#i am so happy to see this discussed you cannot imagine

[ohnoohnoohnoohnoohnosblog]

^^ this

This is the most important response to “AI is going to replace all the jobs”

#MarcusHutchins

[cherrysweets-world]

Invidia

masterlist - part two

Pairing - unrequited Geta x caracalla’s wife!Reader, Caracalla x fem!Reader

Summary- Geta wants what he can't have - his brother's wife.

Warnings - minors dni, intense pining, sexual contact, concubines, brief sex, unedited, can be read as a standalone

Word Count - 1.2k

Geta loved his brother. He knew this. Sometimes Caracalla even knew it too. However, as of late, it had been hard to remember.

The room was crowded and the air was hot and heavy. Some noble was in front of Geta, discussing some plan or other. Normally Geta at least tried to stay engaged, but tonight it was particularly difficult.

Caracalla was having no trouble staying preoccupied. No-one dared even approach his brother, lest they break his good mood. A mood brought on by his delightful new wife, who was currently sat square in Caracalla's lap.

It was unusual for noble women to engage in such openly intimate behaviour. Caracalla's happiness was so rare, though, that they didn't even look twice. If you could keep the young Emperor distracted and engaged in less blood thirsty pursuits then who were they to judge? It had been a peaceful month because of you and Geta could tell everyone, from the servants to counsel men to himself, was grateful for it.

Grateful and bitter, he thought to himself. It was not so long ago that he thought he was the fortunate one. Caracalla had always been resentful that he had been betrothed to a woman when Geta was free to choose for himself. Geta had privately agreed and had thought that he might never marry. It was perhaps the one duty that his brother had taken on so he would not have to.

His sister-in-law laughed loudly, leaning into Caracalla to whisper some secret thing to him. Geta's ears burned and he found himself leaning further toward them, as though he might hear what you had to say.

Caracalla responded with a raspy giggle, hands busying themselves on your thighs. There was nothing sexual about it, really. Just close intimacy, unlike anything either of them had shared with anyone before. Geta squeezed his hands tight, imagining what it would feel like to trace those very same patterns as Caracalla.

He could take it no more. "Senator, please, you must enjoy yourself," he tried to grin, "Rome has earned herself a break, has she not? Please, taste the wine, the food. Perhaps the women?"

The senator gave a full laugh. "Perhaps, Emperor Geta, perhaps."

Geta got to his feet immediately. The senator had hardly had the chance to turn around before Geta was across the room and standing before his brother and you.

"Geta," you said, surprised, "we were just thinking of rescuing you."

Caracalla gave him a look that said he was very much not planning to do that. "My wife is very thoughtful, is she not?"

"She is," Geta responded, hoping for nonchalance. "She is also the Empress of Rome. Do you think it is wise to be groping her like that so publicly? She is not one of your whores."

"Oh, I do not mind," you dismissed his concern, "they all know who I am. And it soothes my Emperor to have me so close."

"It does," Caracalla confirmed. "I cannot say you bring me the same joy, brother. I'm sure there are many others who would love to entertain you."

Geta's jaw worked as he considered this. There was no playfulness in his brother's eyes, he was serious. It was off putting to see him so lucid. How was this fair? Geta was the one who worked hardest to rule over Rome and her subjects. He was the Emperor people came to with their questions and simpering proposals. So why had his brother been blessed with a woman such as you?

He knew he should be more grateful. Caracalla had not had a serious episode since the night he met you. When he did have one it was quickly ended by you. In general he had become much more reasonable and everyone was all the happier for it.

Caracalla seemed especially aware of the blessing the Gods had granted him. He did not find Geta's interest in his wife amusing.

Caracalla did not even know the half of it. Geta had been yearning for you since the night you met. You had caught them both at a vulnerable moment and had comforted them when no one else had or could. How could he not want to be around you? He saw the contentedness you brought his brother and could not help but want that for himself.

Sometimes, at night, when he knew the pair of you were enjoying yourselves together, his thoughts turned a dark path. Caracalla had only been married to you for a month - it was not too late to annul the marriage and take you for himself. Darker still, he thought about sending Caracalla far, far away and telling you that he had died. You would turn to Geta for comfort and -

"Geta," you interrupted his thoughts, "are you well? You seem distracted."

"You are most kind, my sister-in-law," he smiled wearily, "I am. . .tired. I will retire early."

You opened your mouth as if to say something more but Caracalla leaned close, nuzzling your neck and tickling a giggle from you. It was shameful how hard the sound made Geta's cock and he almost grabbed it, right there in front of everyone.

Caracalla stared at him from your neck, blue eyes watchful and knowing. Although he was angry at Geta's wanting, part of him was also satisfied to have something that was finally his and his alone. Even better than it was you.

"We shall retire too," Caracalla said, hands coming up to cup your waist and graze the bottom of your breasts. He was making it no secret exactly what the pair of you would be getting up to and white hot jealousy almost skewered Geta to the spot. He wanted to tear you from his brother's arms but he was well aware had no right.

It was a terrible though, but sometimes Geta wished his brother was sicker again. Maybe then you would have come to him more often, or he would have been able to steal you away without his brother's unusually watchful eye. Something about you made him better, though, more alert. Geta did not want to think of what Caracalla might do if you were taken from him.

Geta stared longingly at the side of your face. You did not look back. Of course you did not. You had no interest in a man who was not your husband, who was not Caracalla. You were a good woman and would never think twice about another man. Geta admired this quality whilst equally resenting it.

He bid you both tonight and turned on his heel, dodging various people on the way out. He selected a concubine, a girl who, if he squinted, almost looked like you and retreated to his chambers.

He fucked her with her face turned into his bedding, imagining it was his brother's wife wrapped around his cock instead. Geta imagined what it would be like if he had been the one to marry you. If he was the one to occupy all your thoughts and attention.

It could be different with you, he thought. Maybe he would be gentle for once. You likely would be. Then again he had seen you flirting with Caracalla and you were not shy. Geta would have to take his time, savour the skin on skin contact with you, savour your noises and looks. It would be unlike how it was with his concubines because it would be you and he had never wanted anything quite so badly. It was to these thoughts that he came.

Still, these fantasies were not enough. He had to know.

Author’s Note - he’s too horny. I think this needs a part two, what do you think?

dividers by @enchanthing

[sluttysnowangel666]

The Wolf & The Wildling

Part 2 to The Woman Beyond the Wall, last part.

masterlist

Summary: One year after Cregan’s near death experience with the wildling woman he met, he returns beyond the wall to find and recruit her in hopes of fighting alongside him for Rhaenyra Targaryen at the start of the Dance of Dragons.

cw; smut af come on you know me, really rough cregan, overstimulation, bit of angst but a happy ending :3, talks of SA, childbirth, no use of Y/N but an x reader,

stop not me getting emotional at my own story bc i imagined the end of scott street by PB playing at the ending😭am i a cornball?? anyways, thank you to the anons in my asks for the inspo, i wasn’t even really sure how to continue this story, although i knew i wanted more for cregan and his wildling, you guys gave me the inspiration i needed to give them their ending! tag list: @rebeccawinters

Every day Cregan hadn’t gone back out there felt like another day wasted.

He struggled to do his duties, struggled to sleep, fight, listen, do anything that required attention from him.

And yet despite their rather harsh separation, Cregan still thought of her with every free moment he had. It didn’t help many lords were also insisting the Warden of the North marry a noble daughter. He knew he had to do his duty, but couldn’t find the strength to do it.

It had been so long since he’d seen her that he’d begun to forget his favorite parts about her. It felt as if her strange laugh no longer echoed in his mind, as if he could no longer envision her scarred yet still smoothed skin.

He had the dagger with him always. It was like keeping a piece of her with him. He remembered the pain so vividly, could still feel the throb in his shoulder if he thought about it too hard.

Yet, the ache was nothing compared to the painful thought that always seemed to stay in his mind.

Would he ever see her again?

He couldn’t help but wonder if the Gods had greater plans for them. He prayed that they did.

“My Lord.” A voice interrupted Cregan from his thoughts. He stood, turning to face the person. “A raven has arrived from Dragonstone.”

Cregan took the scroll from the maester, quickly opening it to reveal its contents. It was a letter from Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was sending her son in hopes of gaining the support of the North, and requested Cregan have an audience with her heir, Jacaerys.

He would have to return to the Wall.

He hadn’t returned, much to the dismay of the Nights Watch, since he had nearly died from his wildling’s arrows. Even the thought of going near the Wall made his heart skip a beat. She would be so close, yet so far. He knew he could no longer avoid the wall. His duty to the men there was dire, and he had let his own fears get in the way of that.

As for his lover, he wasn’t even sure she still wanted him. As far as he knew, she hated him; she wanted to put an arrow through his eye, his dagger through his chest. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to see her again. No lady had ever compared to her. He had found his other half, and now felt empty without her.

If he did find her, what would he even do? They were bonded by love, yet separated by more than a Wall.

The separation would soon not matter anymore.

Winter is coming.

———

A fortnight later

Castle Black

Cregan had welcomed the prince to Winterfell, then accompanied him to the Wall.

The young men walked, discussing terms of Cregan’s service.

“In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing. I need my men here.” Cregan says to his prince.

“Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather,” Cregan twitched at the word wildling. “the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming, to the whole of the realm my lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North.”

Jacaerys trails off, standing against the guard that overlooked the entire outside of the Wall.

“My father brought King Jahaerys and Queen Alyssane to see the wall. His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons, the greatest power in the world, refused to cross… Do you think my ancestors built a 700 foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?”

“What does it keep out?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan finally looks beyond the Wall for the first time in a year, his mind thinking of her for a brief moment, and then the darkness that lies beyond it. “Death.”

“I have thousands of graybeards who have already seen too many winters. They are… wellhoned. I can ready them to march at once.”

“If your graybeards can fight, the queen will have them.”

“They’ll fight hard.” Cregan says, his mind once again thinking of his love as he says his next words. “Like Northerners.”

Jacaerys senses something; more words that the Warden of the North wished to speak.

“Is there something else you can offer us, My Lord?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan hesitates. “There is a woman…” He looks. beyond the wall again. “She is fierce, deadly with a bow. If I can find her… I can ask her to lead the graybeards into war.”

“Should she accept, my mother will be more than pleased to have her.” Jacaerys asks.

“My Lord!” Cregan turns, “A raven has arrived… Urgent news from Dragstone.”

Cregan looks at the man holding the scroll, who holds a sight of worry on his face. Cregan quickly opens the scroll, reading its contents.

Cregan looks at the prince, and Jacaerys tries reading the man’s stoic features.

All Cregan can do is hand Jacaerys the scroll, and let him read for himself.

———

Another fortnight passed following the news of the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Jacaerys had left the Wall at once to return to Dragonstone, whilst Cregan began to prepare his graybeards to march.

“My Lord, why must you go back beyond the Wall? The graybeards do not need a leader. I do not think it wise to let them be lead by a woman beyond the Wall, let alone the one who killed the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.” His maester tells him, worried of how the people of Winterfell and the men on the Wall will react.

“They will not know she’s a wildling. Tis’ not important information. All they need to know is she will lead them well into battle. I trust you’ll keep this information I’ve shared with you private, Maester Windell.”

“Of course, My Lord. You can count on my discretion, always, but I fear wonder if this journey is for more than a leader.”

Cregan stops his packing, not wanting to share more information than he already has with his maester. “No, maester. I only am going to help the Queen. I will be back shortly, with or without the wildling. Winter is coming, and I will not get lost beyond the Wall.”

The maester didn’t argue, so Cregan made his fortnight journey back to the Wall, and then beyond it.

He felt fear when his horse took its first steps onto the icy tundra outside the Wall’s gate. He feared he would not find her, feared she may have died, feared she would kill him before he got to kiss her one last time.

The late summer snow was not too harsh yet, but Cregan knew he did not have long to find her before Winter came.

He searched for days for her.

He returned to the spot where he first set up camp, finding the bark where he had carved a dire wolf had been completely torn and shredded by a knife.

When he returned to the cave it was dark, and no trace of her had been left behind. It made it feel like the moments they shared in there never happened.

He felt lost. He set up his camp in the cave, but she had not snuck to it during the night like last time. If she had, she truly left no trace. But, he knew he hadn’t felt her yet. She wasn’t there.

2 weeks into the journey, he had dreamt of her.

He dreamt he was a wolf, hunting, when he finally saw her.

She was sleeping, ever so soundly, beneath a bright red weirwood. He growled at her, and she awoke quickly, immediately grabbing and aiming her bow at him.

She gasped quickly, catching her breath as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

She released the arrow into his eye, and he awoke.

He was sweating despite the cold, and the burning feeling in his eye was lingering.

He rubbed it softly, but then directed his attention back to her in the dream. It was really her. She looked different. She looked stronger somehow, and her hair had grown greatly. She had it in a long, thick braid. There were bags under her eyes, like she had been exhausted from something.

He stood and exited the cave. The sun was slowly rising, but there was a blue hue that made the snow on the ground glisten. He closed his eyes, stretched, and yawned when he heard a sound.

It was a familiar sound… the sound of a bow string being pulled tightly.

He lowered his arms from his stretch, and opened his eyes.

There she was.

There she was.

She knelt on one knee, aiming her arrow at his eye. Her eyes burnt with a fire that he’d never seen, her breathing was quick and angry, her lips turned in a sad scowl, she was fueled with adrenaline.

He smiled, laughing softly. He couldn’t believe she was here. She pulled the string tighter at his sweet smile, her heart breaking at seeing him truly here.

He took a hesitant step towards her, but stopped.

A soft whining sound came from her back.

His smile faded.

She lowered her bow slowly, eventually dropping it completely. She had a fabric diagonal across her body. She moved it underneath her arm, and then twisted it around her body.

Her hands gently found and cradled the babe.

Cregan gasped. He couldn���t believe it.

She softly hushed the babe, tracing her fingers over its face. She whispered soft, comforting words to it. The babe made gentle little noises.

“Is that…” His voice was barely above a whisper. She looked at him solemnly. His hand covered his mouth.

“This is your son, Cregan.” She finally spoke. Her voice was smooth and melodic, different from how he heard her last time. He stepped towards her, falling to his knees. His whole body was shaking, and not from the cold.

“Does he have a name?” He asks, holding his arms out, hoping she’d trust him enough to hold his son.

She nervously hands him his child, fearful he might take her little babe, her only piece of Cregan, and never return again.

“No.” She says. “I only birthed him a moon ago.”

Cregan can’t hold it in anymore, and begins sobbing. All of his emotions pent up from the last year pour out. He holds the babe close to his chest, sobbing relentlessly.

He’d missed her so greatly this past year and now seeing her here, alone with this little babe, he’d realized how badly he erred. He wasn’t there to comfort her, hold her, help her. She had suffered it all alone.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs.

She stares at him, her face unwavering. She was so angry. She wanted to kill him so bad, to take back her babe and cut his throat.

But, she couldn’t.

He’d broken her heart in such an unimaginable way. She’d cried over him for weeks, and when her blood hadn’t came she knew the worst had happened. But now he was here, holding their babe and sobbing like a child. She didn’t even know Cregan was capable of such emotions. She didn’t truly know him, and he didn’t truly know her.

Her hand found its way to his broad shoulder to try to comfort him. Her other hand moved to cradle his cheek. He rested his face into her hand, spilling wet tears on her.

“Oh, Cregan.” She whispered, wiping the never ending tears from his cheek. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, hushing him like she did their babe. She wrapped her other arm around him, bringing her warm body against his while still being careful of their infant.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “I should not have left you. I should have killed those men and brought you home-“

“Sh, sh, Cregan.” She whispers again. “I’m yours, as you are mine.”

Her words send him back into tears. She presses soft kisses to the tears on his cheek, weaving her fingers in his curls that she desperately missed.

“Where have you been?” He asks, minutes after calming down. “I’ve searched these whole damn woods for you.”

She smiles softly, “You think I don’t know that?” He smiles. “Why did you come back here, Cregan?”

He looks down at their sleeping babe, then back at her. “I’ve wanted to come back every day since I have been apart from you… But, I couldn’t find the strength. I regret it more than anything. I regret leaving you, I regret not coming sooner, I-“

She cuts him off, placing her warm lips onto his. Not breaking the kiss, her hands take the babe from him, setting him aside next to them.

“What are you-“

She slaps him across the face, with such a strong hand that he can’t help but stop and look back at her in total shock. She pulls his lips back into her, confusing him with her back and forth attitude. “If you ever leave me again, I really will put an arrow through your eye.”

He smirks, pulling her back into him with his strength. “Now we’re even.” She whispers.

“We were even when you nearly killed me last year.” He says, she growls at him, but they continue kissing. “I wear these scars with honor.”

She tears into his soft clothes, “Take him inside, and then come back out here and make me yours again.”

He pulls away with haste, grabbing his babe gently and walking back into the cave. She follows, right on his heels. He finds a safe spot for their babe, setting the sleeping child down.

He turns, grabbing her by the neck and kissing her, pushing her backwards out to the cold.

“Be gentle with me.” She whispers into his lips.

“No.” Cregan says, ripping off her furs and throwing them on the ground. She smirks, not wanting him to anyway.

He grabs her by her hair and she shrieks. He pushes her down to her knees, and she sits in the cold snow once again. He unlaces his breeches, and she quickly tugs them down with his soft clothes.

She presses her cold fingers onto his pelvis, and she places gentle kisses along his length. She looks up at him with her big, doe eyes. He pulls her head back by her hair again and she gasps. He pushes himself into her mouth, immediately groaning at her warm tongue. She moans around him, placing her hand at what she can’t fit in her mouth. He grabs both sides of her face, thrusting his hips into her mouth, not realizing his roughness. He had missed her so much, and he was so lost in the pleasure of her mouth.

She gagged repeatedly, her eyes flowing with tears. Her free hand rested on his toned stomach for balance, and she scratched her nails into him from time to time.

