#so many chapters with no comments whatsoever

[ladynicte]

And officially the coffincest fic has gotten more comments than the Percico one ever got

[chasing-chimeras]

.

[sabraeal]

as a writer how do you stop thinking about like getting kudos/comments? I've just started writing fanfic, and when I start a writing something -- it goes well and then eventually I get to point where I'm like "ahh but what the readers don't like that? or what if I don't get as many kudos or comments" and it makes it difficult to continue because then it becomes stressful -- I guess how do you deal with "wanting to write stuff for yourself" and "wanting validation" thanks!

You're going to hate this answer, because I hated it too, but TIME. When you first start writing and you get kudos and comments and people love what you're doing, it's a huge validation of your effort and talent, and it's natural that you want MORE of it. When I first started putting up fics I already had been writing for 15+ years, knew I was good at it, and still for a good few years found myself really glued to the hit counter, and the kudos, and wondering how I'd be able to get people to comment the same way they did on things like Seven Suitors.

But the thing is that commenting comes and goes in waves, and unless a fandom has a big comment culture, or is large enough that you're guaranteed a good glut of them every time you post...you're going to hit a point where you write exactly what everyone wants and get crickets. And at that point you'll get ANNOYED, because LOOK, I MADE THIS, i made it for YOU GUYS, and now y'all don't have anything to say? It'll get to you. It'll make you doubt that you know what anyone wants at all. It'll happen and it'll suck the whole time.

Lots of advice will say "write for yourself," which is an excellent sentiment. You should always write what YOU want. Put into your fic what you want to see, write the nitpicky poetic metaphors and craft the most screwball twists your heart desires. Pour yourself into the most niche AUs and most tin-hat canon theories. At the end of the day, you want the IDEAS you put down to be for you, because comments and kudos are nice, but if they don't come...you have to be proud of what you put out, even when it feels like an echo chamber.

But also...we don't POST things for ourselves. We post things to share. Fic are a conversation with canon and it is perfectly natural to want to create something that creates conversation among other fans. So you're never going to fully get the need for validation out of your head, you're not. You can hide hit counts and ignore your inbox all you like, but the want to have someone interact with your work, to inspire someone to reach out to you will ALWAYS be there. You just have to create a healthier relationship with it.

Be confident in what you write. Think less about whether people will like it, and more about how you WANT them to react. The reader is the most important character in any novel, but it's the one most authors forget to manage. When you come to a point where you go "oh man, I hope this is good for them!" stop and go, "what do I *want* them to be feeling here?" Focus on where you're putting their attention and whether you WANT it there. There's so much you can do when you visualize your relationship with the reader as PART of the work, and it takes off a lot of the pressure of "is this good? is it disappointing? will this get me validation?" and brings it back into the realm of storytelling. You are taking your reader on a journey, and when you do it well people will think less about "did I like that?" and more about "what comes next?"

[raddishwrites]

Chapter four!

[giuliettagaltieri]

Swarm of Bees

Pairing: Fiancé!Gojō x Fiancée!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Gojō Satoru gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warning: angst, arranged marriage, age gap, hints of dacryphilia, Gojō is a bully at heart.

Word Count: 1596

3 of 9

There are many things that Gojō Satoru hates.

One, the higher ups of the jujutsu society.

Two, when people say “No offense, but…” And proceed to insult him.

Three, people who get in his way.

And four, when he is not getting the attention he deserves.

In the past few years, Gojō has been working as a teacher in the Jujutsu High.  He still leaves for missions, it was only expected as he is the strongest sorcerer.  But he stays in the school quite often compared to when he was a field sorcerer.

And quite frankly, he expected more visits from a certain someone.

But he never got them anymore.

Shoko would often put out her cigarette to drop her face on her palms whenever Gojō talks about this.  And he cannot understand why she does that.

From time to time, he receives gifts from you.  But no more letters.  Nothing that adds a personal touch from you.  Just food.  As if you’re sending them so he won’t forget you existed.

But if he were to be asked, forgetting you was impossible as your time to be wedded comes closer and closer.

And now, you are celebrating your 20th naming day.

You turned into a beautiful young lady.  Truly worthy of him. 

But much to his aggravation, it seems like many took notice of your change too.

Men from different clans were hovering over you. 

Greeting you, complimenting you about the simplest of things.  It made something inside him itch and it bothered him to no end.

They only liked you now because you turned out to be a well-polished woman.  They did not see you with snot on your nose as you wailed after scraping your knee, which he absolutely had no involvement whatsoever or when your face bubbled like a squirrel when you did not get your way.

“You’re pouting.”  Shoko comments as she sips on her glass of champagne.

The celebration was at its peak.  The musical ensemble was playing a lively tune and gossips and giggles were filling the floral air of your estate house.

And you, the center of the event.

Almost every pair of eyes were on you.

Gone was the shy little lady of your house.  You are now a woman who is ready to take her first steps into society.  You were like a fresh fruit, ripe for the taking.  Had it not been for Gojō’s presence, many insolent men would have asked, no, begged for your hand right then.

Your hair glittered with every turn of your head.  Your painted lips curving up to a perfect smile whenever a gentleman compliments you.  Yet the innocent smile is always paired with the haughty spark in your eyes as you decline their offer to dance.

It was the fourth time that you declined an offer in the same hour.

And Gojō Satoru cannot stand to watch such blatant disrespect any longer.

Both Shoko and Nanami follow him with their watching eyes as he makes his way to you.  Their feet are ready to move as soon as the man makes a fool of himself or starts a fit in the middle of your perfect evening.  Or both.

They were at the edge of their seats when Gojō clears his throat to catch your attention.  The two of them watch very closely for any sudden movement from any of you.

But like fluid from the most graceful of waterfalls, you rise from your seat, standing on the tip of your toes to lean on Gojō’s chest.

All breaths halted at your action, including the man you were smiling up to.  His crystalline blue eyes watching you, almost calculating your every move.  But you smile slyly at him as your fingers trace his jaw and your lips find his cheek.

“I am delighted to see you.  But I am terribly sorry Gojō-sama, I would have to decline.”  Your thumb caresses his cold cheek.  “My dance card is full for the evening.”

Like a nymph, you slide away from him to accept the hand of a young man who was waiting for you.  And Gojō can only watch as you are being guided to the center of the floor.  

And you danced so beautifully.

The itch turned into a burn.  And Gojō had to sit the entire evening with such sensation nesting in his chest, almost clawing out into a form of aggression.

Whenever your dance partner spins you or their gloved hands wander closely to your bottom, Gojō has to quell the urge to pummel them to the ground.  He did not quite understand the urge to do so.  But after having the feeling for the rest of the night, he has come to terms with it.  Given up on trying to understand the impulse and just settled with the idea that every man who speaks with you is disrespecting him.

And you.

Oh, he is so cross with you.

How dare you fill in your dance card without reserving even a single dance for him.  Have you forgotten that you are betrothed to him?  Or do you just fancy the little game you are playing?  Acting as if he is not around.

The clock hand tells that the night was no longer young.  But you were still being twirled around in the middle of the dance hall.  It was your final dance for the evening.  And by the slight delay in your steps, he is well aware that you are exhausted from dancing for hours.

By the time the last note travels through the air, Gojō was already on his feet and marching towards you. 

You took no notice of course as you were smiling brightly at your dance partner as he bowed to place a kiss on your gloved hand.

But before his lips could touch you, Gojō Satoru unceremoniously grabs you by your midriff and carries you like a mannequin being set up for display.

Your startled squeal catches the attention of every person in the room and they watch as you wrap your arms around your fiancé’s neck in panic.

As the man carries you and disappears behind the doors to your garden, the chatter resumes but now, soft smiles are gracing the lips of every attendee.

They have been granted the front row seats to watch your game of push and pull with the strongest sorcerer.  Some of them have been watching ever since before you learned to walk.

It brought them great joy to see the man finally taking an action to claim you as his woman.

You, on the other hand, have your heart beating wildly on your chest.

Have you pushed too far?

Has your act of refusing his offer to dance been too much of a blow to his pride?

When Gojō places you down, you also pull your arms back to your sides.  You do not want to meet his eyes.  No, not at all.

“Sit.”

You still instinctively look up at him though.  “Huh?”

He gestures to the bench behind you.  “I said, sit.”

Immediately, you pull at your dress to smoothen the fabric as you sit down.  You did not appreciate how the act made you even smaller compared to his full height.

Your fingers twiddle with each other to release some of the budding nervousness in your chest.

“I-I am terribly sorry if I upset you, Gojō-sama.”  You stammer.

There you are.

A smirk finds itself on Gojō's lips.  You haven’t changed one bit.  You were only brave when there were other people around but you are the same shy little girl that he knew the moment you were alone.

He kneels before you to look you in the eye.  “Upset me? Whatever do you mean, my love?”  His tone was dark and dangerous despite him smiling playfully at you. 

You wanted to cry.

And his smile widens when your eyes turn glassy just as your lips wobble.

He just watched your suffering, willing yourself to hold back the tears.  Just as you thought you'd break, he clicks his tongue and digs through the poof of your gown to take off your sandals.

And as he expected, blisters covered your dainty feet.

“How were you dancing so beautifully with such discomfort.”  He says with his voice grim.

You can only watch him as his hands work on healing your wounds.

At times like this, you feel the safest.  As if nothing in the world could harm you.

And without much thinking, your hands cup his cheek.  And Gojō looks at you with still a tiny frown by his eyebrows.

“Are you upset with me?”  You ask with your voice barely above a whisper.

“That depends.  Are you done with your ruse?”  He cocks an eyebrow and you nod shyly.  “Then we’re good.”

“Will you dance with me now?” 

When you smile at him so softly, how can he say no?

But to your surprise, the man grabs you by your waist, lifts you up until your now healed feet are stepping on his shoes.

You hastily tried to get off but he tightens his hold on your waist.

“Stay.”

It was a simple command but you find yourself surrendering all that you are to him.

Your hands find themselves resting atop his shoulders and with the echoes of the music spilling to the dim garden, Gojō Satoru makes you feel as if you too were honored throughout heaven and earth, simply because he had you in his arms and he was swaying you to the faintest of melodies.

Where the Blue Roses Grow

[daisynik7]

Sweet Like Honey

Chapter 2: After I Love You

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.0k

cw: established relationship, fluff, smut – PIV sex (missionary, cowgirl), nipple play, cunnilingus, fingering, slight bondage, cream pie, sex without a condom, pet names (sweetheart, baby), daddy kink (very brief)

Summary: You and Nanami say I love you for the first time in your childhood bedroom, where you almost get carried away. That night, the two of you continue what you started.

Author’s Notes: Here is the second spicy side story for A Bento for Kento! This is the smutty aftermath of The Apple of His Eye Chapter 1, in case anyone wants to read that first if you haven’t already! Anyways, this is a repost (I originally posted this last year), but it’s been edited and rewritten to match my current style. I hope you enjoy! Dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Previous Chapter | Sweet Like Honey Masterlist | Next Chapter

Kento, I love you. 

I really love you, Kento.

Waves of euphoria ripple throughout Nanami when he hears her say it. For a second, he stays still, unable to move. He can only stare at her with wide eyes, speechless. Then, without thinking, he kisses her full on the lips, his composure crumbling from the weight of those words. 

She loves him. And he loves her. They love each other. 

Before he knows it, he’s on top of her, dress all the way up to her neck, lips wet from kissing, his cheeks hot and tinted pink as he explores her almost bare body. It isn’t until he hears stomping when he realizes he’s about to make love to his girlfriend in her childhood bedroom during a family party. A party where he just met her parents, who are right below them. 

They break apart promptly, Ren swinging the door open to invite them to a game of charades. Good, clean, innocent fun. Unlike what they were about to partake in if they weren’t so conveniently interrupted. It’s for the best, Nanami thinks, as he stands with his back towards the door, hiding the growing bulge in his pants from his former student/future brother-in-law. If they continued down that dangerous road, there’s no way they would have kept quiet. Not with the emotions that they have for each other now.

Show me how much you love me. Tonight. Let’s finish what we started.

That’s what she suggests. Nanami doesn’t expect them to actually have sex tonight, since they are riding back to her home with Ren. So, he dismisses it as a naughty comment made in a moment of passion. 

They spend a few more hours at the party, playing charades, mingling with her family, and eating more delicious food. He takes every chance he can to touch her, from holding her hand to stroking her back. He doesn’t take his eyes off her. How can he? This sweet angel loves him. 

Near the end of the night, Ren informs them that he’ll be staying the weekend with his parents; his sister has the house all to herself. This intrigues Nanami, excites him. He’s spent the night at her place plenty of times, but with her protective younger brother sleeping in the next room, they’ve had to set boundaries with each other when it comes to intimacy. This means no sex whatsoever when Ren is there, which they’ve miraculously managed to abide by so far. 

The thought of making love to her in her house, the one forbidden sanctuary, is titillating. Too many times has he almost given into temptation as they shared her bed, bodies snuggled together, his hands always drifting to the most sensual parts of her. They’ve held back each time they kissed goodnight, the desire to go further heavy against their lips, as her brother snores on the opposite side of the wall. And now tonight, after a perfect day spent with the woman he loves, he has no intentions of holding back, not when this rare opportunity has been presented to them. He plans to take full advantage of it. 

Show me how much you love me. Let’s finish what we started.

That’s what she suggests. So that’s what they’ll do. 

~~~

As you ride the train back home, Nanami’s hand entwined with yours, a familiar sensation pools in your stomach. The news that your brother is staying at your parent’s house changes everything. The thought of being alone in your home with Nanami sparks a flame that ignites your entire being. Will you be able to control yourself once you step through that door? Your house is quite small, but even the bedroom seems too far away. You’re tempted to let him have you on the couch, maybe the kitchen counter. Whatever is closer, really. 

Lost in your dirty thoughts, you jolt at the sudden sound of his voice in your ear. “Do you still want to finish what we started?” 

You turn to look at him, grinning. “What do you want to do?” 

There’s a heavy pause before he whispers, “I want to christen that bed of yours. Will you let me?”

You squeeze your thighs together, throbbing between your legs. “I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.” 

His nostrils flare slightly as he stares at you. The primal look in his gaze makes you think he’ll take you here on the train, in front of these other passengers. He turns his head away and takes a few deep breaths, tightening his grip on you. You can tell he’s trying to compose himself. Once the train reaches your stop, he immediately gets up and leads you past the crowds of people, speed walking all the way to your house in record time. 

You fumble through your purse to look for your keys, trembling with anticipation. He stands behind you, pawing at your waist and mouth hot on the back of your neck as you unlock the door. Once you’re inside, he pushes you gently against the wall and kisses you, tongue grazing your lips. He sheds his tan blazer as you both kick off your shoes. “Kento,” you breathe out, as he moves to your neck. Your skin is on fire under his touch. 

He says your name in return, licking a stripe behind your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeat, tugging at his spotted tie. He takes it off and wraps it tightly around his fingers, caressing your cheek, the fabric velvety on your skin. His thumb drags your bottom lip as he drifts down to your chest. 

“Your heart is beating so fast. Are you nervous?” He rests his forehead on yours, lids shut as he breathes deeply through his nose.

You giggle. “Not nervous. Just really, really horny.”

He smirks. “Naughty girl. I’ll take care of you.” He slides underneath your dress, rubbing you through your panties. “Always so wet for me. My good girl.” It’s dangerous the way he says it. All logical thinking is erased from your mind and the only thing you desire is to feel him inside you.

“Baby, please,” you whine, clutching his collar in your fists.  

Chuckling, he teases, “No patience for foreplay?” 

“You told me you want to christen my bed, so what are you waiting for?” you challenge him, pouting. 

“We have all night. I want to take my time with you.” As he says it, his fingers slip past the fabric of your underwear, gathering the slick to rub wet circles on your clit. You let out a stifled moan as you grind on him, yearning for more. “But how can I deny you when you’re like this? So desperate and needy for my cock. Makes me so fucking hard.” He pulls out from under your dress to lead you by the wrist into your bedroom.

You lie on the bed, dress pulled up to your stomach, sliding your panties off. Spreading your legs wide, you start playing with your clit as he watches from the end of the bed. “Do you touch yourself like this when I’m not around?” He unbuckles his belt slowly, enjoying the show you’re putting on for him. As he slides out of his pants, one leg at a time, you nod and slip a finger inside your slit. Your cheeks rush with heat, embarrassed at the lewd squelch it makes. 

“Put another one in.” He kneels in front of you now, wearing only his briefs and dress shirt, slightly unbuttoned from the top. 

Obeying his command, you insert your ring finger along with your middle. It’s nowhere near how he does it, but him watching you like this turns you on beyond belief. The hunger in his eyes, the way he bites his lower lip, the way he clutches the tie around his palm. “Play with your clit again. Show me how you like it.” He rubs the bulge in his briefs, focused on your glistening cunt. With wet fingers, you massage your clit, drawing out quiet moans from your mouth. 

“Fuck, you’re incredible. You drive me crazy, you know that?” He shoves his underwear down to reveal his hard cock. No matter how many times you’ve seen him like this, the sight still amazes you. And seeing him erect with his dress shirt on is a kink you didn’t know you had until right now. He unravels the tie from his grip. A small whimper leaves your lips, anticipating his next move.

“Can I bind your wrists? Are you okay with that?” He crawls up the bed to kneel beside you, cupping your cheek tenderly as he asks for permission. 

You kiss his palm, smiling. “Yes. Let me take my clothes off first.” Your skin prickles with excitement as you pull the dress off and unhook your bra. He places your hands above you wrapping his spotted tie around your wrists, one over the other.

His lips curl into a wicked grin, his gaze ravenous as he looks you up and down. “I can’t believe you’re all mine.” He positions himself between your legs, leaning his face towards your arousal.  “Can I taste you?” 

Holy fuck. This is something you’ve fantasized about many times. You were uncomfortable asking him to do it, unsure if he was into it or not. Your ex never really offered; he tried it once, but it was barely memorable. So, you thought maybe it was too intimate of an action to ask your boyfriend of two months to do to you.

But it’s different now. You love each other. There’s no holding back.

In a trembling voice, you respond, “Yes. Please.”

He spreads you open and without hesitation, he starts with soft kisses to your puffy clit. You moan, stomach tight with pleasure as you rut against his face, his kisses getting sloppier and deeper with each passing second. He pushes himself even closer, latching around your sensitive bud, stimulating it with his plush tongue. It’s fucking amazing. You let yourself enjoy it until the rush of ecstasy sweeps through you, pulsing into his hot, slippery mouth. “Kento, I’m coming,” you gasp.

He hums into your skin as he sucks on your clit, unrelenting until you’re slack on the sheets, spent from your orgasm. His tongue licks along your plump folds, lapping up the slick from your high, drinking you up like he’s dehydrated. “You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs, as he fucks you with his mouth. You twitch at his touch, sensitive and yet, still so unbelievably horny for the man that you love.

“Fuck me, Kento. Please. Need you inside me,” you beg.

After one more flick of his tongue, he sits up on his knees. You see a pearl of precum leaking from the tip of his dick. He lets out a huff as he guides his cock to your slit, rubbing up and down your arousal. “You’re such good girl, fuck. I’m so lucky.” He continues to tease you, circling his cockhead around your clit as you squirm beneath him, bound wrists wriggling above your head. “I don’t have any lube, but we don’t need it. You came so much from just my tongue. This pretty pussy is so wet for me.” He strokes his dick as he stares wildly at your dripping cunt. 

You’re already close to your second orgasm when he slides his cock inside you, your walls surrounding his girth. Once his entire length is in, he places one hand on your inner thigh, the other at your side, clutching onto the bedsheets. You can tell you’re in for a ride. 

He starts slowly, pressing down on you gently to keep you open for him. Once you’re comfortably adjusted to his size, he speeds up. His lips tickle your ear as he whispers, “I’ve wanted this for so long. Been wanting to ruin this bed ever since I first slept in it.” 

You try to move your hips to match his rhythm, wrists still pinned above your head. All you can manage to choke out between your moans is, “Me too.” You wrap your free leg around his waist, wanting as much of your skin to be touching his. Being bound, you thought you’d be vulnerable, exposed. But with Nanami, you feel safe. You like being this open for him. He’d never do anything to hurt you. That’s one of the many reasons you love him.  

Overwhelmed with emotion and pleasure, tears well up in your eyes as he continues to make love to you. You face him, kissing him softly on the lips. He keeps still inside you, turning your body with his as he relaxes on the bed. The hand that was holding down your thigh comes up to caress your cheek as you continue to kiss. You stay like this for a while, basking in each other’s warmth. At some point, he reaches up to untie you from your bondage. At your release, you glide down his chest, cherishing his steady heartbeat.

“I love you,” he whispers between kisses. “I love you so much.”

Your voice catches in your throat. “I love you, too.”

He brushes your tears away, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Do you want to stop?”

You smile. “Not at all. These are happy tears. I’m happy.” He pulls you in closer, kissing you passionately, his cock still stiff inside you. Running your fingers through his hair, you say, “I told you earlier that I’ll let you do whatever you want with me. What do you want? Tell me, baby.” 

He thinks for a few seconds, gazing at you, full of love and lust. 

“I want you to ride me.”

