited the room, leaving Satoru alone with you. The weight of his guilt and the uncertainty of your condition hung in the air as he stood by your side.

Satoru was surprised when he arrived at the medical ward as usual, only to find your bed empty. Suguru had been sent on a mission, so he was alone. Shoko approached him, seeming to anticipate his concern.

"Yaga moved her back to her room this morning," Shoko informed him, her tone calm and professional. "Her wounds have completely healed. We're just waiting for her fever to break."

Satoru watched her walk off to the storage room. The news was somewhat of a relief, yet anxiety still gnawed at him, wondering how you were faring in your room. Quickly finding himself in an unexpected position, holding a tray of medical supplies in his arms, as Shoko suggested he go check on you.

"Why me?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, not exactly known for his caregiving skills.

"Because you care about her," Shoko replied matter-of-factly. "She's comfortable with you around. Now go."

Satoru sighed and made his way towards your room. This was not a situation he was accustomed to. But he couldn't deny that he cared about you, perhaps more than he'd care to admit.

Opening your door with a hesitancy he didn't usually experience. Inside, Satoru found you, lying still in your bed. As he got closer, he couldn't help but notice the returning color to your cheeks. The slow, steady rise and fall of your chest was a reassuring sight, and he took a deep breath, feeling a hint of relief.

Moving a chair next to your bed, he took a seat and set the tray of supplies aside, before watching over you. It was an unfamiliar situation for him. He wasn't used to caring for someone in this way. Satoru's usual self-confidence wavered as he sat there, silently willing your fever to break and for you to awaken.

He continued to remain in your room as the minutes stretching into hours. His usually composed exterior concealed the swirl of emotions he felt as he kept a vigilant eye on your peacefully resting form.

In a moment of somber realization, Satoru sat alone in your room, his gaze methodically moving across the minimalistic decor. It was a room void of the usual family photos and mementos, and that absence spoke volumes about the painful truth. His knowledge of the tragic night when Toji Fushiguro had brutally taken your parents' lives and nearly claimed your own had added a heavy layer of understanding to the room's emptiness.

As his piercing aquamarine eyes roamed your room, he couldn't help but marvel at your tenacity. You had faced the man who'd slaughtered your family and tried to take your life a second time. It was a story that gave new meaning to the word "strong."

Satoru found himself contemplating the meaning of strength. Until now, he had often defined it by raw power and cursed techniques, but your story had offered a different perspective. He couldn't help but have newfound respect for those he had once deemed weak. In your courage and resilience, he discovered the true essence of strength – the ability to confront the darkest aspects of life and emerge stronger.

The minimalistic decor of your room, the stark emptiness, seemed to resonate with the profound void that your heart might have felt after losing your family. The room felt almost too quiet, a stillness that mirrored the absence of those you loved. Yet, amidst this emptiness, a childishly decorated picture frame on your nightstand drew Satoru's attention.

As he picked up the frame and gazed at the photo within, a subtle, melancholic smile graced his lips. The picture showed you, your face lit up with pure joy, alongside two other children who were clearly not related by blood. Yet, the bond you shared in the photo was unmistakable. He assumed these must be your siblings despite the lack of any family resemblance.

It was an image of carefree happiness, the three of you captured at a lake, enjoying a beautiful day together. The laughter and pure joy on your faces were infectious. In that single photo, Satoru saw the essence of what you had been fighting for – a world where such moments of happiness and innocence could be preserved.

As Satoru sat by your side, a sudden, painful moan escaped your lips, immediately snapping his full attention back to you. He carefully set the picture frame aside and brought the back of his hand to your forehead, checking your temperature.

His brow furrowed with concern as he noted your fever was still elevated. He reached for the cooling towel that lay nearby and gently placed it on your forehead. He planned to change it shortly when a sharp gasp from you made him pause.

In an instant, his silent prayers were answered. Your eyes sprang open, still dark and hazy with sleep, but it was a sight that filled Satoru with immense relief.

"[Name], you're awake," he whispered, his voice laced with both surprise and happiness.

Concern filled his bright blue eyes as he noticed the panic in yours, and soon it was replaced by pure fear. He was about to ask if you were okay when you suddenly threw your arms around him.

"You're alive, Satoru..." you sobbed as you tightly held onto him, your cries quickly reminding him of the horrifying events that unfolded three days ago.

Satoru's heart skipped a beat at the mix of relief and fear in your actions. His arms slowly encircled you, holding you close. He knew that he had survived Toji's brutal attack, but the pain and trauma from that experience still lingered. In this moment, you were his lifeline, grounding him in the present.

"I'm here," he whispered, his voice trembling with raw emotion, as he gently stroked your back. "I'm alive, and so are you."

Your [e/c] eyes filled with fear, and your heart raced as you anxiously questioned, "Where's Suguru? Did Toji get away?" Your breaths came out in frantic, panicked pants.

Satoru, with a protective instinct, pulled you even closer while you were already sitting in his lap. He held you tightly, his voice a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos. "Suguru's fine," he said with a calm yet comforting tone. "I took care of Toji."

You felt a mix of emotions flooding through you, and your voice trembled as you questioned, "Toji, is he...?" The words trailed off, the unspoken fear still lingering.

Satoru nodded reassuringly, confirming your unspoken fears. "He's gone."

Relief washed over you, and you felt tears of gratitude welling up in your [e/c] eyes. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of emotions, grateful that your friends were safe. In that moment, you clung to Satoru, thankful for his presence and protection, and the world began to regain its balance.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as you became more aware of your position. Flustered and embarrassed, you couldn't help but take note of the way his arms held you securely. Cheeks burning as you glanced down at the situation, realizing you were nestled in the crook of his neck, perched atop his lap.

Lifting your head slowly, you met Satoru's gaze, his aquamarine eyes filled with a mix of emotions. Your cheeks flushed, and you stammered, "I'm so sorry, Satoru, I didn't mean to... I mean, I didn't realize..."

He interrupted with a soft chuckle, "No need to apologize, [Name]. You just woke up, and you were scared. It's completely understandable.” A mix of embarrassment and gratitude washed over you as he continued to hold you in his strong, reassuring arms.

Satoru's thoughts were in turmoil as he held you close, your presence stirring something deep within him. He couldn't quite explain why he felt such a strong connection to you, drawn by an inexplicable warmth that seemed to radiate from your very being. But for now, he kept those feelings to himself, silently relishing the simple pleasure of having you safe in his arms.

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A whole year of intense training had passed, during which you, Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru had dedicated yourselves to honing your jujutsu skills. Under the guidance of the skilled Satoru Gojo, you had not only become proficient but had also developed a deeper understanding of your abilities. Days filled with relentless practice and nights of studying had gone by in a flash, and your progress was evident.

During this year, you had not only grown more powerful but also closer to Satoru. His expert guidance had become a beacon of inspiration for your development. You admired him not only for his incredible powers but also for the warmth he carried around him, a stark contrast to his often cheeky and carefree exterior. Your training sessions often felt more like bonding moments, and you had shared stories, laughter, and even moments of vulnerability.

Satoru's eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint as he stood before you, instructing the three of you to throw the stationary items you held at him, you and Shoko exchanged glances, a mix of excitement and curiosity in your eyes.

With a synchronized motion, you, Shoko, and Suguru hurled your items toward Satoru. What followed was nothing short of spectacular. Each item you threw hit an invisible barrier, stopped in its tracks. Your amazement was undeniable, and an enthusiastic "Wow!" escaped both you and Shoko as you witnessed this incredible display of power.

Satoru couldn't hide his cheeky grin as he revealed his ability to use Limitless nearly constantly. It was an awe-inspiring feat, but Shoko couldn't help but voice her concern. "You're gonna fry your brain like that," she skeptically noted.

Satoru, however, remained carefree and confident as ever. "I can also use my reverse curse technique around the clock, so I’ll always have a fresh brain," he cheekily informed you all.

"Now, [Name], show them what you've been working on," Satoru encouraged as he gestured for you to come forward. With a deep breath, you knelt down, placing your hands on the dry, dusty ground. A tingling sensation surged through your fingers as you channeled your curse energy.

In an instant, the earth beneath you transformed, blooming with fresh and vibrant flowers. Their sweet scent filled the air, intoxicatingly delightful, and Shoko and Suguru couldn't resist the allure of the blossoms. They happily walked among the vibrant petals, brushing them with their hands. Laughter bubbled from their lips as they fell to the ground, rolling in the flower-filled field, their giggles of joy filling the air. It was as if they'd been transported to a dreamlike meadow.

With a gentle smile, you ceased using your technique. The intoxicating haze of the flowers lifted, and Shoko and Suguru gradually returned to their senses. Their dreamy expressions transformed into confusion, and they jointly asked, "What just happened?"

"It's my ability! I can create a field of intoxicating flowers that will distract and, hopefully one day, subdue my opponent," you cheerfully explained, your newfound abilities a testament to your dedication and growth over the past year

Giggling as Shoko hugged you tight, she praised you, "Great job, my little [Name." Her laughter filling the warm summers air as she added, "Apparently, that idiot can actually teach, who would've thought?"

Satoru, annoyed by her playful jab, retorted quickly. The two of you shared a giggle, relishing the camaraderie. After slipping out of Shoko's hold, you made your way toward Suguru.

"Great job, [Name]," Suguru tenderly praised as he gently placed his hand atop your head. You flashed him a warm smile, feeling deeply grateful for the support from your friends.

"I couldn't have done any of this without you guys," you confessed, recognizing the integral role your friends played in your growth as a Jujutsu Sorcerer.

For a split second, you saw longing in Suguru's eyes. Concerned, you asked, "Are you okay, Suguru?" His blank gaze made you worry even more.

"Do you enjoy being a Jujutsu Sorcerer?" Suguru's quiet question hung in the air. His hand moved down, gently caressing your cheek before falling to his side. "Of course I do," you replied, concern evident in your tone as you met his gaze with your [e/c] eyes. "I'm able to learn and grow with all of you while helping those who are within my reach." You wanted to reassure him.

"You've lost weight. I know something's up. Talk to me," you tenderly offered, urging him to share his burdens.

"It's been extra hot out lately. I guess I'm just tired from the heat," Suguru softly answered. A wistful smile pulled at his lips before he turned to make his way back toward the dorms.

Your stomach twisted with knots as you watched him walk away, sensing that something was bothering your friend. Satoru couldn't help but notice the exchange between the two of you. His sharp eyes missed very little, and he had observed the conversation with a knowing look in his aquamarine irises.

As Suguru walked away, Satoru sauntered over to you with his usual swagger. "Something on Suguru's mind?" he inquired, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your ear, tone low and suggestive.

You sighed, your shoulders drooping as you glanced back in Suguru's direction. "I'm not sure. He's been acting strange lately, and I can't help but feel like he's hiding something. He said it's just the heat, but I don't think that's the real issue. Could you talk to him?”

Satoru, with a wry grin, responded, "Oh, don't you worry. I'll have a little chat with him. Suguru's a stubborn guy, but he can't resist the charm of yours truly."

His confidence was almost infectious, and you chuckled at his casual cockiness. "Thanks, Satoru. I appreciate it."

With that, he strolled away, headed in the direction Suguru had gone. You watched him for a moment before heading back towards the dorms, your mind filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.

————————————————

It was your first day alone in the medical sector, Shoko being away on a mission. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on your shoulders as you tried to maintain your composure.

As you prepared the metal table with a heavy heart, the room felt stifling. Shoko had taught you well, but today was a grim test of your abilities. The pale, lifeless figure of Haibara lay before you, a cruel reminder of the unforgiving world of curses.

Nanami, known for his calm and collected demeanor, had slumped into a chair, the loss of his best friend clearly shattering his composure. "Damn it, it was supposed to be a simple grade 2 curse..." his voice trembled with regret and anger. The weight of what had happened hung heavily on him, and you couldn't help but feel a deep sorrow for the man who had always been there to help you.

Suguru, too, bore a heavy heart.This loss had struck at the very core of your group, a stark reminder of the dangerous world you lived in. It was a somber moment, and as you prepared to do everything you could for your fallen comrade, a profound sadness settled over you all.

Your hands moved with a practiced precision as you began your work. As you operated, the memory of your younger brother, his kindness and innocence flashing before your eyes, creating a lump in your throat. You pushed your emotions aside, concentrating on piecing together what remained.

The room felt heavy with grief as you and Suguru worked together, covering Haibara with a white sheet. Suguru taking the initiative to gently suggest to Nanami, "Go get some rest, Nanami. Gojo is taking care of it."

Nanami, still overwhelmed by the loss of his friend, sighed heavily. "Why doesn't Gojo just take care of everything on his own? He's the strongest, after all."

As you washed your hands, you couldn't help but wonder to yourself, "Must he shoulder everything?" You knew Nanami’s words held no malice, but it left you wondering what being the strongest truly entailed in the world of Jujutsu Sorcerers.

————————————————

“After Geto's curse exorcism mission, there was no one left alive in the village. Evidence of Suguru's curse technique and its residuals were found at the scene. These disturbing events have led to him being labeled as a curse user, now facing execution.”

Yaga's grim revelation sent a shiver down your spine. You and Satoru exchanged incredulous glances. "What?" Satoru questioned, his voice filled with disbelief.

Yaga continued, "From the looks of it, his parents' home is also empty, and with the leftover remains we found, it appears he had done the same to them as the villagers." He concluded with a heavy sigh.

Your stomach coiled with dread, as you hurried down the hall and out of the doors, yearning for the solace of fresh air. It was hard to comprehend the shocking revelation about one of your most trusted friends. The information swirled chaotically in your mind, leaving you feeling uneasy, was it really the Suguru you knew who had committed such a heinous act?

The weight of everything that had transpired since your move to Japan suddenly bore down on you as you rushed back to your dorm room; found your running shoes, quickly changed, and headed to one of the parks Suguru had shown you on one of your off days. His words from that day echoing in your mind as you rushed there.

"The next time I come here, I'll have made my decision."

You were nearly out of breath as you raced around the expansive park, tall green trees surrounded you as their leaves blew peacefully in the wind.

"Hey [Name]," Suguru softly greeted as he approached you from behind. Tears welled up in your eyes; your friend looked so different from who you had come to know and love. His usual warm violet eyes were now dark and distant. Tears welled up in your eyes as you questioned him, "Did you really do it?"

The silence hung in the air for a moment before Suguru let out a heavy sigh, "It was me”

His confirmation sent fear coursing through your veins. Suguru had always been the voice of reason, the one who showed kindness even to those who didn't deserve it. You had looked up to him as a pillar of strength and morality, and now, that image was shattered.

“Your own parents? How could you, Suguru?" Your voice quivered, laced with a mix of disbelief and sorrow.

Suguru's eyes, once warm and kind, now seemed cold and distant. "I want to create a world of only Jujutsu Sorcerers. Those who can evolve and awaken their curse energy should survive, and those who can't... they don't belong. My parents couldn't be exceptions if I was going to make this a reality."

Your voice cracked as the painful memories rushed back. "You've seen how cruel and painful it is. I had to witness both my parents get murdered and endure near-fatal injuries to awaken my curse energy. How can you be so heartless, especially to your own parents?"

The park's serene surroundings felt like a surreal backdrop for this heart-wrenching conversation. Suguru's indifference contrasted sharply with the peaceful nature that surrounded you.

"To live in a world without curses... a world of true peace," Suguru began, attempting to rationalize his actions.

But you couldn't accept this justification. "I understand that our lives as Jujutsu Sorcerers are filled with pain and far from fair," you said, your voice steady, "but I've also seen human lives that endure their own forms of cruelty. It's not for us to pass judgment on the innocent. Our existence is simply the luck of the draw."

As your words hung in the air, it was clear that Suguru's path and your beliefs had irrevocably diverged.

"Please don't go," you tearfully pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. But Suguru had already turned his back to you, and he walked away, disappearing into the bustling city streets.

————————————————

Returning to campus as the sun began to set, you were greeted by Satoru as he waited for you by the gate. The two of you walked back toward your dorm in heavy silence, the weight of Suguru's defection pressing on your shoulders like an unbearable load.

Standing by your dorm room door, you turned to face Satoru, your eyes reflecting a storm of emotions. Tears welled up in your [e/c] eyes, and your voice quivered as you made a heartfelt promise. "Satoru, I promise... I'll bear the burdens that I can for you," you confessed, your voice heavy with the weight of the situation and your determination to support him. Tears streamed down your [s/t] cheeks, revealing the depth of your commitment.