He pulled her head back with a pop of her lips, and looked down at the little mess before him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, drool spilling from her lips, her thighs rubbing together to relieve the tension between her legs.

He pushed her back into the snow and got on his knees, placing himself between her legs. He wrapped his hand around her throat again, rubbing his fingers at the wetness between her legs.

“You’ve missed me?” He asks.

“I’ve missed that cock.” She teases.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be much to miss soon.” He presses a harsh kiss to her lips, sliding himself into her. She gasps into his lips, trying to pull away to cry out, but he refuses to let her go. He pulls one of her legs to his chest to give him a deeper angle and she whines into his lips. He starts thrusting, fast and harsh, into her healing cunt. His hand moves from her throat to her breast, now round and large with milk than the last time he’d had her.

“Cregan!” She cries out loudly, finally breaking free from his lips. She throws her head back into ecstasy, her hair becoming wet from the snow. Cregan moans loudly, his thrusts sloppy and quick.

“I’m putting another babe in you.” He moans, forgetting why he was there to retrieve her in the first place.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” She says, slapping him across the face. He looks at her angrily, a wolf awakening inside him. He grabs her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks as he fucks her harshly and angrily.

“I’m gonna cum.” She whines, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Don’t.” He says. She gasps, begging and pleading for her release. He slows his thrust, leaving her in agony. She bucks her hips towards him, but he pushes them down, locking her in place with his strong arm.

“I fucking hate you.” She moans.

“Cum for me then, and we can see if that is how you feel for me after.” His thrusts go back to their fast, sloppy pace, and she moans. Her hands grab his wrist, clawing her nails into his forearm.

She hits her peak and moans his name repeatedly. Her fingers dig into the snow again, the other hand digging into his arm. He growls, not stopping and continuing to thrust.

“Stop it.” She whispers, her body shaking at the sensitivity. Cregan doesn’t listen, only maintaining his harsh pace. He lifts both of her legs to his chest, his length touching her womb. “Please, Cregan, fuck!” She whines, tears spilling from her eyes at the overstimulation.

Her fists hit his chest, and yet he continues. She slaps him across the face, over and over again, and he still continues, his face stoic, desperate for nothing more than to see her writhing beneath him.

She sobs as she cums on him again, slapping and hitting him harshly. Her body is a trembling mess, peaking with pleasure and pain. Finally satisfied, he lets his own peak wash over him, filling her to the brim with his seed again, right against her womb. He rests over her, moaning and biting her neck, despite her nails scratching and drawing blood against his neck.

“Cunt.” She moans into his shoulder, holding him tightly against her shaking body. He pulls out, gently, allowing her to rest before he carries her back into the cave, stepping into the hot spring with her in his arms.

She rests against him, and it’s as if they had never been apart. He looks over at their sleeping babe on the ground, smiling gently. He looks back down at his love, his smile fading.

“There is a war brewing in Westeros.” He finally tells her.

“What for this time?” She asks, drawing little shapes on his chest, not seeming to really care about his answer.

He decides to wait to tell her, instead wanting to enjoy the moment with her.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you… before I left.” He says. She sighs.

“Cregan… Do you wish to know why I killed the Lord Commander?”

He looks down at her, confused. He assumed her only reason was she hated crows. She looks up at him.

“Why?” He asks.

She waits before explaining. “He’d come out there before with some of his men. They often hunted wildlings for fun. They’d tell the men back at the wall it was for a hunting exhibition, but really… They were tired of the women from some place called Mole’s Town.”

Cregan was still confused.

“That was years ago, when I was in a tribe… But, the crows just kept coming back… And our tribe refused to leave, because our ancestors had settled there hundreds of years before.” She pauses, “The Lord Commander always said I was his favorite… I left eventually. Turns out I’m safer alone. That’s when I started killing crows.”

Cregan realized he was gripping her arm too tightly, and loosened his hold. What she said changed everything. Men were coming beyond the Wall to force themselves on wildling women. He wanted to be sick. Cregan’s last words to her before he left… that he would kill her for what she did.

Anger ignited inside him, but there was nothing he could do. The Lord Commander was dead, she got her revenge. But, the thought of that happening to her, the words he spoke before he left her alone. It was too much.

She noticed his tension, and placed her hand on his cheek. “My wolf.” She whispered. He closed his eyes and turned away from her touch.

“I’ve failed you… Again, and again, and again.” He says, tears spilling from his eyes.

She straddles him, forcing him to look at her. “Aye. You have.” He looks at her, not expecting brr bluntness. She wipes his tears. “But you’re still mine, Cregan Stark… and I’m not perfect either.”

He presses a soft kiss to her lips, wrapping his arms around her.

“So, what were you saying about the war?” She asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

“There is a war forming between the dragons. It is growing more and more dire.”

“Dragons?” She asked. “Like in the stories?”

“Aye, my lady. Except these are no stories. The dragons are dancing, and the North must stand ready to fight with the true Queen.”

“Queen?” She asks. “Aren’t you King in the North?”

“No, my love. Starks bent the knee over a century ago.”

She leans back to look at him. “Bend the knee to me.”

“I do every time I stick my cock in you.” She laughs, a sweet and gentle laugh, no longer the chaotic one she used to do.

“You’re different.” He says, a smile on his face.

“I am a mother now. My child has softened my witch heart.” She jests.

Mother. The mother to his child, specifically. He couldn’t ask her to lead the gray beards no longer. She needed to return to Winterfell with him to raise their son. His smile fades and she notices.

“You’re different.” She repeats his words. “Why did you come? Truly?”

“You are a warrior… and the North must stand ready.” He looks at her, his eyes worried.

“You… You want me to fight?” She asks, stepping off him and standing. The water stops at her hips, and he tries hard to keep his attention focused on her face. “Just a moon after I nearly died pushing out your fat little babe?”

“No, no, my lady. I do not want you fighting no longer.” He looks at her, taking her hands in his. “I want you to come home… with me. To Winterfell.”

“My home is the North.” She says, taking her hand away.

“No, no.” He stands, resting his hands on her arms. He looks over at their sleeping son. “He changes everything.”

His son would be considered a bastard, by all traits, but he was his son nonetheless. He would raise him as a Stark… as his heir to Winterfell.

“Home is not a place.” Cregan says. “A home is what you make it… My place may be in Winterfell, but it is not my home if you and my son are not with me.”

She sighs. “I’m no lady, Cregan.”

“I know… and I don’t care.”

“I will not watch you marry a noble while I am your whore that you force to work in your castle and fuck at night.”

“I would never ask that of you.” Cregan says, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. “Starks are honorable men. You will be my wife, and my son will be my heir. I will kill any man who ever dares harm you again.”

She stares at him as he continues. “I needed an excuse to come back out here… If I told them I came out here to get you to lead the Northern army, then it raised less suspicion. But, I care no longer. I only care about you.”

“What if I say no? That I won’t join you?” She asks.

“Then I would accept.” He looks at his son. “All I ask is you let me bring him.”

She looks at their son. Cregan continues. “He will never know a cold night, he will learn to fight among men, he’ll have a full belly every time he goes to sleep, he’ll be respected by all those around him… and if you came, so would you.”

She looks back at Cregan. “He will join you.”

Cregan closes his eyes, her hand resting against his cheeks.

“As will I.” He opens them to look at her again.

“Truly?” She nods. He laughs, breathlessly, pulling her in for a deep hug. His fingers weave into her hair, holding her tightly against his chest.

“I will fight for you as well.” He pulled away to look at her.

“No.” He says. “No, I need you with me at Winterfell.”

“Cregan… A queen! You honor me, choosing me to lead your Northern army.”

“I don’t want you to.” He says. “What of our son? You could be gone for years… You could not return.”

She laughs, “My Lord Stark… You’d be a bloody fool to think any man could kill me.”

“This is hardly a war between men, my girl. This is a war between dragons, and none will ever be so bloody.”

“Cregan… I am of the free folk, which means I will always be free. Being free means I have the choice to fight for you… and for a Queen.”

———

Cregan returned to Winterfell a week later, carrying his babe in his arms on his horse, with a wilding woman behind him.

His maester was bewildered at the sight before him. “My Lord… Who is this babe you carry?”

“Maester, this is my son and this woman here is his mother… and my betrothed. She will be leading the graybeards in the war. Call upon wet nurses and maids to help foster our son while she is gone.”

“A-At once, My Lord.” The maester stumbled over his words, giving the wildling one last look before going to do his task.

Later that night, her and Cregan sat in his chambers. His lover couldn’t help but explore and ask questions about everything in the castle.

“What is this?”

“A pen and paper.”

“What does it do?”

“Well, you tell the maester a message and then he writes it down and gives it to a raven to send off.”

“And this?”

“A tub.”

“What does it do?”

“Bathes you.” It went on like this for hours, but he didn’t care. He was glad to share with her his way of life. Her naiveness at noble life was sweet.

When they cuddled up in his furs in their now shared bed, she laughed with giddiness. “Ask them to bring more.”

“My love, you’re under four bear pelts and the hearth is at full flame, you’re going to get hot.”

“Hot?”

“Warm, my girl. Too warm.”

“I don’t care. This is all so exquisite. You should’ve brought me here much sooner, you know.”

Cregan simply smiled, looking down at their son in his arms. “Did you have any names in mind for him?”

She hums, resting on her elbow to face them. “Cregan is quite a handsome name.”

“We can name give him a Stark name if you like mine.”

“Like what?”

“How about… Benjen Stark.”

“Benjen.” She whispered, sitting up and touching her son’s dark locks. “I love it.”

Her and Cregan locked eyes, staring at each other in silence. “You don’t have to go, my love.”

“I do.” She says, cradling Cregan’s cheek.

“I wish to marry you, make you Lady Stark of Winterfell.”

“I will be your… Lady… when I return.” She says, unsure of the proper term to use.

He laughs, “Wife. You will be my wife. I can have the maester teach you to read and write upon your return.”

“Truly?” She asks. “Like stories?”

“Stories, history, anything my betrothed wishes to read she can.”

“Betrothed?”

“It means we’re to be wed, at some point.”

She presses her forehead to Cregan’s. “I can’t believe I am here.”

“Neither can I, my love.”

He presses a gentle kiss to her lips, and they fell asleep like that, Benjen full and warm in his father’s arms.

Cregan and his love were only able to share a few nights together before it was time for her to march with the graybeards.

“You are strong, my lady. Command these men like you did me, and they’ll follow you anywhere.”

Cregan lifted her onto her horse, and she nervously settled into the saddle. He stepped onto his own, Benjen tightly secured to his chest as the babe was to his mother when Cregan stumbled back upon them.

She took her hand in his, and he pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Come back safe to me, my girl.”

She smirked, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to kill some Southerners.”

“Goodbye, my sweet boy.” She says, touching Benjen’s hair one last time.

“Take care of our son, Cregan.” He nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

“I have a gift for you before you go.”

His master at arms came to him, handing him the freshly made dire wolf crest. He pinned it on her chest, and she looked down, tracing her fingers over the craftsman ship.

“You are a Stark… from this day, until your last day.” He said. She looked at Cregan, pride in her face.

“I’ll make you proud, my Lord Stark.”

He handed her the dagger, the very thing that brought them together. “I know you will.”

With that, she turned and slowly began to leave with her horse.

She turned to look back at them. “By the way, I killed your horse last year.”

Cregan’s smile faded, but then she laughed, and he couldn’t help but laugh too. She turned back around, and he looked down at his son, his beautiful little pup. The babe’s big gray eyes staring back at the ones he inherited from his father.

Cregan rode the opposite direction from her. He turned again to look at her one last time, and she turned to look at him too.

He smiled at her, letting the tears fall. She smiled back. He watched her ride the opposite way, and she watched him as he rode back to Winterfell until they could no longer see each other.

He would miss her greatly, but he knew she would return. This parting would not be forever, for they knew that they were bonded by love, seperated by only distance this time. No wall, no duty, no pain would ever come between them again.

He couldn’t wait for her to get back to them so they could start their life together.

Forever.

[nereidprinc3ss]

okay i know this is kind of a specific request but can you do something with professor Spence and uni reader where they get into a spat and argue bc she did something stupid and he gets mad and she’s like “noooo pls don’t be mad i hate when you’re mad at me I’m sorry🥺” bc she literally cannot function knowing she let him down (me with everybody) but he’s like super stubborn and goes all closed up and quiet so that he doesn’t like blow up on her until she finally says like “pls talk to me” and he’s all pissed and like “hell na bitch u crazy!🗣️‼️” but then later he’s like “it’s ok i love u but neva do that shit again ho” then they make up and it’s good again 🎀 ok i explained that so poorly (and comedically if i may) but i hope u get it and pls make it SO DRAMATIC bc I live for drama! like she steals test answers or something or does something that could like get her kicked out of school OR him lose his job 🤔 sigh … idk I’m leaving now. Also i LOOPOOOCE ORRKGOOVI love your fics. Luv em

hey girl (gender neutral) this made me laugh bc genuinely sometimes i write spencer so ooc that is what he sounds like. and i'm not sorry! anyway this is potentially a vyvanse fueled nightmare but i wrote it and i'm posting it MY BLOG MY RULES BITCHESSSS!!!! but genuinely read the content warning LMAO this one got a lil kick to it

warnings/tags: ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, fem!reader, spencer and r get into a for real argument like they're mean to each other, spencer is a lil toxic but its resolved, emotionally neglects reader just for a teeensy second but then he's really nice and sweet again, discussion of his past addic+ion, gets fluffy because i'm not EVIL, gets suggestive at the end bc i am secretly evil.......

a/n: i don't know whats happening. this confuses me just as much as it confuses you. its 3 am in the morning. im gonna post nice happy things soon. Gootbye

“I cannot believe you right now. I don’t even—I don’t even know what to say.” 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say anything. It has nothing to do with you, and I’m not looking for your approval.” 

He looks up from where he’d been rubbing his temples, like you’re a headache, eyebrows raised and lips parted in indignant disbelief. 

“Oh! You’re not looking for my approval? Well thank god for that, because if you were one of my students I would recommend expulsion to the board.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I just said I don’t care about your opinion on this, much less your hypothetical opinion from some alternate universe where you have any authority over my education whatsoever.” 

“You distributed an answer key to half of your class! Objectively this is the kind of thing that gets people expelled. I don’t understand how someone so smart could do something so fucking stupid.” 

The words bite more than you were prepared for—but what hurts even more is how much he seems to mean them. In arguments past you’d both said things you didn’t mean, and then would immediately melt into I’m so sorry’s and the fight would resolve itself. Spencer’s clenched jaw and inability to make eye contact with you do not lend themselves to tender apologies. They cannot be attributed to miscommunication. 

You take a step closer to where he’s bracing himself against the countertop, arms crossed defensively in front of your chest. 

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. People cheat in college all the time.” 

Still no reply. His head shakes so minutely you wonder if you’re imagining it. Panic wells in your chest. 

“Please talk to me. I really hate when you ice me out. I’m sorry, okay? Just... please say something.” 

Finally, his eyes slide to you. They lack the fiery anger of moments ago but there’s not much softness there either. His normally warm gaze now feels too abrasive, too cold and sharp on your bare skin. You're exposed, much too soft for that grating look, and it feels like he can see everything that’s wrong with you. 

“Believe me when I tell you this. I am doing us both a favor by not speaking to you right now.” 

And then he’s leaving the kitchen—nothing but a breeze against your cheek and the sound of a door slamming to prove he was ever there. 

The apartment is silent. You stand in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. Spencer very, very rarely gets angry at you to the point of neglect, and you know he’s doing his best with what was modelled for him as a child and his tendency to feel things so deeply it’s nearly disabling; but that doesn’t make it hurt much less. It doesn’t make you feel less abandoned or alone.  

You’re sad, and you’re still pissed, and maybe you’re in just a bit of shock as you robotically move back to your nest of blankets on the couch and resume your schoolwork. What else is there to do? Unless Spencer is right—unless you really are about to get expelled after getting the answer key for an upcoming test from a friend, who then gave it to another friend, and so on. But is that really your fault?  

It’s a struggle to stay focused as your mind keeps drifting back to Spencer in the other room, those cruel words and that cold steely look in his eye that isn’t supposed to ever be aimed at you. It’s not a secret that side of him exists, but it doesn’t belong in this apartment. It’s not something he needs to use against you. He’s supposed to be on your side. But instead, he’d said you should be expelled and essentially called you stupid. And now you’re doing homework for a class at a school you may not even be a student of come Monday. 

---------------------------------------------------

The sound of the office door opening forty-five minutes later spikes your blood pressure and simultaneously makes your heart flutter, because no matter how mad at him you might be, Spencer is still Spencer.  

He comes to stand behind the couch quietly, but you don’t acknowledge him. Maybe your typing gets a bit more aggressive, but aside from that you flat out reject his presence. 

“Can we talk?” 

You let him sweat for a minute as you finish your paragraph. 

“I don’t know, Spencer. Can we? Or are you not done with your temper tantrum?” 

“That is... well deserved,” he sighs, rounding the couch and tapping the bottom of your foot, signaling that he wants you to move your legs. You despise how automatically you comply, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid touching him as he sits next to you. There’s a long moment of silence, in which you resume typing. Spencer scoffs, leaning in slightly to peer at your screen. “Are you doing homework right now? I’m a complete asshole to you and you just... do your homework?"

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” you almost-yell, slamming your laptop shut and blinking away potential tears. “The only person I wanted to talk to called me stupid and fucking left!” 

The tears realize their potential once you admit the blunt truth. 

Spencer carefully moves your laptop and pulls you into his arms—and you just let him. There’s not much fight left in you. There wasn’t a lot to begin with. 

“I am so sorry, angel. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have yelled, I shouldn’t have said what I said, I shouldn’t have walked away. I overreacted.” 

