#i just know she said it like that at least once

[xxplastic-cubexx]

me Omw to annoy you about more Francesca content 😼😼

you and my entire inbox my friend strap in everyone this is gonna be The Francesca Mega Collection. part one The Bed Collection ft You HAVE To Click/Tap To Read Anything ESPECIALLY The Asks

thank you for joining me for the Francesca Bed Collection im going to pass out

[eggtargaryenii]

EAST OF THE SUN | PART IV

 “Aemond has always been very jealous over you," Jace said doubtfully. "And protective.” “Not because he wants to bed me,” you dismissed, sipping on your wine. “I was his only friend for a long time, so naturally he likes to hoard my company. And he likely is only so protective of me because he thinks of me as a kind of elder sister to him.” “Ah—so you mean he wants to bed you and wed you.” You choked on your drink, giving Jacaerys a scandalised look.

7k words, aemond x fem!reader x jacaerys. childhood friends to lovers (except it's cousins), political drama. chapter warnings for targaryen incest and themes of xenophobia/racism and misogyny. dividers from @/cafekitsune.

SERIES SUMMARY & MASTERLIST.

XII. FIVE OF SWORDS

You did not really know what to think of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

On a political level, you did not think highly of her. Once you were old enough to understand your role in court—that is, a womb to be eventually traded in return for gold or swords or support—you became confused with Rhaenyra’s behaviour. She married Ser Laenor Velaryon and then immediately began to fornicate with another man, which was fine. But it was strange that she chose a man with fair skin and dark hair for her paramour, rather than someone who looked more like Ser Laenor, and it jeopardised her standing in court. It felt silly to you, and was one of the reasons why, at the tender age of ten, you vowed to marry a handsome lord who was inclined to desire women: if you were too busy being happily bedded by your husband, then you would not have the time or wherewithal to lay with another man and give birth to any bastards. (Certainly, you would not be interested in having any affairs if Cregan Stark was your lawful husband.)

On a personal level, you misliked Rhaenyra. You had never forgiven her for Aemond’s eye. As a child you had been furious at turns with Jace, Luke, and Aemond for the debacle, but as an adult you could not fault three children for an accident. What you did fault was Rhaenyra’s actions following it: treating Aemond’s eye like it was an afterthought to the bastardy talk, as if her son had not just irreversibly rendered him half-blind. As if Aemond did not lay feverish in bed for weeks after, as if he did not need to spend months retraining his body to his altered vision, as if he were not twice as vulnerable to attacks from bullies and swords and morningstars. As if he did not need to live with the knowledge that his very body was a disposable thing to his father, something that could be overlooked so long as Rhaenyra’s claim could be protected.

No—you did not like Rhaenyra.

You were certain that Rhaenyra did not feel so poorly about you, however. She never concerned herself with you when you were a child, and you did not fault her for it: you were not close in age, and she was heir apparent to the throne. She mostly knew you as someone whom Jace had befriended, and she liked you for it. Occasionally she would invite you to dinner with them in the Small Hall, or let you break your fast with her family. Sometimes she would talk with you then, and humour your questions about the Small Council (Do they know where my father is? Will they banish me from the Red Keep? Is the Hand really going to betrothe me to an old man?), and sometimes she would look at you with something close to pity.

Rhaenyra probably did think well of you. Still, it felt like an obvious lie when she called you into her chambers the day after your father’s funeral and said, “You know I have always been very fond of you.”

“Thank you, Princess,” you said graciously, immediately. “I have always been so grateful for your kindness, and especially for allowing me to spend time with Jacaerys.”

She smiled at you. You returned it, careful not to let the wariness show in your eyes.

“It was the least I could do. I owed it to your father—he was very kind to me. He would sail back from Lys and bring me trinkets, and I loved them so. I do not think Prince Daemon liked the attention he gave me, however.”

You shuddered to think of the suggestion of romantic jealousy between Daemon, your father, and Rhaenyra. You truly would walk into the sea if she disclosed a sordid relationship between herself and your father right now.

Outwardly, however, you only gave her a sentimental look. “I had never known that. Were the two of you close?”

“He was often away from King’s Landing, so I knew him not well—but I knew him well enough. And my husband, of course, was fond of him.” She smiled. “Now that your father is gone, Daemon and I feel that it is only right that we care for you.”

You did not comment on the fact that your father had been gone for nearly ten years already. “Oh,” you said, your eyes growing hot as you remembered to cry. The tears were easy to summon and mostly from frustration at knowing that your father’s death was being used in these petty games of court, but Rhaenyra need not know that. “That's—that’s very kind of you.”

“I know Jacaerys is very fond of you too,” she continued. “If you need to continue leaning on him, know that I will be happy to see it.”

“Of course.” You wiped your eyes. “I am ever so thankful for his help during my petition. And your husband’s too. It is a kindness I cannot repay.”

“As I said, it is only right.” Rhaenyra gave you a long look, then seemed to make a decision. She reached for something on the table beside her, then placed a velvet box in front of you. “Please—take this.”

Your look of surprise was genuine when you opened it. Inside was a pair of earrings—from the rippling sheen of the reflected light, Valyrian steel, so dark that it was nearly black. Rubies glimmered among the delicate metalwork, a bold red. You knew only of one person who had ever worn jewellery like this: “My mother’s?”

“Not quite, but close. Your father brought it back from one of his trips to Lys and gifted these to me, but I have not had much chance to wear them as of late—they are a young person’s jewels.” She gave you a look that was distinctly motherly, which made you feel distinctly uncomfortable. “I feel that it is only right that these go to you, rather than being wasted on my vanity.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “Thank you, Princess.”

You had a feeling where she would be going with this.

“It would be a great honour to me,” she said, “if you were to wear these at the upcoming feast.”

It was with great effort that you did not sigh.

“Of course, Princess.”

XIII. TWO OF SWORDS

There was nothing less you wanted to do than to attend the banquet meant to precede the next day’s tourney. This reluctance had less to do with the loss of your parents (though that was undeniably a factor; you were still looking forward to the day you could crawl into the dragon pit and wail in solitude) and more to do with the dread of navigating the court. Within the Red Keep, wearing the wrong colour dress to sup alone could earn you the ire of half the castle; choosing the wrong one for this banquet could quite literally kill you.

Alicent expected you to wear green, as would the Tyrells. Rhaenyra expected you to wear her earrings, which were obviously meant to be paired with black and red. It would insult one faction or the other if you did not respect their wishes, but at this point, you also had no desire to align yourself with either. Rhaenyra had not convinced you of her cause, and if you played too nicely with the Hightowers now then they would take that as a sign that they could further abuse you as they pleased in the future.

On the other hand, you did not want to offend anyone too much. Cultivating a relationship with the blacks might be useful in the future, though your greatest concern was the Hightowers—neither your coin in Braavos nor the power of your dragon could save you if the Hand decided to poison you. That could be a very real risk as you currently had no heir. Should you be killed, the money in the Iron Bank would fall to your next of kin: King Viserys on paper; Alicent Hightower in practice.

No, you could not openly antagonise the Hightowers. However, appalling them? Probably fine. Alicent already found you appalling on a daily basis, and the Hand made it no secret that he was happy to write you off as the daughter of a foreign bed slave whenever it was convenient. You were sick of it. If they were going to accuse you of being a whore, then let them suffer the shame of having raised one.

When you walked through the heavy oak doors into the Great Hall, a hush fell over all the lords and ladies present. A few noblewomen covered their open mouths with their hands, emphasising their shock and disapproval. It was already difficult not to laugh at them, but you almost barked when you saw Jace’s reaction to what you were wearing: he very clearly choked on his wine and nearly spat it out. The sudden flush on cheeks probably was not from the Arbor gold, either. You winked at him, hoping Alicent would notice.

Rhaenyra, sitting next to him, seemed amused at the Queen’s own scandalised expression. Of all the King’s party present, you greeted her first, curtsying as best as you could in your delicate, green silks. Lysene clothing was really not made for Westerosi customs, you thought; there was not a lot of material around your waist to lift, as most of it was cut to reveal your thighs, and the view it gave of your décolletage as you bowed the was… well, it did not leave much to the imagination. Nor did any other part of the dress. The silk was so sheer that it revealed far too much when the light struck it a certain way.

“What an interesting choice of dress,” Rhaenyra remarked, the corner of her mouth lifting. Her gaze caught on the rubies dangling from your ears; you smiled.

“I chose to wear Lysene silks today to match the earrings you gifted me, Princess,” you said. “The dress was from my mother’s old wardrobe. The colour clashes a bit with the red, but it was all I had on hand, I'm afraid.”

“I’m sure.” She seemed neither convinced or upset. “Well, both the earrings and the dress look beautiful on you, my dear. Wouldn't you say so, Jacaerys?”

Jacaerys composed himself quickly enough, but you noticed that he was careful to look only at your face as he spoke. Still, he composure had returned when he replied, “You look very lovely tonight, my lady. I shall need to ask you for a dance later.”

“I look forward to it. Come find me when it pleases you, my prince.” You curtsied again, turned away, and tried not to cackle at the expression that Jace made when he realised just how much leg your dress showed. You were fairly certain that Rhaenyra was herself trying not to laugh at her son's expense, smiling into her goblet as she watched his reaction.

Alicent, on the other hand, did not seem nearly so amused.

“You… Lyseni,” she said, managing to make a very neutral word sound incredibly pejorative, “have very unusual styles of dress.”

“I would not know. Having been born in King’s Landing, I am unfamiliar with Lysene styles as a whole, my Queen,” you replied calmly. “This dress is from my mother’s old wardrobe. It was the only green dress I owned—you know I do not wear the colour much.”

“I would have been happy to have had a dress made for you,” she said, voice tight. “You are our kin, after all. We are happy to ensure that members of the royal family dress as royals should.”

“I did not want to burden the Crown’s coffers, as I know they are limited,” you parried, and Alicent’s expression nearly put you in stitches. “Is my betrothed here tonight, my Queen? I should like to finally meet him, if he is.”

Part of you had hoped that this outfit would disgrace you too much for an introduction to the great house of the Reach. You were even hopeful for it when Alicent advised her father that you were not dressed suitably for a formal introduction, but the Hand insisted on it. In the end, Alicent had you meet Lady Tyrell at the behest of her father.

Lady Tyrell seemed an interesting woman. She served as the regent of Hightower given her son Lord Lyonel’s young age. Apparently significantly less pious than the Queen, Lady Tyrell took your appearance in stride.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” she said after a curtsy. “I saw your petition in the throne room a sennight ago, and I could not help but ask for an introduction after that… you are a very eloquent speaker. I am sorry to hear about your father, by the way. I recall it was said he was a diplomat in Lys and that your mother was a woman of the Lysene court—is this dress something of hers?”

Woman of the Lysene court. You liked the way Lady Tyrell talked, as well as her values: apparently irreligious. You wondered what she and her house wanted from you. If she saw you during the petition, it was most likely all the gold you were arguing over. Highgarden was not short of wealth, but they always wanted more for it.

“It was indeed left behind by my mother before she returned to Lys,” you replied. “And I thank you for your kind words. Everything I know, I have learned from the Queen—she took my education into her own hands after my father passed, you see…”

The two of you exchanged pleasantries with one another. You painted an image of Alicent that had her in the golden light of the Seven and wearing a halo; the Queen’s posture relaxed visibly as she listened from nearby. When it came time for you to meet Arthur Tyrell, though, you noticed her stiffen again.

Ser Criston next to her also bristled. His eyes were heavy on Ser Arthur. He was startlingly handsome with his Tyrell features (though not as handsome as any Stark men, you noted), with a full head of mahogany curls and honey brown eyes that nearly shone gold at times in the chandelier light. He had a charming, playful smile that you did not see very much in your circles. Jace was too serious to make that sort of expression, Aemond too frightening, and Aegon too slovenly.

Most importantly, though, Arthur seemed not to mind your dress, taking you without hesitation to the dance floor.

“I was not told my betrothed would be so beautiful,” he said.

“And I was not told mine would be so handsome,” you replied swiftly, deciding to humour him. Then you added, wanting to know why Ser Criston seemed so disdainful of him, “Though I have heard tales of his bravery in the Marches.”

“Exaggerations, I'm sure,” he replied.

“Then I would like to hear the truth of it from the man himself.”

Arthur was humble, yet glib of tongue. He replied to all your questions respectfully, but not without a little flirtation or humour, and always with charisma. You found yourself frustrated: you could not tell how such a charming and well-accomplished man had earned the ire of Ser Criston. His only damning trait seemed to be that he was a bastard, which you could not care less about.

It seemed that you could only get the truth from the white cloak himself. When you were nearly about to signal for Ser Criston to ask you for a dance—the two of you had such a protocol, for times when you were made to dance with some lecher and Aemond was not around to extract you—when the one-eyed prince himself instead came to your aid.

“Pardon the interruption, Ser Arthur,” a familiar voice said behind you, “but I would like to trouble my cousin for a dance.”

“Of course, my Prince,” the knight replied, and he handed you off to Aemond gracefully. Once you were in Aemond’s arms, he nodded at Ser Arthur, his mouth curling into a kind of smile. You could not decide if his expression was handsome or unsettling. Certainly, it was not friendly.

“You do not like him,” you said in Valyrian, as Aemond led your feet across the marble floor.

He brought you close to him before he replied, in the same language, “I do not like him being around you. I spoke with Ser Criston and found his background… troubling.” Aemond had you twirling, the sheer silks around your waist swaying with your movements. “The knowledge makes me worry about the way he was looking at you.”

Your brow arched. “He looks at me the way that most men have looked at me my entire life.”

“I do not like it when most men look at you.”

A laugh. “So many japes from you lately!” The two of you circled one another as a lute sung delicately. “Well, why do you dislike the gaze of this man? Tell me about the crimes of my betrothed—I shall soon die from suspense if you do not.”

Aemond brought you close. Your hand on his chest, his lips against your ear, he said, “The man raped and pillaged towns in the Dornish Marches. Some of the worst crimes Ser Criston has ever seen in battle—an offence to the Seven, he said.”

Your expression fell. Aemond led you along in the dance, not allowing you to stop—likely remembering the watching crowd. He kept his face so near to yours; it took a moment to realise he was hiding the shock in your eyes from the gazes of others.

After a long moment, you remembered yourself, and you began to think of all the implications. It now made sense that Lady Tyrell did not care about your choice of dress: it was fine that you were a harlot, as she meant to marry you to a raper. What confused you, though, was that Queen Alicent had so readily agreed to the match as well: she may have disapproved of whores, but she openly despised rapers and felt they should all be gelded, just as the Seven-Pointed Star commanded.

“Does your grandsire know?” you asked, moving deftly around your partner. “Your mother?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Aemond said, “but I suspect they do.”

You nodded, tried not to look too grave as you said, “I will find a way out of this marriage.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Tyrells watching the two of you. You pressed yourself against Aemond, likely more intimately than any dance would warrant, so that you could whisper into his ear. “Were you serious about finding a means to avoid my betrothal?”

“Not only serious—I have already planned it.” Aemond smiled in his unsettling, handsome way once more. “Play along in the morrow. Remember: Any consequences will not befall you.”

What consequences? you meant to ask—but then you were interrupted.

“Pardon me,” a new voice said in the Common Tongue, and the both of you broke apart to see Jacaerys. “I wanted to make good on my promise to dance with my cousin.”

It was a command, not a request. Aemond studied him for a moment, and you wondered for a moment if they would begin to posture with each other, but he then acquiesced.

“Of course, nephew,” Aemond replied. He then switched to Valyrian: “Take care not to pass her off to any untoward characters. I'd rather her stay even in your hands than certain others. Bring her to me once you are done.”