Satoru's tender, teasing voice reached your ears. "You're such a crybaby, [Name]," he remarked as he gently wiped the tears from your face, his touch reassuring and affectionate. Then, he enveloped you in his arms, and your body instinctively relaxed into his embrace. In that moment, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you reciprocated by hugging him back, finding comfort in his closeness.

The warmth of your connection, the tears, and the shared pain all formed a powerful bond between you two. It was as though your hearts were intertwined, providing solace and understanding in the face of the overwhelming future that lay ahead.

———————————————-

Hi loves! I hope you enjoyed this chapter,tell me what you think in the comments and thank you for all the love this story has received I’m overwhelmed but all the support!

As always, much love xoxo

ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ

[velocitross]

Okay I think it’s finally time for my

Multi-Fandom Fic Masterlist!

Here you will find all my fics from Baldur’s Gate 3, Star Wars (TCW + TBB), and Dragon Age (2 + Inquisition) ✨ Mostly one shots with multi-chapter fics noted. All multi chapter fics are written to completion and posted weekly.

Plenty of smut here (🔞) but also T romance and gen fics! I love to dig in and explore character, world build, etc.

I am generally open to requests but do prefer writing within ships or characters already represented here! But, feel free to ask 😌

Continue below!

Baldur’s Gate 3

Vigil (durge OC) x Dammon

Imperceptible Progression of the Stars - Vigil finds Dammon outside the tiefling party. (T)

Last Light - Vigil opens up to Dammon about their violent urges. (T)

A Sunrise Worth Seeing - Dammon and Vigil grow closer following Vigil’s triumph at Moonrise Towers. (T)

Oaths Broken & Bonds Reforged - Dammon and Vigil meet each other again in Baldur’s Gate. (G)

In the Clarity of Dawn - Vigil is redeemed. (T)

Epilogue - in a quiet moment at the epilogue party, Vigil expresses how much Dammon means to them. (T)

Always Forever - Dammon knows just how to finally reveal his feelings for Vigil. (E)

Made Yours - Vigil and Dammon celebrate the Elturian holiday of love (E)

Respite - Vigil gives Dammon a full body massage. (E)

From the Dark - With Dammon’s help, Vigil grapples with some long forgotten consequences of the urge. (M)

Rolan x Dammon

Working Steel - Rolan, frustrated by his work, seeks out Dammon for some… stress relief (E)

Up in the Tower - Dammon tries to get Rolan to take care of himself, with limited success. (M)

Within the Storm - Rolan is a mess after losing Cal and Lia to the cultists. Dammon helps. (T)

Nighthawks - Modern AU! Long distance relationship woes. Webcam sex. Cyberpunk 2077 (E)

Infernal Arcana - multi chapter and complete (35k). An interesting project steeped in the infernal brings Dammon and Rolan very close. (E)

Candlelight and Wine - Rolan is grumpy, Dammon cheers him up with a dance. (T)

Dammon x gn!Tav

A Little Light Reading - Dammon thinks about Tav whilst enjoying some spicy reading material (E)

Needful Evenings - Dammon gets caught in the act while once again thinking of Tav. (E)

For Services Rendered - Dammon gets tied up and teased. (E)

Dammon x gn!Reader

Melting Point - you and Dammon share your first night together. (E)

Halsin x gn!Tav

Seed of Oak - It’s breeding season, you get the idea (E)

Isobel x Dame Aylin

Alive Again - Isobel struggles to cope with her resurrection. (T)

Gen fics

Sun Will Set - Halsin helps a dying snake along his journey. (G)

The Ring of a Hammer in the Hells - Dammon is haunted and inspired by his tutelage beneath Carixim. (T)

To Endure - Rolan finds his resolve to endure his abuse at Lorroakan’s hands. (T)

The Exiled - Dammon comforts Silfy over their exile and situation in the grove. (G)

Cat Nap - A cat helps soothe Dammon’s worries over his future in the city. (G)

Star Wars

Captain Rex x gn!reader

Rainy Day Refuge - A perfect rainy morning for cuddling back up with Rex. (T)

Golden Dreams - You dream of a quieter life with Rex. (T)

Midnight Souls - Rex doesn’t know how to dance, so you resolve to teach him. (T)

Heart of the Universe - After a long day, Rex is there for you. (T)

Summer’s King - On vacation with Rex, you (flower) crown him king. (T)

Killing Heat - You, traitor to a guild of listeners and spies, are sent on a covert mission for the republic with Rex. Intrigue, action, slow burn romance. Multi chapter and complete (105k) (E)

Briefings and Reunions - after the events of Killing Heat, you have a secret tryst with Rex. (E)

Rex on the Beach - beach trip with Rex goes exactly the way you imagine. (E)

Yadrinovo’s Rings - Following Rex’s loss and assumed death in battle, Kix finds him on a remote frontier planet. It’s your job to bring him back, but… do you really want to? Angst, domesticity. Multi chapter and complete (45k) (E)

Captain Rex x Riyo Chuchi

Rendezvous - Rex and Riyo find some comfort in one another in an unexpected way. (E)

The Way to Be Together - Rex and Riyo discuss what’s between them and resolve how to go forward. (E)

Gen fics/misc

Concessions - death troopers Pik and Waffle spar, and then, you know, spar. (M)

With Honor - Multi chapter and complete (160k). Post order 66 exploration of Rex’s grief, trauma, and agency. (T pushing M)

Waves - Exploration of grief and “what comes after.” Feat Rex and two OCs from With Honor (T)

Dragon Age

Note!! These fics were written a long time ago, 10 years in some cases. They’re not well formatted, written in first person pov, I was shaky on how to tag, etc. Please show some grace for early 20s xan 🙏

Gen fics only!

How I Saved Weisshaupt and Also the World - 50k, Hawke discovers a cult that lives in the Fade and drives their followers mad. Varric, as always, is there to ride to her rescue. (T)

People Need Stories - Varric helps Hawke cope with the loss of his mother. (T)

They Forget So Easily - Cole struggles to be remembered. (G)

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

“No. No, that cannot be right.”

As the news of her pregnancy sank in, Maera's initial shock gave way to a sense of denial, almost as if she were trying to resist the reality of the situation. Uncertainty clouded her features, and her mind raced with conflicting emotions. The ongoing war cast a dark shadow over her thoughts, and the unsettling prophecies of Helaena added an additional layer of worry.

The specter of death in childbirth loomed large, a heavy concern that intertwined with the complexities of the world around her. In the midst of this emotional whirlwind, Maera found herself grappling with the profound implications of bringing a child into such turbulent times.

The maester maintained his composure and explained, “I am quite certain, Princess. The babe will likely arrive in seven moons.”

Maera, still grappling with the revelation, attempted to find reason. “But what about the bleeding?” she asked, standing up from the bed.

Maester Orwyle reassured her, “Sometimes, when a babe is forming in the womb and nestles into its place, it can cause some bleeding. It is usually nothing to worry about, but I will monitor it closely to ensure your health and the babe’s.”

Despite the Maester's reassurance, Maera found her mind continuing to race with anxious thoughts. As she rose from the examination bed, she couldn't help but pick at the golden and sapphire ring on her left hand, something precious that Aemond had previously gifted her.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Maera took in the image reflected back at her. Her hair, dark brown with the distinctive silver streak, was braided and adorned with a golden headpiece. Widened green eyes stared back, framed by the mourning attire she wore—a black dress with embroidered golden dragons on the collar. She contemplated how her body might change as the pregnancy developed, adding another layer to the uncertainty that had taken hold.

A sobering thought crossed Maera's mind as she processed the news of her pregnancy. While the birth of a new child into House Targaryen would typically be celebrated as a blessing, the recent tragedies weighed heavily on her. The brutal murder of four-year-old Jaehaerys and Helaena's heartbreaking loss had cast a somber pallor over the household. In the wake of such sorrow, Maera couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the right time for the joyous news of a new life to be shared. The timing seemed almost cruel against the backdrop of recent events, adding a layer of complexity to the emotions surrounding the revelation.

Turning to the maester, Maera expressed, "Tomorrow is Jaehaerys' funeral, and news of a new baby would be a massive blow to the Queen. Can I count on your discretion until at least after the funeral?"

The maester nodded understandingly and replied, "You have my word, Princess. However, you should consider informing your husband as soon as possible." Maera nodded in acknowledgment, recognizing the wisdom in involving Aemond before anyone else. The weight of both grief and unexpected joy pressed upon her as she contemplated the delicate balance she needed to maintain during such trying times.

After leaving the Maester's rooms, Maera chose to avoid her own chambers, finding solace in the temporary refuge of denial. Facing Aemond would mean confronting the reality of the pregnancy, a reality she wished to postpone just a little while longer. Instead, she sought out Helaena's chambers, longing for the comfort of her friend's presence. However, her attempt to enter was thwarted by the vigilant guards, denying her access as Helaena was still not accepting visitors. Desperation to see her friend warred with the understanding that Helaena's mind remained deeply troubled, leaving Maera caught between a longing for connection and the harsh reality of the present.

Attempting to seek comfort in another manner, Maera hesitated to face the Grand Sept, haunted by the painful reminders of little Jaehaerys and Helaena's unborn child. Opting for a more intimate space, she made her way to the smaller Royal Sept, situated across the courtyard from the stables. In contrast to the grandeur of the main Sept, this smaller place of worship exuded a humble tranquility. Marble altars dedicated to each of the Seven Gods adorned the space, enveloped in the comforting scent of incense and the flickering glow of numerous candles. Kneeling before a small statue of the Mother, Maera sought solace in prayer as her mind began reeling with troubling and worrying thoughts.

Closing her verdant eyes, Maera pleaded for guidance and mercy as she grappled with the unexpected news. In the sacred silence of the Royal Sept, her thoughts unraveled like fragile threads. The looming prospect and expectation of delivering a son to further the Targaryen legacy, felt like an unspoken demand echoing through the corridors of her thoughts.

Her body, once a vessel of her own, now became a subject of scrutiny, a canvas on which the eyes of the court would fixate and criticise. In the hallowed silence, Maera’s thoughts involuntarily turned to the woman whose memory lingered as both a beacon and a phantom—her mother, Lady Gael. In the solitude of prayer, Maera silently wondered how Lady Gael navigated the complexities of carrying an heir. Her mother had weathered the trials of three pregnancies, the final one claiming her life. The untold tales of Lady Gael's experiences, the joys, and perhaps the fears, now hung in the air like a sacred whisper.

“Maera?” A voice echoed in the sacred space. Turning slowly, she found herself facing her mother-in-law, the Dowager Queen.

Alicent, clad in black mourning attire adorned with deep green detailing, stood before Maera with a demeanor of surprise. Her auburn hair was meticulously pinned atop her head, veiled as if to shield her grief. Brown eyes widened as they met Maera's, forming a silent connection in the quiet expanse of the sept.

As Maera rose from her prayer, the weight of her recent news settled heavily on her shoulders. Without conscious thought, she moved swiftly toward Alicent, her steps a mixture of fear and confusion. Abruptly reaching out, Maera initiated a desperate hug, as if seeking refuge from the storm of emotions within.

In that moment, vulnerability painted across Maera's face, she didn't disclose the cause of her turmoil. Alicent, perceptive to the unspoken distress, responded after a moment with a tender embrace. Though it wasn't the exact solace Maera had yearned for, the warmth of Alicent's arms provided a lifeline through the turbulent sea of emotions that defined the remainder of that challenging day.

After another prayer shared with Alicent and a brief apology for her emotional outburst, Maera resorted to yet another tactic of evasion. Seeking refuge in her father's quarters, she requested to dine with him, a request Lord Jasper willingly granted.

As they sat at the dining table, Maera played with the food on her plate using her fork, her gaze fixed on her father. She abstained from consuming a single mouthful, her mind preoccupied. Lord Jasper, with his distinguished appearance—dark hair and piercing grey-green eyes—engaged in lively discourse about his duties as the Master of Laws. Despite his animated prattle, Maera's attention wavered, consumed by thoughts she struggled to voice.

Observing Maera's distracted demeanor, Lord Jasper tactfully shifted the conversation, taking a mouthful of potatoes before saying, “You know, I have received a number of letters from our House via raven over the last few weeks.”

This piqued Maera’s interest, and she looked up from her plate. “What news do they bring?” she inquired.

Lord Jasper, sensing her need for a lighter topic, smiled and replied, “Well, your eldest brother, Guston, wrote. Seems his new baby girl is thriving. He also mentioned that he is completely wrapped around her little finger.”

A chuckle escaped Maera’s lips. “Really? I thought Guston wanted another son.”

Lord Jasper nodded, sipping his wine. “Indeed, he did. But you know how it goes. Daughters have a way with their fathers when they’re tiny and cute.”

As Lord Jasper shared more family news, Maera sipped chamomile tea from a nearby cup, absorbing the updates. Her father mentioned, "Cedric has been officially invited to the Citadel to train as a Maester."

A bright smile lit up Maera's face. "That's wonderful news, Father. I am sure he'll make us proud."

Lord Jasper nodded, expressing gratitude to the Gods. "Yes, thank the Gods. It is a way for him to honor House Wylde. I had low hopes for him with his quiet nature, but this opportunity is a blessing."

Sensing her father's veiled criticism, Maera cleared her throat, silently conveying her disapproval of bashing her brother. Lord Jasper, understanding the unspoken message, shifted the conversation. Taking a sip of his wine, he continued, "Dermot sent his congratulations for your wedding and expressed concerns about the war with Princess Rhaenyra. He stated if he could offer aid, he would, but I am unsure how he would plan on doing that." Maera nodded, a hint of discomfort crossing her features at the mention of the impending war.

Lord Jasper, picking up on the pause, smoothly transitioned to a more neutral topic, “And it seems our family to be blessed with more weddings very soon.”

“Oh?” Maera replied intriguingly, leaning in, prompting Lord Jasper to reveal further news.

“Gwyn is now betrothed to the younger sister of Lord Edwin of Tarth.” Maera cocked her head, absorbing the information. Lord Jasper elaborated, “It’s a strategic match, further allying Tarth to the Greens cause.”

Nodding in understanding, Maera encouraged him to continue. Lord Jasper revealed, “Luthor has now been matched with Lady Cassandra of House Baratheon. He will soon depart from Rain House to wed her and will remain at Storm’s End during his marriage.”

A smile played on Maera’s lips. “I hope Luthor finds happiness in his match to her,” she remarked, genuinely wishing well for her older brother.

Lord Jasper continued, "Happy or not, Luthor will do his duty, and produce as many heirs as possible."

The mention of heirs rekindled nerves within Maera, a silent reminder of her own pregnancy. Lost in her thoughts, she went quiet, unknowingly prompting her father to share more. Lord Jasper revealed, "Lord Borros still lacks an heir. If Luthor and Lady Cassandra were to produce a boy, the child could be named Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

Maera, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, stood abruptly, the sound of cutlery jingling as she knocked against the wooden table. Lord Jasper, concerned, asked, "Are you well, daughter?"

Claiming to have lost track of time, Maera stated, "I should return to my chambers." With a polite bid for a good night, she departed, the urgency of the impending conversation with Aemond now impossible to ignore. She knew she would have to face the reality of her pregnancy and share the news with her husband, a task that seemed daunting in the wake of the recent emotionally turbulent events.

As Maera stepped into the chamber, the familiar sight transformed into an unsettling tableau. Shadows clung to the edges, rendering corners obscure and accentuating the silence that hung in the air like a heavy veil. The eerie quiet heightened Maera's awareness, each footstep echoing with a gravity that matched the weight of the news she was about to share.

The unlit candles, their wicks whispering traces of smoke, stood as silent witnesses to the unspoken tension within the chamber. It was a stark departure from the usual ambiance, setting the stage for a conversation that promised to alter the very fabric of their shared existence. And yet Maera knew only one reason why the room would be this dark and quiet so early into the night- Aemond was struggling with his lost eye, the throbbing and piercing pain of it being dulled by the darkness and silence.