“Yeah, you really did,” you cry, allowing him to run his hand over your hair. “Why did you do that? Why were you so fucking mean?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he responds, betraying his own anxieties, and a new, unwelcome sense of trepidation slithers through your veins. 

“I was wondering that, too. Even as I was saying it, I knew—I knew it wasn’t what I wanted to be saying. And then I was in the other room and I wanted to be out here, and I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t. But I think I was just scared. Which—I know, doesn’t really make sense, but... I think about when Ethan dropped out of the academy, and ended up doing heroin in New Orleans for three years, and I think about when I almost left the BAU because I was so convinced I’d never get clean that I didn’t even want to anymore, and—and the idea of you losing your education and your direction like that terrified me, probably unreasonably, and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.” 

“But I’m not like you or Ethan. You don’t have to worry about that. Even if I... even I do get in some sort of disciplinary trouble. That’s a road you don’t have to worry about me going down, ever.” 

He fixes some unseen wrinkle on your shirt.  

“Yeah, but, remember... I used to not be like me or Ethan either. Do you think twelve-year-old Spencer would have ever even considered that of the infinite realities and universes which exist, he was living in one where someday he’d be shooting up in the bathroom at work?” 

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head and burying your face in Spencer’s shoulder. The sound is more of a plea for him to be less descriptive than an answer to his rhetorical question. It’s still much easier for him to talk about that part of his life than it is for you to have to actually imagine it. You didn’t know him then, but you’ve seen pictures, and you know Spencer now, and it’s... it’s just too much. Too sad. 

“Okay,” he agrees soothingly, still playing with your hair. “I digress. My point is that literally anything is possible, and while it’s not necessarily likely, I more than anyone know that anxiety even over the most improbable of things is never completely unfounded.”  

You sniffle in response, too emotionally and physically exhausted to contribute much to the conversation by this point. Thankfully, Spencer can talk for two. An idiosyncrasy which you love and comes in handy every once in a while. He can play his own devil’s advocate; in this case, you. 

“But that doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you. Ever. I truly, truly, sincerely apologize for that. I never want to hurt you.” 

You let the apology sink into your skin like a salve, soothing every abrasion those earlier words had left in their violent wake. 

After a few minutes, you find the energy to ask a question that might best remain unanswered. 

“Are you still mad at me?” 

He’s quiet for a beat, seemingly contemplative as his fingers trace abstract patterns in a language all his own on your arm. 

“I’m not thrilled. But you were right earlier. It’s not my place to be mad at you for something like that.” 

“Mm... it’s a little bit your place. You’re an actual professor.” 

He chuckles. 

“At an entirely different university.” 

“Thank god,” you laugh. “You and me at the same school would be such an HR clusterfuck.”

While it’s almost a serious matter, the smile in his voice is evident. 

“Yeah... I, uh... try not to think about it.” 

“Okay, but seriously. In your professional opinion. Am I fucked? Like, do I need to prepare an appeal and character witnesses or whatever?” 

Spencer sighs. 

“It was incredibly reckless and irresponsible. You should be ready for disciplinary pushback from the schoolboard if you get caught. That being said... because over sixty of you got a hold of the answer key, I doubt anyone is getting expelled, and even if they did, it would likely only be the TA and the student he gave the key to. It’s my tentative, professional opinion that you’ll probably be fine.” 

You relax slightly, allowing a tension you didn’t realize was there to shed like an old skin. 

“I’m not gonna cheat again,” you promise on an exhale. It’s simply too much risk for too little reward.

Spencer’s response is quiet, and comes much faster than you’d expected. 

“Oh, I know you aren’t. Because if you do, you’re going to have to worry about disciplinary action from me. And I’m not nearly as nice as the dean of your school, darling girl.” 

But something about the way he says it—a thinly veiled threat/promise contrasted by a sweet kiss to your forehead—doesn’t exactly make academic honesty look all that exciting.

[iwritefandomimagines]

FIRST AND LAST — PRINCE FRIEDRICH

masterlist

pairing: prince friedrich x reader

description: it has been tradition all season long that prince friedrich occupies your first and last dance of every evening. it is well known that his engagement is looming, so no man dares ask to take these dances from him. that is, until one clueless lord makes that awkward mistake.

warnings: pure fluff, tiny bit of jealousy from my sweet prince, but predominantly pure, tooth-rotting fluff !

“The season is almost over,” Daphne Bridgerton hummed, flitting her fan across her chest as you stood at the edge of the ballroom, “Do you think the prince might propose this evening?”

You laughed, watching as the prince eyed you from across the floor despite dancing with another young lady.

“I hope so,” you replied, pure happiness in your tone as you thought of the future you had discussed so extensively with the man who had won your heart with such ease, “Though he himself requested a long courtship. Oh, Daph, you should’ve heard him. He told me he was certain he was falling in love with me and wished to wed, but that he wanted to prolong our courtship to ensure I too was certain.”

“Gosh, Y/N, how romantic,” Daphne grinned.

“He is absolutely a dream,” you fanned yourself now too, growing flushed at the thought of just how deeply your feelings for the Prussian prince ran, “I of course told him I feel the same regardless, but he said that though he’d wed me in a heartbeat, it was fun to pretend we were still in the early stages of courting. And of course, I save every first and last dance for him and only him.”

Daphne was swooning at the prospect, and given her confusing situation regarding her ruse with the Duke, their sudden marriage, and how in love they quite clearly were, you were unsurprised that she was so excited to hear that your blossoming relationship was thriving so.

“Speaking of which, my dear friend,” she lifted your dance card from your wrist to see that as ever Prince Friedrich’s name graced the bottom of your card, “It appears you have danced with all others.”

As you looked away from her, you saw the prince smile in your direction, sending your heart into an absolute frenzy, “He appears to be on his way over!”

Before he could cross the floor, however, a gentleman you barely recognised obscured your view of the man you loved, stepping directly in front of you with a smile on his face.

“Lady Y/N,” the man bowed, “I am Lord Francis. I apologise for never making your acquaintance sooner, for my work and travels delayed my arrival in the Ton,” he took your hand to kiss its back, and as he leaned to do so you saw the prince behind him with a frown on his face, now mere meters away, “You are truly a diamond, and I should most certainly wish to know you more. You cannot imagine my relief upon seeing that you were yet unbetrothed. Might I have your next dance, my lady?”

You swallowed thickly, looking to Daphne for help but finding that she had slipped away amidst his little speech.

You were tempted to scoff at the man’s audacity to so abruptly ask of a dance at the end of the evening when he had chosen so late in the hall to introduce himself. And, of course, you were entirely uninterested.

Before you had the opportunity to respond, however, Prince Friedrich was at the man’s side.

“Ah, Lady Y/N,” he bowed, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it that lingered as he looked up at you and made you swoon, “Each time I see you in that necklace I am reminded why I selected it for you. It was made for you, to be sure.”

You giggled shyly, both feeling giddy around the man you loved and at the clear reason for his choice of words. He was here to assert his place, jealousy coursing through his royal blood.

“Oh your highness,” you curtsied, “Thank you again for the beautiful gift. I was wondering when you might return to share my last dance, as always. I do so look forward to it,” you flashed your dance card to the rather impertinent Lord Francis with a falsified frown, “I do apologise, my lord, but I have not yet shared my final dance with anyone but the Prince. And I do not wish to change that tradition.”

The gentleman scampered away without another word, leaving the prince to capture you in his arms and lead you to the dance floor.

“I am certainly glad to be rid of that fool,” he grumbled, and you reached up to run your thumb along his cheekbone soothingly, internally frustrated that the action would end up in Lady Whistledown’s writings the next day.

Your voice was barely above a whisper, “Oh my love, you needn’t worry. You know that if I could I would dance only with you the entire night.”

The prince was more than satisfied with this, a broad smile gracing his strong features as you continued the rhythm of the waltz you found yourself in.

“I am pleased to hear that, to be sure,” he beamed, “And once this dance is through, I hoped we might have a moment to talk. Perhaps on the balcony?”

You nodded softly, “Any moment with you, I could never deny myself.”

He smiled, and as the dance drew to a close you found yourself growing nervous.

Had this small moment of jealousy spurred on a proposal? Or perhaps he had always intended to propose tonight?

Perhaps it was not a proposal at all, and he just wished for some fresh air and a chance to chatter away from the eyes and ears of the ballroom?

You caught Daphne’s eye as you followed the prince outside, noticing her eyes widen in excitement as she too expected you to return to the ballroom engaged.

You bit your lip, allowing yourself to share her excitement for just a moment before nerves slipped into your mind again.

You reached the balcony after what felt like hours, with time seeming to progress in slow motion as you waited to hear what it was the prince wished to discuss.

“My dearest Lady Y/N,” he began, capturing both of your hands in his as his eyes twinkled down at you in the moonlight, “You must know that since we met, you have been the sun around which I revolve. You captured my heart the very moment I first saw you, and with every discussion of a future I have grown more certain that it is with you I wish to build a life, a home, a family,”

“Oh my dear prince,” you were certain you could taste blood, your heart pounding with anticipation as it truly sunk in just what was going on, “You must know that the feeling has always been entirely reciprocated. Every moment I have spent with you has been blissful, and I rather selfishly wish for an eternity of such moments.”

He shook his head, “It is not at all selfish, my dove. For it is what I wish for too. An eternity with the love of my life at my side, wherever we might find ourselves.”

You shared a brief moment of comfortable silence, staring into each other’s eyes as you could think about nothing but his gentle touch and romantic words.

He was everything you could’ve dreamed of in a man, and now here he was professing that he too was enamoured by you.

Even though he had made it quite clear how he felt before, in this very second everything felt as though it fell perfectly into place.

The true love you always dreamed of finding but never expected to… He was right here, about to ask for your hand and sweep you off of your feet.

“It is for this very reason, my love,” he began again, keeping his hold of your left hand but dropping to his knee in a split second, “That I find myself desperate to ask — will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“My gosh!” you exclaimed, nodding excitedly as he slipped the most beautiful ring onto your finger and rose to his feet again, “I would love to. I can think of no future more exciting than one as your wife.”

He kissed your hand again, now peppering kisses around the ring he had just given you, sending sparks throughout your body at his delicate touch.

“I cannot wait to begin our life together properly, as man and wife,” he grinned, reaching to push a stray hair from your face as he spoke, “Free of meddlesome gentlemen who have no regard for one’s prior commitment.”

“My darling, you truly had no need to worry,” you giggled, lifting your free hand to your mouth to stifle it a little, “He could not hold a candle to you, and I would never have given up my dance with you for him. I wish always for my first and last dance to be with you… And every dance in between.”

He pulled you flush to his chest now, spinning you softly to the faint sound of the orchestral tune still playing in the ballroom.

“Then my every dance is yours, my love,” he hummed, discreetly pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he spun you around, “Always and forever.”

“I love you,” you were truly in a state of pure bliss as you danced, choosing to ignore that you were most certainly being watched, “More than I can ever express.”

“I love you as such also, my future princess,” he replied, pausing your dance just to look at you intently again for just a second before he spoke, “And I shall spend our whole life showing you.”

“I am so incredibly lucky to have fallen in love with you,” you shook your head in disbelief, still smiling up at him.

“It is I who is lucky,” he disagreed, looking up into the night sky littered with stars, “And the stars in the sky are lucky to every day be graced with your existence too.”

“You flatter me, my love.”

“And I intend to continue to remind you how wonderful you are, my dove,” he practically whispered, dipping his head lower so that you could feel his breath fanning over your face, though not close enough to induce any more scandal than your balcony dance might already have done.

“It’s a pleasure to be forever your first and last dance… And I can only hope to be your first and last love, if you would let me. For you most certainly shall be mine.”

“You shall be mine too, my love. I am certain of it.”

———

ok fluffy af because i am currently in looove with the prince and idk where it came from but i had to write this once i had the idea!!!

if you have any requests (right now preferably bridgerton, djats or criminal minds) then please feel free to send them in and i’ll make a start this week!

also pleaaase let me know in comments/reblogs what you think!

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

[fleetingcalypso]

Greetings, dearest Calypso

I sincerely hope this message finds thee in good health, both mentally and physically.

I come forward to present thee with a quite curious request, as I'd be quite interested to see thy opinion on such situation.

Imagine, in a distant future, in which Henry Winter was able to finish college and didn't die and maybe he and reader were able to marry, they live in an isolated house, surrounded by nature, the horrors of the college years long forgotten, perhaps.

If he sees him and reader spending their lives together until the end, would he ask them for children? Would he be willing (and wanting) to start a family? How would he propose to the reader such Idea? Maybe some fluff, you do not have to add suggesting tones to it if you're not comfortable with it (ex. Implied baby-making, jokes about it etc), but I'd love to just see some fluff about them. Feel free to add the undertones you desire, as I noticed the exquisite subtle manipulation you write, I love it so much. I wish you a good day.

≋ Married life is hardly uncomplicated, especially when it has such a tumultuous history behind it. That's not to say it is all bad.

≋ Henry Winter x GN!Reader ≋

≋ Word Count: 5853 words.

≋CW: This fic wil be divided into two parts. This part feature GN!Reader, the second part will feature AFAB!Reader due to discussions of childbirth and pregnancies. Neither fic will include female pronouns for reader.

≋TW: Hallucinations, religious themes, light nsfw/suggestive themes, needle (weaving needle) mention.

After everything that transpired, lingering in Vermont was not a wise decision.

 Henry had been crystal clear about it: he wanted to leave as fast as possible, it didn’t matter where as long as it was far away from the place we both called home. It took hours upon hours of convincing, reasons upon reasons laid out in front of him for him to –although reluctantly– agree on graduating first; that same day he barely gave me enough time to pack a suitcase before speeding us to the airport, wouldn’t even tell me what flight we were boarding on just that we were going to have a fresh start. I haven’t seen nor spoken to my friends in years, no letters nor phone calls. I miss them dearly, but he is set in abandoning the past to corrode with time and eventually disappear, swept away by the wind.

He has changed in the many moons that have passed since our getaway: in a subtle almost sweet way he’s kinder, softer. He makes sure to tell me he loves me each day, though his honesty is rather ambiguous. He gifts me small treasures, one of a kind pieces, for no reason at all. When the Sun rises his fingers trace my face and when the Moon takes her rightful spot in the night sky he holds me to his chest, yet oftentimes throughout the day he feels as though he is stuck somewhere else with his mind, promenading in the meanders of a haunting history we know far too well. A history I cannot save him from, no matter how much effort I may put in making him happy. I am unable to save myself from it, as well, after all. Our souls are forever tainted, no matter how much we bathe and scrub our bodies.

We married at some point during our escape. He didn’t have a ring, but then again, he didn’t need to. One day he was on one knee, the next we were already wed. It was but a quick ceremony, at times I feel like perhaps it went by in the blink of an eye, but it’s okay. It’s what he thought would be the best option for us and at that point I didn’t have it in myself to argue anymore. It was during a rare, yet much needed, phone call home that we reluctantly confessed to his mother why we escaped in such a hurry: under the false guise of just wanting to cement our affections once and for all we fed one white lie after the other to an unsuspecting woman, that was just oh so happy her son had finally found love. We settled down by the countryside in a beautiful house that gives me flashbacks to Francis’ laugh, much to Henry’s dislike. These days I’m not sure he enjoys much else besides writing, locked in his study, forsaking the light of day and laying by my side in our marital bed as we share a cigarette.

Unfortunately ‘good things never last’ is a hymn I’ve grown to fully comprehend a lifetime ago, the very moment I heard the gut wrenching, bone chilling noise Bunny’s body made when it was done falling off that damned cliff. I still hear it sometimes: sitting on the porch of our villa – a, perhaps too kind, gift by my now mother-in-law – sipping a warm cup of tea, watching the birds fly back to their nests after a long day of losing themselves in the thrill of flight. As expected, Henry is in his study, surrounded by inks, papers and documents I do not much care about and for just a second my insubordinate psyche drifts to the past, to an echo of what once was laughter and academic conversations, now turned deafening silence and haunting guilt. It only takes a second, a fleeting moment of reminiscing for me to feel Bunny’s thud right next to me, on my porch. I do not dare move a muscle because I know he is watching me with glassy eyes, his glasses broken and his head turned at an inhuman angle. I don’t have it in me to sneak a peek and give into my hallucinations. Allowing him the pleasure of plaguing my reality, as well as my nightmares, would drag me too deep into culpability.

I’m sure Henry sees him as well, at times. He will never admit to it.

His voice snaps me out of my thoughts, yanking me back into a most heavenly and cruel present: Bunny is dead, my friends have drifted away, I am somewhere in the countryside alienated from society, but at last, I’m with my lover who cares deeply for me and handles me as if I’m made of crystal. “Love, come inside, it’s getting dark.” Wordlessly I follow my husband into our home. It’s an arduous task for the terrors to follow me when he takes my hand in mine ever so gently and guides me to safety, mimicking a knight in shining armor. My savior leading me through our own private pearly gates.

Dinner is eerily silent, the only noise being cutlery scraping against porcelain plates and ice cold wine being poured in glasses. Not a pet’s barking nor a baby’s crying to be heard. I shatter the quiet that has settled upon us with quite the daring observation, "Are you happy?" 

His arm stills mid-air as he’s bringing a fork to his mouth. The look he gives me through his lenses it's as if I am an open book and he could recite every single one of the inked paragraphs inside of me. 

I insist, "Are you?" And finally he sets his fork down. I hold his attention in my shaking palm. His shoulders are stiff and there’s a small muscle in his jaw that twitches before he speaks and his voice fills the calm of our dining room.

"I am."

"Despite us only having each other, with not a single soul around for miles?"

“Where is this coming from?” I don’t miss the subtle accusative tone buried in what appears to be an innocent question, only a fool would be capable of ignoring it. His gaze pierces right through me, it renders me unable to ever look away, the ocean blue of his eyes is a sea I would gladly choose to swim into until my limbs no longer could keep me afloat and my lungs were filled with him, only with him.

