#its a challenge ! and my god its so much to remember at once but its like. a really fun puzzle so far

[discjude]

Yeah this is about right (as always my thoughts are in the tags so there's actually kei content there lmao)

[transgaysex]

dude laying in bed feels crazy

[ceoofglytchell]

Butterfly

Summary: That fateful night on Driftmark Aegon has made a promise to you, one that he has even once never forgotten, while you were gone. However now six years later you return to him and- gods be good- he is going to make that promise a reality and he most certainly won't let you leave him another time.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Strong!Niece!Reader

Word count: 4214 words

Warnings: incest, Reader is described of having Strong like features, Reader is Rhaenyra's and Harwin's second child, fluff, angst, longing, thoughts of major dubcon (it’s only a thought and does not really happen), kinda miscommunication, hurt/comfort, allusions to smut, aegon being miserable, no mention of Y/N

Notes: I was not feeling good last week, but I am back now with this piece here, but I’m not sure if it’s good. But, as always, feedback and criticism is always appreciated and please remember that english is not my native language. Enjoy 💛

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"I promise that one day I will marry you."

Never once in your life have you forgotten the promise that your uncle Aegon had given you six years ago on the shores of Driftmark. Yes, he was drunk, and yes, he knew that your families would never let a union between the two of you come to be, but a boy could dream. At least that was how he had justified the vow later on when you had to separate the following morning.

You have always wished that your beloved uncle would fulfill his very promise one day, but unfortunately the chance got slimmer and slimmer the more years passed and the more protective your mother has gotten over you, because as Rhaenyra's first and only daughter nothing was easy.

You were born with brown curls and hazel eyes like your brothers, making the sin your mother had committed all the more obvious to anyone else, a walking reminder of her carelessness. However you were born much smaller in comparison to your brothers and even as you grew you remained petite and delicately looking, which caused Rhaenyra to fuss over you like a mother hen constantly, as if she feared you to be a porcelain doll that could shatter into a million pieces with just a touch. She certainly treated you this way.

Aegon however has always seen the watchful eyes and silent warning glances of his half-sister to be more of a challenge than an actual prohibition.

The prince had always been enamored with you, his little niece, but he has always bottled up all his hidden feelings for you within himself so it was only natural that one time where he had swallowed down cup after cup of dornish wine and you sat by him and held his hand after he had been scolded by his grandsire, the words spilled out of his mouth like a river.

He had barely been able to remember it the next morning, but as he saw the flush on your cheeks when he stood before you to say his goodbyes, he knew that you knew. It was either a curse or a blessing, but even as he had watched you leave with your mother, brothers, and a few of the servants, he had known that he would see you again one day and if he did, he would take you as his wife.

You were not sure what you had imagined when you and your family returned to King’s Landing after so many years to assure yourselves that Lucery's claim to the island of Driftmark was defined and would not be contested, but no matter how easy this task seemed to be on the first look, you quickly learned that this was not the case. Vaemond Velaryon and your great-aunt Rhaenys had also come.

However, their presence brought you less out of the concept than to see Aemond beating Ser Criston during sparring on the courtyard as if the man was nothing but a normal knight and not a loyal and trusted member of the King’s Guard. His cold look, when he had seen you and your brothers, made a shiver run down your back and a spark of fear set its roots within yourself, even if you had nothing to do with the tragic loss of his eye.

On that dark night you were with Aegon when it had happened. The older prince had drunken too many cups of wine and stumbled down the stairs that led down to the beach and hit his head. You had sat with him afterwards and watched over him, while he had clung to you as if you were the very last thing that kept him rooted to this world and that kept him from loosing himself to the darkness within his heart.

And then he had given you that promise. That one terrible promise that has been on your mind every single day, which had taken a special place in the depths of your heart. He had promised to marry you and you knew that he would do it, if you would get permission, which you doubted, however, because your mother wanted nothing to do with her half-siblings whatsoever.

You were reminded of said promise when you faced him again in the throne room after six long years; He and his family dressed in Hightower green and gold and you with yours in Targaryen red and black. The difference could not be greater and the tension that lay in the hall could be felt by everyone.

You tried to stick to your mother's words, you really did, but over and over again your warm gaze found his and every time you caught him staring right back at you, an unknown glimmer in his amethyst colored eyes, which you neither could nor wanted to explain.

However, things escalated quickly and your mother quickly pulled you out of the throne room by the arm, leaving the headless body of Vaemond Velaryon behind on the cold stone floor, for which your stepfather was responsible, the word 'bastards' echoing in your ears. It was not easy to be confronted with the truth after all these years, which your mother tried to hide so convulsively, although it was obviously in everyone's eyes and the entire realm knew the truth of your parentage.

Your shocked eyes found those from Aegon before you vanished behind the doors and you immediately knew that this was not the last time you would see him that evening- and you were right.

Your maids, who were also some of your closest friends at the same time, were currently dressing you for dinner when it suddenly knocked on the heavy wooden doors to your chambers, which still looked exactly the same before you had been forced to leave back then. Without having allowed him to come inside, Aegon stepped into the privacy of your old chambers, which were illuminated with flickering candles, whereupon the servants stopped tugging uncomfortably on your hair and stepped away from you, bowing their heads as was custom.

"You may leave us," you told the other women, whereupon they all looked at you with a questioning frown.

"But princess-" "Please, I can do it."

Neither you nor the maids knew really whether you meant your hair or the prince who stared at you without having lost a word so far, which was extremely untypical for your uncle. However, the cup of wine in his right hand was familiar and you immediately became painfully aware of how much you had missed him.

The moment the doors fell shut again and you both were alone in the room and actually stood in front of each other for the first time again in six years, a bright grin broke out on his face and he slowly took a few steps to get closer to you. "Welcome home, little butterfly."

You didn't know exactly what it was; the nickname, his voice, which had matured, or the fact that you finally looked at him again after such a long time, but you couldn't help but close the distance between you two and jump right into his arms.

Aegon was surprised for a brief moment, but he immediately returned your gesture and wrapped his arms around you as well and pressed your slender body tightly against his, burying his nose into your long brown curls, which were half put together into a braid, which was not finished, because you had sent your handmaidens out of the room as soon as you had laid your eyes on him.

He could hear how a quiet, content sigh escaped your lips, whereupon he felt himself relax in your embrace and he felt his grip around his golden cup of wine loosen slightly as if you were the sole cure for the addiction he had developed. After all these years and although you both have grown and changed, you still fit perfectly against him like the last piece of a puzzle that had finally found its rightful place.

"You cut your hair," you noticed with an audible smile in your gentle voice and you immediately snuggled closer to him as if the sole thought of being parted from him for a second time was unthinkable for you.

"And you have grown- if only a little."

You hit him playfully against his shoulder and leaned back a little so that you could look him into his lilac eyes, which you noticed no longer held the same glint as they had back then. In addition, deep dark circles under his eyes adorned his handsome face and he had become even paler, which was why you feared that you needed to worry about his health. He also looked very much tired. However, these little details did not change the fact that the man in front of you was as beautiful as he had been back then if not more.

"Still feisty, I see, butterfly."

"You did not forget it," you noticed with an almost melancholic smile on your rosy lips. Ever since you were children and a small white butterfly had landed on your head in the Godswood, which would happen two or three times more over time, he called you by the name of the animal, since you were probably just as fragile and delicate, you mused. At the beginning you did not really enjoy it, but over time you wanted to hear him say it over and over again- now too.

"Of course not. I would never forget you, my darling."

"Stop it." You looked down onto the ground so that he would not see the obvious blush on your cheeks, but he did regardless. As for you, he paid attention to everything, every little detail.

"I did not forget my promise to you either." The prince said and stroked with one hand over the length of your arm, which was covered by a silken red sleeve. Actually, you did not want to wear a red dress to dinner, as it would only illustrate the fronts between the two sides of your families, but your mother insisted on it. You personally have always preferred lighter colors.

"Really? You appeared to be very much... drunk when you gave it to me, Aegon." You carefully replied while you hesitantly grabbed his hand, the contact igniting a feeling of warmth in you, which you had been longing for as well.

"I was drunk, that much is true. However, I always am and I remember very well that I said that I would marry you."

"This was so long ago-" you said with a quick shake of the head, because you knew that time did not change anything about what he felt for you and what you felt for him. A marriage between the two of you would never be agreed to, even if you could not imagine marrying someone other than him. The hatred between the two sides of your family was just too big and your love would not mend the crack again.

"No, I am serious. Be my wife, please. There is no day that I did not think of you and wanted you to be by my side." He reached for your hands and held them firmly in his own as if that alone could convince you to marry him without further ado and preferably that evening right after having had dinner. He would not allow you to get betrothed, because then he would lose the opportunity to have the only person who has ever taken care of him and who has actually listened to what he had to say. If you were not there, he was miserable- the last few years have been proof of it.

On the other hand, you were completely perplexed and overwhelmed with the situation. You wanted him. He was the only one who had never treated you like a fragile doll or a mindless duckling, but just like a girl like any other and you liked that. You did not want to be considered weak by everyone- of all the dragons you rode Silverwing, by the gods, you were not weak. It was bad enough that you were a dragon rider and your mother did not allow you to ride as much as you would have liked.

Unfortunately, the truth was that Rhaenyra and Alicent would never agree to a union between him and you. They would rather die or burn in the seven hells and you wanted to save yourself the pain that would follow if you asked and the two older women would vehemently forbid it even if nothing spoke against it and it would actually serve to strengthen House Targaryen for future generations. Unfortunately, it was more likely that at some point he would marry one of the daughters of Lord Baratheon or his own sister Helaena and that you would have to marry Lord Cregan Stark eventually.

"You don't know me anymore. If you excuse me, my prince, I have to continue preparing myself for dinner now.”

With a jerk you pulled your hands out of his and sat down at your dressing table, trying to ignore him and push him away from you, because you would not be able to allow your feelings for him to bloom now and in the end you would have to spend your life with another. You would not be able to bear it. The prince looked at you with an expression of utter disbelief on his features, until then a flicker of anger crossed his gaze and he stormed out of your chambers without hesitation, the door falling shut so loudly that it made you flinch.

You just wanted to protect him as well as yourself.

Later at dinner you watched Aegon drowning himself in alcohol and staring at his plate without touching the food at all. Aemond, who sat on the other side of the table, stared at your siblings and you at all times, not letting you out of his sight, until it suddenly escalated and a single toast made everyone become aware of how fragile the bond that held your family together actually was.

Shortly afterwards, your mother informed you that you would return to dragonstone the very next morning and you felt right in your decision to have pushed away the man for whom you had deeper feelings for. It was better for both of you. At least that was what you kept telling yourself.

You told that to yourself when you came back to your rooms and found them empty and dark, you told yourself when you sat alone in front of the fireplace and loosened your braids, when you undressed, put on a light nightgown, and you kept repeating it to yourself when you climbed in bed at last and slowly began to fall into a peaceful sleep. You would not be able to bear the pain that would follow if you allowed yourself to actually be with him.

Aegon still felt the taste of dornish wine on his tongue and its effects clouding his senses when he stood in the middle of the night in the darkness of your bedchambers and stared down at your sleeping form in your bed, the moonlight that fell through the windows illuminating your soft features like you were the very image of the Maiden. He was slightly shaky on his feet and he was well aware that he should not be here, but he just could not control himself. Your rejection before dinner and the way you refused to speak a single word to him while you had sat beside each other had robbed him of his last bit of sanity and he just had to know what you felt.

He had a simple plan; slipping inside your rooms unnoticed, tainting your honor and showing his mother the proof of it in the morning, because then she would have to agree to a union just like his half-sister, since you would ruined for any other man. His plan had been so simple, he would just have to tear the blanket right of you, push your nightgown up to your hips and take his pleasure, but when he approached the edge of your bed and saw how peaceful you looked like sleeping, he could not bring himself to do it.

The prince felt a lump forming in his throat, his heart becoming heavy and he could not help but kneel on the floor next to the bed, while he buried his face next to yours in the pillow in the hope that you would not notice the tears of shame burning in his eyes. You should just sleep on and never find out that he was even here. He was a monster for even thinking of ruining you.

He sobbed into your plush pillows, his hands fisting the silken bed sheets tightly when he suddenly felt something stirring beside him on the mattress, but he did not raise his head just yet. He did not want to look you in the eye after what he had originally come for.

"Uncle? What happened?"

Your gentle voice was like a balm for his soul, but he still continued to quietly sob into your pillows. You did not even ask why he was here, but what had happened. Even now you took care of him, although you had wanted to distance yourself from him a few hours ago for a reason that he simply could and would not understand.

"What have I done? Why are you pushing me away from you? What has changed?”

You quickly rubbed the remnants of sleep out of your eyes and you began to caress his back with your small hands, which made a shiver run down his spine and the tears on his wet cheeks slowly started to dry because no new ones fell, at least not right now. Like always, your touch calmed him.

"Why are you here?" You asked him instead of giving him an answer to his previous questions, because you could not tell him the truth. To see how the man you loved cried on the edge of your bed because of something that you had done when you had actually just wished to protect him from that very pain was making your heart shatter into a thousand pieces. You did not want to feel this pain nor did you want him to experience it. What have you done?

"Don't go," he murmured and finally raised his head slightly again to look at you with his reddened, swollen eyes, even if the room was dark and both of you could barely make each other out in the dark.

"Don't leave me a second time, please. Not again... don’t do this to me."

You sighed and sat up in bed, because this was exactly what you had not wanted to happen. His sensitivity was no secret to you and you knew how much you meant to him and how much he meant to you. Your mother had decided that you would return to dragonstone and you could not argue against her decision after what had happened today at dinner. Your house was more fragile than ever and if the others were to find out what you felt for each other, it would be the stone that would set a giant chaos into motion. It would be the end of Haus Targaryen as you knew it.

"Go away, Aegon," you murmured and sat down in such a way that your knees were pressed against your chest and your arms were wrapped around your legs as if you wanted to give yourself a hug to comfort yourself.

“No, please ... darling, don’t," whimpered the older prince and climbed next to you on the soft mattress, desperately searching for your gaze and your closeness. He wanted to pull you into him, love you and never let you go again even for a small second, because you were the only thing in this world that gave him something akin to a glimmer of hope, a light in the deepest darkness of his broken soul.

"Butterfly…"

"Don't call me that!" You suddenly spat at him loudly, which immediately made him wince and made hot tears burn in his eyes once more, threatening to spill over his pale cheeks.

You have never been angry with him before. Never.

"I love you! Don't you see that? I love you so much, but I cannot live with the pain of loving a man that I cannot call my own.”

That was it. The words and the truth were out and he had heard them. His suffering broke your heart, but he deserved to hear these three words from you at least once. You loved him, you truly did, but a miracle would need to happen so that you would be able to live out your love. It was not his fault, nor was it yours, as it was the hatred that has been burning between your mothers for years- a hatred that would probably never vanish.

Aegon was speechless. For a moment he just shook his head in disbelief, which made his white curls fall over his forehead, but it did not prevent him from looking into your beautiful face and seeing in the desperate look in your dark eyes that you were serious. "But I already am yours, am I not?"

"Aegon..." Your shoulders sagged even further down and you pushed your legs even further against your upper body, the sight of it making him miserable, because he did not want to imagine what would have happened had he actually went through with his plan and he would have taken you without your consent and made you his without warning. You would probably have shouted and fought back and he could never have forgiven himself for it and you would never have forgiven him either. No, he was glad that he had not done it.

He carefully approached your trembling shape on the bed and he tenderly wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against him as firmly as he could. Now you started to sob into his shoulder bitterly and he started to slowly rock you back and forth, while he buried his nose into your brown hair like he had done earlier, because your scent always seemed to calm him down, but your hair was also a sign for everyone else that you should not exist and that you, being a bastard, would be monstrous by nature, but he could not care about that in the slightest. You were beautiful on the inside and outside and one day he would prove it to you- perhaps even tonight.

"Marry me?" Back then it was a promise, now it was a serious question and he meant it with every fiber of his body. You were meant to be his wife, even if your love would be a scandal in the eyes of the gods, but he has never been a religious man anyways.

"I can't, uncle, I can't."

Aegon started to place soft and slow kisses on the top of your head. He began his exploration on your hair, then wandered down to your forehead, brushing his lips over your eyebrows, over your cheeks, which were wet from the tears that you shed for him until he reached your own lips, which looked so soft and inviting that he could hardly hold back.

"Marry me." He whispered against your lips and he looked for your gaze to see what was going through your head. Your eyes had always been the mirror to your soul.

His voice, his pleading tone, his warm breath that stroked your face, and the sudden closeness to him was just too much for you.

You do not dare to say it, but a simple, barely noticeable nod on your part was enough and the prince kissed you as if his life depends on it, his hands wandering over every centimeter of your body while he gently pushed you to lay on your back and he hovered over you, not separating his mouth from you for even a split second.

The rest of the night you both drowned in a sea of desire and pleasure, years of wanting and yearning coming to its climax. At some point, his hands had sneaked under the fabric of your nightgown, undressed you, while you had returned the favor at the same time, whereupon he had not lost any time to show you what it would mean to be his wife and you enjoyed every single second of it.

Neither Aegon nor you really listened to the argument that followed the next morning after your maid had told Rhaenyra who she had found laying next to you in your bed and what had to have happened at night based on the red stain on your sheets. Insults got thrown around, voices became louder, but you merely snuggled closer to your lover, who protectively wrapped an arm around your waist and leaned his head to yours while a feeling of happiness flooded him.

You were his now and neither his mother nor yours could ever take you away from him ever again. It was too late for that now.