~~~

Nanami lies down on the bed, watching the love of his life mount him, knees to both sides of him. They’ve never tried this before. While the sex has been nothing short of amazing these past two months, they’ve been hesitant to try new position, afraid of crossing any lines too soon. But there’s no denying that he’s been wanting this. And tonight is different. They love each other. They don’t have to hold back anymore. 

She leans down, breast in front of his face, so tempting and marvelous. He reaches for her tits, kneading at them, fondling her nipples with his thumbs. “Put them in my mouth,” he demands. She lets out a small whine as he raises his neck up to take her into his mouth, latching onto her nipple, sucking gently. 

“God, I love these tits,” he growls as he moves to the other one. He squeezes her breasts as he engulfs her sensitive teats. “All mine.”

“Fuck. Feels so good when you suck them like this.” When he starts sucking harder, she slowly pulls out, his lips making a popping sound at the release. She grinds her pussy on his lap, moaning. “I like it like this.” 

“Fuck,” he mutters, sticking out his tongue to receive her once more. “Feed it to me. Show me again how you like it.” He takes her again, his hands now on her waist, as she holds her breast for him. He sucks hard as she pulls out with another loud pop, nipple taut and plump when he releases her, shiny with his spit. His dick twitches beneath her; the need to be inside her is undeniable, unbearable if he waits any longer. 

“Ride me,” he spits out, planting his feet on the bed.

She pushes her ass back, feeling for his cock, rubbing her folds over the tip until it’s at her entrance, sinking onto him easily. Once he bottoms out, she starts thrusting back and forth. She leans over him, gripping the sheets on either side of his head, tits bouncing with every shake of her ass. He grabs her hips, reveling how expertly she rides him. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful. You’re incredible like this, fucking yourself on my cock.”

“Kento. So good, oh my god,” she cries out, picking up the pace. 

He tightens his hold on her hips and starts moving with her, timing his thrusts with hers. She buries her face into his neck, whimpering as she takes it. “Can you come one more time for me, baby?” he purrs. “Let me do it. Let daddy take care of you.” 

As if those are the magic words, she lets out a luscious moan, trembling around him. “Fuck, daddy. Fuck me. Make me come.”

He squeezes her ass as he dives into her, deeper than he’s ever been before, her incoherent babbling a sign that he’s hitting her sweet spot. His body buzzes with delight and pleasure, knowing he’s making her unravel on his cock. He continues to pump into her relentlessly, his muscles spasming with each deep thrust he gives her. She continues to bounce her ass on his cock in perfect sync with him until she tightens around him. She’s close, and so is he. He slips his hand between them, thumb grazing her swollen clit. 

“Kento, I’m coming!” she whines into his neck. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

He’s dizzy with ecstasy as she clenches around him, fucking her until he comes too, filling her up with his load, the excess leaking out of her fluttering hole and onto his lap. He only just remembers that he’s still in his dress shirt; he never bothered taking it off. Looking between them to inspect the damage, he finds a few spots where their cum bleeds into the hem of his shirt. 

She relaxes on top of him, breath shallow against his chest. He massages her back, cradling her in his arms. They stay like this for a moment, both exhausted from their intense love making. She rolls off him to lay at his side, eyes closed, smiling. “I love you, Kento.”

He leans in to kiss her forehead. “I love you, too.”

He’ll never get tired of hearing it. He’ll never get tired of saying it.

They love each other. All is right with the world.  

Tag List: @chiyoso @bloombb @liliorsstuff-blog

[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar (Part 8 - Final Part)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: slight arguing

words: 3.2k

Summary: Jake has one last try to fix it with you and he was gonna make sure to give it his all. Go big or go home, isn’t that what they say?

a/n: Here it is, the final part of my series. How did we get here? It's crazy! Thank you all SO MUCH for all the likes, reblogs and comments, they mean the world to me!! I hope you like this chapter!

Link to my masterlist

It’s been over a week and you haven’t seen or heard anything from your favorite group. They all had become friends to you and with Hangman, you would also get there eventually.

You got increasingly nervous and as well as Penny tried to hide it, she did too. Maverick being part of the mission seemingly wasn’t planned as to what she had told you and now that he was, made the whole thing even scarier. If they needed someone as experienced as him…you didn’t want to think about what they had to do and where they had to go.

You only knew one thing for sure, you had definitely seen too many action and disaster movies to uphold any state of calm.

Showing up for work and getting through a shift was your only constant right now and you held on to it for dear life. Fuck, you really hadn’t realized how much every single one of those idiots had found their way into your heart.

It was shortly after you had begun your shift on a Thursday when you heard familiar voices coming from the entrance. When you looked up, you saw Rooster first and then the others in their khaki uniforms following him into the bar. Your whole face lit up and you had a bubbly feeling in your stomach.

You got out from behind the bar and ran over to them. “You’re back!”, you exclaimed excitedly and hugged Phoenix first. Then you went on to hug everybody and greeted them with a kiss to the cheek, so happy to see them back in this bar, alive and well.

You looked behind them, searching for Jake but nobody was coming in after them. Your heart sank and you felt a twist in your gut. The smile dropped from your face.

“He’s fine. He’s coming over later”, Rooster eased your mind and put his hand on your shoulder for comfort. You wished you weren’t that relieved to hear that because that meant you cared more for Jake Seresin than it was good for you.

“And you’re all fine? Nothing broken, nothing missing?”, you asked them and checked their faces for bruises and their bodies for any missing parts. “We’re all good”, Rooster laughed off your concerns. “But we’re all quite thirsty”, Fanboy stepped forward. “Of course, come with me”, you smiled and motioned them to follow you. Rooster put an arm around your shoulders and you placed your arm around his middle as you walked to the bar circle together.

“First round tonight is on me for our heroes”, you said as they all lined up at the counter and you grabbed bottle after bottle of beer, placing them in front of each one.

It got quite busy quite quickly at the Hard Deck and at the moment, you handled the circle alone. What would have led to a complete meltdown on your part just a few weeks ago, you now handled with some sort of grace and calm. At least you’d liked to think so.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you watched a man in a suit taking a seat at the counter, looking already annoyed. He looked so out of place here that it was almost funny.

"Hey, get me a scotch", he demanded more so than he asked. No please, no smile, whatsoever.

"I'll be right with you", you told him and didn't let his tone get to you. You were in the middle of serving a group of ten and had your hands full.

"How long is this going to take?", he called out in your direction after waiting for just 2 seconds. "Just a second", you said as politely as you could and even shot him a kind smile which was met by furrowed brows and a more than annoyed expression on his face.

"Hey girl, can I get another round for the table?", Rooster appeared at the counter next to you, using the nickname he had heard Phoenix and you use for each other. "Sure, just a moment", you told him, knowing he would have no problem waiting.

"Hey, lady. How much longer for my drink? What kind of service do you offer in this joint?", he asked full on angry.

You looked over at the suit, ready to say something to him, but then you saw his phone laying on the counter and had a better idea.

You looked over at Rooster who had followed your eyes over to that douchebag and then looked at you. You gave him a wink and then walked over to the sign Penny had hung up.

“May I divert your attention here for a moment?”, you asked him and gestured elegantly at the sign like you were the prize lady at a game show.

You gave him a few seconds while his eyes flew over the words carved into the wooden plague before you rang the bell.

A cheer erupted across the bar. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, he asked in an intimidated yet aggressive tone. “Means you’re paying a round for the whole place”, Rooster appeared next to the suit. Without a word you handed him a bottle of beer.

“Much appreciated”, he toasted the guy with a smirk. “I’m not paying for shit!”, the guy exclaimed with furrowed brows. You looked over at Rooster with a satisfied grin. You had expected that answer.

“Overboard?”, he asked. “Overboard”, you confirmed with a little nod. “Ah, I always wanted to say that: Hold my beer!”, he exclaimed excitedly and handed you the bottle. Rooster whistled and motioned to the pool table and was quickly joined by Payback and Coyote.

You rang the bell once more and he called out “OVERBOARD!”. The whole room joined in on the chant. The guy’s face changed from rage to honest concern as the three tall men surrounded him. They grabbed his arms and legs and carried him out the back door to the deck and threw him into the sand.

“Come back when you found your manners”, you called after him and laughed as you watched him getting flung off the deck.

When you turned around, you found yourself face to face with Hangman and froze, but only for a second. “Same goes for you”, you told him as the smile dropped from your face, sure that he had just witnessed the moment before.

You looked him up and down, checking for any bruises or injuries but you gladly didn’t find any, just like Rooster had told you earlier.

You thought that him being gone for over a week would ease your mind about the whole situation, assuring yourself that you had found your inner peace with Jake and his stupidity. But no. Right when you saw his face, it all came back to you.

You wanted to walk to the other side of the bar circle but Jake’s hand reached over the counter, grabbing your arm. “Wait, Y/N, can we talk?”, he asked with a hopeful expression on his face. You looked at his hand on your arm and then up to his face. “You’ll be next if you don’t let go”, you said with a nod towards where the suit had landed in the sand. He let go of your arm and held his hands up, showing that he would play along.

"We already talked", you told him and walked half the circle to the other end of the bar. Jake followed you. "We're not done", he told you in return. "Oh, we're so done", you said and Jake heard the double meaning in your words.

“Listen, I’m glad you’re okay, I really am, but turns out, I’m still mad at you”, you told him straight out.

He took a deep breath before he walked around the edge of the counter and behind the bar.

"Y/N, I need you to listen to me", he said and his voice had an urgent undertone.

"Hangman, what have I told you about being behind that bar?", you heard Penny behind you, who had appeared out of nowhere.

"I just need two minutes", Jake told her and the pleading look in his eyes made her tolerate his presence behind the counter. For now. She turned away and took care of the customers waiting for their drinks.

"You got two minutes", you told him as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. He just looked at you, seemingly lost for words all of a sudden.

"119, 118...", you started counting backwards. "Okay, okay", he stopped you by holding his hands up in defense. “I was acting like an idiot”, he said and paused. “I’m not disagreeing”, you told him as he didn’t continue talking right away.

“But so were you”, he said and you looked at him with big eyes at the unexpected words. “Excuse me?”, you asked in disbelief, putting your hands on your hips.

“You said you were over it which was clearly a lie. And then you go on to say that we would just go back to being a bartender and a customer, which is bullshit. We are friends. And as a friend I messed up, I know that. And I will never stop apologizing for it, but…”, he suddenly stopped himself in his tirade.

You just looked at him with big eyes, your heart beating faster with his every word.

“When I was away, I thought about you constantly. And when the mission went well, you were the first person I wanted to call. And I finally realized that I…I, uhm…”, he paused again, seemingly mustering up the courage which was an odd state to see Hangman in.

You just looked at him, holding your breath, not daring to speak.

“Y/N, I want to be more than friends with you”, he finally said and it felt like time stood still for a moment. Your eyes focused in on his and the pleading look that was in them and the hopeful smile on his lips took your breath away.

You wanted to believe him. You wanted it so bad. But with everything that had happened between the two of you and also everything that had happened to you in your past, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Jake”, you said and the almost apologizing tone in your voice made the smile drop from his face.

“You don’t believe me”, he said, a resigned tone in his voice. “I mean, how could I? You kiss me and the next day you act like you don’t even know me? How’s a girl supposed to feel with something like that?”, you told him and hoped that this was explanation enough.

“And my words don’t matter?”, he asked in return. You just looked at him, not knowing what to say.

“Your time is up, Hangman”, Penny called out from the other end and she didn’t know how right she was.

“I’m sorry”, now it was your turn to apologize. It surprised you how much turning him down actually hurt you. It should make you feel better, make you feel somewhat empowered but it didn’t.

You turned around and walked over to a new customer sitting at the counter. “Hi, what can I get…”, you started.

“Hey! Can I have everybody’s attention for a moment?”, you heard Jake behind you, yelling to tune out the chatter and laughter in the bar.

When you turned around, you found him standing on the bar counter. Your eyes got big and a shocked expression washed over your face.

“Hi, I’m Jake. Most of you know me as Hangman”, he began and the people around quieted down bit by bit. Someone even unplugged the jukebox.

“What the hell are you doing?”, you quickly came over and hissed at him, but he ignored you.

“Everybody that knows me knows that I can be a real asshole sometimes”, he continued. “Yeah, no shit”, Rooster called out from the back and some people chuckled.

“Thanks, Rooster”, he nodded in his direction. “But I really messed up this time because I was stupid enough to hurt this beautiful woman right here”, he said and pointed to you by his feet.

Your cheeks turned bright red as you found the whole bar looking at you.

“Jake, get down there. You're embarrassing yourself. But most importantly, me”, you hissed at him, grabbing his ankle. You would have loved nothing more than to just yank him off this bar and end this charade.

“She doesn’t believe me that I actually like her and I can’t blame her for it. But I need her to understand that I really do like her, very much”, he said and looked at you with a hand on his heart when he said it.

Normally, you would have rolled your eyes at a cheesy gesture like that but for the first time ever in your life, a cheesy gesture happened to you. It felt like you had an outer-body experience, watching yourself watching Hangman. This wasn’t actually happening to you, was it?

“And that’s why I’m using this, arguably, very drastic move to officially ask you to please go out on a date with me?”, he asked.

You knew that every single pair of eyes in this room were looking at you right now and you never hated Jake more than this moment. You loathed being the center of attention and for him to put you on blast like that…

But at the same time, you thought about the fact that never in your life had someone done something like that for you.

“Come on, Y/N, say yes”, you heard someone from the back of the room. Probably Coyote. “Say yes”, you heard someone else from the other side. You glared up at Jake, chewing the inside of your cheek. He looked back at you with a hopeful expression.

“Will you finally come down if I say yes?”, you asked loudly so that the people could hear it. “Then, and only then”, he said and a smile played around his lips.

“Okay, I’ll go on a date with you”, you finally agreed. “She said yes!”, he called out with a big smile and the whole place erupted into cheers.

“Good god”, you mumbled under your breath and felt your cheeks burning.

Jake hopped off the counter and stood next to you. Someone plugged the jukebox back in and the room was filled with music again. The chatter started back up and in a matter of seconds the bar was back to its old self.

“You know you’re crazy”, you said. “Crazy about you”, he said and put his hands on your hips, pulling you in a little bit. For some reason, you let him. A flutter moved through your stomach. Your arms automatically flung around his neck.

It felt like your stomach was full of butterflies. What was happening right now? Five minutes ago, you were mad at him and now you’re swooning?

“But you realize how embarrassing that was? For both of us”, you told him off.

“You’ve said you liked gestures”, he countered. You were surprised that he remembered what you had told him when you were trapped here in this bar on that stormy night.

“Small gestures like remembering the flowers I like or how I drink my coffee”, you reminded and lectured him at the same time.

He rolled his eyes at you playfully, looking up at the ceiling for a moment and then back at you.

“How do you like your coffee?”, he asked with a smile. “Nonexistent. I don't drink coffee”, you answered him and patted his chest with your hand before you stepped out of his embrace, attempting to get back to work.

“But you just said...”, he said in disbelief. "It was an example, Jake. Good god! Normally you're a bit quicker than that”, you teased him and couldn’t hold back the chuckle.

He reached out with his hand, hooked two fingers in the hem of your apron that was tied around your waist and pulled you close to him.

“You’re killing me”, he said and a smirk played around his lips. “A girl can try”, you shrugged your shoulders and shot him a wink and a grin before he bent down and kissed you.

The smile was wiped off you face rather quickly. He managed to surprise you one more time tonight.

You heard some cheers in the faint background but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

You flung your arms around his neck again, sinking into his embrace. You felt his hands roaming your back and you got on your tiptoes to be even closer to him.

“Alright, alright, enough with the show”, you heard behind you and reluctantly let go of Jake. He smiled at your lips before he let go as well to find Penny standing next to you.

��As lovely as this is, you’re still behind my bar”, she said to Jake. “And you are actually working right now”, she added towards you. The smile on her face took the harshness out of her words.

“Sorry, Penny”, you said and smiled apologetically. She looked at the two of you once more before she got back to the other end of the circle.

“Are you free this Saturday?”, he asked as he walked out behind the counter and leaned against it on the other side, giving you a big smile. You both felt giddy from your kiss.

“I doubt I get a Saturday off. How about a Tuesday-date? Those seem to work for us”, you asked and reminded him of the stormy night after you had met in the diner where you had your date with Joseph. You pulled a beer out of the cooler, opened it and moved it over to Jake.

“Sounds like a plan”, he agreed and grabbed his drink with a wink. Before he was able to walk over to his friends at the pool table, you reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him close to your face.

“Don’t make me regret this, Hangman”, you told him with a low voice and pressed a quick peck to his lips before you shoved him back with a smirk. “Never”, he shook his head with a smile and winked at you again before he walked over to the pool table.

“You can take your 10 if you want”, Penny appeared next to you again. She was really quick on her feet tonight. Or you were just super distracted.

When you looked over to her you saw her gesturing towards Hangman who was talking to Rooster. Right when you looked over, so did he and his face lit up immediately, giving you another wink.

You thought about it for a second then a smile appeared on your face.

“He got his date. He can wait”, you told her and in response, she bumped her hips into yours with a chuckle and attended to some new customers.

You resumed to handing out drinks as well and got about 3 customers done until you suddenly looked up in nervous realization.

You had agreed to go on a date with Jake Hangman Seresin. How the hell did that happen?

a/n: You really thought I would let you guys hanging here? Well, you should know me better by now.

YOU WILL GET THE DATE!

I'm currently writing their date, it will be a 3-part add-on to this story. I'm not quite sure when I will be able to post it but it will surely be a few weeks.

Until then, have fun re-reading the chapters or check out my other stories on my masterlist!

[notjustjavierpena]

Hate had me in a puddle.

… is there more??

Hurt

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Oh, there’s always more if you ask nicely. This is a follow-up to Hate! Ravenous mean!Joel returns!

Summary: Joel accidentally makes you come after making it his mission for a month to not let you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), dub-con, dirty talk, painful and rough piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, possessive joel, fingering

Word count: 1.4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48179338/chapters/122332696#workskin

Hurt

Joel comes back a few times that month after leaving you breathless and pathetically masturbating on the wooden floor of your home. He still takes and takes; fills you up, smacks your face if you get too close and leaves you with an unsatisfied throbbing cunt. It’s beginning to drive you up the wall, because you find yourself touching your cunt more often lately at the thought of him finally letting you squeeze around his cock during climax. You’d even had a day where your clit hurt in the end from your relentless pursuit of coming and coming and coming until your head swam and you could fall asleep without dreaming about his face. 

Which makes it ironic that the next time that you see him is when he is hovering above you and disturbing your sleep. The ambush is going to happen in your bedroom this time, and you curse him for somehow already knowing that you are trying to make him stop haunting your dreams. Why else would he choose here and now?

It’s the middle of the night, so your pulse spikes as he wakes you, but before you can scream, he has a hand over your mouth and is ripping the covers off of you. He smiles devilishly as he realizes that you sleep naked, and you don’t want to think about how many scenarios that has just unlocked in his head. 