"I'm not too sure," I lie with not a little difficulty, it all tastes far too bitter on my tongue. It’s a shame I’ve grown rusty, to speak falsehood had become a habit when it was to keep everyone in line for him, "I suppose I was wondering about our future. Are we to bury ourselves in our solitude for the rest of our lives?" The absence of our friends is more than noticeable, Bunny's absence even more than that. Living this way, pretending we did not murder our friend and abandon the rest to their fate is an herculean feat. 

"What if I said yes? What if that's precisely what I want? For us to only have one another, for the rest of our lives, until our home is but dust and ruins with the only thing remaining of us being our bones entangled with each other in one final hug. Wouldn't you like that?" 

It’s a dead end, I can feel it coming as my throat goes dry, this seemingly sinless query is rapidly morphing into an intricate maze that could rival Daedalus’ craftsmanship, a maze where I am the vicious minotaur, unable to find any sort of exit, unable to see the stars once again. As for Henry, he is my hero, my Theseus, ready to slay my beastly need for freedom with his own desires. I can see it already, how my horned head is thrown out on the sand of Crete, how he’d sit by my side and two pairs of eyes would admire the starry sky.

“I would. There’s nothing I’d love more, believe me,” I  pleased him, the imperceptible tilt of his lips’ corner tells me so. Stroking his ego has become second nature, he’s a servant to his own hubris, shackled to it, an eager prisoner, “But I feel… lonely. It is lonely here.” 

It’s not loneliness. It’s jealousy and it eats at the extremely rotten core of my being, ruining me from the inside out. Each waking day I spot the crows, stopping by my window and accepting any breadcrumb I offer them. They come and they go, occasionally bringing some presents for me along with their presence: small things such as acorns, nuts, buttons, mostly rubbish that I treasure in a box in the closet along with our friends’ letters. There’s four or maybe seven crows that keep coming back. Henry is more of an ornithologist than I’ve ever been, he’d be able to differentiate all of my feathered companions in just a quick glance.

Take me with you, my friends, I silently pray while my beloved sits in front of me, no sign of a reply falls from him, gift me nightmare colored wings and welcome me in the heavens alongside you, I’d inconspicuously blend in with you, harbingers of doom, and fly in the sky away from this gilded birdcage and into the open world. 

The crows are not the only ones I send my pleas and supplications too, more than once my thoughts have sent me to ask the Queen of the Gods for help, for the magnificent lady Ἥρα Τελεία to bless this union with the fulfillment which I feel is nowhere in sight regardless of it all: we have a beautiful home with an even more beautiful scenery around us, enough money for Henry to forfeit being a writer for the rest of his life and still live a lavish life, a diamond ring worth a small fortune sits on my ring finger and yet, it all feels empty. We are happy, but feeling happy and feeling fulfilled rarely meant the same when it came to my dearest love.

When his lips slightly move apart I feel time stop and I can almost predict what his responses are going to be: “Aren't I enough company for you?”

“You knew what you were getting into when you married me.”

“We’ve done the impossible and built something perfect, my muse. I’m sure you’re just tired, why don’t you get ready for bed?”

Unforeseen words flow out of his mouth like an angels’ choir, they lure me into a sempiternal cocoon of silk and love, he speaks with a hint of an ephemeral promise when he drowns all my expectations in the ocean that is my affections for him: “I have been neglecting you, haven’t I?” He’s enthralling in the way he accepts his fault without his spine bending from his wrongdoings. He doesn’t seem to be surprised by my nodding along, the softness in his gaze is a one way ticket to my heart threatening to jump out of my chest.

“Come here,” He pats his leg and I rise to reach my altar, my preacher and my holy communion blended together as one being. The disrespect I throw at his sanctity when I defile his hallow personal space and find my seat on his lap is all forgiven by his grace, “How long have you felt this way, my bird?” His lips are resting against my temple, I can feel the vibration in his chest with every syllable, “Tell me.”  I hope he will absolve me of all my sins if I let myself loose in his confessional, I just need to find it in my soul to bear myself to him, fears and secrets and all. 

“I’m unable to exactly pinpoint when these feelings have begun planting roots in my mind, but I could estimate around a couple years after we appointed this building as our home. Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven’t felt it as well, Henry, I beg of you. We have banished ourselves from any chance at a regular life. I do not feel alive, I feel as though I am merely surviving day by day, trying to find balance while walking on a violin string fluctuating between the fiery pits of hell and a spot of honor behind the pearly gates. I love you. You are my greatest joy, the very air that I breathe, but it is not enough, not nearly. I miss what we used to be: young, careless and perhaps too proud to face the consequences of our actions, but I suppose that’s what youth is all about, after all. My life is slipping from right between my fingertips and the more I pretend everything is fine, the harsher reality hits me.”

He sits soundless, letting me pour my heart out. He doesn’t dare interrupt me until my eyes meet his and for my bravery in speaking my mind he rewards me with his palms cupping my face and his lips pressing against mine in what could perfectly be the gentlest kiss we’ve ever shared in our lifetimes. Time stops abruptly, the critters in the woods around our home freeze in their movements, the Earth ceases her rotation just for us to live in the moment. The only thing that assures me I'm in the land of the living is the thumping in my chest.

When the time for softness is over and he pulls away, for a moment I wholly believe I am not human, instead my being is but an amalgamation of disappointment and greed, stitched together by celestial barbed wires of desperate need. His brow furrows as he shifts his vision lower to inspect the golden band around my finger, surely going over my monologue word for word, searching for where he- where we went wrong, when all the flowers we have meticulously watered began wilting and losing their petals. “I can see why you’d feel this way,” I hang onto the promise of something more, I desperately grab with both hands the rope thrown to me that promises me some comfort, some hope, a smidge of light at the end of the tunnel.

It never comes.

He pulls me up to my feet prior to him standing as well, his plate is still half full on the table. I can’t imagine I’ve drained his appetite so harshly. “I am retiring to my study. There’s some documents I care to translate. I’ll join you in bed once I’m done, my bird.” Were it another day I would have gone along with it

“What about what I care for, Henry?”

This conversation can’t be over so fast, it just can’t. I’ve spent God knows how long feeling wrong, feeling ashamed for desiring more than what we have. He can’t do this to me, not after I abandoned Vermont, my friends, everything I felt familiar behind to follow him. Swallowing the ever growing resentment down my throat I keep my head up. “Your translations can wait another day. It’s just ink and paper, I am your spouse, damn it. I open up to you and you give some bullshit reply that means nothing at all.”

He says nothing. He doesn't give me the satisfaction of a fight, the roaring flame of passion in yells, screams and shouts, it would be the one thing needed to make me feel alive right now. The temptation to empty my lungs onto him with sentences I could never take back is strong, stronger than me, but just before I can say a word his hand softly pats my head, and he's gone out the kitchen in a matter of seconds, the muffled clicking sound I hear makes me aware of the fact that, as he said he would, he's in his study. The only inhabitants of our kitchen are me, our unfinished dishes and my dissatisfaction.

Not much later, when the food that I had lovingly prepared for us sits in the fridge and my hands are wrinkly from scrubbing at plates and cutlery I grant myself a moment of respite, the house is too silent for my taste, it is only me and Henry, at the end of the day. It’s an invisible pull, the one tugging at me as I make my way towards our piano and carefully lift the fallboard. He's never looked at it more than once, always and forever letting me be the one to delight in touching it so gracefully, so lovingly. It’s a familiar melody, the one I settle on playing, one I had played for my friends so many times that I barely require a music sheet anymore. It starts off soothing, soft and delicate, almost giving an idea of fragility, and despite knowing the story this composition belongs to I can’t help but create my own narrative: a caged nightingale, trapped in the biggest, most lavish golden cage the universe has to offer. It sits quiet and pretty, singing its best songs, chirping the most melodic of tunes just for the outside world to hear. 

As I began caressing the instrument with romantic touches, it didn't take long for softness and delicateness to hide away in shame with the way my fingers glided across the keys, much like a mad person. My back slouches, my body begins swaying along with the rhythm as my hair falls into my face, I’m transfixed by the tale I’m crafting, the slow and solemn notes are the perfect background for my little bird’s development. It all serves as the perfect catharsis to my inner torment.

It’s tired, it incessantly flies and flies from side to side into his mammoth sized cage, with the bars too close together to even attempt squeezing through them. The illusion of freedom is all it knows. Its poor wings, battered and bruised are worn out from slamming against the bars of its enclosure.

A warm hand resting on my shoulder makes my fingers slip and abruptly makes me recover from my reverie, putting an end to my story and making my notes slur together.  “Enough of Swan Lake,” Henry’s aggravated voice comes from behind me, “I can’t focus with you making a racket over here.” Very well, his wish is my command: enough of Swan Lake. Time for another song, then. Pressing with force on the piano’s keys I flaunt my day of wrath to my spectator. Dies Irae. If he refuses to listen to my words, he will have no other choice than to listen to my playing and what I am attempting to convey through it. I let my lip curl in a carefree smile as my body shrugs off his touch, the way my limbs dance across this ivory sea with specks of obsidian almost hypnotizes me into a delusion of change. It rekindles the flame inside me I so foolishly believed had been snuffed out. 

I recall Charles one summer we spent at the lakehouse, performing Chopin halfway through a glass of whiskey, most likely his second or third one. I wondered if by looking at me in this moment Henry could see what we had left behind to rot in the shadows. If he could see white flashes of Charles bent over the piano, of Camilla, of Francis, of Richard and of Bunny. I hope he sees everything he forced me to abandon and I hope the remorse grips his heart so tight it burns marks on it. The satisfaction taking over me is otherworldly. 

The fallboard barely misses my fingers when he slams it shut, sending me back in a flinch. There’s no need for me to turn my head to feel how livid he is as I abandon the plush piano seat, smoothing down the folds in my clothes. The room is filled with silence more meaningful than the loud melodies I lost myself in. “You used to enjoy it when I played,” I comment, as the back of my hand caresses his cheek for little over a couple seconds until my wrist is in his frustrated grasp.

“I am trying to work. It is challenging to do so when you’re all I can hear.”

“Is that truly my fault?”

With a slow and mechanical gesture he kisses my knuckles, the warmth of his sigh hits my skin, “I am trying to work, my bird.” He insists, with a warning hidden in his tone. I know better than to poke a sleeping bear. 

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Join me in bed once you’re done.” I echo the words he had so thoughtlessly sent my way earlier and not awaiting his dismissal I vanish from his sight and he makes no movements to stop me. What I would give to have eyes on the back of my head and peek at his reaction, to be a fly on the wall of the room spying on his every twitch. In spite of me, when our mattress dips under the weight of his body, I burrow my head into his chest and he wraps his arms around me. 

“My bird,” He purrs as the moonlight sneaks us pecks through the window, “I understand you’re upset,” I’ve exhausted all my replies for the day, I love him and I hate him. I want to build him an altar and I want to leave him adrift at sea. The heat of the scalding blood running in his veins is all I can feel when I slide my hand under his shirt. I need to know he’s here, alive and well. His heart beating under my palm is more spellbinding than any of the melodies I could ever learn. And while with time, my memories could very well choose to set fire to all the scores sitting in my mind, his heartbeat is something I’ll safeguard forever. I correct him, “I’m very upset.” A small noncommittal noise escapes him, his gentle hands tilt my head up, resting his thumb on my chin, “You're very upset,” He repeats, resting his forehead against mine, his glasses long forgotten on his nightstand, “Is there anything I can do to make you any less upset?..” It's impossible for me to evaluate his sincerity with the way his lips move across my jaw. The language of love is one he’s fluent in, more than Greek, Latin, Italian or any other tongue his polyglot self has become educated in.  It’s impossible to come up with a solution to my aching troubles, not when I’m wondering if I’ve pushed him too far, not when he’s feeding me all the attention I’ve been so starved of. I soak it up like a sponge, forfeit any sort of cutlery when I sit at his table and gobble up the fruits of his passion. The bedding rustles when he rolls onto his back, pulling me along with him until my thighs are on either side of him. He’s at my mercy: under me, strong hands grabbing onto my hips while my weight presses him into the mattress. The fabric of his nightshirt barely wrinkles under my palms. He is shackled to me and to what I want to say.

“You could listen to me, for starters.” “I am listening now, aren’t I? And what I hear is that my precious songbird is unhappy with the comfortable life I provide for us, for what reason I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“I simply want more, Henry.” It’s pathetic. I sense my own misery radiating in waves, enough to desiccate every single leaf in the verdant expanse of trees around our home and drain any nearby body of water. Would my friends grieve my sinner’s love if they were to witness it? Would they send compassionate glances my way? Time has molded me into an unstable clay sculpture of what I used to be. The marble carved in the shape of an impeccable scholar, trustworthy friend and loving companion has rusted due to the corrosive tears it keeps crying, it sits hidden behind a curtain of rubies, anxiously waiting for the day something will be able to restore it and place it back on the podium of honor it deserves.

He shifts his hands, tracing my body with his midas touch, making me golden with each touch and caress, “Well then, what is your idea of more?” He questions, making my mouth go arid. What is my idea of more? I do not know. Anything would do: not having to pretend the crows are my friends, not having to live hidden away in a remote part of the world, not having our friend’s specter occasionally manifest itself to me. I clench my teeth, holding back the tsunami of truth I wish to unleash on him. I've concealed so much from him it’s beginning to wonder if he barely knows me at all.

His touch travels until it finds my forearms, my wrists, my palms and his fingers are quick to intertwine with mine in his second plea for me to open up, only now he seems eager to fix me, to drip molten angels’ halos down the cracks of my wretched existence and make me whole once again. “I don’t know.” He scoffs, turning his head to the full moon sitting proud in the grand expense of the inky sky. I allow myself to slump back onto the mattress next to his supine figure, “I don’t know. I want to soar the skies with wings of wax and feathers, I want to dive in unknown waters, I want to capture the brightest stars and store them in a jar only to set them free the second I tire of them.”

“And am I included in these fantasies of yours?”

“You could be.”

I want to reach out to him. I want to hold him tight in my arms, I want to place my lips on his and taste tobacco and whiskey, I want to place our hands side by side and admire the matching rings around our fingers. The way he clicks his tongue in what I assume is disapproval sends me from one extreme of love to the other: I want to show him I can survive without him, I want to make him admit that what’s keeping me alive isn’t his affections but my own devotion to life, I want him to gaze up at the sky and spot me moving through the clouds.

In our early adulthood we were nothing if not masquerading young godlings with the world at our fingertips, high on our egos and drunk on our grandioseness, we could have swam laps in the pungent, bitter wine pressed from our self-importance. Not one living being could have pierced the shields we’d sanctimoniously put up.

The conversation has found its death, maybe it has never even lived in the first place and I’ve poignantly imagined the whole thing. A quick funeral is hosted for it in the recesses of my mind while my eyes close and I shift into a more comfortable position to sleep.

“I love you,” He whispers, turning his back to me. I fail to reciprocate his cloying words before darkness swallows me whole. As we sink into sleep our bed feels the same as an oversized casket, too comfortable and welcoming for my own good and I feel a little closer to Bunny than I ever was during his living time.

My dreams are a blur, flashes transcendentally weaved together with threads coming from my past, my present and my future to form a tapestry I’d rather unravel or light ablaze. The needle passes through mysterious hands, each one adds a new row to it, the picture it wants to depict is still unclear and the need to discover it urgently fades the moment I shift my attention upwards, to the entity carefully and meticulously weaving the story of my life.

I’m met with a boyish grin and a messy mop of blonde hair. An unforgettable burst of laughter rings in my ears, time freezes everything including the blood in my veins.

The wind is knocked out of me as I jolt awake, pushing myself upright and grasping at my chest. I am robbed of speech just like that. All it took was for a dead man to spot me and offer his joyful stare. Undeterred by the years, his face sits right behind my eyelids, waiting for the moment I let him back in. This time when a hand finds rest onto my shoulder I lean into it. 

A warm, mellifluous murmur wraps around me, trying to push me out of my sweven, acting as my favorite nepenthe. “It’s over. It’s all over. There’s nothing to worry about now.” Nothing it’s over, nothing has ever been over since everything has begun. I haven’t known peace since that grand time under the moonlight, when we were stripped of all inhibitions, when we let our souls jump out of bodies and foregone our egos, when we had everything and nothing, when entire hours, weeks, months, years went by in less than an heartbeat,when all of us got lost in a frenzy beyond euphoric. There was a joie de vivre about it all that didn’t fade away, not even when we plummeted back into reality: wounds, cuts, dirt and leaves all over us, dry blood smeared onto our improvised chitons and fresh blood on Henry’s hands. The first drops to be shed but unfortunately not the last.

He attempts to soothe me as if I were a weeping babe, he brushes my hair away from my forehead, he holds my clammy hands until my breathing pattern somewhat resembles a normal person’s and it’s these kind of soft moments that make me condemn him, how much I need his touch and his soft words is proportionate to how much I wish to run free, a rabid dog chewing the string of its leash until it breaks.

The sheets suffocate me, the sun filtering in the room blinds me, my own flesh feels as though it has been lit on fire and my heart is pumping within my ribcage enough to let me know I am alive, furthermore persistently calling attention to who does not have the same luck as I.

It is only when a strong, rich smell is all I can inhale that I notice a veiny hand offering me a glass of I assume can only be whiskey, Henry had left me alone to fill it and I hadn’t even noticed it. “Drink,” He says sternly, resting the cold edge of the short tumbler against my lips, “It’ll help.” Swiftly, the amber liquid is sent swirling down my throat, effectively grounding me with its flavors dancing onto my tastebuds, a woodsy taste with a touch of caramel and orange is all I can taste. The burning yet sweet sensation sends me into a wheezing coughing fit that efficiently distracts me from the dark vision I witnessed in my dreamland. It doesn’t last long to my luck, though this stubborn, delicious aftertaste will only stick with me until my teeth are brushed. 

