#○ And Now we take our first steps forward... {Post V.}

[gcttacatchemall]

[✘] The blonde had a snarl on their face, their eyes seemed to to be blazing as they stared at Hau. A growl leaving them as they turned their head, nails digging into their palm enough to make them bleed. Shaking his head he walked off, he needed to blow off some steam. Although his Silvally, Argyro stayed behind as they looked at Hau. They tilted their head before slowly approaching Hau since what happened wasn’t exactly their fault.

‘Silval!’

[✘] Gladion’s hands clench at his sides, nails digging into his palms. They really were as daft as they had been back then. He bit back a growl as his eyes focused harshly on Hau, his irises looked luminescent; almost like they were glowing and were his pupils always that thin?

“You don’t even know the first thing about me-! All I’ve ever have happen to me was get used! Whether for the power I possessed or the influence I carried. Everyone always wants something more from me!!”

While he was glad he hadn’t lashed out physically, he had verbally. Hau didn’t deserve it but considering they had been right there when he snapped- it made him the target of his rage.

He jumped and dropped the ice cream, and it landed on his closed toe sandals and proceeded to smear everywhere.  “Hey, I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.”He’s saw Gladion miffed, but this is the first time he truly saw Gladion angry, at least have that anger directed at him. “I just wanted to help…you’re really nice and you deserve a friend and….I just wanted to do something nice.”

I’m the worst!

[fictionalmenxyn]

ꨄ𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭ꨄ

Pairing: Drew Starkey x actress!reader (established relationship) (prompt, see post below for context/what prompt is)

(Also ik Drew has sister/s. Idk how old they actually are so imma make it up to fit the story line) (reqs are open!!!)

Warnings: language, SMUT, p in v, no mentions of protection (wrap before you tap), detailed-ish smut. (First smut post so sos if it’s bad!)

𐬺ꨄ𐬺

Being back in your hometown felt great. After finishing the latest season of Outer Banks, you both wanted a small break. So that’s exactly what you did.

It was currently 11:38pm, all the younger siblings were in the basement. You were the eldest out of your siblings. You had two brothers and one sister. Your sister was 17 as your brothers were 15 and 13. Drew’s sisters were both 18 and 19.

You and Drew were in the kitchen. While all the siblings were in the movie room (your parents converted basement). You wore one of Drew’s grey sweatshirts and a pair of (has favourite) navy cycling shorts. Drew wore some grey sweats, his Calvin waistband poking out of the waistband of his sweats.

You sat on the island counter, a bowl of grapes in your lap. Drew leaned against the counter opposite you. You were watching something on your phone, he just watched you. God he could eat you up, right here, right now.

He stepped forward, standing between your legs. He placed the bowl down onto the counter next to you. He placed his hands either side of you, on the counter. “Hey, baby?” You look up to him. “Yeah?”

He grinned a little “you know… we haven’t had, ‘us’ time in a while… with all the filming and stuff… and you here, in my sweatshirt and those little navy shorts you know I love dearly… makes me think things…”

You smiled, putting your phone down “oh yeah? What things?” He chuckled lowly, moving his face closer to yours “well, all our siblings are in the basement… our parents are all over my parents place… we could head up to your room?” You smirked. Pecking his lips “sure, ba-”

Next thing you know you’re over his shoulder as he carried you to your room.

He opened the door with his spare hand. Then closing it with his foot. He walked over to your bed and placing you down.

Climbing, so he’s hovering over you. He moves his lips against yours. Kissing you as if he hasn’t in years. Drew was one for physical touch, he was heavy on hand holding and kisses. You kiss back, matching his energy. He groaned against your lips. He pulled away, only a centimetre. He whispered “god missed this, so much… gonna take you, right here.. right now, okay baby?” You nodded “yeah…”

His hands go to your thighs, pulling them apart. Letting himself kneel between them. He starts to kiss you again as his hands rub your thighs gently. His hands soon get to the waistband of your cycling shorts. He mumbled against your lips “love these shorts… but they gotta go… getting in the way of my sweet girl…” he tugs down your cycling shorts in one swift movement. Discarding your shorts to the floor.