With the subtle chime of a bell, Maera's maid, Thena, materialized in the quiet chamber, ready to attend to the princess for the evening. The room, shrouded in a solemn atmosphere, seemed to come to life as Thena approached her duties. With practiced hands, the maid delicately removed her golden headpiece and unpinned Maera's hair from its intricate updo. Cascading in a blend of brown and a striking silver streak, the locks tumbled down, framing Maera's face. Next, Thena carefully unlaced Maera's dress, the fabric surrendering and pooling at her feet. Left in her shift after Thena's assistance, Maera dismissed her maid with gratitude.

Alone in the quiet chamber, she approached the four-poster bed, revealing the figure of her silver-haired husband beneath the covers. Aemond lay on his side, the moonlight outlining his toned arms and torso. Silver strands of hair glinted in the dimness, and the brief silhouette of his jaw hinted at his rugged charm. In the darkness, Maera discerned that his eyepatch and the sapphire usually nestled in his eye socket, had been placed in a golden dish on the bedside table.

As Maera removed her shift, she revealed herself entirely, a curvaceous silhouette in the moonlit room. Aemond, a man who favored the intimacy of constant skin-on-skin contact, had an aversion to her wearing clothing during sleep. It brought a sense of vulnerability, to be so bare before one another consistently. Maera knew her husband was not a man of many romantic gestures or poetic words of devotion, yet she knew being able to feel each other brought him great comfort, as it did her.

With a deliberate gentleness, Maera lifted the sheets and slid into bed, ensuring minimal disturbance to Aemond's rest. The weight of the impending revelation about her pregnancy could wait until the morning. As she lay back, head touching the pillow, preparing to close her eyes, she sensed a subtle movement behind her. Maera felt his warm torso press against her back, one arm sliding under her pillow and another snaking around her waist, pulling her closer.

In the hushed tones of sleep coating his voice, Aemond gently spoke to her. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

Consumed by her own thoughts and reluctant to burden him with her news, Maera kept her response brief. “I had duties to attend to, my Prince.”

A hum was Aemond’s only response. Molding his body to hers like a warm cocoon, he offered a silent reassurance. Attuned to her tension, began to run his fingers up and down her bare arm, eliciting subtle goosebumps. Maera, appreciating the comfort, found solace in the rhythmic movement of his fingers and the warmth that encapsulated her.

After a moment, he spoke again, “I assume all is well? After your visit to the Maester?”

Not wanting to disclose the news of her pregnancy just yet, Maera simply replied, “Mm-hmm.” Before Aemond could delve further, she redirected the conversation, asking, “How is your head?”

Aemond, propping himself up on his elbow, allowed the sheet to slide further down his toned torso as he continued the rhythmic motion of running his fingers up and down Maera's bare arm. A subtle smile graced her face, a silent acknowledgment of the comforting touch.

Leaning down, Aemond whispered into her ear with a seductive edge, his warm breath sending a shudder down her spine,“It is better now that you have returned to our bed.” With gentle care, he moved a strand of her brown hair and pressed a light kiss to the delicate shell of her ear.

The Prince’s lips then descended and pressed firmer to just at the start of her neck, a small smile gracing her face at the feeling. Where her neck met her shoulder, Aemond’s kisses became wetter and more urgent, sucking on the skin so it began to to turn a pale shade of purple. Maera revelled in the feeling, her body reacting on its own as she tilted head back against his shoulder to allow him greater access.

She could feel that familiar ache in her core as he nipped and licked at her shoulder, desperate to forget about the news she had been told and wanted to surrender to the pleasure her husband could give her. Maera’s could feel his now hardened cock digging into her backside and experimentally titled and rolled her hips into him, causing a gasp to leave both of their mouths.

Aemond emitted a silent chuckle before the hand on her arm disappeared beneath the sheets, and made its way to her breast, kneading the flesh and pinching the hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation had Maera rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to find some relief, a noticeable slick of arousal starting to form.

She almost scolded Aemond when he removed his hand from her hardened peak, only for it to drift south and press flat against her stomach. A kiss onto Maera’s shoulder turned into another bite, causing her to gasp once again and arch her back into him. Aemond took full advantage of this, grinding against her once more, harder this time, his cock now slipping between her legs.

Her body was aching with desire, so she began to rock back against him, his length gathering her slick as it glided between her folds. A sleepy moan left the Prince’s lips as he slid the hand on her stomach to rest firmly on her hip, grasping at it as he matched her grinding, a rhythm becoming established. The tip of his cock brushed against her sensitive bundle of nerves, a squeak leaving Maera’s lips as a blush began to coat her cheeks.

Seemingly done with torturing her, Maera felt Aemond grab his length and line it up with her now dripping entrance. Once in place, his hand returned to her hip, and with a swift movement, he pushed himself entirely inside her, a low rumble leaving his chest as he did. The stretch she felt from his cock at this angle was incredible, the familiar sensation of pleasure beginning to bloom as she felt every part of his length nudging against her walls.

Aemond pulled out slowly before immediately thrusting back in, filling her to the hilt, the fingers on her hip digging in so harshly that they were sure to leave bruises. Maera could not help but cry out as his cock hit that spongey spot within her over and over again, the sensation causing her to throw her head back against his shoulder, her eyes closed and jaws slack as she completely surrendered to him, as she always did.

The fucking was deep definitely, thanks to his generously sized manhood, but it was not the usual hard fast pace that Maera was used to. It was slow, steady, almost sensual if you could call it that. It was the type of sex that the poets wrote about; to feel completely at one with the other person, to be so in tune with them that your connection goes beyond mere words. It was beautiful, and although not her preferred type of fucking, it just what she needed at this time.

She was snapped back to the moment when she felt Aemond’s hand move from her hip and dip between her thighs as he continued to thrust deeply into her. The Prince’s long, skilled fingers quickly found her pearl, and began swirling gently around it, causing her to cry out as pleasure began to build in the pit of her stomach. The intensity of the feeling grew as Aemond continued his ministrations and Maera rocked desperately against him, chasing her high. She felt his sweat-covered forehead press against her shoulder, the sound of sighs and soft groans leaving his lips filling her with a sense of pride and excitement.

As the coil wound tighter and tighter in her stomach, her hips began to stutter in their movements, causing Aemond to thrust upwards with greater intensity. After hitting the sensitive spot within her once more, the coil finally snapped with her, causing her to cry out in ecstasy as he fucked her through her peak, her own arousal coating her inner thighs, his cock and his skilled fingers that continued to rub against her bundle of nerves.

The Prince found his release shortly after, letting out a low, contented groan as he spilled his seed within her, ropes of hot white liquid painting the inside of her walls. After a moment of basking in the afterglow of sex, their ragged breaths of exhaustion beginning to slow, Maera felt her chin being grasped by Aemond’s thumb and forefinger. He slowly turned her head and captured her lips on a searing his, their mouths moving in tandem and hearts racing as the fuzzy warmth of pleasure encapsulated them both.

When he pulled away from the kiss, Aemond withdrew his cock, a hiss leaving Maera’s lips as she felt him pull out, a mixture of his seed and her own slick now coating the sheet beneath them. Aemond lay on his back and Maera followed suit, lying flat against the mattress as her bare breasts moved up and down as she took some steadying breaths. She turned her head to look at her husband with a soft smile, who also seemed to be recovering from their passionate encounter, a sheen of sweating covering his body.

With a gentle gesture, she lifted her arm and coaxed him toward her. “Come here,” she whispered gently. Aemond, his furrowed brow revealing a hint of confusion, hesitated. Maera spome once more, a sterner yet playful edge to her voice. “Do not make your Princess ask you again.” After a brief pause, Aemond relented, laying his head against her chest and allowing his hand to come up and cup her breast, causing her to giggle.

As she pressed her nose to his silver head, the scent of leather and dragon smoke, formed a sensory tapestry that spoke of familiarity, comfort, and shared history. In this intimate moment, every worry, including the weight of her pregnancy news, seemed to momentarily dissolve. And Maera was able to recognise a profound connection—one that extended beyond the complexities of royalty, duty, and impending challenges. The rare sight of Aemond laying his head on her chest, exposed a side of the prince not known to anyone else. It stirred a deep affection within Maera, an affection she remembered she had for him when they were young.

She marveled at the strength and warmth emanating from him, and the realization of what she felt for Aemond dawned upon her. This marriage was not merely duty, their past, or even just the lust they shared for each other, but a genuine and profound love. Maera was aware that this made her entirely vulnerable to him, but in this moment she did not care.

Tomorrow's concerns—the looming funeral, the war, her pregnancy, the vulnerability of her affections —all faded into insignificance. In the quiet of the present, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of Aemond against her, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath, and the simple joy of holding each other. It was a moment suspended in time, where the weight of the world momentarily lifted, allowing them to find solace as they were both pulled into sleep.

Notes: Fuck me, I find smut so challenging to write. After editing it so much, it’s not even sexy to me anymore 😅 oh well, I hope y’all enjoy it at least 🖤

Tags: @abecerra611 @blue-serendipity @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[fionapplesssss]

The Enduring Echo: A Love Letter to a Lost Friend

There are moments in life that language cannot hold, where words collapse under the weight of grief too immense to fathom. When I learned that my best friend had taken her life, the world itself seemed to shatter around me, leaving only an unbearable silence. It was as if the universe exhaled a mournful sigh, and I stood alone in its echo, grappling with an emptiness that defies explanation.

The memory is fragmented, a blur of disbelief and anguish. I remember feeling the air thicken, becoming unbreathable, as if sorrow itself had swallowed the sky. Her laughter, once so vivid and ringing, now hung like ghostly echoes in the back of my mind, a haunting melody that would never play again. The colors of the world dulled, and I walked through those days in a grayscale haze, searching for any hint of the vibrancy she once shared.

How do you describe the indescribable? How do you articulate the moment when the person you cherished most slipped from this world, carrying with her a piece of your heart? I remember our dreams, our whispered promises of growing up together, like shared threads weaving a future that would now remain forever unfinished. It is the loss of that imagined future that hurts the most—the birthdays never celebrated, the secrets never shared, the comfort of her presence never again to be felt.

Yet even in the abyss of that loss, I find myself clutching to the fragments she left behind. Her smile, the way her eyes lit up at something beautiful, the words of kindness she spoke when I needed them most. And though grief is a deep, unending well, I try to honor her by remembering that light, that hope she once held for us both, even if now it flickers dimly in the hollow spaces where she used to be.

It is a pain that cannot be contained, a wound that may never fully heal. But in the quiet, I sometimes feel her presence, a soft reminder of love unspoken, dreams undying, and the unshed tears of what could have been.

I still hold on to those shattered fragments, clinging to them as a last, desperate effort to heal what was once warm and whole. Now, it’s just like an overflowing bathtub, the water spilling over, constantly reminding me of the loss of my friend.

The pain of losing them is something I can hardly put into words—a kind of ache that rises in the middle of the night. I call out to it, hoping to understand, but all I find is a knife lodged deep in my back. I keep wondering what went wrong—what could I have done? It’s not just pain; it’s a deep, gnawing fear, one that drags me into isolation. I’m scared, terrified of feeling that same devastating loss again. And even when I try to run from it, the embrace of death never fully leaves me. It’s a thought that haunts, reminding me that I’ll never escape it, that the chance to let any kind of friendship grow again feels lost, like a door closed too many times.

[dreamonseems]

The Other Woman Part 2

Erling Haaland X Female Reader

Summary:Reader and Erling have been best friends since they were young. Reader is in love with Erling.

Ok, so I was going to make two parts, but then I thought I wanted to make three parts so I can explain Erling side of the story, so Part 2 is Erlings' thoughts.

I also write these super late at night, and I'm half asleep, so sometimes I don't proofread it as good.

As the evening unfolded, during the birthday celebration, Erling couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was awry. Deep within the recesses of his heart, an unsettling intuition took hold, whispering elusive secrets he yearned to uncover. It had been apparent for some time that a cloud of turmoil loomed over his friendship with Y/N, a tempestuous storm brewing silently beneath their surface interactions. Desperate to bridge the widening chasm between them, Erling had made countless attempts to breach the walls Y/N had erected around her emotions, only to be met with impenetrable silence.

With each passing day, the contours of their once-undying friendship morphed into something unrecognizable, leaving Erling grappling with an unsettling truth. He ached to pinpoint the precise moment when the tides of their connection had irrevocably shifted, but such admission required a vulnerability he was not yet prepared to embrace. Yet, if he were to trace the labyrinthine pathways leading to this inevitable juncture, he couldn't help but acknowledge the indelible mark that Isabel had imprinted upon their shared narrative.

Isabel's arrival had been an ethereal catalyst, forever altering the delicate equilibrium of their bond. Erling's innermost being recoiled at the thought of admitting it, for to do so, would be to confront his own culpability. But the undeniable truth remained interwoven within the fabric of his consciousness—a chilling awareness that their dynamics had begun to metamorphose from the moment Isabel graced their intertwined lives.

In the midst of the lavish festivities, Erling's gaze flickered discreetly towards Y/N, a longing etched upon his features. Her eyes, once vibrant with laughter, now concealed a world of unspoken pain. He yearned to unearth the depths of her anguish to bridge the yawning chasm that threatened to devour their once-untainted connection. Yet, he remained tethered to the fringes of uncertainty, unwilling to confront the inevitable truth that lay dormant within his soul.

As the night wore on, conflicting emotions danced across Erling's countenance. Love and concern mingled with the fear of irreparable loss. With each passing moment, the weight of his unexpressed feelings threatened to suffocate him, a relentless reminder of the delicate tightrope he had treaded for far too long.

Deep within the recesses of Erling's being, a secret of immense weight lurked, its existence shrouded in fear and guarded by layers of apprehension. For an eternity, he had harbored an all-consuming love for Y/N, a love that burned with an intensity known only to the hearts of star-crossed souls. Yet, the sheer terror of unmasking his emotions, his fear, held him captive within the confines of secrecy. He couldn't fathom a world in which their cherished friendship might disintegrate under the weight of his confession.

Day after day, Erling wove an intricate tapestry of deception, dexterously masking the yearning that pulsed through his veins. Each step he took was a calculated maneuver, designed to protect the fragile bond they shared, the bond he held so dear. The prospect of losing Y/N's friendship, of shattering the bond that held their worlds in harmony, was a fate too unbearable to contemplate. So he locked away his feelings, determined to preserve their connection at any cost.

Time passed, and within the labyrinthine corridors of Erling's heart, his love for Y/N grew with an unyielding fervor. As a young teenager, he grappled with the intricacies of his own heart, attempting to decipher the enigmatic language of love.

In a rare moment of courage, Erling decided to lay bare the truth that had taken root within him, to unravel his heart and give it as an offering to Y/N. The day was etched in his mind, a moment of hope and trepidation that unfolded with each passing hour. But as fate would have it, destiny played a cruel hand. Unbeknownst to Erling, the universe conspired to test the boundaries of his resolve.

In the hushed corridors of Y/N home, Erling unwittingly overheard Y/N confiding in a friend, her words a dagger that pierced his heart. The revelation that she viewed him solely as a brother—a confidant untethered by the chains of romantic love—shattered Erling's spirit. Devastation engulfed him, threatening to drown the flame of his love beneath the torrential waves of desire. In that agonizing moment, he made a choice—a choice to bury his love deep within the recesses of his soul, to shield Y/N from the weight of his emotions, and to preserve the precious friendship that had sustained them through the trials of time.

And so, as the seasons unfurled, Erling found solace in the embrace of destiny. The serendipitous arrival of Isabel, a celestial interloper in their intertwined tale, presented him with a semblance of respite—a diversion from the unspoken desires that lay dormant within. In her presence, he discovered solace, a fleeting sanctuary that temporarily eclipsed the depths of his concealed love.

For an ephemeral moment in time, Erling found himself ensnared in the bewitching allure of Isabel. Her radiant beauty, her intellectual prowess, her athletic prowess—she possessed every attribute that society deems desirable in a partner. In her embrace, he experienced fleeting contentment, a respite from the tumultuous emotions that had plagued his heart. He allowed himself to be consumed by the illusion of happiness, surrendering to the allure of a love that appeared within reach. They loomed perfect together, a great match.

Yet, beneath the surface, guilt gnawed at Erling's conscience. He was acutely aware that his connection with Isabel was shrouded in a veil of transience. Though she envisioned a future brimming with shared dreams—cohabitation, marriage, children—he could never summon the same fervor for their envisioned life together. The image of Isabel as his wife, the mother of his children, failed to materialize within his mind. Despite the passing of two years in her company, he remained incapable of envisioning a future in which they were bound as one forever.