“Thank you,” I breathe out once I regain control over my lungs and most importantly my whole self, “Thank you, I needed that.” With what could perfectly be the heaviest sigh of my life, my head drops into my palms. There’s so much to say but not a single sound makes it out of me. Henry doesn’t prod yet, I don’t offer explanations, a groan flees me as I recall yesterday’s events and in one hopeless effort to put it past me I gulp down the rest of the whiskey under my husband’s concerned gaze. 

“I desperately needed that,” I reiterate as soon as the coldness of the glass leaves my lips and he does not hesitate in pulling it out of my hands, setting it onto the ebony nightstand with a quiet thud. “I can see that,” he notes with a hidden layer of worry rooted in his words. “You’ve been restless these past few nights.” Oh, how I love his voice, especially at times like this, when he’s just woken up and it’s deeper than ever, gruff and penetrating through my chest straight for my heart. More than once it has charmed me during late nights or early mornings, while we were drunk and when we were sober, his gravelly whispers are invisible tattoos on my neck.

“Ah, so you’ve noticed.” I should have imagined that my tossing and turning would have been caught by his all seeing eye. 

To my surprise, he smiles, as much as a subtle crooked grin could be counted as such. “As you’ll come to learn, my bird, I notice everything happening under my roof.” I could argue with that, but I’ve been drained of all energy. The ponderous load of my weary bones leaves no room for strength as my body gracelessly flops back against the mattress. He continues, speaking softly while pushing away the tendrils of hair that fell onto my face, “I doubt you’ll be falling asleep anytime soon. That seemed to be quite the harrowing dream to evoke such a reaction.”

“I’ll live.” 

He nods, “I’m sure you will,” his eyes, though caring and worried, feel so far away. Stuck in a distant land, perhaps revisiting memories of a barely forgettable day in class, he turns to where a stream of warm sunlight kisses fill the room with brightness and the tweeting of birds provides us with an idea of a fabricated, peaceful liberty, just outside of our reach, waiting to be grasped in our trembling hands.

They say that such an innocent thing as a butterfly’s wings flapping and creating the most imperceptible movement in the air, could cause a deadly typhoon on the other side of the world. It chants the notion that everyone and everything in the world is inevitably connected, that one small, insignificant occurrence can lead to something nearly impossible to control, a significant change in the way fate is realistically supposed to go. 

This time when Henry abandons me in our bedroom to get his day started it doesn’t go unnoticed, and I spend this precious moment thinking of how I got here. I peruse the story of my life backwards, a book beginning with the ending and, of which the conclusion depicts the starting point of it all: bright, rivaling the sun with it’s shine and expecting nothing if not greatness is my story, a painting I immortalized with my own hands adding a stroke of color each day. Amidst all the dazzling radiance, discovering the origin of where it all began to grow dull and lacking glow takes a formidable effort, and even then, I find not the faintest sliver of an answer.

The ‘butterfly effect’ that dragged me down this path remains an unknown mystery to me, possibly remaining as such until the end of time.

[sonicboomrevisited]

I return from The Land of No Internet Connection to quite the discussion huh?

Here's what I got:

For one, any beach symbolism is heavily tinted by however the beach is currently being depicted. As we see in the panels, the ocean seems pretty calm at the time; though I guess you could argue that's to be expected because Seaside Island just has generally nice weather and that's more of a result of this place replicating Sonic's memories. But I believe every part of an artwork is worth analysing through symbolism even if there is a feasible Watsonian explanation!

The thing that stands out to me the most is that beaches are places where two worlds meet. Land and ocean, gently shifting into one another; this ties a lot with beaches symbolizing new beginnings! Whether you are about to set sail, or just landed, it means you ended a phase and are about to start a new one. It makes so much sense to start the chapter there, given we are supposed to have just left the physical world, to land in this more, *conceptual (?)* place. It even tracks that the way we first find Sonic is reminiscent of a castaway, he was forcefully taken out of the physical world and set on this new land.

EXTREMELY IRONIC GIVEN THE CIRCUMSTANCES, beaches are also characterized for signifying relaxation and freedom, the literal opposite of what we got going on here. Then again, perhaps it could make sense if whatever took Sonic here wanted to inspire those feelings, perhaps to keep him from noticing something was off? Not that it worked all that well.

And since I am here already, sunset. ANOTHER symbol of ends and beginnings, just like beaches and autumn. Hell, it shares in common with the latter that both of them are emissaries of a time of darkness, danger and uncertainty, but despite signifying peril, this thing they warn about, is also often meant to symbolize a hardship that you have to overcome to become stronger.

I also cannot help but notice the fact we have quite the amount of liminal spaces stacked on top of each other here. A beach, during sunset, in autumn. DAMN, our blue blurr is in for something!

— DefinitionAnon

Your prose is inspiring, DA. A mad smile graces my lips every time you unravel the machinations we have devised. It makes me even more excited for you all to see what we have in store!

As a small lead for your brilliant deduction. I will remind everyone of the season 1 episode, "Just a Guy", in which Sonic and co are asked to imagine a "happy place" for themselves to escape to when they feel frustrated. Sonic choose a beach, did he not?

;)

[fisheito]

Crimson Phantom: the one that gfkion got me

Flashback to my old yakutier list: in the top tier, you'll notice that one of these is not like the others:

SO WHAT IS IT DOING THERE????????

Perhaps the reason Crimson Phantom R5 ranks so high is cuz of the PERSONAL HISTORY i got with it. The straw that broke the fish's back? the last drop of water that makes the cup run over and spill onto my socks MOST iRRITATINGLY?Hm. Maybe. Prepare yourself for the longest post yet:

Let me give you a timeline...

May 2022: start playing nuca during Mystical Banquet. First SSR is Endless Banquet Garu. I am intrigued by his musculature and adorable puppy eyes. July 2022: Idol Fest. I only care about Olivine. Captain Oli is the one SSR i get, and i am exceedingly happy. October 2022: Eerie Escapade. I pull for Garu, but get 3 Yakumos. I am bitter and ignore him entirely. November 2022: I don't have many SSRs, so I consider building my 2-star vampire yaku. This would involve unlocking his rooms for the stat boost. I ask Friend A, who also plays nuca, what his rooms are like. Friend A says "it was roleplay cringe but free' I respond, "i expected as much" and do not build up vampire yaku. December 2022: I get Friend B to start playing nuca. Since we live together, it is very easy to spark impromptu , impassioned nuca discussions in the middle of the kitchen. February 2023: Friend B discovers the main menu- Past Events and Galleria, most notably. Their eyes sparkle as they look thru the events they missed. "When did you start playing?" they ask. "Since THIS event." i say, pointing to the Mystical Banquet banner. "Can I see who you have?" I give them my phone. They express mild awe as they scroll. We continue life as usual. March 2023: Friend B gets Spring Chaos Edmond and i am JEALOUS. I say so- regularly and loudly. During one such griping session, this occurs:

Me: you JUST started playing . you cannoT be destroying me in the rolls like this!!! i'm getting NOTHING!! Friend: but you have so many units that I don't! That I didn't even have a chance to get!!! Me: none of them are Beautiful Bride Edmond??!!! Friend: BUT YOU HAVE VAMPIRE YAKUMO Me: ?????????? so??? Friend: GOD HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL AND I'M SO SAD I MISSED HIM Me: you can have him. he's not doing anything over here. i wanted garu!! Friend: YOU HAVEN'T EVEN UNLOCKED HIS ROOMS? THAT'S NOT FAIR. GIVE HIM TO ME. I'LL TREAT HIM RIGHT Me: i wish i could dude i wish i could

Please imagine the utmost confusion on my face the moment my friend equated Bride Edmond's beauty to Vampire Yakumo's.

Because,, from the moment I started nuca, I had zero interest in yakumo's general aesthetic. I was long soured off the vibes due to an extensive history of dating sims shoving a Certain Guy into my face:

"Certain Guy AKA 1st potential love interest is imperious red/black guy who's also kinda the True Ending so we're only giving you the illusion of free will and you will be disappointed by the lack of care we give to other routes compared to this guy. You wanted a character that wasn't him? HAHAHA nah that nobody dies in a ditch offscreen. You were SUPPOSED to fall in love with the 1st guy we showed you and find his attitude problems attractive for the rest of your blissfully coupled life." (The freshest wound at the time was Nobunaga from that Specific branch of the ike series)

Butbutbut!! Yakumo is not imperious??? He's nothing like what you're describing??

Yes, dear reader, your assessment is fair. UNfORtUNATeLY, I'm a shallow ho and just the LOOK of his redblack skeleton embroidery was enough to repel me. The only thing that kept Yakumo in the Neutral zone was that his story self was Wibbly.

Looking at VAMPIRE yakumo, however... This was not wibbly. Here, with his hair slicked back and his torso seemingly widened and his generic bishonen-vampire-halloween-cosplay ...... it irked me. I did not like it. This look was everything I hated about those redblack domineering types haunting my past. The one interesting thing about yakumo (his wibble. his personality subversion of the aggro trope) and they GOT RID OF IT? Nah. I'm not into it. I refuse it out of principle.

I was steadfast in my dismissal of vampyaku for months.. But that was because I played alone- without outside influence.

Then that March conversation with Friend B happened.

SUDDENLY, SOMEONE introduces the POSSIBILITY that YAKUMO in THIS form can be attractive? Huh? Seriously? People think that?Legitimately never occurred to me. Unfortunately, my friend's words are in my head now.

During that convo (a convo which, unbeknownst to me, caused the first cracks in the healthy moderation i held for this game), i jokingly offered to unlock vampire yaku's rooms so my friend could watch them. A peace offering. "PLEASE!!!!!", they yelled,, with effusive sincerity.

Ah... well now I had to commit...

Determined to give my friend a Nice Thing, I threw excess knives at yakumo in my spare time. "I might as well unlock these rooms, and see how bland they are, and maybe sorta achieve vindication when I show them to my friend and they find out how Not Worth It vampire yakumo is compared to bride edmond" (I am fueled by spite and pettiness.)

thus, with time... ROOM 1 UNLOCKED!

Yakumo is wallowing again. Nothing new. He's handling the new cooking duties well, though. Good for him! Eiden is perceptive and wonderful, as usual... ah, eiden, beloved eiden.....i adore him and all the Sense he brings to these traumatised clan members ☺ Oop, there they go! initiating the cliche roleplay! Biting. Blood. Yep. Guess we're doing this.

AND NOW WE'RE GONNA TALK ABOUT ROOM 2

I was so self-satisfied when i unlocked R2. I mean, i wasn't going to show my friend until i unlocked EVERYTHING, but so far? From what I saw? this ain't it. this is SAD. this is... so very unsexy.

the only thing anchoring me to the present while watching this room was eiden's cheeky self. As Friend A remarked long ago, this was indeed cringe roleplay (but eiden is free).

I'm not very adept at voice reading/recognition, but i still felt something was up with yaku's voice. Meaning, it was different. he was REALLY laying it on heavy... It being the Role? Where was his tremulous soft voice? Naaaaaah, here in R2 we got yaku DROPPING octaves like they're on fire and affecting a drawl that...i think... is supposed to add to the seductive dangerous mood? i think? i'm really not good at parsing the horny from the Not fjkdrhgdu

with every extended vowel leaking thru yaku's fangs MY ANTI-NOBUNGA DEFENSES ARE BRISTLING yaku is REALLY playing it [Count Drakumo] up and he is NOT himself and, wait, he's spiralling? ooohhhhhh ok this is not good this is not fun he is not having fun

yes ok we've been over this my boner is dead killed by sadness that's just me not everybody is like me and i should let ppl like what they like MOVING ON

ROOM 3: OOOh Girl How they gonna react after THAT disastrous scene Woah!

Yakumo, angry???? Standoffish???? REfusing to be near Eiden? Interesting.... I mean. No! Not interesting! There's nothing interesting about vampire yakumo! Cliche as hell!!! Conventionally decent-lookin whatever-man is growling and hiding his face in a shadowy corner while saying things like "oh i'm a horrible monster .who could truly love me?!" and "stay away!! i'll only hurt you!!!"

Eiden: starts spouting truths about how the perception of "bad" and "undesirable" traits don't negate an entire person's positive traits and that someone's value can't be determined by such rigid thinking

Me: dammit eiden. stop making sense. i'm trying to hold a grudge here .............i'm starting to get hungry...

ROOM 4: OOPS I LOVE EIDEN AGAIN

I LOVE YOU EIDEN AND READING THIS ROOM MADE ME LOVE YOU EVEN MORE yakumo is, once again, spiralling in his self-hatred. i, on the other side of the screen, am getting weary. tbh, if you asked me to react to yakumo in real time, i would not know how to behave appropriately. i probably would have dismissed his concerns in some way (empty reassurances or bored ignoring).

but eiden??? ebeatutiiful emotionally UNconstipated FULL OF EMPATHY FIBRE eiden? candid... communicative... accepting yet not encouraging the dark thought patterns. . a self-aware king...

so when eiden gets in front of that mirror to demonstrate the self-talk "training":

I AM SO ENDEARED AND IM LO IBVE UHJIJM....

When Eiden gives yaku a chance to try, poor snakey doesn't know what to say. So Eiden whispers all these nice words and affirmations while standing behind yaku, expecting him to repeat them outloud THEN OF COURSE THE SILLY GUY ESCALATES TO HORNY AND I HAVE TO 🤣🤣🤣

ok, i'll begrudgingly admit... pretty cute interaction... and funny... if there's one way to win me over it's The Funny... how dare. how dare this room make me smile. I'm having a little giggle. Over a Yakumo room. THANKS eiden. For injecting humour into anything and making everything seem more tolerable...

After the practice run, Yaku ends up spilling his actual fears about his dual natures... but eiden insists that he can handle both.

yaku: if i think these dark thoughts does that make me a bad person eiden: well we all have layers n stuff so go wild yaku: if. if i. wanna lock u away all for myself and gnaw on your bones forever and keep u attached to my skin like an anglerfish absorbs mates into their flesh. will u hate me??? eiden: girl let your freak flag fly. i can take u ;););)

OKAY. SO MAYBE I CAN SORT OF SEE THE POTENTIAL FOR *NOT-AS-SAD* HORNY. THIS IS QUITE NICE (i comment mildly, gesturing to the emotional catharsis and deepening your understanding of another person). Now that yaku is emboldened in uh, being himself? all versions of himself? let's see how boinking is gonna go. hopefully it will be quite the departure from R2's struggle hours...

FUFIOKIN. ROOM 5: BANE OF MY EXISTENCE

The FIRST thing that strikes me when the room starts is

EIDEN YOU ARE SO HOT WHAT TH BRWOIJAOIEWFSKAESFKJLFEA?

INIPPL?

EIDEN'S HANDS? I'M BITING THEM? LET ME BITE THEM??? Yeah so i'm just staring at eiden displayed proudly in the mirror and a bird could probably land in my mouth with how it was hanging open, thinking, "yall know how to lewd your protagonist, nuca.... respect....." i'm distracted, but i need to move the room along so

.? ⚠! (ALERT NOISE) (ping!) the only yakumo room i've unlocked at this point is the OG SSR/Story H. i may have seen idol r2, too. so my current image of yakumo at this point is: -wet -crying -subby little baby

therefore, him saying he's GOING TO TEASE EIDEN causes my brow to upturn. 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 really? really, yakumo? YOU? are you even capable of doing that? can you do more than one thing [be wet baby]? i doubt it. these games always choose one niche for a character and stick to it... you caNNOT drift into switchery. try it i dare u (<- famously lesser-known last words)

eiden, in line with "i can take all of you", responds that he likes both. and btw, this ain't one-sided. he warns that he's about to weaponise bottoming again. if yakumo thinks he can just lead eiden around, lolollololo l good luck. my boy's gonna squeeze him dry (seriously. i have zero faith in yakumo's ability to stay in control of any situation)

OK! so! they're fukin *mundane hand gesture. rollin it along*

yakumo slows his roll and is all, actually, part of the fun is looking at you confused and needy :3 so he's going at a super lax pace and adjusting his dick angle and some other tactical penis feint that's edging eiden into horny frustration

as if i'm cheering on my fave racehorse, i start YELLING when eiden ~~snatches back the reins~~~~

WEAPONISE! 👏THAT!! 👏BOTTOM!!!!!!!👏🏭🎬ATTABOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!📣📣📣🔊📢🔊🎖🥳📣🔊📢

wait what ........HOW HAS HE NOT LOST IT? if eiden went off on me like that, uhhhhhhhhhhh hahahaha rest in pesis i'm losing immediately but... crybaby.... is holding it together? in fact, he somehow TAKES CONTROL AGAIN??????? THET F ????

idk guess i'm shocked with processing another side of yakumo that i didn't expect,, i avoided yakumo because his look served potential for "2000s toxic seme" energy. but i tolerated him because his ACTUAL personality was NOT That. yet... now he's showing that exact domineery junk and i'm ..ok with it? Is it specifically because i've only seen him be pathetic in every other room?!

i'm just gonna...a. take a moment here to... maybe sort of understand the predicament i'm in along with my growing . something. admiration? for yakumo. uhhh.... hmmmm..........

yeah ok whatever people can be freaks about nipples i guess

SHIT I FORGOT HE HAS COLD HANDS . SHIT. I FORGOT I LIKE COLD HANDS SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'M INTO THAT?