His hips pressed against your pantie covered entrance. You hummed “fuck, Drew…miss you…” he knew what you were referring to. “Yeah? Missed my cock, babe?” You nodded. He grinned. He rolled his hips against you. Causing a soft gasp. God you could never get over how big he was. Being lovers for three and a half years, still you couldn’t fathom how huge he was. Still took all of him though, which he loved.

He rolled his hips again, he groaned “fuck baby…” he grabbed both waistbands of his sweats and boxers. Taking them off together, at the same time. Making him completely naked. He climbed back between you. You softly moaned as you felt him rub against you. He grinned “shall we get rid of this, sweetheart?” He tugs on your panties. You nod, not wanting to waste anytime.

You were completely bare, besides the oversized sweatshirt of his still on you. Just how he liked you, bare, but in his clothes.

He rubbed against you again. He groaned at how excited you could get, every time. Seeing you drenched for him, made him feral. He slowly pushed in, making small rolls as he adds more of himself to you. Causing soft moans each thrust.

Once he was completely in, you leaned down onto you. His face close to yours “gonna make you feel so good, sweet girl… I love you… so much.” You press a kiss to his forehead “I love you too, Drew.”

His fingertips rub up your forearms. Then interlocking and holding your hands into the mattress.

He started to slowly thrust, causing you to gasp. The noises becoming music to his ears. He slowly started to lick up the pace. His one hand lets go of yours, moving under the sweatshirt and needing your breast softly and lovingly.

Meanwhile, downstairs, both girls from each side were wanting you both for help. The coffee machine wasn’t working, only you and Drew knew how it works. Since both parents were over Drew’s family’s house; you two were their only help.

Drew moved his hand down from your chest to your thigh. Pushing it into the mattress more. His thrusts started to get sloppy and quick, every other would be hard thrusts.

You were a moaning mess, Drew smiles, knowing he does this to you. And only you.

Drew spoke “fuck, you look so good..taking all of me, like a good girl… always one f’me aren’t ya? Love when I fill you, don’t you?” You nodded. Your head tilting back into the pillows. He smiled.

Drew picked up the pace, moving the fastest he could go. You could feel the edge staring to come. You were almost there, about to finish. He could feel it, he was almost there too. Loving how you feel against him “feelin’ so good f’me baby… ssshhiitt…” he moaned. You rolled you eyes as his thrust became harder than before.

Both sisters headed upstairs, to the second floor. They walked down the hallway. As they got closer to your room, they walked over to the door.

You mumble to Drew “Drew, fuck… hmm shit.. gonna- ohhh…” Drew grinned “gonna finish with me, baby?” You nodded. Your free hand coming up to his bicep as you dig your nails into his muscle. He moaned at how much that turned him on.

Your sister knocked the door and opened it. Drew’s eyes widen, quickly pulling the covers over your lower bodies. He leaned down into you.

Both sister’s eyes widened. Your sister, Kayla spoke “what?! Ew you guys! Couldn’t you wait till we were all in bed?!?” You chuckled. Drew on the other hand… he hid his face in the crook of your neck. His intwined hand squeezing yours. He felt embarrassed, not cause of being caught making love to you. But the fact it was his sister, you’ve been walked in on a few times. Austin has walked in on you guys a few times on set; that being the reason you don’t do it on set anymore. But when it’s family, that’s different.

Drew spoke against your shoulder “what do you two want?!” Kayla giggled “uh the coffee machine isn’t working, we wanted to see if you two could fix it.. but clearly you’re busy.” You chucked “oh shut up Kay!” She playfully gasped “what?! I can’t help it if you two are getting frisky while we’re all awake still!” You playfully roll your eyes “you done now??” Kayla chuckles and nods “well let you get back to your… entertainment…” you flip off your sister “close the door in the way out!”