“Hey pretty thing,” he growls whilst already undoing his belt and zipper to shove his jeans and underwear down to free his cock. You look down to see that it’s already hard and throbbing, wondering briefly if he has been debating with himself whether to break and enter or take care of it himself. He seems in a hurry so you guess that he has indeed been touching himself, much to your satisfaction, but his expression reveals that he is also angry. You like him angry. 

By instinct, you let your legs fall to the side until your knees almost hit the mattress. Carefully, you reach up to peel the hand away from your mouth so you can let out a soft gasp as he enters you. His size hurts like always and causes your eyes to sting with tears. He is stretching your unprepared cunt out around every bump of the veins along his length. 

You can feel yourself start to get wet as you take him in further, putting a hand on his chest to slow him down, but bracing yourself for his loss of patience that’ll eventually come. 

“You’re gonna stop crying about this like you didn’t know it was coming,” he spits harshly as he bottoms out with a rough thrust of his hips. New tears spring to your eyes, but you rapidly blink them away, “That’s it, don’t let me see a single fucking tear on that face like you’re sorry.”

He brutally fucks you into the mattress with frustration in his moans. You get used to the pain quickly as your slick starts dripping from you, running out of you onto the bed with each pound of his cock. There’s no way of slowing him down anyway, each of his hands finding a knee and pinning your legs down so roughly that you think he might dislocate your hip joints. 

“Fuck. What have I done now?” You rile him up, reaching down to hold his wrists and, hopefully, loosen his grip just a little by pulling. It doesn’t loosen whatsoever.

Something in his eyes go darker, one of them twitching slightly at the snarky comment that you’ve thrown his way. You gasp in relief as the hands move up, the left one on your hip to hold you down and his right one wrapping firmly around your neck. He squeezes, and that is certainly not what you had expected. Both of your hands come up to try and pull it away. 

“You and your smart mouth,” he pushes his palm into your windpipe, watching your mouth fall open in a silent moan as he still drills into you, “The girls told me that you are going on patrol with that new guy. They were all stupid and giggly. Thinking of letting him fuck you in one of the safe houses, huh? That it, you little bitch?”

You shake your head with heavy lids, head swimming as the amount of oxygen going to your head has decreased significantly. He leans down further to intimidatingly get in your face, and suddenly his pelvis grinds against your mound, stimulating your clit. You cannot tell him due to actually choking slightly, but you have no intention of letting him know either way.

“Fuck you for even thinking in that stupid little brain of yours that you’re allowed to do that,” he flexes his hand on your throat to grip harder, causing you to moan loudly for just a second before it’s cut off again. He is spurred on by that, grinning maniacally into your face whilst moaning too. 

The headboard starts slamming against the wall then, his pace dropping to something slower, but his thrusts are rougher, “Look at me… We are never gonna be wedding bells and domestic bliss, but you don’t ever let anyone else but me screw this pretty and fucking infuriating cunt.”

So that’s his deal; he doesn’t want you, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have and fuck you either. It makes you want to tell him that since he is the one coming each time you are the one screwing him. 

Joel Miller is a fucking psycho. 

A psycho that’s about to make you come with the desperate rhythm that he is keeping up, chasing something you guess is proof that he owns your body. He is panting above you, losing himself in the moment with you and not noticing the way that your body is climbing to a high - a thing that he has never allowed you. 

If he doesn’t let go of your throat soon, you think you might pass out, but there’s no way that you are going to distract him from using you and hopefully, accidentally, making you see stars for once. You cannot bear the thought of finishing the night off by making yourself come and letting him leave like he was just a dream. 

Then it happens, your face and chest going red as you feel yourself tip over the edge with him slamming into you. His hand lets go as the first signs of your orgasm hits him, and the sudden rush of adrenaline and oxygen to your brain has you sobbing out of pleasure to the point where people should come running to see if you’re in danger. You squeeze rhythmically and rapidly around his length, causing his eyes to widen as he realizes that he has made you climax and before he knows it, he is coming as well.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says to himself as he settles inside of you and fills you up like all the previous times. Though this time, you don’t feel like an object to use but rather a human being that he has melted together with. You wish you could read his mind in this moment. He looks taken aback by himself. 

You try to catch your breath, whimpering as he quickly pulls out and frantically tucks himself away, so he can get dressed again. He doesn’t look at you before you reach down to hold a hand over your spent cunt, all red and puffy for him, pushing a finger inside yourself with a tiny gasp as you play with his come. God, you want a reaction. 

“Stop,” he snaps. There’s conflict behind his eyes.

“What?” You continue fingering yourself, “Don’t you like me like this?” 

“I’ll make it hurt,” he warns, “Don’t fucking try me.”

Hurt? You furrow your brow in confusion but Joel just settles between your spread legs again, batting your hand away. He shoves two fingers inside of you without mercy and causes you to moan with the over sensitivity that still has a hold of your body. 

“I can’t stop now,” he says, expertly pressing the pads of his fingers up against your g-spot, “Gonna make it hurt real good now that I know how that look in your eye changes when you come.”

“Please, yes,” you lift your hips up from the bed slightly and his come seeps past his fingers and down onto the mattress. 

“You won’t be saying yes forever,” he notes, setting up a rhythm that has you arching off the bed immediately, “You don’t have a clue what you’ve started. Now try to keep quiet or I’ll stuff my fist in your dumb mouth.”

[beauty-and-passion]

Love Olympus: the "charming" lessons we learned from it

Hi! Are you searching for a good story, filled with creativity, care, coherence and beautiful art style? Then please, turn left and you will find something worth your time.

Here we will talk about that beautiful, terrible disaster that is Lore Olympus. Ah, it's always so nice to read a new retelling of Greek mythology and find out it's basically the same 200 stereotypes slapped together into something that's way older and staler than the original. What did my ancestor ever do to the world, to be treated like that.

But I've already talked about what a waste of potential Lore Olympus is, how pathetic the writing is and how bad the protagonists are. I've spent more than enough words commenting on why this series could've been great and came out like this.

Now there's only one thing left: to make fun of it. To draw our conclusions on the whole thing and the finale and find out what "wonderful" messages we got from it.

Don't worry: the messages are absolutely wonderful and I'm not sarcastic, not at aaaaall.

_______________________________

Planning in advance is for the weak

Don't you know how to fill your third season, after the "battle" that closed season 2? No problem! People will read you anyway, so instead of planning and moving the plot forward, waste everyone's time writing chapter after chapter of pure nothingness: your characters can have discussions so stupid, that people will question if they have been written by using ChatGPT. That will surely prove what a great writer you are!

And don't worry too much about the plot: just wait until inspiration magically falls from the sky. That's how it works, isn't it? Stories are just random events slapped together, with no planning, care or coherence whatsoever. When we write a story, we don't want to treat our readers like intelligent human beings, oh no: people are idiots, so we can just throw them the first shit that pops out of our minds and everything will be fine.

_______________________________

Coherence is for the weak

After waiting for inspiration (that somehow hasn't fallen from the sky yet, jeez I wonder why), you still don't know what to do with your plot? Easy, use one of the villains! Like the rapist guy! Now he's running for President.

Yes, we know there is a monarchy in this land, because there is a king, but it doesn't matter. The rapist is trying to be President now. President of what, you ask? It doesn't matter! Presidents exist, right? So he's trying to be one, that's all you need to know.

Will he become President? He's running from it, that's all! You don't need to know what happens after that! As we all know, stories do not have closed plot points, they're just random shit thrown around. So why care about solving a problem you just raised? Just forget it, it's not important.

Is the story supposed to take place in Olympus or, at least, in Greece? Well, what's the problem? As we all know, Europe and the US are basically the same thing, so how different can Greece and America be?

I mean: one is a huge country with many climate zones and wide areas, the other is a small, hot country mostly made of mountains and islands. One has a millennia-years-old culture that influenced the entirety of the West, the other is literally called the New World, to emphasize how young it is. Same place.

So, since they're so similar they're basically identical, just fill your Greece with American stuff and give your characters English names. Greece is notoriously full of English names. It's not like there are millions of people with similar names because parents give their own parents' names to their offspring and sometimes all siblings give their parents' names to all their children and the result is that your cousins all have the same goddamn name and you all came up with nicknames to distinguish between them.

No, that's not based on personal experience, what makes you think that.

_______________________________

The protagonist is better than anyone else

Is Zeus telling you he wants to give his child to some nymphs, because he knows won't be a good father? Well, clearly the most normal thing to do is steal his baby. No, not because you're a psychopath, but because you clearly know how to handle the baby better than some nymphs. Remember: you are the protagonist, hence you are better at everything anyone can do, especially a stupid nymph. You will care for the baby more and better than anyone else, no doubt.

Is the child you stole running around without supervision? But you took care of him! You even hired a babysitter! No, of course you didn't spend time with him, you were busy! What? It could've been better to leave the child with the nymphs as Zeus wanted, because at least they would've spent their time with the child and not hired someone else to do it? Listen, we don't work with logic here and you are the protagonist, so of course all of your decisions are perfect and should never be questioned.

Speaking of kids: is your mother telling you she had a son who died? Time for some favoritism! Your husband is the god of the dead, so death isn't a problem anymore. What? Death is supposed to be impossible to overcome? But you're the protagonist, so the mere mortals' rules do not apply to you. Death is nothing, compared to your perfection.

Oh no, you accidentally caused winter! And a genocide! But remember: you're the protagonist, so of course you're always perfect. And you didn't do it on purpose, so you're automatically innocent and people attacking you are just mean and jealous.

See? You're so perfect, you found a way to solve the problem! How? Easy, by believing in yourself ✨✨✨ And by talking (badly) about how life and death are linked. Yes, we know it's the equivalent of saying that 2+2=4, but we don't want to treat our readers like intelligent people, here. All they have to do is just revel in your perfection.

_______________________________

More villains! Because Yes!

Do you still have no idea what to do with your plot, after too many useless chapters? Easy, use the cartoonish supervillain! He will do the trick! And throw another naked woman to defeat him: it worked once, it'll work again.

Is your cartoonish supervillain actually useless? No problem, make another villain even more useless. And make him appear out of thin air for two chapters. And since readers are stupid, just tell them that he was the evil mastermind behind everything. They'll eat it up.

Oh, and President Loser is in cahoots with SuperMegaVillain now. Why? Because Yes, of course.

You don't know how to defeat SuperMegaVillain? 🧑‍🤝‍🧑Avengers Assemble🧑‍🤝‍🧑and you're done. It worked for Marvel, it'll work for your story too. I know it's settled in Greece and fertility goddesses do not have resurrection powers or whatever the fuck they're doing, but shhhhh.

_______________________________

Random justice is good

With all those villains to defeat, you forgot your story is supposed to be a retelling of the myth of Hades and Persephone? No problem, just stick a "Gaia Ex-Machina" here and let her solve the story with a power and authority she doesn't have. No one will notice the difference.

Speaking of justice: is the rapist gonna get the punishment he deserves? Sure, get this: he will fall in love with you and turn himself in. And he will get community service as punishment.

Are you saying that this isn't a real punishment? But of course it is! He turned himself in! The victim isn't allowed to expose him, nor to see him actually getting punished. All the victim can do is walk away. It's not that lack of control is a big deal for a rape victim, right? And seeing the rapist finally get punished won't give them the catharsis they need, right? And it definitely won't free them of the huge weight they carry on, because of the awful, horrible act they suffered from, right?

Of course not, so ah ah ah, the rapist gets to build places, very funny. And aside from that stupid punishment, of course he's free to walk around and, who knows?, maybe rape someone else. Wow, justice truly works well in this place! I would feel so safe to go around there!

_______________________________

Queer people are stupid too (and ghosts, sometimes)

All those villains could've been great in a story centered around Zeus? We don't work with Zeus here: we hate men, all men except for the capitalist hubby of our dreams. So Zeus is a useless piece of shit and he will keep being a useless piece of shit until the end. Also, he's not a real king anymore, because apparently democracy popped out of nowhere and everyone just rolls with it. I wonder why it too centuries to accept it all over the world...

And Hera is a lesbian now. Why? I already told you we don't work with logic here. She's a lesbian because queer people are idiots too, so thrown them a queer character and they will like it, doesn't matter if it makes zero sense.

Uh? Are you saying that asexual and aromantic people exist too? No, of course not: they're just waiting for the hot lesbian of their dreams or for the hubby that will turn them into wives and mothers.

Hence why the organization centered around celibacy closed: it was just a cover for lesbians after all! And we all know that women can only be lesbians or mothers. A woman doesn't want or feel any romantic attraction? She doesn't exist, then.

Wow people, I don't exist! I'm a ghost!

_______________________________

Feminism means gender stereotypes

As Wikipedia says, feminism is:

"... a range of socio-political movements and ideologies that aim to define and establish the political, economic, personal, and social equality of the sexes."

But Wikipedia is stupid, while we won a shit ton of prizes for some reason, so we're the good authors here. And we decided that feminism means "women good, men bad". This definitely isn't a point of view based on a warping of the original concept of feminism, that focused on helping women because, since societies are patriarchal, men already have a powerful position. Hence why, feminism fought (and fights) to give women a powerful position too: to make both genders on the same plane.

But nope, this is all stupid and wrong and doing research is underrated - after all, we wrote a story entirely based on the first shit that popped into our mind, so why do research about this? Let's focus on the superficial vision of feminism and fight for women's equality, by making them lesbians or mothers.

Because sure, feminism is good, but capitalism is better. And since capitalism wants you to have kids, go home to your rich hubby and have a ton of kids you definitely won't neglect, like the child you stole or the supposed godson you never cared about and only after he's an adult "sometimes" you have a conversation with. That's how a perfect, traditional family works, after all. And we know this didn't lead to any generational trauma at aaaaall.

_______________________________

In conclusion

I don't know if you noticed the teeny tiny veil of sarcasm in my words. I know, it was so subtle, almost invisible. I made it oh-so-hard to find it, please let me know how hard it was.

But you know what? This story is over and I needed to let some sarcasm out. I am finally free to read something else, possibly (hopefully!) better.

And the next time I will approach another retelling... who am I kidding, I know I will fall for it like an idiot because that's what I do every time. They get me with something I love and once I find out it's shitty, I keep reading because I want to see how bad it is.

In this, Lore Olympus didn't disappoint: I expected something bad, I got something bad. And, sometimes, it was so bad, to make me laugh, so extra points for the stupidity: I appreciate something that makes me laugh, way more than something that makes me angry.

And, as I said in my previous posts, even something bad is useful, because it teaches you how NOT to do something.

So thank you, Lore Olympus, for being a terrible teacher. And thank you for making me appreciate the original myths even more. There's a reason why they still stand after millennials and can still capture the popular imagination, while this series will probably be forgotten in a couple years.

To you all, my readers: if you managed to reach the end of LO like me, congrats for surviving it, I hope you learned something useful about how to make better art.

But if you never approached Lore Olympus, don't do it: it's not worth the time you will lose.

Unless you want to see with your own eyes how does it look a story with zero planning and random ideas thrown everywhere. In that case, please, be my guest: read it and learn how not to write. You will learn a lot from this.

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(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

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[san8ny]

FINISHING AT EIGHT OR NINE ?

!: First chapter of this introduction: PROLOGUE

?: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader - SFW - Stalker!Ellie

Ring! Ring!

The phone calls, causing you to rise from the high-chair you sit by near a counter, chilled AC blaring cool air from it’s vents while you shiver. You didn’t complain however, this being one of the only jobs you’d actually secured with your resume consisting of goat-hearding, plowing fields with no real training whatsoever. Upon answering and reaching for the phone, a somewhat grumpy man answers, asking if there were lumber planks he could pick up for a project. You ask for a name, crouching down to grab the notepad and pen placed away in a small cubby.

Joel Miller.

Jotting it down, you ask for a total amount of planks to which he asks for a dozen. You nod, twelve.

“Alright, and will that be a pick up or would you want it delivered? I will say, we have a large influx of orders out currently so our delivery services won’t get to you until tomorrow evening.”

He mumbles a few incoherent phrases away from the phone-reciever, likely speaking to someone else before returning to it, “My daughter will pick them up actually.” You give him the okay, jokingly commenting on it’s usual for people to go with the pick up option to lessen the charges of the total cost but he doesn’t seem amused, scruffing out a blunt bye before abruptly hanging up.

Rude.

In around ten minutes, a rusted truck pulls up infront of the shop; In what seems like a tee, some muddy sneakers and a cap was a woman, hopping out of the vehicle, and lightly jogging to the front door. She taps on it once, pointing a finger to the lock with an inconvenience expression.

Right, it was locked.

You mouth a small sorry, walking over to let her in as you open the glass door. “I’m so sorry, it’s late so I usually lock the doors unless I know someone is coming.” You say a bit embarrassed at your lack of attention. She dismisses you with a small wave, cracking a smile before speaking, “It’s alright.”

She’s average height, slightly maybe even shorter than your own frame. Leading her to where the order was stacked and ready to go, you assist her in carrying it back to her car. She lets out a long breath, thanking you for the help. You reassure her it’s fine, that’s it’s apart of the job. Before she can even take out her wallet, you’re leaving. Huh?

You’re actually clueless of your surroundings that it strikes something in the other woman. She eyes you for a moment while you retreat back into the shop, clicking her tongue in confusion when you immediately lock it and return to the magazine you were busying yourself with. You really did forget. Ellie wasn’t dumb. Anyone with eyes could see you weren’t from here, and frankly, she hoped you weren’t always this forgetful. Instead of reminding you, she revs the truck up and goes on her merry way.

You’d learn after this

Ellie tells herself at the redlight, fishing out a cigarette from the glovebox.

Oh, did you learn.

You were given quite the earful when you informed your manager about the incident the next morning, only even remembering when checking the cash register before closing the previous night. Fuck, I didn’t charge them.

Abby Anderson was quite the powerhouse, shaking your shoulders in anger when you broke the news you’d been scammed out of a good 120 bucks. She sighs, peering down at your remorseful face, your bottom lip quivering in guilt at your own wistful mistakes. “Alright, ‘gimme a name. Our shop doesn’t get all that many new customers often so I can probably recognize and tab them before dad gets a whiff of this.”

Miller.

Abby leans her body over the counter when you say that, resting her forearms on it’s cold surface as she lets a scoff out, “Joel Miller?” You nod in reaffirmation from where you stood with crossed arms meekly. She squints her eyes in disbelief, shaking her head ever so slightly trying to make sense of it all. Joel was a man with a temper for sure, but he wasn’t no thief.

She quickly grabs your wrist and the plentiful keys that hang on the nailed wall, “They live in your apartments, we’re getting that money.”

Abby quickly exits the shop with you behind her, flipping the sign on the window CLOSED before scurrying to meet her pace down the street. Thankfully, your building wasn’t that far away from work, however, now you had to make it known to yourself that you likely resided in the same complex as kleptomaniacs.

Abby knocks on the door that reads 207, waiting for a response. It seems like forever that you two stand there waiting, getting even tired that you opt to sit down on the carpeted hallway floor. Eventually, it’s cracked open by the same woman you recognized yesterday to have picked up the order. You scatter to stand up, pointing a finger behind Abby’s broad shoulder, “It’s her!” You shriek, to which the girl looks you up and down. “I have a name.” She spits out annoyed, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, Yeah. You tried punking my employee, Williams. That the shit you’ve lowered yourself to?” Abby equally retorts venomously. Ellie shrugs, “I ain’t do that. She didn’t ask for the money so I assumed it was paid for or ‘sum.”

You immediately drop your jaw, how could she justify that? She knew it wasn’t paid for! “Joel called and said you’d pick it up and I have the call log so don’t even.”

She seemingly rolls her eyes again, leaving the door before returning with a wallet, “Quit bitching in my ear and name your price. Jesus.” Abby’s eye twitches ever so slightly at the audacious act put on; “120 and don’t call me a bitch.”

“Actually, I didn’t call you one, I said—! “

Abby snatches the money anyways, forcing you to follow her like a kicked puppy as she trudges towards the elevator and practically punches the button. Once it arrives and you both step in, she rubs her face with a calloused palm in an attempt to soothe the irritation away.