NOT THE NECK BITING AGAIN AHAHAHAHAAHHAHHA FOR REAL?????? VAMPIRE COSPLAY SERIOUS????? (<- my voice has gone an octave higher as i start panic laughing)

i don't know why i didn't expect that here. do i just not think ahead? it's stupid count drakumo. of course he's gonna suck blood. at least twice. maybe the rest of you saw it coming, and rolle dyour eyes. ahahaha, how very trite. how very standard.

did the active shattering of my preconceived yakumo.png weaken me THAT much? was i sudddenly swept up into the revelation thata game was Finally going beyond the yaoi dichotomy? to make someone subby AND dommy? Was i SO swept up that the "cringe vampire roleplay" bypassed my eyerolling sensor?!?!?!

i've got a single nervous bead of sweat making its way down my back and it's cuz of the very simple combo of hole/temperature/neck

so while i'm taking another impromptu wary pause , stewing at how DEVASTATED i may or may not be idk whatever it's not a big deal that the neck bite isn't shown on screen

LOGIC: that makes sense. animating and drawing that separate pose in this setup would be way too much work for 2 sentences. HORNY: TEAR INTO HIM. SUCK HIM DRY. LET ME

SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

yeah for real. I'M feeling attacked right now. eiden trying his best not to splort from the three-pronged feel-up (struggling like an amorous salmon up a waterfall) when suDNDEnly

......?

*RECORD SCRATCH* ?!?!?!?!?!??!?????!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!???!!!!!??????????????????????? ?????!?!?!?!?????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?????E?!?FKFOO>>>>?VFF??A""????":??"??????!?!!??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

👆

WHAT WAS THAT?

*runs into the adjacent room like it's a reality tv privacy booth* *slams the door and stares incredulously at the camcorder* *points toward the room i just left*

IS THAT ALLOWED?

Is Yakumo legally allowed to say "fuck"?????

*falls into a hushed and baffled whisper* i don't have enough Japanese comprehension to parse exactly what yakumo said oh god i wish i had the comprehension is this a translator liberty? is it real? because if the original speech was actually more reserved but the translators were like "bro that ain't sexy. just write FUCK"?? i guess that wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility? but if yakumo legitimately said "fuck" ...... AND dropped the honorific from eiden's name?! .......... huh! ohhhhhhhh *ruffles my hair out of confusion* did he really say that? i mean ok he's a grown ass snan i shouldnt ' be scandalised like i hear d an infant say FUCK as its first word , 11 months out of the womb ....... *deep breath* ok. don't dwell on it. gotta return to the task at hand. *steadfastly turns the doorknob and returns to my previous location*

so eiden looks like what i feel right now (in the key of: !?!?!?) thankfully the surprise doesn't last long in the face of his shamelessness (blessed be eito), so he tries to repeat after yakumo but yakumo's drilling him so hard that brain mysgh muysh can't really... speak..prororperly

SUHUT THE FUCCK UP YAKUMO I'VE NEVER BEEN SO OFFENDED BY SUCH A SHORT SENTENCE GO AWAY WITH YOUR THIRTY SHADES OF COUNT DOMKUMO PARADING IN HERE THINKIN YOU CAN DISH OUT ORDERS LIKE THSI WHEN YOU'R E NORMALLY A SOBBING MESS BY NOW=====----

*pinches in between my brows* uueugh...... eiden doesn't get to finish his task but they go at it until the screen goes white with that powerful SPLOOSH we all know and love

and yakumo FINALLY breaks character getting juiced released a bit of his control i guess we hear an "uhu" at last. he uses his pathetic wibble to ask eiden for more because he's still hard. of course he is...... mans is never done.......dick ouroboros with the way he never ends.......

BUT THEN EIDEN PULLS A FACE THAT GRABS MY ENTIRE BRAIN AND FLOODS ME WITH SO MUCH AFFECTION

I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY JUST LOOK AT HIM SLUTTY BLEP i was having an out-of-body experience i was suddenly going over every BL i've ever played and how none of the protags were ever this unabashedly INTO IT (of course we are only here because we build upon the foundations of our gay ancestors THANK YOU GAYASS SPIRITS OF YORE , ) BUT! i'm experiencing a grand realisation of how far we've come and how eiden being a slutty versatile dweeb enriches my life to untold measures and his stupid cute little ;P thirsty look is going to sustain me for years and also i love it so much i'm going to screenshot it and keep it in my gallery just so i can look at it whenever i think about homophobia existing ever . i love u eiden get that dick and hole forever💖

now that yakumo is all vulnerable and Himself and freed from his edgy persona , he's just pounding into eiden liek 🥺 i'm just a normal snokai right? 🥺😥 so it's ok to act the way i truly want to❓ you'll accept all of me? 😖 i'm not a horrible irredeemable monster ?? 😧💦 you still want me? here?? with you???🥺🥺🥺 i'm allowed to make you feel good??😢?😭?😥 of course eiden affirms all this with a big moany yes (in surprisingly eloquent words despite the state of his anus)

and to top it all off, the room provides a full circle of plot by letting eiden complete his failed "repeat after me" task from before..- with a horny addendum about how he can't get enough of yakumo's dirty expressions, because of course our boy has to get the last word.

ahhh,,, like an epic movie,, it all comes together. loose ends tied and fucklines affirmed. tasks fulfilled; pervert's journey complete;; we, the audience, can go home with satisfied closure.

after-credits sceNe: when the post-nut clarity hits yakuei, i am brick'd with overwhelming concern about eiden's leg. how has it NOT cramped this entire time, being held up like that.? what was that? at least 15 minutes?! of lifting up one leg and spreading it so wide? damn, boy, is ya potassium that powerful? no calf cramps? nothing? eiden your sexual athleticism is unrivalled. i am in awe.

Note!

When i first watched these rooms, I didn't have headphones. Months later, i finally got to watch the scenes WITH SOUND. and i was so very pleased to hear that yakumo's voice in R5 was a nice middle ground between his suuuuper drawly heavy cosplay mode R2 angstvoice,, and his regular uhuu soft voice. it's definitely more himself, but with the added confidence of roleplaying ehuehue so it's just nice!! to hear him being more secure in himself!! and enjoying the situation!! but also teasing eiden and enjoying the power plays?? yay! near the end he returns almost fully to his regular voice due to , you know, whiny pleady 🥺 feels-too-good things afoot and that just .... upped the affection for me.... ugh... so he CAN do both......

in future watches, i eventually take the time to look at yakumo's face instead of eiden's. . .

and i do NOT like where my subsequent thoughts go

oh no he's hot.......................

WE RETURN TO REALITY. IT IS SOME TIME BETWEEN MARCH AND MAY (2023). I HAVE AT LAST UNLOCKED ALL OF CP YAKUMO'S ROOMS. I AM IN MY ROOM AND I AM SHOOKETHED. Shortly, I seek out Friend B, the catalyst for this train of horror and realisation. I tell them the task is done. Eventually, i give them my phone so they can watch their beloved vampire yakumo rooms. I couldn't even hand it over with the derisive scoff I THOUGHT I would show. the look of absolute dismissal that used to appear whenever someone mentioned crimson phantom yakumo. No, i handed it over with thinly concealed amusement . perhaps even excitement, that someone would soon share in something that so pleasantly surprised me. A part of me wished for them to return my phone with a disappointed "tch". to tell me that, oh, that wasn't very good after all. you were right. i could have missed out on vampire yakumo and lost nothing. Unfortunately, they returned my phone later that evening . their eyes glittered with the glee of someone whose hopes were beautifully fulfilled. "OH MY FUCKING GOD I KNEW it was gonna be amazing!", they bubbled. "Yeah." is all i could say... . I spend the following weeks slowly falling victim to yakumo's charms. By June, I am putting up posters of him all over my room while talking about how much i hate him.

SUMMARY: like nuca itself, it started as a joke and now the quences have conned. i'm suffering the cussions, reperfully. eiden did NOT help. he was beautiful and amazing from every angle and that added to the positive associations with these rooms,, and by extension, yakumo. and now? now i hate this snakeboy for what's he's done to me. i'm p sure he's actively moving the goalposts on my preferences as i type. i'm scared. he has too much power . that this mushy noodle would subvert tropes by following the old kabedon-seme script then DO IT AGAIN by hitting me with the SUBVERT REVERSE BEAM #2 and now i dream about railing him under the moonlight.

it was all downhill from that accursed roleplay. eiden's a gayteway drug. he fkoin got me. and now yakumo's got me too

[luringfantasy]

One by One 6/7 (final chapter part a)

PRELUDE

You were snooping around Loki's stuff to find his chest full of sex toys. He was not very pleased about it and has decided to punish you by using all his toys on you, one by one...

based on this imagine |

previous main masterlist

Warnings: use of "pet" names, BDSM, dom Loki, sub reader, female reader

MINORS DNI

NO PROOF READING

You were waiting. And all you did was to wait for Loki, but Saturday did not come, and neither did you..(XD). Loki was pulled into a mission, and it just kept getting extended week after week. You worked for Tony and occasionally for SHIELD, you hated Hydra, but this time the hate was personal. 

Those damned creatures kept Loki away from you, kept you from his glorious dick, how dare they!

Private Number : Prepare yourself, I won’t be stopping this time, little pet. -L

You knew exactly who this was, your heart started beating fast receiving his text like this, was the wait over? Although you decided to tease him a little bit.

You : who dis?Private Number : You are asking for trouble y/n, you know perfectly well “who dis” is.You : idk, it’s been so long, i might have forgotten Private Number : I see, perhaps my little dove needs a thorough reminding.

Him addressing you as “his” little dove made your heart soar. You have been working with him for so long, but didn’t realize that he even saw you as a friend let alone “his”. This was a conversation for future you. Much much later in the future, after you get a ride on his glorious, beautiful cock, mmm, definitely after that. Your thighs rubbed against each other, you would definitely not mind Loki “reminding” you. Though you didn’t know how much of anything you would retain once he started to fuck you.

You : When will u be back??Loki : Eager are we?

You imagined he must be chuckling lightly at your desperation.

Loki : Soon enough dove. And until then, you will save your sweet nectar for me and only me. Not even your own fingers should have a taste of what is mine!

Oh god, you were already desperate for him, using your own fingers to mimic his, trusting you silicon friend more often than not, and he wanted you to wait?

You : 😭😭Loki : Are you that happy?You : Wats there to be happy abt? U r being unfair.

You waited for him to say something but figured he was busy or maybe he didn’t deem this important enough to discuss. His word was final, he was letting you torture yourself, make you wait. You receive occasional texts from him, which did not help at all.

Loki : I am having the finest chocolate and I still want you on my tongue.Loki : Darling, do you know the traffic light system?You : ???Loki : Hmm, I suggest you look into it...

??? Seriously, what was this man thinking? You were now concerned for your safety. But the idea of Loki going feral on you turned you on more than it scared you. An inner voice told you that you should probably seek help, but, when have you listened to it when it concerned Loki?

After a week or so, you fell into a routine with him, texting him whenever you got some time. On days when he didn’t text you, you worried. And then patiently waited, hoping he was well. But it was impossible for you to wait, you almost went against his words to relieve yourself, but stopped at the very end. Then one day you were not so lucky, and very very very desperate. Your will power broke, and you had one of the best orgasms in a while, almost as good as the ones Loki gave you. The waiting does add to the intensity.

But now you are scared. You knew you cannot lie to Loki, he is the god of lies, but you didn’t want to confess to him either. You were already in this arrangement because you were going through his stuff behind his back, and now you broke his rule.

As a few days passed the guilt ate you from the inside, so you confessed to him over text. His reply was worse than anything you could have expected. It was an “OK.”, that too with a full stop! You were expecting him to reprimand you, but this meant only one thing, that he will take care of this matter when he arrives.

Loki : My place, right now.

This is the text you had been waiting for! Fcking finally. Finally some fucking! The last two weeks took a toll on you, not only did you abide by Loki’s rule and were super frustrated, you were also anxious about how Loki would punish you, for breaking his rule.

You were prepared for this evening for a very long time, you even bought a new pair of dark green lingerie for him.

As you walked towards his door, it hit you. The delicious smell, coming from his place, filled the whole corridor. Did he get you food? Before you even knocked the door, he opened it (damn his god powered hearing).

You immediately went in for a hug. “I missed you! You took too long for this!”. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you into him, then you felt him breathing you in. “And we both know that you lack any patience…” he whispered into your hair, which made you stiffen immediately, prompting a chuckle out of him.

(To be continued)

Thankyou for reading my work. And, well.. just thankyou.

TAGLIST: @lokixryss@alyeskathewave@ladymischief11@tukes@yelkmelk@crimson25

[naturesapphic]

Knight in shining armor part 2

Knight!Natasha romanoff x princess!fem!reader

Warnings: angst, and a little bit of fluff

It’s been a few months since the incident and life between you and Natasha has been great. Of course Natasha still had to be careful with her feelings towards you but she can’t deny it any longer that she was in fact in love with you. She still loved her job and wanted to be your number one protector so that’s why she’s been secret with her feelings towards you. If this gets out, she may be banish and lose her heroic ship forever. That’s why y’all aren’t a couple yet and that is why you went off to go see your parents. You had to tell them your feelings and that you want to be with Natasha. A few hours went by and you were overjoyed at the outcome of the long talk you had with your parents. You come out of the main hall and start searching for Natasha.

“Natasha?” You called out for her and decided to head to your room and try to call for her again. Natasha who had settled into her quarters for the night, hears the princess calling out to her and quickly makes her way to the princess's room. "Is everything alright, your highness?" she asks, concern etched on her features. You go over towards her and you look up at her with happiness in your eyes “Guess what! My family said that I can marry whoever I want! They said they don’t care what class they are in, as long as I am happy.” You exclaimed looking at you with hopeful eyes. Natasha’s eyes widen in surprise and joy upon hearing this news, even as she tries to control her emotions. "That is wonderful news, your highness! I am so happy for you." Natasha said oblivious to the fact that you chose her. Natasha smiles reassuringly at the princess. "But remember, it's important to choose someone who will treat you with the respect and love you deserve. Someone who will stand by you through thick and thin, and support you in all your endeavors." Natasha exclaimed and you had to hold back from rolling your eyes.

“I choose you Natasha…we of course don’t have to get married right away but…may I take you out on a nice picnic?” You say with glee and hopefulness in your voice. Natasha's cheeks flush at the princess's words, emotions swirling within her. While she had entertained feelings for the princess herself, she had never imagined that those feelings could work out. She takes a deep breath to steady herself before responding. "I...I am honored by your offer, your highness," she says softly. "But I must remind you that I am your knight and it is my duty to protect and serve you. We cannot engage in such activities without proper clearance and approval from the king." She pauses for a moment, considering her options. "But...if you would like to discuss this further, I am happy to do so. Perhaps we can talk about it over tea or go on that picnic you wanted.” Natasha responded. You give her a understanding nod, hoping that she gets that I can be with whoever I want, which means her “let me put on a comfortable dress, I’ll be right back.” You say as you go into the closet and puts on a cute white flower dress and comes back out.

Natasha nods in approval at the princess's attire, admiring the simplicity and elegance of her dress. She leads the princess to a private sitting area outside, near the garden, offering her a comfortable seat. "If I may be so bold, your highness," she says with a small smile. "what made you think of me as a potential partner?" She takes a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever the princess's response may be. You sigh happily as you look at Natasha with love and admiration in your eyes. “because ever since you’ve became my personal knight, I’ve fallen in love with you…plus you are a woman and not a man.” You let out a giggle. “and because you are so brave and loyal…everytime I see you my heart flutters and it feels like it’s just you and me together in this earth…I told my parents about my feelings for you and at first they were against it but came to realize that they know that you will protect me and love me right and now they accept it and want us to marry one day.” You explained to her. Natasha's heart swells with emotion at the princess's words, feeling a rush of warmth suffuse her body as she takes in the princess's confession.

"I see," Natasha says, her voice soft and gentle. "I am honored that you would think so highly of me, your highness. And while I confess that the thought of being with you has crossed my mind more than once, as your knight it is my duty to remain professional and focused on ensuring your safety and well-being." Natasha stated. "Is there anything else I can do for you today?" Natasha asked you. You smile at her with love in your eyes. “hmmmm…can I have a kiss?” Natasha's heart races at the princess's request, her senses going into overdrive as she tries to maintain her composure. She takes a deep breath to steady herself before responding. "Your highness," she says firmly "As your knight, it is not appropriate for me to engage in such behavior with you. We must maintain a professional relationship at all times." She fidgets slightly, feeling a pang of regret at the princess's request. "Is there anything else I can assist you with?" A flash of hurt pangs on your face and you feel your heart breaking “did you not here what I just told you? we can be together. my family is supportive about it and you won’t lose your place as a knight…don’t you want to be with me..?” You whisper at the last part as tears fill your eyes.

Natasha's heart feels like it might break as she sees the hurt and tears in the princesses' eyes. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself and gather her thoughts. "Your highness," she says softly, Her tone softens as she continues, her voice filled with empathy and understanding. "But know that my feelings for you are real and genuine. If ever there comes a time when we can be together without compromising my duties, I would be honored to be with you." She reaches out to gently wipe tears from the princess as she doesn’t want to risk anything happening to her job as your knight. Natasha's heart feels like it might break as she sees the hurt and tears in the princesses' eyes. "Princess," *she says softly, "I never said I didn't want to be with you, but my duty as a knight comes first. It is not appropriate for us to engage in any type of intimate relationship while I am sworn to protect and serve." Her tone softens as she continues, her voice filled with empathy and understanding. "But know that my feelings for you are real and genuine.” She reaches out to gently wipe tears from the princess eyes. “You still don’t understand do you…what can I do that will make us be together.” I look up at you pleadingly. "I'm sorry, your highness," Natasha says softly, her heart heavy with sorrow. "But no amount of pleading or convincing can sway me from my duty as a knight."