As she shuts the door, she calls out “make sure to lock it next time, dad didn’t put one on there for no reason…”

Once they left, Drew removed his head from the crook of your neck. He looked down at you “um…” you chuckles softly. Carding your fingers through his hair. “Turned off, huh?” He nodded. Not wanting to admit it, but he couldn’t lie to you. You knew exactly what to do. You grabbed both his wrists and gently tug him closer to you.

You whispered “want me to ride you? I’ll let you kiss my chest when I do it?? How’d that sound?” He moaned softly. “I’ll take that as a yes?” He nodded and gently pulled out before flipping you both over.

Letting you straddle him as he leaned back against the headboard. He placed his hands in your hips, just wanting to touch you. You slowly started to rock your hips. You leaned forward, letting his mouth attach to your chest. Moving from the left side to the right. He worked away as you rocked your hips. Slowly picking up the pace. You moaned his name. He groaned and started to rock up into you.

When you felt that similar feeling in your lower stomach, once again. You felt his hands move under your thighs. Holding you up so he could fastly rock up into you. Both of you moaning together. You gasp “Drew! Gonna!” He replied “right there with ya…. Fuck baby, cum on me, sweetheart… so fuckin good” You held onto his shoulders. Finishing down his cock, he groaned as his pace slowed down. He soon came a second or two after you. His hips stutter as he finished too. He moans your name as he does.

He then puts you back down on his lap. He tucked some hair behind your ear. He placed his hand in the back of your neck. Pulling you in for a few soft kisses. Then pulling away and resting your forehead to his. He mumbles “forgot about the lock, haven’t done it in here for a while, huh?” You chuckle. Agreeing with him. Last time was when you were both seventeen. Both of you wanted to be each other’s firsts, thinking it was better to be close to someone when you both do it for the first time. Which can come off as cute. Even if you didn’t date till a few years ago. He presses a few more kisses to your lips and forehead before starting up a bath for you both. Which was then followed by some movies and falling asleep in each other’s arms.

𐬺ꨄ𐬺

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts V.

Summary:

'My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep, the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite' - William Shakespeare (Romeo & Juliet).

Aemond and Valaena arrive at Storms End and the dragons begin their dance with devestating concequnces for both the Blacks and Greens.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Secret Relationship, Funeral, Grief, Mild Threats, Mild Violence, Dragon Battle, Death.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 5079

A.N - Don't hate me, things must be this way for a reason!!

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

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Valaena stood next to her brothers, Jace and Luke, her eyes fixed on the pyre where her little sister, Visenya, was being laid to rest.

The crackling flames illuminated Rhaenyra and Daemon as they stood at the head of the pyre, their hands joined in silent farewell to their daughter. All around them, heads were bowed in respect, the weight of grief heavy on the air.

Valaena could feel the cut on her palm sting as she pressed her hand to her stomach.

As she watched her mother and Daemon, Valaena wondered if what she was about to do was too cruel, to subject her mother to yet more pain.

But there really was no other way, Aemond was right there was only one way for them to be together now.

As the final words of mourning were whispered, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the sombre silence. Valaena furrowed her brow and turned, watching as Ser Erryk stepped forward.

He stopped behind Rhaenyra, reaching into his bag and pulling out a gleaming golden crown—that once belonged to King Viserys. He knelt, holding it up with reverence, his voice steady as he swore his loyalty.

“I swear to ward the Queen, with all my strength and give my blood for hers. I shall take no wife hold no lands and father no children.”

Daemon stepped forward, taking the crown from Ser Erryk’s hands. He turned to Rhaenyra, his face filled with fierce devotion.

With a deliberate motion, he placed the crown upon her head, then bent his knee before her, his voice ringing out loud and clear. “My queen.”

The words seemed to resonate through the gathered crowd, and Valaena, Jace, and Luke immediately bent their knees.

Soon, everyone in attendance followed suit, paying homage to Rhaenyra and acknowledging her  as their Queen.