“Ask for money next time. We don’t have pre-paid shit.” Before you can even respond back, you’re both exiting the cart, and the building— walking back to the shop.

While you believe it was done and over, Ellie watches you two from her bedroom window. Something ever so slightly glosses over her eyes when she watches you walk with Abby, obviously struggling to meet her fast-pace. Maybe it’s the weed she’s smoking, or maybe it’s something deeper. However, something about you rubs Ellie, and she can’t tell for the life of her if she likes it or not.

In the span of that very same week, she finds out your name and where you reside, and just her luck, it’s close!

So very close.

Ellie emphasizes, watching you tiredly slug past her unit door through the peephole a couple minutes past 9 everynight.

[pars-ley]

Title: Come Alive (part two) Pairing: Jackson Wang x f reader Summary: Having not heard from Jackson since he pretended to be your boyfriend to ward off unwanted attention, you try to push him out of your mind, that is until you run into him when you least expect it. Genre: Fake dating au / strangers to lovers au / heartbreak / angst / fluff / smut Rating: 15 (Nsfw-smut in future chapters) Warnings: some brief mild "friendly" threatening behaviour / foul language W/C: 2.2k Banner: @nixiecreates creating pure perfection. Beta: @seokgyuu thank you so much for you kind and encouraging words Tag list: @foofarny @kzokssb @galadrielthepsycho @sumzysworld @vminjackbaddie Notes: just a short chapter as I'm easing into the story that will unfold. I'm so excited. Please like, comment, reblog as it really helps!

"Can I get a medium latte and a slice of the lemon sponge, please?” You ask the barista, at the coffee shop around the corner from your apartment.

“Uh, sure, to have in or takeaway?” He responds with a bright smile, seeming slightly over the top.

“Have in, please.” 

He nods enthusiastically, “coming right up, tap when you're ready.” He points to the contactless card machine and rushes off to make your drink. “Swap with me.” He whispers to the other worker at the coffee machine, practically shoving him out of the way. Frowning, bewildered by his behaviour you shrug it off and make your payment before heading to the other end of the counter to wait for your order.

Taking a quick glance at the seating, you are pleased to see there are a few tables you can choose from, much to your relief. You need to get some work done and with your upstairs neighbours having renovations in their apartment, the noise there is almost impossible. So you came to your sanctuary, your favourite coffee shop with not only the best coffee, but most importantly, the best cakes. 

“Here you are.” The barista says with that same wide, slightly manic looking grin, as he hands you the tray. “Call me, anytime.” He whispers, but still loud enough for the people in the queue to hear, resulting in their quiet sniggers. You glance down at your order and see the scrawl of some numbers on your napkin and your face heats, only made worse by the fact you can feel so many eyes on you. Smiling awkwardly, you blurt out, “Sorry, I have a boyfriend,” before taking the tray and making a quick escape to your table by the window. 

Once seated you spin the cup to take a proper look at it.

The name ‘Lyle’ stares at you in bold, messy italics. Groaning to yourself, you turn the cup back back around and set your bag on the seat next to you, pulling out your laptop and hoping that the eyes you could still feel on you were only your imagination. 

You most definitely did not want to call him. Especially since you still haven't forgotten about Jackson. It has been a month since you met him at the club and you've had no text or call from him whatsoever and yet, he has crossed your mind more regularly than you would care to admit.

You shrug the thought away as you load up your work and dig into your cake, relishing the sharp lemon flavour of the sponge combined perfectly with the sweetness of the drizzled icing on top.

“Does this boyfriend have a name?” a voice beside your table startles you, your fork freezing in mid air while your mind races to come up with an answer for the persistent barista.

Glancing up at him, determined to continue your lie, you start, “l-” but stop when you see a familiar face smiling down at you. “Jackson?” you drop your fork and stand up to greet him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and kisses you lightly on the cheek, lingering a little too long for just a casual greeting. “It’s great to see you, y/n.”

You can’t help smiling up at him, your bodies almost pressed against each other and radiating intense heat between the tiny gap. 

“y/n?” Another voice sounds and a smiling face appears from behind him.

“Do I know you?” you wonder.

“No, no, sorry, I’m Mark, Jackson’s friend, but boy, have I heard a lot about you.” he grins.

Arching a brow you peer up at Jackson and note the faint flush of pink dusting across his cheeks and have to fight the amusement that tugs at your mouth. “Good things, I hope?”

“Oh, yes, very,” is all Mark responds, snapping his mouth shut when Jackson throws him a deathly glare. Biting your lip in an attempt to keep your excitement and amusement at bay and watch as Jackson turns your coffee cup towards him, looking at the numbers written there, “so, is this boyfriend real or did you need a fake one again?” 

The smirk that plays on his lips has your heart pounding against your ribcage, creating a tune just to serenade him with.

“I guess I could have really used your assistance again.” 

He laughs and then his eyes fall serious, seeming unsure of what he wanted to say.

“So still no boyfriend, huh?” Mark interrupts the silence, as he stares very obviously at Jackson.

You shrug, “nope, I seem to have this problem…” tapping your chin thoughtfully, “where guys don't call me.” 

Jackson groans and dips his head into his hands, “I know, I know, I was going to call, but then…” he hesitates, searching for the right words.

“He was being a little bitch about his ex,” Mark interrupts, “but, he's over that now, aren't you?” he scolds and you have to fight the urge to laugh.

“Yes, definitely.” Jackson responds staring intently at you, eyes burning through you and starting a surprisingly intense heat inside you. “I'm sorry, I should have at least sent a text.”

“Hey, if you're not ready, you're not ready, can't help meeting at shitty timing.” you smile graciously, trying to hide your disappointment and hoping you're succeeding.

“I'm ready, now,” he insists, stepping closer to you. “If I haven't blown my chance?”

Your heart hammers so loud in your chest, you can barely hear his words, but the resounding scream inside your head tells you what you've decided. “Why don't you message me and find out?”

He beams at you and nods, “yes, for sure.”

Your cheeks warm slightly and you have to break eye contact, if you want your brain to ever work normally again. Getting lost in his eyes is dangerously easy.

“Miss, are these guys bothering you?” A voice sounds next to you and your eyes drift slowly over following the sound. Who should it be? None other than Lyle, the barista. Thinking he's being a knight in shining armour, when in reality he's disturbing a moment you have hoped for since the night you met Jackson.

You bite your lip, as the awkwardness only continues to grow as you watch Lyle sneer at the two of them, it would almost be laughable if you weren't so disappointed by the interruption. 

Jackson glances slyly at you, a devilish smirk playing across his mouth and as if you can read his mind, you give him a sly wink.

Jackson steps towards him, glancing at the barista's badge, “Lyle, is it?”

He nods in response, suddenly seeming unsure of himself for butting in.

“I really appreciate the concern for my girlfriend, thank you for checking in on her and her well-being,” Jackson's hand lands on Lyle's shoulder, meant as a friendly gesture but you can tell it's also a warning by the firm grips he holds. He picks up your coffee cup and turns it towards Lyle, “and as you can gather, she won't be calling you. No hard feelings, right?”

Lyle shakes his head quickly, cheeks slightly pink and spins on his heels, making his way back behind the counter.

“Thank you.” You fight back a laugh. “you come to my rescue once again.” 

“Always happy to be your fake boyfriend.” he beams at you.

“Or,” Mark chimes in again, “you could just date each other, then you could be her real boyfriend.” He mimes bashing your head's together which would have made you laugh ordinarily but you're hyper focused on Jackson's reaction to that.

He fixes Mark with a hard stare before turning back to you. “I'm sorry, I'm really out of practice with dating.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I'll call you later today and we can arrange a date? I mean, if you'd like to, that is? I don't mean to assume.” His face flushes pink and you can't help but bite your lip from the sight.

“I would love to, but,” you pause just to torture him a little more, “why don't you give me your number this time, in case you chicken out again.”

He gives you a bashful grin before pulling out his phone, typing away and then returning it to his pocket. “Done.”

You feel your cell vibrate in the back pocket of your jeans. “Ok, then.”

Both smiling at eachother like idiots, you're interrupted by Mark once again, “ok, lovebirds, we better get going so we're not late for the game.”

“Game?” You wonder.

“Basketball, a group of us play every week.” Jackson glances down at his watch. “Shit, you're right.” He takes a step towards you, “sorry, I've got to go but I promise I'll call you tonight.”

You nod, excitement blooming like roses in your stomach but a small whisper in the back of your mind does not want to get your hopes up again.

His fingers gently clasp your hand, and pull it up to his mouth, he presses his lips to the back of your knuckles, an action that almost has you swooning but you manage to stay upright.

“Really great to meet you!” Mark calls, as he heads towards the exit, drawing people's eyes in your direction.

Jackson backs away without another word, glancing back at you until he's out the door and out of sight.

You sit down, feeling dazed, your hand feels cold where his lips touched your skin, burning them with the memory of the tender kiss. Opening up your laptop and attempting to focus on today's tasks proves difficult when all you can think about is the hopeful impending conversation you would have with him later.

Pulling out your phone, remembering that he'd messaged you, so you could save his number and you see the text. Your mouth stretches in Cheshire grin before you can stop it seeing his message:

Unknown: can't wait to speak later

Just that simple sentence had you giddy and feeling like a love sick idiot. You also couldn't wait till later. 

*

Signing out at 5pm on the dot, you pack away your work things now you are back home. The renovations were still ongoing, the noise reverberating through your apartment like wildfire, making plans in your head to go out for dinner, until your phone rings, halting all other thoughts.

You see Jackson's name on your screen, scrambling to answer it and taking a deep breath to quell the excitement before you speak.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.” you start, sounding a lot cooler than you feel.

His deep laughter vibrates your ear, sending delicious shivers down your spine. “There's no chickens here today, ma’am.”

You can't help but laugh at his reference to your earlier comment. “I can see that. Nice to hear from you. How was the game?”

Settling on your sofa, pulling you legs up to get cosy, you listen in. 

“Yea, good, my team won, of course.” 

How can his voice sound even more devastating over the phone? Every word drips with velvet.

“There's nothing wrong with your ego, is there?” you tease.

“Not when it comes to things I know I'm good at.”

“And I bet you're good at many things.” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them, hanging in the air thick and heavy, until he speaks.

“I guess you'll just have to stick around and find out.”

You hold in the squeal that's bursting to escape, as more loud bangs and drilling sound around you.

“What on earth is that sound?” He asks.

Letting out a frustrated sigh you explain about your neighbours and your plans to stay out this evening, hoping when you return the noise would have dissipated somewhat.

“If you're free tonight, why don't we have dinner?” He asks, sounding nervous for the first time today.

Biting your lip and grinning you nod frantically, “oh sorry,” you laugh, realising he can't see you, “I was nodding. I would love that.”

“Ok, great, I'll pick you up in half an hour?”

“Perfect.” Holy fuck, you need to get ready fast.

You text him your address and raid your wardrobe, opting for a black dress with flat shoes, something simple but classic so you would fit whatever type of restaurant you go to. Your hair is beyond saving, so you pull it up in a rough bun, which for once turns out great. You neaten the very minimal makeup you have on when your doorbell goes. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest, galloping like a horse that carries you to your front door. Pulling it open, your mind goes blank seeing him standing there all in black. A fitted black t-shirt, with black trousers and shoes, he looked devastating in such a simple ensemble.

“You look…” swallowing and trying to appear calm, “amazing.”

His answering smile almost floors you. “I was thinking the same thing, you look beautiful. And we match.”

Looking down at your outfit you can't help but laugh at the coincidence. 

“Are you ready to go?” He asks.

Nodding, you grab your bag and keys and lock up. His fingers entwine through yours and he searches your eyes for permission, smiling as you give his hand a reassuring squeeze. It feels nice, the simple action of your hands clasped together, natural and comfortable. Your usual first date nerves have evaporated, maybe it's because you've spent time with him already, maybe it's because you know what it's like to kiss him, or maybe he's just a good match for you. Only time will tell.

[hordraomin]

Krita tutorial the way I know it.

Basics: What is where.

Gimmicks.

Specific advice on specific tools.

Basics: What is where.

Upon opening the program this is what you're met with. First of all, must comment: The layout is HEAVILY editable so you can just drag menus anywhere you want, even leave them floating amidst the sheet you're drawing on.

You can create custom art templates, I have two o'mine here as both have my signature background color.

As well, you can edit the custom document settings, as in what size you want it, what resolution, even the initial content of the image. As well you can create from clipboard: Just copy some image from your browser and Krita will recognize it (useful for making meme edits lol).

Now, once you have your file, I will show you what is where.

Brushes:

Brushes are easy to edit and there are tons of free bundles to download online. I myself only got one bundle, Jackpack (bit hard to find now due to original source being lost, it is still available but bit tricky to come by).

There. Are. Tons.

Some of these are my custom brushes for calligraphy in neography, you might even guess which ones. You can edit existing brushes, make new ones from the ones you've edited without changing the original, and all sorts of stuff (more below in the third chapter).

There are numerous packages of brushes once you enter Krita, but only one/two are available when you first open it. To unlock them all, click here:

And make sure all bundles are dark gray in color (example of both dark and light below).

Now Tools Options: those will pop up depending on what tool you're using.

Symmetry: Fun stuff. You can drag the lines depending on how you need them and then center them back to the center of the screen if needed.

Gradients and Textures also have their tools options, you can play with those to get the feeling what they can do (more in third chapter).

The Filters tab is useful too. Blurring, motion blurring, color mapping, artistic filters and all that: Quite fun.

Gimmicks.

Krita allows you to customize your workspace freely. Floating menus, tabs, anything you want. It has quite many drivers at that-

To access the workspace templates, go to Window and choose Workspace.

Krita allows for copy-pasting any image onto the sheet. Though, for me it sometimes crashes if I accidentally copy-paste text into it without choosing the Text tool first.

The software allows for both raster and vector work. It is basically Photoshop sharpened to be used by artists primarily.

There are some interesting mechanics regarding the Eraser (default bind E).

You can use it with any brush, allowing for textured erasure/quick work. Good for sketching.

You can use it on gradients (given there's a transparent point on the gradient preset).

There's a Multibrush tool:

People say Krita is good for animation but my brain can't wrap around it yet honestly @~@.

The keybinds:

B - Brush tool.

E - Erase tool option.

M - Mirror (useful for checking accuracy from a new angle).

Ctrl - Color pick (when used with brush or other color-using tools).

Shift+L.Mouse+drag - Changes the size of the brush by dragging left and right.

Ctrl+E - Merge layer with the one below.

Ctrl+G - Group selected layers.

Ctrl+A - Select whole sheet.

Ctrl+Shift+A - Deselect everything.

F - Bucket tool.

G - Gradient tool.

Ctrl+S - Save document.

Ctrl+Shift+S - Save As document.

Ctrl+N - New document.

Ctrl+O - Open document (will be seen in a new tab on top of the sheet).

Ctrl+C - Copy selected layer or selection.

Ctrl+X - Cut selected layer or selection.

Ctrl+V - Paste copied/cut layer or selection.

Q - Multibrush tool.

R.Mouse - Interesting thing: Opens up a quick selector for brushes and colors you've already used in the piece.

1 - Zoom 100%.

2 - Zoom to fit the piece vertically.

3 - Zoom to fit the piece horizontally.

4, 5, 6 - Turn 15 degrees (4 and 6) or undo the turning whatsoever (5).

Ctrl+I - Negative filter applied to layer.

Ctrl+U - Color editing on the layer.

Ctrl+Y - Soft proofing mode (for color mistakes and stuff like that, mostly annoying for me tbh).

Ctrl+T - Transform selection/layer.

Ctrl+R - Square select tool.

Ctrl+J - Lasso select tool.

Honestly you can just hover your mouse over tools and see their shortcut binds, as well. Or edit them in Settings.

Specific advice on specific tools.

Brush:

Brush editor is a great tool for making custom brushes, and it even has a sratchpad to test them out. Lots of settings, but no need to be afraid; Most of them you might never use on purpose.

Use Brush Smoothing for great and pretty lines in lining pieces or making calligraphy.

Gradient:

The four icons to the right top are:

Mirror gradient.

Arrange by lightness value.

Arrange by color value.

Space the stops evenly.

Click the gradient to add a new stop. The three things to the left are:

Make the stop use Primary Color.

Make the stop use Secondary Color.

Make the stop use a fixed color.

[razorblade180]

Let’s Talk My Hero!

[Spoilers, duh!]

I’ve sat with my emotions long enough. To start off, this is not a rant. Second, my thoughts won’t be in any particular order. Third, try to be nice in the comments.

Personally, the only reason why I don’t flat out dislike the end is because of the final panels letting me know Deku still gets to be a hero. I would be livid otherwise.

This chapter is way too short and quick. If you’re going to do a time skip with a lot of characters and questions left then it’s only right to give them as many, if not all of them good panels and bubbles telling us what’s up.

Bakugo’s hurdle to being number one has always been about his attitude/ego and the mental maturity needed to work well with others as a person in general. We see so much of him becoming more empathetic and handling social situation, so for the final chapter eight years later to say he’s gone down in rankings due to his attitude genuinely makes me feel like parts of that development was an utter waste of time; it gives me no hope whatsoever he could ever change enough to achieve being number one and honestly makes me agree more with the people who think he should’ve gone out in the fight. I like Bakugo but his final moments against Tomura is his highest point shown of him being courageous, empathetic, sympathetic, and being the essence of a hero. Him dying would’ve solidified him being Class 1A’s number one hero for life.

I do not like that Deku didn’t seem to know his entire class was making him a suit. It could’ve been a surprise for the audience and not him easily. It doesn’t help that one of the main messages is talking to others when you’re in pain and we get panels of Deku clearly looking a little bummed about how life is. I would’ve preferred seeing Deku effortlessly being happy teaching and changing lives for students, kids, etc. and then we get All Might rushing in after class saying “It’s ready!” Then we see Deku’s eyes light up as he runs without thinking towards all his friends who have the suit so they can all go hit the streets in the final panel. It makes Deku more admirable to me personally because then the narrative is while he knows one day he will be out there again, he’s going to spend his time still saving/helping people day in and day out in other ways; instead of him thinking it’s now the only way he can.

I’ve seen people arguing about Deku’s fate and how’s treated in both negative and positive ways. All I want to really say is yes, Deku never cared about fortune and never specifically cared about fame. HOWEVER that boy’s entire dream we were told is being the number one hero! Izuku wants him friends to climb high every day but that’s never stopped his mindset for wanting to be number one! Izuku is one of my favorite characters in the show, so I say this with anger and bias for my boy; Japan not giving him specifically a statue near All Might after seeing live footage of a 14 year old stare evil in the face with no arms is fucking wild to me! Deku is not the type of person to want or ask for a statue, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t mean everything to him if Japan unveiled a statue and said “thank you for being our hero.” We can have a selfless protagonist still be given his flowers without it being selfish or undeserved! That should be the surprise his class doesn’t tell and fund secretly!

I would’ve liked one final talk over dinner with Izuku and his mom. Maybe have dad cooking in the kitchen or something. Inko not getting a final heart to heart with her being proud of her child is criminal.

This point may piss people off but it needs to be said. If anyone writes blatant, and blatant romance/romantic narratives that are important between characters then that person doesn’t get to end those stories without blatant resolutions. I do not care how any individual may personally about IzuOcha has a ship; that doesn’t change that for ten years there’s been characters (including Ochako herself!) talking about the love between those two. I’m not saying they have to be together. I’m saying it’s poor writing never have those two finally have the confession and deciding what that means for themselves. That’s not just for fan’s sake. It’s proper closure on that narrative. Not everything gets the perfect bow on top but you should still wrap it up.

I see people upset about what Ochako’s choice in how to help after what happened to Toga, and those people should reread how society failed Toga. It wasn’t that quirk therapy and behavioral help didn’t work. It’s that the system didn’t actually try at all and lacked the effort from the start. They didn’t help Toga. Their solution was simply to tell her to never use her quirk. That’s literally not help or a solution at all. Ochako is actually trying to build a system that will try to help and not ignore a problem which I still think is an insane problem to have in this world on a narrative level. How the heck is there no guidelines set in place to help navigate a person having a blood quirk!? She’s not the only person who has one. You’re telling me in a world where people could have a spray bottle for a head or extremely sensitive hearing that society has no clue how to make sure blood quirk uses don’t go off the deep end!?