Desperation clung to Erling's heart like a persistent specter, urging him to grasp onto the illusion of happiness he had crafted. He yearned to dismiss his love for Y/N to sever the tendrils of affection that tethered him to a realm of unrequited longing. He made valiant attempts to mold his emotions, to will himself into loving Isabel. But try as he might, he could never conjure the the same passion for Isabel. Like the one that resided within him for Y/N. She held the key to his future, the embodiment of the love he craved with an unquenchable thirst.

Yet, despite his internal struggle, Erling persisted in his endeavor to embrace the connection he shared with Isabel. He willed himself to reciprocate her love, to envision a life interwoven with hers. But the truth, raw and unyielding, remained steadfast—his heart belonged to another, to Y/N.

In the depths of his soul, Erling harbored an understanding that the time for farewell was drawing near, that the small bond he had forged with Isabel was approaching its twilight hour. Though he fought against the inevitable with every fiber of his being, he knew that the path he treaded alongside Isabel could not sustain the weight of a future built on half-hearted devotion. The shadows of his unrequited love for Y/N cast a pall over his relationship, eclipsing the light of their shared moments.

Erling's heart, torn asunder, longed for resolution—a resolution that could only be found in the arms of his beloved Y/N. Within her, he glimpsed his future.

In the dimly lit room, Erling found himself ensnared in emotions, his very essence hanging in delicate balance. By his side, Isabel, unaware of the tumultuous tempest brewing within him, observed the ethereal figure of Y/N as she took center stage. With each passing minute, Erling's grip on reality seemed to wane, as if the air itself grew thin and elusive. His breath, once a steady rhythm, now faltered and hitched, as if the weight of unsaid words pressed upon his chest.

As Y/N's gaze met his own, a surge of electricity coursed through Erling's veins, igniting a primal fire within him. His heart, a captive beast, roared with a ferocity that threatened to escape his chest. Fear gripped him tightly, like icy tendrils coiling around his soul. He wondered if others could perceive the intensity of his emotions, if the sound of his thunderous heartbeat echoed in the cavernous void around him.

Y/N's voice, laden with a poignant vulnerability, weaved its way into the of his being. He could not comprehend the meaning behind her tears, the significance of the melancholic melody that filled the air. Questions surged within him, their answers eluding his grasp like wisps of smoke. What did her tears signify? What did the song whisper in its haunting verses? And why, oh why, did her gaze remain locked on him alone?

Amidst the storm raging within him, one truth pierced through the haze of confusion—enough was enough. The time for cowardice had come to an end. Erling's resolve solidified, like molten steel forged in the fires of determination. He could no longer deny the yearning that pulsed within his veins, the fervent desire to break free from the chains that bound him to a love that was merely a shadow of his true desires.

With a trembling heart and newfound determination, Erling knew that he had to release Isabel from the grasp of his half-hearted affections. She deserved more, deserved to be pursued by someone who could love her without doubt. And as for himself, he had to embark on a perilous journey, chasing the elusive future that beckoned him with outstretched arms.

In that moment, amidst the bittersweet emotions, Erling made a silent vow. He would cast aside his fears, discard the cloak of uncertainty, and venture forth into uncharted territory. His path was uncertain, fraught with risks and unforeseen twists, but he knew deep within his soul that it was the only path worth pursuing.

As the final notes of Y/N's song reverberated through the air, echoing the symphony of their intertwined destinies, Erling's gaze met hers once more. And with unspoken words and untamed passion, their eyes locked, silently affirming the mutual understanding that change was imminent, that the threads that bound them to their current reality were fraying. The time had come for Erling to seize his own fate, to pursue the love that danced just beyond his reach, and to chase his future with unwavering determination.

Part 3

[brineffxiv]

Nice place you've got here, shame if some Final Days were to happen to it.

Emet-Selch uninvites me from the group. They are having a Serious Business meeting, you see, and the collar bell I insist on wearing detracts from the atmosphere.

In all seriousness, he's being quite sensible. I am a strange something that has appeared from nowhere and seems to possess a piece of the soul of his good friend, who, from all I've heard, happens to be chaos incarnate. Emet is powerful enough that he's got no reason to fear me, but he knows I'm up to something. And that something will probably be trouble for him. Though, I imagine he expects shenanigans, not the end of the world.

Hermes wants me to stay, he trusts me because Meteion trusts me. And he's afraid he'll lose his composure without a third party present. Oh dear. I wonder what he expects they're going to talk about?

(Psst! Hey, Meteion! You're allowed to sit down, there's extra chairs!)

Ah. It seems I have arrived in the past during the event in which Hermes joined the Convocation as Fandaniel. The previous Fandaniel is stepping down and has nominated his friend to be his successor. The Convocation is giving this nomination due consideration, and Emet-Selch, as someone who does not know Hermes personally, is here to give his impartial assessment.

Hermes claims to be honored to have been nominated, but he is visibly distressed to know the why of it...?

Ah... I thought so. It's a euphemism. I thought I remembered a similar phrase... either from earlier in the game or from one of the stories.

Hythlodaeus' explanation of returning to the star sounds so lovely. Imagining a world where death is planned, and only occurs when you feel you have reached fulfillment. Voluntarily. To see such a choice as a privilege and an honor, a celebration of a life well lived. That truly is beautiful.

Perhaps, "Return to the Star" isn't so much a euphemism as it is... an elaboration? After all, they know what happens when they die, Hythlodaeus can see it himself.

At the same time... I find it difficult to shake the memory of what will happen to them. To everyone. For half their people, Hythlodaeus included, there will be no return to the star. Not for an unfathomably long time. Death will acquire a new meaning.

Again I am impressed by the selflessness and dedication with which the Ascians... no. The Convocation. With which the Convocation treat their duties. And, Emet-Selch at least seems glad for it. I imagine he is a good leader for his people.

I can understand why you're sad, Hermes. The current Fandaniel is a friend and, it sounds like, a former mentor to you. It's alright to be upset, and to mourn.

That said, it's not your place to choose the boundaries of someone else's life. You are seeing only the loss, when it sounds like your friend likely sees death as his reward at the end of a long and fruitful life. You don't get to take that from him, just so that he can provide more.

But I don't know if what you're saying is actually what you're feeling. I wonder if you might be having a problem grappling with the topic of death itself. It seems to be culturally a positive thing, but you clearly have negative feelings regarding it...

Hermes being upset has made Meteion upset, and he asks me to take her outside for a change of scenery.

The bird returns!?!?

Or, since this is the past... the bird debuts??

Meteion says she hasn't seen this bird before. Suspicious! I think this is humorous as opposed to plot relevant, but only time will tell...

Regardless, Meteion wants to show me her power, and is going to demonstrate on the shoebill. But she can't for some reason, so she tries on me instead.

That's neat! It's sort of like how the Echo works to help me understand all languages? I wonder if it's the same principle.

Meteion struggles to speak aloud because of her abilities, it sounds like it's the overabundance of stimuli that she's taking in that causes it? That's fascinating, it is sort-of like a neurodivergence.

Meteion likes me because I have things in common with her? "Us"? With familiars? Or, with her and Hermes? Hmm...

She promises not to use her abilities to read my mind, which is a relief, because OH DEAR there are some things in my head that this sweet little bird shouldn't have to know.

I will totally be your friend, Meteion. You can be my bestie right alongside Zenos....

WHAT!? Hermes, how could you?! Eating good food is one of life's greatest pleasures.

Meteion and I return to the rest of our little group. Hermes has requested time to consider the Convocation's invitation (much to Emet-Selch's displeasure) so we are going to observe him doing his job around Elpis. How fun!

.

.

.

I FOUND THE LESBIANS!!!

[ireoy]

So Boom

In a world where you're born as a devil, angel, or human (maybe other species—still pending...), the hierarchy places angels at the top of the non-human species. They are seen as being perfect, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. An angel's ultimate goal is to become a guardian angel. However, it's an incredibly rigorous and tedious process. You have to prove that you are the perfect candidate, so angels who strive to become guardians usually attend a university that trains them.

Now picture this: an oc (unnamed still) who, from a young age, has always been seen as perfect. Everyone always knew she was destined to be a guardian angel. However, a year before her judgment day, she was involved in a traumatic accident that resulted in several large gashes and scars. These physical imperfections immediately disqualified her from becoming a guardian angel. Now, she has to adjust to life after the accident and is grappling with the loss of something she’s worked her whole life for. She hates her imperfections and, more so, hates herself for everything they’ve taken from her.

On the other side, you have a devil girl in training. Devils are at the bottom of the occult species hierarchy and are looked down upon because they embrace their imperfections, and their uniqueness is applauded and celebrated. Devils are mischievous, and their main goal is to serve Grim and cause havoc in human lives, which results in more deaths and reaped souls for him. However, this devil girl has hated her upbringing and the gory lifestyle that has constantly surrounded her. She’s tried so hard to separate herself from her devilish nature, especially because she’s fallen madly in love with an angel... (yes, that angel).

This is the plot of my new Sims story that I’ve created in my mind.

[affluenzafm]

you know you love me.

Meet JAKE MARTIN, or if you read the Anti Grapevine, TREE HUGGER. He is a 24year old DISPENSARY OWENER, that currently resides in DOWNTOWN BROOKLYN.

He is known around the city for his ARDENT & FLIGHTY demeanor, but they may be hiding something… HE HAD AN AFFAIR WITH ONE OF HIS FATHER’S EMPLOYEES, UNKNOWING THEY WERE MARRIED.

CHARLIE GILLESPIE, CIS MALE, HE/HIM.

Every Martin for the past 4 generations has added buildings to Manhattan’s iconic skyline, and Glenn Martin expected his son to be the next great architect to join and eventually takeover Martin & Martin Architects. However, that was never the life that Jake had imagined for himself. He had never been one to care much for showing off or “making his mark” on the world. He craved a simpler life and that’s exactly what he started for himself three years ago when he opened his first dispensary in St. Mark’s Place. His dad never approved of his deviation from the plan that had been set for him since birth and he mocked Jake several times for dreaming far too small, but the joke is now on him because Jake’s little shop soon turned into two, then ten, and now has locations all across the marijuana friendly cities in the United States. However, it’s still his original location that he considers to be his home away from home and where he spends a majority of his time. He’s always happy to help customers to find exactly what it is that they are looking for, just don’t ask about the backroom unless you have the password.

it's all about who you know.

CLARE EDWARDS, DARCY EDWARDS. surprise step-siblings. As an only child, Jake had always shared a close bond with his dad, especially after losing his mom—just the two of them against the world. Life had its lonely moments, but they navigated them together. Everything changed when his dad returned from a "work trip" with surprising news: he’d met someone special and eloped that same weekend. Suddenly, he found himself with a new stepmother and two step-sisters he never expected. Now, he must grapple with this whirlwind of change, trying to understand his new family dynamics while navigating his own feelings of loss and uncertainty.

KATIE MATLIN. friends with benefits. From the moment they met, the attraction between them was electric—intense and undeniable. She tried to resist it at first, focused on her athletic training and determined not to get distracted. But no matter how hard she fought it, she couldn’t stay away. They’ve been seeing each other ever since, caught in a whirlwind of passion that neither can ignore. Though they haven’t committed to anything exclusive, they find themselves drawn to each other more than anyone else, enjoying the thrill and ease of each other’s company whenever they're together.

MO MASHKOUR. best friend. These best friends are the definition of a "bromance." They've been through it all together—every high and every low, never once wavering in their loyalty. Whether it’s getting through tough times or celebrating victories, they’ve always had each other’s backs. Their bond is unshakable, built on years of looking out for one another, and no matter what life throws at them, they stand strong side by side, always ready to go to bat for each other.

this character is taken.

[finishinglinepress]

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: In The Thaw of Day by Cynthia Good

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/in-the-thaw-of-day-by-cynthia-good/

Good’s #poetry collection chronicles the speaker’s escape from an #abusive #marriage and coming to terms with trauma experienced over the course of a lifetime, and the journey to #recover while finding deep meaning and joy in the smallest things earth offers: …the ocean, sky, dirt and air, and space // between my cells… Believing it’s essential to express what burns inside us, even at the risk of ridicule, the author grapples with big questions including impermanence and why we are here, how the wind off the Seine /crawls under your scarf. The black / and white photo from the museum, / an image of Basquiat between us / tells me Basquiat is dead, / and in this photo, all of us are memory. The collection is bursting with the natural world, filled with whales and wild mushrooms, taking the reader from Paris and Mexico to Los Angeles, Atlanta and the moon. The book looks at #grief following the loss of the poet’s long marriage, the death of her mother, and her father to suicide, while always finding something to be thankful for, even if it’s, the way a leaf / still shudders after the wind.

Cynthia Good is an award-winning author, journalist and former TV news anchor. She has written six books including Vaccinating Your Child, which won the Georgia Author of the Year award. She launched two magazines, Atlanta Woman and the nationally distributed PINK magazine for women in business. Good’s poems have appeared in many acclaimed publications such as Green Hills Literary Lantern, The Penman Review, Awakenings, and Terminus Magazine.

PRAISE FOR In The Thaw of Day by Cynthia Good

An occasion for celebration, Cynthia Good’s lively and enlivening new collection dazzles with lyric precision, emotional control and lucid beauty. Good’s observations about the natural world and the life of the body are delicious with detail and gritty with the wisdom of a life lived deeply and well.

–Deborah Landau, author of Skeletons

Cynthia Good’s poems beautifully and roughly navigate all of life’s travails—grief, love, the body, motherhood, daughterhood. All the while, the speaker in these poems remains steadfast to life and survival. These poems are imagistic, lyrically plain spoken, and wise.

–Victoria Chang, author of The Trees Witness Everything

Cynthia Good’s IN THE THAW OF DAY is a book of such precision. Her close, intimate descriptions of the remembered scent of her father’s cigarettes, or caring for injured snails, or the memory that inheres in a painting is the heart of these poems. One of the poems begins “I wanted to tell you about….” and that spirit really animates this whole collection. Good wants to tell us so many things, so many of them tiny, beautifully ornate, and so many of them about her father, who haunts these poems. Without being too dogmatic, this book moves from the past to the present in a way that leaves the reader in touch with a melancholy and beautiful planet that has room, if only briefly, for everything.

–Matthew Rohrer, author of The Sky Contains the Plans

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry

[denimbex1986]

Death, taxes and grief – perhaps the only universal experiences in this world. “All of Us Strangers” follows Adam, played by Andrew Scott, who is a screenwriter in his mid-40s living in London and has spent the majority of his life coming to terms with the loss of his mother and father, who died in a car crash when he was a preteen. When he visits his childhood home for the first time since the accident, he finds the ghosts of his parents, played by Claire Foy and Jamie Bell, frozen in time as they were before the tragedy.

Adam is given the chance to get to know his parents as an adult and make up for the time that he lost with them. He has a drink with his parents on the first night that he returns to the house in celebration of the impossible situation as they tell him they are proud that he is doing well for himself. At the same time in his life, Adam begins a relationship with Harry, portrayed by Paul Mescal, one of the only other tenants in his apartment building.

Rather than following a linear story, the film has a hazy feel about it that leaves some parts of the timeline up to the viewer’s interpretation. It is almost as if you are experiencing it as a dream rather than in a movie theater. The soft angles, bright colors and creative overhead shots contribute to this feeling. The movie draws on feelings of nostalgia, and, along with the music and costumes used, director Andrew Haigh accomplishes this by using his own childhood home as a prop, using it to shoot Adam’s scenes with his parents.

Scott and Mescal have exciting chemistry, and their characters serve as foils for each other. Adam is reserved and quiet and carries trauma from experiencing the AIDS crisis as a child who was just discovering that he was gay at the time. Harry, on the other hand, is an outgoing, physically affectionate younger man who, despite his unreserved exterior, grapples with feeling like an outsider in his family due to his sexuality. As Adam gets the closure with his parents that he’s been craving for decades, he’s slowly able to open himself up to a real relationship with Harry. And by finally experiencing love in one form, he is able to accept it in another.

While Adam and Harry’s relationship has been the movie’s selling point, the story of familial love takes center stage. The idea of a 46-year-old man reverting to his childhood self when he’s around his parents for the first time in years may sound strange, but the vulnerability and pensiveness that Scott brings to the role sells it and makes scenes, like decorating a Christmas tree with his parents and breaking down while talking to his dad, seem not only appropriate but also necessary.