Your cousin gave you a long look, his single eye glinting strangely. He brought your fingers up, and you did not realise what he was doing until his lips were pressed chastely against your knuckle. You stared blankly at the foreign sensation, at the soft touch of his mouth against your skin, unable to comprehend what was happening. But the realisation came only a moment later, suddenly and violently:

Aemond Targaryen was kissing your hand.

You nearly jerked back. What are you doing? you wanted to ask, but Aemond did not give you much time before turning to leave, smiling as he retreated to the high table.

You gave him a bewildered look as he disappeared into the crowd. Jacaerys, himself, seemed equally surprised. As he took your hand into his, he began questioning you: “Did I misunderstand,” he asked quietly in the Common Tongue, “or did my uncle just entrust you to me?”

Your speech remained in Valyrian: “You understood correctly, though you may have missed the backhanded insult. I believe he doesn't want me back in the arms of my betrothed. Aemond and Ser Criston mislike the man.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. Or, well—it is more like they abhor him.” You were uncertain if Jace knew the words for ‘rape’ or ‘pillage’ in Valyrian, so you adopted the Common Tongue once more, smiling brightly: “Nevermind all of that. We can talk later, when we are somewhere more… private.”

Multiple eyes glanced away, eavesdroppers averting you now that they'd been caught. You figured that those around you thought you were speaking of the kiss, and not of the reputation of Ser Arthur. Certainly, Queen Alicent must have, for her jaw was so tight and angry that she could have only been thinking of her son’s open favour toward you, or perhaps the betrothal that he just put into jeopardy. You supposed it was also a particularly sordid sight for her given the new whispers surrounding you: Jacaerys was said to have carried you back to your room in the early hours of the morning a few days ago. To anyone who believed the rumour, it must have looked to some like you were seducing both princes, their hearts in your cruel thrall even though you were now betrothed to a Tyrell. Luckily for you, however, the whisper had come from a kitchen maid who was a reputed liar: even though it was true, most were sceptical of the tale.

Alicent likely believed them, though, for she had given you a long lecture about preserving your innocence for your betrothed during your last meeting, followed up by an implication that there were ways in which one could feign virginity on a marriage bed should they have fallen into sin before their wedding night. She alluded to the old trick of staining one’s sheets with chicken’s blood while their groom was distracted. Though you were not offended at her belief that you had ruined yourself, you were offended at her belief that you would be stupid enough to jeopardise a marriage in this way. Using chicken’s blood was good enough for commoners, but it hardly worked for noblewomen. Septas and maesters would not be fooled by such a lazy deception, and you were both well-aware of it.

Thinking of the conversation made your head pound, so you turned to your only solace at a time like this: “Would you like to sit and have some wine, Jace? I have not yet tried the Arbor gold.”

“Of course.” Jace took your hand in his, led you to the high table at the front of the hall. A maid promptly approached with goblets and wine, which you were glad to drink, hoping for the sweet oblivion of complete inebriation. Jace’s brow lifted as he watched you.

“I did not know that you had grown into such a drinker.”

“Only during banquets,” you said dryly. “I find that I cannot otherwise endure them.”

“How ironic,” Jace remarked. “This is my first in the Red Keep, and I find myself envying you for having attended so many.”

You were startled as you realised that the Crown Prince, of all people, had neither attended a tourney nor a banquet in King’s Landing solely because of the petty infighting in his family. “Sorry,” you said immediately. “I’d forgotten this was your first feast here. I’ll try to be better company.”

“You are always good company,” Jace reassured you, “though I would enjoy a proper dance with you later. We’ve never danced together before, you know—I meant it when I said I would want one.” He smiled, and you felt your stomach flutter in a dangerous way.

Crown prince, crown prince, crown prince, you repeated silently, trying to remind yourself that you could absolutely not become besotted with the heir to the throne. If Jacaerys were to be the object of your longing (a futile one, for it was an impossibility that you could ever marry him), then you would never find a lord for yourself whom you could be happily bedded by. There was not a single noble man in the Realm who had a face that could compete with his—not even Cregan Stark!

“I'm not a very good dancer,” you remembered to reply. “I may step on your feet.”

“You seemed fine with my uncle.”

“Only because he's strong at leading. It isn’t unlike swordplay, which he excels at.” You sighed. “It is a wonder that I did not embarrass myself in front of Ser Arthur.”

Jace gave the Tyrell a sidelong glance, contemplative. “I have heard from the Queen that he is now your betrothed,” your cousin said, “which I imagine must make my uncle unhappy, as he clearly wants to bed you.”

You gave Jace a tired look. “Many people believe that I am Aemond’s lover, but I can assure you that the assertion is false.”

“That kiss did lead me to believe that he would prefer it to be true.”

“I would not pay it any mind. A kiss on the hand is a simple enough courtesy, not necessarily a sign of courtship. And even if it was unusual for him, he is likely only plotting something.” Something that the Queen will hate as much as the Tyrells, you supposed.

“Plotting something, or acting on a lifelong desire?” He studied you carefully. “Aemond has always been very jealous over you. And protective.”

“Not because he wants to bed me,” you dismissed, sipping on your wine. “I was his only friend for a long time, so naturally he likes to hoard my company. And he likely is only so protective of me because he thinks of me as a kind of elder sister to him; it was the role I played to him when we were children.”

“Ah—so you mean he wants to bed you and wed you.” You choked on your drink, giving Jacaerys a scandalised look. “What? Sibling marriage is the custom of our family.”

“I meant that he thinks of me as a sister in the Andal way.”

“Yet none of us are Andals—including yourself, dear cousin. You are a Targaryen.”

Your mood soured as he reminded you of the fact. You could not help but think of how eager you were to run away from that Small Council room a fortnight ago, so aggrieved were you by your kin.

“Can you ask your lady mother to disown me from the family?” you begged, and Jace snorted.

“Only you would reject the life of a trueborn Targaryen,” he said, shaking his head. He likely meant it as a jape, but the words had a bitter timbre to them, and you felt torn between guilt and resentment. Trueborn or not, Jacaerys had a number of people protecting his place in this family—yourself included. The same could not be said of you.

“My trueborn family rejected my mother. I may as well be a bastard.”

“Every bastard still wants for a family.”

“A family, sure, but I imagine not always their family by blood. Most of them do well enough. I feel I would.”

“You wouldn't really want to leave it all behind,” he accused.

“No,” you admitted. “I thought briefly of running away, after I was told of my father's death. But now there are people here I care for too much. Like Aemond, or Wildfyre.”

“And?” Jace prompted.

“I suppose I like Luke well enough.”

“How cold.”

You smiled at the prickly look he feigned. “I would miss you terribly, Jace. But I tire easily of all the politicking in these walls.” You sighed heavily. “If she cannot disown me, could you ask Princess Rhaenyra to marry me off to someplace far from King’s Landing? And not to any Targaryen men, please.”

“I have little say in such matters, but if you'll take a Velaryon, I could get you as far as Dragonstone.”

Aemond was nearby, clearly listening, and you realised now that Jace must have noticed. You smiled at your dark-haired cousin, amused.

“A tempting offer,” you replied playfully, “but you’d become a Targaryen once you ascend the throne, and I'd also be back here once more when that happens. I'm afraid I'll need to decline.”

Jacaerys played at disappointment, clicking his tongue. “Ah, well, it was worth a try.” He picked up his own goblet from the table, took a draught. “There’s always the King Beyond the Wall. Is that far enough for you?”

“I would rather face the Others than Otto Hightower,” you said dryly. “Certainly, I would fear them less.”

You expected Jace to laugh, but he only studied you, as if curious. After a moment of consideration, he leaned in and asked, “Would you care to step outside with me, my lady? For some fresh air.”

Fresh air was clearly not what he wanted. Nevertheless, you agreed and allowed Jace to help you out of your seat. As you rose, you glanced at Aemond, worried for his reaction, but his attention was not on you. He was speaking with Ser Arthur, you realised, who did not seem pleased by whatever Aemond was saying. Your brow furrowed, and you wondered if you should intervene, but Aemond glanced at you then, the corner of his mouth hooked slyly, his gaze as unsettling as it was reassuring.

Play along in the morrow, Aemond had told you, so you decided whatever he was planning was not your business tonight. You turned on your heel and took Jace by the arm, hurrying away.

IX. SEVEN OF CUPS

The night was cool and quiet, but you knew that it was not empty. You were certain that there would be many curious about why the Crown Prince would want to step outside and close the doors to the Great Hall behind him, obviously seeking privacy. Guards were posted in the courtyard below despite being within the inner castle walls; the balcony above you was silent when there should have been chatter and music from the banquet drifting from its threshold. Someone had stepped outside and closed the doors to escape the noise—meaning they could now listen to you rather than the noise of the feast.

You had long ago noticed that some of the sordid rumours about you involved your moments when you believed you were utterly alone with another person, or when you moved through supposedly empty halls and corners of the castle. From this, you suspected that there were eyes and ears placed all throughout the Red Keep. When you brought this up to Aemond (talking quietly in the dragon pit, where Wildfyre and the many other dragons ensured that you were both alone), he outright confirmed it. Larys Strong is quite adept at collecting whispers, he had commented. The Queen often consults him on them. King Viserys, though, has never paid him any mind—he does not see the value in knowing the whispers of King’s Landing.

When you asked Aemond how he had collected such whispers, he merely smiled.

After this conversation, you quickly surmised that all adept players at court had eyes and ears to aid them. You had not realised how much you had taken this knowledge for granted until Jacaerys disclosed that he had wanted to step onto the balcony to get some privacy.

“Privacy?” You made a face. Dragonstone had evidently spoiled the man. “This is not a private place. I do hope you aren't planning on saying or doing anything that may be seen as untoward. The Queen already believes that you have taken me abed and thoroughly ruined my innocence.”

Jacaerys cleared his throat. Moonlight tended to wash out the colour from anything illuminated by it, but you suspected he had gone red. “I will say nothing that will fuel those rumours. I only wanted privacy from my uncle, lest he be offended by my suggestion.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Is someone truly listening?”

“You’re within the walls of the Red Keep. Someone is always listening, except for in a scarce few places. I can show you some other time where I like to go for real privacy.” You tilted your head. “But let's hear your suggestion. I am curious to know what would offend Aemond so.”

“The Hightowers,” Jace started, “have mistreated you these past few days. You japed about it just now, but the Hand and the Queen have sche—”

You placed a finger to his lips, and his eyes widened, startled. He swallowed thickly, only relaxing when you moved your hand away. You then smiled and finished for him: “Yes, the Hand and the Queen upset me during my petition. But it is well-known that they always have the best interests of the Realm at heart—it is clear they were only acting for the benefit of the Seven Kingdoms when they contested my inheritance.” Giving Jace a meaningful look, you asked, “What of it?”

Jacaerys caught on quickly, thank the Seven. “It is understandable that they have the best interests of the Realm at heart, but I keep the best interests of yours in mine. I was not entirely jesting in the Great Hall: I would take you away from the Red Keep, if you so wished.”

You stared. “Take me away?”

“To Dragonstone,” he offered plainly. “Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon would happily host you for as long as you desired. I would be there to keep you company during your stay, as would Luke.”

“Ah. Do they want to take me as their ward?” It was unsurprising, you thought. They likely wanted your inheritance. But you played the fool: “Or do they need a dragonrider? I know Lord Velaryon has trouble with pirates every now and then. It would be sensible for Prince Daemon to solicit my help as they are allies, I suppose.”

“They aren't inviting you. I am.” You blinked at him, obviously uncomprehending, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “You could see the castle,” he began slowly. “Visit the beaches. Fly to Braavos to oversee your wealth, and I would accompany you if you liked. Vermax would be happy for it—I do believe he misses you.”

It was hard to believe in the generosity of the offer, though you knew generosity was in Jace’s nature when it came to you. Still, you needed to confirm it: “You want me to come to Dragonstone… for leisure?”

“If leisure is what you want, then yes. If for some reason you wish to labour, though, I am sure there is plenty to be done.” He smiled. “You could teach me Valyrian, to start.”

There was really nothing in the world that sounded more appealing than living in a darkly beautiful castle by the sea and tutoring a gorgeous prince who wished to take you to Braavos. Certainly, it would be the fantasy of any other maiden.

Still, you hesitated. “I am unsure if this is wise…”

Jacaerys leaned in then. “You've always wanted to get away from the Hightowers,” he said quietly, “even when we were children. Now is your chance.”

You raised a brow, wondering how you let that slip to anyone other than Aemond. “Did I tell you that?”

“You quite literally told me to rescue you from them.”

“Did I?” you asked, perplexed. But you recalled it a moment after: when Princess Rhaenyra was sent to Dragonstone and Jacaerys was downtrodden about parting from you. He had just lost Ser Harwin, so you’d felt poorly for him—had Aemond not been so feverishly ill from the loss of his eye, you might have actually asked Rhaenyra to host you so that you could stay with Jace a while. It made your heart ache that you couldn't be with him, especially since you knew what it felt like to see your father leave your home and then never return. So of course, you promised Jace that you would someday be reunited, and that you would stay by his side then.

You hadn't thought about those words in years.

“Oh,” you murmured, oddly touched, “yes, I suppose I did say that, didn’t I? I thought you would have forgotten about it by now.”

He gave you an expression that you couldn't quite decipher. “Of course I remembered,” he said earnestly. “You asked me to take you away—so let me.”

You stayed quiet for a long moment as you considered the offer. You heard the scrape of soles against brick on the balcony above you, the clink of knights’ armour below. All the eyes and ears of the Red Keep pressed upon you, and it made your heart pound.

“I can't,” you spoke carefully. You leaned forward—close enough to murmur into his ear. “The Queen has already arranged for the Tyrells to take me as a ward. If your mother were to take me on instead, then it would put both her and the Queen in an uncomfortable position. The Tyrells would be offended by them both. I do not think Princess Rhaenyra would want to malign a great house.” And I do not wish to know what Otto Hightower would do to me if I put Queen Alicent in such a sensitive position, you left unsaid.

You could see, in Jace’s eyes, his understanding, acceptance, and eventual disappointment in the reality of your situation.

“It would be wiser for you to stay,” he finally agreed, “but do know that if either Highgarden or the Red Keep become unbearable, there will always be a place on Dragonstone for you.”

You peered beyond the balcony, into the dark night where you imagined many eyes watching you. From the way Lady Tyrell had talked to you, you could tell that Highgarden would likely not be too different from the Red Keep—full of silver-tongued flatterers, keen whisperers, and elaborate schemes. It was exactly the kind of politicking that made you so eager to get away from King’s Landing—the kind of politicking that you would find anywhere there were those who thirsted for power.

And few people in the Realm desired power more than Rhaenyra.

“It is generous of the blacks to offer this,” you said finally. “If I could follow you to Dragonstone, then I would.”

“It is not the blacks who offer it,” Jacaerys replied. “I meant it when I said that I was inviting you. I only wish to offer you a place in which you are safe. If you ever find yourself wanting a home without flattery and falsehoods, then come join me on Dragonstone. I shall never turn you away.”

You gave him a wistful smile.

“You are very kind, Jace,” you replied gently, “and I love you dearly for it. But no such home could ever exist for a Targaryen.”

END PART IV

bonus: I posted a super horny excerpt of a fic where Jace is thinking about ******* you in that dress. enjoy! (yes he was losing his mind fr during that scene. aemond too but he was better at hiding it)

[jifloulette]

it was foolish enough that you fell for his trap, but now you know how to play the game — no way were you going to let him win.

what ? . . . hcs of blue lock men reacting to what you did the second you found out about their hidden affairs. who ? . . . shidou ryusei, reo mikage, itoshi sae warnings ? . . . swear words, reader is a diva, toxic men, cheating

SHIDOU RYUSEI !