I know I’m not the only one who wonders when the power actually faded. Personally I wish we had a chapter that’s dedicated to time skipping throughout the rest of high school and seeing Deku still have his powers; training and learning with his friends and eventually having the deeper conversation about his situation and feelings about everything. Graduation finally hits and maybe like the week before, Deku knows his powers are all but spent but he still technically finishes his school life walking alongside his friends in a way he always dreamed on. It can be very emotional, he does one final smash towards the air and that’s when the class really solidifies they will one day be running side by side again; we just don’t get to hear the specific promise or plan. Then we get the time skip when he’s a teacher next chapter.

I think that’s all my big thoughts really. I kinda wish we got more about what’s up with adult Todoroki but I also get it kinda means the family chapter a few weeks ago no longer becomes the definitive end of that narrative. That being said, I stick with my belief that we should know what’s going on with so many people of you you do an eight year skip. That includes Endeavor, Rei, and Fuyumi mainly. We know how Natsuo should be doing and we nobody has to think too hard about Dabi’s situation.

Anyone, those are my thoughts. Once again, be nice in comments.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

27 - The Winter Rose

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, descriptions of blood and violence, mentions of character death, imprisonment, minor self harm, discussions of miscarriage and child loss, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, possessiveness

Notes: I'm sure this chapter title and the last chapter title have no deeper meaning whatsoever. Nope just totally, utterly random. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

You were thankful Maester Pylos was easier going then most, meaning he was quick enough and familiar enough with you to listen when you told him not to ask anything about it. His eyes were drawn right to the scar as he looked over your bruised ribs, but he kept his word and said nothing regarding it. At least for the most part. As he moved on to carefully cleaning the somewhat still bloody wound on your forearm he did however comment in jest, “Should I be concerned if these ones do not heal? That might make acquiring more in battle leave you looking a little worse for wear, your grace.” 

You huffed a laugh before wincing. “Don’t, I’m in too much pain to laugh.” Glancing out the open window to the night sky, your eyes narrowed in a weary thought before finding that voice. “Pylos, when did Maester Cressen...”

He pause in his work as he glanced up almost in an apologetic manner. “Not long after the start of the war. He-” Trying to cut himself off before you sat up straighter to look at him did he feel the pressure to continue. “I mean not to speak ill of him, but it was at his own hand. Poison in a goblet of wine, hoping to share a toast with the red woman. It worked on him, but not her.” 

Both looking at the other in a dreaded silence, neither were sure what to make of it. Even now, with what you had lived and Pylos had seen. You swallowed heavily before relaxing a bit to let him continue in quiet. “Who else?” His eyebrows raised and your voice found itself lowering in roughness. “Who else is gone? Because of this woman?” 

Sighing deeply, Pylos pulled away. Sitting back as he looked sympathetically. “There was your uncles. Lord Renly first, then Ser Axell-” Your head shot up in a confusion for a moment repeating his name as Pylos nodded. “Yes. Your father had allowed the red woman to..burn alive those who did not convert to the Lord of Light, and Ser Axell was amongst them.” 

Your heart sunk in your chest, what had you allowed this woman to turn you into father? 

“One of your own cousins was to be sacrificed until Ser Davos betrayed his grace’s word and aided the boy in escaping-” You repeated the word cousin with more confusion and he seemed surprised you had not known this information. “A bastard boy of Robert’s. The red woman had need of King’s blood for her witchcraft, and sought out a living bastard of Roberts and brought him here with intent to sacrifice.” 

Heart skipping a beat, you heard not the footsteps approaching the door from the winding stairwell up to the top of the Sea Dragon Tower. “Robert had..well he has many bastards in King’s Landing, which one did my father bring here?” 

You did not like the pause, the sorrow of something you hadn’t known. “I am so sorry, I did not realize you hadn’t known...” The pairs of feet stood outside the door, one hand holding out in front of the other figure to give a moment for both to listen. “King Joffery..he had ordered..he had ordered his City Watch to find and execute all of Robert’s bastard children. He believed that they posed a threat to his claim should the rumours of his mother and the Ser Jaime Lannister to be true. Only one remains as far as we know..”

You wanted to ask who, but the answer was sickening no matter what, because it was a boy he said. Not the innocent life of a tiny baby girl in the arms of her young, sweet mother who knew none better. What was her name? Barra? That was it, the little girl with already growing dark hair and green eyes that shined up at you when she woke up in her mother’s arms. 

Lord Baelish had never specified how many of them were out there, but you could only imagine the truth. You had on more then one occasion come across the outside of his chambers, Ser Jaime Lannister posed morosely outside forced to listen to your uncle with however many women he drew into his bed that time. It was one of the few times in those last few months before Lord Arryn’s death that you and the Lannister had found genuine common ground. 

That both of you found it nothing but an insult to force a brother to listen to his King insult his sister, no matter how little love existed in such a marriage. You both had joked how judging by the sounds, you couldn’t tell if it was worse if the number of women he had inside was more or less then the number you had thought of. Watching girl after girl leave and sometimes return or a new one would show, and how many of them had sons or daughters which now lay dead at your repulsive cousins hands? 

Before Pylos could speak more of it, the door to his study opened and the tense air was cut short as both Jon and Ser Davos walked in. Pylos making motion to stand only to be stopped by Jon offhandedly waving off the need of a gesture of formality. Yourself however, stood as you and Davos looked to one another, a full volume of regret somewhere behind his eyes. “Your Grace, I came to apologize.” 

Were Jon’s head and heart not still racing in something treading close to anger, he may have found the strength in him to laugh at how easily you dismissed that, almost not even having realized there was any slight to apologize for. “Unless you’ve committed a crime in the hours since I last saw you, you haven’t done anything I’ve taken offence with. You've known me my whole life, that allows you to think I'm an idiot sometimes.”

Almost dropping his face a bit more flat as he looked at you, tone a bit heavier but more flat as well thankfully. “What has the world come to, when it’s easier to apologize to Stannis than it is you?” Both of you had a small laugh at such, you stepping forward as Pylos gave more space to those all in the room. 

Crossing your arms there was a beat passed between you before your own voice found the right words, “I should be the one to apologize. After what happened to Matthos..being on the other side of it wouldn’t make it any easier, it was the best option we had but that doesn’t change..” Something unsaid between both of you, and it wasn’t your place or anyone's but Davos himself to truly bring it up all on his own volition. “What I’m trying to say is, I am the one whose sorry.” 

The room was quiet as was his own voice a little far away with a tinge of amusement. “Don’t imagine it’s good manners to reject a Queen’s apology.” 

Only that made you laugh, and laugh hard enough that you had to stop mid way through with a wince at your ribs. “You should hear the way some of my own men speak to me, I’m not what one would call particular with manners anymore.” Your eyes shifted a bit more stern however, a question tinted on your lips to follow. “Dare I ask whats been done with our new prisoners?” 

“Most of the Golden Company has been put in the main dungeons, none to happy with how crowded it is but least they’re far enough down we won’t hear them complain.” Nodding, brows narrowing as he read that too. “As for our honoured guests,” a twist of jest in his tone matching his expression to choose his words carefully. “They’ve been put in separate cells for now, Connington requesting one for each of them away from the other.” 

All four in the room found something strange in such a thought, but there was little to ponder over it in the moment. Jon had been standing some feet back, arms crossed over his chest with a dark, narrowed anger in his eyes that matched the rough strain held back in his own voice. “If they are willing to cooperate I can work something out with Stannis. Their army in the dungeon, I have no reason to keep them there as well. If they hear us out they might be of some help, if not, I see no reason they can’t at least have freedom to stay here or leave.” 

You nodded, having not a clue what such a conversation with your father would look like and yet it seemed most of the reasonable ones anymore were between him and Jon now. Working together in White Harbour was the most you had gotten along with him since he was still in King’s Landing. It was not your place to question that, nor did you feel the need too. As long as whatever he wanted, wasn’t going to push Jon into anything he didn’t want. 

All was quiet as the three of you now walked the halls back towards the ground level, you finding specific instructions to Davos. “Gather enough men to check around the curtain cliffs for structural damage. It’s hard enough getting around this place without those paths getting cut off. And tell Amos to start clearing the bay when the rest of it has put itself out. I don’t want our shores turning into a graveyard.” 

Making his leave, you found enough drive still flowing through you that you had thought to tun to Jon with something else entirely on your mind only to have him glance down the hall, before his face twisted in a deep irritation. Grabbing you by the arm and all but hauling you into a small alcove just around an empty corner. Crowding you in and instant, hands roughly holding you by your upper arms as he looked you over, the blood and grime he found even more minimal then it was still on himself before letting them fly up to cup your cheeks.

His hold was tender, but the raggedness in his voice certainly was not. “What in Seven Hells did you think you were doing out there?” 

If the look in his eyes weren’t such a brightness that yet gleaned with something desperate you may have teased him, but instead your heart only dropped further then it sat within your chest. You noticeably, did not reach out to him in anyway. “We needed Connington to surrender, I did what needed to be done. “

“By putting yourself in danger?” Trying to defend yourself, Jon cut you off with his voice trying to raise but being unwilling to go anything near a yell this close to you. “What happened if you lost?”

You on the other hand, were a bit louder but high pitched in an unsure lack of confidence as he stared you down. “Aegon wasn't about to give up, he wasn't going to go willingly I had to do something.” 

This time, something uncomfortable had boiled in Jon’s chest and did in fact, come out as a yell with an anger rushing through. His hands on your face dropped as he tried to turn away, only getting a few feet away before his face still twisted in anger faced you again. 

“I never would’ve let you anywhere near this fight if I knew this was what you were going to do.” If he expected you to argue, you didn’t. Deep down he knew you wouldn’t. His voice a little quieter but just as on edge as he ran a hand across his mouth before he turned closer to point at you almost in a lecture. “I shouldn’t even let you within fifty feet of a sword if you think your best chance is to always throw yourself at the enemy first.” 

Again, you didn’t fight him in any way. Instead your nails dug into the skin of your other fingertips as your arms sat tensely at your side, jaw clenching as you flickered between his face and the ground beside him. 

Your voice far more quiet and unsure then his anger. “I’m the one who actually saw you dead, you know.” His eyes narrowed briefly but you looked away again. “You weren’t there, you didn’t see me at the Twins. You weren’t the one between us who sat there staring at your corpse all beacuse you were a few hours too late to stop it. First time you felt my scar was when I was alive, I felt yours when you were dead long enough down there your skin was turning blue.” 

He had barley moved, and your voice hadn’t raised. It wavered in between upset and something darker but you just stood quiet and stiff, Jon trying to gently call your name but your jaw clenched further. A shake of your head before you continued to stare away from him. “You’re so afraid of losing me out there but I know exactly what you look like when you’re dead. You don’t think I hate not being strong enough to be at your side, to have your back if no one else does? Or do you think it’s just easy for me to imagine coming up after a battle and seeing you on the ground exactly like you were that morning?” 

You looked up to him finally and found instead all the anger had transferred to your eyes, only a heartbreaking softness left in his, but now as Jon stood there you knew he wasn’t certain if reaching out to you again was a good idea. Not when you were this on edge. 

“Do you really think I’m fine with the fact that I’m too weak to protect you?” 

He wanted to reach out to you so badly but you’d flinch away from him the second he even twitched in your direction. His grey eyes swimming with that need however and could not hide it from your own eyes distant in a pain. Your name murmured on his lips, “Why do you think I asked you if you wanted to learn how to use a sword?” Your eyebrow raised in confusion, “That night in Winterfell, why do you think I wanted to teach you when I caught you looking at the practice swords?” 

It was still one of you fondest memories of that visit. How you had been so caught off guard he swiped at your legs and it sent you knocking to the ground. Looking up in confused anger to see a fourteen year old Jon, that dashing smirk on his lips as he swung his own practice one around in one hand looking down at you. His voice at that point already having developed so close to the deep raspiness it was to this day. 

He had teased you about not turning your back on your enemies before helping you up. Accepting the shove you gave him.

Risking taking a step forward, you tensed a little as you looked away but you otherwise did not try and back away from him. Jon’s voice growing softer as he spoke, trying to coax your eyes to his. “I never thought you’d ever need it. Never thought you’d find yourself having a life where you’d need to protect yourself like that. I only asked if you wanted to learn how, beacuse I wanted an excuse to spend time alone with you.” 

Your eyes didn’t meet his, but you looked closer, enough that the gaze now trained on Longclaw sat at his side, brows slightly narrowed. “You spent plenty of time with me, in those days.” 

Jon risked another step forward, and you tried not to let it choke up inside you how careful he tended to be when he could see whenever you were in a more high strung state. He always knew exactly when and how far to keep his distance until you settled enough. “Not the way I wanted. You spent most of your days working beside my father and when you weren’t there was always something trying to take your time away from me. It was an excuse to spend time with you and no one would be around to interrupt.” 

Glancing more up, you found the blood splattered across his chest plate, somewhat covering the direwolves. You more mumbled then anything, not having the ability to argue at the best of times with Jon. “I didn’t learn how to use a bow to set a thousand men on fire, but that came in handy when the time needed it.” 

Jon’s hands itched but he kept them to himself. “Never in my life did I think teaching you all those years ago meant you’d be putting your life in danger beacuse of it. I didn’t think you’d ever have any use for it, and I don’t expect you to do it now.” 

It was a mistake looking up, his grey eyes were so wide and bright. A shine to them which radiated something so beautiful as it echoed against the rest of his face. How more women didn’t fall madly in love with Jon, you did not understand. Because even now, they were enough to make you melt enough he stepped within a foot of you. You tried to speak multiple times, but ultimately let a sigh out as you looked away from him in your own frustration. “I knew if I could get him alone, I might be able to overwhelm him quicker then he could me.

Looking back up at him, neither of you held any anger anymore. You both hated having to be together in a life full of blood. You hated it with Robb, and you hated it now. None of the lives you ever planned out as a wishful little girl included this much war and death. Jon tilted your head up with a tender touch at your jaw, making you meet his eyes as he leaned close enough you could feel his breathe dancing across your skin. 

His other hand reached out, grasping your hand to guide it to his waist before settling his on yours, almost a prompt to tell you to let your other do the same thing. Which you obeyed. His tone was as gentle as he could make it, light and airy as he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead before meeting your eyes again. “And if Aegon had killed you, I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him myself.” The almost loving tone as he ran his hand on your jaw along the skin to your cheek contrasted quite strangely with the dedicated violence of his words. “You’re duty isn’t to put yourself in danger, and it’s my duty to keep you safe. I’m only asking you to stop making my job so hard.” 

Finally, he had managed to pull a breathy laugh from you. Him returning one back, leaning a bit more into you with his own mesmerizing smile as he did so. One of your hands on his waist jumped up, going from there right up to dancing your fingertips along his chest plate, not caring much to avoid the blood as he you traced over the direwolves. “I didn’t do it to scare you.” 

“I know.” His hand moved to run across the back of your head, his fingers clearly toying with the idea of pulling your hair loose as he was there. “I’m not trying to make it seem like I want to control you, it..I hate that I can’t always be there to protect you. I know you can take care of yourself, but you shouldn’t have to. And I know I have to work on that, on accepting that.” 

Nodding, the air between you both felt much less suffocating then before. Hard to overcome the fact that you found it scary, the idea of arguing with Jon. He felt things deeply and intensely, and you hated the thought that you could ever be the one to set him off in a bad way. Especially in moments like this, his grey eyes so soft and full painted towards you and hands gentle like you were the delicate thing to treasure in his touch. 

Letting your hands reach up and cup the sides of his cheek and jaw, he moved with you in an instant as if reading every inch of your mind. Leaning down to meet you half way, the second his lips gently brushed against yours, he moved to grab your waist to steady you against him. Nothing more then a gentle dance without pushing the other too far, and yet Jon’s hands kept growing tighter despite the kiss growing no more heated. 

The second a tiny sigh slipped from you as you parted, a light dizziness in your head with a satisfied hum along with it however, was a step too far. Jon’s hands suddenly dropping down to your hips, and the innocence of the moment died out as he, somewhat roughly, pushed you against the wall. His lips kissing you harshly, deepening it the second you grabbed at his shoulders with a whine, crowding you against it before letting one hand slip to the back of your head. 

This time, he pulled out the ties keeping your hair up without needing a single glance. Running through the loose strands before yanking your head to tilt up so he could press against you entirely. Biting at your lip only once before demanding you let him slip his tongue inside your mouth, running along yours as the hold on your hair was keeping your lips from being able to part from him whatsoever.

It was the exact same thing as before it seemed, you with nothing but innocent intentions and Jon let it consume him like an inhuman force blinding him with a raw lust. Your hands reached up to let his hair loose but were caught in their path as Jon all but shoved your legs apart, moving a knee to invade the space between. As he shoved that same knee up against between your legs, he used his grip on your hip to grind you down against it, powerless against his strength to stop it. 

Biting your lips, running his tongue along yours and tasting your mouth with an increasing demand and greed as he started to guide your hips to move in a harsh but slow grind. Too many layers keeping you from feeling it so directly, but Jon was unfair in how strong he was and he kept you pressed against him as he moved you along until he felt your hands shake against your hold on his shoulders. 

Your insides burned as his did, screaming in fire at you, but not to be put out. A pleasure that twisted and turned like a coil to snap at any moment begging him to throw you into the flames at his own mercy, and your heart raced so much those across the castle were like to hear it pounding. It was as if something took over, pulling finally from your lips as his eyes now black as the night outside looked into yours. 

His lips red and swollen as he hadn’t pulled from you enough to break the small strands of saliva his kiss brought between you. Lips parted he breathed heavily until he looked down, keeping you against his knee as one hand now flew to find just enough room at the edge of your pants to slip down. 

Jon’s mind aggressively thinking about how much he wanted to be home. Bring you home to Winterfell so he could go back to you having the freedom to walk around in your beautiful dresses and there would be not a thing in his way but your tiny layer of fabric that he could soak you through in seconds.

Teeth almost gritting as he hissed, finding your clit as the rest of your core was shoved too tightly against his knee, still moving you against him only now his fingers pushed more. Running harsh and tightly over the sensitive spark before almost twisting it as if it were the small buds on your breasts he would roughly yank at, twist so cruelly but on something now that made you cry out. 

His mouth covered yours instantly, brows furrowed as he did so as if he was angry someone might have heard you. Running your covered core along his knee and his fingers rubbing, twisting and playing with your clit as he licked his way back into your mouth, keeping you unable to moan out loud or catch your breathe. Tensing hard in his arms, Jon pushed his knee up firmer and forced your hips down as much as he could as he ran his fingers tightly and twisted the core in you so suddenly. 

But you tensed up, gasped into his kiss and then nothing. He pulled away. Again. His hand, his knee, even his lips. He stood almost a foot away from you, hands now steadying you by your upper arms again as you felt so stinging you wanted to cry. Three times now, and it was starting to be painful each time he refused you. Husking down at you, accent so thick only you could understand it from being so close, “Please, don’t ever put yourself in danger like that again.” 

Almost unable to speak through the thick fog in your head you nodded, but he pulled you by a hand at your chin so as he spoke his lips brushed yours. “I want you to promise me, darling. Promise you’ll never do anything like that again.” 

You weren’t in the right mind to guess which, but you wondered far off if he had done this on purpose or not. Put you in such a desperate state to get you to agree to anything he’d ask, or was this just out of his own worried panic over your safety fighting with some darker need he held for you? 

Either way, your hands ran along his chest plate again as you nodded,“I won’t. I won’t do it again, I promise.” Looking to his eyes, they were almost seen as water hidden behind their depths as he looked at you almost heartbreakingly. “Jon..” You bit your lip almost nervously to ask, it sounding too innocent in your airy tone for such a request, “Could..we...” 