After the funeral, the gathering made their way back inside Dragonstone. The heavy doors of the hall closed behind them, and Daemon stepped forward, announcing Rhaenyra to the assembled lords and knights.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

Rhaenyra, now wearing her father’s crown, approached the painted table with determination. “What is our standing?” she asked, her voice sharp and commanding.

Daemon stood beside her. “We have 30 knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and 300 men-at-arms. Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves much to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there, but I cannot speak to the numbers.”

Valaena stepped forward. “You already have declarations from Celtigar, Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, and Bar Emmon.”

Rhaenyra nodded, acknowledging her daughter’s support. “My lady mother was an Arryn. The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

Maester Gerardys spoke up. “Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace. With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I’ve already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

Rhaenyra’s expression tightened. “Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed. He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to treat with him myself.”

As the discussions continued, Steffon Darklyn stepped forward. “What about Winterfell and Storm’s End?”

At the mention of Storm’s End, Valaena felt her stomach churn. She tried to steady herself, taking slow, deep breaths to keep from being overtaken by the wave of nausea. But the feeling of unease persisted.

Lord Bartimos stepped forward. “With House Stark, the rest of the North will follow. But perhaps an offer of marriage will convince Lord Stark to declare for the Queen.”

Rhaenyra turned to him, her brow furrowing. “Whose hand do you suggest I offer, my lord?”

Bartimos glanced towards Valaena. “Princess Valaena, Your Grace. She is your heir, and a match between her and Lord Stark would be most beneficial.”

Valaena’s hand instinctively went to the cut on her palm, a reminder of the bond she had forged with Aemond the night before.

She traced the mark lightly with her fingertips, remembering his words, his vow to her. Her heart raced in her chest, but she forced herself to take a deep breath.

"I will agree to the match, mother," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Rhaenyra studied her daughter, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. “Are you sure?”

Valaena nodded, her eyes flickering to the painted table. “Yes. I will do what I must in order to support my queen.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened with pride, and she gave a short nod before turning her attention to other matters.

“And our enemies?”

Daemon’s face darkened. “We have no friends among the Lannisters. Tyland has served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.”

Valaena, still feeling sick, forced herself to refocus on the discussion. “Without the Lannisters, you are not likely to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth.”

An older lord stepped forward, his voice blunt but respectful. “Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.”

Rhaenyra’s expression tightened. “The Greens have dragons as well.”

Jace added, “Three adults.”

Daemon’s smirk returned. “We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys. Your oldest children have Silverwing, Vermax, and Arrax. Baela has Moondancer.”

Rhaenyra sighed. “Daemon, none of our dragons have been to war.”

“We need a place to gather,” Daemon replied, eyes gleaming with ambition. “A toehold large enough to house a sizable host. Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround King’s Landing with the dragons. And we could have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.”

Just then, Ser Erryk stepped forward, interrupting the conversation. “Your Grace a ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.”

Daemon charged past Rhaenyra, barking orders. “Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies.”

Rhaenyra followed him quickly, but Valaena remained behind, standing with Jace, Luke, and the other lords.

A wave of sickness washed over her once more, and she had to take several deep breaths to keep from vomiting.

As she steadied herself, she noticed Rhaenys watching her closely, a curious look on her face.

Valaena quickly turned her attention to Luke, who was fiddling with one of the dragon figurines on the painted table.

A heavy tension filled the room as Daemon and Rhaenyra returned, their expressions grim. Daemon was the first to speak, his voice laced with frustration. “The simple truth is this: we have more dragons than Aegon.”

Rhaenyra, however, looked unsettled as she added, “I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone.”

Valaena, standing with her brothers and the gathered lords, stepped forward, her brow furrowed. “Were terms delivered?”

Rhaenyra nodded, her face betraying no emotion. “If I acknowledge Aegon as king and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne, in exchange, he will confirm my possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to you, my trueborn daughter, upon my death. Jacaerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark and all the lands and holdings of House Velaryon. My sons, Lucerys, Aegon, and Viserys, will also be given places of high honour at court. And the King, in his good grace, will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent.”

Valaena’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. Everything Aemond had told her the night before was true.