The second you found out he cheated on you through a call he had with his so called “manager” when he was stepping out of your shared house, saying things like “don’t worry, babe.. y/n’s dumb as fuck. they’ll never know.” — you really didn’t mean to eavesdrop but when you heard him mentioning your name it got you curious. And like what they say, curiosity killed the cat.

It was safe to say you had your fair share of cries and screaming that night. Not because you were sad — well you might’ve been but it was mostly due to anger. Why couldn't you stop the tears flowing down your face and your eyes from going blurry when you knew this was always going to happen? He just dated you for clout. Swarms and swarms of fans came flocking to him so in order for them to stop, he chose to love one of them. You were just an easy victim.

You were oblivious to his plan to keep you with him for his own good at first but his actions inside and outside of the home you two shared showed that he really couldn’t care less about you.

You went from always asking him if he ate, packing him lunch, “i love you” messages daily to barely doing the bare minimum in a relationship.

You weren’t lying if you said that you did want Ryusei to notice about the change in your behavior recently — to reassure you that he genuinely loved you. Adding that it was a honest mistake and he’d try to change.

It was a stupid thought really. How delusional did you have to be to think that? Looking at the man who you once loved so sickly makes your blood boil knowing about his true intention about being with you was.

So when an article blows up about Ryusei getting caught by paparazzi making out another with another woman in a soccer event of his, you could only laugh bitterly.

You immediately packed your things, a medium-sized white luggage and a black duffel bag ready to go. You didn’t pack all of them, some of your trinkets and clothes were things he gave to you because of how “special” you were to him. It irked you knowing that he only gave it to you out in public, never in private.

So imagine his surprise when he sees you with your things on the way to your car, immediately running towards you so he could stop you.

He hugged you tightly, it really disgusted you knowing that this man who was holding you in his arms like his life depended on it had touched countless of women too. 

You could only do so much to push the behemoth of a man off you before laughing hysterically at how he looked so pathetic.

You told him to drop the act because you already knew what you meant to him. You were nothing more than someone who he used for his own comfort and privileges. You were a backburner, a rebound, a temporary person in his life full of fame and soccer.

He pleaded for you to hear him out so you let him, at least wanting to hear what this pitiful excuse the man in front of you had.

“Please don’t leave, y/n..! It was just a small mistake, she came onto me! I was drunk, I couldn’t do anything.. please I can’t live without you. You know everything I need, you know what to say and what to do. You’re everything I have besides soccer, I’ll be damned if you leave me.” 

You could almost feel like cussing the man out in front of you. I mean, the audacity? Saying that you were the love of his life, that he can’t live without you? It’s almost as if he never did anything to you, he was making you seem like the culprit!

You applaud his acting before giving him a nice, good slap to bring him back to his senses. You weren’t stupid, you know more than this feeble man could ever know in his entire life. 

Before leaving, you say something that leaves him speechless. 

“You know? Be glad you chose soccer as your career because you could never cut out for acting. Plus, shouldn’t you be happy that I’m leaving you? You can fuck around all the girls and guys you’d like! Don’t worry, it’s not like I’ll expose you or anything, oh wait! The public already knows.. boohoo”

REO MIKAGE !

You and Reo loved each other more than the two of you could ever know. Everyone knew that. You, Reo, and Nagi were the dynamic trio in your school, everyone saw that. You loved Reo because you just did, not for his popularity, his looks, and his money. 

Well maybe you were considering that last part ever since you discovered that he was fucking around some random girl in your class.

You really only found out when Nagi told you about it after 2 weeks of your boyfriend’s secret affair. Nagi really only knew after he eavesdropped the conversation the girl Reo was cheating on you with, saying that the girl said she was using him for clout and for his money. Something you’d never do to him.

To say you were angry was an understatement, you were fuming. The audacity of this man who you considered to be your first and last to do something as cruel and shitty as this?

So, you did what you had to do. Use his own fears and insecurities against him, being used. You knew it was brutal doing something like this, but was it really that bad compared to what he did to you?

You started off slow, asking him for a few hundred bucks before spending it on your heart’s desires. Reo noticed how most of your conversations was just you blatantly asking him for money before kissing him goodbye. To be honest, he was scared. Not because there was a chance of you using him but because you might’ve known about what he was doing behind your back and you were doing this as revenge.

Then, you started doing something bigger. He gave you free will of his credit card, saying that you deserved to treat yourself because you were his so called “love of his life”. You bought designer brands, buying jewelry that god knows you can’t afford, treating your friends for days and days. You had no thought behind your eyes but to just hurt the taro-haired boy for whatever he's worth.

And when he noticed the fatal drop in his savings, he finally confronted you. You could only really laugh at him for now only noticing your intentions recently.

He became disheartened — but really, who has he to be disappointed in what you did when he had done something much more evil? So when you told him that you knew about his little act, he could feel his heart drop.

He tried telling you that the girl who he supposedly “fucked” was just a bitch who could only create fake rumors but you’re not dumb, he knows that.

Shortly after, he became mad. He was screaming at you as if you started all of this. Victimizing himself, saying that if you really loved him, you would confront and talk to him about it like a normal person.

“You know what y/n?! Fuck you and your shit! If you really loved me, you would’ve done everything you could to keep me by your side! But not, you had to be a cunt about it and hit me with this mess! You know how insecure I am about all of this so w-why..?”

You were flabbergasted at his sudden breakdown — to be honest, you had more right to be mad at him than he was to you! I mean, who cheated in the first place? His father was a billionaire, so why did he care so much?

Likewise, you screamed at him. Telling the teared up boy in front of you that no one could ever love him like you did, adding that everyone who has ever had a crush on him were only after his status and fame.

“Okay, who the fuck are you to talk about shit like this again? The last time I checked, I wasn’t the one who cheated, huh?! So why do you care so much about what I do with your money? You did say that I deserved to treat myself so here I am! Go fuck that litte cunt all your life because all she’ll really love is your money, nothing else. Can you really call yourself a man? It’s funny how you make yourself the victim when I have more right to be mad at you?!”

Not to mention, you and Nagi also had something going on the second you found out about what he did. You told that to him as well, saying that even if Nagi was sloth-like, he took much more care of you than he ever could.

Oh and, the girl he was cheating with you on left him shortly after, her reason being that she had enough money to leave him, lol.

ITOSHI SAE !

People would view your relationship with Sae as destiny, i mean it certainly had to be fate, right? The light pink-haired man really didn’t let anyone in his life except for you. The two of you were happy in the world that you had created for yourselves! Or so you thought.

It turns out that Sae actually never loved you that much, you were just a replacement for his ex. You knew how harsh his past relationship with this girl was and boy, it frustrated you because how did he manage to play with your heart for two whole years?

Your efforts to make him love you didn’t go to waste, right? He did say he “loved” kissing you,  making sure to cuddle you every now and then. But who were you kidding, you could see right through his ice cold heart.

He never loved you for you, you were just an easy target, prey in other words. He knew you couldn’t deny his irresistible charms and fuck, was he right.

You fell for him the second he held your hand that one night in the club. It was a dangerous game to play, the relationship you two had was like russian roulette, except Sae knew where the bullet was. He made sure to let the bullet hit you.

How did you found out a bit, you ask? Well, when the two of you were on the couch, cuddling. He was whispering sweet nothings in your ear. unbeknownst to him, he had accidentally said the name of his ex. He didn’t notice he said it and as the lovestruck person you are, you didn’t say anything. You couldn't afford to confront him and have the possibility of him leaving you.

It happened a little 5-6 times before you really knew that it wasn’t you that was on his mind whenever he was with you, it was his ex. It was always going to be his ex. 

You’ve had cries and screams the moment you created that conclusion. It seemed as if you were pierced through the heart yet you still remained alive.

So, what better way to get revenge than letting him get a taste of his own medicine? Let him think you were cheating on him? Why not make him think you had something going on with his brother?

You had met up with Rin a few times before, but was only usually because he wanted help with something outside of soccer. Sae had seen you with his little brother enough times to know that your intentions to him were good. Even if they aren’t in good terms, he still has to care about him.

You started doing in minimally — only doing it every now and then. But now, it seemed as if you couldn't stop saying his little brother's name, it was like the man holding you as he was caressing your hair was no other than Rin. You wanted him to get hurt, it was the only reason you could think of as why you were still with him.

It's only when Sae had enough that he blew up on you, for the first time in years has he showed true emotions and anger. He was scary when mad, but you were terrifying. How dare he say that you were a bitch for supposedly cheating on him with his little brother?!

But really, you were just giving him a taste of his own medicine. A spoonful of what he was doing to you. If he's doing it to you, it's okay — but when it's you doing the same, you're suddenly the antagonist, the villain?! How narcissistic can someone be?

He was screaming all sorts of swears at you, adding that the only reason he was with you this long was only because you were a mere duplicate of his ex. A mirrored version of her, except you already knew that. It was a useless attack in order for you to get hurt.

"What the actual fuck, y/n? How the hell are you here cuddled up with me when the only person you could think of is my little fucking brother? What?! Did that bastard treat you as good as I did? You know, be glad I'm still here with you because you're nothing more than an exact replica of my ex. Yeah! That's the only reason I'm with you! You're just nothing but a gullible bitch!

To say you were revolted was an understatement, no words could describe the burning hatred you felt towards the pathetic excuse of a man in front of you.

You obviously would never back down from an argument. I mean, you had more reasons to be mad at him than he was to you. As much as you wanted to scream at him back, shout words that would be too harsh to say again, you just stayed quiet. He was throwing whatever was on the bed at you — blankets, pillows, even his own jacket.

You waited for him to cool down before saying your own side of the story. You were never the villain after all, he had to know that.

"I didn't even do shit with Rin, I was only doing the same thing you were doing to me! You think I don't know that your ex was on your mind just right now as we were cuddling? You think I don't know the reason why you're still with me?! I knew at least 2 months ago, the audacity you have to say all sorts of words at me as if I did something wrong? It's no wonder your ex was such a bitch to you!"

Then, you left his house shortly after. but of course, you wanted the public to know as well. Your ig bio had Sae's username tagged in it, which you removed. As well as any posts you had with him on all of your socials.

Let him clean up this mess he had created, let him put the fire he started out. Let the public and paparazzi attack him, asking for questions as to why you did all those actions which seemed as if the two of you were over. You were done with him after all, everyone clearly knew. You had made him do all the 'clearing up', it was his fault after all — why should you have to clean up after him?

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.

[band--psycho]

Vander x Reader - 5 Years Later...(Part 2)

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Requests are still open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

Part 2 to my Vander x Reader series - Part 1

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Thank you all for the continued support!💛

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Vander Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of grief, feeling of dega-vu

You knew the Undercity wasn’t the safest of places to go, at least that’s what your father had always told you. 

So why were you down here? 

Because as much as you appreciated your fathers protectiveness, what type of friend would you be if you let one of your closest friends go down there alone? 

A pretty shit one. 

Which is why, despite the risks, you went with Jayce down to the Undercity. 

Besides, seeing as you were training to be an Enforcer and Jayce was just a student at the academy it was basically your job to escort him and make sure that nothing happened to him; that’s at least what you’d tell Greyson if she asked where you’d been…and your parents, if they asked which you hoped they wouldn’t. 

“Remind me where we’re going?” You asked in a slightly hushed tone as the two of you turned a corner walking down a dimly lit alley, before 

“I need to get some supplies for a project I’m working on,” Jayce answered simply; with an optimistic gleam in his eyes. 

“What project?” you inquired, unable to keep your curiosity at bay; it had certainly been a while since you’d seen Jayce this excited about a project.

“It’s best I don’t tell you, until I can get it working,” he replied; his answer only furthering your curiosity, but perhaps it was for the best for you to know as little as possible…especially if the academy wasn’t aware of it, which by the seams of things, they weren’t. The less you knew the better; though it still played on your mind as the two of you continued walking through the Undercity.  

To most people the Undercity was just an underdeveloped land across the river, deep in the canyons,  beneath Piltover, filled with misfits and thugs; but as you walked through the lanes of the Undercity, you couldn’t help but admire the beauty of it. 

The beauty of how vibrant the lights atop of the shops shone in the darkness; the difference of industrial architecture, making each building its own, if only in a little way.

It was different from Piltover, of course, but beautiful nevertheless. 

Since you'd arrived down here you couldn’t shake this feeling of deja-vu…like you’d been here before. 

It was odd. 

You’d never been down here; not once; so why did it feel so familiar?

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you hadn’t realised Jayce had stopped walking until you walked into the back of him. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, hearing a small chuckle fall from his lips. 

“Lost in your own world again?” he teased, turning around to look at you. 

You simply rolled your eyes at his comment and looked at the building you’d stopped outside; a pawn shop. 

You shot Jayce a confused look; you didn’t understand what this place had that any of the shops in Piltover didn’t; except from some anonymity. 

Down here no one knew him. 

But that only caused the curiosity you had about his project to grow. 

“Stay out here, I won’t be long,” he said before disappearing inside the shop. 

You went to follow him, before you heard a song in the distance, that halted your steps. 

You knew it. 

But you were certain you’d never heard it before…

How did you know a song from the Undercity? 

You turned on your heel, following the sound of the song; you knew it was risky, venturing off into the Undercity alone and you knew Jayce would be worried if he came back outside and noticed you gone, but you couldn’t help it. 

It was like your feet had a mind of their own and before you knew it, you’d come to the source of the music, it was a bar, or at least that’s what you assumed it was seeing as it was called ‘The Last Drop’ and had a logo of a tankard in the middle of the name. 

‘Why does this place seem so familiar?’ you thought to yourself, your eyes narrowing as you stared at the building in front of you. 

You were about to take another step, before you felt someone grab ahold of your wrist; instinctively your training kicked in and your guard went up, ready to fight. 

That was until you saw that it was Jayce who was holding your wrist; he was panting slightly with a worried look in his eyes, “I thought something had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, guilt washing over you, “I didn’t mean to worry you,” 

“It’s okay,” he answered softly, tugging on your wrist slightly, leading you away from the bar, “Let’s just get out of here.”

And with that the two of you made your way past the pawn shop Jayce had been in, passing a little boy with white hair leaning against the wall, he had a proud smile on his face that was until he saw you. 

You waved at him politely, confused about why he was staring at you; but the little boy said nothing, he just continued to stare at you, his mouth hanging slightly agape as you vanished out of his view. 

All you could think about as you made your way back to Piltover was how strange today had truly been. 