Adam’s mother and father are parents of a past time. They struggle to make sense of their son’s life but do their best to understand. When Adam tells his mom that he’s gay, she responds negatively, citing the societal discrimination that she assumes he faces and the AIDS crisis that she does not realize is now under control. Adam reassures her that he lives in a more accepting world than the one she knew, but the struggles that still come with being gay are alluded to. This scene may hit home for a lot of queer people; while parents don’t always mean harm, they may respond with the viewpoints they formed when they were young, and I felt a familiar pang in my chest as I watched this scene in the theater. How many of us heard a similar version of Adam’s mom worriedly responding with, “They say it’s a very lonely kind of life,” after he comes out to her?

At its core, “All of Us Strangers” is a testament to love’s ability and will to transcend even death. The heartbreaking beauty of the film will shatter viewers in a strange way that almost feels comforting. It just punched you in the gut, but then gets you an ice pack and tells you to lay down for a bit, leaving the taste of bittersweet catharsis in your mouth.'

[aimeecabo]

The Cure Radio – Aimee Cabo’s Podcast for Survivors and Thrivers

Insightful Conversations with Aimee Cabo: Unraveling the Complexities of Life through Faith and Resilience

This haven of strength and resilience in the sprawling podcast terrain is the brainchild of an extraordinary woman named Aimee Cabo. She has masterfully transformed the power of silence into a tool to magnify the stories of survivors, turning them into thrives. With her unique approach, she has developed a podcast that resonates deeply with listeners and inspires through its unspoken language. Regardless of where you are in life, whether at the peak of success or in the throes of adversity, the podcast offers a sanctuary, a place where one's experiences are acknowledged, voices heard, and wisdom shared. It stands as an enduring testament to the potency of shared narratives and the transformative power of resilience.

In a world where noise often defines our existence, finding strength in silence may seem counterintuitive. However, this podcast effortlessly weaves a tapestry of quiet power, allowing the strength of personal stories to resonate without the need for embellishment. The host, a compassionate and insightful woman, guides her audience through the poignant narratives of survivors who have navigated the tumultuous waters of adversity.

The absence of bombastic elements in this podcast is a deliberate choice, creating an atmosphere of vulnerability and authenticity. Listeners are invited into a space where silence is not a void but a canvas upon which stories are painted with raw honesty. It is in this quietude that survivors find the courage to share their experiences, and, in turn, listeners discover the strength to confront their own challenges.

A Sanctuary for Survivors

The podcast, helmed by the compassionate and insightful Aimee Cabo, serves as a sanctuary for survivors hailing from all corners of life. Individuals who are battling with the aftermath of trauma, grappling with illness, or stricken by loss find solace in the narratives shared on the show. These profound stories reveal the remarkable resilience found in silent strength, a testament to the indomitable human spirit. Cabo, with her gentle yet probing questions, adeptly navigates the complex layers of each narrative, fostering an environment where survivors can unravel their emotions free from judgment, allowing them to express their experiences and emotions openly.

What sets this podcast apart is its commitment to highlighting stories of triumph and resilience, ensuring that every episode is not merely a retelling of pain but a celebration of the human spirit. The absence of sensationalism allows for a deeper connection between the listener and the storyteller, fostering empathy and understanding.

Navigating the Unspoken Language

In a world saturated with noise, silence emerges as a potent and often underutilized tool for genuine connection. Aimee Cabo, the host of this podcast, comprehends this concept profoundly. She values the pauses and breathes within her conversations — moments that may seem quiet but speak volumes about the journey of the survivors she interviews. The unscripted format of her interviews further amplifies this authenticity, turning the podcast into a conduit for the pure, unfiltered emotions of individuals who have bravely overcome adversity.

The beauty of this unspoken language lies in its ability to transcend cultural and linguistic barriers. Whether the listener is halfway across the globe or just next door, the shared human experiences articulated in silence create a profound sense of unity. The host, through her adept use of silence, fosters a global community of support and understanding.

A Catalyst for Personal Growth

The essence of this podcast, curated by Aimee Cabo, extends beyond an anthology of recounted experiences; it serves as an impetus for profound personal evolution. Each narrative, meticulously chosen, has the power to kindle introspective thoughts in the listeners, encouraging them to ruminate on the contours of their own life journey. By harnessing the inherent power found in times of quietude, individuals are urged to face their deepest fears and formidable challenges. This confrontation, rather than inducing panic, instills a rejuvenated sense of bravery and resilience, fostering the courage to overcome and evolve. This is the spirit that Aimee Cabo's podcast aims to ignite in each listener.

The podcast's impact extends beyond the confines of its episodes. Listeners often find solace in the shared experiences, recognizing that they are not alone in their struggles. The absence of explicit advice or directives allows each listener to draw their own conclusions, making the podcast a guide rather than a map, empowering individuals to navigate their unique journeys.

As this podcast continues to carve its unique niche in the podcasting landscape, the future holds promise for even more profound connections and impactful stories. The host remains dedicated to preserving the authenticity of the narratives shared on the platform, ensuring that the unspoken language of silence continues to echo with strength and resilience.

The podcast's success lies not in its grandiosity but in its simplicity. In a world inundated with information and noise, this podcast stands as a testament to the power of subtlety. By harnessing the strength found in silence, the host has created a space where survivors and thrives can find validation, inspiration, and a sense of community.

The podcast, gracefully hosted by Aimee Cabo, is not merely a platform for sharing audio content; it stands as a forceful movement, a subtle uprising that empowers individuals to uncover their inner strength amid the overwhelming silence. Cabo's unrelenting dedication to authenticity, her courage in vulnerability, and her mastery of the unvoiced language of shared human experiences transforms this podcast into a shining tribute to the resilience that can be discovered in the tranquil pauses between uttered words. As the narratives of myriad survivors and individuals who thrive despite adversity continue to unfurl within the comforting hold of silence, the podcast stands strong as a testament to the power of resilience.

[generalfoolish]

Mayhem Times Infinity

Part One: Snapped Back

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader (enemies reluctant co-workers to lovers)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: cw mentions of death, gore, trauma; the snap, violence, comic mischief

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: The newest Avenger grapples with her own acquisition of power, the loss of a dear friend, and the resurrection of a villain in the aftermath of the battle against Thanos.

A/N: Hey babes! Sorry for my absence! My mental health has been bad lol. Also, I rewatched the MCU and have fallen for Loki again. Hang with me for the first few, I'm trying to keep everything nice and canon compliant while I shred the canon. I did a few time jumps in this part that won't happen too much going forward. This is taking place after the Snap, and isn't connected to the new series. I hope you enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Part Two

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in this btw! I didn't want to assume since we've jumped universes :)

2018

You glanced down at the pack in your hands, and flipped it over to study the nutrient label. Your eyes glazed over a little as you zoned out on the facts. After re-reading it a third time, you just chucked it into your basket. You had told yourself you’d be more healthy, but the truth was it just felt like something to do. You were eyeing the chip aisle when you heard the first scream.

It curdled your blood, and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise. You reacted quickly, and raced for the exit. A person in front of you slowed you down, and you realized two things at once. There hadn’t been any gunshots, which was what you had feared was happening. And the other, shattered you, because the man in front of you turned to dust.

You looked to the other shoppers, and more were disappearing. Jars and bottles crashed to the ground, the shattering of glass scoring the sound of screams and sobs of confusion. You pushed through the crowd to get outside, and felt your legs weaken. Before you could comprehend the situation, before you could do anything, the world went black.

~

When you awoke, everything was quiet. What frightened you most, though, was that you were in the woods. You had passed out in front of the store.

You were sure you had died, or were going to die, or turn to dust. But as you examined your hands, you realized you were very much alive. A surge of power coursed through your body, and you saw the ending. A giant purple man, an axe buried in his chest, another man awash in light pushing it in further, and a golden gauntlet snapping.

The vision ripped through your mind, and left agony. All at once, you were burdened with knowledge. Thanos had won. The Avengers had lost.

Those words meant something to you. The Avengers were people with power, and were basically celebrities. They were always in the news. The Avengers facility burned through your mind, and you slammed your eyes shut trying to ease the pain.

You opened them, and gasped. You weren’t outside anymore, you were standing in the Avengers facility.

“Who are you?” The woman raised her gun at you, and you lifted your hands. “How’d you get in?” The woman asked, before you had a chance to answer her first question. You knew her, you thought. The Widow, maybe.

“I’m not really sure. I was just in Washington state, and now I’m here.” You stammered, trying to make sense of it. You were pretty sure the Avengers were located in New York.

“Did you fly here?” The woman asked, her eyebrow raised, and her arm lowering a bit.

“I couldn’t have. I’m not...like you guys. This must be because of the dust? Some people got...dusted, and maybe some got scattered?” You asked, musing out loud.

“No. Thanos snapped half the population. He didn’t scatter anyone.”

“Well, look, I was just shopping, people started disappearing, and now I’m here. I don’t understand. I’m not special.” You told her exasperated. How could you make her understand that you were no one, just a park ranger, not someone who flew around.

"Wait, you just woke up?" The woman asked, lowering her weapon completely.

"Yeah, I must have blacked out when everyone was snapped, and then I woke up in the woods, and then I saw this place. It's like I had to come here."

"Thanos snapped everyone two weeks ago." The woman clarified.

"I...don't know what's going on." You told her, feeling suddenly light headed you sunk into a chair near you.

"You...hungry?" She asked, her voice soft. You shook your head.

"Why do I suddenly know everything about you, Natasha?" You asked, close to tears. Natasha, for her part, hid her surprise.

"I don't know, but I know someone who might."

Now

You stood to the side, Chitauri evaporating all around you, and those close to him huddled around Stark. He was dying. That much was clear. He had given up everything, and you tried not to think about his little girl. Instead you sought out Carol. Hoping she was okay. Hoping that everyone was okay.

You knew that they were. You could feel them, battered and bruised, but very much alive.

"We need a word." You yelped in surprise as Doctor Strange appeared beside you.

"Right now?" You asked, irritated. He was snapped, you had never met, and here he was after the hardest fight of your life demanding your time.

"Yes." He answered briskly. You didn't get much of a choice though, because he flicked his wrist and sent you through a portal.

"Strange, what the he-" You whipped to ask, but you were alone. It took you a second to realize you were in space. And you weren't alone at all.

There were hundreds of people, floating in space, and they were all frozen, except one. You could feel his presence, and despite every fiber of your being telling you to run, you pushed forward.

He was bleeding, but not fatally wounded. He was scared.

He was Loki.

Loki from New York.

You knew this one. You didn't need your powers to help you know who he was. He was a terrorist. He had invaded Earth.

He was Thor's brother. He was supposed to be dead.

But he was alive.

You wrapped your hand around his forearm and blinked. You hadn't wanted to drop down in the wreckage, and accidentally impale yourself or...Loki.

He gasped deeply and cursed. You looked over his body, and saw that he'd live.

"You saved me." He told you flatly. You shrugged. "Who are you?" His eyes were wild.

"Were you snapped? Is that why Strange sent me to you?" You countered. He laughed. You tried to ignore the fact that the chuckle warmed your entire body.

"I don't know what or who that is." You pursed your lips. "In fact," Loki continued, his accent licking delightfully in your ears. "I'm afraid I have no idea who you are either." You let out a short chuckle of your own.

"That's right, you missed quite a bit didn't you?" You murmured, trying to piece it together in a coherent way for him.

"Would you care to catch me up?" He huffed, clearly growing impatient.

"Well, you died, for one. Like really died. Thanos killed you, Thor was pretty messed up over it. And then, the Avengers lost." You paused, knowing you'd just dropped a pretty massive bomb of information on him. He gaped at you, green eyes searching your face for any indication of a lie. When he found none, he swallowed loudly. You winced, knowing exactly how he died. His throat, bruised and bulging, snapped under Thanos' massive hands.

You cursed your powers for showing you, and you averted your gaze away from the man before you. His eyes, void of the bright life staring at you now, burned in your mind. You choked out a sob as you heard the bones of his throat crunching.

Loki raised to his knees and brought a hand up in comfort to your shoulder.

"I'm sure that I should be having this reaction, not you." He mused, the thin joke soothing you.

"Sorry, my...powers. I felt your death." You told him hoarsely, and fought back the burning in your eyes. He tensed beside you.

"Well, I am truly sorry that happened." You lifted your eyes to his, and noted the deeper emotions hidden there.

"I do have good news." You told him, wiping a hand down your face. You weren't really winning at the whole "Welcome back from the dead," thing.

"Do you indeed?"

"It took five years, but we brought everyone back. We beat Thanos, two of them actually." He crossed his arms.

"Thanos planned to rid the Universe of half the population. And he did it. But then you lot brought everyone back?"

"That's the gist of it. What do you remember?'

"Fighting Hela, Asgard destroyed, Thanos attacking, Heimdall dying, and then it goes a bit fuzzy, truthfully." He told you, placing a hand on his chin.

"Thor told us you challenged Thanos alone."

"That sounds incredibly dense."

"He said you sacrificed yourself to try to defeat him. You tried to save the universe."

"I won't be making that mistake again, then." He scoffed, and you pushed his shoulder. "What? Clearly, it was of no use. I died. I wasn't even sure I could...die." His admittance rocked you, but you held back your shock. You couldn't begin to imagine what that would be like, it explained the pomp.

"I'm just not sure why you're alive now at all." You admitted back. He looked like you had slapped him. You reeled. "No, not that I'm not...not that I would want you dead. Just, you died before Thanos had the stones. No one else was brought back from before the snap. Or after, for that matter." He considered your words, and rubbed his chin.

"I should take you to your brother." You voiced quietly, the realization of where you were and with who dawning on you.

"Yes, where are we that we haven't been interrupted?" He asked, standing and looking around. You felt your skin warming and awkwardly laughed. He spun on his heel and glared at you.

"We're in my old apartment. I kept it...for whatever reason, and it's pretty far from the epicenter of Thanos' attack." You mumbled the explanation, and tried to not think of what your life was like when you lived in this space. Or how dead the man before you was the last time you were here.

He ran a hand over his face. And glanced down at himself. He sighed and shrugged one of his shoulders. You looked on as you watched his appearance go from disheveled space man to clearly royalty.

"Nice party trick," you teased and he scowled.

"I was going to offer to clean you up, as well." He bit back.

"Why?" You asked, looking down at your dirty armor. It was torn and burnt. There were slashes across your body, mud caked on with blood, and pieces just straight up gone. You looked utterly disgusting.

Loki eyed you, unsure of what to say, or maybe how to say it. He titled his head and opened his mouth.

"I'm kidding. I just fought Thanos and like twelve million Chitauri, I'm nasty." He huffed a laugh out at you, and you smiled back. He flicked his hand and you gasped as you felt the fibers repair themselves.

"Thanks, bud." He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

"What even are your powers?" He asked, looking suddenly too large for the small space.

"I'll tell you when you're older." You teased, and grabbed his arm. He was about to recoil, but you were faster.

****

The air was thicker here, heavy with smoke and death. The metallic smell of blood hung in the air, despite the loss of the bodies. The smoldering ruins of the avengers building reminded you that you were now homeless.

"Stone! Where the hell did you go?" You looked into the clearing and released a sigh of relief when you saw your team was safe. Your heart dropped, remembering Tony's sacrifice. You didn't know him that well, the time you had spent with the avengers aligned perfectly with his separation from them. You knew everything you had was thanks to him.

Well, almost everything.

"Space." You told Steve plainly. "I had to pick someone up." You nodded to Loki and you heard his sharp intake of breath.

"He's dead. Really dead." Steve deadpanned and Loki laughed.

"I keep hearing that, yet here I am."

"He tricked Thor, then? Again?" Steve asked, ignoring the God of Mischief.

"No, Steve. He really died." You shuddered as you remembered his bloodshot eyes, his broken body slumped on the floor. You felt a hand on your shoulder, and when you lifted your eyes you were surprised that it was Loki, not Cap, offering the comfort. Twice, you realized, twice he had comforted you about his own death.

"Well, Thor'll want to know. I'll see if we can catch him before he goes to New Asgard." You nodded, and watched Cap disappear back into the thick curtain of smoke.

"New Asgard?" You searched Loki’s face, and his happiness was too genuine to dash.