Love was often said to be the death of duty and Aegon Targaryen would not give a single shit about duty for the rest of his life if it meant he got to forever hold you in his arms like this and love you like you deserved.

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[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

CAN U DO JUDE BELLINGHAM FLUFF LIKE TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF... LIKE uh having a family with him and its all sweet

Pink Dress

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Your daughter takes after you, something that Jude both hates and loves.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Husband!Jude Bellingham x Wife!you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 1.2k

Warnings! FLUFF, cute kid, domestic fluff, sweetness, baby fever, dilfjude, he's such a good dad.

Jude had always loved that your daughter had taken your sassy side.

After all it was the thing that made him fall in love with you.

But right now, he was at his wit's end. The spirited retorts that once charmed him now echoed through the house like tiny thunderclaps. Your daughter, standing defiantly with her hands on her hips, mirrored the very stance you used to take when you challenged him.

The same fiery determination in her eyes, the same spark that had drawn him to you so many years ago.

He took a deep breath, and he knelt down to her level. "I'm sorry babygirl, but we have to hurry." Clearly, that was not the right thing to say.

Her lips pursed in that familiar way, a mini-him staring back at him with an unyielding resolve. "But Daddy, I not wanna wear the blue dwess. I wanna wear the pink one!" she insisted, her stubborness rivaling yours.

Why did the women in his life love to go against him.

Jude glanced at the clock, knowing they were already running late. He softened his tone, trying to channel the patience you always seemed to have in abundance. "I know you do, and the pink one is lovely. But remember, mommy picked out the blue dress for picture day. We don't have time to change now."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and for a moment, his heart ached at the sight. He could never say no to his little girl. Something she knew. And used to her advantage.

He pulled her into a gentle hug, her small frame trembling slightly. "Okay, okay," he whispered, stroking her hair. "How about this? After picture day, we'll have a special Daddy-Daughter day, and you can wear your favorite pink dress then. We can go to the park, get some ice cream, whatever you want. Deal?"

Nora sniffled, considering his offer. "Pwomise?" Her tiny voice was filled with hope, and Jude could see the wavering resolve in her eyes. He smiled and wiped away her tears with his thumb. "I promise, sweetheart. Pink dress, ice cream, and the park. Just the two of us."

She nodded slowly, her lips curving into a small smile. "Otay, Daddy."

Jude stood up, lifting her effortlessly placing her on his hip before giving her a big kiss on the cheek. "Let's go show Mommy how beautiful you look in your blue dress, huh?"

Her giggle was music to his ears, and as they made their way to the bedroom.

Jude felt a wave of relief wash over him. The crisis had been averted, and his little girl was smiling again. He would kill to keep that smile on her face. Forever.

He gently pushed the door open, and there you were, laying in bed with Klara laying on your chest. Jude felt his heart swell at the sight. She was fast asleep, her tiny hand clutching your shirt. And you looked as beautiful as ever.

Even though it had only been a few days since the baby had arrived, you seemed to radiate an otherworldly glow. Just like the goddess he knew you were. God, he was a lucky bastard.

Jude tiptoed into the room, not wanting to disturb the peaceful scene. You looked up at him with tired but loving eyes, and he could see the exhaustion etched into your face. Yet, there was an unmistakable serenity there too, a contentment that mirrored his own.

"Look who's ready for picture day," he whispered, turning slightly so you could see Nora perched on his hip, now beaming in her blue dress. You smiled, amusement swimming in your eyes. You knew how much of a hellion your daughter could be and you were thankful to Jude for volunteering to tame her. The cute adorable little beast.

"Well, don't you look absolutely stunning, my little princess," you cooed softly, careful not to wake the baby. Your daughter preened at the compliment, any earlier resistance forgotten in the face of your praise.

Jude carefully set her down and she immediately ran over to you, climbing onto the bed with the kind of energy only a young child possessed. She carefully snuggled up next to you, and you wrapped an arm around her, holding both your children close.

"Ready for your big day?" you asked her, brushing a stray curl away from her face. She nodded enthusiastically, her earlier tears now just a distant memory.

"Yeah!" she chirped, her excitement bubbling over. "Daddy said after pictures we can have a Daddy-Daughter day!"

You glanced at Jude, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "Did he now? That sounds like a wonderful idea." The softie. This is how it went everytime.

Jude chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged. "What can I say? She's got me wrapped around her little finger." That she did.

You laughed softly, the sound a soothing balm to his soul. "I know the feeling," you said, looking down at Klara who was still peacefully asleep. The love the both of you had for your daughters was something that sometimes scared you. The way you would do anything for them. Anything.

He watched as you gently kissed the top of Nora's head, and sighed. Jude knew then and therre that he couldn't have picked a better mom for his precious little girls. You were everything he ever wanted, ever dreamed of. You've given him everything and he vowed everyday to reciprocate that.

He loves doing life with you.

Nora snuggled closer to you, her tiny fingers playing with the edge of your shirt. "Mommy, can you come too? To the park and ice cream?"

Your eyes met Jude's, a silent conversation passing between you. You knew how much he cherished these special moments alone with Nora, needed them.

What with his career taking up a lot of his time sometimes. He had often shared his fears with you. Fears of missing out on their lives. But you were always there to reassure him.

"I think Daddy and Nora should have their special day," you said softly, smoothing down her curls. "But maybe we can all go together another time. What do you think?"

Nora seemed to ponder this for a moment before nodding. "Okay, Mommy. We can do that."

Jude smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him. "It's a deal then," he said, giving you a grateful look. "And maybe tonight, after picture day and our little adventure, we can all have dinner together. Just the four of us."

You nodded, your eyes shining with love and happiness. "I'd like that very much. Now you guys better get going so you're not late. I want good pictures." You squinted playfully at the two, causing Jude to get into a soldire stance.

"Ma'am! Yes ma'am!" Jude teased, saluting with a grin. Nora giggled, mimicking his salute with an exaggerated seriousness that melted into laughter. You chuckled softly, shaking your head at their antics.

With a final glance at Klara, still peacefully asleep in your arms, Jude gently scooped up Nora and headed for the door. She squealed in delight, waving enthusiastically at you as they made their way out of the room. You waved back, your heart swelling with love for your little tribe.

You were the luckiest woman in the world.

No one could convince you otherwise.

-Bianca🌻

[sanguineterrain]

I am FERAL over your knight Jason thought. FERAL!!! Okay check this out: so Jason's ignoring reader because he feels guilty right? Maybe he tried to give them back but the king wouldn't allow it. But maybe the reader misunderstands and thinks they're not doing their "duties" so they make dinner and breakfast and wash his clothes and basically act like a perfect spouse. How would Jason react? 👀

Dear god... I feel another series coming on...

Idkidk, their dynamic is just really interesting to me! it's probably gonna be a bit of a slow burn here. Feel free to send more thoughts about them. I am rotating these two like a rotisserie chicken in my brain.

knight!jason todd x gn!reader. ambiguous time period but just assume it's olden times *gestures vaguely*. tw arranged marriage/forced relationship but it's complicated! jason is full of angst and self-loathing but he's a sweetie as per usual. original post for context.

****

The soldier—Jason—has said four words since you've arrived.

The first was "here," which he said whilst handing you a mug of milk. He didn't look at you as he said it, and that morning, he left for a five-day long station. You only know that because he said, after handing you the milk, "I've been stationed."

You realized it was five days when you heard his horse galloping towards the house... five days later.

You haven't initiated conversation because though you're a commoner, and no one ever had much hope for you to become anything but an old spinster, you know not to challenge knights.

But this is fucking ridiculous.

"Do you like veal?" you ask on your fourteenth day here.

Jason is about to leave, his boots half laced. He freezes at your question and looks up.

You stand tall, chin up. This is a normal question. A question a wife would ask her husband, except you're not a wife, and you're pretty sure this soldier isn't a husband either.

"I like veal," he says carefully, slowly. "Would you like me to fetch some from the market?"

Now, this is where it gets tricky. When the king summoned you, he made it clear that you were expected to care for Jason under his rules. You don't know how to navigate this world. You know what couples in your village do, but you don't know what's expected of you here.

"Actually, I..." Jason looks at you. His eyes are very green. He has a surprisingly sweet face under his helmet. "Actually, I was wondering if I could go. On my own."

"Oh."

You brace yourself for arguing or yelling. True, he hasn't raised his voice once, but he also hasn't said much at all. It's like living with a ghost.

"Yes, of course. Of course you can go." He fishes out a pouch of coins and gives them to you. You take it slowly, waiting for him to realize his mistake. He doesn't.

"Thank you," you say.

He nods and watches you walk.

"Wait."

You stop. Here it comes.

"There's a cargo ship in port today. The guards rotate at noon."

He leaves before you can form a thought. You hold the coins, watching blankly as the door shuts behind him. His horse whinnies, and then he's gone.

The market isn't far from the cottage. It's fantastic to be outside again. No one's noticed your absence, clearly, but that's alright. You've never expected more.

You buy a good cut of veal and potatoes and carrots and apples. Jason gave you more money than any cut of meat would cost, so surely he assumed you would buy other food. Why else would he give you so much?

A ship's horn drones in the distance. You're feeling some oranges when you remember his words. A cargo ship.

The sun is almost at its highest point.

"Oi! Either buy 'em or stop feelin' 'em!" the seller snaps.

You roll your eyes and move on from the orange stand. You can see the horizon of where the sky meets the sea from here. Any moment, the guards will change, and the ship will be...

You stop. Was Jason hinting at your escape?

No, he couldn't have been! That's preposterous. Why would he want you gone? The king took you for a reason.

And where would you go anyway? Once you leave, you'd be a criminal forever. You couldn't make a home on your own. And who knows what could happen in between? Pirates, enemy soldiers, anybody could snatch you up.

This must've been a test. A test to see if you would run. That's why he agreed to you going so easily.

No, your escape can't be planned now. Not when you're so obviously uncomfortable, and Jason knows it.

You ignore the ship and go home with your purchases. You spend the rest of the afternoon preparing veal stew. You warm leftover bread over the fire and set a pot of butter on the table.

Jason comes in louder than he has before, humming quietly. You perk up at the sound, happy for the lack of silence.

You set a bowl of stew at his chair and wait by the fire. As soon as he enters the kitchen, the humming stops.

"Welcome home," you say, wringing your hands. "I made supper."

Jason glances at the table, then back at you.

"You came back," he says.

"Why wouldn't I?" you ask, face neutral as you cut the bread into chunks.

"That—did the ship come?"

"Yes."

Jason sits. His face is dirty from training.

"I bought more than veal," you say, and hand him the pouch. "I hope that's alright. We—there were no more potatoes."

He takes the pouch, rubbing the string tied around the top. "You went to the marketplace... and came back."

It's not a question, but it sounds like there might be one behind it.

"Certainly," you say. "I'm loyal to you, Jason. I serve you."

He looks up, blinking rapidly. Then he looks back at his stew.

Oh, right. He's waiting for you to ask permission to sit.

"May I join you?" you ask.

Jason flinches. "You don't... you don't have to ask. I would never stop you from eating."

The words hang in the air. It's like neither one of you can speak right.

You watch him, and he watches you as you serve yourself and sit on the opposite side of the table. Jason takes the first bite, and you eat right after.

"Is the supper satisfactory? Have I done well?" you ask.

Jason stops chewing and sets his spoon down. You're struck by his shift in demeanor. You worry for a moment you've screwed up something as dim-wittingly simple as stew.

His eyes are sad as they fall on you. It's akin to grief, the pain he wears, but you don't know why he's grieving. You silently offer him more bread, pushing it toward him. He takes it.

"Yes," he says quietly and eats another spoonful. "You did. Thank you for supper."

Jason cleans his bowl three times. You have no stew leftover, which pleases you.

But as soon as Jason finishes eating, he gets up, rinses his bowl, and wordlessly leaves.

You don't see him for the rest of the night.

Somehow, you feel lonelier than when you weren't speaking.

[your-girl-mj]

The truth. [42!Miles Morales x Spiderwoman!reader]

summary: He wants the truth, and you can't give it to him.

warning: cursing, mentions of cheating, accusations, arguments. angst (?)

notes: written in 3rd point of view,

created: july 25, 2023

published: july 26, 2023

exhausted, tired, drained. those three words are to describe what [name] is feeling. dragging her legs on the floor of the empty, quiet hallway of her apartment building. her suit hidden inside her (miles') jacket and some loose pants that her boyfriend gifted her.

Miguel gave her a rough mission with two anomalies on the loose in the same dimension. it's a good thing she her battles didn't leave wounds. god, she missed her bed already. the soft sheets, with miles snuggle up to her from behind.

the girl smiled at the thought of the one she loved the dearest and thinking about what he's doing at this time of hour, [1:47 am]. her heart melted at the image of miles sleeping soundly in his bed and how good he looked when his brows were relaxed and not formed into a scowl.

the air paused its way into her lungs when she opened her apartment door and saw the said boyfriend leaning on the couch's back rest, facing the door. as if he knew she would come back at this time of hour.

her grip on the knob tightened, but not too tight. yet her fingers left a dent on the cold metal. "miles! hey, i didn't know you were coming over." [name] beamed warmly at him, acting as if she didn't come home so early in the morning.

miles' stare was hard and unnerving. "where were you?" he asked, tilting his head as if challenging her for the truth. "the last message i sent you was around nine, saying I'll come over, and its one in the fucking morning." he push himself off the couch, approaching his s/o with threatening steps, slowly closing the door behind her. "so... where were you?"

his face was inches from her, and she hates fights. especially fights with miles. "i was working overti—"

"you said you were sick." miles suck his cheek, breathing out his nose, not buying to her another lie.

"i am!" she defended, quickly thinking another excuse when it was clear she was caught in the spotlight. "por eso... de camino aquí, compré medicinas, teroso." she took his arm, softly squeezing it to ease his worried thoughts. remembering about her last excuse to miles, she told him when he asked for a sleepover. [that's why... on my way here, i bought medicines, treasure.]

though, it didn't stop him from going to her apartment. he wanted to take care of her after she told him she had a high fever. with his mom working in the hospital, he knew a little bit of medicines and treatment. but he was met in an empty home.

his eyes narrowed, not fluttering from her touch, yet he made no effort to lean away from it. "i was so worried." his tone almost gone mute, "i came to your window because i thought you were resting, you weren't there." miles couldn't help his voice as it started to weaver, "pensé que estabas en la sala de estar pero no estabas allí. i've even looked the streets for you." he sighed. [I thought you were in the living room, but you weren't there.]

he runs his hand into his face in exhaustion, as [name] stayed in silent with guilt — guilt, that is slowly eating her up for not telling him everything. he needs to know, he deserves to know. but the thought of him causing his life to save hers always goes through her head. once he knows it's his s/o, he'll feel the need to protect her when she is supposedly protecting him.

"miles, I'm sorry for worrying you." 'and for every lie i told you...' the girl utter yet few words are left in her mind, she embraced him. griping his shirt, having a feeling that shit will be going down soon. "i have something important to do and—"

"and what? tell me." he pulled away as much as he wanted to stay in her arms, but he's a little too pissed right now. "tell me where you were. it's been months." [name] felt her heart drop with culpability, miles known for a long time now. his hard stare soon softens, hating how he's acting.

"cariño, sé que me has estado mintiendo, te conozco. dime por favor..." whispered in his soft voice with her hands in his, miles kissed the back of her palms, he feels like begging for the truth now. [I know you've been lying to me, I know you. Tell me please...]

his patience is getting thinner and thinner as days passed. his girl, disappearing with excuses and lies that he didn't point out. but what's a relationship without trust?

her eyes met his, [name] breath out. "miles..."

"all I'm asking is for you to be honest." his hold tighten, already have a thought about what will happen.

"i... can't tell you." her lips pursed, turning for head to the side. he'll die if he knows about her identity. with all her other version in multiverses; their miles as spiderman... left in dust, crying his eyes out, her body in his arms covered in her own blood. what can prevent such a tragic event when their roles are now reversed?

[name] closed her eyes, trying to leave those horrible thoughts, now breath heavily. she saw other versions of miles, they're mostly spider-people, and her fate in their canon event always left shivers. much like her coworker gwen stacy, her canon event made her peter parker died, when it got their roles reverse.

she can not risk it. she can't. she'll break.

"why not?" miles' jaw visibly clenched, his mind is slowly clouded with horrible doubts.

"miles, you need to understand — " she paused, "i just... can't lose you... i can't tell you." she turned her head away, unable to witness the hurt and anger mixed in his face. it's hard to lie to him. it's hard to resist his plead at times. but there are times when it has its limit.

miles stood, back straight. towering over [name], his face held betrayal when she peaked, and she knew where this was about to go. "you're cheating on me, aren't you?" his face holds a scowl, disappointment, distrust, betrayal mixed into an expression.

"what? no!" she was quick to deny, "i would never do that to you." she frown, hurt for being accused by such a thing.

"that explains more than you ever told me." his tone is starting to rise, with her on his tail matching his voice.

"why don't you trust me?!" her hands flown with an exaggerated movement.

"i did! but you keep on disappearing!" they're now head to head. one holding her ground while the other digging deep for the truth. "on dates, hangouts, movie nights, even in the middle of dinner! what is more to not assume?!"

"its was an emergency!" it was easy to tell the neighbours are listening to the argument right now. how can you not? when the couple who are oh-so-lovely are fighting about one of them cheating.

"of course it was!" her s/o's voice laced with sarcasm before it turned into a venom. "not to mention, i can hear you talking to guys on the phone!"

"it was my boss! he needs me for something!" with her unconventional strength at this moment, she accidentally left a crack on the wall when her hand smacked it while explaining. but miles didn't notice. his eyes were on her, and it didn't leave for a split second.