The deja-vu, the song, the bar, the little boy….none of it was making any sense….

~~~~~~

Vander hated seeing Vi hurt; he also hated that she was a mirror image of how he was when he was younger, so eager to rebel against the topsiders…but it wasn’t that simple. 

That’s what he was trying to get her to understand.

Every action had a consequence. 

He knew that better than anyone. 

He was the one who was too stubborn to call off the uprising, because he wanted to show Piltover that they were worthy of not being left behind on all the grand new ventures Piltover were indulging in; and because of that, he lost so many people that were close to him. 

But no ones ghost was more haunting than yours. 

He just needed Vi to understand that violence wasn’t the way to play this. 

He knew Greyson would probably be paying him a visit soon; the kids, unintentionally, broke an agreement that he’d made with the current sheriff of Piltover, to keep a peace between topside and the Lanes. 

A peace that was now hanging by a thread. 

Once he was sure Vi’s injuries were clean, he rose from the table and began putting away the supplies he’d used to clean her cuts. 

“Vander…there’s something else,” Vi began, halting Vanders movements and making his attention focus back on her. 

“Go on,” he  said calmly, though in his mind he was dreading the next words that were going to come out of her mouth; she’d just been part of blowing up a building in Piltover, what more could there be.

“Ekko said….he said he saw Y/n,” 

Her words short-circuited his mind at the mention of your name.

“What?” he asked; thinking that maybe, somehow, he’d misheard what Vi had said. 

“He said he saw Y/n walking with that topside guy that came into the shop,” she repeated, noticing how Vanders eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to process her words. 

“That was partly why I went up there….to see if she was there,” she continued, rising from her seat, walking over to Vander and placing her hand on his arm. 

She knew how much Vander loved you. 

She knew how much losing you broke him. 

She knew how much losing you hurt both her and Powder; who’d grown so close to you in the few years prior to the uprising. 

That’s why she wanted to be sure that Ekko wasn’t wrong; she’d barely believed him herself when he first told her, but before the explosion happened, she was sure she heard your voice; but without actually seeing you, she couldn't be sure if it was you or if it was just the wishful thinking in her mind.

“She’s dead, Vi,” Vander stated; his voice remaining balanced; although the look in his eyes showed a growing sadness. 

“You’ve never believed that,” 

It wasn’t a lie; he didn’t believe it. 

He might’ve said that you were dead; but Vi knew that deep in his heart, he had never believed it.

He never found your body; and without your body, he could still cling on to the hope that you were alive. 

Vi never really understood why he couldn’t believe your death was real; but now she knew that he was right all along. 

“Ekko got it wrong, it can’t have been her.”

“Vander, he knows what she looks like….” Vi tried to counter, they all knew what you looked like from the photos Vander kept of the two of you; but Vander just went back to putting away the medical supplies before heading to the stairs. 

“He got it wrong,” he answered back, slightly harsher than he’d intended to,before leaving the basement entirely and heading to his own room. 

He all but collapsed onto the side of your bed; his eyes landing on the photo of you he kept on his bedside table. 

You were dead.

That’s what he kept telling himself. 

That’s what he'd had to tell himself for the last five years to keep his own sanity. 

But there was a little voice in the back of his head, a voice that reignited his failing hope���what if you weren’t…what if what Ekko said was true…?

Vander didn’t know what to believe….the memories from that day flooding back into his mind as the pain he’d felt re-entered his heart, tears fell from the Hound Of The Undergrounds eyes, as he tried to work out what to believe. 

What if all these years you’d been alive? 

Why were you in Piltover? 

Why hadn’t you come back to him? 

Did you blame him for what happened on the bridge….did you blame him for the deaths so many people had succumbed to…? 

Is that why you never came home?

So many thoughts were running through his mind; but even if his mind hadn’t settled on a decision, his heart had; he needed to find out the truth. 

And he would; just as soon as he’d smoothed everything out with Greyson about today's incident.

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-lone-librarian @conretewings @barbersjoy @eternallyvenus @trixiex2 @newlosadventures @eternalgoddessofart @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @nagislemontea @dazecrea

I apologise in advance to those who have asked to be on the taglist and aren’t - I’m not ignoring you, I just can’t tag you in it for some reason :(

[clarkeybabey]

❝ everybody wants a taste ❞

# summary; sharing is not always caring

# playlist; jealous, nick jonas, gold rush, taylor swift, the boy is mine - remix, ariana grande, brandy, & monica!

# word count; 1.2k

# note; I did not intend for this to be so long originally, whoops. kinda hate this

"And you're positive you don't wanna come along, darlin'," George asks for what seems to be the hundredth time this evening as he pulls his coat on, he's been begging for you to rethink your decision for the last twenty-five minutes, and you aren't budging this time.

Shaking your head, "I can't leave my baby two nights in a row, honey, that's outrageous," you frown, gesturing down to your dog who has cuddled herself up against the blanket that's still warm from the dryer. He groans, tossing his head back in an attempt to gain extra sympathy points, "Plus, all this laundry and love island to catch up on."

He comes trudging back towards you, flopping down on the bed dramatically, "Don't wanna go without you," he pouts and you kiss his jutted-out lower lip, when you pull back he's fighting a smile and losing miserably, "I'll be right here waiting for you to get back, I'll even try an' stay up for you, okay?"

Defeated he sighs, ""Kay, I love you," he kisses you this time, a real one, long and slow. His hand comes up to find the pulse point on your neck as his tongue slides against yours.

You catch on quickly, grabbing his shoulders and giving a light shove, "I love you and you know how much I enjoy your kisses, but go have fun with your friends, my lips'll be here when you get back home."

Standing up from where he had thrown himself just moments ago, mumbling, "Fine, fine, I'll fuck off," he throws a wink and a kiss at you as he walks from your shared room, you hear his keys jangle as he grabs them from the hook, followed by a third goodbye, and the door being pulled shut behind him.

You stay exactly how he left you for a while longer, at least until the washer beeps when you get up to swap the laundry around, you find Poppy sat by the door staring at you with her tail wagging a hundred miles per hour.

The idea of a walk this late without George has you wishing you had let him stay, "Sad world we live in, Pop, wishing I had a man to keep me safe from the bloody dark," you let out a breathy giggle to yourself at your words as you shove one of his hoodies over your head and slide your slippers on.

The door slams heavily behind you as you trudge down the stairs, the cool air nipping at your once-warm cheeks wind rash was the least of your worries as you make your way down the street lamp-lit sidewalk, every sense heightening. When Poppy stops to sniff one you fish your phone out of your pocket, tapping through your friend's Instagram stories.

When you get to Chris' you notice George in the background of a video of him and Arthur. Not just George though, him and a girl, he's leaned against the bar on his elbow, smiling at something shes said. It's friendly, and probably a fan, but why has she been touching his arm for what feels like ages? The video felt like it was nearly three hours long.

Screenshotting, you zoom in on the two, not even noticing the scowl that's situated on your face. You feel a pit in your stomach and it burns a hole straight through you, you're not usually the jealous type, but you're never left home either. Fans know you exist and they've slowed down the whole throwing themselves at him thing quite a bit, George never establishes boundaries, assuming they know where the line is.

Deciding you've seen enough of that, you tap through to the next slide, this time it's the four of them standing together, arms over each other's shoulders: Arthur, Chris, George, then the girl you swear you've never seen in your life. Both posts have been up for just under ten minutes.

That was enough social media for the evening, you internally establish on your walk home, turning your phone off just in time for it to buzz from what you assume is a text that you don't even bother glancing at.

Once you've made it back inside, you no longer feel like doing any more laundry, instead you kick off your shoes, hang your jacket up by the door, snuggle up in the warm duvet, and press play on your show. Before you know it you have watched two hours' worth of Love Island and fallen asleep, you don't even notice when the boys come fumbling back into the flat.

That is until George's cold hands meet your cheek, you push him away mumbling about him fucking off, and turn away from him. He snorts and apologizes with his hands up in surrender he knows you can't see, "Better change your clothes and brush your teeth, no outside clothes on my clean sheets," and he does just that before returning from the ensuite, scooting into bed behind you, pulling you into him.

You do your best not to let him cuddle up to you, letting your jealousy overpower how much you'd missed his presence alone, "Missed you lots, sweetheart, Chippo was asking 'bout you." You hum, not bothering with a verbal reply and he quickly picks up on how abnormally stiff you are against him.

"Something wrong," ignorance is bliss and sometimes your boyfriend is exactly that, but you can't blame him for being so confused this time. In his mind, he wasn't even home to piss you off so he's stuck raking through his mind in search of one thing, anything relatively bad he's done through your whole relationship

You shrug, finally speaking up, "No, jus' saw Chris' story, jealousy's a disease and mine chronic," he can hear the pout in your voice, doing his best to stifle a giggle, and failing as your feel rattle through his chest, "Nothing to be jealous of, darlin', she only knew me from your tiktok," he snorts as his fingers draw shapes on your back beneath your shirt.

And now you feel silly for ever thinking something strange was happening, this was exactly why you hardly ever got jealous, it was always something like that or "She just wanted me to get a picture of her with Arthur."

There was never a time where he made you feel as if you shouldn't be secure in your relationship, but when you're left alone your mind does such stupid things, "Dont feel silly, any time anyone comes up to you, I feel the same way, just bite my tongue, 'cause I don't want you to think I don't trust you."

"And before you say it, I know you trust me, if you didn't we wouldn't have me it this far," he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your nose, and finally your lips. He smiles against your mouth, and when he speaks again his toothpaste-y breath fans over your face, "Now g'night, beautiful, I love you more than you know."

All of a sudden you're a puddle in his arms, "Goodnight, I love you... so much," this time he can hear the smile in your voice at the sound of it he can't fight one of his own.

[terrifiedtrinket]

TW. YAPPING!!!!! and i think i say cum once or twice probablie

TGE TROLLS WOULD NOT SMELL GOOD !!!!!

i feel like at most they smell neutral??? or however tf bugs smell

but especially like while and before they play the game?? at the very least they dont smell traditionally nice.

they dont smell like flowrrs and nice things

ESPECIALLY NEPETA!!!! SHE SMELLS LIKE DEAD THINGS MOST OF THE TIME!! SHE STINKS OF ANIMAL AND BLOOD AND SWEAT AND SHE DOESNT SHOWER SHE LIVES IN A CAVE

like no hate to the person who said she would smell like sour candy but like….. why?

i feel like if the troll blood castes were scented, olive blood would have a more natural scent and they wouldn’t be sweet

AND EVEN THEM SHES STILL STINKY!!!!!

the meowrails stink. i love them. but they stink.

equius smells like BO and motor oil and nepeta probably smells like cat piss.

ALSOOOSODOSOSOSO i feel like it’s really weird when people imply or headcanon that the trolls have flavored cum?? like tht feels weird

i feel like even if they did it probably wouldnt be human flavors like chocolate

i dont even wanna think about what i think their cum would taste like tho so im not even gonna try to form an opinion. you do u mann(or do the homestuck trolls ig bc clearly thats ur thing)

UH

i mean clearly not all of their smells are unbearable because clearly the humans dont mind it too much(or at least dont say anything) but also a lot of the biggest offenders are dead so

gamzee smells like drugs. and. dead trolls.

he’s the only i can maybe see smelling sweet because of all the faygo

ik if they were humans they would stink too

like vriska would lie about taking showers i just know it. vriska would drench herself body spray and claim she showered.

trolls wouldn’t smell sweet at the very least

they come from murder land

they don’t smell like vanilla dream

[sepublic]

I also want to add to the Blight family dynamic with how Edric is apparently the least-favorite? In addition to him being the screw-up of the family, as seen with his storyline in Reaching Out. There's Dana half-joking that he's Odalia's least favorite child. Which suggests that Odalia doesn't entire see the twins as a unit, or does so in-part to find something to do with Edric.

I know Odalia brings up the twins as being perfect to Amity, but that's the thing; We only see her bring up the twins as a way to belittle Amity. But given Amity's first two appearances are about her being pitted against a peer by an adult she yearns for the approval of, I wouldn't be surprised if the twins had to hear the reverse, and neither party has it so good after all. It's all just a way to get them to compete so they do better.

This is personal HC/interpretation fueled by authorial headcanon, but between Amity as the Abomination engineer and covenscout that Odalia failed to be, possibly her way of ingratiating Blight Industries with the Emperor's Coven before it happened on its own... And Emira as the designated caretaker, the eldest matriarch who knows how to grab attention as an illusionist;

It feels as if Edric occupies this weird space where he's not really either parent and doesn't fill in a role Odalia can predict so she's like hmm. What to do with you! And she settles for continuing to lump him in with Emira because she loves the Twins aesthetic but otherwise can't be bothered to acknowledge both as individuals, plus Ed can back up Emira's showman purpose. So it's Edric just being dragged around by Emira, yet ironically Emira also feels like it's the other way around with herself and her siblings due to her parentified role. It's very much both when you're stuck together.

Edric does develop a thing for Potions but that's mixed magic, but on the other hand Odalia would totally make exceptions to expand into a new market, and the Potions industry could easily be a kindred spirit to her anyhow. Maybe he partly got into Potions as a way to earn his own function within the family; Dana once considered a storyline where Edric vied for Odalia’s approval against a fake Abomination child she preferred to rely on to win a competition over her own son! So the effort for her attention is characterization Dana might have in mind. But then Edric liked Potions for its own sake (as I HC with Emira initially doing Healing because of her parentified role), plus Beastkeeping is very much for himself.

And I've noticed that out of the three Blight kids, Edric is the only one not to interact with their father in the epilogue; He's next to him at Luz's Quincenera but he's also next to Emira. There's Doylist factors like paying off Eda and Edric's dynamic by having him at the university, and not having the space to have Edric reunite with Alador during that whole sequence. Because him and Amity both work away from him, yet Amity at least gets to hug her dad!

But I like to think it implies that Edric hasn't forgiven their father, which could play into what I've said before! Edric being aware he doesn't fit into their mom's plans as the unfavorite. Maybe there's some freedom in this; But it also makes him resent his mom for neglect specifically, and by extension his dad for being the master of neglect because at least Odalia pays attention to her daughters. And that considered storyline of the fake Abomination child… Alador would’ve had to create it for Odalia, right? His own dad supported this ‘replacement’.

So while Edric's willing to accept Alador's change of heart and not speak on behalf of how his sisters feel, he's not comfortable enough to hang out together as father and son. Edric can handle being in the same space with Alador when there's a bunch of other people as a buffer, when they're both focused on someone else anyhow. But as a pair it's like... Eugh. It might be sad, but never say never; And more importantly it’s rep for abuse victims who don’t want to forgive, even if their abuser IS doing and meaning better. Victims are entitled to that!

I also have to think back to this Grom art Dana posted when the episode came out, under the HC that the twins got stood up because like. Edric is doing some comforting of his own. And this was likely drawn shortly before the episode itself came out; So when Dana and the writers would’ve been writing S2A, which leaned more into Emira having the Eldest Daughter role. And the implication she has to look after her own twin of the same age.

Retcons and changes are always a thing but I could see a story; Edric trying to take care of his sister himself, both out of genuine concern but also as a way to make himself as not just the useless child nobody knows what to do with. To give himself a real agency and purpose. And this works just fine with Emira! Better that than to be the one doing the emotional labor all of the time. Offering his jacket isn’t much, but it’s something Edric can do to have some control in his life, and it’s solidarity with his twin, an acknowledgement that he sees her parentified status and is trying to help with that.

[nobodysdaydreams]

I don’t know to what extent the “they added stuff to Wicked Part 2” is true, but if they did add stuff, I’m gonna need the Wizard to face the music a little bit more because his story ends with him believing he murdered his own child for the stupidest of reasons and that needs more attention.