"It's a stretch from the Asgard you knew, but many Asgardians call it home." You told him.

A golden city on fire, Surtur dragging his sword and devastating a beautiful world, and your heart was clutched in ice. It was Asgard, in ruins. You knew it as well as your own home. You looked to Loki, knowing he was thinking of a home he could not return to, and you hoped he was remembering the glittering beauty and not the implosion of the planet.

You shuddered as you watched the battle on Asgard. Ragnarok, you knew it to be. You opened your eyes and found Loki transfixed on your face.

"You keep leaving." He murmured, and you laughed sharply.

"Not by choice, pal. Heavy emotion triggers my powers, and we're all feeling a bit of that today." He looked at you curiously, but didn't speak on it.

As if summoned, Strange floated to you.

"You found him." You rolled your eyes.

"You could have told me...anything!" You exclaimed. "I had no idea what I was going after, Strange. Or that I was even going." He smirked.

"You were the only one who could find him. Now that you're both here, I have to talk to you. It's concerning the Multiverse." You stared at the floating man, his cape billowing behind him, his goatee perfectly shaped, and you searched him. He was blank.

"Multiverse?" Loki asked before you could. Strange shot him a look you couldn't decipher.

"It's complicated. Meet me at the Sanctum Sanctorum in a few hours. We'll go over the details before you leave."

"Leave?" You echoed. Strange gave you that same look and simply teleported himself using his stone. You rolled your eyes.

"That was strange." Loki muttered, and you laughed.

"Doctor Strange." He gave you a curious look, and you laughed more. Today was too much. The world had gained so much back, but you were still reeling from the loss of Nat. You were dumbfounded over Loki. And now Strange was giving you riddles.

You closed your eyes and a scene slammed into you. It was the ship again. Thanos crushing Loki's throat again. Loki falling lifelessly to the floor again.

Your knees gave out, and you hit the debris littered ground hard. You looked up to Loki, who was already reaching to haul you back up. Tears streamed down your face, as pure, unbridled rage racked your body.

"Thor's here," you told him weakly. His eyes widened, and the air surged with electricity.

"BROTHER!" Thor landed hard on the ground beside you, and bellowed in pain.

Another scene burned through you, a betrayal, a knife in Loki, Thor's devastation and mourning.

Fluttering faster than you could process, memories burned into your mind: two children playing, anctics, love, adoration, jealousy, anger, hatred, forgiveness, betrayal, hurt, anger, rage, acceptance, betrayal, forgiveness, love, love, love burning bright in your core and a scream tore through the air.

Only when a pair of hands found themselves on your shoulders did you force your eyes open.

"I am truly sorry, Stone. I did not intend...I did not think…” Thor grasped for words, and you realized dumbly that you were the one screaming. You glanced at Loki and saw concern etched into his sharp features.

“It’s okay, Thor. I just need a minute.” You assured him, taking his hand and standing up. You walked a few steps away and tried to breath through the pain. Often, you wondered if your abilities were more of a curse than a blessing. Especially during times like these.

2019

“I just think we need outside help. I can train you all day, but magic is beyond me.” Nat told you as you grabbed a water bottle from the cooler. You took a deep drink as you contemplated that. Who could help?

“You thinking Thor?” You asked, knowing that he had gone mostly off grid after the snap.

“No, Banner.” She told you, picking at her sleeve. You gave her a small smile, and nodded. You knew their history, it had taken half a bottle of vodka for her to admit there had been anything there at all, and the rest of the bottle for her to admit that it had affected her. Even still, you barely registered anything when she mentioned him. She kept her composure better than anyone.

“Give him a call.” You told her. “He’ll answer you.” You teased, wiggling your eyebrows at her. She scoffed and started towards the main room.

It only took him a few hours to show.

"Me? What do I know about magic? I can barely control the Hulk and that's science. And I know science." Banner had explained as soon as he exited the quinjet.

“You have like ten PhD’s, Bruce.” Nat had scoffed.

“Yeah, and none of them are in magic.”

“It isn’t magic, Banner. It can’t be. It happened after the snap, right? What if it had to do with the stones?” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Maybe. I can run some tests, and we can see what we’re working with?” He offered, and you had taken him up on it. Anyone else who could help had been snapped. Thor was unreachable, and Carol was off-world. She had done what she could, but answers were in short supply everywhere.

“Sorry, kid. All I can tell is that the properties of the stones are influencing you on a molecular level. I just don’t know how. The stones were destroyed, so you should have lost your powers when Thanos destroyed them.”

You had made to comfort him, to tell him you didn’t blame him for not finding anything out, when you were overcome with a feeling of failure.

Memories flooded through you, gripping you tightly, suffocating you. The destruction of New York, Ultron, Sokovia, Ragnarok, Natasha, one after the next crashed into you. Guilt, anger, frustration, rage, regret, sorrow, anger, and you knew you’d never reach him in time. You knew what he planned to do. You didn’t know if it was something he had already decided, though.

You had thanked him for trying and left the compound. Without meaning to you had brought yourself back to your old place. You knew that Nat had added it to the list of safe houses, and that it would be unoccupied. What you hadn’t realized is that no one had come here, at all. It was exactly the same as it had been when you left it a year ago. You had expected it to be scrubbed of your presence. You hadn’t expected the pictures of your family.

Whatever the stones had done to you, whatever they had changed, at the core of it, you were still yourself.

Now

You tried not to listen to the interaction between Thor and Loki, you really did. But, you had special insight into how Thor was truly feeling. You, also, had insight into how Loki was really feeling, which you had gathered was fairly unusual.

“Truly, brother, I am not tricking you. Nor is this an illusion. I was fished out of space by your friend.” You looked around the barren landscape, and studied the twisted metal. You looked for the rest of the team, anything to keep from listening in. Of course, Thor’s boisterous voice made sure you did hear him.

“Join me then! Among the stars, the rabbit has offered a ride.” Loki scrunched his face in confusion, and you fought the urge to help or laugh.

“Actually, Thor, Loki and I have been tasked with helping Doctor Strange. Loki just couldn’t wait to see you.” You threw a small smirk to Loki, knowing he’d hate the sentiment, and you could feel the embarrassment on him.

“Yes, well, I didn’t expect there to be quite so much to see. You’ve really let yourself go, brother.” Loki sniped.

“Loki!” You snapped, knowing you had set him off, and regretting it. He merely shrugged. Thor laughed.

“It is true! Don’t worry Stone, it would take more than a mere insult to outweigh the joy I’m feeling at having my dear brother back. And knowing that he is continuing his hero streak is such a relief!” Thor clapped Loki hard on the back. “Farewell, Loki. Goodbye, Stone.” You squinted at the blue light he left behind, and turned to the God of Mischief.

“Let’s go meet a man about the Multiverse.” You joked, and Loki hummed. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I have a plan.” He began, and you rolled your eyes. “Hear me out, first.” You shook your head and grabbed his arm.

He stumbled into you, and you righted him. He smoothed his jacket, and cleared his throat.

“That was quite rude. Stone, is it?”

“Hmm, some of the Avengers call me that.”

“Whatever for?”

“The Infinity Stones gave me my powers.” You told him, realizing as you said it that it may be a mistake to reveal. If he was to be trusted, he could potentially help you. He wielded the tesseract, and nearly died for it. He could, perhaps, understand its power. On the other hand, he could use that against you. You weren’t sure how, but he was mischievous, right?

“How peculiar. I refuse to call you ‘Stone,’ though. Surely, we can do better.” You gaped at him for a moment. “What? Loki and Stone? That’s hardly a properly named duo.” You scoffed.

“Good, you’re here. Ready to begin?” Strange asked, appearing on the sidewalk next to the building. You nodded, thankful for the interruption. He led you into the Sanctum Sanctorum, and you kept an eye on Loki. You didn’t think he’d run off, but he was far from trusted to do the right thing. Regardless of what Thor thought.

[avi17]

MK X Pacific Rim AU Concept

You ever get an AU idea in your head and go absolutely feral for a bit putting it all on paper?  Me neither, until now!  This isn’t so much a fic as just a detailed wiki-style outline, but hopefully it will still be fun to read!  I had a ton of fun figuring out how to translate all these concepts and backstories into the PR world. If anyone feels like doing anything with these ideas they’re absolutely welcome, just please credit me and link back to this post if you do!  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write this into some massive longfic, but I definitely hope to do some shorts in this ‘verse. I brainstormed this with a bunch of people, and got some fun ideas from @sxvethelastdance​, @bastardsunlight​, and @fallen-angel-lucifer- thank you guys so much for humoring all this!​

Pan Pacific Defense Corps Marshal Raiden was a legendary Mark 1 pilot dating back to when the program was first launched.  Based out of the Shatterdome in Tokyo, he and his brother Fujin, in their Jaeger Thunderbolt Gale, were the first line of defense from Kaiju attacks headed westward from the breach for five grueling years. However, they met their match in Motaro, the first Category 3 Kaiju to make landfall on Hokkaido, and when Fujin was torn from their Jaeger and killed, Raiden was forced to take down the creature solo- a feat replicated only twice since. The physical and emotional toll of that day led to his retirement from active combat, but he remained in the PPDC as a commander, as well as a mentor of other pilots.  When the Jaeger program was decommissioned, he was the last one to retain his faith in it, and took up leadership over the few remaining Jaegers at the Shatterdome in Hong Kong for one final stand against the Kaiju. Current Pilots:

Liu Kang and Kung Lao Jaeger: White Lotus Original base: Hong Kong

The home base heroes of the Hong Kong Shatterdome, pilots Liu Kang and Kung Lao are the top graduates and darlings of the Wu Shi Jaeger Academy.  Raised together in a martial arts sect before the first breach and drift compatible since their ranger training began, they are nearly inseparable- though Kung Lao has never quite forgotten how Liu Kang's scores just barely edged out his own in their individual skill assessments, and he strives constantly to prove himself his partner's equal (despite Liu Kang's insistence that such competition is unnecessary). Their Jaeger, White Lotus, is a well-rounded, powerful machine, featuring high-powered flamethrowers, as well as a system of fuel vents that allow it to set its fists alight and heat them to brutal temperatures in close-quarters battle. For ranged combat, it utilizes a circular blade mounted to its head, which can be thrown like a boomerang with enough force to slice through buildings. 

Kitana and Jade Jaeger: Edenia Glory Original Base: Lima

Interplanetary refugees, Kitana and Jade escaped to Earth after their homeworld was attacked and overrun by Kaiju invaders.  Their spacecraft crashed in the middle of the Amazon rainforest, and though they immediately searched for civilization in order to warn Earth’s people of what was to come, the first wave of attacks had already begun.  After making their way to Lima, they volunteered to put their combat skills and close bond to use as rangers in the South American Jaeger program. Together they have defended the coasts of Chile and Peru since the Mark-2 days, though between battles, they spend their time in communication with the PPDC and the U.N., sharing what information they can about the Kaiju and other alien life previously unknown on Earth. Their Jaeger, Edenia Glory incorporates technological elements from their original planet not used in any other Jaeger, and is lithe, fast, and deadly, with a style focused primarily on precision bladework rather than hand to hand brawling.  Its name is a tribute to their lost homeworld, and they use it to great effect to prevent Earth from suffering the same fate.

Sonya Blade and Jackson "Jax" Briggs (later Johnny Cage) Jaeger: Flawless Victory Original Base: Los Angeles

Both Lt. Sonya Blade and Maj. Jax Briggs had successful careers in the U.S military behind them when the first Kaiju came ashore and attacked San Francisco.  Though at the time, Sonya was in the field pursuing the criminal Kano, she returned to the states when her friend and superior officer, Jax, suggested that they might be good candidates for the newly-formed ranger program.  He proved to be right, and the two did time at the Shatterdomes in both Los Angeles and Anchorage, fighting off Kaiju from Canada to Mexico, and became well-admired figures within the military for their ascent.  Though far from unscathed, the ostentatiously-named Flawless Victory is the last American Jaeger left standing by the time the program is decommissioned and is a tank of a machine, sacrificing some speed for the greatest physical strength of any Jaeger still on the field. Like the other American Jaegers, for long range combat it favors plasma cannons and explosives- particularly a ring-shaped plasma blast with wider coverage than the usual single beam- but it is at its most effective when delivering a crushing beatdown up close and personal. Johnny Cage is the star of a popular series of action films dramatizing the battles of the Jaegers and Kaiju, and to many civilians at home, is as much the face of the Jaeger program as its real members.  He has a secret ambition to become an actual pilot and has an impressive record in simulations, but because of his celebrity status (and his personality), Marshal Raiden and the other Jaeger teams refuse to consider him as a true contender.  However, when a vicious fight with two Kaiju at once leaves both of Jax's arms shattered, taking him out of commission as a pilot for the foreseeable future, Sonya is forced to accept Johnny as her new co-pilot in order to keep Flawless Victory in the fray where it is needed. Despite her irritation with him, they turn out to be drift compatible, and become a formidable duo in their own right.

Hanzo Hasashi and Kuai Liang Jaeger: Phantom Vengeance Original Base: Nagasaki

From the Nagasaki Shatterdome, the bright yellow Mark-3 Jaeger Shirai Ryu defended the coast of the Yellow Sea across three countries.  Its building was overseen by its husband and wife pilots, Hanzo and Harumi Hasashi, and it was named for the legendary warrior clan from which Hanzo claimed descent.  It was in service for four years, though Hanzo and Harumi always spent as much time as possible between missions with their young son Satoshi, who lived with them in their quarters at the base so that his parents could still have a part in raising him in a world that would not guarantee a reunion for families who choose to separate. Across the sea based in Shanghai was an organization known as the Lin Kuei, a private military contractor funded by shadowy, unknown sources.  Though its bread and butter was anti-Kaiju weaponry, it also began to develop its own Jaegers- the only ones outside the PPDC, created from illicitly obtained blueprints, and hireable for the right price.  Its crown jewel was a small, stealthy machine called simply Sub-Zero, unique for its proficiency underwater and tendency to use coolant as a weapon rather than fire or explosives, and piloted by two brothers- Bi-Han and Kuai Liang. When the massive Kaiju Kintaro directly attacked the Nagasaki Shatterdome, Shirai Ryu was the only Jaeger left to defend it. Desperate, the Hasashis attempted to contact the Lin Kuei, as they were closer than the nearest other Shatterdome in Tokyo.  They received no response and were forced into battle alone, and though they prevailed, the price was too high- not only Harumi’s life when part of their cockpit was crushed, but Satoshi’s as well, buried in the wreckage of the base.  In his grief, Hanzo blamed the Lin Kuei- particularly Bi-Han, with whom he had never gotten along- for what he perceived as a failure to act due to greed and amorality. What Hanzo did not know that day was that they were experiencing the first double event in history, and Sub-Zero and the Lin Kuei were under attack by the Kaiju Sheeva at the same time.  The Kaiju hivemind had figured out Sub-Zero’s usual strategy of attacking from the water, and were ready with an acidic bite that tore a hole in the cockpit, which rapidly flooded.  After a similar failure to make contact with Shirai Ryu, Bi-Han was swept out into the sea and presumably drowned (though his body was never recovered), but Kuai Liang, despite a bleeding face and water up to his neck, managed to kill the Kaiju mere moments before Sub-Zero ceased to function. After his release from medical, a furious Kuai Liang set off immediately for the remains of the Nagasaki Shatterdome to confront Hanzo for his failure to respond to the attack, since Shanghai was within Nagasaki's area of coverage. Both blinded by rage, they nearly got into a fistfight in the middle of the base, but once they realized what had truly happened, their anger cooled.  They bonded over their grief, and the unfathomable experience of having to pilot a Jaeger alone after such loss- and in the process, discovered they were drift compatible, and that they both wished to continue the fight in retaliation for what the Kaiju had done to their families. Their new Jaeger, Phantom Vengeance, is a strange sight- constructed from salvaged pieces of both Sub-Zero and Shirai Ryu (along with some newer tech to fill the gaps), it looks as much like a walking ghost as its pilots. However, it should not be underestimated based on its appearance. Quick and light (for a Jaeger), it features a retractable grappling hook to drag Kaiju into the range of its blasts of powerful coolant, and a devastating grip to snap them like twigs once frozen. 