"yeah right, and what about that tall fucking dude with the funky ass hair?!" he pointed on the couch, remembering when he caught the two of them drinking soda and saying he was a friend at work. he believed her, of course he believed her. but right now, he's doubting eveything.

"i told you, hobie was a friend from work!" she defended once again, not telling the full truth. "i invited him in that time because we both needed rest!"

"rest from what exactly?!" miles felt like punching something, anything. horrible images flashing in his mind, he despise it. he deeply despite the thought.

"you don't understand, i'm doing this for you!" she yelled, dropping the subject. knowing if this continued one or both with end up getting hurt. wounded by harsh words.

"¡ay bendito!" he shouted, his hands almost pulling his braids out as he ran his hand on his head. "enough with your bullshit excuses! if it's not true, then what is the truth? tell me." he demanded, infuriated.

— choose your ending:

tell him the truth.

lie for his safety.

this is the first time in a while to write again, but miles keep running in my mind 😩

[targaryen-dynasty]

Hello!!! Not sure if I’m doing this right, so please direct me if needed ❤️

I would absolutely love modern Aemond with GIF #9 🥵

Kinks: consensual-non-consent, and overstimulation 😋

KINKTOBER SLEEPOVER.

No. 6 -> GIF.

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; NON/DUB CON, CONSENSUAL NON-CON, p in v, creampie, chase play, overstimulation, somewhat dark Aemond, female Reader

WORDS: 2 K (I don't know what came over me)

NOTES: Gods, idk why but this was a challenge! Thank you so much hehe! 🫂 Hope you like it!

With the whole Targtower side of the family in Dragonstone to celebrate the birth of Rhaenyra‘s sixth child and first daughter, Visenya, the townhouse was eerily quiet. A few small table lamps and candles granted just some sense of light, yet it was barely bright enough for your eyes to adjust to it. 

Under the premise of having to do something for college – you knew it couldn’t stray any further from the truth – Aemond had been allowed to stay behind, occupying the large house all by himself. 

And you two had plenty of ideas to use the time. 

Your heartbeat had been pounding in your ears, thrumming against the confines of your ribcage, and you had been more than certain he could hear it from your hiding spot under his older brother’s bed. 

His footsteps had been lithe, almost quiet, safe for the occasional squeaking of wood beneath his feet, stalking towards you like a hunter trying to herd its prey. The giggles that slipped past your lips had left them out of sheer excitement or nervousness, you couldn’t quite tell, but once you had spotted the silhouette of his feet standing in the threshold, you became dead silent. 

“Where are you, mh?” his deep voice had rasped out suddenly, somehow still catching you by surprise despite knowing he was there. Every breath had caught in your throat, and it had been incredibly difficult for you to keep them shallow enough for him not to notice. 

Aemond had prowled around the bed, slowly, carefully, and all you could do was rely on your hearing, since Aegon’s room had been too dark to see anything. 

You had heard him stopping, taking in a deep breath. “Maybe I’ll have to start without you then.” His words had tempted you to leave your hiding place, yet you had remembered what you and him had discussed beforehand. 

It had seemed as if his footsteps disappeared, getting lighter, and even his presence hadn’t felt so suffocating anymore. 

But boy had you been wrong. 

A tight grip had seized your ankles, and without a warning, you had been dragged from under the bed, the squeal you released more tinged with fear than amusement. “Got you,” he had rasped, and the smug smirk on his lips perhaps had not been visible, but perfectly audible. 

While you had been prepared for him to drag you back to his room, you were utterly confused when he had thrown you on the king size bed you not-so-long-before were hiding under. 

“Aem–” you tried to reason, but were quickly silenced when his hands yanked down your leggings in one, swift tug. Out of instinct, you squeezed your legs shut, the cold air hitting your soaked cunt, but Aemond did not seem to mind, his large hands fisting your tank top before they tore the flimsy fabric apart. 

In a matter of seconds, Aemond had flipped you onto your belly and proceeded to straddle your thighs, pressing his full weight down on top of you to pin you to the mattress. It made your body unable to move, tears brimming in your waterline already. 

“Shush now, bunny,” he murmured, not so gently massaging your shoulders. Something cold touched your skin where his hands were, but you couldn’t make out what it was. “Found you, and now I’m claiming my prize.”

There was not much left of the usual smoothness in his voice, a rougher edge now more than prominent despite him murmuring and drawling the words. The feigned softness sent a shiver down your spine that settled at the apex between your legs. 

“I was so close to doing this without you, to just fuck my hand to the thoughts of your sweet cunt, but your cute, little giggles, fuck,” his words were interrupted by a heavy groan. “I just have to have you, and you will let me, right?”

His hands on your shoulders were not at all as comfortable as the times he had massaged you on one of your movie nights – but comfortable and soft wasn’t what you wanted anyways. Not tonight. 

You tried to squirm away from his grasp, which earned you a disappointed scoff from him. 

And that was when the cold thing in his hands came to use. 

“Really want me to tie you up, sweet thing, mh? So desperate?” 

His weight on top of you shifted forwards, and soon enough both your wrists were tied to the edges of the headboard, the cold satin tie not doing much to cool your hot and flushed skin. 

With your heartbeat still pounding in your ears, you barely heard him opening the zipper of his jeans, pushing them down enough to free his rock hard cock. As he dragged the tip through your drenched folds, you bit your lip while Aemond released a relieved groan. 

“You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?” he asked, serving a slap to your ass that had you squirming again. “Beg for me to make you feel good, bunny.”

“P-Please,” you sobbed, burying your face in the pillow beneath you. 

He seemed desperate, considering that was all the begging it took to get him going.

He thrusted his cock into the crevice of your ass once, before one hand groped your hip roughly enough to raise it and angle it to his liking. As he forced himself into your tight core, your hands balled into fists, and your teeth dug into your bottom lip to stifle a moan. But to no avail. 

With your walls practically choking his throbbing cock, you and Aemond moaned in unison, whereas yours turned into a whine as he immediately set up a pace that knocked the air straight out of your lungs. 

It perhaps was the adrenaline and the animalistic manner in which he claimed you, but not long after that, you toppled over your edge. The force of your orgasm left you in a dazed state that robbed you of any coherent thoughts, your body becoming limp. At first, the overstimulation was not too bad – until you noticed that Aemond’s release didn’t follow immediately after yours. 

“Feels good, huh?” he groaned, making his intentions clear. The limpness disappeared, tension taking over your body. You tugged on the ties to escape the aching between your legs in vain. 

“N-No,” you whined, pathetic tears running down your flushed cheeks while the rest of your body betrayed you. Your walls fluttered and trembled around him, and the overstimulation subsided enough for pleasure to take over again. The urge to pee became prominent in your mind, and you knew that, even if you could trust the urge, he’d gladly let you pee the bed if you wouldn’t resort to saying the safe word. 

Each time his throbbing length slid into your cunt, embraced by your tight walls, you grew more and more addicted to the building pressure inside of your body. 

“Give me another,” he groaned, “I want it.” For a split second, you weren't sure if it was Aemond or Aegon pounding into you from behind, since he certainly sounded like his older brother – a spoiled man-child that always got what he wanted, whenever he wanted.

You whimpered and whined, hands clawing the cold satin to keep yourself grounded. “N-No,” you panted, “t-too much… too full.” 

And while you firmly believed that would be enough to have him stop, even though you didn’t really want him to, Aemond merely snaked a hand under your body to toy with your clit, matching the merciless snaps of his hips. 

It was a mix of heat, pain and pleasure surging through your veins like wildfire, turning your vision blurry, and forcing your body to the point it didn’t cooperate anymore. His touch was overwhelming, causing you to gasp into the pillow. 

Your back arched, and your blurry vision turned hot-white from how intense that second orgasm was. Even though you were in a haze, torn between pleasure and pain, you noticed the falter in his thrusts and the strained groan he released as he tried to fuck you through your second orgasm. It felt good to know it was just as torturous for him as it was for you. 

It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Aemond to recover and regain his composure, whereas you were rendered a drooling mess. He slammed his hips into yours to bury himself to the hilt, the sounds of skin slapping skin even louder than your whines and his grunts. 

Your mouth was agape, the pillow damp with your saliva and tears. Your body was at the point where even the tension in your arms had gone out, resting limply between the struts of the headboard, dragging forward and back with each movement of him.  

You thought your body had enough time to get used to his pace and size, but each thrust brought you closer to the certainty that your body might split apart. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when Aemond’s hips stilled, pubic bone pressed against your ass. With his breath heavy and erratic, it was clear that he had reached his climax, throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of you. “Fuck,” he cursed, voice tinged with a hint of relief. While you were expecting this to be the safe call for it all to end, he caught you by surprise when he easily picked up his previous pace again. 

The way his grunts and groans sounded more strained than normal made clear that he was fighting the same battle against the overstimulation than you did, but it seemed he just wasn’t satisfied with you coming only twice for him.

“One more for me, bunny,” he rasped. “That’s all I need.”

His seed oozed out of your assaulted hole with his ministrations at this point, coating his cock and dripping down his balls, acting as added lubrication. The sounds were lewd, squelching and slapping filling the room each time he hit the spot inside of you that made stars dance along your vision.  

With the heat building inside of you for a third time – you weren’t even sure if it had left after the second orgasm – the awful, aching pleasure crawling to the surface, you wanted to scream, but nothing more than another whimper left your lips. 

Aemond fucked you through your third high, the erratic snaps of his hips elongating the pleasure. His hand had long left your clit, only to be replaced by his heavy balls, and each time they slapped against your sensitive clit, your body jerked from the force of the aftershocks and overstimulation. 

“That’s it,” he cooed, his thrusts becoming slower and softer until they eventually seized. “So fucking hot.” Both hands groped your ass, squeezing and teasing your flesh while he granted you a few moments to come down, to catch your breath. 

If you had to stand up just now, you were certain you’d fall face first, your legs completely limp and not able to cooperate. 

Aemond leaned forwards to release your wrists. His cock was still nestled snugly inside of your twitching walls, a white rim surrounding the base, and the aftershocks and overstimulation took a lot longer to subside. His hands wrapped around both your wrists to gently massage and rub the skin, soothing the discomfort the ties probably had brought you. 

Your face was buried in the pillows, and you found it hard to focus on anything he said. “You did so, so well for me,” he praised, slowly pulling out. With you still lying on your stomach and the townhouse still being poorly lit, you didn’t see him flinching at the friction he caused himself. 

Aemond returned seconds later with a cloth to clean you up, before he scooped you up in his arms. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his calming scent. “I’ll get a bath ready for you,” he said, slowly walking towards the bath. “You get to soak while I clean up your mess. And after that, I’ll join you, how does that sound?”

You lazily blinked up at him and nodded, a tired smile on your lips. 

While you should be touched by his gentle side, by how well he was providing you with aftercare, all you could focus on was the next time his family would be out of town. 

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 4: Pushing the limits

genre: mostly fluff... with a tiny bit of angst because I just can't not write angst LMAO

word count: 5861

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: for once, you have a good day. and you feel untouchable. until, that is, you're not.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: sorry for the delay on the update, but it's finally here! I'm excited to see this story evolving! what are you excited about with this chapter? Let me know in the comments! <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

It’s weird to think that once upon a time, you lived in New York. 

You had always loved the city in all its might. A lot of people complained about the grey, tall buildings, but you used to think that the colour suited you. That the lifeless of it all didn’t really matter, because life was all over New York City. The bustling of the people, the voices and languages mixing in every block, the smell of food from the falafel carts in every corner; sure, the city was dead, but my god were the people alive. 

You were alive, back then. 

So much so that you think you might have attracted the dead, because the night you met Josh was a night you felt invincible. You felt like you had enough power in you to light up the entire grid of the city that never slept, so when he approached you, with his light blonde hair and bright blue eyes, you were up for the challenge. Even your friend was impressed when you didn’t coil away from his eager hands, and maybe she regrets it now– maybe she curses herself for not pulling you away from him, for not stoping you when you left with him. Maybe she hates herself for what she let you do back then, but the truth of the matter is that even if she had tried, you don’t think she would’ve succeeded.

Josh was different than most guys you knew, but that didn’t mean much– your aversion to human interaction had always plagued you when it came to romance and friendships. Alas, you found your similars; you met people who loved book just as much as you and you found your place with a selected few. You didn’t mind, not having all that many friends when you had an amazing handful instead; they were all loyal, understanding, and kind, much like you. 

Meaning that Josh wasn’t. But you didn’t know that at first, too blinded by the flowers, and the expensive dinners, and the beautiful gifts. Whenever you remember them– the moments, the memories, the things– you’re washed by a sense of shame and embarrassment unlike anything else you felt before. You’d like to stand up for yourself and deny it, deny all of it, say you’re not materialist like this, but that would be a lie. You are a bookseller, for crying out loud. A collector. For you, mementos mean something; the feeling of something familiar in your hands, be it the weight or the texture or just the shape, enough to bring back moments that are long gone in the hands of time. Objects and souvenirs are the next best thing you have to a photo album of memories that can’t be captured by a camera, and you are not ashamed of it. 

What you are ashamed of was how easily you fooled yourself for him. For Josh. It was all those damned fairytales you’ve read growing up, it had to be. Or maybe it was his friends and their comments of how perfect you two were together. Whatever it was, it had to be something. You’d hate to believe that you were shallow enough to endure him on his worst days just because of the things he gave you on his good days. 

Naturally, Josh was a much more extroverted personality. Keeping up with his social life was exhausting. Every night there was something to do, a dinner, a party, a meet-up. And those weren’t all that fun, either, though you learned to fake it pretty well. During these public appearances, you let yourself believe that yes, you two were this amazing power couple. You allowed yourself a moment to push away from all the regret and just enjoy the small things– the touches, the fleeting kisses, the loving nicknames. Because you knew that once you got home, all of that would fade and disappear until the next event you’d be forced to attend.

The question that most people asked was why did it take so long for you to leave him, why did it have to be that bad before you allowed yourself to go; and the answer was always the same: you don’t know. You don’t fucking know why you stayed with him, you don’t know why you loved him, you don’t know anything except the fact that you did– you did stay, you did love him, you did everything you wished you hadn’t. And it still led you to that night, to that rotten smelling taxi, to you crying in a red eye flight, to you landing, lost and hurt.

Because that night might have been the first time he laid his hands on you, but you doubted it would be the last. And it was up to you to do something about it. 

————————————

“Y/N? Are you up?” 

It’s a rhetorical question more than anything– you’ve been awake all night and Spencer knows. He blinked awake with every twist and turn, and in the morning, when his alarm went off, you were stiff on your side, trying to pretend you’re asleep. 

This has nothing to do with him. Last night, things ended in a positive note. After he showered, he came to bed to find you still wearing his FBI hoodie, and the smile on his face was enough to have you smiling too. You fell asleep to the sweet sounds of him reading you The Illustrated Man. Ray Bradbury is a common name in your guys’ conversations and it’s cute how he spends almost fifteen minutes looking for one of his books in the mess that are his shelves. According to him, they used to be alphabetised by author’s last name, much like in your store, but because of the time you’ve had in there, things have gotten a little… messy. You have a habit of reading different things at the same time and Spencer finds that adorable, even if it breaks his system with how you leave books scattered around the house.

“Yeah,” You call back, meeting his eye when he pops his head through the door. His hair is pointing in all directions, and you can smell food coming from the kitchen. “Are you cooking something? Spence, you said you don’t cook, what are you doing?” 

“I’m a thirty year old man,” He said, laughing at how you push the duvet away so desperately you trip on it to run to where you assume the fire is. “Careful! Oh my god, Y/N, you’re breaking my heart here, I’m not burning anything!”

It’s not your fault that your mind immediately goes to the worst case scenario. From all the stories you’ve heard, all the ones that ended in disaster were set in his kitchen. “Spence, you could��ve woken me up,” You shake your head when you see that he actually just made toast with butter and jam. “I would’ve made you something to eat.” 

“You’re not my maid,” He says, standing behind you with his hands in his pockets and this is when you notice– he’s wearing sweatpants. Previously, when he was sick and you brought him medicine, he was wearing casual clothes too, but you were too busy fussing over him to fully appreciate the beauty that is Casual Spencer. His grey sweatpants and crumpled white t-shirt are enough to have you blushing and averting your eyes. In your store, he is excited. At home, he is relaxed. Those are two different things in the best of ways. “And I wanted to… talk.” 

Immediately, you have alarm bells ringing in your head and he notices it. It’s kind of funny, how you learned to read Spencer while he is reading you– you know when things set him off when his eyes widen a little, like a little tell he does every time. Maybe you’re better at this than you think, proud of yourself when he immediately waves his hands in the air, a desperate gaze in his eyes making you snort. “No, no, no,” Words fall from his lips a bit too fast for you to not trip up on them. “No, it’s nothing like that! It’s nothing bad, I just want to know how you’re doing and… check in on you.” 

“You want to check in on me?” You shouldn’t sound this enamoured, and you hate yourself for it. For the first time, you two are having an open conversation about what is happening and you want to make sure you’re present and paying attention.

“Of course I do,” His mumbling is barely audible from the living room, but when he yelps ouch and turns around with a plate of toast and coffee, you hear him loud and clear. Words mean a lot for someone like you, someone who lives off of them, but actions might just mean more because of who they are coming from. Because of his shy nature, when Spencer is direct and a bit more abrupt, it means something– it means that he is angry, or happy, or emotional, or dedicated. You like that he is dedicated about this; about you. It’s selfish in nature, but it’s true– him making you breakfast, him fussing over you, him trying… it’s all just Spencer’s way of showing that he is serious about this, and you don’t mind one bit. “Here you go. Eat up.” 