Not only is he a deadbeat and a powerless con man, but he puts a hit out on his own long-lost daughter (the witch) who once looked up to him as a hero. He even sends a lost little girl (Dorothy) to do the job, since he’s too much of coward to face the witch himself.

Does he do this because Elphaba is trying to kill him?

No, he does it because she’s calling out his animal abuse and won’t use her own super powerful magic to help her old man trick people into thinking he’s cool.

Do they at least have an “I am your father moment” like in Star Wars?

No, in the musical, she never finds out (though that might be for the best), but when the Wizard does, he had the audacity to act shocked and sad even though he was getting with random women in his youth and giving them all mysterious green beverages so really this shouldn’t be surprising, statistically he likely had a kid out there somewhere and if he “always wanted to be a dad” or cared as much as he claimed, he really should have been on that. But he was only concerned with dodging the child support payments, and now he thinks his only child is dead because of him.

So does he at the very least clear her name, accept whatever punishment the people see fit for his crimes, hold a funeral for Elphaba, or perhaps try to finish what she started by beginning to make right or undo the horrible crimes that he committed?

Nah. He’s just like “welp. The jig is up, time to skedaddle” and sadly gets in his hot air balloon and regretfully lets the breeze blow him away.

Like, no. He should not get away that easy. I want his stupid balloon to crash in the middle of a field where Elphaba and Fiyero find him crying over her green bottle and are like:

“Let me get this straight. You’re swept away to a magic land. Your first move is getting with random women and giving them mysterious magic green liquids before you con your way into taking over the land and silencing all the animals by making them literal scapegoats. Then, you’re looking for someone to help you keep up your charade, and a person whose age + 9 months is equal to the amount of time that’s passed since you got with those random women and gave them green elixirs shows up, a green person, the only green person in this entire realm, who is insanely powerful in a way no one can explain, and it never, never, occurs to you to check whether or not this is your child!???”

The Wizard (through pathetic tears as he lovingly strokes the green bottle): “I said I was a sentimental man. Never said I was a smart one. Someone green’s age + 9 months = time since I last saw a pretty woman and gave her a mysterious green beverage is very, very hard math.”

Fiyero: “Are you sure you’re not the one without a brain?”

[endereies]

BREAK UP DRUG - MS - PART 2

No Nut November - Day 23

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ When you stay over at the triplet's house, you confront Matt

Part 1

“He what.” You were sat down in between Nick and Chris, tears forming in your eyes anytime you uttered his name.

“He didn’t even say why! Just that he couldn’t tell me. Did I do something?” Solemn gasps pass your lips as you begin to sob once more. It didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. Skin had been scratched on your wrists, a sign of the failed grasp you had on him. It was just too much now.

The brothers gave a knowing glance to each other while you sniffled into your jumper. For the first time in months, it wasn’t Matt’s.

“D-do either of you know why…?” The look on your face shattered them, of course they knew why, but like Matt, they couldn’t tell you. “I’m sorry, we have no idea, we can try and talk with him?”

Nick’s voice was promising, a chance to get an explanation, anything. That was enough for now. Chris quickly got up to grab some tissues and chocolate he had stored in the fridge and handed it to you. With gratitude, you smiled up at him. Your voice couldn’t be trusted to be coherent.

Eventually, you fell silent, laying against the cushions of the couch. Sniffles grew quiet and you just stared at nothing. Chris and Nick were alongside you the entire time but they knew you needed space.

“Hey…kid? Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Soft eyes looked up to Nick as he offered you a safe space. “Shouldn’t I get home, what about Matt?”

“He said he was busy tonight, but it is up to you.”

The nails of your fingers protruded the underneath of others as you came to a decision. It was like part of you wanted to leave this place and never come back, but it was all you knew. Your home felt a little too empty, too quiet. “Yes please…”

“Alright, you know where everything is, I’ll see you in the morning.” The triplet just looked at you pitifully, not envying you situations.

Hours flew by and by surprise, you fell asleep. The comfort in familiarity brought you to ease. Until voices woke you up.

“Are you fucking serious, Matt! You love that girl. You didn’t think to talk to either of us about it?” It was Chris, angry. Matt’s name sobered your thoughts, and you sat up quickly. Surely you were still dreaming…

Nick lied peacefully beside you, his glasses shining against the hallway light. It fell silent until Matt spoke up.

“Of course I love her, do you think I fucking stopped? I was prepared to do anything for her, so I did.” He didn’t sound like himself, it was sharper.

“So, you thought that shoving her away and into the dark was the best choice?”

“It was either that or Arlo would do some shit, he knows about her Chris. I let the relationship get into my head and I’ve jeopardised her safety.” It was obvious it was about you, one thing that Matt wasn’t was disloyal.

“You chose your little drug group over her; do you know how pathetic that is.”

That made your chest ache. Drugs? He was always clean; he never gave you a reason to think otherwise. Matt was always so adamant about not letting you near them. Maybe it was because he knew what it did to people first hand.

“That is one of our only incomes, but that’s not the point.” The voices grew louder as you grew closer.

“Then what is! Tell me Matt, because I have spent the past three hours consoling her because of you.” Matt stammered before responding.

“She is! Y/n is the point, if she was kept near me, she’d become a target, you know what they are like. If they find out that she is the reason why I’ve fucked up so many times… I don’t want her hurt.”

You now stood at the entrance of the kitchen, staring at the two brothers. Chris was pissed, and disappointed. Although that was easy to tell by their voices. Matt had a stray tear fall down his cheek. You never saw him sad, not around you at least. Was there a reason?

“Matt?”

Both the boys perked up at your voice. Chris was more stunned than Matt was, he smiled at you before walking out the room, grabbing a stray can of Pepsi as he left. Matt just looked at you, so gently. Why did he have to look at you like that?

“Drugs? What is going on, am I finally going to get any information from you.” You didn’t want to cry, but his own tears made your body choke up.

“Baby… I-“ The nickname didn’t even shock you; you were too attached to throw that away.

“I don’t want lies, Matt”

“I ended things…to keep you safe, protected.” He watched your eyes, how they were expectant for more before he gave in and spoke again. “Yes, drugs. It’s so stupid, I know. But it’s income. I swear on my life I’ve never touched them, I don’t use, baby.” His voice quivered and it broke you, the tears visible on your faces from the light above.

“Protect me? Matt, you hurt me.”

“Y/n, let me explain. I sell drugs, with a few other people. I hadn’t meant to but my had revolved so much around you that I started fucking up my job. It was my last chance to pick between you or my work. I chose my work to keep you safe. They know all about you, they can hurt you, you don’t understand.” He rambled continuously, spewing words at me. Both his hands talked with him, and it was almost hard to keep up.

“You didn’t mean to revolve around me? What am I, some sort of side piece to you?” He hadn’t meant it that way, you both knew it but it was just so hard to understand each other.

“No wait- I didn’t mean it like tha-“

“Don’t Matt. I- I’m not in the mood.” Walking away felt the same as before, as cold at least. You left him again in the dark, alone.

Just as last time.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03 @slutf4rmatt @spaghetti835928383 @flouvela

© ENDEREIES 2024

[awriterinthenight]

"I Have What?"

requested: @narkissistikos

words: 3267

warnings: swearing, suicide references, reader gets attacked, (I know the title is kinda bad, but if you read the story, then it's kinda funny), Miranda is actually a bitch like I hate people like her

summary: You're a mortal who keeps seeing weird monsters, but everyone thinks you're crazy, so when you're at an amusement park and get attacked by a monster, you meet the one and only Luke Castellan

Everyone said you were crazy, that none of it was real. Your parents didn't believe you, they thought you just had a wild imagination, your friends tried to ignore the weird things you told them about, and everyone judged you when they would you talk of monsters. Monsters weren't real was what everyone told you, but you would swear on the gods that they were, and that you could see them.

Eventually you were brought to a doctor, but they also called you crazy, an attention seeker, or that you just had a wild imagination. Everyone thought you just saw these things because you were always cooped up in your room drawing fantasy creatures from old myths. Your doctor recommended going outside, hanging out with friends, and trying to forget all the weird things you believed you say.

So once your parents told your friends, your friends decided what better to do than bring you to an amusement park. How could you not have fun there with the endless rides, greasy food, and the sound of hundreds of screaming kids? So fun (I'm being sarcastic).

You needed this, which was a major lie your friends and family told you. Just like every rich family, they can't have their little screw up who might be crazy, being shown out in public that way. So now here you are, three doctors, a bunch of medication that didn't work, and about 20 cover ups of your "stunts" (as your parents called them), later in your own personal hell, have fun.

"First we should do the Tilt-A-Whirl, then we can go on the bumper cars, then get food, then head to the Ferris Wheel," Stephanie said. With her everything had to be planned out, which wasn't so bad, but sometimes it sucked since then no one could divert from the schedule.

"I think that guy is looking at me. Do you think he's cute? Cause he's cute," Miranda said, looking at something that looked like it crawled onto Earth. Miranda was one of those girls who only talked about guys, and by the time you had a full conversation with her, you'd wish someone would pick her already.

Now you might be thinking, 'why would you be friends with those two if they made you want to jump off the top of the Ferris Wheel'. Well Little Sally, the only reason we hangout with them is because we have to. Stephanie was your mom's best friend's daughter, so if you two weren't friends then apparently your mom's had failed as friends, which made zero sense, but whatever. And Miranda was apparently a package deal (that no one ordered) with Stephanie.

The only decent one in your group was Christina. She didn't talk much, but the glances the two of you sent each other were louder than Miranda's laugh when a guy was around. Christina had been your friend since the beginning of middle school, and for some reason stuck around till now. She was your only real friend in your life, and the only one who cared. She might've thought you were also a bit crazy, but hey, it at least made you funny.

"Let's just get this over with," you said, walking towards the Tilt-A-Whirl.

Miranda groaned, "Don't be such a bummer, we're here to have fun," you and Miranda probably would've murdered each other by now if it wasn't for Christina reminding you that colleges don't accept you if you have a murder charge.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from her as Christina spoke to you, "If you don't upset her too much, then I'll buy you a slushie as compensation."

"Fine, but only if it's blue," you only drank blue slushies, they were like crack to you. You had made it through the Tilt-A-Whirl without hurling the two girls off the ride, and had made it through bumper cars with running them over either, so a wins a win I guess.

You were getting food now, since you were more likely to murder someone on an empty stomach, which was not a good thing when Miranda was around. Christina was busy getting you guys slushies like she promised you, while Miranda was flirting with the cashier when she was supposed to be getting you burgers. You stood in line for cheese fries when something caught your eye.

'Was that a snake!' you questioned yourself, as you swore you saw a snake slither out of the hat the cashier at the popcorn stand was wearing. You tried to slow down your breathing since it sped up from the shock. 'It's just another reason they think you're crazy. Don't let them think you're crazy’ the words everyone told you ringing through your head again.

The guy behind you seemed to notice that you seemed a bit out of it, "Cool shirt," he said, referring to your AC/DC shirt.

It caught you off guard, and you had to look down at what shirt you were wearing, "What- oh, uh thanks," you managed to stumble out, a bit embarrassed since the guy was kind of cute, but you have bigger problems right now.

"Are you okay?" he asked, seeming to be concerned about you in your shocked state. I'll take things that have never happened before for 500 Alex.

You looked up at him, taking in his brown hair and the scar on his face, "I-I'm fine," you told him, trying to think of an excuse since telling a stranger you saw a snake in someone's hair is something only bat-shit crazy people say, "I just witnessed someone sneeze into the popcorn, not something you usually want to see when you're about to eat," you lied, or at least tried to. How the fuck does someone know if their bad at lying or not? Welp, guess it's up the gods if he thinks I'm weird or not, oh look nothing new.

Surprisingly he let out a small chuckle, "I never trust any of the food here, I'm just getting some for my friends," he said.

You nodded, your mind still a bit distant. The strange guy nudged you a bit, "Hey, you're next," he said, since the person in front of you left.

"Oh, thanks, sorry," you said, quickly before walking up to the cashier. That was the last you said to the mystery guy, since he didn't talk to you again after you ordered. You made your way over to your friends, sitting down next to Christina.

"Oh my god," Miranda started, as you started to want to gouge out your eyeballs, "Who was that guy you were talking to? He was so cute, do you think he has a girlfriend?" she asked, then continued to talk about him, asking a million questions that you wouldn't know since you talked to him for not even a minute, and it was a lie you told, so that you didn't look fucking crazy.

"I don't know Miranda. I talked to him for like 30 seconds and it was about some lady who sneezed into the popcorn, by the way, don't get popcorn," you told her, fed up with her million questions.

Stephanie eyed you and said, "You don't need to be so rude, she was just asking," that's it you were jumping off the Ferris Wheel.

Christina could sense the tension, so she intervened, "Did you guys see Evan and Quinn walking around? I didn't even know they were going out," she gossiped, since it was the best diversion to use on the two. You zoned out, preferring to keep you sanity. Which was ironic since when you looked at the lady at the cotton candy stall, you swore she had wings, fangs, and claw-like hands. Okay, maybe you were fucking crazy.

The other weird thing was then when you looked back she looked like a normal person again. Even weirder was that the brown haired stranger looked at her too, then right at you. Something was definitely going on, but you sure as hell don't want to know.

You and your friends were about to head onto the Ferris Wheel, but something inside you told you not to.

"Stop being such a loser," Miranda complained, since she always had to have a problem with you.

"Stop being such a bitch, then maybe I will," you said, walking away. That wasn't your best comeback, but it'll do for now. You stood by yourself against a fence, contemplating why you didn't get on the Ferris Wheel. Was it A) the thought of being high up with Miranda was too tempting to push her off, and you didn't need a felony charge, B) that food was not sitting right, or C) did it have something to do with that the lady from the popcorn stand who now had wings, fangs, and snakes for hair, was about to attack the brown hair boy from earlier. If you picked C) then ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.

Shit.

You ran forward, pulling the boy back by his shirt before she could attack. His friends turned to look at the boy now on the ground, as you felt the greatest humiliation ever. The lady was gone, now making you look like a crazy person who attacked someone for no reason.

"What the hell is wrong with you," he yelled out in anger, dusting himself off as he stood up.

You stumbled back, confused to what had just happened, "I-I," you could barely make out any words, "I swore I...fuck," you said, running into the nearest bathroom to hide in.

You were crazy, you were bat-shit crazy. You were seeing things. Everyone was right. There's something incredibly wrong with you. Why would you do that?

In the midst of trying to call yourself down, you didn't even notice the woman next to you washing her hands, "You're really pretty, it's a shame what I'm about to do to you," she said, making you scared? confused? You didn't know anymore.

"Wha-what," was all you could stumble out, taking a step back.

She let out a breath, "You keep getting in my way, and I can't have that," she shouted at you, before lunging to attack. You had some self defence lessons, plus the skills from random rich people activities like fencing, plus great fight or flight instincts, so before she could rip your throat out, you dodged to the side. She ran into the sink, breaking it which probably hurt like a bitch.

Are you crazy, or are you crazy? Is what you kept asking yourself. The weird lady (more like a creature thing, since she had her wings and fangs back) lunged at you again, but you ran out of the bathroom this time.

You'd made it a good distance away from the bathroom when you accidentally ran into someone, literally. Your face hit their chest, making you stumble back a bit, and you would've fallen if it weren't for someone else catching you.

To your horror it was the boy and his group of friends from earlier. And to make it worse he was the one who caught you, "I got you," he said, "Now where is she?" he asked, his voice sounding rather urgent.

Your brain was still spinning as you tried to process everything, "Wha-what, you can see them?" you asked, entirely confused as to how they knew the things you kept seeing.

"Yes, but that's a conversation for later. Where did you last see her?" the girl of the group asked, and may you add, she seemed a lot scarier than everyone else.