Other Players:

After the destruction of Sub-Zero and the defection of Kuai Liang, the Lin Kuei concluded that the problem with the Jaeger program was the human element of drift compatibility, which limited the number of possible pilots and held them back due to concern for their partners in battle.  Therefore, in secret, they began a series of horrific experiments, fusing subjects with their Jaegers to operate more like batteries than true pilots, and erasing their memories through drugging and electric shock in order to create blank minds that could operate together without the complications of emotion.  Assassins Cyrax and Sektor, along with Kuai Liang’s close friend Tomas Vrbada, were among the subjects of this initiative, forced to operate a three-armed machine called Triborg.

Shang Tsung is a scientist, shunned from the academic community and at times running afoul of the law for his unethical- if not outright twisted- biological experiments. He and Marshal Raiden have crossed paths in the past, and though no one knows the details, their enmity towards each other is clear. However, in his desperation after the decommissioning of the Jaeger program, Raiden had Shang Tsung brought from prison to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, and gave him access to whatever parts he needed to find a way to destroy the Kaiju- by any means necessary. Shang Tsung agreed partly because of the money offered, but mostly because the world's destruction would throw quite the wrench into his own personal goals. (And maybe because it was deeply satisfying- and perhaps useful- to have the Marshal in his debt.) Where his allegiance will lie at the end of the day, however, is anyone's guess. 

For such experiments, one needs a steady supply of Kaiju parts, and for contraband like that, Raiden had to look even lower- to the crime syndicate the Black Dragon, led by Kano and including his associates, Kabal and Erron Black.  Though once mercenaries dealing in everything from illicit arms trading to assassination, the Black Dragon followed the money and and put all their resources into the trafficking of Kaiju parts.  With demand so high, they have become immensely powerful, but their involvement with the PPDC in the name of greater profits ends up bringing Kano face to face with his old nemesis, Sonya Blade- with predictably violent results.

Nightwolf was the historian of the Matoka tribe, which had long ago predicted a great cataclysm that would bring about the end of life on earth.  Though he had been skeptical that such legends were real, when that cataclysm came to pass in the form of the Kaiju invasion, Nightwolf was not content to merely await a prophesied destruction.  He left home and applied for the ranger program, but although he trained toward being a pilot and had the necessary combat skills, he never found a partner with whom he was drift compatible.  Rather than dwell on this with resentment, he pivoted his focus into other ways he could help, and found his place as a technician and LOCCENT officer.  Transferred to Hong Kong after the decommissioning of the Jaeger program, he was the rangers’ primary point of communication with the base while in battle.

Though most of the world fears the Kaiju, there are also those who worship them, and such admiration has evolved over the years into a full-blown religion.  The shadowy high priest of this cult is Quan Chi, who claims that the Kaiju have been sent by the God of Death himself- to end the days of humans on Earth as we so richly deserve.  Recently, a strange, hollow-eyed man calling himself Noob Saibot has appeared like a shadow at Quan Chi’s side, serving as his personal bodyguard against all threats and a fellow ardent believer in the inevitability of humanity’s destruction. Mileena is a grotesque fusion of Kaiju DNA with that of Kitana, which was stolen against her will when she was injured and bled during the invasion of Edenia. She enters Earth as a general of the Kaiju, connected to their hivemind, along with the first Category 5 to ever come through the breach, Goro.  Together, they intend to ensure the will of their creator and the ruler of the Anteverse- Shao Kahn- is carried out.

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Welcome to Faerieland - Fan Fic (last chapters)

Here we go! Last chapters of Welcome to Faerieland.

Link to full story on AO3 here.

*****

Dru and Ash landed a mile or so away from their destination, in order to avoid drawing attention to the location. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the two rocs turned around and disappeared above the treetops.

“I can walk,” Dru said and Ash offered his arm to steady her while she limped toward the general direction of the cottage. She knew it pretty well, it had sort of become a Blackthorns’ country home.

“So how do you know this place?”

“My eldest brother is dating the King of the Unseelie Court, and that’s where they meet sometimes.”

Ash whistled.

“One of your brothers is King Kieran’s lover? I think I heard about him.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty serious, although they won’t ever be able to be official about it. I guess you know what the rules are about faerie royalty’s consorts?”

“I do,” he averted his gaze and brushed a hand through his hair, in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. Dru realized it was the first time Ash had looked uncomfortable about a subject.

“A lot of rules need to be changed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t you agree?” His green eyes bore into her as he said it, as if he was desperate for her approval.

“Well, King Kieran has already been carrying out a lot of changes since he came to power. It’s just that… sometimes, it takes time. You can’t change the world overnight.”

Ash kicked a pebble. “You could, if you didn’t insist on everything being consensual. Maybe King Kieran cares too much about what people think of him... or, you know, in general.” He shrugged but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and it almost made her cringe.

“You know, Ash, if what you are looking for in a sovereign is arbitrary decisions and a bitchy attitude, we have the Seelie Queen for that.”

She had expected Ash to laugh, his free, careless laugh - God, she loved it when he did that - but he seemed lost in thought.

She had to admit she had been a bit harsh. She knew the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were in much better terms now that King Arawn was dead. The Queen had appointed the Unseelie Prince Adaon as her most trusted advisor and the two of them and King Kieran met regularly to reinforce the bonds and cooperation between both realms.

Dru started humming a song and Ash paused, his green eyes widening. “Are you singing… Royals ?”

“Yeah, I love that song. Do you know it?”

“I do,” he answered, suppressing a smile.

As they walked, she sang louder - she knew the lyrics by heart - and he watched her with glittering eyes, clearly entertained.

“And we'll never be royals It don't run in our blood That kind of luxe just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler You can call me queen bee”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered in her ear as he tickled her, and she elbowed him playfully.

He sang along with her then - he had a beautiful tenor voice - both of them throwing their heads back at the same time to howl at the sky “And baby, I'll rule - I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule” , like a pair of wolves. They roared with laughter, Dru holding her ribs and leaning against Ash for support. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she marvelled at the fact that she had found a new friend in such a short time.

At the Academy, people either feared her because she was a Blackthorn or wanted to be friends with her simply for that same reason. Or both. She was almost a celebrity, despite herself. Only because of her last name and her eldest brothers’ hand in ending the Cold Peace in the most spectacular way. And of course, there were always the loud-mouthed bigots and moralists who were baffled by the Blackthorns’ ties with the Fair Folk and their so-called “sexual and moral depravity”. The Rosales, of course, suffered the same criticism, and Jaime had always been a comforting shoulder and reliable friend to Dru in those moments where she felt she had had too much to deal with.

She didn’t want to worry Julian, Emma, Mark or even Helen with her troubles making friends at the Academy.

She couldn’t confide in Ty, because he didn’t care at all what people thought, and was content with sticking to his close friends, Livvy and Anush. His teachers, especially Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were absolute fans - even if Fell would never admit it - and everyone at the Scholomance was too impressed by his obvious academic superiority - and maybe, the Carpathian lynx tailing him - to dare bother him anyway.

Ash seemed to be far away from all of this, as if he had been living as a hermit in a remote tower, which was probably close to the truth.

He was the only one outside her siblings, with the exception of Jaime of course, to treat her like an ordinary girl.

And maybe, maybe someday Ash could become more than a friend. He was nice, definitely fun, absolutely gorgeous and he had kissed her after all, even though she knew it could be meaningless where faeries were concerned. She had been waiting for Jaime to figure things out for so long, and Ash had appeared out of nowhere and had shown interest without a moment’s hesitation.

She was interrupted in her thoughts as a broad-shouldered silhouette falling from the sky dropped on the ground before them. Dru released Ash’s arm to clap both her hands on her mouth, relief washing over her. Kit, looking as angelic as ever with his bright blue eyes and tousled blond hair, fluttered his white wings tipped with gold as he advanced gleefully to greet Dru.

The reunion was cut short as he was suddenly thrown back by a figure shooting straight into him like a cannonball and from one moment to the next, Kit disappeared into a ball of black and white feathers, rolling on the grass.

It took Dru a moment to realize that Ash had disappeared from her side and that he was actually the one who had attacked Kit. She ran to separate them but soon they were shooting up, caught in a wrestling match a few feet above ground, moving so swiftly they were a blur.

Dru let out a heavy sigh before she put two fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. The two figures froze - they were still grappling each other - and looked down.

“ASH! KIT! Both of you. Get down here! NOW.”

They both looked at each other.

“ASH! What the hell is wrong with you, this is my brother’s boyfriend !” Dru continued, gesturing frantically toward Kit.

Ash released Kit first, grudgingly, and they both landed softly on the floor. There was a long gash across Ash’s cheek but he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering in excitement. He winked at Dru as he wiped blood from his mouth. Kit was rearranging his hair, looking pissed, and Dru realized that his knuckles were bloody and that there was a small cut on his eyebrow. Both of them seemed otherwise unharmed.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Batman ?” Kit said, glaring at Ash.

“Sorry,” Ash replied, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I took you for a psychopathic jerk who nearly killed me a few years ago. He literally kicked me and my uncle out of the place we used to live in. You look exactly like him.”

“Well, it can’t have been me since last night was the first time I ever saw you,” Kit replied sharply, wiping his bloody knuckles over his shirt.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I figured that out pretty fast. You fight like a pussy compared to him.”

“Want to say that again?” Kit lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Boys, could you please stop comparing the sizes of your dicks, so we can move on?”

Ash and Kit complied, arguing over which Batman movie was best the entire way, until the cottage came into view, a few feet away. The door opened and Jaime came out of it, running toward them.

“Dru,” he cried out. He caught up to her, and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She lost herself in his familiar and comforting scent and pressed her cheek against his torso. “Mi corazón,” he whispered softly. "We were worried sick. Cómo estás?”

Jaime brushed his hands through Dru’s hair and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She swiftly pulled back, her eyes darting to where Ash was leaning against a tree, talking to Kit, his arms crossed. He was smiling indulgently at her, as if he didn’t mind.

“I am fine, thanks to Ash,” she said, and pulled Jaime over to where Ash and Kit were standing. “Jaime, this is Ash. Ash, this is Jaime,” she introduced, waving her hand awkwardly between the two of them.

“Thank you for taking care of our precious Dru,” Jaime said, extending his hand. “We owe you one.”

“No hay de qué!” Ash replied, shaking his hand.

“Hablas español?” Jaime asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Solo a hombres con un excelente gusto en mujeres.” He gave Jaime a wicked grin and looked pointedly at Dru. Jaime’s face fell.

A high-pitched shriek had them whip their heads up in time to see a majestic roc land on the ground, a few feet away. Ty hopped gracefully from the giant bird and walked immediately to Dru. He was pale - even more so than usual - with deep dark circles under his gray eyes, and Dru marvelled at how gorgeous her brother was anyway, whatever state he was in. She sometimes wished she had inherited the same stunningly sharp features. Without a word, Ty knelt in front of Dru and started inspecting her wound.

“Ash, this is my brother Ty,” Dru announced proudly.

Ash started to extend his hand but Dru shook her head at him. He let it fall by his side.

“Ty, this is Ash.”

Tiberius nodded without lifting his gaze.

“Who tended to the wound?”

“I did,” Ash answered.

Ty finally stood - and Dru realized Ash was almost as tall as Ty, which was saying something, since Ty was very tall - and glanced at Ash for the first time, his gray eyes looking down under his long eyelashes and not lifting up from a spot on Ash’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said curtly.

Hesitantly, Ty put his arms around Dru in one of the rare hugs he had ever granted her. It was awkward and short, but Dru knew it meant Ty had been truly terrified of losing her.

After they released each other, Ty whirled and started walking toward the cottage. He paused after a few steps and glanced over his shoulder. The four of them had just been standing there, staring at him. “Are you coming?”

They all hurried after Ty, Dru having one arm around Ash’s, and the other around Jaime’s.

“So, tell me. Are all your brothers this handsome?” Ash asked her, as he looked Ty up and down appreciatively.

“EXCUSE ME? “ Kit interjected. His whole face had gone bright red in an instant and he started cracking his bloody knuckles. He looked poised for a second round.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Ash did not seem in the least bit concerned by Kit’s reaction.

“It’s my boyfriend you are talking about.”

“And I just said I found him attractive. Is that in any way offensive?”

Dru laughed. “No,” she said. “I am sure you were simply stating your opinion and not trying to steal Kit’s boyfriend.”

“I am not trying to steal anyone’s lover,” Ash concurred, gazing wistfully at Dru. ”I just admire beauty when I see it”.

“But he would definitely be up for sex if Ty wanted to,” Jaime muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Ash shot him a puzzled look. “Of course, I would. Why not? Kit would be welcome as well, the more the merrier.”

Kit opened his mouth but seemed too much in a shock for a witty comeback. That was a first.

Oddly enough, Dru realized she didn’t feel jealous or baffled by Ash’s statement. He was like an untamed bird breaking out of a cage, unwilling to bend to any rules of propriety. She guessed part of it was due to his fey heritage.

“Mark is the Unseelie King’s lover, the Seelie Queen keeps trying to get into Julian’s pants and now you two,” Jaime said eventually, looking over at Ty and Dru. “What is it with the Blackthorns and the Fair Folk anyway?”

“Probably the exact same thing there is with Blackthorns and any other species,” Ash said evenly.

Everyone turned a questioning look at him.

“They are hot,” he said simply, and shrugged.

Everyone laughed at that.

*****

They were all starving so they decided to have breakfast in the cottage before heading back home.

Kit, wearing an apron that had "Doughnut sandwiches are a proper meal” printed on it (and that probably belonged to Mark Blackthorn), was in the kitchen, scrambling a huge portion of eggs in a large pan with a wooden spoon. He somehow managed to make it look totally hot.

“Eggs?” Ty asked Kit as he came to stand next to him and put a hand on the small of Kit’s back.

“Yeah, I would have cooked pancakes, but we are missing a few ingredients to do that. So it will be eggs. Eggs and fruits. God knows there are plenty of fruits here.”

“You know how to cook pancakes?” Ty asked, his gray eyes widening in surprise.

Kit shot him a shy glance.

“Yeah, I… I asked Julian for his recipe. You know, in case one day I needed to cook for you…r family.”

Kit and Ty both exchanged a look that was so intimate, Jaime had to glance away. He found Ash leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, and gazing at him with a smirk on his face. He looked like he owned the place and hadn’t just popped uninvited into the home of strangers. When Jaime raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Ash unfolded his arms to draw the shape of a heart in the air in front of him. Jaime rolled his eyes. He definitely didn’t like this guy.

They set the table, while Dru was in the bedroom looking for clothes.

Kit and Ty sat next to each other, their fingers intertwined under the table and their backs to the kitchen counter, which left Ash to sit across from Ty and Jaime to sit across from Kit. They had left a spot at the head of the table for Drusilla, who would have Ash on her left and Ty on her right when she came back.

Ty only had fruits on his plate, and he was eyeing Kit gulping his eggs down, as if he was reconsidering having some himself.

“Want to try?” Ash brought his fork to Ty, who flinched as if he had been stabbed.

Kit grabbed Ash’s wrist and pushed the fork away from Ty.

“Ty can use my fork if he wants to try it. He is my boyfriend, after all.”

Ash shrugged. “Yeah, no worries, I think I got that. You can tattoo it on your forehead, it will spare you from having to repeat it to every living soul you encounter on Earth.”

Ash glanced at Jaime, and said in a lower voice, directed only at him. “And it will keep other people from pining for someone they can’t have.”

“Excuse me?” Jaime turned to whisper in Ash’s ear. “What does it have to do with Dru and me?”

“I was not talking about Dru,” Ash whispered back.

They both jerked their heads up, as Dru swooped in from the bedroom then, wearing a beautiful red dress that Jaime remembered having seen on Cristina. It was much tighter on Dru, clinging to her curves and emphasizing her cleavage. Jaime swallowed. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on in his head.

Ash immediately stood to draw Dru’s chair and she nodded by way of thanking him. She sat on it as if it was a throne, her chin up.

Jaime glanced over at Ash, who seemed so free about his sexuality, and felt a pang of envy.

“So, what’s your deal, Ash?” Jaime blurted. Ash raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Are you…” Jaime cleared his throat. “Bixesual?”

A slow grin spread across Ash’s face. “We’ve just met and you’re already trying to fill your fact sheet about me and tick one of your little boxes?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jaime said, feeling uncomfortable.