Instead, you show him you’re serious too. You smile, and wait until he has grabbed his own food and joined you on the couch, to start talking. “Spencer, thank you,” You whisper, looking down at the little space that keeps you two apart as a reminder: things might be getting better, and they might be on the mend, but there is still a long way to go for things to get great. 

Surprisingly enough, though, it’s quite easy to forget about Cat Adams when she’s not harassing you with unwanted gifts or letters, and it feels quite powerful to do so. Just like how easy it was to forget Josh when he couldn’t call you anymore, or touch you anymore, or scream at you anymore. What felt like the weight of the world on your shoulders now is simply the touch of a butterfly, floating away as soon as the moment of overthinking and anxiety is done. Some days, it lasts longer than others, and those are the bad the days. But on the better days, the ones that you are able to busy yourself with your store, your crush, your family; yeah, those are the days that Josh and Cat simply can’t get to you. 

Today is a better day. 

Hell, you might even dare to say that today is a good day, and more and more, you realise just how rare they are. So for today, you don’t allow the ghost of past and future lives to haunt you. For today, you’ll enjoy the blessings of the present. 

“Thank you for… helping me through all of this,” You continue, sipping on your coffee to try and keep your hands busy and away from his. After you got a little taste yesterday, feeling the warmth of his palm enveloping yours, you can’t help but want more. You want more touches, more smiles, more sneaky glances. You just want more Spence, however you can have him. “You didn’t have to help me through it all like this. And you certainly didn’t have to come back in the middle of a case just because of this whole mess. So thank you. This really means a lot. You… You mean a lot to me.” 

“Y/N, I didn’t come back because of this situation, I came back for you.” 

All air is knocked out of your lungs when he says that. In a very Spencer fashion, he doesn’t say it like a confession, like it’s a secret he couldn’t keep it inside anymore. This is nothing more and nothing less than a fact, like all the many others he has told you in your year or something long friendship. He came back for you, and the Earth is round. He came back for you, and the Russian Orthodox Church excommunicated Tolstoy. He came back for you, and Plank’s constant is a fundamental universal constant that defines the quantum nature of energy and relates the energy of a photon to its frequency. 

Simple as that. 

“I came back for you,” He says again, nervous finger ripping his toast apart until there is no longer a toast there anymore, just bits and pieces of what it once was. Cleaning your hands from crumbs and butter, you gently extend your arm, wanting to show him support in the best way you know how to. But then you remember: Spencer is a germaphobe. He’s reserved and he prefers to wave rather than shake hands, and you pause, hand hovering over his in unsureness. Just as you’re about to pull away, he moves, a flash of limbs and plates that leaves you not time to react.

Spencer is fast and it actually surprises you to see the clumsy man being so agile. He takes a hold of your hand and the familiarity of it all spreads a blush through your body. Even if he had stopped then and there, giving you just this little taste of affection, you would be happy. The way your cheeks flush to that rosy tone he loves so much and never says anything is enough of a hint to how you’re feeling, and this time around, Spencer wants to push the limits just a little bit, just a little more. And it’s obvious by the way his eyes shine with a mischievous glimmer of intent, grabbing you into him until your bodies crash together. 

This is the first time you two hug. It’s the first time your arms go around his shoulder, and it’s the first time his arms hook under yours. Spence hugs you like he needs to hug you, face rubbing on your neck like he’s trying to bury it there and hide from the whole world. Like you can actually protect him, and this time, you actually think you can. Your hands move up and down his back, a soft touch for the man that hated them so much. Sadness sweeps through you when you think about little him, avoiding touches and waving from afar instead. “Spence…” You mumble, pushing away for a second to try and talk to him, but he is quick to hold you in place. 

“Stay,” The way his voice breaks off makes you hug him even tighter. “Please. I… I’m happy you’re here.” 

“Spence, what’s going on?” Maybe it’s good that you can’t really look eye to eye. Those honey orbs, always so shiny and expectant, render you defenceless every time. 

He takes a moment to answer and you know he’s thinking, the machinery in his head whirring to lifer. “When you called me that night, I think my heart stopped. I thought… I thought something had happened to you, and I couldn’t… be there. I couldn’t be here. And it broke my heart, because this is my fault. It’s my fault that you’re scared and that your entire life changed, and I’m just really sorry, Y/N.” 

That is a hard pill to swallow. You knew he was feeling guilty; you know more about Spencer than he thinks you do– but what you didn’t know was that he was feeling bad. “Spence, I’m okay. And I’m safe. All because of you. I… I’ve been doing some research, and I know this is not usually something that would take priority for the FBI, considering that besides a note, Cat hasn’t really done anything to me, and if it wasn’t because of you, I’d probably be going through all of this alone.” 

“You are a priority to me.” 

“I know that now,” You whisper, shaky fingers raking through his hair in a desperate attempt to calm him down, praying, begging, hoping  he won’t ask you to stop. “At… first I did blame you a little. Like, not blame you, but… it was like I couldn’t separate you and what was going on and I was angry and upset and I’m sorry too. I pushed you away when I think we both needed some support from each other, and I didn’t mean to make you worry even more, you have to believe me, I swear!”

You don’t know when the roles reverse, but it’s like a war of tug, sometimes you pull and sometimes you get pulled, and right now, Spencer is pulling you into his arms with the strength of a man who needs you. “No, Y/N, no no, you don’t have to apologise! This… God, this is a mess.”

Chuckling with him feels better than chuckling at him, and you take the moment to just enjoy the feeling of being in his arms with no rhyme or reason. “It really is, but it’s our mess and I think that, all in all, we’re dealing with it quite well, Spence.” 

Everything about that moment is soft. The light is trying to come through the curtains and you smile to yourself. Spencer has always been stubborn about sunlight and he prefers the apartment on the darker side, but you can’t help but let your fingers move from his shoulder, dragging the tips all the way from his shoulder, down his arm, and extending to the end of the curtain, hooking them on the corner and raising a little bit. “It’s a nice day out…” You mumble more to yourself than him. 

“Do you want to go out?” Spence asks, raising his head away from your shoulder to look at you, but you just shake your head. “What do you want to do? I have the day off today, so we can do anything you want, I swear.”

“Hmm, can we go to the store?” Sure, it’s not the most exciting thing ever, but you miss it. You miss your books that you keep in a special corner behind the counter, and you miss the deliveries that are probably pilling up with your neighbour. The question is more amusing than anything, though, because you know the answer already. 

And him shaking his head only confirms your theory. Even though you know, you’re still frustrated. “Spence, please…”

“Y/N, your house is above your store,” He does seem to be upset with his own answer, and though that does not make you feel any better, you at least know he understands where you’re coming from. “We can’t risk it right now. Cat just sent a note straight to your address, and we don’t know if she knows you own the store or not, or if she has a partner working with her from the outside, or–”

“I know, I just– I don’t want to lose my store. It’s all I have.” The way your fingers fidget, playing with each other in a familiar nervous manner that you’ve surely picked up from him, has Spencer reaching out to hold your hands with both of his. It leaves you a bit breathless to notice just how big his hands are, covering yours completely. 

“You will not lose your store. I will not let that happen. But I think this could be a good chance to maybe think about a hiring a manager or a helper for a while. Temporarily! Just until we can make sure that you are safe.” Without noticing, his thumb slides over the top of your hand, a calming back and forth that eases the frown on your forehead when you think about a stranger at your store. “Just someone to be with you when the store is empty, Y/N.” 

Logic is on his side, as usual, and although you would never consider this under normal circumstances, you are reaching a point in which there are no other options. “A couple of days ago I sold out of stock for the first time since opening the store. I’m finally turning profit after being barely able to keep the place afloat. I love my daily routine there. I can’t let her take this away from me, Spence.”

“And she won’t. But don’t you think the help will be good? With new stock coming in and the reading events you wanted to prepare, having a trusty helper will save you some stress. And we’ll have Penelope run a check on every candidate!”

“I don’t know… is it fair for me to get someone involved in… this?” He instantly knows what you mean. “Can I think about it?” 

“Of course you can. I understanding this was not in your plans, and I know you love your job and your routine and we’ll make a new one for you! We’ll create a schedule and we’ll alternate days so that you don’t have a predictable location and-and we can make it a fun thing, you know? Creating the week’s schedule, like the Sunday crossword! We could do the schedule on Saturdays and the crossword on Sundays– what do you think?”

You think this is a plan. A future plan. A future plan that is reliant on the fact of you still living in his apartment and part of you hates it, because part of you, a big part of you, wants to go home and stop feeling like such a burden to him. But then there is the smaller part of you; the part that likes waking up and hearing his hoarse voice first thing in the morning; the part of you that feels spoiled with the breakfasts in the couch; the part of you that hasn’t really been loved in a while and really missed it. That is the same part of you that swoons every time he smiles at you, and you nod, and nod, and nod. “That sounds perfect,” You whisper, looking around the living room and seeing this future he talks so much about. It truly does sound… “Perfect.”

That afternoon, he helps you write a job ad for a store manager. It’s fun doing this with him because you get a chance to pick that brain that always amazes you so much. “No, no, you should give them a feel for the store,” The way his breathing hits the nape of your neck with every word he says while reading over your shoulder makes you shiver. “Oh? Are you cold?” What you miss is the the little smile he gives you from behind, turning to quickly grab the blanket you left on the armchair to cover your shoulders.

“But I don’t want them too comfortable, it’s still my store,” You grumble, leaning back without even thinking about it. You are both by the kitchen counter, and you’re sitting on a stool with Spencer right behind you, so when you fall back, arms curling around your body and wrapping the blanket tighter around you, you fall right onto his chest. The shattered pieces of that wall you two had between you two lay on your feet, no completely gone but simply lowered; the jitters of having him so close, the anxiety of maybe having him pull away, the strong beat of his heart right on your back. It’s all there, and it all amplifies when his arms wrap around your waist. It’s too careful, the way he holds you; too light and gentle and oh so slow. You just want him to hug you like he did before, to show you more of that hidden strength he kept suppressed all the time. Spencer is not dominant by any mean, but he isn’t someone to be walked all over, either, and the more that Cat pushes you, the more you are starting to see him push back. 

And you love when Spencer push back. 

“Okay, focus!” His voice snaps you back to reality, so close to your ear and his chin digging on your shoulder. It’s cute how he likes to fit his face in the little nook of your neck, between your cheeks and shoulders, and it’s… oddly intimate. The kind of intimate that makes you tense up a little just at the thought. “Hey… I know this is a big step for the store, but I’m proud of you. It’ll be great to be able to share the responsibility of the place with someone else. A team is not so bad, Y/N.”

If he is any indication of what is like to have a partner, if having Spencer by your side and ready to back you up is a little taster of what being on a team is like, then he might just be right. “I know, I just… this is my baby, you know? I moved to Washington with a backpack and an email from the agent to lease the place and there is a lot of effort and emotional energy and money that went into this!”

“You moved to Washington with just a backpack?”

Curiosity is a natural response for a man like Spencer. He is curious about virtually everything and anything, and it makes your heart beat faster, every time, when he asks something to you. It feels like a sign of trust, that he is willing to actually learn from you, to listen to you, and to store all you say into his hungry brain. This time, however, when your heart speeds up, it doesn’t have those same palpitation of adoration, those same butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Instead, it feels like there’s a rock, heavy and cold and hard, being thrown around your gut, all sharp edges and precise hits. “I, uh,” Immediately, you want to move– you want to push your hair back or scratch the mysterious itch on your nape or rub the tension off of your forehead– but then you remember that he is an avid reader. And that, apparently, you are his new favourite book. 

You try to play it cool, hand coming back down to the laptop’s keyboard to type out some basic information on the store and the schedule. “Yeah, it was a weird time,” And that’s all you say on the subject, even if the way he squints, those molten brown eyes running over every inch of you that you’re sure he has committed to memory, tell you that he has gotten much more information than you were willing to give. “Okay, I think it’s ready?” 

He knows what you’re doing, but he doesn’t care. Uncomfortableness is written all over you, from how your shoulders hunch forward to how you stick your hands between your thighs to stop them from fidgeting. Spencer is very careful of your self-awareness. He has seen you shut down before and he knows the telling signs– you pull away, withdraw back and back and back, until you disappear in the background of your anxieties. The last thing he wants is for you to not speak to him again, arms squeezing you a bit close in fear that you might just get up and leave him behind again. Having you sit on the armchair, so close yet so far while he slept in the couch next to you, had been hard. Incredibly hard. And Spencer isn’t sure he can handle that again.

So he lets it go. 

He hums, and nods, and lets you think you’ve fooled him. He lets you think that you’ve successfully whisked his attention away from the topic he wants to chat through and dissect so badly. “Looks great,” It’s cute how fast he reads the ad, and before you can overthink about it, he clicks ‘send.’ “Spence! Oh my god!”

“You weren’t going to do it,” He laughs, shaking his head and turning the stool so that you two are face to face. “I’m sorry you have to do this.”

“It’s okay,” You whisper, breath hitching on your throat with just how intensely he’s looking at you. There is tension between you two, strong and growing, and it’s not the first time you’ve noticed it. 

Sometimes, you think that this weird connection dates back to the first few months you knew each other. At first, it was about stupid things like what authors were truly considered cult or what were the best tropes. Banter, with Spencer, was always fun, like a little debate filled with smiles and giggles and… privacy, almost. Intimacy. It’s like every time you two talk a bubble forms around you, and no one can steal his attention. He is present, at all times, and it makes you feel like you matter; it makes you want to be present, too, happily listening to his rants and lecture with attentive eyes. Sometimes, you even pulled out a little notebook after he was gone to work, noting down the facts you’ve managed to remember, and whenever you were a bit bored, you would pull your notes out and read them over, smiling at the memories of him. The memories of him that are now locked in the drawer behind your counter. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“I need to go get some stuff from the store,” You mumble, looking up at him with begging eyes. “I know you said to keep out, but please, Spence, I need more clothes and I need my things.” 

It doesn’t take much convincing to have him ready to go, and you are almost giddy at the sight of Spencer in jeans. Everyone can, or at least they should, see beyond the slacks and the sweater vests. Underneath it all, you know there is a man who needs some tender loving– you know there are scars, maybe visible, maybe not, but it doesn’t matter. Without his tie and his button ups, Spencer is just like any other guy, and the walls come down. Right now, he is Spence, your favourite customer and the guy that makes your heart beat faster, and you kind of love that you get to leave Agent Reid behind for a day or two. 

“Let’s go, Spence!” You call, excited to get out of the house for a bit. The fresh air coming in from the open window teases you enough to have you stomping, shouting for him again. “Spencer!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” His laughter echoes in the apartment and you smiled when you see him grabbing his phone and keys. 

This is too good to be true. It has now been eight days since the initial package you received in Spencer’s name, and as much as you know his intentions are good, you do wonder if maybe he is going a little overboard out of guilt. “I’m so excited to go to the store with you again!” You shriek, going down the stairs with him in tow. You’re not really looking where you’re going, constantly turning back to look at him just to catch a glimpse of that adorable smile he tries to hold back. 

“Y/N, watch out–“ In all fairness, Spencer tries to reach for you and hold you back, but the moment your feet touch the ground floor, your body hits another with such impulse that you sway back into Spencer’s hands. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes, yeah, I’m–“ Turning to the person, a young woman with an expression of as much shock as yours, you immediately start to apologise. “I’m so sorry! Oh god, I’m so sorry, I–“ “Don’t worry at all,” She smiles and picks up her boxes again. “I couldn’t see because of the boxes, it’s my fault.”

“Are you moving in?” 

You know that tone of voice. It’s stored in your brain as the tone of voice you never wanted to hear again, after hours of it back at the BAU office. “Hey, come on,” You whisper, allowing him lightly. 

“Yes! I’m moving into apartment 13. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Abigail. Do you guys live in the building?”

“Oh, I uh, I’m just–“

The way he slips his hand in yours, fingers folding with yours. “Yeah, we live upstairs,” He says vaguely, slowly continuing to walk own the hall. “We’re a bit late, but it was great meeting you Abigail. See you around.” 

You barely have time to wave before he has you out in the street, phone out and ready to go. “Sorry, I just need to call Garcia for a second. Go ahead, yeah? I’m right behind you, I promise.” 

Under his watchful eyes, you take the lead in making your way to the bookstore. The sound of his shoes crackling in the sidewalk behind you is comforting. “I’m going in, just call out for me when you’re ready, okay?” 

As soon as you get inside, it’s like you’re home. The books are everywhere, and you feel their warm embrace as they whisper stories in your ears. You’re like a hurricane in there, moving around with such trained expertise that no one could ever contest that you belong there, in your sacred place. Your backpack is by the counter, slowly filling up with books you want to take with you, and you enjoy the fact that Spencer is busy to check your emails for online orders and stock. So far, no big losses have taken place and you’ve only been closed for a couple of days, but you are realistic about the future of this place and you know this cannot continue. The more you see the store suffering from all of this, the more you agree that having someone mind the place while you’re out might be a good idea. Hesitancy still swirls in your heart, but you’ll do anything to avoid the heartbreak of losing your bookshop. 

You don’t turn around when the bell rings. “Spence, I might need a couple more minutes–“

“We got to go. I’m sorry Y/N, we need to go, grab whatever you can.”

A sharp exhale escapes you like a knife just wedged itself in your lungs. “What’s going on?” 

“Officer Kaper just called for backup,” Everything is fast again, moving forward, forward, forward, and Spencer knows how overwhelming this must be, specially after the slow and soft morning you two had, but he is working on a one track mind. He needs to get you out of there. 

“Backup?” Cars honk while you two cross the street in a hurry. “Spencer, stop running, stop! What’s going on?!”