You took a moment to catch your breath, "The bathrooms by the food stalls. It was the one from the popcorn stand, she tried attacking me," you told her, knowing that sentence sounded a bit crazy.

The boy still holding onto you nodded to the rest of the group, which consisted of 2 others, "Stay here," he said, as he started to head off with the others.

You snapped out of your dazed state and caught the boy's hand, "Wait, first tell what those things are," you demanded, finally wanting to know what the things you were seeing actually were.

"Later, just stay here for now," he said, trying to pull his hand away, but failing. Luckily for you (and unluckily for him) you were a pretty strong person.

"No," you said, standing your ground, "I've spent my entire life terrorised by those things, and now I have a chance for answers, so just tell what they are."

The boy seemed to have to bite back a smile, "You're feisty, you know that," he said, only making you more annoyed.

"And you're an asshole, are we going to spend the entire time naming each other's flaws, or are you going to tell me," you retorted.

He let out a sigh before speaking, "Let me go and I'll tell you, promise," he said, you had no other option so you let go, and trusted he would tell you, "Their gorgons, but I'm guessing you've seen other monsters. Do you know both of your parents?"

That was a weird fucking question, but not the weirdest thing to happen to you, "Why would you ask that, what relevance does that have to any of this?" you questioned.

"I-I just-" he said, trailing off when his friends had returned, but this time being attacked by gorgons, "shit." He then left you standing there, as he pulled out a sword from some random object. What the actual fuck is going on.

You watched the three people fight, as the people around you minded their own business, steering clear of the fight. How were they so calm, could they not see what was going on? You were too caught up in your thoughts to notice the dagger coming straight at your face. The boy turned around, a look of horror, then relief washed over him, as the blade went straight through you, falling onto the ground.

At that moment the boy realized you were mortal, and you realized your life is fucked up. Once again snapping out of your daze, you say the girl on the ground with the gorgon about to attack her. Without thinking (let's be honest, when do you ever think) you grabbed the dagger, throwing it at the gorgon. It hit her straight in the neck, causing her to fall to the ground and disappear.

The two boys quickly killed the other gorgon, helping up the girl as they made their way towards you, "You okay?" the brown hair boy asked.

"Oh, you know just another Tuesday," you said, your voice full of sarcasm.

"It's Saturday," the other boy said, not getting your sarcasm.

The girl hit him on the chest, "She's being sarcastic, dumbass. He's not the brightest person."

You nodded, "So, why can I only see the monsters, what are these monsters? Who are you guys? Why could no one see what was going on? Why did that dagger-" you were cut off by the boy with the scars, whose name you still didn't know, which was annoying.

"Woah, calm down," you shot him a glace, since that definitely wasn't the best thing to say in this situation, "You can see the monsters cause you have clear sight," he explained as if that made any sense.

"I have what?" you asked, still confused.

The boy seemed a bit apprehensive about telling you more, due to...issues we won't get into right at this moment, so the girl spoke up, "It means you can see through the mist," which once again did not help.

"That also doesn't explain shit, what even is the mist?" you asked, wanting someone to explain to you what was fully going on.

The other boy spoke up, "Should we tell her everything, or maybe bring her to Chiron?" he asked.

The boy went to speak, but the scary girl spoke first, "We can't just leave her clueless, we have to tell her."

"It could make her life worse though," the brown haired boy said.

They continued to argue until you spoke up, "Are you going to keep talking about me like I'm not here, or are you going to explain?" you asked, frustrated by what was going on.

"Look just let us talk for a moment," he said, before leaning closer to you, "Then we'll tell you everything, I promise," he said, his voice now rather low.

You knew better than to trust the word of a pretty boy, but dam was it hard not to, "Fine, but you better explain everything." The boy nodded, walking over to his friends as they huddled to talk. They weren't that quiet so you could hear almost everything. Something about a camp, and someone named Chiron, and how it would be a lot for you, and blah blah blah.

Their huddle came to an end when the other boy who didn't talk much shouted, "Would your parents care if you were missing for a little bit?"

Normally that would be a weird question, but nothing seemed to bother you anymore, "I don't even think they would notice if I disappeared for a year," you shouted back.

The boy approached you again, his friends standing a little ways away from you two, "We're going to take you somewhere where everything can be explained to you. You don't have to go, but if you want answers it might be your best bet, since it's a lot," he explained.

"I want answers, but why should I travel to some mysterious place, with three strangers whose names I don't even know," you countered, a bit sceptical.

"Fair point," he said, "Then here, I'm Luke Castellan," he held out his hand for you to shake.

The dumb gesture made you smile, something you hadn't done all day, "Y/N L/N," you introduced, still holding onto his hand.

Luke could feel his heart speed up a bit from how you were still holding his hand, and the fact that he made you smile, "Will you come with us now?" he asked hopefully, "I promise you won't regret it."

"That's usually something someone says before they do something regretful, but fine, I'll go," you said, watching his face light up with excitement.

"Great, my friends will get us set up to go, just know the way there may be a bit unconventional," he said, still holding onto your hand.

"I would expect nothing less," you joked, excited about what the future held for you.

You two waited for Luke's friends to come back, and made small talk trying to get to know each other, "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier," he said, referring to when you made him fall down.

"In my defence I was trying to save you from a gorgon," you said, trying to not be embarrassed by your actions.

"My hero," he joked, as his friends arrived with the chariot.

"I don't think anything can surprise me anymore," you uttered, no longer surprised by the weird things you saw.

Luke let out a chuckle, "Oh trust me princess, there's a lot crazier things in this world that will surprise you," he said, the name sliding off his tongue by accident.

You tried to not let the effect the name had on you show, but you rather liked it. You didn't know what the future held for you and Luke, but you were rather excited for it. Unlike Clarisse and Ethan who already wanted to jump out of the chariot.

Current Taglist (ask to be added)

@almost-gabrielle @scarlett-8 @atashiboba @that1deerpersondownstairs @herondale-lightworm

[kawoala]

I love ur work and profile and u seem so amazing, if u are taking request could u pls pls write for an ushijima x ice skater reader?

If not u can ignore

Have a good day/night <33

⁝ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI 𝜗𝜚 glorified hot potato 𝜗𝜚

ᰔ word count ; 645

ᰔ content warning ; veerery minor themes of “i’m so much better than other people” 、 low key love at first sight 、 cousin! oikawa 、 teasing said cousin! oikawa.

when you were a kid, you never pictured your life turning out like this.

going to university on a full-ride scholarship for ice skating? of course. you’d been skating your whole life, so it was no surprise when it had come in the mail. being one of the best skaters on the team? of course.

standing in the bleachers of your university, surrounded by your fellow classmates - who smell, by the way - as they cheer loudly for said university’s infamous volleyball team? absolutely not.

you don’t even like other sports, you’re not really sure how you let your friends convince you to come to a volleyball game of all things. the sport itself is boring, you think. they pass the ball around a couple times and if they drop it too many times, they lose. it’s a glorified hot potato.

even so, there’s this guy on the court that you just… can’t take your eyes off. he’s tall and he’s big and his facial expression says he’d rather be anywhere else - most of the time.

most of the time, his face is lax, void of any emotion except boredom. most of the time, his jaw is clenched, eyes slightly narrowed as the ball moves around the court.

but then he hits the ball. he hits the ball and his brows pinch together in concentration. his mouth stays shut, but his nose scrunches up as he puts all of his strength into hitting the ball.

you decide right then and there that you need to know who this man is. you turn to one of your friends, nudging her shoulder. when she looks over, smile on her face, you grab her shoulders and lightly shake her. “i need to know who number eleven is.” you point down to the court just as he serves the ball over the net, scoring a point. “oh my god, kiyo, look at him. just- please tell me. i- i’m losing my mind, i think.”

she stares at you for a moment, a look of bewilderment in her eyes. she’s used to you scoffing at other sports, you laughing at how hard other people have to try to be good at their sport. but this? this is… different and you know it.

“um,” she starts, eyes drifting to the court as well. “number eleven? that’s ushijima. he’s a… second year, i think? i heard he went to shiratorizawa in high school.”

“ushijima,” you repeat, nodding. “ushijima. ushijima.” your brows slowly furrow. “ushijima- where have i heard that name before?”

kiyo shrugs. “he was like, kind of famous. his school was top of the ranks, i think. don’t take my word for this, though, because i’m not actually sure for certain.”

you’re too busy thinking to even register what she’s said. you’re thinking and thinking and thinking until - oh.

you pull out your phone and, in the middle of the large, smelly, noisy crowd, you call your least favorite cousin. he picks up on the second ring.

“y/n?”

“oikawa!” you exclaim. you plug one of your ears and hunch down, trying to hear better. “hey- who was that kid that wanted you to come to his school and you spent your whole high school career trying to beat him?”

“what?”

“the guy!” you exasperate, rolling your eyes. “the guy who was really good. was his name ushijima?”

“…yeah. what about him? why are you asking about him?”

you pause, snicker, then ask, “how funny would it be if i brought him home for thanksgiving?”

“what?! y/n, absolutely not! i will never speak to you agai-”

you hang up the phone and stand up straight again, eyes focusing on the court once more. your future husband is back on the court, eyes slightly narrowed, jaw clenched - just how you like it.

looks like you’ve got a new assignment this semester.

[sunshine-zenith]

On my daily rewatch of anw I'm thinking about how people thought Hazel and Dev should've swapped fairies because of how unfair the godparent system was and how Dev needed more experienced godparents or how Peri should've been assigned an easy case and while that may be true, I'm just thinking how that swap would have suited the kids' needs.

With Dev, yes, he was a hard case and probably should've had godparent who had more experience with children like him, but he is a child who is lacking in the parental department and needed someone to fill that role.

Same is true for Hazel. She would have been more suited for a first-time godparent, but what she needed and missed the most was her brother and who do we know who has experience with being someone's godbrother? Peri.

I'm probably just rephrasing stuff here so this probably didn't need to be said. Everything more or less worked out for everyone and eventually for others (hopefully).

Anon I have been rotating this ask around in my head since it popped up into my ask box

Confession: I and many others have thought about the similarities between Peri and Hazel, and pointed out that Dev was not a case for a beginner, but I haven’t seriously considered a full out fairy swap until now because I’m actually very fond of the Hazel-Cosmo-Wanda dynamic and the Dev-Peri tragedy dynamic

Still… yeah, you’re kinda right. Dev genuinely would’ve been better suited for experienced godparents, and he might actually benefit from Cosmo and Wanda specifically because A) there’s two of them and B) they’re very parental with their godkids. And Hazel — having Hazel, the kid who misses her brother so much it tipped over the Needs A Fairy edge, be paired up with the godparent who lost his older brother is kinda brilliant

It kinda makes me wonder about how things would be different if we got Hazel-Peri and Dev-Cosmo-Wanda…

Heads up, this gets long

The first thing I wonder about isn’t so much the dynamics, but rather who would be the protagonist? I adore Hazel as a main character, but Cosmo and Wanda are the FOP difacto mascots. They’re the ones who get the cameos and appear in the reboots/sequels. They can exist independently from Timmy/Hazel/Chloe/Viv. If they’re Dev’s fairies, then Dev would be the main POV character. And like. I love Dev, I do, but he’s an asshole. I understand why and I’m down to justify anything he does, but he’s a dick. Plus, well, he’s also super sad. It’d be very hard to make him a fun POV character, especially pre/mid-character development, at least without switching the genre from Heart Felt Comedy Aimed At Children/All Ages to something much darker and more mature. He’s a great side character/deuteragonist, but it would be a Commitment if we followed him 95% of the time

(And before anyone comes at me about Timmy also being The Worst, a lot of that was flanderization. By the time he gets that that point, let’s be real a lot of people stopped watching, and even then he at least had half a dozen I Love Yous and sweet moments with Cosmo and Wanda to make the commitment worth it to the audience.)

Hazel and Peri

So if we keep Hazel as the lead and Peri as her fairy, how’d that work, writing wise? Do we keep his introduction the same and hope the audience is fine with a Sequel Babies Series. Or (and this is just me having fun), do we hypothetically cut out the part where he Introduces Himself With His Deadname For The Audience’s Sake and just hint at him as being Poof from the original series. Then, after Founder’s Day, we introduce Cosmo and Wanda as Dev’s fairies, and the Peri Is Grown Up Poof thing is treated as a Big Reveal, a la Author Of The Journals from Gravity Falls

Now that out of the way, how do I think these dynamics would work, and how would it affect Dev and Hazel’s relationship?

Like you said, Hazel and Peri connecting over missing brothers is a great starting point, and Peri getting to be the big brother for once would be so much fun to watch. Plus, and I’ve pointed this out before, they’re both rule followers (I can totally see a gag of them bonding over Hazel’s DMV love), though Hazel is willing to play things by ear, while Peri gets majorly stressed/anxious/high strung when rule breaking is in question — in fact, that could be a fun angle to some potential conflicts. Hazel makes a wish, but she doesn’t know how to find the words for what she wants, and since Peri is so new, he doesn’t have the experience to confidently guess. He hesitates, both of them get caught in a mini Anxiety Loop, and escalating event happening in the background force them into action, and through hijinx, they both receive character development

I can also see the Antony thing leading to conflict for them — Hazel’s brother is gone, but he comes back. He visits. They reconnect. Meanwhile, Timmy’s gone gone. His memory is wiped. I can see Peri occasionally accidentally fumbling Hazel’s missing Antony with his own likely grief over Timmy. Maybe after another missed flight or phone call, Peri tries to be “supportive” in the same way he tried to cheer Dev up at his birthday, and he accidentally says something that makes Hazel not only miss her old life, but thing she’ll never have any sort of relationship with Antony again.

Or maybe Peri does handle it well until Antony comes back. Then, alongside Hazel trying to recreate the past, Peri gets overwhelmed with jealousy, like he was when Irep tried taking his place with Dev but dialed up by 10. He worries he’ll lose his first godkid AND be fumbling with reawakened grief

(Plus hey, I can actually see this scenario as a good way to justify bringing Timmy back. Maybe Hazel could even include Timmy’s memories as part of her Rule Free Wish in the finally)

Basically Hazel and Peri have so much in common that if they were the main duo, those similarities could lead to so many bonding moments AND dramatic moments where through being mirrors for each other they accidentally hurt each other and help each other to grow as people

(It makes me wonder how Peri would hide himself in Hazel’s day to day life. Peri becomes inanimate objects for Dev, sure, but he doesn’t have a consistent object he hides as. Maybe Peri could have a human disguise, pretending to be a recent college grad who moves into Hazel’s building? Or maybe he could be a “new pet rock”?)

(Also I have a lot of thoughts on C&W being disguised as pets for Timmy and neighbors for Hazel, but that’s a ramble for another day.)

Dev, Cosmo, and Wanda

So the first question is how would Dev become Cosmo and Wanda’s godkid? They weren’t actually assigned to Hazel, they basically just adopted her. Maybe, Cosmo and Wanda could still be traveling and just end up in Dimmadelphia around Founder’s Day, and through their observations, they seen Dev is going through it and come out of retirement for him. This could also lead to a Cookie situation with Dev instead of Hazel (imagine Dev pretending to be a lawyer, there would 100% be a gag of him acting as every shady lawyer stereotype you know.)

I can see Dev still lashing out at them, probably still demanding perfection for hollow wishes since he can’t get what he really wants, BUT C&W would cause mischief as they misinterpret his wishes. I can also see him acting unimpressed/impatient when they take him on little side quests to meet with fairies that specialize in the things he wishes for. He’s have to defrost to them, and they (likely especially Cosmo) would push his buttons. Dev would also probably deny having fun during these adventures. I’m sure he’d eventually come to see them the same way he saw Irep)

A potential conflict could come from the fact that a lot of Dev’s wishes are by nature spiteful/fueled by pride. Again, major Dev apologist here, we’re talking about the kid who wished for a an evil ghost to come from the depths of hell after having a fairy for less than a week. C&W would still grant his wishes, but they wouldn’t approve of him being a bully, and would probably try really hard to get him to realize the error of his ways through these wishes