But Jon only kissed you again, one last bite to your bottom lip as his tongue ran gently over the marks his teeth left and pulling back again. His hand cupping the back of your hair once more, the other now gentle on your waist. “No.” Your eyes squeezed closed in frustration as he kissed your forehead again, speaking against the skin there too. “But I want you to start keeping track of how often I don’t let you.” 

Your brows furrowing as your heart still beat loud in your ears, “Why?” 

He pressed another kiss to your forehead, this time more gentle and loving. Resting his own against it as he curled the hand on your waist around your lower back to pull you more into a gentle embrace. “Because however many times I take it away from you, I’m going to double. Give you twice as many to make up for it whenever I fuck you. You’re looking at how many? Six? Eight?” 

You actually laughed, and so did he. Your head falling onto his shoulder as you shook with an exhausted laughter. “Remember that day in the wolfswood when I admitted I didn’t know what having one feels like? I’ve decided I regret ever telling you that now.” He asked why and you could hear the grin, “Because you only let me have one after doing this exact thing three times then.” 

Jon didn’t respond right away, but it wasn’t even in lust he retorted. Almost just enough in a dry tone that you would smack him for being a smart ass, were you still children. “If I’m adding those three, then we are up to at least twelve.” You sighed, and he grinned more. Pulling you against his chest with both arms, one more around the back of your head now as yours were at his waist. “Keep talking, darling. I’ll keep adding them. I’ll be between your legs sun down to sun up at this pace.” 

Sometimes it was hard to tell if your fathers men gave a hard time just to see how long your resolve would put up with it. You had been going back and forth before the man finally accepted the orders and made his leave. 

The deep rumbling of a familiar voice came up to your side as you stood watching the men around the main gates working to clear and clean of the dead. “I’d throw them off the sides of that cliff before I let a lanky shit talk to me like that.” 

Glancing up to your right to find Tormund watching the same as you did before glancing to you with an amused raise in an eyebrow. You turned back with little expression, voice as flat and done with this night as before. “I grew up here. Known most of these men my whole life, they talk to me like that because they know I let them. They certainly wouldn’t speak to my father that way.” 

You tried not to glance to where he was in the distance. You felt a bit conflicted on how to handle things. On one hand, you were greatly thankful for him in just the blood spilling hours before and yet Pylos’s words rung in your mind and you couldn’t stop thinking of it. You didn’t know about your uncle, he was your mother’s own brother as well how much had been burned to dust and bone on these shores? 

“You did well.” Glancing back up at him with curiosity, “On the cliff. You did well, not an easy climb that kind of rock but I was impressed. You and the Greyjoy.” 

Smirking you shrugged a shoulder before crossing your arms over your torso. “Should I in return congratulate or apologize that your daughters husband lives to see another day?” He chuckled deeply, and it brought a smirk out of you. Taking a moment to let it simmer before you turned to something more on the side of quiet. “Would you have it in you to do more of that, or was this a one and done sort of deal?” 

Turning to face you with an amused interest, he played just as coy. “Depends on the pretty crow’s offer.” 

You however jumped right to the point. “The mines we’re here for, there’s tunnels all under the island but the easier ones to access are still mostly untouched. I have a few I know that I’ve worked my way through, but before I bring any of the others down there, I need to make sure I have everything in place so I can at the least have people get down to the main surface floor without scaling untouched walls in the dark. Would be nice to have someone who knows what they’re doing down with me.”

Tormund smirked, “Not even a challenge, between you and me, we could have those tunnels ready in a few hours we leave early enough.” You nodded appreciatively, back to looking at the winding stones some now had worked to wash the blood from. “I’d ask how early we should start tomorrow but I have a feeling it won’t be so easy convincing Snow to let you out of bed, to go spend time in a confined dark space with another man so soon.” Your eyes narrowed in confusion as he laughed. “Your fancy castle is large, but it doesn’t hide as much as you think.” 

Your voice cracked as you suddenly hoped the earth would open and drop you into the sea. “I’m not sure I know what you are implying.” 

Tormund leaned in, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and dragged you into his side without care. “All the advice I’ve given him, and he didn’t even let you cum.” Perhaps you could climb to the top of Dragonmont and dive into the molten liquid if you ran fast enough. “Could join you, let me teach him by example, how to treat a woman right if he’s that fucking cruel. Show him what he’s missing out on with you.” The grin in his voice was so thick as you knew your face was flushed and mortified. 

Barley finding the confidence to mumble out, “You’re getting closer and closer to me shoving you off the edge of the mine, Tormund. Right at the very top.” 

There was no noise except for the echo of footsteps as they walked down the corridor. Much torchlight hung by the walls and there were enough in each heavy iron door that you knew at least he would be sitting in more then darkness. As the guards opened the door, you nodded at them pointedly. “Leave us.” 

The door closing behind with a loud clang keeping you in the open space of the dungeon cell, and a thick set of metal bars adorning the second half of the room keeping him apart. Sat on the ground with one knee bend up towards him and the other splayed out on the ground, the heaviest of his armour having been taken off him and he now looked quite like an ordinary man. 

His eyes met yours with a curiosity. Your voice was low and even with nothing to give away in tone or even your face. “Do you know who I am?” 

His answer at least was simple in response of your name, ending with Baratheon before he paused and corrected himself with little effort in him put forth. “Or, I suppose it’s Snow isn’t it? If we are being proper, that is.” 

It made sense you supposed in your mind. Jon Snow was King in the North, and you were Queen at his side and most would presume so due to marriage. But it wasn’t anything worth the effort to correct him on. You didn’t come down here to discuss Jon. 

Looking at Jon Connington you could see the shorter dark orange of his hair that gave his face more youth then the lines and exhaustion blessed him otherwise. “You requested to be away from your men, may I inquire as to why?” 

Glancing up at you, his own eyes narrowed trying to sense the double agenda in your question but you knew he would find none. You played no games now. He sighed deeply, looking back at the adjacent wall with a morose tone. “I led sell swords here, not an army. They aren’t too forgiving of failure, even less so with being forced to surrender. It was safer to put me and him on our own, and I knew you wouldn’t let us together.” 

Giving him one nod before inhaling deeply as you looked at him now with more curiosity. “The Golden Company has never successfully taken anything in Westeros before, they will come back around from this. We out numbered you, more than you suspected we would if I am guessing correctly.” 

Laughing with nothing behind it’s meaning, “That you did. Lord Varys’s little birds were wrong. About many things it seems.” You raised an eyebrow and the silence sat between until he realized this was not a back and forth. “Either he didn’t know about Stannis Baratheons army or he didn’t tell me. Also tried to spook me, saying your husband was some dead man. A walking monster stabbed in the heart. Looks perfectly fine to me.” 

The walking monsters of undead nature were that of cold and ice, not flesh and blood. But the knife in the heart was all the same. “He isn’t here, Lord Varys. Why?” 

Connington barley moved, “I don’t know. Left some days before tonight, had business to attend to elsewhere and said no more on it. He isn’t a man who gives away his secrets,” You agreed and it had him hesitate and turn to look up at you. “How would you know that?” 

Stepping closer your posture loosened a little bit, making him relax as well. “My father and I both served on the small council for some years. Spent much time around Lord Varys, so yes my lord, I know exactly the kind of secret’s he is capable of telling. Or not telling.” 

Oh the glare Connington gave you almost was enough to have you laugh. “So, how does your father being King work? He claims to be the Protector of the Realm, but his daughter and heir is married to an independent Northern King? Things sure seem to have changed since I’ve been gone.” 

“By change you mean there’s more freedom to rule outside of your beloved Targaryeans?” His eyes shot over to you, and while there was no malice on your face there was something unsettling in your eyes deep if he searched hard enough. You stepped closer again. “There was only a Seven Kingdoms because those people flew in with dragons and scorched the earth and it’s people. So you can imagine I am not quite convinced on Aegon’s claim when this country is only just beginning to find footing on it’s own once again.” 

Sighing deeply, Connington’s jaw clenched as he stared harshly at he wall but his voice spit out in a hiss, “So this is who rules now? The Targaryeans fought against you Baratheon’s and Starks and now you get to be the ones who are in charge?” 

Your voice was non confrontational however, you didn’t come for a fight but you knew you hit a sore spot. “For the Iron Throne? It’s a three way tie currently. The Lannisters sit on the throne, my father fights for it and apparently the remaining Targaryean still alive ,wishes to come back to seek it as well.” You came close to the bars, him still a number of feet away even if you were to press right up against the cold metal. “The Starks want nothing to do with the Iron Throne. We have bigger fights in the North then for an ugly iron chair.” 

That you didn’t realize, was just almost enough to get a smirk out of the man. He turned his head lazily to look up at you, “Thought you were a Snow not a Stark.” 

If he was trying to be clever, you saw through it. “You and I both know that Lord Varys has told you exactly who Jon is. Who his father is.” That made him clench his jaw harder, turn away with a rigid uncomfortable look in his eyes in an instant. Crouching down to see him more at his eye level you narrowed your eyes at him. “Let's not play word games. We both are aware of who exactly you were fighting against out there.” 

Connington sighed, an arm coming to rest against his knee and hold his face in his palm before flying it back down to whip his neck around to you. “Is that why you are here? To discuss Eddard Stark’s bastard son?” 

If he was on edge before, he paled now as you whispered into the silent air. “I’m here to discuss his aunt. Lyanna Stark. I’m sure your familiar with the name.” He said not a word, and you felt it seep heavy into the very air you both breathed. “I am going to be perfectly honest with you, my lord. Neither me nor Jon care about Aegon’s fight for the Iron Throne. He asked one thing of you in peace and you and him all but declared war for something on this island you didn’t even know was there. I don’t care if Aegon is fighting for the Iron Throne, what I want to know is how he’s even here in the first place.” Leaning forward you lowered your voice to something a little more annoyed with him. “Do we both know what I’m referring to or do we need to refresh our memories about the end of the rebellion? And how every single person in the Seven Kingdoms assumed Aegon died as a baby when Gregor Clegane  smashed his face into a wall so hard it was unrecognizable.” 

That did not sit nicely on his face. At all. He swallowed had with as much horror swimming in his eyes as you always felt imagining such a monstrous act. You let him sit in the quiet for a good few minutes, and you sat patiently waiting. “He was already two when they brought him to me.” Your eyes narrowed but otherwise remained entirely impassive. “Lord Varys and this associate of his, they approached me with this whole thing. I- I didn’t even know Aegon had survived...I had no idea...but then there he was..the only thing left of him right in front of me and them pleading me to help.” 

“What did they want you to do?” 

“Raise him. Take care of him, help make him ready. Train him to take the Iron Throne when he’s ready and hide with him until then. As father and son. Out of everyone in the world I had thought, me, Rhaegar trusted me with his son.” Your eyes grew dark and sharp but said nothing. There was a distant affection and lightness in his voice that was so far away you knew it tinged in a present pain. “I had lost him, but I had his son. Rhaegar’s own blood trusted in my hands to raise..I don’t know why he was smuggled out..or why she wasn’t..”

Rhaenys he meant. Why what sounded like nothing more than an innocent, sweet girl was left behind to be slaughtered.

He swallowed heavily, and his voice shattered to a waver. Not once did he look at you. “I spent his whole life waiting for him to become Rhaegar. The day I would wake up and see him, in his face, his eyes, anything. But..I’m still looking. I spent Ageon’s whole life waiting to see when he would turn into his father that sometimes...I feel like I missed his life..the life he had when he was just..my son. I failed his father, and now I’m failing the son too.”

Whatever was choking him on the inside, wrapped its tendrils around your throat and squeezed until something rough was forced out. “You didn’t fail. Rhaegar was the one who failed.” Connington’s eyes met yours, and it was a sorrow you rarely saw on people. “I don’t know Aegon, I didn’t know Rhaegar, but I knew the damage he left behind. I spent half my life growing up with a family that his actions led to their deaths before the war was over, and that pain has never gone away. I saw that pain live and fester in Robert’s eyes until it was so strong it almost killed what good in him was left. Good men don’t leave pain like that behind.” 

Deep blue eyes and dark curls in your mind were clear as if he were right in front of you. Robb being gone was agony, but he left no pain behind. Only the agony of loss, and the desperate love of so many who knew the truth that he was the best of so many of you. Good men are like Robb, not Rhaegar. 

Connington was quiet for a long time, but never asked you to leave. A quiet solace as you both thought to men you loved and lost in your own ways, but one was tinged in more guilt then the other until it spilled over as his head fell back with a thud against the dungeon wall. “For a long time I saw him everywhere. In my head, my dreams, would pass someone with just the right shade of hair that I’d trick myself into thinking there he was. I wanted to see him in Aegon so badly, but I never could. I thought I never would again, and..it wasn’t until..I suppose now I realize that maybe I don’t actually want to see him.” 

“Until what?” 

He looked to you with a doubt, and then he huffed a laugh. Shrugging a shoulder in a genuine amusement as he sat there behind the metal bars. “For a good minute out there, fighting your husband felt like I was back in my prime. Sparring with Rhaegar in the training arenas, getting overwhelmed by his intensity too.” 

Tilting his head to you, “Damn near spooked me. Was like looking at Rhaegar how intense he was, but..he was also far better then him. I’ll give him that, your King is a skilled swordsman like I’ve ever seen. Had all of Rhaegar’s intensity and more, and I realize now that maybe I’m relieved I’ve never seen that in Aegon. I don’t know this Jon Snow, but for your sake, I hope there’s more to him then what I saw out there beacuse otherwise?” He whistled out and your face fell flat. 

Your voice however had an edge to it that cut him like steel. “And you think Rhaegar was a better man?” Rhaegar thought he was better then everyone else, and that it made him untouchable. But Jon is a better man then anyone you know anymore in your current life, but he would never think that of himself. He’s a good man because that’s who he is, not beacuse he’s trying to make everyone else think so too. Leaning forward there was a real vitriol there, “Jon’s never abandoned his wife and two young children to kidnap an innocent teenage girl at the least.” 

Connington’s face paled almost sickly. “Is that why you’re down here? Mock me about what he did?” 

You were honest but no less hostile even in whispers. “She was Jons aunt, his fathers own sister and everything he’s heard about what your beloved prince did to her only got worse the more he was told. But he won’t ask you about it. So I will.” You leaned in as much as you could. “Why kidnap her? She died because of him, her father and brother died trying to save her. Why take her, why keep her from her family. What did he do to her that killed her so far away from where he, himself died?” 

Connington’s voice was rough and you had no sympathy. “You’ve heard the story.” Asking why he did it, he said nothing. So you asked again to more nothing. Only the third did he raise his voice. “I don’t know. I don’t know why he did it. He never said what about the girl he wanted with, just that he needed her. But he had his Kingsguard keep her locked up and no one saw her until after she was already dead. He never said what he wanted with her, never told me why. And I was exiled by Aerys before I had a chance to find out.”

Leaning back, your nails dug into your palms at the guilt on his face. “Tell me one thing. The rumours of what he did to her, were those true? Or was that just the angry ramblings from Robert without any merit?” 

His silence was deafening and you felt ill. Lyanna deserved better then to have men thirty years after her death, mourn the man who kidnapped and raped her until she died alone in the Dornish sands. 

You backed off from him, and your tone lightened up a bit for his sake. Already struggling to look you in the eye. “Sometime soon, Jon will offer you and Aegon a peace. But I’d think long and hard, Lord Connington. Think if the man you really want Aegon to be is Rhaegar, beacuse there is none here who is on his side. But they might be on yours. You have time still. He doesn’t have to become his father, you can let him be ready at his own pace.” 

“No I can’t.” You head tilted in question. “I don’t have time. Aegon needs to be ready to take the Iron Throne now or I- he can decide who he wants to be when he’s crowned but I need to sit him on the Throne as soon as possible. I...I have to do this one thing for him. I can’t fail the father and the son both.” 

Your whisper was far away, “Why? Why rush into this after spending almost thirty years leading to it?” 

But he shook his head. Clearing his throat before pulling his knees both up to his chest to rest his arms over them. For a while he said no more, and it wasn’t until the tense quiet of you walking towards the heavy door did he speak up. “He looks like her.” 

Your head whipped around to look at him, Connington’s face more pale once again. “Jon Snow. You said he’s Lyanna Stark’s nephew? He looks like her. Suppose he looks like Eddard Stark too, but it was like looking at a gods forsaken ghost seeing him for the first time.” He laughed to himself. “Spent thirty years trying to see Rhaegar and avoid thinking about all the horrible shit he did, and in one night I feel like he, Lyanna and Robert have all come back to haunt me between the two of you.” 

In only a small voice, you knew he heard you even if he didn’t acknowledge it. “You’re the one who raised him. And you surrendered for his sake beacuse you love him, not beacuse he’s Rhaegar’s.  Don’t allow Rhaegar’s shadow to get in the way of that. Aegon’s not him, and he needs you for you. Not beacuse you are waiting for him to become someone else.” 

As you walked out of the dungeons, all you could see was deep blue eyes against grey eyes. 

For only a moment, you let yourself sit on the steps leading back to to the main floors of the castle as the night sky loomed over. Your hand traced the scar along you, and you realized maybe you weren’t the only one making that very mistake. You had been adamant to ensure your love with Robb was about him and not the guilt of Jon, and it led to a love between you both that was more then you could’ve ever imagined for the tearfully short time you were allowed to share it.

So you couldn’t do the same in return to Jon. You would always love Robb, always love the child you almost had together, but you couldn’t only see them when you looked at Jon anymore. You always said he deserved better then what the world gave him, and that included what you had been doing up until now. 

The path was less treacherous then you recalled. Recently having passed your eleventh name day, you had still been small when you did this last. Your room too, it felt smaller then you remembered, cramped and uninspired with little personality. Much of you had been taken to King’s Landing where none of it existed anymore, but hidden behind a cabinet under the rug was still your spot to have searched on Dragonstone.

The path along there felt long as a girl. Long and the loud tides were frightening as if the gods telling you to stay away but each time including the fifth now, you had to pass the fear by. There was something you had to do, one last act and this time you felt horrid it was done so late. 

Hopefully not only will The Mother see your beg of reason, but Robb would understand you hated not being able to do anything sooner. Whatever gods answered you now, you needed to send his son to Robb once and for all. Robb deserved that, he deserved more then that but this was all you could do. 

As you came upon the clearing however, you felt a weightless sink in your stomach that almost had you drop. What more had he let her do? Your steps were suddenly slow, a painful realization that not only could the old gods of Robb not hear you from here, but perhaps the Seven of your past could not either anymore. 

The statues had always sat tall and proud on the shores, close to the sept but a worship all on their own that felt closer to the earth. Four times you had come here like this, lighting a candle in the middle of each and finally to The Mother you would light all seven before beginning. 

But now, only shadows remained. Burned statues of the Seven that you could hardly recognize what even had stood as what before. Burn the false idols, that was what he had let her do. You prayed in a peace to the old gods now, but not even the sliver of your life following the Seven was allowed here now. Only her fire god, as she burned any and all for him. 

Now, as you stood with the torch in your hand and wind blowing your hair around with it, you only felt the pull North more intensely. Dragonstone was slowly taking away everything that was once a home with a family. Death and destruction was left. 

Your hands brushed along each statues remains, and tried to recall prayers long unspoken in your mind and hoped they would accept your only offer. You knew where The Mother stood, and for once you felt a sting behind your eyes as you approached. This time it was not brothers you lost, and not your own mother by blood that you prayed for. It was you who was the almost mother praying to let the gods forgive your unborn son and pass him to his father and find peace together. 

Carefully, you stuck the torch deep into the sand in front of her, and let your hands trail over the melted insides that were left. Wind blowing your hair and cloak far and wide as you begged for any hope that someone not shrouded in fire could hear you and protect him. He was your son, and you failed him and so you needed to pass him on. 

You had made your way to your old bedroom earlier, shutting the door behind you sealing you alone as you pulled out the deep blue box with ornate foxes etched into it. Four hand carved toys sat inside it, four toys for your four brothers to remember by. 