He doesn’t answer you until you’re both in his apartment, door locked and phone in hand, nervously squeezing it while he paced around. 

“Spence,” You call again, careful with how you approach him when he is trying so hard to keep control of himself. “Spence, I– What’s going on?” 

His eyes tell you everything. In those whiskey coloured pupils, you see the hurt and the pain, and you see the hesitation. One hand moves to push his hair back, frustration lacing every movement he makes, from walking to the couch and letting his body plop down to how his head hangs low. 

“He’s on his way to the hospital. His house got broken into and… we have no confirmation, but we think it’s–“

“Fucking Cat.”

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[silverskye13]

I am turning EB around in my head like a microwave and I have a couple questions:

What is EB and EX's relationship like? I know they view each other as family and EX gets EB's booth, but will we see how they interact more?

Did anyone wind up telling EB that hels!zedaph is dead? If not, does he have suspicions that he is?

and a more general Hels question (that is totally not related no siree) - what is the upkeep for the remembrance walls like?

EB and EX are on friendly terms! They previously saw each other,,, not as rivals in the traditional sense. They didn't openly attack or oppose each other. But EB viewed EX as a challenge: How do I stay distinct from my brother's shadow? Anyone looking for it would find it obvious. EB got Bigger and Louder whenever EX was around, and he used to be much bigger and much louder than he currently is. It's less that he was mean, and more that he was prideful. Becoming friends with Helsknight changed him for the better in that regard. Since he's mellowed out, he and his brother have become closer. They enjoy visiting with each other during Colosseum matches [EB will often stand with EX in the box and talk both before the events, and during intermission] and EX invites EB to a lot of parties, where they shit talk the guests together. We'll see them together once during RnS, but EB is a secondary character, and outside of the one appearance, I don't intend to have EX very involved in the story. He's kind of the unspoken god of the world: he gets a lot of mentions because he's very important to hels, but he's not very important to the plot lol.

Someone did wind up telling EB about hels!zedaph, though yes, he did suspect before he was told. EB hadn't gone looking for HZ for a reason. He didn't want to be the one to find out he was gone. If I can't see it, maybe its not really there.

And the Remembrance Wall Ramble got long so its under the cut!

[Hello future me cutting in here because I just realized you were probably talking about what individuals like EB would do to upkeep a name of a loved one. Mostly it involves regular visits. Keeping the stone clean, replacing it if it gets cracked, making sure it doesn't wear down. Nether bricks to me are a bit brittle, and the ones on the bottoms of the walls will crumble and break down over time. Most of the time, the Order of Remembrance is pretty good at getting them replaced, though they encourage individuals to do it themselves, to decorate the stones, paint or carve them, and overall keep the care personal. People will also sometimes leave gifts of food, flowers, and favored items at walls where loved ones names are kept. Walls are very colorful spots in hels, full of a lot of care.]

The Remembrance walls are, basically, graveyards. Alongside friends and family, who will make sure loved ones names are put down and remembered, the Order of Remembrance manages all Remembrance Walls in the city. We'll get into it a little in the upcoming chapters, but the Order of Remembrance church, and its knights, have a very active presence in hels. They are the cloaks seen most often roaming the streets, in twos and threes. They have regular routes they walk, with walls they are assigned to tend. They make sure the stones are stacked straight and don't fall, replace broken ones, and help people carve names. Many knights have prayer chants where they intentionally try to memorize every name on the wall. Their focus is on the idea that no helsmet is truly gone as long as some memory remains of them. They welcome helsmets approaching them with fond memories of loved ones, and will take testimony from people who know their time is coming. Their church is a glorified library and house of memorization. Part of their worship in remembrance of people is also in the remembrance of history, and they have at least one copy of every book, memoir, and journal in hels they can get their hands on. They have one private collection in the church, and one public library in hels, which they regularly update with copies of originals from the church library.

The only place outside the Order of Remembrance's domain is the shady side of town where Cleo's gangs keep the peace. For control reasons, Cleo doesn't like any opposing force on her claimed land, which includes Order of Remembrance knights. She does still have Remembrance Walls on her side of town, but they are up-kept by the people that live there as a community project. People get together once every few weeks, make food, talk about those that are gone, and make sure none of the stones are broken or stolen.

Erasing memory is a big taboo in hels, understandably. The universe is already cruel enough in taking people, and people, once taken, are woefully easy to forget [they were never meant to exist in the first place, after all]. On the sides of town where the Order of Remembrance upkeeps the walls, anyone caught stealing or destroying stones is tracked down by their paladins, and subjected to community service under close supervision. They're often roughed up in the process, but the paladins won't kill you for breaking a stone. Depending on whose stone you break, and how angry hels is that day, the same can't be said for anyone else who catches you. Repeat offenders, or people who destroy many stones at once with the express intent of erasing memory, are branded by the Order with a mark somewhere visible, normally on the hands. Anyone with that unlucky brand will see increased hostility from their peers, ostricization, lost of livelihood and home -- it's a great way to make everyone in hels hate you. Anyone on Cleo's side of town caught destroying a stone is hunted actively in the streets, and leaving her side of town will not save them. She offers high bounties for that kind of thing.

[eruherdiriel]

After ruin

Jonsa ficlet Rating: T Universe: Canon Other: Angst, Sansa POV

Also on AO3.

She watches him slide the knife from its sheath and test the sharpness of the blade against a callus on his left hand.

“Must you go?” Sansa asks. Jon is always going to war it seems, and this time he would march right into the dragon’s maw. “Daenerys has already killed kin to clear her path to the Iron Throne.”

Aegon Targaryen is dead, so proclaimed the letter that arrived not five days ago with news from the south. Dragon fire killed him, as it kills many in the Crownlands and the Reach these days. But his death occurred after a challenge, a mockery of a test Daenerys must have known her nephew would not pass. She offered him one of her dragons to ride and then commanded it to breathe fire on him, the letter said. When he burned, she said it proved he was a pretender and that her true nephew died nearly two decades ago in King’s Landing.

Sansa knows better. Targaryens are not immune to fire; she has felt the proof as she traced the ruined skin of Jon’s sword hand. And yet, she has also heard the stories of when they tried to burn his body after the mutiny at Castle Black. She still remembers how Satin would not meet her eyes when he spoke of it, out of both shame for allowing it to happen and for fear of how Jon rose amidst the flames.

“I am a soldier. The battlefield is where I belong,” Jon says. The blade sings as he slides it back into its covering. “This is how I serve the North.”

“And how you run from love,” she says softly. She had not meant to say the words aloud, and hearing them nearly stops her own heart. It is much too soon for such a sentiment, but once it is out, Sansa knows it is true. She loves him. 

Whatever he feels in return, it is enough for Jon to run from her, just as he runs from his parentage. If he is fighting, he doesn’t have to face either thing. He doesn’t have to think about his mother dying after she birthed him and living her final months hidden away in a tower in Dorne. He doesn’t have to explain why he lets Rickon fall asleep against one side of his body and Sansa fall asleep against the other when they tell her baby brother a bedtime story. He doesn’t have to explain why he stopped letting Sansa come to his bed when she has nightmares, but she knows it happened after the morning she woke to feel him pressed against her, his hand wound in her hair and his breath warm on her neck.

He doesn’t have to explain why, when she tended his wound after fighting the Others and began to cry at the damage to his body that showed how close she came to losing him again, Jon lifted her chin with one hand and told her not to weep. Told her that he survived. That he could survive anything if it meant coming home to her. And then he kissed her tears away, his lips pressed against one cheek and then another before finding the curve of her mouth.

Her words to him now make Jon still, his back toward her, and he stays silent for some time. Sansa holds her breath and waits. Jon is always making her wait.

Jon, and the gods. And because of that, she has learned to be patient, learned through waiting to escape King’s Landing, and then waiting to escape the Vale of Arryn, and still she waits for Bran and Arya to come home.

“I do,” he says, head cocked slightly in her direction but still not facing Sansa. “Love you. But my love would only ruin you.”

This time, her heart does stop; she would swear to it.

If only Jon had stopped speaking after saying, I do love you.

“Ruin? You know nothing of love if you think it would ruin me.”

Now Jon turns. “Sansa, I’m—”

“A bastard?” she snaps. “A Targaryen? A deserter from the Night’s Watch? How many times must I tell you I do not care about any of those things? I care about how you treat your friends. How you respect me and make me feel safe. I care about how you’re the only person left that I can talk to about Robb, even though it hurts. I care about how you do your duty as a soldier despite how I know you want nothing more than to find out if Bran and Arya are alive and to search for them.”

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.

But Sansa has more to say, so she continues before he can protest yet again. “When we find love in this world, we should cling to it. How much love does anyone know in their life? I once had a mother and father and siblings who loved me. And they are gone except for Rickon, swept off by war and violence, and that is ruin, Jon.”

His eyes soften, and finally he leaves his half-packed saddle bag and walks over to her. Then Jon takes her face in his hands, and for the heartbeat that he studies her, Sansa thinks he is going to give her what she wants—he will kiss her and say he is going to stay. But instead, Jon tilts her head down and presses his lips to her forehead, and the vision is dashed.

“This is all I can give you at present,” he whispers into her hairline. “My sword.”

Why, she wants to scream. Why can’t you stay with me?

But she knows why. The qualities that would keep Jon from her and drive her ire are the same ones that helped make her love him.

“And after?” she whispers.

Her head is tucked into his neck, but she can hear the frown Jon must wear when he speaks. “Let me deal with our enemies. Then we can talk about after.”

It is only half a promise, but she will take it, will hold it tight to her chest while she waits for the wars to finally be over.

[ddarker-dreams]

Be Still My Bleeding Heart.

Yan Zhongli x God Reader.

[The First Contract index]

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance o'clock. Word count: 2k.

“I’ve heard you’ve been frequenting the Stone Gate.”

Zhongli’s way of speaking is best compared to a geode. Seemingly insignificant upon initial viewing, but once cracked open, you’ll find yourself enthralled by the contents within. There’s so much to dissect and digest. You’ve become fluent in his language throughout the centuries. It wasn’t always a necessary skill. He matured with each passing millennia, his mannerisms aging like a fine wine, though they became no easier to swallow.

Gone were the days of him using brute force to tackle his way through every challenge waiting before him. He’s patient with enough cunning to match.

You almost miss how simple it once was to get a read on your husband. It requires a great deal more effort now, a resource you’d prefer to expend anywhere else than on him.

“I have,” you don’t see the point in lying. “Do you take issue with the fact?”

“That remains to be seen.”

You’d sigh, but even that feels like you’d be giving him too much. You keep your lips pursed to rectify this. He could be so obstinate about the most trivial details. That element of himself has remained consistent since time immemorial. All you wanted was to take a pleasant stroll through Yuehai Pavilion before returning to your usual activities, yet it seems that’s asking for too much.

Zhongli was waiting when you ascended the steps, his hands folded behind his back, warm amber eyes rivaling the sunset in its intensity. They softened for a mere instant, whatever non-issue you were inevitably about to get reprimanded over temporarily slipping his mind. Sickeningly sweet affection poured forth like vaults of honey, suffocating you in thick layers. You weighed the merits of turning around and venturing elsewhere, then remembered this fabled ‘elsewhere’ doesn’t exist.

He might be testing mortal life, but that doesn’t make Liyue any less of his domain than it was when the Yakshas were greater in number and the adepti gathered for banquets at the Guili Assembly. He could follow you anywhere, you can’t control that. You can, however, control how bad of a mood he’ll be in when he finds you.

Presently, Zhongli places an unwelcome hand on your shoulder, the gesture that was meant to comfort you worse than the spears chaining Osial down to an abyssal depth.

“I hope this isn’t a consequence of us living amongst the people of the Harbor.”

In the same way you are attuned to him, Zhongli is an uncontested expert in all things concerning you. His fervor is born from ardor whereas yours stems from a place of self-preservation. There is no side of you he hasn’t seen, no angle he hasn’t committed to memory with the zeal of a religious fanatic. His seemingly infinite reservoir of knowledge frightens you. There are times when you wonder if he knows you better than you know yourself.

This is further evidence of the possibility.

“… What do you mean by that?”

Zhongli raises an eyebrow. “My heart, please, don’t play dense. We both know you’re anything but. Something’s been troubling you ever since we’ve taken up residence here. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy adjustment, but if this is proving too detrimental for your wellbeing, I’ll have to take appropriate measures.”

You place your hands on the railing in front of you, leaning forward ever so slightly. The wind catches in your hair, carrying the familiar scent of the ocean and dinner being cooked by households awaiting the return of their loved ones. The day draws to a close. You hear laughter, the sound of children playing; two boys struggling to keep up with a little girl who goads them on. This lively scene cannot be found atop Mt. Hulao or any other secluded area you’d be held prisoner in if he thinks it best.

“You take on everyone’s burdens,” Zhongli disregards the view in favor of examining your side profile. You know which one he finds more picturesque. “I adore and fear that trait of yours. I knew there’d be no avoiding it, as it’s embedded in your nature, but I didn’t anticipate you getting this attached.”

“You’re exaggerating the severity of things.”

“Am I?” There’s a slight challenge in his voice you can’t bring yourself to match. “I heard you requested Xiao’s assistance in finding a little girl’s lost doll. An expedition that took multiple days of our Conqueror of Demons’ time.”

“Children are Liyue’s future — I’m doing my part to ensure their happiness.”

“Last week, I found you lecturing a gentleman who voiced dislike of Xinyan’s music. It took you an hour for you to notice my presence. Another hour to let him leave.”

“It was a civil discussion, not a lecture. I left room for him to interject if he had anything worthwhile to say. It isn’t my fault he became tongue-tied when his brutish behavior was confronted.”

“You recently asked me to reshape a mountain range so that Qiqi would have easier passage on her herb-collecting journeys.”

“Are you not the one who once promised me you’d ‘shift the sun’s placement in the sky’ if I ever found it unsatisfactory?”

Zhongli coughs into his gloved hand to hide his embarrassment. “I… was young then. My prose reflects that.”

“2,500 hardly qualifies as young, old man.”

“It does for beings like us. Now,” he seems eager to move on from the subject, “The examples I listed are the mildest. You’re spreading yourself thin, concerning yourself with matters beyond your control. I’ve seen what it did to you in the past. As your husband, I must ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

There’s something else at play here, yet you’ll leave that detail to be uncovered later.

“If I’m understanding this correctly, you’re criticizing me for caring about the people who you spent centuries shedding blood — yours and others — over.”

You don’t bother hiding the bitterness on your tongue. He’s worse than a thorn in your side, he’s a knife, jabbed in so deep that pulling it out is no longer an option. You have to live with the blade’s intrusion and adjust accordingly to the pain. It’s obvious to you that he’s been stewing on this for a while, the trips to the Stone Gate must’ve been the final nail in the coffin. You’ll both argue circles around each other until the heart of the issue is addressed.

The specifics of the contract you signed many, many years ago stipulate you may not leave Liyue’s borders unless a particular list of requirements is met. It isn’t like Zhongli is actively looking to punish you — he said so many times himself — which is why he becomes extra stifling when he thinks you’re pushing your limits. Or his limits, to be precise. The God of Contracts takes these matters very seriously.

Eventually finding you can’t take the silence any longer, you come right out and say it. “It’s true that I can get a bit too… involved when it comes to helping mortals. I see the solution right in front of me and wish those involved could see it too. That’s why I was seeking out a fellow god who is better at handling these situations with the appropriate nuance.”

His face gives away nothing when he speaks. The same cannot be said for the low timbre his voice takes on.

“And what god other than myself might my dearest spouse be seeking the audience of?”

“Barbatos,” you reply without hesitation. Something cold runs through the air between you. “He’s lived amongst mortals for so long. I might have some issues with his carefree temperament, but he knows how to guide others in that human form of his. Perhaps ‘guide’ isn’t the right word. He offers just enough for them to reach the solutions themselves. I want to learn from him.”

In a split second, his diamond-shaped pupils thin into slits, reminiscent of his draconic form. It’s gone in the time it takes you to blink. He sighs, his gaze finally breaking off from you. You feel his hand settle on the small of your back in what can only be described as a possessive gesture. Zhongli rarely touched you in public for the sake of social decency. This revelation must’ve been enough for him to discard the propriety he associates himself with in the current era.

You can tell he’s thinking and you let him. While he chews on the truth, your eyelashes flutter shut, blocking out the sensory stimuli you normally adore. Memories come and go like the ocean’s waves brushing up against the shoreline of your beloved Yaoguang Shoal. Had things gone differently, you’re confident you would’ve learned the lessons you’re currently seeking out on your own. The centuries you were forced to spend separated from mortals, incapable of answering their many desperate prayers, built an intimidating wall.

You’d either need to scale it or tear it down in its entirety — you’re not going to let your husband add to its height.

“He’s a whimsical spirit, so our paths never managed to cross,” you look up at the stony countenance of Zhongli, who weighs your every word on an internal scale. Judgment could be in your future dependingly. “I’ll stop making my trips there. You have my word.”

“You can continue to do so as long as I am present,” his earrings catch the dimming sunray’s when he turns his head in your direction. “I’m not the unreasonable man you try to make me out to be, [First]. Let this be proof of that.”

No, he’s probably worse. Hiding his domineering tendencies beneath a thin veneer of amicability. You keep the thought to yourself. You’ve already pushed him far today by admitting what you did. Limits were meant to be teased, not breached. No one knows this like you do.

“I accept the terms of this contract.”