It’s likely that Dev wouldn’t even get involved with the anti-fairies here. If he did, I can only see this after Dev specifically makes a wish relating to his father loving him, which C&W can’t grant, or something similar — a breakdown after a big, direct moment instead of a breakdown after months of little, indirect moments

I can also see him both clinging to them as parental figures and resenting them as misplaced anger and sadness over his neglectful dad

I can also see him seeing Peri (and maybe even Timmy) as a threat here — Peri is their son, who they adore like Dev wishes Dale adored him. And since Peri isn’t Dev’s godparent here and therefore doesn’t feel the need to look out for/do right by him, Peri would like sass him harder or treat him as an annoyance, an extension of any tension that comes up when C&W their clingy thing. In a scenario where Dev still ended up under an anti-fairy’s influence, he might even wish Peri was Nothing, or still kidnap Peri here out of misplaced resentment

Dev and Hazel

I feel like swapping fairies would also affect their relationship. Part of their comes from Dev’s jealousy over Hazel’s relationship with C&W — she has two while he only has one, she has a positive relationship with her while his “can’t do anything right” (can’t cross the red tape of Da Rules, doesn’t have the experience/comfort level to go buckwild with wishes/has parents that love him/etc). Here, that wouldn’t be a problem— Hazel wouldn’t care that Dev has two fairies instead of one, and C&W would probably have an easier time getting through Dev’s defenses. It’s possible that a lot of their fights and negative interactions just wouldn’t happen here, and if they did, it would be related to Hazel wanting Dev to be nicer to C&W/Peri.

[confiaenanaa]

Hi!! Could you do one in which Em meets reader's parents and he's nervous they won't like him and keep asking reader how to dress, what to say or do??

nervous - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Marshall's nervous about meeting Y/N's parents.

A/N: had a lot of fun writing this one! I know my chapters are short and stuff, but I hope that soon I'll be able to get one out that's super duper long for you guys!

Marshall had never imagined he’d be sitting on his bedroom floor, surrounded by piles of his best clothes and shoes, all for a girl. Well, not a girl; the girl. Y/N was his diamond, his crown jewel. He adored her in every way possible, which is why he was stressing so hard over meeting her parents. This was a very big deal to him; if her parents didn’t like him, what would come of the relationship? 

-Fuck it. 

That’s what he kept muttering to himself as he dialed Y/N’s number in his phone. It rang once, twice, three times, and finally…

-Hello?

-Hey baby.

-Oh, hey, Marsh! What’s up?

-So, I was picking out what I was gonna wear tonight when I realized that I have nothing!

-You’re so dramatic, you have a huge closet! You’ll find something in there.

She was right. He had a plethora of clothes in various styles. There had to be at least one decent outfit somewhere among the mass of fabric tainting the cleanliness of his bedroom. Sadly, he still thought none of it was good enough.

-I actually don’t. Nothing here is nice enough to wear to meet your parents.

-Marshall, my parents aren’t some strict, stick-up-the-ass, crazy people. They don’t really care about what you’re wearing as long as you don’t look homeless.

-Have you seen what I wear? I do look homeless!

-No… you look like a classy homeless man. There’s a difference.

-Baby, I’m serious. I’m real stressed here.

Y/N sighed at his apprehension. He truly was ridiculous at times. 

-What do you want me to do about it?

-Well, can you come over?

-Fine. Be there in 10.

Y/N hopped in her car after throwing on some clothes and took off. She herself needed to get ready, but that need not be mentioned. She’d figure it out. Once she pulled into his driveway, she saw him standing at the door, visibly anxious. Y/N stepped out of the car and greeted Marshall.

-Hey, baby.

-Hey. Help me please.

He sort of jogged up the stairs and led her to his bedroom. Y/N audibly gasped at the mess he’d made. Clothes strewn all over the floor, shoes on the table, perfumes thrown on his bed, the man was a wreck. 

-Good god.

-I know. I have a bit of a mess. But, ignore that. Can you help me pick everything?

-Yeah. Yeah, okay.

Marshall went through the mess finding outfit after outfit. Y/N said all of them were fine, but he wanted his outfit to be great. At this point, Y/N was saying they were great just to get him off her ass. She was running out of time to get ready. 

-Baby don’t lie to me! Tell me if the clothes are actually good, please.

Y/N groaned and stood up from her spot on the bed. She went over to the pile farthest from them and grabbed a nice shirt. Then, she went over to a pile of jeans on the other end of the floor and picked up a pair of jeans that were nice and hadn’t touched the floor yet. Next, she found the shoe pile and grabbed a matching pair of nice jordans and a nice smelling perfume in the pile next to them. She put it all together in front of Marshall and his jaw dropped slightly. 

-Wha… how did you…?

-Magic. Y/N shrugged. She finally went over to the closet and grabbed the nicest clothes she could find from the small and, quite frankly, lacking collection of clothes she kept at Marshall’s house.

-Wow, baby. You look… great.

Marshall looked like a man reborn; a phoenix reborn from the ashes. He was a new man. He looked classy and spiffed up. He wore nice jewelry and a nice watch, but not so nice as to draw attention or to gloat upon his success. 

-Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.

Y/N smiled as Marshall grabbed her hand and guided her to his car. She knew that her parents would love him no matter what, but she still liked teasing him and making him work for it. 

-Well, are we going?

[pamwritessometimes]

Tuesday's Gone — Chapter 7

Russell Shaw x reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of murdering someone (as a joke, kind of), so much Scooby-Doo and dog talk, GIRL DAD RUSSELL!! (he's a warning because – well, you'll see)

Y/N: This chapter... this chapter is literally my favorite from this series. Enjoy!🤍

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Catch up on Chapter 6 here

Tuesday’s Gone masterlist

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“What the actual hell are you doing here?” she snapped, her words laced with enough venom to make anyone think twice about speaking.

Russell, clearly anticipating her fury, quickly raised his hands in surrender. “I know this sounds insane, and I know you probably hate my guts – fair enough, you’ve got every reason to – but Y/N sent me to grab some stuff for her and Emma.”

Your sister’s brows furrowed in confusion for many things. “Where the hell are they? What did you do–”

“They’re at the hospital in Springland” Russell cut in, holding up a hand. “They’re fine, okay? Just– let me pack some things for them. You can come with me, I’ll explain everything on the way” he said.

Her hands started to tremble, and she had to grip the doorframe to steady herself. “So, they’re okay? Emma’s okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. They’re good” Russell said, though his gaze was unreadable. “Please, let me–”

A flood of emotions hit Anna all at once. Relief, yes, but also an undercurrent of fear she couldn’t shake. Emma was okay. That’s all that mattered. Still, she didn’t understand why they would be in Springland. And…why hadn’t Y/N called her? And why the hell was he here picking up their stuff?

Anna stared at him, trying to read him. The whole situation was a mess. Y/N and Russell hadn’t exactly parted on the best terms, and now here he was, showing up at her door, looking exhausted and out of place. Why him?

Still, Anna couldn’t help the relief flooding through her. Y/N and Emma were safe. They had to be. But she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was still off.

“Alright” she sighed and reluctantly let him in. She helped him pack some sweaters, a new pair of jeans, clean underwear and everything you’d need during a hospital stay. She also tossed clothes to Emma, her favorite plushie – a Scooby-Doo toy your parents gave her. 

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Exhausted didn’t even begin to cover it. The last few days had chewed you up, spat you out, and trampled over what was left. You weren’t just tired. You were hollowed out, running on fumes and sheer willpower. You had a feeling like you’d need a month's rest, minimum. 

But at least Emma was safe. She was sleeping peacefully now, tucked into the hospital bed beside you. Physically, she was unharmed, Rourke and his men hadn’t laid a finger on her. Yet, you knew that wasn’t the whole story. Mentally, the trauma of it all would leave scars neither of you could see just yet. Your brave, sweet girl had been kidnapped. Stolen away. And the thought of what could have happened – no. Your mind can’t even go there.

Now here you were, sitting vigil beside her hospital bed. You’d been given your own bed in the room – thank heaven for small favors – but you couldn’t bring yourself to use it. Instead, you stayed planted by Emma’s side, staring at her tiny face as she slept. Her brows were furrowed even in rest, her lips pressed into a worried pout. Seeing her like that made your guilt weigh heavier.

You should have been her protector, her guardian angel, the one who kept the bad things away. And yet here you were, staring at the evidence of your failure. No four-year-old – or any child, for that matter – should have to go through this.

Your mind wouldn't quit, racing through the last few days like a bad movie on loop. First, the panic when you realized Emma was gone, the gut-wrenching moment it hit you, like a punch to the stomach. Then there was Rourke, that smug, twisted, mustache-framed smile of his, and the mess you’d thrown yourself into just to get her back. The helplessness you felt when you finally decided to call Colter. And, of course, there was Russell blowing back into your life like a hurricane, as if you hadn’t just spent years avoiding him.

They’d saved her. Saved both of you, really. And for all the hurt and confusion between you and Russell, you couldn’t deny that he had stepped up when it mattered most.

A soft knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. 

The door creaked open, and Anna’s familiar auburn hair peeked in first. Her eyes softened when they landed on you and Emma. She slipped inside, moving quietly not to wake Emma, and behind her came Russell, lugging two heavy sports bags.

Anna came straight to you, her arms wrapping around you tightly as soon as she reached your side. You returned the hug, letting her warmth chase away a fraction of the chill that had washed over your skin.

“God, I was so worried. So, so, so worried.” she whispered with a voice heavily trembling.

“I know, I– I’m so sorry” you murmured. “I was too. Did Russell tell you?”

She pulled back just enough to look at you. “Yeah, he briefed me” she said as her hands were still gripping your arms. “Don’t worry, I put him in his place” she said and Russell rolled his eyes at that. She really did, the whole car ride had been a rather tense experience.

You nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Thank you for coming. You didn’t have t–”

“Stop” Anna cut you off, smoothing a hand over your hair like she used to when you were kids. “Of course, I did.”

Her eyes slid to Russell, and her mouth tightened into a thin line. She knew you two had so many things to talk about, but – for obvious reasons – she didn’t want to leave you with him. On the ride here, Russell tried to explain everything. And by everything, he meant everything. His line of work, the reason you were brought to your sister’s house that night four and a half years ago, and the real reason Emma was taken. To say Anna hadn’t taken it well was an understatement. But even in her anger, she couldn’t miss the regret in his voice, or the way he spoke about Emma – like she was the most precious thing in his world, even though he barely knew her. That, more than anything, made her hesitate.

Anna’s gaze darted to Russell, who was mindlessly unpacking one of the bags she’d hurriedly thrown together, then back to you.

With a reluctant sigh, she said, “I’ll leave you two to talk.” Her voice carried the weight of a thousand unspoken warnings, all of them aiming directly at Russell. “I brought the essentials,” she added, nodding toward the duffels by the door. “I’ll be outside. Need to call Mom and Dad anyway.”

“Thanks, Anna”

She gave you a small, tight smile and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to Emma’s forehead. Without another word, she stepped out of the room.

The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with Russell. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy, not this time.

Russell cleared his throat, abandoning the duffels mid-unpack, and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Thank you” you said quietly, your voice softer than you’d expected.

“For what?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t have a specific answer, really. There was too much to thank him for.

Bringing you here to make sure you and Emma were safe, for one.

At the diner, he’d distracted Emma with soothing words and a little game – like connecting with her was the most natural thing in the world. That moment had surprised you, even warmed you.

And then, of course, there was the big thing. The thing that mattered most. He and his brother had risked their lives to save Emma. Your child. Your entire world.

Sure, he was partly the reason Emma had been in danger to begin with. But after everything, could you really hold that against him? Not more than you blamed yourself, anyway. He hadn’t even known about her, let alone that she could be used as a pawn to hurt him. That part? That was on you. You’d made the decision to keep quiet about your pregnancy, letting your own hurt and anger drown out better judgment.

Really, both of you had made mistakes. He hadn’t told you what his real job was. You hadn’t told him he was going to be a father. And now, here you were – two people who had made a mess, trying to pick up the pieces.

“How is she?” Russell asked, his gaze landing on Emma. His voice was steady, but you could hear the waves of guilt underneath like a howling ocean.

“She’s... okay” you said, letting out a breath that felt like it had been trapped in your chest for days. “Physically, at least. The rest? That’s going to take time.”

He nodded but his jaw worked like he was trying to grind his regret into dust. “She’ll get through this…She’s strong. Like her mom.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the unexpected warmth in his words. For a second, the fortress you’d built around yourself wavered.

Hell, who were you kidding? That thing had crumbled the second Emma was back in your arms.

“I don’t know about that” you admitted.

“I do” he said, stepping a little closer, careful. “I saw it. These last few days... you didn’t stop. You didn’t back down. Not even when I showed up and probably made everything ten times harder.”

Your chest tightened, and you glanced down at your hands. They were still trembling, like your body hadn’t gotten the memo that the worst was over.

“I was terrified, Russell. Every second, I thought I’d lost her. I thought I’d never see her again.”

“But you didn’t” he said, sitting beside you like he belonged there. After a beat of silence, he added, “Because you fought for her. And when it came down to it, we fought for her together.”

That last word hit you like a gentle nudge to the heart. Together. You lifted your eyes to meet his, and for the first time in longer than you cared to admit, you saw something there you hadn’t let yourself see before. Honesty. Regret. And maybe... hope?

“I don’t even know how to thank you” you said, your voice soft. “You and your brother. I don’t even know where to start. I can’t—”

“Don’t” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t need to thank me. I just... I had to. For her. For you.”

Your throat tightened, and you had to blink a few times to keep the tears at bay. “You saved her, Russell. That means everything to me.”

He leaned forward, his hand hovering near yours, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to close the gap. “I’d do it again. A thousand times over.”

The silence between you stretched, but for once, it wasn’t awkward. It was thick with all the things neither of you were ready to say but couldn’t deny anymore.

Finally, you reached out and your fingers brushed his calloused hands. “Stay” you whispered. “We’ve got a lot to figure out, but... I’d like you to stay. At least until she wakes up.”

The corners of his lips tugged up slightly, almost like he wanted to smile but thought better of it.

“I can do that.”

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

You can’t remember when or how you drifted off, and you certainly can’t remember how you got into the bed beside Emma’s. For a moment, you were completely disoriented, like a GPS that lost signal. Your ears perked up at the sound of the TV, the familiar voice of Don Messick’s echoing through the room like an old friend. Was that Scooby-Doo you were hearing? Had you and Emma watched so much of it that now your brain was hallucinating talking dogs in your sleep?

You slowly peaked one eye open, then the other, dopiness sweeping through your system. You had to blink a couple before the blurry sight became clear in front of you.

There was Emma, sitting up on her bed, her eyes glued to the hospital TV in the corner, watching a rerun of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? She was making soft, nonsensical sounds that barely registered to you in your half-awake state. 

And next to her, there was Russell, lying on his side with his head propped up on one arm, also mumbling. Emma’s head was nestled against his torso, her small body curled up in a cozy little ball next to his as she clutched the Scooby plushie Anna must have packed for her. They were both completely absorbed in the episode, their voices blending together in what could only be described as an animated commentary on the show.

You tried to make sense of what they were saying, but their words were a jumble to you – intelligible to them, maybe, but not to your sleep-fogged brain.

It didn’t take long for you to recognize the episode they were watching: Decoy for a Dognapper.

Of course. Emma was a Scooby fan. You and her know all the episodes by heart at this point, so much that Scooby-Doo was practically a second language in your house. And it seemed like Russell had caught on too, or at least, he’d been swept into the Scooby-verse by default. The two of them were so wrapped up in their conversation, they didn’t even notice you were awake.

“No way! She won’t? Why not? A dog is awesome” Russell said, his voice carrying the first full sentence your foggy mind could grasp.