She takes a deep breath before continuing, her voice laden with sadness. "I know this must be hard to hear, but we must learn to accept the reality of our situation. Our relationship must remain professional in order to protect the well-being of the kingdom and its people." She looks at the princess kindly, her eyes searching hers for any sign of understanding and acceptance. "I will always be here for you, your highness. As your faithful knight, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy." Natasha says to you kindly. You feel your heart break and your face turns a bit cold. You stand up and walk away, heading to the castle. Natasha watches with a heavy heart as the princess walks away, feeling a deep pain in her chest. She takes a deep breath and steels herself, determined to continue her duty in protecting the princess at all costs. "Your highness," she calls after you. "Please, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I am always here for you." She watches until the Princess is out of sight before turning back to her guard duties, trying to push aside her own emotions for the sake of her mission.

A/n: 1485 words. part three will be posted soon :) check out my Rhea ripley imagine that I posted and Requests for her are opened. I have my own buy me a coffee page! You can give me a dollar and it will help. I also have some different commission types I will do so here's my page to look into it :) https://www.buymeacoffee.com/naturesapphic Requests are open for yeehaw!wanda, country!wanda, and any other southern variants of Wanda or Natasha! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y'all!

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY CASSANDRA PENTAGHAST  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

the truth is more important than my reputation, and anyone willing to accuse me of weakness is welcome to try.

i cannot stop thinking of our earlier discussion.

you enjoy making things complicated, don't you?

you can't be serious.

i simply wanted to steal a moment, while i still can.

i will not let him take you from me.

i want a man who sweeps me off my feet, who gives me flowers and reads me poetry by candlelight. i want the ideal.

pretend you don't know this about me.

the flirting. with me. i've... noticed it. unless it is my imagination, which is entirely possible.

i'm thinking less flattering things now.

perhaps this would be a good time to stop talking.

what makes you think i would welcome your pity?

you so rarely call me by my name, [name]. why is that?

you were together for a long time?

i enjoy fighting at your side, [name].

you're not as handsome as you think.

romance is not the sole province of dithering ladies in frilly dresses. it is passion. it is being swept away by the pursuit of an ideal. what is not to like about that?

i was hoping we could speak privately.

you're smiling a great deal these days. do you always do it while staring dreamily into the distance?

such fascinations reveal far more about the teller than the truth.

i did not realize it took so little to exceed your expectations.

i do not trust any event where hitting someone isn't an option.

me? in a dress? it's ludicrous!

what would i have to blush about?

i take it you think i'm frightening?

if you had done that in our last sparring match, you might have won.

were you not suggesting earlier i should be more intimidating?

how is manipulating and bullying people supposed to be enjoyable?

i don't wear "underpants."

if you are going to pursue this, make it worth it. be happy.

i've never considered what i must look like to someone common. i must indeed seem terrifying.

i wasn't very interested to begin with.

you will never let that go, will you?

i do not "rough people up."

do not pretend to be an innocent bystander.

are you eager to see me go?

what we had was fleeting.

this... is not a discussion i want to have here.

not all my feelings involve stabbing.

i am not without my sympathy, especially given recent events.

i thought you might be concerned.

i suppose that is all we will ever know.

thank you, [name]. that... does make me feel better.

i assume you have advice?

when it is done, i promise what you have done here will not be forgotten.

i thought you would be pleased.

no one has ever accused me of reinforcing reality before.

i should not have asked.

you have seen so much sadness in your journeys.

your opinion of me must be very low to surprise you so often.

i know myself and i cannot be the leader we need. thus, i have no regrets.

the world hinges on our actions. we face death at every turn.

it was an accident. well... mostly an accident.

we must pray it never comes to that.

what made you change your mind?

[tomlivingspace]

Your brains so fucking large and I also think it’s awesome seeing ur takes on peeniss. There’s such a lack of just even headcanon discussions on how fucked Katniss and peetas entire relationship up until the very end of the story was created and dragged along.

I enjoy thinking of happy ending stuff, But Also, getting to talk about how their shared trauma doesn’t make them purely perfect for each other and how it leaves more room for hidden resentment and hatred and guilt is so so discussion worthy. Especially for katniss and especially when ur applying that dynamic to ivypool (i am insane for both) thank u for this meal

[floodgates opened] LITERALLY LITERALLY LITERALLY like first and foremost even BEFORE mockingjay peeta falls in love with katniss before knowing ANYTHING about her, and when she acts in a way that doesnt fit in with how he imagined her, he gets frustrated. in general he seems to have a very low opinion of her (im drawing them as cats so its relevant to this blog). he throws the shit his mother said in her face as if she had any control over it . she gets drunk ONE TIME and he focuses his criticism on her instead of HAYMITCH

he agrees to be friends with her and then he says that shit like "yeah i have nightmares but theyre just about losing you............ i feel better when i see you when i wake up......................" and katniss is like "i know he doesnt mean to make me feel bad" BUT ITS LIKE. WELL IF HES SO WELL SPOKEN THEN LIKE I THINK HE DOES????? I THINK HE KNOWS EXACTLY HOW IT COMES ACROSS WHEN HE SAYS SHIT LIKE THAT

and then AFTER mockingjay. first and foremost his personal trauma is being brainwashed into essentially dehumanizing her and believing that she was genetically engineered to torture him. so even in recovery for that shit, like. theres no way his nightmares don't heavily feature katniss as the antagonizing force. AND VICE VERSA. BECAUSE HE LITERALLY TRIES TO KILL HER TWICE. like i cannot wrap my head around how they would get together when katniss much flinch every time he reaches towards her like its fucking crazy to me. not to mention that the awful shit he said to her is so personal and so clearly shit katniss thought about herself .

none of this is to say katniss is perfect like she obv doesnt give half a shit about peeta 9 times out of 10 but idk. anyway. tl;dr:

but yeah katniss and ivypool are like. so similar in so many ways its very fun to apply my thoughts about one onto the other.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine getting Azula a present for her birthday

The first thing you noticed when your family returned to the fire nation was how serious everyone was. You’d been born in a fire nation colony so had little experience with the capital of your nation. Your parents were high born but even they’d relaxed in the colonies and allowed you to have a mostly normal life. However once Ozai declared your parent’s mission over and summoned them back to the capital that all ended. Rules patroling you seemed to spring from everywhere. Don’t wear your hair fully down, don’t meet the eye of anyone who ranks higher than you, bow from the floor to all members of the royal family...the list was endless! Due to your parent’s being very well respected you were introduced to Azula and she took you into her group. Part of you wondered if she only did it to please her father or because you were considered an oddity here in the capital but as time went on you didn’t think either was the case. Everyone here was very strict or distant and even Azula’s closest friends didn’t know her very well. Mai seemed to tolerate her mainly because of her titles and brother. Ty lee, while seemingly fond of Azula, obviously didn’t try getting closer to her than necessary. That wasn’t how friendships worked in your town and you were determined not to pick up this capital custom. So you put time and effort into all three of the girls and made progress with each. You’d go shopping with Ty lee, discuss popular and obscure theology with Mai and help Azula think through her battle strategies. Azula was the one who reacted the strongest to your attention and friendship. She began spending more time with you alone, seeking you out regularly and inviting you to events where even Mai and Ty lee weren’t permitted to go. You found yourself drawn to Azula because she seemed like the one who could most do with a friend. Mai had Zuko, Ty lee seemed content flitting from numerous different people but Azula didn’t really have anyone.

So you continued nurturing your friendship and when Azula’s birthday came around you set out to get her the most meaningful present you could to let her know she was cared for. You were very excited with your choice of present and rushed into the palace, the box you’d spent hours wrapping and unwapping until it was perfect, held tightly in your hands. “Good morning” you smiled finding Mai, Ty lee and Zuko in the royal wing. “Good morning” Ty lee beamed back but Zuko and Mai just nodded not being morning people. Mai noticed your present first. “What’s that?” she asked and you smiled “Azula’s present!”. They all looked at you confused and Zuko spoke first “why are you buying my sister a present?”. “Because it’s her birthday” you explained but that didn’t seem to help, they all still stared at you blankly. “It’s her birthday so I got her a birthday present...is that not something you do in the capital?”. “No but it sounds very sweet” Ty lee grinned. Mai shrugged “I would like presents every year just for being born but I can’t say I understand the logic”. Zuko nodded but you shrugged “ow well, hopefully Azula will enjoy it anyway”. “You’re still going to give it to her”? Zuko asked shocked and you paused “well why wouldn’t I?”. “She might think it’s weird considering you only give people presents when you’re...”. Mai hit Zuko’s arm before he could finish and shook her head. You stared confused “if you’re what?”. “It doesn’t matter” Mai said quickly “Zuko was thinking of something else, I think Azula’s in her study if you want to see her”. You frowned but Mai and Ty lee smiled at you encouragingly so you shook Zuko’s words from your mind and went to find the birthday girl. 

You knocked on Azula’s door and heard her call come in. “Happy birthday Azula!” you cried as soon as your eyes fell on her. Azula jumped vividly, the  brush she was writing with dragging messily across the page ruining her letter. “I am so sorry” you gaped “can it be saved”. “No it cannot” Azula sighed angrily “please in the future don’t scream just because it’s my birthday”. You nodded “is wishing someone a happy birthday not a thing here either?” you asked “just when I think I’m getting a handle on the capital I mess everything up”. “Birthdays are not a big deal here” Azula nodded “only important ones are given any recognition but I have heard of some places where every single birthday is celebrated. I take it your home town is one such place?”. You nodded smiling at the memory “Yes! Every year you usually have a party or do something special with the people you love most! You eat your favourite foods and someone usually makes a cake, it’s lovely”. Azula nodded her head but looked unconvinced and then her eyes fell on the box in your hand. “And what is this?”Azula asked. “A present” you smile brightly but Azula blushed and looked away for some reason. “For my birthday right?” she asked “this is one of your odd traditions nothing more?”. “Yes” you agreed unsure what else a present could mean “you also give the person whose birthday it is a present, something you think they’ll like and wrap it up nicely for them...can I give it to you?”. Azula was still red but nodded so you placed it down on the desk before stepping away. 

Azula picked it up hesitantly and undid the bow before removing the lid carefully. You watched her face excitedly for any reaction but all Azula did was stare inside. You were dying for a sign however small to know if she loved or hated it but Azula continued to stare until you thought you would burst of anticipation. When you couldn’t contain yourself any longer you sighed “so do you like it? It’s the trinket we saw in that glass store in town”. Azula nodded her head “yes I recognise it...how did you decide on this for me?”. “Well I thought I saw you admiring it when we were there because you kept staring at it but now I’m not sure if you staring at something means you love or hate it”.

Azula remembered the day a few weeks ago when you went into town together and she recalled how you’d mysteriously disappeared before reappearing minutes later. She picked up the small figurine carefully. It was a rose that fit in the palm of her hand made of different orange, red and yellow coloured glass all intricately folded together. When the light hit it looked as if it was on fire and Azula remembered thinking it looked very beautiful and she had the same thought now. 

“So...is it okay?” you asked nervously “If you don’t like it then I can always return it and get you something else?”. “No!” Azula said sharply before she composed herself and rid her face of the emotion she felt underneath. “It is a nice present, I like the colours...” she said awkwardly aware she was blushing “I will keep it, thank you”. The look on your face made Azula’s heart beat faster. You were so happy that she liked the tiny piece of glass and Azula figured if such a small thing could cause you so much happiness maybe it wasn’t such a stupid tradition after all. “I’m so glad you like it” you grinned “I was going to suggest we have a meal or something to celebrate but as that’s probably not a thing here either I’ll leave you to your work. Have a lovely birthday day Princess” you smiled and with a bow to her you disappeared.

Later

All day your gift didn’t leave Azula’s mind. Usually when you gave someone a present it meant you were interested in courting that person. For a second when you entered Azula thought that was what you intended, she thought this was your declaration before she realised what your intention’s really were. As she stared at the small rose she recalled the slight relief she felt realising you didn’t mean to court her but she also felt another feeling, larger and deeper inside herself which she refused to acknowledge. 

Azula placed the rose back in the box and got back to work. A while later a servant let her know that her father was ready for her and she prepared to meet with him. She hesitated to leave the present you gave her and frowned. She saw the servant glance at it and blushed furiously. “Tell my father I will be there soon” she commanded and he scurried away. Azula sighed and lifted the lid off the box once again. The rose was still shining beautifully and Azula hesitated before picking it up and slipping it into her pocket. 

The meeting did not go well. Ozai didn’t mention Azula’s birthday which wasn’t odd but the fact he didn’t even seem aware it was today stung a little considering a girl she knew for only 8 months did. The meeting went from bad to worse as Ozai started snapping at everyone in the room and through it all Azula gently held your rose. It was cold in her palm and she liked the coolness. She carried on with her meeting, holding the rose whenever she needed something positive to focus on, and got through the meeting. 

When Azula was finally dismissed she was relieved and felt the toll it had taken on her. She started back to her study aware she still had work to do but honestly her eyes were tired and her brain hurt. She didn’t want to do any more work and your offer suddenly came into her head. You’d mention something about food...a tradition you’d thought to try before figuring Azula wouldn't want to. Azula thought it over before she found a messenger and dispatched them to go find you.

You arrived at Azula’s apartments in the palace confused. Her note hadn’t said much just that she wanted to see you and to come quickly. So you dutifully dropped your very busy schedule (which concerned lounging and reading in the gardens) and made your way to her door. Two guards let you in and you called out for Azula. “Ah y/n” a voice replied and you turned to see Azula descending the stairs. “Azula” you smiled before remembering the note “is everything okay? Your note just said to come here”. “Everything is fine” Azula assured you “I just...thought we could entertain that custom of yours”. “The meal?” you asked excitedly. Azula nodded looking away to disguise her blush “exactly, what must we do?”. You laughed “we don’t have to attack it like a battle! I have everything planned, I’d already gotten the picnic ready and I still have the spot in the gardens although I do need to decorate it and call the others...if you give me an hour I will have everything ready!”. Azula nodded “that is fine” and with a smile you rushed for the door. Before you could disappear Azula called out to you “ow and y/n there’s no need to disturb the others i’m sure they’re too busy on such short notice”. You paused “are you sure? You’re their friend so i’m sure they’d happily drop whatever they were doing to celebrate your birthday, I mean it only happens once a year”. Azula smiled at the sentiment but shook her head “somehow I doubt they’ll think that way but it doesn’t matter, I will be happy with just the two of us”. Now it was your turn to blush. You nodded and bowed slightly “of course princess” and left the room. 

An hour later Azula made her way to the gardens, following the instructions you’d sent her. She usually avoided the gardens for obvious reasons but she was hoping you’d give her a good memory in the place her mother cherished. You’d said to follow the yellow flowers and so Azula did that until she saw a raised area. There was a small platform with food all arranged along a small table. A small cake perched in the centre with the words “Happy Birthday Azula” frosted on the top. Lanterns hung around the platform and lines of colourful fabric hung from the ceiling of the structure. Cushions were placed on the floor in a seating area and the whole area looked very inviting even if it wasn’t very fire nation. Azula took in the scene for a few seconds before she realised you were there. You were muttering about something as you re-arranged some of the decorations your back to her. “Y/n” she called and you jumped “Azula! I promise I’m almost done I was just trying to work out where to place the balloons”. Azula smiled “there’s balloons too?” looking at the sea of decorations all over the small structure. You paused “why is it too much?”. Azula stepped through the doorway and saw due to the streams of decorations you were practically hidden away from the rest of the garden. Azula liked that idea and surveyed the rest of the platform. The lanterns made the light that passed through them change colour and they chimed nicely in the breeze. The food looked and smelled delicious and the cushions looked very comfortable. “No this is just perfect” Azula smiled. You beamed at her happily and squeezed her arm “I’m so happy you like it! You deserve a special day”. Azula blushed and wasn’t sure how to respond to something like that, especially while you were staring at her just inches away. So Azula just avoided the topic. 

“Shall we begin?” she asked and you nodded. You placed a selection of all the foods (which were all Azula’s favourites of course) on a plate and passed it her before doing the same for yourself. You joined her on the cushions and smiled “so! How was your birthday? What made you decide to indulge me?”. Azula looked down at her food “it was fine...I had a really long war meeting and honestly the thought of doing more work after it was not appealing, so I contacted you. I know it’s not ideal, a whole evening wasted on being frivolous but there’s nothing to do about it now. I’ll just work extra hard tomorrow”. You frowned before looking up at her “it’s your birthday so I think you’re allowed to have a more chilled day just enjoying yourself. Plus you already work so hard anyway, if anyone deserves a rest it’s you”. “Yes but I work hard for a reason, you don’t become the best by being lazy”. You nodded “yes but you’re already the best!” you grinned “so sit back and relax for one evening. The world will still be waiting for you to conquer it tomorrow”. You nudged her shoulder and despite your words going against everything she’d been taught Azula found herself smiling “okay”. 

The two of you chatted while you ate and when you finished you began cutting Azula a piece of cake. She watched the concentration clearly etched on your face fondly. You passed Azula the piece and she took a bite cautiously but she had no reason to. It was wonderful. “This is rather nice y/n what type of cake is it?”. You smiled “it’s based off a red velvet cake because you know fire nation but I also added some spice because I know you like it”. “You made this?” Azula cried and you nodded “yes but it was no bother...i’m just glad you like it”. “I do” Azula agreed “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this silly custom of yours. It is nice to be spoiled”. You nodded grinning “it is! My birthday is in January just so you know”. Azula froze at the thought of having to plan something like this for you when you laughed “don’t worry I was joking, you don’t have to do anything for me”. “Well I doubt I’d be able to match this” Azula said gesturing around her “but I will remember, you have my word”. You smiled blushing but didn’t break your eyes away from her “thank you Azula, I’m really glad I met you”. Azula went red matching you and nodded her head “I am too...although I should be going soon. I have a meeting early tomorrow morning”. You nodded standing “of course, would you like me to walk you back to your room?”. Azula shook her head “that is fine thank you y/n...do you need any help with all the decorations?” she asked hesitantly. You shook your head “no it’s fine, the decorations will take 5 minutes to pack away and i’ll take the spare food to the kitchen...the only thing is the cake, would you like to take it or would you like me to?”. Azula eyed the cake remembering the delicious taste and nodded “I will take it with me”. You packaged it up for her and smiled “well I hope you’ve had a nice birthday”. “I have thank you” Azula nodded “now I must be going”. You nodded and waved as Azula left the gardens. 