Seemingly content with this, he nods, his hand detaching from you while he does so. The vortex of tension surrounding you dissipates in an instant. You could relax your posture, but you don’t, a frown working its way onto your face. Encountering Venti by chance really would’ve been ideal, even if it was a long shot. Understanding the hearts of others was one thing, granting them the same vision is another.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” Zhongli muses. It’s a tactic he loves utilizing. Giving vague statements or suggestions so you have no choice but to ask for him to elaborate. An intelligent tactic from a conniving god.

You take the bait, uncaring of how his hook will sink into your flesh.

“Hm?”

“Taking on everyone’s burdens,” he clarifies. “Whatever should I do with you?”

You make a face. He really could do anything he wanted to you — the gap in your divine power is that sizable. It’s by his mercy and self-proclaimed “love” alone that he puts up with your near-constant ambivalence. Not wanting to linger on this uncomfortable topic, you turn on your heels, preparing to descend the steps and return to Liyue Harbor’s heart. If you’re fortunate, maybe he’ll get distracted and start a conversation on architecture or preferably anything else.

This turned out to be a stroll you wish you didn’t take.

“Treat me to dinner, preferably. I made a balm for some burns Xiangling recently sustained. I’ll give it to her while we’re in the area.”

It doesn’t take much effort for him to catch up to you with those absurdly long legs of his.

“Ah. Well, it’s a date then.”

Zhongli observes with silent amusement how you scrunch your nose up yet don’t voice your dissent. You flutter around from person to person, inquiring after so and so’s health, or if a sibling safely made it to Inazuma, dutifully recording the knowledge for later use. Your husband knows how you dislike your association with The God of Love title the mortals mistakenly assigned to you many moons ago — still, he can’t help but find it fitting.

How could he not notice that you overflow with love for anyone who isn’t him?

[slytherinboysappreciation]

OMG OMG i see ur fic abt prof riddle w the mreader n im in loveeee god its so cute 😭😭💖💖💖 have you ever thought when the roles were reversed? Like reader is a wizard that came from the future, he adopt tom from the orphanage n becomes a father to him n he's also the one that stopped tom from kill1ng ppl n shi omgg that would so cute give this man sum parental figure yall he needed it 😔🫶🫶

Adopted - T. R. x platonic male!reader

A/N: thank you so much for the request!! 💛 I’m so glad you like my fic!

This is the first part of a short series I’m planning for this request. It’s completely unedited and barely proofread. There’s no use of Y/N

CW: alternate universe, death mention, lying, manipulation, Reader is from the future, Reader lies to adopt Tom, slight Dumbledore bashing, slight fluff during the middle/end, this is kinda fast-paced sorry

691 words

In another universe, Tom Riddle was introduced to magic by Professor Dumbledore, a cunning old man who saw the evil before he saw the boy.

In another universe, Tom Riddle becomes Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark Wizard since the old days.

In another universe, a couple dies for their baby, a boy too young to remember anything but his mother’s scream.

This is not that universe.

In this universe, Tom Riddle is introduced to magic by a very unconventional wizard. A man with no friends, odd mannerisms, and a habit of using strange spells.

You.

You appear in Tom’s life exactly half an hour before his fated meeting with Dumbledore.

You hurry up the steps to the orphanage and knock on the doors. They open to reveal a haggard woman with a sharp face. She questions you, and you lie as smoothly as still water.

A few moments later, you’re face to face with the boy.

Because that’s who he is, after all. An eleven year old boy with no friends, odd mannerisms, and a habit of talking to strange snakes.

He looks up at you, half scowling, half nervous. “Who are you?”

The lie rolls off your tongue with ease. “I’m your uncle.”

Tom waits till you get in the cab before asking questions.

“Are you really my uncle?” His expression clearly says he doesn’t believe it, but you can see the flicker of hope in his eyes.

“For all intents and purposes, yes.” You give him a slightly sympathetic look. “But no, I am not your kin.”

Tom wilts a bit. Then tries hard to hide it. “Oh. Okay.”

There’s a brief pause, then his forehead wrinkles. “Who are you, then?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” he challenges.

“I am a wizard,” you say calmly. “Sent back in time after an unfortunate mishap with a Time Turner artifact.”

Tom blinks. Stares. Tilts his head. “You’re… not lying… are you…?”

You give him an odd smile. You had to give it to him, the boy knew how to spot his lies.

“Of course I’m not lying. It’s far too ridiculous for me to have come up with something like that.”

You settle into your seat. “Besides, you’ll understand more once we reach my house.”

Tom, who still seems to be having a hard time digesting your earlier words, just nods quietly. You give him the silence of the car ride to figure his thoughts out. As a courtesy and all.

Tom seems to like your little house. It’s tucked away from the city, in a small village that’s used to your odd antics by now.

It’s quaint and cozy and just big enough for separate rooms for the two of you.

Tom surveys the house, then turns to you. “If you’re a wizard, I want to see your magic.”

You look down at him, amused. You can already tell he has a sharp mind, important for the days to come.

You pull out your wand and cast a simple spell. One that causes pretty blue butterflies to flit about the room.

Tom goes still, eyes wide. One of the butterflies flutters over to him and lands on his nose. He goes cross-eyed trying to look at it and you stifle a laugh.

“Is that proof enough?”

He waves the butterfly off, looking at you in awe. “You really are a wizard…”

You stifle a grin, trying not to seem too proud. “I am. And you are too.”

His eyes go wide. A slow flush creeps up his cheeks, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“I knew it,” he breathes, “I always knew I was special. Everyone else called me crazy, but I knew.”

You pat his shoulder and smile down at him. “You are special. You’re a wizard, Tom.”

His answering grin is worth all the problems you know are coming.

Dumbledore, especially, will be furious once he finds out.

But you’ve done what you’ve done, and you’re prepared to face the consequences. As far as the wizarding world will be concerned, you really are Tom’s uncle.

And you’re going to keep it that way.

[hubristicassholefight]

Swordswoman Showdown Semifinals

Hornet (Hollow Knight) vs Brienne of Tarth (A Song Of Ice and Fire)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Hornet

Technically its not a sword but she wields a needle in a setting where swords do not exist and she wields it in an exceedingly swordlike fashion so. She counts; Girlboss demigoddess spider lady. She's been protecting an entire kingdom for longer than many of the other characters have been alive. She systematically kills her siblings for being too weak. She's simply the best.

#im pretty sure hornet can beat like. anyone in a fight.#have you ever fought hornet#its so fucking hard getting past her every time i play hk i go literally insane.

#i remember getting stuck on the first hornet fight on mt first play through and bring likr#''omg the boss fights in this are so hard!!!''#like what. you're not even half way through what are you talking about#you can't even DASH honey. you don't know what's diffcult or not in this game.

So, SPOILERS

but I feel like the "she systematically kills her siblings" part needs a little clarification. See, one of her siblings was used as a living prison for an angry god and that uh. Didn't work out for the sibling in question or anyone else.

This account is itself heavily abbreviated but it's likely that any other sibling Hornet encounters will be trying to take over as the god's new prison. She appears to challenge any sibling she sees to battle, in order to test their resolve against herself and her needle - would they actually have a chance against that god?

We never actually see her kill any siblings, but she does quite pointedly tell one of them that (to paraphrase) "My needle is lethal and I would feel no sadness in a weakling's demise."

Feels like a relevant quote. In any case, if they can't beat Hornet, it seems like her needle would be a far more merciful end than what the god would grant.

Anyway, a bit of additional material for @swordswomanshowdown :

As is the case for any cool swordswoman, it's not just her sword that's lethal, it's her with it. And Hornet's needle was custom made for her - the creators have said that, while other needles exist, hers was made specifically for her to wield, and its construction allows her to use her spider silk better in combat.

And another thing that I think makes her a good swordswoman: she's actually pretty thoughtful about how she uses it. There's a least one instance where she tries to warn someone off before fighting them! At the same time, when she does fight, she seems to enjoy it - during her boss battles, you can hear her laugh sometimes, as if exhiliarated. She's really got it all, as a swordswoman!!!

#HORNET SWEEP CMON PLEEEEEEASE#shes gay. shes the only sibling with a gender. shes a spider named HORNET. look like croissant. whats not to like

Brienne

Brienne

gets gifted a sword made with the rarest metal ever because she’s THAT good; she’s simply the best

Brienne is one of the top sword users alive in her day. She's descended from a man who's catchphrase was "I'm better with a sword." Better than what? You. Jaime Lannister. Loras Tyrell. Any five given guys at once. She has a fantastic sword that might be magic or cursed and is named Oathkeeper because that's what she does; I love her

Beat like 20 guys in a tournament when she was 19. Was given a magic sword. Won a sword fight against the premier swordsman in the realm. Very swordly; Very tall and strong. Holds her sword in high esteem. Accomplished with other weapons as well!

She's defeated multiple of the top knights in the series in duels. One such knight gifts her the fabergé egg of swords and she uses it to defend orphans and stuff. Got out of a bad betrothal by dueling him and beating his ass so bad she broke multiple bones. Honestly there's so much more she is the swordswoman of all time. to me; She's buff and ugly and 6' 5" and so honorable and kind that she inspires the guy who fucks his sister to yknow. stop doing that. literally gets mauled for the sake of protecting a bunch of orphans (with her sword). also she's 20 she should be at the club ‼️

One of the best sword wielders in Westeros, the author says he would pick her to defend him. Has a cool sword called Oathkeeper. Manages to go up against 7 fighters and take out most of them,. The only true knight; First off, talking about book brienne, they massacred show brienne, the show runners simply didn’t understand what she’s about.“ She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice” brienne had plenty of choice but she couldn’t leave people to die. The chivalric paradigm is rotten and corrupted, but here is Brienne, the one true knight, who isn’t even a actual knight! “knights are for killing”, but here is a knight who risks her life again and again to protect innocents! Bri IS hope, she is the light in the dark that shows that things can be better, things must be better. Fundamentally an idealist: “Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining”

#BRIENNE WON A MELEE WHEN SHE WAS 19 !!!!!#DONT LET HER LOSE

#MORE LOVE FOR BRIENNE#SHE FOUGHT A DAMN BEAR WITH A WOODEN SWORD#SHE AVENGED A MAN UNJUSTLY MAIMED#SHE PROTECTED CHILDREN AGAINST SEVEN MEN#NO CHANCE AND NO CHOICE

I'm going to put some propaganda for Brienne, because she deserves the world.

Some people have been quoting the "no chance, no choice" in the tags, but for those that don't know it comes from this scene:

...she could hear the faint clink of swords and mail from beneath their ragged cloaks. She counted them as they came. Two, four, six, seven. (...) Brienne sucked in her breath and drew Oathkeeper. Too many, she thought, with a start of fear, they are too many.(...) Brienne tried to keep the fear from her voice, but her mouth was dry as dust. The children, she thought. The door to the inn banged open. Willow stepped out into the rain, a crossbow in her hands. The girl was shouting at the riders, but a clap of thunder rolled across the yard, drowning out her words. As it faded, Brienne heard the man in the Hound’s helm say, “Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them.” The fury in the man’s voice drove Willow back a step, trembling. Seven, Brienne thought again, despairing. She had no chance against seven, she knew. No chance, and no choice. She stepped out into the rain, Oathkeeper in hand. “Leave her be. If you want to rape someone, try me.”

This is basically one of the most badass and awesome moments of the series... because here, Brienne is not guarding a King, vanquishing a great Evil Lord, or fighting a big glorious battle... this is an inn full of orphans being attacked by raiders, children whose lives really don't matter in the great scheme of things. If they were all to be killed, nobody powerful would really care, no history book would write their names.

The logical thing is to run away from there as fast as she could. And yet, Brienne decides to enter an unwinnable nightmarish battle (one where she gets her arm broken and her face eaten) because is the right thing to do. She is a true knight.

Because, in the dark pseudo-medieval world of Westeros, where the patriarchal martial system reigns supreme, there is no space for someone like Brienne, she herself said it best:

"You have a noble father who must surely love you. (...) I know he would tell you that he would sooner have a living daughter than a shattered shield." "A daughter." Brienne's eyes filled with tears. "He deserves that. A daughter who could sing to him and grace his hall and bear him grandsons. He deserves a son too, a strong and gallant son to bring honor to his name. (...) I am the only child the gods let him keep. The freakish one, not fit to be a son or daughter."

And yet, despite being on the fringe of this society that doesn't accept nonconforming gender expression, despite not being able to be named knight, Brienne is still the embodiment of the ideal of knighthood. She is a true hero, who over and over decides to defend the innocents and do the right thing.

So yeah, my conclusion here is... I think she and kiku should kiss <3

[divine-knight-hand]

Worshiping the Masterpiece

Loki Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Summary: Loki’s lover finally gains the courage to ask him about his Jotun form. When he lets her see it, she takes the moment as an opportunity to help him do a little confidence building… by kissing… and touching… and praising…

Content Warnings: Sub!Loki (but hints of him being a switch), Soft Dom!Reader, themes of insecurity, [heavy appreciation of] Loki in his Jotun form, handjob in front of a mirror, lots of praise, no oral (but just a little taste of cum!), and explicit consent

Notes: (Prepare for lengthy notes with mushy sentiments! Hehehe!)

Happy birthday, @sarahscribbles!!! I’m still pretty new-ish to this whole tumblr-fanfic-writer thing, and I ended up gravitating to her as one of the blogs I look up to the most (specifically in terms of Loki content). So, happy, happy, happy birthday, Sarah! Remember that your community loves you very much. May you get lots of presents, cake, and Loki love~

This piece was written as a contribution to her Birthday Celebration. I originally started writing using some of the prompts from the original post, but I soon lost motivation, only to remember that I had this idea on repeat in my mind sooooo long ago, and it resurfaced just in time for me to finally put it to paper. So, I didn’t end up using any of the prompts, after all. Maybe someday I’ll finish what I originally started for this challenge and post it anyways. Maybe…

All in all, it was kind of refreshing to be able to write a fic about Loki. I don't really write about him as much as I would like to, so this writing event gave me the perfect motivation to just jump right in. So, without further ado, here we go!

Word Count: 3,547

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Absolutely not.” Loki’s eyebrows furrowed at my daring request. “I refuse to burden you with that monstrous visage.”

Loki’s response to me asking to view his Jotun form again was that of pure terror. He sat next to me on our shared bed, eyes frantically avoiding mine. He seemed a lot more timid than his usual confident disposition allowed. His hands were folded over his lap, fidgeting out of obvious discomfort at the idea of me seeing him resemble a frost giant.

The first time I saw Loki in his Jotun form, it was an accident. He was taking me on a tour of the castle vault, and all was well until I was left to my own devices. I wandered around the vault, admiring the architecture, as well as the artifacts, when I found myself walking backwards into the stand that held the Casket of Ancient Winters atop it. Loki happened to be in perfect range to step in and catch it as I knocked it off its pedestal, at the cost of revealing his birth form.

Amidst the chaos his panic created, he didn’t notice me watching the way his skin changed, or admiring the raised marks that accompanied its cerulean hue. I knew Loki was born on Jotunheim–and I knew of all the trials and tribulations this fact created throughout his childhood–but I’d never even heard Loki so much as mention the possibility of having another form connected to his Jotun roots. This was new to me. He replaced the Casket and rushed out of the vault before I could even form the words to tell him how beautiful he looked. How odd…

Since that day, I was determined to see him change again. It was like an obsession to me, the way it was constantly on my mind. I had to see Loki’s Jotun form again. I just had to. Now that I’d seen it once, I knew there was a part of him that I wasn’t experiencing all this time. I felt that I was missing out on sharing something important with my lover, and that didn’t sit well with me.

There were times I tried to hint at it subtly, only to get confused and alarmed looks from him in return. I should have expected him to catch on. Nothing flies over the head of the God of Mischief. There wasn’t any point to beating around the bush anymore. I decided to finally outright ask him to change forms, and this was the exact reaction I feared.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” I asserted. “Nothing about you is monstrous. Nothing. Do you honestly think that I could love a monster?” Before he even had the chance to sarcastically respond to my rhetorical question, I beat him to it. “No, because I don’t.” I reached over and grabbed his hands in mine. “I love you, and I want to experience every part of you. Every single one. Because, I want to be able to love every single part of you.”

I could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he began to consider the idea. “I don’t believe you understand the true nature of my birth form.”

“Then show me.” I insisted. “Teach me everything I don’t know about you. Please… I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide from me.”

“You will regret this, love.” With a defeated sigh, Loki conceded.

He made sure to remove my hands from his before the familiar green flash of his seidr marked his transformation. My breath hitched at the sight of all the changes to his appearance.

His skin turned an icy blue, and his face sported markings in the form of raised lines. His eyes, formerly a similar blue, now watched me intently with a ruby red, awaiting my response.

“Loki,” I breathed, my heart swelling with the joy of finally being able to see him like this again. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

He quickly looked away, ashamed. “As sweet as your lies sing to me, please don’t.”

“I would never lie to you.” I leaned in and slowly reached out my hand.

He flinched at first, but allowed me to cup his face, the chill of his skin cooling my hand. “How do you not hate this?”

“I’ve said, already,” I smirked at him. “I love you, and if this is you—which I know it is—then I love this, too.”

“But, I’m a monster…” Loki’s eyes began to glass over with tears, but none dared to spill over his cheeks.

“No, you’re not.” I leaned in until I could feel the chill radiating off of his face against my own. “You were only told that for far too long.”

“It’s all I’ve ever known.” He sadly confessed.

My heart shattered for him. It wasn’t fair that he had to face horrible treatment just because of where he came from. Growing up, he was constantly dehumanized by his own father. Politics didn’t exactly allow Asgardians to empathize with Jotuns. Loki didn’t have a clue as to why he was treated so poorly his whole life until his adult years. No wonder he hid himself for so long. He didn’t deserve to live like that. Not at all. I was determined to make sure he would never experience that kind of pain again.