“She says I’m too young” Emma replied, snuggling closer to his side as though the injustice of it all was just simply too much to bear.

“Too young? That’s ridiculous. What does that even mean?” Russell shot back, his tone scandalized for comedic effect. “Dogs don’t care how old you are. They care if you’ve got snacks and ear scratchin’ in store for ‘em.”

Emma giggled. “Mom doesn’t wanna pick up poop.”

Russell tilted his head thoughtfully. “Well, if I remember correctly, your mom was seriously considering getting a dog a few years ago.”

At that, you sat up with a groan. “Really, Russell?” 

It was true, he and you both knew it. About five or so years ago, you’d gone on and on about adopting a dog – all the goddamn time. Russell had endured countless rants about breeds, shelters, and the pros and cons of pet ownership. Now, the smirk on his face told you he was thoroughly enjoying throwing it back in your face. Payback’s a bitch, huh?

Both of them turned to look at you. Emma with her wide-eyed, angelic innocence, and Russell with a grin that was downright infuriating in its smugness.

“Morning” he greeted with a widening grin. “We were just discussing the tragic lack of a dog in Emma’s life. Care to defend yourself?”

“Yeah, Mom!” Emma chimed in with an emboldened voice by her new ally. “Why can’t I have one?”

You rubbed your temples, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Because you’re too young, and I know exactly how that would end. I’d be the one walking it, feeding it, and cleaning up after it, dealing with everything.”

Russell raised a brow, looking way too amused. “Funny, you didn’t seem to mind the idea a couple of years ago.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Don’t make her think she has backup in this, Russ.”

“Too late” he said, leaning back with a grin. “Team Dog is officially in full force, yeah?”

Emma threw her hands in the air triumphantly, flashing you the biggest grin. “Team Dog!”

You groaned, but the warmth bubbling in your chest betrayed you. It wasn’t just the banter – it was seeing them like this, bonding over something silly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Emma looked like a carefree kid again. 

You narrowed your eyes at Russell, fully expecting another smug remark when he suddenly looked... hesitant. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight on the bed like a man about to drop a bombshell.

“What?” you asked, immediately suspicious.

“Well” he started, scratching the back of his neck, “don’t freak out, but... your parents are here. They got here a couple hours ago while you were out. Anna called them, I guess. She must’ve worked her magic because, well... let’s just say I was fully prepared to be murdered the second they walked in.”

Your hand flew to your forehead as you groaned, visions of your parents tearing into Russell flashing through your mind.

You didn’t tell them about him being here yet… and you guess it was already too late.

Your dad would be loud about it, your mom quieter but somehow more terrifying. You could only imagine the list of grievances they had ready for him. You just hoped they didn’t cause a scene in front of the whole hospital – and most importantly, in front of Emma.

“Wait” you narrowed your eyes. “They’re not trying to kill you? What did Anna even say to make that happen?”

“I think she went with the ‘he saved Emma’ card. Pretty sure your mom’s exact words were, ‘Well, I suppose I won’t bury him under the hydrangeas... yet.’”

You couldn’t help it, you snorted. It was just so her. “Sounds about right. And dad?”

Russell winced theatrically. “Your dad... definitely gave me the look. You know, the one that says, ‘I’m debating whether you’re worth the jail time.’ But he hasn’t thrown any punches yet, so I’ll count that as a win.”

Emma tilted her head, a frown pulling at her lips. “Why does Grandma and Grandpa wanna hurt Russell? He’s so nice!”

The room went so quiet you could hear the faint hum of the hospital machinery. Russell froze, looking at you for backup, but you were too busy giving him a look – the universal signal for you started this, buddy, now deal with it.

“Well, sweetheart” he said slowly, scratching his head. “They don’t actually want to hurt me. It’s just... a joke. You know, like when people say they’re gonna kill someone, but they don’t really mean it?”

Emma gave him a serious look, like she wasn’t entirely convinced. “But why? What did you do?”

You sighed, realizing there was no easy way out of this. “Sweetie” you began gently, “it’s kind of a long story. But Grandma and Grandpa are just... protective. They’re not mad at Russell anymore. Or at least, not much.”

Emma’s curious gaze ping-ponged between the two of you. “Why?”

“Okay” you said, sitting on the edge of Emma’s bed and taking a deep breath. “The thing is... Russell didn’t do anything bad. Not really. It’s just... well, a long time ago, before you were born, Russell and I used to–”

“Date…” Russell interjected, apparently deciding to rip the band-aid off.

Emma’s eyes widened. “Date? Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yes” you admitted, your cheeks warming. “Like boyfriend and girlfriend.”

She stared at the two of you, her little brows furrowing as she processed this new information. Then her face lit up with excitement. “Were you married?”

“Whoa, whoa, pump the brakes” you said, holding up your hands. “No, we were not married. We just... used to be together.”

Emma tilted her head again, her expression now puzzled. “Then why are Grandma and Grandpa angry at Russell?”

Russell chuckled nervously. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, kiddo. They’re just... protective of your mom.”

“Very protective” you muttered. You took a deep breath, preparing for the big reveal. “Sweetheart, here’s the thing. After Russell and I stopped being boyfriend and girlfriend… I found out that you were already growing in my belly.”

Emma’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her mouth forming a perfect O at your carefully selected words. “You mean… like when babies are in tummies?”

You were trying to keep your tone light as you nodded. “Exactly like that.”

Emma tilted her head, her little brow furrowed as she worked it out in her mind. “So… that means… Russell’s my daddy?”

Russell smiled, his heart visibly melting. “Yeah.”

Emma blinked at him, then at you, then back at him, as though she was piecing together the most important puzzle of her life. After a moment of silence, her face broke into a huge grin. “YAY! I have a daddy!”

Emma scooted closer to Russell, wrapping her arms around his neck in an enthusiastic hug. “You’re my daddy now! That means you have to stay forever!”

Russell’s eyes glistened, and he hugged her back tightly. “I’ll be here as much as I can, I promise.”

Emma pulled back slightly, her face lighting up with another burst of excitement. She turned her wide, sparkling eyes up at Russell. “Can we get a dog now, Daddy?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh, for the love of – Emma!”

“What?” she said innocently, looking between you and Russell. “You said no before ‘cause it was just you! But now Daddy can help with the poop!”

Russell burst out laughing, clearly enjoying this too much. “She’s got a point, you know.”

You shot him a look that could have frozen water. “Don’t encourage her.”

“Team Dog!” Emma giggled and Russell ruffled her hair affectionately, somehow steering her to sit back down and continue their Scooby-Doo marathon.

Despite yourself, you took a deep breath, still trying to get your head around the unexpected turn of events.

This was... a lot.

But for some reason, it didn’t feel as overwhelming as it should. Sure, it had been a complete curveball to drop the whole Russell-is-your-dad bombshell, but Emma’s bright smile, the way she’d lit up at the news, somehow made it all feel like it could work.

As Emma giggled, you let out a sigh of relief. This wasn’t how you thought this conversation would go, but somehow, it was already starting to feel a little more like a family.

A very unusual family.

But a family nonetheless.

━���━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

Next on Tuesday's Gone (Sneak Peek from Chapter 8):

Still, Russell had clearly decided that proximity was his job. He was there nearly every day, and on more than a few nights, too. 

“Just in case” he’d say. You didn’t know, but he loved staying there when the both of you were sound asleep. During those times, he felt an indescribable peace. 

And then there was his latest obsession: fixing everything. It started innocently enough – he noticed a cabinet door hanging loose and gave it a quick tune-up. Then he spotted the wobbly bathroom doorknob. Before long, the guy was like a one-man Home Depot commercial, patching up squeaks and quirks you hadn’t even realized were annoying you.

And at first, you didn’t even notice. But one day, you walked into the kitchen, and something felt... off. Not bad-off, just different. Quieter. 

The cupboards didn’t bang shut anymore, the sticky drawer slid like butter, and that creaky floorboard by the living room? Silent. It was like Russell had decided that if he couldn’t fix all your problems, he’d settle for conquering your house.

And the worst part? It was kind of working.

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

I might have giggled all the way while writing it, or maybe I didn’t. But hey, Emma has a dad!

Chapter 8 coming soon...

🤍Taglist🤍

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @winchesterwild78 @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @zepskies @kr804573 @sebastianstangirl01 @kmc1989 @drakelover78 @amberlthomas @lomlbuckybarnes @n-o-p-e-never

[iamdeltas]

#agatha is just so interesting to me because she really can justify anything to herself but you still see in small moments like this how it#hurts her to do so but she does and then she just moves on because she /has/ to because she can't dwell on it#she'd be drown from the onslaught of all she's done if she allowed herself to falter on just one thing#she has to be decisive. she has to be callous. because she can't afford to stop or look back#i also don't think agatha truly wanted to bring jen into this either#i know some ppl are thinking she purposefully bound but i truly believe she didn't know or realize who was going to be effected by it#or even after who /had/ been effected by it. i think agatha wasn't actually lying when she said that she chose to leave jen alone#I do think it didn’t give her as much of a pause as sharon and alice did because the reasons she left jen alone hasn’t been for a century#I honestly think the easiest person for her to drag into this was Lilia and then Lilia also ends up being the first she shows kindness too#and honestly that scene was so good because I think she would have shown kindness to her either way because Agatha knows death#she knows grief and how the pain lingers and burrows into your very bones#so I think no matter what she probably would’ve had the same reaction#but I also just wonder if Lilia’s comment of ‘try to save Agatha’ effected her as well#because I think Agatha gets what Lilia’s deal is or at least has an idea. and while she did pause for a second. she played it off quickly#but I wonder if that did really hit her#because Agatha is a witch killer. she has this power that she can’t totally fully control that takes and takes and she’s never once been#thought in her life to be good or kind or anything like that (except by Nicky or Rio) and it’s clear when she was with Nicky they needed to#take from the witches to hide from death to allow Nicky to live and Agatha cannot take without killing#if the witches knew what she was/how her power worked/how Nicky survived they would be killed just like her mother’s coven tried to do#no one would be willing to risk teaching her to risk sheltering them if they knew#she knows that firsthand and anyone who knows anything about Agatha Harkness would rather see her dead#and then Lilia comes in. Lilia who read her immediately. who /knows/ who she is. she says to try to save /agatha/#I don’t think Agatha would allow herself to fully believe it (which is smart because that’s not actually what she was saying)#but god. I bet that stuck with her (via @roots-symphony)

I was going through the scene where the other witches arrived in Agatha's home. And I noticed something when Alice arrived:

Agatha actually didn't look happy.

Agatha didn't think Alice would arrive—she knew what she planned to do—and she didn't think they would open the Road. Agatha was more than okay that Alice wouldn't join but Alice still arrived.

And then when she was going to recruit Sharon, Agatha paused and closed her eyes.

I thought Agatha was just gathering strength because she was not as social as she presented. But now I realize Agatha was also trying to make peace with what she was about to do.

Agatha doesn't have regrets, but that doesn't mean they don't get to her sometimes. Also, she's had three years off from killing, and even though she doesn't remember that time fully, it was still a break from her usual.

This is why she was blasé about Sharon Davis's death, she knew one way or another she was dragging poor Sharon to her doom. This was the split second beat where Agatha makes peace with the idea that she could live with this choice.

[arpicityandneed]

Imagine being Loki and Thor's sister, very sheltered and destined to one day be sent away from Asgard for a political marriage of some sort. They've both always been a little miffed about this arrangement, but they cope by taking all of your 'firsts' before you go.

18+ Dark Content. big brother!Loki, big brother!Thor. tw incest, creampie, dirty talk, spit roast. Cuckolding.

You grew up to be the most delicate flower the kingdom had ever seen, beautiful, kind, sheltered, and protected by the royal guard and your brothers until you were dependent upon them for everything.

They didn't mind.

Thor would stop mid feast if you needed him to read you a bedtime story, and Loki used every ounce of magic he had to make illusions that made you giggle and laugh.

But the threat of your marriage hung over all over heads like a death sentence. Especially once they learned you'd be leaving Asgard for good once you were married.

"Father, you must reconsider. How is she to exist outside these walls without us, married to a brute?" Thor argued to the AllFather while you slept soundly a few nights before you were to be sent off. Your new husband had made no effort to hide that he only saw you as a way to have heirs from a powerful bloodline.

"Their family has old blood Thor, old enough even our family recognizes it. It is a good allyship and that's final." Odin stared down his son ominously, and Thor felt his blood boil.

"If I may, Father, at least allow us to escort her to her new home. Give her some comfort at least." Loki spoke quickly, knowing if he didn't there would be another eye lost and not from his father's face.

Odin considered, for a moment before nodding tightly.

"But this is the last I am to here of this matter."

~

"I don't want to go. I want to stay with you. I wish I were marrying you and Loki instead." You wailed, fully sobbing as your brothers held you close after telling you what your father had said.

"Don't cry, little one. Please don't cry," Thor begged as he rocked you.

"It'll be alright sister, I have my magic. No one will keep us from you no matter how far apart." Loki tried to convince you but it just made you cry harder, clinging to his hand as Thor cradled you against his broad chest.

"No, b-because he'll own me. I'll be h-his and he'll get to make me b-bear his children..." Thor's jaw clenched and he looked to Loki quietly. It was easy enough for Loki to guess his brother's thoughts after hundreds of years, but for once Loki was in complete agreement.

"What if we put a child in your belly first?" Loki murmured as he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. For the first time since they'd told your about Odin's words your crying died down a little.

"Really? You'd do that for me?" You looked between the two of them with wide hopeful eyes, squeezing Loki's hand tight.

"Of course we would. Your ours, always have been and always will be." Thor's deep voice was gentle but completely serious. You wiped your tears, sitting up a bit taller.

"I'd much rather have your babies than his. I love you both, so very much." It was simply the truth, one the three of you all knew.

"Then let us show you how much we love you, sister."

~

The hours had blurred. What had started with gentle kisses and soft touched had long since devolved in hazy, animalistic sex.

"Another." Thor's massive hand slapped down on the fat of your ass, his cock pounding into your gushing insides relentlessly. Loki was groaning as you practiced deep throating him for the second time that night.

"Good technique. I think dear sister, fuck that's good, we've made you into a whore." Loki sounded pleased, Thor only growled in warning. They'd had this argument several times as the night wore on.

"Am I too lewd brother?" You'd asked when you'd demanded they teach you how to make them cum with your mouth so they could use you at the same time.

"Not at all, I quite like knowing you have some whorishness in you. Just needed to be nurtured." Loki purred as he kissed you, deeper than before. You heard a loud CRACK! and looked up to find Thor breaking the arm of the chair he'd been resting in.

"If that man touches you like we have I'm killing him. Allyship, war, all of it be damned. If he touches you I'm burning his kingdom to the ground." It wasn't a bellow like his normal good natured threats, this was quiet and deadly serious.

"Yes, yes. Only for us. Or Thor will kill your future husband." Loki laughed as he tugged on your hair forcing you down the last few inches until your nose was buried in his pubes. When you merely blinked up at him all pretty and wet eyed he barely got out a warning before he was coming down your throat.

You gasped for air when your brother released you. You'd lost count of how many loads you'd taken from them both, but each one made you feel greedier. You wanted to drown from the inside until you were marked irrevocably and their claim on you was undeniable.

"Breathe love, Thor give her space-" Loki combed your hair away from your face, trying to look in your eyes and check that you're okay.

"No!" You moaned as you fucked yourself back on your brother's girth shamelessly. "M-more, don't want to stop. Not till it t-takes. Please? Please please please," You begged shamelessly as Thor groaned and fucked you through his orgasm, each spurt squelching out around his cock onto the drenched sheets.

"Shh love, you know how Loki worries. We won't stop until you're with child. We promised didn't we?" Thor kissed your shoulder as he reached around to tease your clit, his fingers growing slick the more he played with your nub. "Because the only children you'll be having are ours."

"Even-"

"Even after you're married to that oaf, you'll still be good for us won't you?" Loki placed two fingers under your chin to make you look at him, your eyes glazed over and adoring.

"Yes."