The offer was generous, but the underlying manipulation was unmistakable. She glanced briefly at Daemon, whose face darkened with anger.

“It’s a farce,” Daemon scoffed, his voice cutting through the room. “Offering you that which you already possess, and I would rather feed all of our children to the dragons before I bend the knee to that drunken usurper cunt of a king-”

Rhaenyra ignored his biting tone, her gaze unwavering. “As Queen, what is my true duty to the realm, Lord Bartimos? Ensuring peace and unity? Or that I sit the Iron Throne, no matter the cost?”

Before Lord Bartimos could respond, Daemon interjected, his voice sharp. “That’s your father talking.”

Rhaenyra’s expression hardened. “My father is dead. And he chose me as his successor-to defend the realm, not cast it headlong into war.”

Daemon’s eyes flashed with fire. “Well, the enemy has already declared war. What are you going to do about it?”

Before the argument could escalate further, Valaena stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “That is enough. This back and forth is getting us nowhere. The most important thing now is for you to establish who your allies are.”

Just as the tension in the room seemed ready to boil over, a familiar voice broke through. “Quite right, Princess.”

All eyes turned to see Lord Corlys Velaryon, hobbling into the room, leaning on a wooden cane. His weathered face showed signs of recent illness, but his presence was commanding as ever.

Rhaenyra’s face softened with relief. “Lord Corlys, it brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again.”

Corlys cast a glance at the painted table, surveying the situation. “Your declared allies? Too few to win a war for the throne.”

Rhaenyra remained steadfast. “We would also hope to have the support of Houses Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark.”

Corlys raised a sceptical brow. “Hope is the fool’s ally.”

Rhaenyra’s voice grew resolute. “Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house. But all of them swore oaths to me, and soon terms will be delivered to Cregan Stark, offering him a marriage with Valaena in exchange for his support.”

At the mention of her name, Valaena stiffened, but she kept her expression neutral. She had already agreed to the match, but hearing it spoken aloud brought a fresh wave of dread.

Corlys nodded approvingly. “You have the full support of our fleet and house. But what would be more beneficial is a total blockade of the shipping lanes. If we seal the Gullet, we can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to King’s Landing.”

Lord Bartimos added, “When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King’s Landing, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Greens’ surrender.”

Daemon’s eyes gleamed with ambition. “If we are to have enough swords to surround King’s Landing, you must first secure the support of Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Storm’s End.”

Maester Gerardys stepped forward, nodding. “I’ll prepare the ravens, Your Grace.”

Jacaerys, always eager to prove himself, stepped forward. “Send us. We should bear those messages ourselves. Dragons fly faster than ravens.”

Rhaenyra considered her son’s words, then nodded in agreement. “Very well. Prince Jacaerys will fly north, to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will go to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, Lady Jeyne Arryn-”

Valaena remembering Aemond’s words, stepped forward and said “-I will fly south to Storm’s End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon.”

Rhaenyra smiled and nodded “We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore. And the cost of breaking them.”

Valaena stood before the mirror as she worked through the final braid in her dark hair, each strand meticulously woven to stay in place during the flight.

She dressed herself in her riding leathers, the familiar feel of the well-worn material bringing a small comfort amid the tension.

Fastening the chain that secured her red dragon-scale patterned cloak across her chest, she pulled on her gloves, the last barrier between her and the journey ahead.

With a slow breath, she let her eyes drift to her reflection. Her gaze settled on her stomach, her gloved hand hovering there as she closed her eyes, whispering a silent prayer that what she was about to do was right.

Her heart felt heavy with more than just the weight of her mission; it carried secrets, promises, and a growing sense of duty.

A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts. "It's time, Princess," a maid called softly from the hallway.

"I'm coming," Valaena replied. She took one final look around her chambers, a place of comfort and warmth, but now filled with uncertainty.

With a steadying breath, she turned and walked out, her footsteps echoing as she joined her mother and brothers on the balcony just off the grand hall.