“That’s awful.” I frowned. “I promise you that I’ll make you feel loved, no matter what you look like.” I leaned in and pecked the tip of his nose. “I guarantee it.”

I brought my other hand up to cup the other side of his face before pulling him into a kiss. I felt him tense up for a moment, but a sudden chill on my back accompanied the motion of him wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer to him.

When he deepened the kiss, it was colder than I expected it to be. Every point of contact I had with him sent a chill into my body, but I wasn’t cold. It was a comfortable chill. It was authentically Loki, and I wanted to explore this as far as I could go.

He pulled me onto him in a straddling position, our bodies crashing together as my hands wandered along the leather covering his back. I wanted to feel all of him. Since he swapped forms, it was like I fell in love all over again, and I was once again kissing him for the first time.

I was ravenous, wanting to touch as much of Loki as I could get my hands on, but I was also careful, fearing what could make him uncomfortable. My worries were put to rest when I felt a light twitch underneath me, and my own ache to have him began to build within me.

As we pulled apart, I left my hands cupped around his face, slowly tracing his markings with my thumbs. He’s just so beautiful~

“My desire for you could drive me to madness, darling.” He breathed, a smile ghosting his lips. “I do hope you’re aware.”

“I am.” I softly giggled.

“That being said, I have to have you, my dear.” His voice deepened to a growl. “Just give me a moment to return to my usual appearance.”

“Wait!” I interjected. “Why can’t I take you like this?”

“Are you off your rocker?!” Loki fired back, terror creeping back into his eyes.

“Maybe I am,” I retorted, “But I know that I want you like this, and you can’t change my mind on that.”

He just stared at me in utter shock, unmoving and unspeaking.

As the silence hung between us, an idea slowly crept into my mind. “There’s actually something I’d like to try, if you don’t mind.”

Loki let out a deep sigh, the shock in his expression lessening.“If you’re absolutely sure you want this, then I’ll be at your mercy. But, the moment something happens to you-”

“It won’t.” I cut in. “Because I know you won’t let anything happen to me.”

Loki frowned in disbelief, muttering, “Your optimism is dangerous.”

I stood up off of the bed, beckoning for him to follow me. “First, I want to see all of you. Would you mind stripping?”

“As you wish.” Loki lowered his head, his seidr removing his clothes with a flash.

I let out a soft gasp out of awe at the view. The icy hue continued from his head to his toes, as did the raised markings in his skin. They decorated his shoulders, chest, legs, and even his-

I felt arousal begin to pool between my thighs at the sight of his ornate length. “Loki…”

He looked back up at me, clearly anxious for my response. “Is this what you wanted?”

I quickly approached him and cupped his face in my hands, kissing him again. “It’s everything and more.” Loki’s cheeks blushed a light purple as I took him by the hand and led him across the bedroom to stand in front of a full-length mirror. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you with everything I have, just as I’ve always done.” He responded, and I just knew he was being genuine. I could almost feel it emanating from his words.

“Kneel, my love.” I softly commanded.

Loki knelt in front me, exactly where I placed him. I smiled warmly down at him, stroking his cheek before moving to sit right behind him, looking over his shoulder at the mirror.

I looked over his reflection, my eyes lingering at how he instinctively spread his thighs as he sat on his heels, allowing his semi-erect cock to hang in the middle of the sinful display. He was almost ready, and fully accessible to me. I felt my ache for him thrumming between my thighs, but I quickly refocused on my mission when I noticed that he refused to meet his reflection’s gaze, instead looking away from me and the mirror entirely.

“Look, Loki.” I lightly coaxed his face back towards the mirror by his chin. “Look at how beautiful you really are.” I dropped my other hand near his inner thigh. “May I?”

“Please,” I could see eagerness flash in his eyes as he glanced at my reflection before looking back at his own.

I began to lightly rub along his thigh, my heart fluttering at his resulting shiver. “I want you to see how perfect you are as you’re overcome with pleasure.” His eyes fluttered closed as he shivered again, and I paused my motions. “Watch.” I reminded him.

His eyes flew open at my command. “Yes, of course.”

“Yes, what?” I felt a proud smirk tugging at the corners of my lips.

“Yes, mistress.” He corrected himself.

“There’s my sweet prince.” I sighed my praise as I resumed my motion on his thigh, noticing the twitch of his cock at my words. I began kissing him messily along his neck as my hand continued to tease him. When I brought my free hand up to trace the marks on his chest, I noticed the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away.

“M- Mistress, please…” He let out a low moan. “Please, I need more…” A bead of precum gathered at the tip of his fully grown erection, which now began to shine with a deep blush of purple, similar to that of his cheeks.

I moved from his neck to whisper in his ear, “If you want it, then you’ll have it.” I stroked his face with my free hand. “A work of art like you deserves to be worshiped and praised.” I lightly nipped his ear. “And I’ve been blessed with the privilege to make sure that you are. Now, sit tight, my prince.”

I rose to my feet and moved, swift as the wind, to our dresser for lubricant to cover my hand with before returning to my original place with Loki in front of the mirror. “Tonight, I plan on fucking you with my hand, leaving your whole body on display for the both of us. I want you to see that you are no monster. You’re a masterpiece, and deserve to be treated as such.” I gave his shoulder a light squeeze with my free hand. “If you wish to stop at any time, you can always use our safe word. You remember it, don’t you?”

“I do.” His words were just above a whisper.

“Very good.” I kissed him on the cheek. “Then let’s begin.” I started to slowly stroke his cock with my lubricated hand, earning another shudder, accompanied by a contented sigh, from him. “I just have one rule for you…” Loki turned his head to look at me with curiosity before I softly turned it back to the mirror with my free hand. “You have to watch the whole time.”

“Ah- Mmm…” He let out a clipped moan before responding. “Yes, mistress.”

“Very good.” I slowly stroked all the way from the base of his cock to the tip before swirling my thumb in small circles on the head and stroking back to the base. Each time I teased the head, a small growl emanated from the back of his throat, only to crescendo into another moan when I stroked back down to the base.

I felt each of his markings against my hand with every stroke, and I wondered for a moment how they would feel against my inner walls. I felt arousal thrumming between my thighs again. Focus, damnit!

But, focusing was difficult. No matter how I looked at Loki, my eyes always returned to his elaborately decorated cock. It was as if I walked into an opulent dining room, only to end up staring at the shiny centerpiece all throughout dinner. It was the center of attention in an already artistic scene. I struggled to find the perfect words to convey these thoughts, so I kept my praise simple.

“You have such a pretty cock~” My words were a sultry whisper against his skin, accompanied by the kisses that I peppered along his jaw. “I can’t wait to pleasure it in every way I know how. Would you like that, my prince?”

“Y- Mmm… Yes, mistress.” Loki struggled to respond between moans.

“I would like that, too.” I peeked up at the mirror to make sure that he was still looking. He was. How obedient~

Not only was I filled with the pride of seeing him willing to do as he was told, but I also noticed the way his chest moved with each heavy breath he took, which it typically did when I dominated him. His breathing would grow labored as I teased him before he finally found the words—or word fragments—to beg me for more.

His hair also didn’t change. It tumbled down his angular face in its usual raven locks, the smallest of curls lying slick against his forehead as a sheen of sweat glued them there.

And just under it were his eyes. Though they shone a bright red, his pupils were blown wide with lust, leaving a sliver of red around the edges. Save for their usual blue color, his eyes looked exactly the same as they usually did. It was comforting to see that even though he changed, there were familiar parts of him to remind me that he was still my Loki.

Although, change is nice~ I thought as I allowed my free hand to roam his chest again, tracing the markings until I approached his hips. I reached down and began to fondle his balls, still keeping pace on his cock with my lubricated hand. His eyes were lidded as he quickly neared an ecstasy-born stupor. He used one of his hands to steady himself on the ground as the other wound into his hair, ruffling it with each pass he made with his fingers.

“Yes, I would love to please you.” I continued my earlier thought. “To worship you like the god you are. You deserve that. You deserve to have someone willing to offer you their service. Even as your mistress, I wish to satisfy you.” I sped up the pace of my hand on his cock, and a whimper escaped his throat. “You look so regal, my love. Do you see it? Do you see how, even as you sit bare in front of me, you still look elegant enough to sit upon the Asgardian throne?”

“N- no, mistress…” Loki’s voice cracked as he let out another moan.

“Hm. That’s unfortunate.” I mused. “Maybe someday I should suck you off as you’re seated upon it. I’m sure that would help you see what I see.”

Loki bucked his hips into my hand. “M- mistress…” His voice curled into a light sound that almost resembled a whimper. “Feels good… Feels so- Mmm… good…”

“It’s about time you felt something other than pain while showing this part of who you are.” I trailed kissed back up his neck to his ear before whispering, “You’re still watching?” I glanced at the mirror to see him still looking, just as I’d asked him to. “That’s my sweet prince. I’m so glad you’re heeding my directions tonight. This is all for you, after all.”

“Yes, mistress.” Loki gritted his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure before they shot back open as he remembered my command. “M- Mistress…?”

“Yes, my love?” I felt a small surge of concern rush through me. “Is something wrong?”

The soft whine he let out clued me in to what was happening before he even responded. “I- I’m close… Mmm- May I cum? …Please?” His last plea was no more than a breathy whisper. He needed this. Desperately. And who would I be to deprive him of it?

“Cum for me, my prince.” I purred. “You’ve been so good tonight. You deserve to. Come on, show me how your pretty cock looks when it’s dripping with cum.”

“Ohhh, mistress… Ah-” Loki practically screamed my name as his eyes rolled back, ropes of cum painting his thigh in a milky white.

I helped him ride out his high as his cock twitched in my hand, spilling his seed. Every time I thought he’d finished, he’d release what seemed to be another load with a roaring moan and a full-body shiver. I just kept stroking his cock while softly kissing along his neck and praising him until the last of it slowly dripped out over my fingers and he was left panting.

“That’s it, my prince.” I sighed against his neck. “You were so good for me. I’m so proud of you.” I finally let go of his cock and brought my hand to my mouth to slowly lick the cum off of my fingers. “Mmm, and you taste so good~”

“Mmm, darling,” Loki’s voice wavered as he took on a cautionary tone. “If you carry on like that, I just might grow hard again.”

“Then I’ll have no choice but to take care of you again.” I playfully walked my now clean fingers up his shoulder. “And again… and again… and again…”

“I like the sound of that.” He chuckled softly as our eyes moved back to the mirror in front of us.

I looked him over again, my eyes lingering over each part of him, almost as if my brain could take a snapshot his beauty. His hair was thoroughly ruffled, sweat shone on each curve of his skin, and his cock hung limply between his thighs once again, having spent its cum onto one of them. I watched as it began to slide down his thigh, following the raised markings before nearing the floor.

“You truly admire this, don’t you?” Loki’s question interrupted my thoughts.

“I do.” I answered without hesitation. “And I won’t be satisfied until you do, too.”

“You stubborn woman.” Loki lightly chuckled. “I will say, if this is the treatment my Jotun form entitles me to, then maybe it’s a sight I could get used to.”

I couldn’t keep back the cheesy grin my mouth curved into. “I’ll take it.” I crawled around him to sit between him and the mirror, holding my hands out to him.

He smirked and took my hands in his. “I feel compelled to thank you.”

I cocked my head in curiosity. “Hm? What for?”

He leaned closer to me, and I leaned in to meet him in the middle, electricity crackling in the air between us. “For loving the ugliest parts of me, and cherishing the things that I’ve only ever frowned upon.”

“Oh, Loki,” I squeezed his hand. “You take yourself too seriously. As soon as you stop criticizing yourself, I know you’ll lead a happier life.” I brought the same hand up to my lips to brush a soft kiss onto it. “Now, come on. You must be tired. Let me clean you up, and then we can cuddle for the rest of the night.”

“Of course.” Loki’s eyes conveyed a sweet sense of innocence… It was too sweet. He must have had other plans.

My suspicions were confirmed when he leaned in towards my ear and whispered. “Though, I believe I still have some dues to pay before we carry on with our night. Don’t you?”

I felt my ache for him quickly returning all at once. “Oh, you-”

Before I could finish my teasing remark, Loki had me trapped in another kiss.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Promise Me

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x female reader

Warnings: failed relationship, miscarriage, angst, alcohol abuse, car accident

I’ve written this for @callsign-phoenix Sophie’s 1k follower challenge using the prompt ‘Hangman’s Hangover’.

“How many of those has he had,” Phoenix asked, aiming her pool cue towards Hangman. He was sitting at the bar surrounded by empty glasses, and his hair was a mess, not in its usual neatly gelled state. He had dark shadows under his blue eye and the gray tracksuit wasn’t doing him any favors.

“I have no clue but I have a feeling one of us is going to have to carry him home,” Coyote grunted, taking the cue from Phoenix.

“I’m not even sure what he’s drinking now. He started with whiskey but since then he’s had vodka and god knows what.” Bob chimed in, popping another peanut into his mouth as he watched his friends play.

“This has really done a number on him,” Coyote mumbled.

“They lost a child, Coyote. They are both hurting and I don’t blame them. Do you remember how excited he was when she was pregnant?” They all thought back to that day when Jake came running into the Hangman, the biggest grin on his face and waving a small piece of paper. It was the sonogram and he’d carried it in his flight suit ever since.

“Yeah but they didn’t need to break up over it.” Coyote grumbled, he never understood that if they loved each other and needed each other so much why they broke up.

Phoenix sighed, “They're just processing their grief differently and it's hard on both of them. She is just as broken up about this as he is.” Phoenix glared at her fellow aviator displeased.

“I know it's not her fault. I didn’t mean I like that. I can’t even begin to imagine what they’re going through,” he sighed. “I just hate seeing him like this.”

“We all do Javy,” Phoenix explained, “I just know that both of our friends are hurting and they need us.” She set the cue down on the pool table, abandoning the game. “I think I’m gonna call it a night. I’m gonna check in with her on my way home.”

Bob and Coyote waved her goodbye and watched as she placed a gentle hand on Jake’s back before leaving.

“You’re up Bob,” Coyote said, leaning across the table smirking as he took another shot.

“What!” Bob's expression resembled a deer in the headlights, a few peanuts escaping from the cup and rolling down his uniform.

“Well I spent all of last week helping him home and he was sick in my car. Do you know how long it took me to get the smell out?”

Bob's face crumpled a little and he wrinkled his nose at the thought of Jake vomiting in his car. He’d never really liked Jake, he had been a dick to him ever since their first meeting before the uranium mission and he always managed to find a way to pick on him. But looking at his fallen comrade now, Bob couldn’t have felt more sympathetic, he loved you both dearly and he felt your pain.

Having been as thick as thieves since your Top Gun training, you had started dating shortly after. You were the kind of couple that everyone wanted to be, so in sync with each other, you knew what the other would do before they had even thought of it. It was the kind of love Bob had always wanted, the kind of love from movies that he’d seen as a kid. He was convinced that you would get married after the uranium mission especially once you’d found out you were pregnant. Jake had been ecstatic and had even promised to make Bob the baby’s Godfather. He smiled at the thought of that day, everyone had been celebrating at the Hard Deck, even Mav was there raising a toast to the newest member of the Dagger Squad.

Bob’s face fell as he thought back to the fateful nights two weeks ago. It had been carnage. The couple had been in a car accident on the way back from a party and Maverick and Penny’s house. A drunk driver came out of nowhere and rammed them clean off the road. Jake came away mostly unscathed but you had taken a direct hit from the car on your side and was left with a broken collarbone and multiple broken ribs. The baby hadn’t survived and when you had both needed each other most you just couldn’t stand to see each other so hurt. After fighting like mad, eventually the doctors advised that Jake stopped coming to visit. That was the last time Jake had seen you and since that day spent most of the time at the bar drowning his sorrow.

Bob sighed, placing his empty cup of peanuts down and headed towards where Jake was sitting.

“Hey Bagman, mind if I sit here?” He gestured to the bar stall next to him. Jake mumbled something and Bob took that as an invitation to sit down. “What you got there.” Bob pointed towards his single glass that was no longer surrounded by others. Penny must have tidied up, Bob thought to himself.

“I don’t know,” Jake replied, expressionlessly.

“What do you mean you don’t know,” Bob asked worriedly. How much had he drunk?

“Well, Penny wanted to clean up the glasses so I poured it all into one.” He slurred, waving his hand over the glass. “I got whiskey and vodka. I think there’s some beer in there too and I had tequila. Oh, and I had a gin and tonic earlier too.”

“Shit Jake, what’s that a recipe for a ‘Hangman hangover?”

The other pilot snorted and downed the rest of the glass, pulling a face at the foul taste. He stood up from the bar stool, wobbling slightly and Bob grabbed his arm to support him. “Come on, Jake. Let’s get you home ok.”

“No Bobby, I don’t want to go home.” His lip began quivering as Bob carefully guided him out to his car and got him seated in the front seat. “Please don’t leave me, Bobby. I don’t want to be alone. Please don’t leave me.” He started sobbing into the sleeve of Bob’s jacket and Bob pulled him close. Jake gripped onto him like he was a life raft in the middle of the ocean and he didn’t want to let go. Bob could feel all the tension leaving Jake’s body as he cried, burying his head into the crook of Bob’s neck. The two men embraced like this for a while, neither wanting to let go too soon. When Jake eventually pulled away, he looked up at his fellow aviator with teary eyes. “Please can I come home with you, Bob? I promise not to be a dick to you and I'll try my best not to be sick in your car.” He hiccuped and for a moment Bob thought he looked like a child pleading with his parents, he looked so innocent.

“Sure thing Bud,” was all Bob could muster, helping Hangman swing his leg into the car and doing up his seat belt, before going round to the driver's side.