Azula walked through the palace to her room your cake in her hands and she felt proud. Her friend had made this to celebrate her birthday. She hadn’t asked you to, you did it because you wanted to do it for her, because you cared for her. Azula stepped inside her room and looked about her. She couldn’t help but realise after all the colourful decorations you’d used just how dull her room was. Despite all of the finery none of the room was really hers. None of the pieces had been bought just for her, they were all things passed down for generations. Azula placed your cake on a table and took your present out of her pocket, running her hand over it softly. Nobody had ever bought her something just because they wanted her to be happy. Azula wondered where to place your present. She didn’t want it out in the open where anyone could see or break it. She couldn’t find anywhere suitable so she changed and got into bed still undecided. She toyed with the figurine remembering the way you’d smiled when she said she liked it. Now safely in her own room alone she recognised she’d been slightly disappointed this was a token of friendship and nothing else. She enjoyed having your attention and liked you most out of all her friends but in a very different way. Still, even if this wasn’t a romantic gesture it was still a gesture of love and such an open un-fire nation one. 

Azula smiled to herself before placing the rose under her pillow where she could hide it but also keep it close to her while she slept. “What a strange day” she muttered to herself but she knew it hadn’t actually been strange, it had been the best birthday she could remember having and it was all because of you.   

___

I’m constantly sad Azula never had anyone really love and care for her like Zuko did, she deserved better. But even if someone had shown her affection, based on her sad upbringing, I feel like Azula wouldn’t know how to respond to it because she’s never been shown what love is so I want to shower her in it!!  Hence this story :)

[mmogurl]

So, last night I finally got through Daemon's arc in Fire and Blood.. There are going to be major spoilers in this post, so only click -keep reading- if you have read it already.. or don't care if I spoil it by talking frankly about its contents! I will be discussing Rhaenyra as well as Aemond. **SPOILERS!! IF YOU KEEP READING! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

So, I am just completely wrecked by his ending and how Rhaenyra basically pushes him to it with her psychotic, stupid ways. I mean.. I strongly disliked Rhaenyra after the show, before even reading the book (especially after that fight where she says she can't trust him which is not in the book). But now after reading it, I utterly despise her! She's awful! Horrible.. and the worst kind of stupid! It's like, she just goes kind of nuts, but nobody notices that she has. But it's so obvious that she is not thinking clearly, that or she truly doesn't care about anyone or anything.. Like they are all just pawns to her, dogs to use. But then she doesn't even know how to move them properly on the board - hence my calling her stupid.. I feel like her response of ordering Nettles death was the last nail in the coffin for Daemon, and he was just like.. Fuck this shit.. I mean she literally says, she doesn't care if the lord there takes her head in her sleep.. and she slept with Daemon! Can you imagine that shit?? And this is after she said it's perfectly ok for him to sleep around with Mysaria while Rhaenyra is seemingly uninterested in him, so it's not like she was jealous. But, it seemed like he might have actually cared for Nettles and so he sends her away to save her from all the fucking madness surrounding Rhaenyra and by proxy himself... The line where he and Aemond are talking and the young prince says he's lived long enough.. where Daemon simply replies.. "On that much we can agree," is just so telling.

Imagine having been instrumental in putting Rhaenyra on the throne only to have it become so fucked in the end. And ultimately, I don't think he has the heart to do what he SHOULD do.. which is kill her.. he just decides to go off and die an honorable death in battle like a fucking Viking warrior going off to Valhalla.. But it's so bittersweet.. I hated it.. hated how it all felt like it was for nothing.. because Rhaenyra's a fucking idiot who can't listen to a god damned bit of advice from her much more experienced husband! Like, he suggests TWICE in the book to give Ulf and Hugh something to keep them happy and twice she refuses! So how does it come as a surprise when they turncoat?? But let's be realistic.. the whole Red Sowing was fucking foolhardy to begin with! Tell me, does it make sense to give the power of a god to bastards with no allegiance!? And then to not even buy their allegiance!? It's. just. stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. I'm going to be writing my fic with even more fervor now, because honestly, the entire war in the book.. What happens to Maelor, what happens at Tumbleton!? It's all a nightmare and should be avoided.. A terrible, terrible wrong that must be made right! Ugh! Rhaenyra was already an opponent in my fic - In the Shadow of Dragons. Without spoiling the story, I already have it out for her, but now it's on like fucking Donkey Kong, bitch! Ugh, and to lose Daemon and Aemond at the same time!?! X_X!!! It was at least an awesome battle and the art in the book was epic level, but they are both my favorites and now they are both dead. Now all that is left is to read about how cake eating, psycho Rhaenyra gets overthrown. I am currently at the part where King's Landing has gone into revolt.. and I'm thinking it won't be pretty for her when it happens. And there's another thought.. when you see everything awful that happens under Rhaenyra's rule, one cannot help but consider.. That even Aegon might have done a better job!

/End Rant

[notmorbid]

grey dog.

dialogue prompts from grey dog by elliott gish.

to my future self: my apologies, and godspeed.

i do not travel well, at the best of times.

i was raised in a small town. they suit me very well.

let's get a bit of supper in you.

happiness is an act of will.

there are two gods: the god of inside, and the god of outside.

who are you?

you frightened me. i thought i was alone.

you're never alone out here.

more hands make less work.

every day it gets better. you just mind that.

i feel wrung out as an old rag.

the fiercest tigers make the best mothers.

what a mess i've made of you.

i was about to put the kettle on.

i like you as you are.

rumors fly faster and further than the truth.

you deserve a chance to let your hair down.

certain things are not to be discussed.

is there anything more tiresome than a sunday school picnic?

there's no such thing as witches.

i thought it would be a dreadful trial, but you made it easy.

you are a perfect strawberry.

it will get worse before it gets better.

every town needs its witch, doesn't it? someone to whisper about in the dark?

i thought of ___ as a friend.

a young girl's reputation is as fragile as ice on a water bucket.

i don't want you to be alone in the dark.

i'm glad you came here.

you're the last thing i expected to find here.

a child may know that there are no monsters under the bed, but he will take a running leap onto the mattress, anyway. just in case.

nothing occurs in the natural world that cannot be understood through patient observation.

you can always follow me out of the dark.

if i am to drink hemlock, then let it be in good company.

you're going to run out of exclamation points, if you don't use them more sparingly.

don't you quote scripture at me.

did you think i materialized fully formed in this house?

i have a past, just as you do. just as everyone does.

widowhood has much to recommend it.

you must be going mad with boredom.

it does not become you, this passion for tragedy.

if that happened to me, i would hate god.

how have you been keeping?

you spoke the truth, and shamed the devil every time.

you have never loved anything but your own blessed reputation.

it was ordinary, in the beginning. i must remember that.

there are always eyes in the dark.

it isn't in the bible, but that doesn't mean it isn't so.

you are many things to me, but a mother is not one of them.

i can't imagine you crying.

a holiday might do you good.

my nerves are raw as meat.

i want to fend off sleep and dreams as long as i can.

it's funny, isn't it, the things that frighten us as children.

a monster seen is a monster that can be dealt with.

the shine is off the world.

you can come in, you know.

pretty is as pretty does.

what has happened to you?

whatever happened, god didn't stop it. doesn't that make it his will?

it will be alright, won't it?

you should've told me. i would have made you a cake.

did you never have birthday parties when you were a child?

so many unhappy memories. we must make a better one.

what is happening to me?

perhaps you could read to me?

i know it's a bit childish, but i like being read to when i'm not well.

there was a knock. surely you heard it.

watch me from the shadows, will you? whisper my name? come out and look me in the eye.

why are you laughing? what is it that you find so very funny?

get out of here right now, or you will catch it.

you and i know how much more there is out there in the wide, wild world.

not enraged. outraged.

what do you have to cry about?

i don't want to hear. i don't want to see.

i may be doomed, but i am not mad.

no one has ever wanted me so much.

an older sister can fix anything.

i really thought i would be able to simply carry on.

idle hands are the devil's playthings.

i need to speak to you about that night.

you are my friend. the truest friend i have.

i want to understand what happened. and to help, if i can.

a hurt animal will bite, even when someone is trying to dress its wounds.

i don't care about inconvenience, or what people think. i care about you.

you're solicitous as an angel.

i can scarcely remember the last time i wasn't nervous.

your voice is not your own, nor your expression.

i am well used to lying by omission.

it does not do for a woman to be too clever.

isn't that strange? to hate someone you have never met?

it spoke to me. it knew my name.

i don't want to be in the dark.

you know, don't you? you know for certain.

i tried to turn back, but i couldn't.

when you say 'it', what do you mean?

it's worse than not having it at all: having it, and then not having it.

is the truth something i owed you?

if i owe you my past, do you owe me yours?

every woman is full of tragedies. she is obliged to share them with no one but god.

i have nothing but questions, and no answers.

i am like a lost handkerchief: i turn up when i'm least expected.

i only did what you asked of me.

fear makes you ugly.

you are such an innocent, in spite of everything.

can you not recognize when you are being wooed?

no one has ever wooed me before.

people avoid me now.

a woman laughing is always a disturbing thing for a man to witness.

the value of knowledge does not need to be justified by utility.

you have never thought of what is best for me. only what is best for you.

what power have you over me now?

it pains me to see you so changed.

i am more myself than i have ever been before.

i am not a thing that you can shape. not anymore.

the prospect of being hanged sharpens the mind most wonderfully.

your heart is cold. beneath that skin of yours is only ice, not blood.

i have so little patience left.

you must take this to your grave.

there are a lot of stories about you.

you get to where you can recognize it. that look someone has.

intentions and prayers are useless to me.

[therealslimshakespeare]

I saw your answer about being burned out on Gigi but still being open to discussing the topic -

are there any little fun tidbits or ideas you had planned that you could drop in the answer box as a little treat?

Was there an eventual endgame for her?

Anything quirky or outrageous set to take place with her in her story?

Would Gigi ever change her ways and act grown up?

XOXOX you are my favorite writer on this whole entire app you must know

My darling, yes, yes, yes I am happy to talk of it! And I’m so happy you popped in. I cannot believe I’m your favorite, that’s just stunning to me, I’m really touched. 🫶🏼💋🫵🏻

Now into Gigi!

Shortly before the August tour she and Lisa Marie meet and as Lisa is in many ways more mature 🤣 they actually end up bonding very well, I imagined a case of Linda and Lisa with someone who’s even more playful -Gigi- and who genuinely would spend five hours playing Barbie’s because she wants to and has no fear on the golf carts.

On the August tour she’s a lifesaver for Elvis in so many ways, but things are also hard and she’s clingy and he’s on the pills to hell him keep going and it’s a side she hasn’t fully seen from him and rightfully considers to now be “the real him”

So she sticks it out but he also lashes out at he rom e about how clingy she is and it’s devastating to her. Positively devastating…all he really said was that she should be able to go to sleep on her own if he needed/wanted to keep socializing with the boys or whatever

When he goes to join her in the room that night he finds are shaking and crying and cold and practically going through a sub drop of sorts

Which gets cured with insistent assurance he’s a selfish old man who doesn’t even appreciate the miracle right under his nose and massive amounts of love and cuddles and him laying on top of her like a weighted blanket.

Swearing she’s always gonna be His Baby Girl

There’s no going back after that

Not that either Elvis or Gigi would want to

Something wonderful does happen on this tour and in many ways it’s due to Gigi yet again, Colonel Parker hasn’t being so well himself and now having to endure Elvis calling out his newest PR nightmare from the stage each night as his little Angel when she’s sitting there beaming, nineteen and big titted, is a worsening strain.

Sometime in later September the strain gets to be too much, apparently, when Colonel Parker is trying to enjoy the hotel’s amenities and soak in the hot tub with his cigar and a starry night sky but instead of being able to enjoy these he is assaulted with the caterwauling sounds of Gigi getting pleasurably railed on the balcony, one too many references to how big Elvis is and how much she loved how big he is and how big he is and…on and on and on

The Colonel was found at dawn bobbing up and down in the little bubbling caldron -a heart attack apparently

Big Sad

Such a big sad they have to cancel the rest of the tour and fly out to Hawaii to mourn and lift Elvis’ spirits

There Gigi feeds him pineapples and papaya juice and frolics in the surf in every smaller bikinis that are more calculated than Elvis assumes because her chief goal is actually to get him shirtless and frolic with her and he won’t unless it’s such a dire paparazzi emergency he must offer his own shirt to cover her bouncing assets

They make a baby on a plane ride, he just goes in during the turbulence and she’s so vigorous and delighted no pulling out occurs

So he marries her *duh*

Lisa is delighted by this and Lovey is born -cue, lots of Gigi never updating her wardrobe so everything is just flowy and unbuttoned and lots of nursing with a tit out much to the Memphis Mafia’s consternation about where to look without Elvis biting their heads off

Gigi loves engaging in a past time of seeing how far she can shoot her milk, it’s her favorite thing about motherhood, the little clothes are next and somwhere down the line is the actual baby

Don’t fret -Lovey has more than enough parental love coming from Elvis

With Parker gone and out of the way, wishes and whims honestly get to be met a lot easier and Gigi considers one of the most tragic things her Bug Daddy went though is the closing of Circle G ranch so you best believe she wheedles and begs for another and it’s a complete zoo by the end, not a ranche

They have another kid, soonish —a son named Baron. He’s the only one to inherit brain cells and will go on to be as devastatingly handsome and charming as his father and yet a full on Bayou living recluse when he’s not taking care of Graceland and his mother and kindly informing Miss Bealieu that if she wanted to use the name Presley, maybe she shoulda not divorced the original Presley she was related to?!👇🏼

but all that is after Elvis dies.

Because he does and yeah it’s genuinely sad and it happens sometime in the early 2000’s and his last words are to Baron and to “take care of my Gigi”

Gigi then proceeds to live and a very Yellow Wallpaper version of reality, never one for facing realities but gifted with a massive amount of emotional intelligence, she’s quite certain every breeze through the curtain and creak in the old house and song order on the radio is a message from Elvis to her. Yeah it’s a bit morbid but it’s also oddly convincing, “Daddy” doesn’t lose any presence just because he’s zipped out to the gas station longer than usual.

She’s preserved everything and that’s her chief hobby along with the zoo, even when Lovey is situated and taking over the magazines Elvis bought and produced. Gigi takes an interest for sure ->hell, she used to be their centerfold time and again so the least touch of her manicured hand on an editorial is still gold, no matter how time passes<- but first and foremost she’s still insistent she’s gotta be at Graceland, can’t leave Daddy alone there for long.

Which is a CRAZY and weird ass world for a certain Austin Butler to step into for research.

It’s impeccably preserved to the point of being past creepy, like it’s not creepy instead it’s just fully convincing, which probably should’ve been his first clue to run for his sanity sake, but when you love a thing you’ll quickly embrace a comforting illusion over a hurtful reality

And Austin loves Elvis, almost as much as Gigi does

Which becomes their joint reality

She’s eager to help him with the research, pours out the most insightful and tender perceptions of her Daddy, shows Austin his guitars and his books, his notes and his bibles, hours of hole footage -some of which Austin initially did not see the research value in due to their scandalous content but Gigi was insistent it was crucial material to get to know Elvis as his most unassuming, which she insisted was in bed

Probably shoulda been predictable -except for their age gap but life does imitate art- bonding over one all consuming love in their lives and watching X rated home movies and breathing life into each other’s lonely delusions really binds people together

Baron Presley is initially totally incensed and suspect this little twink Butler but eventually he softens, gets won over

Austin’s a good and kind influence on Gigi and between him and Baz they get her out more, Lisa’s good word regarding both helps this, too

Gigi gets convinced to go to Cannes with them all and Baron actually surfaces from his redneck palace in the bayous to confirm he’s not in fact dead for the first time in ten years,

He Takes Care of Business one last time at Cannes like his daddy would like, see Austin would dearly like to be Gigi’s and Gigi would like to be Austin’s -hell they already are- so Baron does them a little favor and draws out the little Nepo Arm Candy that Austin’s been toting about the these events and charms her real well and let’s just say, when Priscilla Bealieu saw Baron Presley come out of the coed bathroom in swaggering dishevelment with a little bowlegged twig behind him -she got some severe ptsd flashbacks to his father

After this it’s all happily ever after and Gigi is still showing up to Austin’s premiers and she’s proud as anything of him and he of her and together they’ve found whatever it is that binds souls together

Life imitates art

•also, for those who ask, if Gigi ever gets a lurid and beautiful biopic herself, looks like Emerald Fennel is the one for the job, uhem

Tagging my Gigi taglist as this is a headcanon list of sorts and y’all may enjoy seeing it 💋

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

@ab4eva

@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

@kendralavon7

@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

@stephthestallion

@vintageshanny

@landmermaid12

@ashtag2887

@notstefaniepresley

@butlersluvbot

@steph-speaks

@eliseinmemphis

@lookingforrainbows

@dkayfixates

@ellie-24

@memphisflash1935-1977

@marriedtopresley

@powerofelvis

@thatbanditqueen

@elvisabutler

@butlersxbirdy

@heartbrake-hotel

@fav-fanficssss

@austinbutlersbaby

@freudianslumber

@kxnnxy

@kingdomforapony

@be-my-ally

@crazymadpassionatelove

@that-hotdog

@missmaywemeetagain

@fallinlovewithurlove

@richardslady121

@lilycherries123

@18lkpeters

@xenaspace3-blog

@lil-mamas-obsessions

@father-of-2cats

@helen06dreamer

@returntopresley

@gonnagoandfangirl

@kelssssxd

@octobers-snow

@velvetelvis

@blursedblegh

@azzypog