You had done what you did for them, written out the blessings septon would anoint a child with as they were named under the Light of the Seven. Only this time, the house sigil was that of a direwolf, and the name you called to them at the bottom had almost been enough to make you cry. The memory of horrified blue eyes looking at you with blood soaking his hands as your final memories together. 

Eddard Stark

Now the burned remains sat in a small pouch along with the dagger. Pulling it out you held both ends with a choke so high in your throat were you to let it out it would sob. But the tears fell the same. You had nothing of them, nothing of either of them. Only this. 

You had nothing of Robb but a scar and a dagger. His body was desecrated. He was given no funeral rites, he would not rest beside his father in the crypts of Winterfell with a faithful direwolf to guard him. 

Robbs bones were lost somewhere in the Riverlands. 

You could only give him this, and the tears fell as you cared not to hide them. You had a life to find now without him, with a man you truly loved but you would never find it in you to move past this kind of pain. You would always be scarred in heart with his loss, and the son you failed to give him. But you did have to accept it.

No shatters or thunder or noises to fear came about. The Mother had seen you cry and heard you in agony for the love of your life and the son you both lost, and she was allowing you to do one final thing for them. 

You like four times before, stepped out into the middle of the shores, and with no wince this time, carved the dagger deep into your palm. The blood of you, Robb and your son all dried on it and now you let it twist as much as you could needing some of all three to soak your hand as you and your sons had soaked Robbs. 

Letting it sit back in it’s sheath, you gently pulled out the pouch and poured it into your bleeding hand and letting the material fly elsewhere. Hand tightening around it you let your blood together soak as this was all you had of your son. Robb and you could only give him this to send him and you needed him to find his father, that was all they had of each other. 

Stepping into the watering tides, you knelt down into the ground, the water surrounding you a few inches all around. Your hand sat deep into the sand as your eyes closed, kneeling down on your calves, with both hands braced beside you. The winds and tides blew around you as you saw not the blood. 

Just the memory of a moment to find any joy. The memory of how scared you had been to tell him, only for Robb to haul you up into his lap and arms, the happiest you had ever seen him and the loving press of his lips against you like you gave him the world. 

Eventually, your hand opened and the remains and blood all washed into the sea. You stayed there for a good long while. Eyes open looking to the stars in the night refusing to remember the pain. Only the deep love you found with him and the dreams of a family you couldn’t give him. 

You hoped this far away, Robb Stark could hear you tell him you love him. Now and always. 

It was more time you had planned on being away, by the time you had made your way to the room that was to be yours for a time, Jon was already stripped down from his armour and everything. Both of you having taken the time to clean the blood and grime from you before finding the other at that point as Jon now sat perched against the ledge near the open window, slight breeze flowing through his loose curls as he was cleaning the remaining blood from Longclaw back to it’s shining state. 

Grey eyes soft as they looked up, you gently pushing the door closed behind you before letting your back rest against the heavy surface. A fire softly crackled in against the wall along the rooms clearing with a soft rug covering the cold stone of the floor. It was hard to tell if it was something unsure or worried in his eyes as they looked gentle but with a furrow in his brows at the fragility you stood against the door in, as if struggling more then normal to find the words. 

Calling your name, but when you didn’t respond he set Longclaw aside. Standing to make his way over to you and only on the second attempt did your eyes snap back to the present as your name sounding in your ears. He stood close, but not invading your privacy and yet that sorrow in your heart melted to something that left a bright love to bleed in your gaze. “Talk to me.” 

As Jon’s hand reached up to run his fingers through the hair at the side of your face, you grabbed it instead. Pulling it, and by proxy him, closer to you as you held it more over your heart as the other free hand of yours traced over his jaw, facial hair scratching at the skin. His other came to rest at your waist, both quiet as he waited for what was behind your eyes to make their presence spoken. 

When you found that, it wasn’t what he expected. “I used to think it was my fault my mother lost my brothers.” His eyes narrowed at you but you had not the strained hurt in your voice, but something more gentle and easy. “She stopped speaking to me after the first, and then the night after she lost her second my father told me I was being sent North. I thought it was a punishment.” Your hand begun to trace back and run through his curls as he watched you closely. Your own eyes not meeting his as they trailed innocently over what you could see of him from such an angle. “Used to think boys were meant to come first, and by me being the firstborn I had screwed it all up, and my mother kept losing them beacuse of me.” 

The hand holding his over your heart slowly slid downwards, his eyes following intently until he led your hands and reached where the scar sat under your clothes. Letting his palm almost slide across the whole thing and his eyes never looked away from it as if he wanted to see it through the material. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

Nodding, you moved both of your hands to rest along his chest close to his collarbones. “I thought I was cursed. Eventually, I stopped thinking about it. It had been so long I forgot what it ever was like to be afraid I was the reason she couldn’t have them.” Your voice lowered however, and you felt him tense drastically in your touch. “At least, I forgot until I lost my own. And then I felt like a failure. I didn’t even have one before he too was gone.” 

Jon tried to move, wanting to pull you closer but your hands on his chest pushed back a little to keep him at bay. His voice low and rough trying to contain something in him. “Robb would never blame you for that. Never.” 

You echoed those words, not realizing as he had said them about himself that you understood exactly what that felt like. “I thought I failed Robb, and I was terrified he would hate me for failing his son too.” Jon never moved his hand from your scar, his shoulders holding a visible weight on top of them as he stood close to you. “But I realized something tonight. That if I keep holding onto that thought, all I am doing is pushing you away with it. I’m doing exactly what you had told me not to do when I married Robb. I’m letting my pain of losing them get in the way of what I should be having with you.” 

His other hand not on your scar moved to run over the back of your hair as his grey eyes were bright and conflicted as he looked into your willing ones. “I’m not asking you to choose me over Robb, I’d never ask you that. I know you two loved each other and I’ve never wanted to get in the way of that-”

It didn’t matter how quiet your voice was, it to Jon sounded as if it were a yell from above. “He said I was fine.” His eyes shot up to yours sharply. “Wolkan. He said I was fine. That..he doesn’t think I should have any reason to suspect I can’t..or that we wouldn’t be able to..”

His touch was still and his eyes were wide in almost shock. Lips parted slightly as he looked you over gently before meeting your eyes again. “He said that you can..” His hand on your scar increased the pressure and he almost could lose it at how you seemed so gentle looking up at him.

You leaned back against the door more, a relax in your posture. “I thought that if I failed to give the last King in the North an heir, I didn’t deserve to fail with the second. Thought you should’ve just moved on, made me leave and find yourself a better wife that could give you all that and more. That letting you be with me was a mistake, and you’d end up hating me for wasting your time.” 

Something deep in Jon’s eyes hurt, something painful cut at him hearing such a statement that there was a redness tinting behind the grey that threatened to pool out were he to let it. In an instant he moved to cup your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours as he crowded you against the door, your hands coming to his waist. “I don’t care about if you can give me a heir, I care about you. I care about how much it would hurt you not to be able to have children, and if I was pushing you for something that was impossible..but..” 

The ease in how lovingly you looked into his eyes made him choke up. And the tenderness in your voice made that all the worse. “I’m not trying to influence you one way or the other, I just..thought you ought know the option is there..should you decide you want that..” 

You suspected there was a lot he wanted to say but little ability to speak them into the world. His voice still a whisper as he looked at you, but a playful small smile on his lips. “I did always think your name would sound better with Snow than Stark.” You both just laughed, for a moment before he tried inhaling shakily before speaking again. “We don’t have to plan anything right now, but,” One hand started to trace down your arm, as his eyes followed, “We could always practice.”

His eyes flickered up to you, and a weight held your voice and breathe down. Maybe keeping the tears at bay too, but you swallowed heavily. Hands on his waist tightening as you slowly nodded. Jon leaned in, hovering close to your lips before glancing up to your eyes, you nodded once more before nervously shutting them as he closed the gap himself. 

Jon tried to be gentle, he truly did. 

His kiss was soft at first, a gentle brushing of his lips to coax more from yours. Hands on the other were both light and firm enough just to keep the other in front of them, but it was the shaking in yours as they rose up the length of his chest that made him weak. His touch back up to cupping both of your cheeks as he gently let you find a slow, sweetness in the harmony, your hands continuing their journey up to dance along his neck and wrap around the back of it, almost too gently for him to handle. 

Your touch when that soft and innocent, made his blood race. 

He tried pulling away a few times, wanting to at least take the heavy layers off of you, but each time he was pulled right back to your lips on his own desire, kissing a little harder each instance and getting worse at pulling back every return. The hands on your cheeks tightened ever so slightly when Jon gently nibbled at your bottom lip and you tried to gasp. He would return to a soft kiss, bite your lip harder and then kiss it soothingly before biting and repeating. 

Each bite you got closer to a whine at the pleasure from the stinging he gave you, and your nails unintentionally dug into the skin of his neck as you felt yourself getting lightheaded. One of his slipped behind your own neck, keeping a firm hold cupping the back of it as if to force you not to move as the other hand left your cheek as well. Blindly working away at the laces and straps keeping your light armour still attached to your upper body as if he needed no sight to know how to take it all off of you. 

As soon as it was loose enough to pull off you, he let it toss down anywhere he could throw it, biting your lip harsh as he jumped to your bottom half. His tongue now soothing over the bite mark before slipping into your mouth. His invading kiss and calloused hand running along the skin by your hips undoing your pants almost impatiently had you arching a bit into the touch and a gentle whine he caught in your mouth with his greed. 

Instead of shoving them down though, his rough hand slipped in between the fabric and your skin, and suddenly it was just as it was in the castle halls earlier that night. His fingertips dancing down to where you burned for him, and his own knee suddenly shoved your legs apart to once more rut in between you. The hand slid just inside only coming back up to grab what he could of your pants and roughly yanked you down onto his knee as much as he could manage, you much more freely moaning into his kiss. 

The entire time, Jon refused to let your lips part from him. Refused to loosen his grip on the back of your neck and you felt more and more like it was a wolf really in front of you. A rough hold on the scruff of another wolves neck to keep them subjugated and you let him without a single thought on the matter. There were no thoughts of anything in you that wasn’t letting him do what he wanted. 

Jon’s own head screamed at him over it. This was exactly the kind of thing that led to the way he took you that night in Castle Black. In your early days together, slowly exploring one another at the same pace it was never this bad. He never felt this barley in control. Yet as soon as his eyes opened once more in the body belonging to him, as soon as his mind settled and he understood the truth of what he had experienced, it started and never stopped. 

Something dark and clawing in his chest begged him to keep you all for himself, and the way you melted to his touch so willingly and so naturally made that stronger. It partially scared him, having something so intense and addicted find it’s way about you. Worried that he was too much now, he would frighten you with his need for you in his life but you weren’t. You were the one in fact, scared of over staying your welcome. 

That darkness was stronger then it had been in his entire previous life, and it was that same darkness that had him take you that night. Hoisted against the cold wall in his arms, Jon had slid his cock deep inside you for the first time and he knew there was no going back. Shoving you onto the ground and fucking you deep as soon as he already came once. Waking up with you bare in his arms and you had only even just tumbled out of sleep as Jon yanked you up onto his lap. 

Barley opened your eyes before he roughly bounced you on his cock and him sitting up to mark your breasts up with this teeth because you gasped so beautifully in the air whenever he did. He filled you twice that morning without ever stopping how hard he fucked you onto his cock and he didn’t understand why he wanted more and more. Couldn’t understand why he suddenly was so desperate to fill you in a way that once terrified him when he was nothing more then just a bastard boy in love with a royal highborn girl. 

But now? Jon was King in the North, the King his brother, his brothers people and his home all wanted and not a thing would stand in his way from keeping you with him. He was still honest about not wanting to pressure you into thinking you had to marry him, but he wanted it. Wanted you in a beautiful ivory dress, even more elaborate then the last. Pray with you in front of the Weirwood, drape his own fur over you in that beautiful ivory dress and kiss you before finding one last string of tradition in him, and hoisting you in his arms to the celebration to follow. 

You could be each others and there would be nothing anyone could do to change that. Jon would never force it, or even press for it, but nothing would be in his way. And now? He thought too, nothing was standing in his way of getting you pregnant and suddenly his blood almost boiled him alive. 

Hands finally having enough, you started to push up the soft material of Jon’s shirt until he got the message, pulling from you to let you take it off him, and letting it drop much more gently then he was treating your things. Looking down at you with wide eyes and lips parted as he breathed heavily, he stopped. Running his hand back down your cheek before just as gently taking everything from your top half off of you. 

A shiver running over your chest as you were left with nothing covering you but Jon’s dark, greeding gaze. But he didn’t overwhelm, not now. Keeping a hand steady on your hip as you kept perched right over his knee, but his other explored your skin. Running flat along your jaw and neck thumb firm as it trailed down the middle of your neck to your collarbones before circling around to grasp at your breast. 

His eyes were narrowed and his breathing heavy through his nose as he stared in silence, hand suddenly rough as he groped the plush skin he found. Thumb running over your nipple already perfect for him to grasp and twist. Grey eyes so dark they were near black as they flickered between his touch and your arching back and high pitched gasp you tried to keep low. 

It only made Jon tug and twist at the small bud more roughly, and your gasp turned to a small cry before he finally moved to the other hand from your hip. Both hands rough and calloused and leaving bruises of his fingertips as sparks shot through your chest, pumping from your heart down between the legs trapped on either side of one of his. Jon leaning forward, pressing only gentle kisses down your neck. Nothing like his selfishly rough touch, only feather light presses of his lips making his way up to your ear before leaving another gentle one just below.

His lips only giving a peck before his hands came to slid everything left on you, off. Keeping everything in a tender touch until he rose back up to your level, you now bare before him. 

Three fingers danced between your legs and grazed the growing wetness before trailing up to your clit with a touch that never really got committed. “Will you lay out for me? Let me taste you?” You bit your lip, still the act somehow making you nervous. It wasn’t something you even knew about until he was already doing it, and still it made you self conscious, but the need was deep in his eyes. “You’re safe with me, remember?” 

That made you nod, and you let him gently move you to the soft carpet close to the fire. Still something nerve wracking in you, realizing you had no idea how to make yourself look alluring like this. Gently kneeling down on your calves with your hands in weak fists sat in your lap as if anything else would look like you were trying too hard. Jon however, just exhaled deeply as he looked back at you. 

Grabbing your hands with both of his larger ones before leaning close, placing them along his shoulders around the back of his neck until you continued the path yourself, fingertips running what you could reach of his curls. Moving next to guide you to lay out for him, your knees somewhat bent with feet flat on the soft carpet as Jon settled partially above you. 

Instead of moving you more, Jon leaned down and kissed you again. A soft brush of lips that this time never picked up, one of his hands running along your hair splayed out under you as he pulled away, after giving one final small kiss. Nothing else was spoken in the air as he moved down your neck, kissing a path just as soft and just as gentle the whole way. 

Your hands slipping to his shoulders the lower he kissed, your chest already with a slight heave as your breathing picked up, but he never let up. Never let his lips press anywhere but gently along your skin. A muttering against you when he had to reach up, and direct a hand into his hair, mumbling into his path, “Keep that there.” You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. 

The lower he got the more your nerves and heart raced, unsure as to why it made you so nervous but it also was something you simply never knew existed before him. Much of what you had always discovered with Jon made you nervous. He paused as he got to your scar, and just as you had his, kissed a path all the way down it and further. 

Shifting to lay between your legs, Jon confidently draped your thighs over his shoulders, once more grasping your hips as he kissed along your upper thighs. Moving your hips slightly up closer to him, you felt the gentle brush of his tongue along your clit, enough to have you gasp. Would have jumped too were his hold not keeping you so strongly tethered right where he wanted. 

Small, gentle licks along your clit that had your core awaken suddenly. Just a tender touch, working you up at the sensitive spot with only his tongue until he felt your thighs around him begin to shake, only then did Jon finally run his tongue flat over it much more soaking. Sucking your clit before just barely grazing his teeth over it as you tried again to jump at the spark of pleasure but he kept you in place. 

Jon refused to let his mouth trail his mouth anywhere else, licking and sucking your clit with hands holding your hips tight until you felt that build up inside of you. Almost bracing yourself, knowing he was going to take it away again, you tried holding it off. Tried keeping it at bay as your free hand curled into a fist and biting your lip, but the pressure inside refused to stop. 

But just as you felt the weakness, just as you felt inside tightening, Jon instead moved to grab at your upper thighs, and pushed them far. The instant you were sure he was going to pull away though, Jon moved to lick right down your folds with a deep hunger. A loud cry left your mouth as the second that feeling snapped, Jon used that hold to yank you into his mouth more. Tongue tasting every bit of wetness you were gracing him with before trailing back to your clit and down again. 

Legs shaking and your breathing airy as your orgasm ripped through you but he didn’t pull back, only held you close. His tongue making his way deep inside of you, and your cries were loud and free by then. Unable to stop, as your hand curled into his hair with a beg of his name which meant no other words. 

Jon grunted into your cunt, licking and tasting you with greed at the feeling and sounds you made above him. Hands pushing your thighs wide and off his shoulders, and instead as he run his tongue against something sharp and sensitive inside of you, his hands slid down your thighs to pull you again closer. Not realizing you had arched away from him the more your head fogged with pleasure rolling around your veins. Hands almost grasping now tightly at your ass, fingertips leaving deep bruises already as his mouth drank from you with his own need. 

His own sounds vibrating through you and up leaving as cries from your mouth. Soaking his tongue and yet Jon didn’t back away for a second, his own need refusing to let go of you as suddenly that wave of pleasure shocked. Back arching for him, as your hand tightened in his hair. The sensation causing Jon to growl into you and his hands on your ass holding tighter as your orgasm rippled through you, babbling need saying words you heard not in the snapping pleasure burning your insides. 

Perhaps it was so close to your second that it made it simple, but Jon so quickly drew a third. Not letting himself simmer down to a gentle coaxing as he started, instead keeping the desperation in how deep he tasted inside of you and how much he drank everything you soaked him with. You almost rolled right into a third as you begged this time, “Please- I can’t, don’t..” Nothing was close to a sentence and Jon didn't stop until he could will himself to leave by force. 

Your eyes stung as it almost was too much between you did Jon kiss a path to your clit, and instead of marking his way back up, he all but leaped to your eye level. Pulling you in by the back of your hair as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Making you taste what he was addicted too as his covered cock rutted into your soaking bare cunt. His hands held your waist as he rolled more into you with intention, breathing growing heavy and the second he pulled away from your lips a snarl almost formed on his face before he bit your lips into another rough, deep kiss. 

Your hands attempted to reach down, but a soon as you got to his pants, Jon leaned up again. Saliva still pulled from both your panting, swollen mouths and now yours was as shined with wetness as he was giving you the mess you let him drink from. Eyes black as he watched you, taking over for your hands and pulling the last of his own clothes off. Trailing down to look at you, yours shyly looked down to him. 

Hard and thick, slightly red with need and his own seed already leaking as he looked at you. Pulling your legs wide as he moved back to you. His cock brushing against your soaked folds had him shudder and you whine, hands at his shoulders. Eyes still on you, his voice was strained, accent strong as he rasped down at you, “No matter what happens,” One hand drifting to your scar as your eyes stung, “We’re family now, we’re together.”

You swallowed, nodding yes before Jon kissed you gently. But the kiss was a distraction. 

The pressure as his cock slid inside of you, your nails dug deep into his shoulders and Jon kissed you harsher. One slow, gentle glide inside of you and he slid as deep as your cunt could let him go. Stretched thick around him you burned and cried, tears coming from your closed eyes. Hands running through his hair, Jon kept your lips on his too. 

He was slow about it, savouring every inch of you around him so warm and tight, your own walls being pressed against as you wanted to cry at the pleasure it stabbed you with each inch. His cock slid in and out smoothly, you utterly soaking around him as Jon would pull out almost just to the tip before just as slowly, sliding right back. Making you feel every moment of his cock filling every inch of you, his tongue brushing into your mouth as he did so, and the gentleness matched. 

Your lungs were no more as he fucked you slow. Every gasp you tried to have, Jon would steal it with his kiss and refuse you any air that he didn’t give you. He wanted everything you were to be at his mercy, trust him to keep you right where you were and you did. Legs falling wide around his hips, the coil inside of you twisted and cracked as you held his kiss even closer with your hands raked deep in his curls. 