The drive home was quiet, Bob kept watching as Jake became more and more green but kept promising he wouldn’t be sick. When they reached Bob’s apartment, Jake was straight out of the car and vomited on the pavement outside his house. “I’m so sorry Bob,” he almost cried, continuing to wretch even though his stomach was empty.

“It’s fine Jake. Don’t worry.” Bob helped the other man up the drive and through the front door, aiming him straight for the bedroom. Jake collapsed onto Bob’s bed with a sigh while he went to retrieve a towel and bucket. When Bob returned Jake was asleep and he had to try and roll the larger man onto his side next to the bucket. He pulled off Jake’s shoes and his jeans, leaving him in his T-shirt and boxers. He looked so peaceful when he slept, Bob thought. He retreated to the door and was about to go out when Jake stirred. “Bob, will you stay with me for a while?” He called out softly. Bob stood in the doorway debating his options before agreeing and sitting beside Jake on the bed. Jake rolled over so that he had his head resting on Bob's leg. Bob tensed slightly unsure of what to do so he just sat with his arms crossed, listening as Jake talked.

“I’m so lost without her Bobby. She was my everything and we were so happy. I…” He sniffled and wiped his nose with his hand. “I don’t know what to do without her. I was a dickhead and I don’t know why. Everything just hurt so bad and I ended up losing both of them.” A steady stream of tears began following down his cheeks. Bob placed a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder, comfortingly. “I don’t know what to do.” Jake continued to talk quietly and Bob listened.

“Bob, can I get you to promise me something?” He looked up at him, the hurt evident in his eyes.

“Sure thing, Jake.”

“Promise me that if you ever love someone as much as I love her, promise me you’ll never let her go. Promise me, Bob.” More tears began to fall from Jake’s eyes and he lay his head back on Bob’s leg.

“I promise, Bagman.”

The two men continued to sit in silence until he could hear soft snores leaving Jake's mouth. He wriggled out from under his fellow pilot and made his way out of the room quietly. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he called phoenix.

“Hey Bob,” she whispered when she answered.

“Hey Nat, I’m sorry I know it's late,” he began.

“No, it's fine. Don’t worry. She’s only just gone to sleep.” He could hear Phoenix shuffling around at the other end of the phone before her voice became louder.

“She’s a mess, Bob.”

“Bob sighed, “ Yeah, so is Jake. I’ve got him at my place and all he’s done is cry since we left the bar. I don’t know what to do?”

“We need to do something. I can't keep watching them go through this.” Phoenix sighed. “I think we need to get them to see each other again. To talk through everything.”

Bob agreed quietly, trying to think of a way they could get their two friends back together.

“How about you come by my place with Bagman tomorrow afternoon? I'll get her to come over and we can see if they’ll talk to each other.”

“That’s a good plan, Nat. Thanks.”

“No worries, Bobby. It’s a date.” She laughed at Bob tripping over his words on the other. “I’m joking, Bob. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Bob laughed awkwardly. “See you tomorrow, Nat.” The two pilots hung up the phone and Bob sat on the sofa. Maybe they could get Jake and you to work through this, after all, they had the kind of love from a movie.

Tag list: @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @blue-aconite @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @a-reader-and-a-writer @topguncortez @luckyladycreator2 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @maggiescarborough @callsignmaverick5 @alexxavicry @abaker74 @elenavampire21

[mothofstars]

Epic: The Musical - Tier list to appease my autism

Epic is quite possibly my favourite musical of all time, and after the release of the Wisdom Saga, I really wanted to rank the songs and put my thoughts about them somewhere.

And I'm not about to spend 5 hours on this and not post it anywhere, so please enjoy my ramblings! From least favourite to most favourite, here is my Epic tier list!

30. Full Speed Ahead - Troy Saga

It's worth pointing out, I don't dislike any of these songs. I like all of the songs, and think they are all important and serve the overall musical. But this, for me, is a bit more of an 'establishing' song. It serves as exposition to get us from one place to another, both literally for the crew, and musically as we move from the emotional song of Just a Man to the more fun Open Arms.

29. Storm - Ocean Saga

This is also a little bit more of an exposition song, but for me I think this mix is stronger, I love the call and response, and for some reason still giggle when they all point towards the island in the sky!

28. Luck Runs Out - Ocean Saga

I like the way this shows the starts of the cracks forming between Ody and Eurylochus. Eurylochus, quite rightly, gets a little weirded out by the idea of climbing up to a floating island that has a potential god resting upon it. Ody on the other hand hasn't had the crap beaten out of him enough times yet, and still has the optimism that means he will do just that. You can hear a twinge of pain in Ody's voice as he realises that his second in command is starting to doubt his actions, all the while he is just doing his best to keep his crew together and alive.

27. Open Arms - Troy Saga

This song is great - What is there to say about this sweet boy that hasn't already been said? We all know and love him, and this song shows off that sweetness and love for life so well. However, this song is so much better when used in other songs to absolutely shatter your heart into a million tiny pieces as we all grieve our happy friend. This song is still strong, but I think its overall impact comes more from its use in other songs, rather than the original!

26. Polyphemus - Cyclops Saga

The brutality of this introduction to this saga is terrifying. I still get chills during the cyclops saga, and the turn at the end of the song is so well done. Each verse seems to add another layer of tension, and we feel like we are sneaking closer and closer to a conclusion that favours the crew, and then, we get stomped.

25. The Horse and the Infant - Troy Saga

This is one of the best openings to a musical - we know the main characters, we know what they want, and we know exactly where they all stand. This is achieved without too much wordy-ness and exposition, and just serves as a great and powerful introduction. Also, love how Ody is immediately humbled by being presented with a challenge he already struggles with, bringing him closer to the listener. I've been told by a few that if you have the prior context of the books that came before the Odyssy that the names being read out at the start is like a nice little round of references to previous stories - it's a shame this doesn't hit for me yet, as I am still learning quite a bit of the context surrounding this musical. For me, as well, there is just so much going on in this song, that my head spins a little lol.

24. Survive - Cyclops Saga

Very similarly to the Troy saga, the second song of the cyclops saga once again seems to have the aim of humbling Ody and making him closer to us, your average mortal, than a god. You can feel the genuine pain and fear in his voice as his friends fall, and the splashes and smashes of blood and club are poignant and painful to listen to. We get to see the tactician brain of his working to full speed, with a steady ticking in the background making it feel like Athena is right there with him, which is a lovely touch.

23. Remember Them - Cyclops Saga

Wow, this song is so strong and painful at the same time. The fade into the song, hearing Ody's mind snap straight into action and then him calling out to his friends with directions demonstrates his tactician brain and his ability to lead them really well, but also feels like he is also trying to guide the crew through the first big loss they will experience together. He steps right up, refocuses them, and gets shit done. Shame he didn't kill him, but this would be a very short story if he did!

22. Keep Your Friends Close - Ocean Saga

I am but a small, simple lesbian. The way Kira sings here just feels so nice and floaty, while also showing her more mischievous nature. The longing in Ody's voice as he sings for his family is so painful, and makes the next song hit so much harder. The promise of him being the same, knowing that not to be the case it heart-breaking. Also, give me more Winions. I need them as plushies please. Thank you.

21. Mutiny - Thunder Saga

The absolute gall of Eurylochus to be a massive fucking hypocrite and then pull out the line of "I'm starving my friend" with that much pain in his voice is breath-taking and incredible. He doesn't even feel like he really wants to betray Ody, but is just doing exactly what he thinks he needs to do to see another day. Little does he know. This song also suffers a little from the same problem I have with The Horse and The Infant - a lil too much going on

20. Ruthlessness - Ocean Saga

HELLO SIR! My goodness this mans vocals are so smooth but rough at the same time. The growl that he gives to his voice whilst still flowing the lyrics together so musically is just so impressive. And the background instrumentation imitating the crashing of waves against the ship is *chefs kiss*. And then..... ALL I GOTTA DO IS OPEN THIS BAG!!!!!! I think this song might rate higher for me if I didn't end it with the most tonal whiplash ever. It's hilarious, don't get me wrong. But my gods, does it pull me out of the song a little bit lol.

19. Different Beast - Thunder Saga

The way I jumped out of my seat when I first listened to this saga, admittedly at 6am, I think I could have punched a hole in the roof were I less vertically challenged. He means business, this song shows that, and gods is it good. The small plea for mercy from the sirens who feel like they already know the answer, and the ruthlessness of his response. Hey look, he is learning!...

18. Puppeteer - Circe Saga

A woman. What? She had me in just one song. I would thank her if she turned me into a pig. Her vocals are perfection, the chanting of her power, the way she can hypnotise a whole crew. I find it interesting too, how just the promise of a warm meal and a safe place, even if it might be a trick, is enough to pull the crew into her arms. They may be under her spell, but part of me thinks so may have chosen this if given the option.

17. Wouldn't You Like - Circe Saga

Look, all I'm saying is that it was very telling that the day after the Circe sage came out that my Spotify started filling up with TROY's music. He is amazing, plays the character in the best way I have seen bar none so far. And that fur coat and sunglasses?! What a look. Also its funny hearing a British phrase as a plant name.

16. The Underworld - Underworld Saga

Jorge please, my face is stained from tears shed in this song. Every single time I listen to this I shed at least 3 tears. It's like a subscription cost of pain in return for a song that is as moving as it is powerful and reflective. The call backs to the previous sings are haunting, no pun intended, and the choice to have his own mother play Ody's mother is genius, and I hate and love it. As someone who has lost a connection to their own mother, it always makes me tear up as he yearns to be with her again, and shows the regret in his voice that he never got to say goodbye.

15 and 14. Done For *and* There Are Other Ways - Circe Saga

I cannot separate these two songs in my mind. Not only do they flow from one to the other perfectly, but they just do such a good job of leading us from a battle of power to a battle of the mind, with the flowing, seductive vocals from Talya and the trance of the music behind it. Again, I would have absolutely stayed with her, I am weak. I like to think my wife would forgive me!

13. Little Wolf - Wisdom Saga

Little wolf is such a good song because, even without Athena, the vocals are just so damn crisp and punchy. When I saw that the animatic in the livestream showcase was a streetfighter style animation, it made perfect sense - the punch of the beat and the chanting of the team behind the enemy works so well. And then, my goddess arrives to swoop in and steal my heart. She has clearly grown in the last few sagas and years that have passed, and I think this introduction of her back into the musical does a great job doing that. She comes in, bestows wisdom, helps a kid kick some ass, and with it once again confirms my status as a lesbian.

12. Just a Man - Troy Saga

This. Is. Heart-breaking. I'm sure that many people have the same reaction to this, but as the beginning of Ody's journey, it just hits so hard. Him recalling his own young son, and then knowing how long they will be apart makes it even more impactful. The change of pacing from the lullaby of the first part, to the painful growl in his voice as his questions his actions and realises that he has done is just pain.

11. Monster - Underworld Saga

This was so hard to pick apart from I'm Just a Man. I love them both. The only reason this stands a little higher is the overall arc from the song that precedes this one into it is a little stronger, and I love the complete rage in his voice. He did all this, tried to do right by his crew and his wife, and is told by the man who he thinks will help him get home that "yeaaah nah you are absolutely fucked, have you seen yourself recently?!". Yeah, I would sing like this too. He can see where he went wrong, and this acts as a really nice turning point for him going forward. If he is going to be seen as a changed man, who's ruthless actions will hurt those him around him, he might as well go all in. he is the monster ra ra ra

10. Suffering - Thunder Saga

Jorge tucking his hair behind his ear. End of review. No but really, this is great. I know he did a TikTok on this, but the way the lyrics flow into each other to create this hypnotising melody is just breath-taking, and I will never forget the moment of 'wait hold up what is happening' the first time I listened to this song. First I thought that this was dream Penelope, back from her saga with the windy bag, and then was genuinely taken back by references to a daughter. oh no

9. Thunder Bringer - Thunder Saga

I get a bit annoyed, very stupidly, when I cannot sing along to a song I really like. It's one thing I love about listening to musicals, is learning the songs and then performing them to mu plushies in a vague attempt to satisfy the very anxious performer that lives inside me. Which means that a lot of my favourite songs are ones that fit within my vocal range, that i can sing along to. This one is so far outside of my vocal range, it might as well be on a whole other plane of existence. But my gods do I absolutely adore this song none the less. How can the asshole that is Zeus sound so fucking cool while being this much of a dick towards women while flipping off Ody in the background. This song is just an ego flex. Good job Luke Holt. Fuck Zeus.

8. My Goodbye - Cyclops Saga

I really like the way this song shows the 'youth', for want of a better word, of Athena and the impact on Ody's actions on her and its just so good. The vocals show so much of their pain and anger, and the mix is just perfect. The contrast is Ody screaming at her and then the genuine pain in her voice, the impact of her responsibility as a god is so good. No words can properly do this song justice. The best part is, neither of them are correct here. If they had just sat down and had a chat like grown ups they might have stayed alongside each other, but both think that their actions are the correct one, and i cannot entirely disagree with either response.

7. We'll Be Fine - Wisdom Saga

Kinda loving that most of the Athena songs are all sat together. It makes me so happy. The absolute sobbing that erupted from my eyes, nose and mouth during this song would have probably classed as a downpour. I love both of these characters so much, and Athena's vocals at the start are so heart-breaking and bittersweet, followed by the most heart-warming duet that has ever graced my ears. Also, the childlike joy and wonder behind the vocals from Telemachus are so beautiful and cute, and I would fight for him!!

6. Warrior of the Mind - Troy Saga

Ah, Athena, my beloved. I would perish for you in a heartbeat. I just love the heart that Teagan gives her through her performance - its so warm and playful in the introduction part, and they both almost feel like each others hype, its fantastic! It's also a great way to show off the influence that she has over Ody - she puts herself right in the centre, reminding him exactly why she respects him so much, while affirming her stance on his training.

5. Legendary - Wisdom Saga

Miguel's casting was one of the most perfect ones in this history of this musical. Not only because of his incredible vocals, but because they fit so perfectly with Jorge's. I can fully picture this kid and his dad together, their voices sound so much like each others, just like a younger version. This song is the perfect match of catchy and smooth, and it just soothes my brain perfectly. Special credit to the retort to Antinous about his mother. This is the perfect opening to one of the best sagas we have been gifted yet. Side note - I cannot wait to see Antinous get absolutely stomped into the ground (please gods tell me he does or I will never sleep at night) because my goodness, what a line delivery. I will throw this man. Protect Telemachus, throw Antinous off a roof like the baby, and someone get Argos a new toy.

4. God Games - Wisdom Saga

I'm not someone who listens to the demo's much (bar listening to Hermes laugh on repeat, and occasionally looking up lyrics). I like that they are out there, and my wife absolutely adores them, but I prefer to wait till the full release so I can listen to everything with a full cast and mix. Did that stop me from having over 20 videos of different people lip-syncing to the bits of Hera for this song, making me look like the thirstiest person in my area. No. I don't think that this song could be anywhere other than my top three. All the singers are incredible, all of the animatics are incredible (special shout out to Athena disco dancing into madness) and I wept like a baby when it was over.

3. No Longer You - Underworld Saga

This song is perfect. I have no notes. This is where my true top songs really begins. This song is so passionate while not straying into anger (outside of Jorge's owl impression that is), while at the same making the prophet sound entirely distant, almost uncaring. It's an added bonus that this song sits right near the bottom of my vocal range and so serves for great belting material when I need to let out feelings.

2. Scylla - Thunder Saga

This saga did an amazing job of making me absolutely loose my mind with every single one of its songs. Not all of them are what I would regard as my favourites, nor would I even say that this is necessarily my favourite saga (I think we can all guess which one is), but my gods can Scylla absolutely take my life. This song is perfect - The slow introduction into the absolutely mind bending vocals from KJ, with the growl of a monster and the voice of a monarch. Its incredible, and I will forever be trying to sing this just as half as well as they do.

1 . Love in Paradise - Wisdom Saga

I wish I could write all of the words that this song deserves, but I'm sobbing too much to focus, so you will have to deal with whatever I have that i can see behind this waterfall of tears. Athena travelling through the previous sagas and reliving all the pain that Ody went through sent me into a state to begin with. And then, Calypso arrives and reminds me how gay I am. I want to go to her island and give her hug. If it weren't for the animatic, and the little face that she makes when she finds out Ody is married, I wouldn't have stopped crying for a single second. Her intension aren't pure. She is desperate, she is alone, she is sad. She is very morally grey. All she wants is someone to soothe her, and in turn she tries to relieve his pain. It's important to note here that, outside of looking up her future songs, I have very little knowledge about Calypso. For me, based on the lyrics we have from "Not Sorry For Loving You", she seems to have been forced to remain on this island for hundreds of years with no contact. Is what she does to Ody horrible - yes. Do I think she wants to hurt him -no. And I also don't believe that she is trying to manipulate him to get off the ledge just so she can have her lover back - I read this as someone who is in love and trying their best to make them happy and keep them safe. Ody couldn't leave the island, and she couldn't let him be free, they have to ask Zeus for that. Not to get too deep, but her crying out to Ody makes me melt every time. The gut retching pain from Ody drying out for all those he has lost and who he thinks he will never see again is haunting. Give me a year and the ability to remove my fear of thousands of needle pokes, I will probably get the line "Life would be so much worse if you had died" nicely printed onto my body. This is the perfect song to top off all the other perfect songs here. I cannot express how much this song means to me.

Thank you, Jorge.

To give a summery, here are the Saga's ranked!

1 . Wisdom 2 . Underworld 3 . Thunder 4 . Circe 5 . Cyclops 6 . Troy 7 . Ocean