“I know you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am not offended by your question,” Ash continued in a gentler voice. “It’s just that… not everyone can fit into little boxes.” He swiftly glanced at Ty when he said it. It was a flicker movement, but lynx-eyed Ty caught it immediately.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tiberius said. “I am definitely gay.” He slipped half a banana inside his mouth then, totally oblivious of the gesture. Kit and Ash weren’t though. Kit made a noise between a snort and a chuckle and spilled the water he was drinking through his nose and all over his shirt, while Ash almost fell off his chair roaring with laughter. Dru looked at the boys with motherly affection.

Jaime stood and hurried to the kitchen to get a towel to clean the mess. When he turned, Kit was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, extending his hand and looking at Jaime with a genuine smile that lit up his gorgeous face.

“Thanks, Jaime,” he said, as he grabbed the towel and started padding his shirt with it. The planes of his muscles stood out and could be seen right through the wet fabric.

“No problem,” Jaime mumbled, feeling his heartbeat increasing inside his chest.

He averted his gaze, past Kit, to the table, where Ty and Dru had their heads bent together, caught in a deep conversation.

Ash was peering around Ty, watching Jaime with amusement. When he caught Jaime gazing back, he stuck his tongue inside his cheek, and started moving his fist back and forth in front of his mouth, miming a blowjob.

Jaime resisted the urge to flip him the finger.

****

When breakfast was over, Dru lay sprawled on a sofa, her leg propped on Jaime’s lap, and Ash was examining the sound system, so he could put music on.

Kit and Ty had disappeared. God only knew where.

“So, what was that demon attack in the middle of Faerie about?” Jaime asked.

“Ty has a theory. And you won’t like it,” Dru replied. “He believes the Unseelie prince who held us hostage has made an alliance with a Greater Demon… probably a Prince of Hell.”

Jaime tensed. If Ty believed this, it was very bad news indeed. “So why send an army of demons to attack an ally?”

Dru twirled a lock of her dark brown hair as she replied. “Two options. Either the Prince of Hell discovered that his ally had been exposed and wanted to silence him. Or… or we will soon be caught in the middle of an internal war between the Princes of Hell.”

“You mean… there might be more than one involved?”

“To quote Ty, evidence makes it more likely than not,” Dru replied, imitating her brother’s voice. Jaime felt dread wash over him.

He gently put Dru’s leg on an armrest and excused himself.

Sometimes, he felt so anxious it was all he could do not to curl up in a corner and wait for his chest pain and dizziness to fade. The mission he had carried out a few years back, where he had to stay hidden all the time, never staying in one place, had made him jumpy, poised for any threat. He didn’t want Dru to see that side of him. For her, he could only be the calm and reliable friend she was used to.

He decided to scout the rest of the cottage for an empty room. There was a corridor - leading to a bathroom? more bedrooms maybe? - on the left side of the main suite’s door.

He went through and just as he turned around a corner... stopped short.

Halfway down the corridor, Ty was leaning with his back against the wall and Kit had his hands propped on either side of him, trapping Ty in a cage of his arms… and they were kissing.

Jaime had never seen two men kissing before and he was surprised to see how tender and sweet it looked. Ty was running his long pale fingers in Kit’s blond hair while the other hand rested on the small of Kit’s back, half of it concealed under Kit’s waistband.

Kit was naked from the waist up and Jaime could see all the tanned muscles in his back contract as he deepened the kiss, eliciting soft moans from the Blackthorn boy.

They were beautiful together, two opposites inevitably drawn to each other, their bodies fitting perfectly like yin and yang.

Jaime felt his whole body react, with a familiar flutter around his stomach and heat rushing up his cheeks. He knew he should not be watching, but he couldn’t get himself to tear his gaze away.

Kit broke the kiss to trace the dark Marks swirling up Ty’s neck with the tip of his tongue. Ty’s gray eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of Jaime. His intense gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem surprised or angry. He simply raised an eyebrow at Jaime as if to say Can I help you with something ?

Jaime hastily retreated to the living room.

He found Ash’s lean figure perched on the wide low table at the center of the room, dancing to the blasting sound of Beyoncé’s Single Ladies and singing along. “If you like it, you should have put a ring on it,” actually sounded very good in his velvety voice. He was twisting, hands on his hips, and throwing his legs up like a professional, while making dramatic faces at Dru, who was sprawled on the sofa, howling with laughter. As he brushed his lips with his finger, licking it and started caressing his torso while throwing his head back, shaking his beautiful silvery hair, he managed to make it look erotic and not ridiculous at all. Jaime had to admit… His moves were perfect, fluid, coordinated and he totally… pulled it off. Annoying jerk.

“Having fun without me?” Kit burst into the room - he was, fortunately, wearing a shirt this time - and immediately hopped on the table to join Ash and one could not imagine they had been wrestling less than an hour before.

When Dru caught Jaime watching them, she patted the spot on the sofa next to her and he moved to drop beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

The music had changed to Rihanna’s S&M and Ash and Kit were dancing together as if they had rehearsed for hours, their dance steps coordinated and smooth. They looked like two lifelong best buddies who could guess each other’s moves. They were pulsing with energy, although obviously neither of them had slept the previous night. Ash made a show of licking Kit’s cheek, and Kit pushed him away, grimacing. When Ash arched his back to rub his buttocks against Kit’s crotch and Kit spanked him, Dru wiped tears from her eyes. Jaime imagined what it would be like to go to a nightclub with the both of them. They would most likely steal the show.

As if on cue, the next song was… Stole the show, by Kygo. As they danced close together in perfect synchrony, Jaime noticed for the first time the similarities between Ash and Kit. Though Ash was all pale, white blond hair and alabaster skin, and Kit was all golden hair and tanned muscles, there was something about their facial features, the planes of their cheeks, the lines of their jaws… They did not look like brothers, but they could easily pass for cousins.

Jaime grabbed a Hot Shadowhunters calendar that had been left on the side table and started flipping through the pages. Looking at the January page featuring Jace Herondale, he wondered why everyone said Kit was like a mini Jace when Jaime could clearly see there was a difference, now that Kit had grown into more adult features. At least to Jaime, Kit’s fey heritage was plain.

When the music changed to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, Jaime turned his head to find Ty leaning against the kitchen counter and watching the two dancers with a bemused expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

He eventually caught Kit’s eye, lifted a questioning eyebrow, and jerked his head toward the bedroom door. Kit stumbled from the table in his hurry to join Ty and followed him out of the living room and through the main bedroom door, which shut behind them.

*****

Kit jumped on the huge threesome bed as soon as they were inside the bedroom. He felt exhilarated, full of adrenaline and restless energy, and he wanted Ty so much that he was certain he would spontaneously combust if they didn’t share their bodies within the next minute.

He shot Ty a smoldering look as he lounged on the thick mattress, twisting his shoulders seductively while singing along to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, which was blasting through the thin walls.

“We got this king-size to ourselves Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's Kama Sutra show and tell, yeah”

Ty had folded his arms against his chest and was shaking his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this misbehaving boy.

“Kit, you interrupted me earlier when I was trying to have a serious conversation. Will you please let me finish this time?”

"I'm in trouble." Kit continued, clapping a hand over his mouth in a dramatic oops gesture. "But I'd love to be in trouble with you."

Ty rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem ready to play along with Kit, so Kit finally stood and grabbed Ty's upper arms, forcing him to back up until he had him pinned against the wall. He started wiggling his hips, rubbing against Ty, his body swaying to the music.

“You've got to give it up to me I'm screaming, "Mercy, mercy, please!" Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

Kit slipped a hand under Ty’s waistband, straight into his boxer shorts, and whispered “Hello there” as he brushed his lips against Ty’s ear.

“Kit…” Ty said sharply, as a warning, though Kit could hear his breathing was uneven.

“Ty,” Kit replied with all the seriousness he could muster. “When I saw you riding that Shinigami demon carrying a crossbow, I was so turned on it was all I could do not to jump your bones there and then.”

Ty laughed softly. “It appears you have a kink involving me wielding dangerous weapons. Maybe I should bring a claymore to bed next time and threaten you with it.”

“Honey, you know that, as far as I am concerned, you carry the deadliest weapon around with you at all times,” Kit started stroking Ty’s length as if to illustrate his point. It hardened under his touch. Good, we’re heading somewhere. "I was talking about your brain of course," Kit added.

“Kit, listen to me.” Ty grabbed Kit’s wrist and pulled it out of his pants. Kit groaned. “Haven’t you noticed anything strange about Ash?”

That caught Kit’s attention. He had not expected Ash to be the subject of their conversation. He had actually hoped to avoid any kind of conversation altogether. For a little while at least.

“Well, I noticed he is an amazing fighter and dancer. I am totally up for challenging him again, either in a training room or on a dancefloor.” There was something about Ash and him fighting and dancing together, a raw yet steady energy, not like the restlessness and all consuming love he felt around Ty, but something grounding him, making him even more focused. As if he had found a kindred warrior spirit.

“He probably has no effect on you, but… I think spells have been worked on him to render him… likeable. People are inevitably drawn to him, want to protect and follow him.”

Kit swallowed, suddenly deadly serious. “Does this… work on you?”

“No. And I have several theories about that. First… Well, I am a bit different. My brain doesn’t work the same way others’ do. Second, the Blackthorns have a bit of Greater Demon blood, even if it is quite diluted. I do believe Dru genuinely likes him.”

“You mean from your ancestor Lucie Herondale?”

Ty nodded. “And the third and most important explanation is… you. You have my full loyalty.” He rested his forehead against Kit’s. “There is no way in hell I am following him, when I could follow you. ”

Kit brushed his lips over Ty’s.

“What about Jaime? He seems to dislike Ash.”

“I am still trying to figure this out. But it may be one of the reasons I am immune to it, myself.”

“What? You think the Rosales have Greater Demon blood as well?”

“Maybe. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

They were both interrupted when they heard voices raising in the living room. Jaime’s voice was the loudest. And he sounded totally pissed.

Ty hurried toward the door, and Kit followed.

****

As soon as Kit and Ty had disappeared behind the bedroom door, Ash jumped over Dru and Jaime’s heads to land behind the sofa and stole the Hot Shadowhunters calendar from Jaime’s hands. “Hey!” Jaime cried out.

Ash circled back and dropped himself next to Dru, which left her crammed between him and Jaime. As he flipped to the first page, the January page, Ash froze. He was gaping at the picture of Jace Herondale, as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

Falling for Jace Herondale, already? What a surprise.

But oddly, Ash didn’t smile or make a sarcastic comment, as Jaime would have expected. He had a sorrowful expression and a faraway look.

“This is Jace Herondale,” Dru said softly. “Surely, even you have heard of him ?”

Ash swallowed. “Yeah,” he said absently. “Yeah, I have. He looks… happy.”

“Well, of course, he is happy. He has it all, hasn’t he?” Jaime said. “War hero. Married to the love of his life. The Consul as faithful parabatai.” Ash flinched, as if each word was a needle to his skin.

“Ash, is everything okay?”

Ash shook his head as if to clear it.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking about… the butterfly effect. How a single human being’s existence… or absence, can change the course of things… can change the whole world.”

Where the hell did that come from? Jaime wondered.

Ash lifted his gaze to stare at the door where Kit and Ty had disappeared. “Take Kit for instance. Who knew it would only take a hot boyfriend to turn a ruthless, bloodthirsty ruler into a harmless kitten.”

“Er- Ash, I am not sure I am following you,” Dru said gently. “What do you mean?”

Ash let out a heavy sigh and slumped back, crossing his long arms behind his head, the Hot Shadowhunters calendar left at the January page on his lap.

“Nothing, I am rambling.” It looked like he was lost in his thoughts again.

Jaime seized the opportunity to whisper in Dru’s ear. “Dru, can we find some place private to… talk?”

Dru gazed at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

Jaime didn’t get a chance to answer as the entrance door rattled at that moment and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise.

The door opened and Mark Blackthorn, all tousled blond hair, pointy ears and flushed cheeks, erupted inside the cottage, wearing ragged jeans and a white shirt with a message that stated, “All good things come in threes”. He paused, as if he didn’t really expect to see so many people in his living room.

Jaime immediately withdrew his arm from Dru’s shoulders and stood, but soon registered that Mark was not looking at him… He was staring at Ash who had, from one moment to the next, leapt on the table in front of them and was crouched on top of it, ready to pounce, a dangerous glint in his ice green eyes. He had moved to protect Dru from a potential threat, Jaime realized. And there was no trace of the Ash that had been goofing around with Kit a moment before. The feeling that he had been played like a fool until then hit Jaime like a freight train. They had all fallen for Ash’s laid-back, good guy act. In one instant, Ash had revealed his true, predatory nature…

“Mark!” Dru waved from the sofa, unfazed. “You already know Jaime of course and this is Ash,” she introduced. “Ash… this is my brother Mark.”

Ash relaxed from his stance and leapt off the table, flashing a bright smile and wearing his cool guy mask back on. As if he hadn’t been ready to rip Mark’s throat a second before. The abrupt change in Ash's behaviour almost gave Jaime a whiplash.

“Have we… met before?” Mark asked, looking at Ash with his brows furrowed as he closed the door.

“In any event, I wish to be properly introduced,” Ash said, evading the question. “I am Dru’s boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Dru interjected at the same time Jaime exclaimed “WHAT?”

Ash shrugged. “I thought our make out session had settled it.”

Jaime felt heat rush up his face. He whirled on Dru. “We’ve known each other for three years and you’ve known this guy for what? Less than twelve hours? And you’ve already kissed him?”

“To be fair, I am the one who kissed her ,” Ash said in a calm voice. “She didn’t tell me to stop, though.” He paused, his long fingers stroking his delicate chin as he pondered. “Then again, how could she have, what with my tongue being down her throat and all?”

“Ash, don’t intervene,” Dru said, her already white complexion growing paler by the second. “This is not between us.”

“Really?” Ash answered in a fake shocked expression. “I could have sworn it was my tongue down your throat.”

“What’s going on here?” Ty asked as he came out of the bedroom, followed by Kit.

“GREAT!” Jaime said. “That’s just my luck! We’re just missing Julian and…”

“And?” Julian asked, his tall broad-shouldered figure appearing in the entrance. He froze in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his face a mask of shock as his blue-green eyes swept across the room.

“... And all my worst nightmares are reunited in the same room. OK, let’s be done with it.”

Jaime took a deep breath and caught each of the Blackthorn brothers’ gaze, one after the other.

“I. FANCY. DRU. OKAY? I like her. I know she’s sixteen, but we are good together and I want her to be my girlfriend.”

*Cough* “ Too late.” *Cough* That was Ash. Dru turned to glare at him.

“Well, that’s not even relevant anymore, is it? Since apparently… She prefers Legolas, here.” Jaime continued, waving his hand toward Ash.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t even look like him.”

“Lego-who?” Ty asked, puzzled.

“He’s talking about Ash. Don’t worry honey, I’ll explain,” Kit said, speaking for the first time.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” Julian asked, turning toward Kit, a flicker of panic crossing his features.

“He just came out of the bedroom with Ty,” Mark said.

Kit lifted both his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t having sex with him,” he blurted. “I mean… not this time.” His face went red. “I mean- I am out of here. If anyone’s looking for me, I’m in the bedroom.” He whirled and paused in front of the bedroom door, his hand on the knob. “Not having sex with anyone...” he specified before he disappeared behind it.

Julian heaved a sigh and turned his gaze back to Ash.

Ash gulped. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, his green eyes wide.

“This is not the end of it. But first things first. Can anyone tell me what the hell Ash Morgenstern is doing here?”

They had barely registered the question, when a sharp cry from behind Julian had them all jump. A slender figure peered around him, red hair like flames flowing over a green velvet dress embroidered with gold. Jaime had seen enough drawings and pictures of her to recognize her instantly. The Seelie Queen.

She pushed Julian aside and ran to Ash, throwing her thin pale arms around him and burying her face in his chest, the golden circlet around her head tipping to the side as she did. “Where were you last night? I came to the house, and it was empty . I have been looking for you everywhere since!”

Dru was staring at Ash open-mouthed. He shot her an apologetic look.

“Mom, let me introduce you to Dru. Dru…” Ash cleared his throat. “Meet my mom.”

*****

Tagging @gabtapia ❤️ Hope you'll enjoy it and, of course, don't hesitate to correct my spanish ;)