His hands on your hips kept you in place, making every thrust of his cock had you shake, but the pace so you were to feel every second as you clenched so tightly around him. By the time he drew another orgasm out of you, you had tears genuinely at how overwhelmed you felt with his slow pace inside of you. 

But then he pulled from your lips, looking down to watch his length disappear into your soaking cunt, Jon didn’t notice his hands on your hips grew tight the longer he watched his cock slide in and out of you. Teeth gritting, he started only to realize how much you were scratching at his insides when you cried his name out. “Jon- fuck, please, gods, please, you feel so good,” 

Then, Jon picked up. Not the speed, still mostly just as slow but his hips suddenly skipping past a gentle increase and moving right to a hard, rough thrust inside of you. Looking up to your closed eyes as your back arched, hands now splayed in the carpet around your sweating hair. Jon fucked you rougher, stuck hovering over watching you. Each slam of his hips making the sounds between you slap, a rough smacking of skin that had him growling and holding your hips in place. As if he needed to control just how rough he fucked you at all times. 

He had once dreamed of being kind and gentle with you in such a manner, but now he could see your overwhelmed pleasure, watching how well your soaking cunt let him pound deep inside like he was destined to fit with you, and the obscene sounds of his skin against yours and how wet you were every thrust. Part of him still wanted to be gentle, but something else that had only awakened when he came back, made him feel like he was a wolf destined to take his mate.

“I hate every second I’m not with you.” His accent so strong you could barley hear its low rasp through the rough slap of each time he pounded inside you. A hand coming to press right beside your head as he looked down at you, almost speaking in tandem with every pound of his cock. “Hate every second I’m not inside you, not filling you fuck after fuck. That’s all I can think about, should lock you in our bedroom in Winterfell, keep you tied to my bed and never leave. Do nothing the rest of our lives but fill you deep with my seed,” 

His head dropped as he hissed, trying to control himself but the roughness was going to leave you good and sore and it made you beg for more in yielding. “I- anything, fuck Jon I’ll do whatever you want, you’re so good..” Pulling you up by the back of your head to meet his lips in a rough kiss, Jon thrusted only a few more rough times into your cunt before he shook above you with a groan into your lips. 

Cum unusually warm as he spilled inside of you, and thick as he spread your legs as wide as they could go on the ground beside you as he kept going. It was a lot of thick, very warm cum and he bit your lips with every heaving breathe or snarl inside him at the feeling of you so deeply taking him, and keeping all he spilled inside of you. 

He wasn’t done, almost as if it made him harder. Grinding deep inside you did you cum before he was even done though, coating his cock in your wetness and forced to take his cum deep as you cried his name. But Jon, only got rougher. Fucking into you with pounding slaps that would have echoed through the castle halls by that point, any passing close by would be able to hear the slap of skin from the ground, or even the sea. 

Burying your face in his neck as your hands wrapped around and into his curls, Jon almost pulled you closer, pressing your bodies as close as he could as he pounded into you. You didn’t know if keeping each one slow was meant as torture or not. Because you couldn’t tell if you needed him to go faster, or you might cry and beg for him to slow down if he changed his pace at all. Your voice was breathless and muffled in his neck, “I love you, fuck, Jon I love you so much,” 

As possessed as Jon felt, the almost tearful genuity in your voice made him bury his face in your hair, hands tight holding you to him. 

“You, gods- fuck, you deserve better, better then this, better then me.” Jon tried to protest, begging you not to say that but you clenched tightly around him and made him groan just as loudly into you as he fucked you. “Tell me what to do, please, fuck tell me what to do for you. I want to give you anything-everything, tell me what to give you to let me stay.” 

If he wanted to cry before, Jon certainly did now. His cock screaming to cum deep in you again, and the sound of his hips slapping against yours were music if he’d ever heard it but you had begged him. Hand running along the back of your hair, Jon mumbled into your ear, voice wavered and shuddering with his own breathless desire. “Marry me, let me take you home and marry me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” 

He knew he felt tears hiding in his neck, but he also felt you orgasm around his cock and he yanked your watering eyes to kiss you. Keeping you pressed to his lips, only pulling back to brush against them as you were jostled hard under him, asking as if he hadn't already. “Can I fill you? Will you let me spill inside you?” Nodding yes, he kissed you with a biting sloppiness to it before pulling back as his muscles strained the closer he got and the more your orgasm shocked around him like a sparking fire. He was barley comprehensible, so close to his own orgasm he slurred against your lips. “Fuck, fill you with my seed, fill you with a son. Give you my son..” 

His hips left their rough, slower pace, as Jon lost all control. Fucking fast into you, the slapping pounds turned to obscene speed and smacking as he roughly kissed you, your hands tight in his hair. Jon sped towards filling you once more, and you managed to pull away enough, voice high pitched and crying in loving need, “Anything, Jon, anything you want, I promise.” 

That time, your final, sudden and flooding orgasm snapped in your veins with an almost painful wave of pleasure, as Jon shook against you, and thrusted deep inside you, and you felt his thick cum spill inside of you. Cum almost as warm as the fire burning hot next to you, sweat covering both of you. 

Jon cupped the sides of your face, and you did his. Both knew there was something not normal about how blindly desperate you both felt for the other when he was inside you, but neither were sure anymore if either of you wanted it any other way. 

You hadn’t been in this room in a very long time, many years. The painted table was a long wooden table that was constructed to map out all the known lands of Westeros from Dorne to the Wall, and raised and lowered depending on the structure of the lands, all painted in accordance to how such an area around it looked. 

Just by walking in you could tell what the pieces came from, your father’s own collection as opposed to whatever Aegon and Connington brought. Planned out acts still set partially to what you now knew were your fathers own organizing. 

While it had been years since you had stepped foot in the room, it wasn’t unusual when you were on Dragonstone to appear in here. In only a few hours the sun would begin to rise from across the Narrow Sea, and yet you found your mind too worked up to sleep any longer. 

You had woken up with a panic, a gasp for air as you came close to jostling Jon from his peaceful sleep, from the force it awoke you with. The dreams had gotten out of control. Dreams of fire, and wolves and roars that you couldn’t identify had finally bled into something that you didn’t understand but found to be compelled to. 

This time, the green fire exploding from the torches in the Winterfell crypts were not followed by a burning flame roaring across the ceiling. Instead this time the direwolf which jumped from the statue of Ned Stark had ran behind you, and when you turned around you were standing deep within the sandy lands of Dorne. Sun blazing above and a tower standing tall in the distance with the red mountains looming in the background of it. 

A direwolf stood with many at his back. A small lizard short to the ground, what looked like ten small wolves at their backs, a black horse with a bright red main and scattered across the lands like rubble were two crossed long axe’s with dark black handles, a silver gauntlet curled to a fist, and three buckets scattered and all but the wolf and lizard were coated in blood. 

Standing across from them was a cluster of nine black bats all flying to hide the sight of a white tower crowned with grey smoke and burning flames as a lilac falling star crossed it, the tail almost in the shape of a white sword but just as the star fell across the morning so did everything but the Dornish tower behind it all, and a bloody direwolf and lizard. 

The tower however, begun to bleed as well. The wolf on the bed in the crypt had melted into the sheets and painted it with the red and blues of it’s fur and the tower begun to bleed such colours as well and suddenly as you looked around to any, the animals were gone. 

The closer you stepped to the tower, the more you heard a high pitch of crying. Something that was not an animal but also sounded too young to even be an adult, it sounded that of a baby until the crying morphed into the tiny growls of a young sounding wolf. Little growls and howls came from the tower as it continued to bleed. 

You took only a step forward more, and the tower had enough of your watchful eyes. From the ground it was ripped from the sands, and in it’s place roared that which followed fire. From the place which the tower had stood, came out a great dragon in it’s place flying high in the air swirling the lands with it’s fire. It’s scales burned your eyes with a pure white colour as it’s own eyes and flames from it’s mouth shined that like blood. But the roar it gave out was not one you imagined of a dragon. 

The white scaled dragon had flown to the top of the red mountains, perched high and what was supposed to be a roar, was a mighty growl of a wolf. A powerful growl that sounded like one’s you’ve heard on many direwolves now before. 

And just in the seconds before you had been startled awake, a gentle, dainty hand grasped at your shoulder covered in blood. When you turned, the figure was nothing more then a mist as if covered in vines of blue roses wrapping around your limbs. Just as the cold, blue roses came to wrap around your throat, the dragon behind roared like a wolf’s growl and a gentle, desperate voice of a young woman came to you from above. 

“Promise me, Ned.” 

You had startled awake, at that point and now found yourself here. In the room your sleepless nights on the island commonly found their way too. Walking to the side of it, your eyes narrowed as you spotted something tossed on it’s side carelessly. 

Reaching forward you grasped the wooden figurine and found it that of a dragon. Walking to the main seat you had many years watched your father sit at, you sat down gently. Leaning your forearms on the painted table, your hands held the wooden dragon with sharp eyes watching as you turned it in your hands. 

The dream was that of many you had before it, and your mind swirled without your permission to put it together of what you were being shown. Only, it wasn’t just the dream it connected too. It was the words of an intensity seen, it was the sight of a ghost. Your mind raced and flew words and images around in your head all staring at that dragon figure.  

When it connected, you didn’t know why. But it all screamed and cycled together into a blend coming into a painted image that was clear as day and suddenly your entire body felt as if it had fallen fifty feet in place. A shocking jolt in your mind and a twisting in your heart.

Your face morphed from that of a squinting thought, to a wide shock. Mouth slowly opening agape as your eyes widened in a sight only you were seeing in your clues. Many secrets scattered across the lands of Westeros, but your dreams had led you right to the heart of a secret none knew even existed. 

None perhaps, but one. One who went to the grave without telling a soul and you felt something faint inside you, realizing, now the other person who knew this secret, just might be you, and it shocked your heart into a stunned quiet until the sun rose in the outside behind you. Your hands had dropped the wooden figurine. 

The only dragon on the painted table, and you had dropped it right at the Prince’s Pass, as the wooden figurine fell, it cracked right down the middle. 

Splitting the dragon into two even halves, in the sands of Dorne. 

[mybworlds]

CHAPTER 2

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Masterlist

Before to start... please remember English is not my first language, so please be kind.

If you like or you want to reblog and/or leave a comment I'd appreciate 🥹

If you don't like my story, don't be rude and go away ✌🏻

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

There are two ways this story could have gone-if it was a story heard in the bar-either the protagonist turns her back on the mysterious and charming man or she gives him a chance, even though she feels she shouldn't.

You decide to look into his face and see a strange light in his eyes, very reminiscent of that magnetic, mysterious light that Tommy emanates. That light you've never been able to understand.

Who knows with the second Miller maybe?

What are you talking about, you don't have to understand anything at all! Tommy Miller is just your music teacher and this one in front of you is just his brother, a strange, somewhat know-it-all, cocky and unfortunately charming brother.

You don't know him.

You have only seen him for two minutes, but you already have mixed feelings.

On the one hand you want to run away, on the other you absolutely cannot avoid his gaze.

"So what have you figured out about me in less than a minute?" he challenges you with an amused air.

"You're older than Tommy, you're very confident, you're convinced you can do and say anything you want. No one will ever punish you, will they?"

You're not usually like this, you're definitely more resigned, reserved, but not with Joel Miller.

He smiles as he lowers his head and shakes it slowly, then looks back up at you.

"I like you, little girl. Tommy told me about you, but I thought you were a pretty little thing who just stood there and listened and obeyed."

Is that Tommy's idea of you?

Wait a minute, is that everyone's idea of you?

You are too focused on those words and pay no attention to the fact that he just called you, or perhaps his brother, pretty.

"Who is he now judging without even knowing me?" you chuckle at him with your chin out and crossing your arms.

He laughs, it's a warm laugh that sweeps over you, sweeps over you like a wave, like a warm gust of wind, like a ray of sunshine after weeks of rain.

Your heart loses a beat.

"I'd better go now," you say, hoping to get out of the situation that is taking on less and less clear tones.

"In a hurry to get back to your bubble?" he asks causing your heart to lose another beat.

"What bubble? What are you talking about?"

You know what he means, but what could he possibly know? You have never told Tommy anything about yourself.

Your music lessons were conducted in a specific order: you would come in, he would offer you a cup of coffee, which you promptly refused-your mother instilled too many negative thoughts in you-then Tommy would invite you to take the sheet music and finally he would take the guitar and make you strum a few chords, nothing complicated.

There was no room for any confidence either from you or from him. In fact, you had no idea whatsoever that he had a brother.

"You looked pretty sad to me when you got out of your mother's car," he replies for the first time without a trace of mockery or irony in his voice.

Your heart is pounding in your chest.

But how...?

You lower your gaze, losing that unfamiliar resourcefulness that had accompanied you until moments before.

"It's the same sadness I see in your eyes right now," he says again in a soft, calm tone.

"Let it go." you say in a whisper, lowering your gaze.

You don't want to talk about it, not with a man you barely know, you've never talked about it all the way with your friends, why should you talk about it with him? With a man much older than you who until that moment before has teased you by making you feel like a child?

He doesn't insist, thankfully, but the silence becomes harder and harder to break, and you have even more difficulty backtracking and going back to where you came from.

To that life that-even though you stubbornly deny it-becomes more limiting and narrower with each passing day.

"Do you want to come in?" he asks you in the same tone as before.

You look up and feel for the first time naked before that man; no one has ever really made you feel so helpless.

You have to run away.

"No." you reply, looking up and noticing in your tone of voice almost a trace of fright.

Before he can add anything else, you turn your back and leave. You run for the stairs, your heart in your throat.

You almost can't think.

When you are outside the building, you realize you have been holding your breath. You linger with your eyes on what to do for the remaining hour you were supposed to spend playing.

You cross the street, risking slipping on the thin layer of ice, and then head into the small bar across the street. It is a bar and you sit down in front of the counter.

"What can I get you, honey?" asks the young man. He is good-looking, with green eyes and dark hair, quite muscular.

He smiles at you.

"Um, a coffee." you reply, drumming your fingers on the counter and looking toward the doorway of the building you just came out of.

"Right away." he says, "This is not the first time I've seen you around here."

You look at him and notice that he is watching you intensely.

You remain with your mouth open.

You don't know what to say or whether to actually say anything.

You just nod.

"I don't want to look like a maniac," he clarifies, smiling at you. He has a bright smile.

"You don't look like one." you say smiling at him a little more relaxed, but not too much.

"Jack." he says holding out his hand to you. This is the second time someone has introduced himself today.

This time, unlike before, you shake the young man's hand by introducing yourself. He smiles, repeating your name.

You are not sure why you introduced yourself with him and not Joel. Not certainly because Joel is a man and Jack a young man. Age has nothing to do with it. Maybe it has to do with the fact that you are in a public place now, whereas before you were not.

You start talking about a lot of things, you find out that he is a sophomore in college, studying psychology, working there, and in his spare time volunteering. He seems to be a very interesting person.

You tell him about yourself, part of your life, the things you find most interesting about yourself, your love of writing, your passion for classical music, books, movies.

You talk about so many aspects of your life, you talk almost freewheeling. You should go back in, but maybe it is precisely because your mother is not home tonight because she is in the hospital that you don't mind being a little later and especially being with someone you think is nice and interesting.

It is almost eleven o'clock at night and Jack closes the shutter. You are both outside the club. It's cold. It looks like it's going to snow.

You shiver, clutching your shoulders, and he, with a smile, pulls off his jacket and hands you his.

"Is that better?" he asks you thoughtfully, you nod.

"Can I walk you home?" he asks you again.

Perhaps you might dare, but part of you decides it's better not to.

Jack seems to understand your intention from your gaze, he nods, gently caressing your left cheek.

"Forgive me, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself," he says, squeezing into your shoulders.

"No, no. Um, forgive me, just maybe another time."

His eyes light up "So would you like to meet again in the next few days? Maybe after you finish your music lessons?" he proposes, and you find yourself nodding with a small smile.

Jack seems like a very sweet guy, you like the way he thinks, the way he talks, you decide to give him a chance.

"See you next time, then," he says, giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

He is leaving, but you call him over and return his jacket, which Jack takes back with a smile, then leaves.

You have a smile on your face, see him leave, and then slowly walk home.

It's really cold.

There is a very strong wind, you huddle in your shoulders.

At some point you hear a honk not too far from you, you turn around, and at that moment the window of a dark SUV rolls down.

"Juliet, are you left alone?"

It's Joel Miller.

"Romeo's gone?"

"What do you want from me?" you ask him, crossing your arms and approaching his car.

"Nothing. I just asked you a question," he replies with a shrug.

You roll your eyes and resume walking, hearing the car walk slowly beside you.

"Was it a pleasant afternoon?" he asks you.

"Definitely better than how the evening is ending," you reply annoyed.

"Are you going to walk in the snow?"

"It's not snowing, it's just windy," you reply in an obvious tone.

"It's going to snow soon."

"Now you're in charge of the weather too? You know how to do everything!" you exclaim "Your wife will be satisfied!" you add, visibly shivering.

"Get in before you freeze to death!" he blurts out seeing you clutching yourself in your coat, you stop and look toward him "Come, I promise not to bite." he adds.

You look at the road, at the sky and then at Joel, who looks at you indecipherably, then you make up your mind: you open the door and get in.

"Here." he says slipping off his windbreaker and laying it on your shoulders in a sweet gesture of great care for you.

"Thank you." you say slipping on his jacket that is definitely big for you, then you see him turn on the hot air.

"I'll drive you home. Tell me what your address is."

You tell him your home address and he nods and puts the car in gear and drives off.

He looks at you briefly.

He does this a lot.

You don't know what to say.

"We're here." he informs you.

You make to get down immediately and launch into the house, but then you reconsider and make to return his jacket.

He shakes his head.

"Keep it. You give it back to me next time in class," he says.

"In class?" you ask still trembling.

"Don't tell me you've already forgotten your guitar lessons!" he exclaims "You really have a short memory!" he adds in what should be a serious tone, but the upturned corners of his mouth betray what was perhaps meant to be a reproach or who knows what else.

"Witty." you say "All right, then I'll see you in two days." you add in an exasperated tone as you get out of his SUV.

You are about to close the door, but then you reconsider "Thank you, you didn't have to."

"You're right, maybe I could have done like your Romeo and left you out in the cold, but I didn't have the courage."

"Whatever the reason was," you say, "thank you, obnoxious." you add, closing the door, as you close the door to your building an asshole escapes your lips.

It will be hard to have a teacher like him.

[unanswered-stars]

Unanswered Stars Azris 2024 Masterlist

Day 1: Contrasts - Two Souls Entangled

A short Azris poem

Day 2: Familiars - Our Hearts Collide

A song written by one of the Vanserra brothers for Eris and Azriel’s mating ceremony

Day 3: Contact - The Beginning and End of Friendship

The letters that were the beginning and end of Azriel and Eris Vanserra’s friendship

This was the fan favourite of the week. Lots of people had very, very strong emotions on this one.

Read at your own risk.

Day 4: Free Day - Heaven Help The Fool Who Falls in Love: The End

The first installment in my short fic of Azriel processing the death or Eris. Continuation of @the-moth-writes one shot

This is my baby and I love it. So excited to share more of this story!

Day 6: Solstice/Autumn Equinox - The Madness

Chapter 6 of Shadows of Regret and Redemption.

Born a one shot and is now actively running away from me. Who knows where we’re headed on this fun but turbulent ride?

It was so fun to see all of the amazing creators of @azrisweek and their amazing works! I was moved and inspired by so many of the amazing creations shared. I originally wasn’t planing on participating until a few days before but found as soon as I started that I simply couldn’t stop myself and I am so glad that I did. This was so incredibly fun and I love being apart of such and inspiring and uplifting community.

Thank you so much to everyone who interacted with any of my works in anyway whatsoever throughout the week it brought me so much joy. If you want to see more of anything, have anything thoughts, or want to ask me a question, please share any and everything in the comments/asks I want to hear it all.