Rhaenyra stood tall, her expression both resolute and weary.

As Valaena approached, her mother began to speak, her voice commanding yet tender. "It’s been said that as Targaryen’s, we are closer to gods than to men. And the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms-we must answer to their gods."

Rhaenyra’s gaze swept across her children. "If you take this errand, you go as messengers not as warriors. You must take no part in any fighting. Swear it to me now under the eyes of the Seven."

Two servants stepped forward, carrying an enormous holy book emblazoned with the seven-pointed star. Valaena, Jace, and Luke each placed their hands on the ancient tome.

"I swear it," they said in unison, their voices mingling with the heavy air of responsibility that lingered over them.

Rhaenyra handed Jace a rolled-up piece of parchment. "Cregan Stark is closer to your age than he is to mine. I would hope, that as men, you can find some common interest. But I do hope you get a sense of the man to whom I offer your sister’s hand." Jace accepted the scroll with a nod, replying, "Yes, Your Grace."

Next, Rhaenyra turned to Luke, giving him another scroll. "Lady Jeyne Arryn is our kin. I expect you to receive a warm welcome but be mindful of others seeking her favour."

Luke took the scroll from her, his young face serious. "Yes, mother—Your Grace."

Finally, Rhaenyra faced Valaena. "Storm's End is just a short flight from here. Lord Borros is an eternally proud man. He will be honoured to host a princess of the realm and her dragon."

Valaena accepted her own scroll, bowing her head. "Yes, Your Grace."

"Go to it, then," Rhaenyra said, her voice firm, but there was a softness in her eyes.

Valaena turned to leave, but something pulled her back. She spun around, quickly closing the distance between them, and wrapped her arms around her mother in a tight embrace.

 "Avy jorrāelan, muña," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion (I love you mother).

Rhaenyra chuckled softly, returning the embrace. "You're squeezing me too tightly, sweet girl."

Valaena pulled back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Sorry," she murmured, trying to compose herself.

Rhaenyra placed a gentle hand on her daughter's cheek, searching her face. "Is everything alright?"

Valaena nodded quickly, though her body betrayed her as her hands trembled. "Everything is fine."

Rhaenyra frowned slightly. "You're shaking. If you do not wish to journey to Storm’s End—"

"I must go," Valaena interrupted, her voice firm. "I will do my duty to my queen."

Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, lingering for a moment as if to pass on strength through the gesture. Valaena gave a weak smile before stepping back.

She turned to Jace, hugging him tightly. "Naejot se hūra se arlī lēkia," she whispered, their bond unspoken yet ever strong (To the moon and back brother).

Jace squeezed her hand in return, his expression sombre. "And to you, sister."

Next, she approached Luke, pulling him into her arms. She removed one of the beaded bracelets she wore and fastened it around his wrist.

"Naejot gaomagon ao ȳgha," she said softly, her voice full of affection. (To keep you safe).

Luke glanced down at the bracelet, his eyes wide with surprise and gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered.

Valaena gave him one last smile before stepping away, her heart heavy as she looked at her mother one last time, committing her face to memory.

Then without another word, she turned and descended the steps leading to the caverns where Silverwing awaited her.

Her pulse quickened with each step she took, her heart pounding against her chest as the cool air of the caverns greeted her. The sound of Silverwing shifting in her lair echoed in the distance

Valaena approached Silverwing, her dragon’s presence filling the cavern with a sense of calm and strength.

She ran her hand along the familiar, warm silver scales, the ridges rough beneath her fingers. “Zȳha jēda,” she whispered softly (It’s time).

Silverwing responded with a determined trill, her eyes glinting in the dim light of the cavern.

Without hesitation, she lowered her massive shoulder, allowing Valaena to climb up and into the saddle.

The motion was second nature now strapping herself in, she tightened her grip on the reins, her heart steady but her mind swirling.

"Sōves," she commanded, her voice strong, and with that, Silverwing lumbered out of the cavern, the ground shaking slightly beneath the dragon’s weight. (Fly).

The cool sea air hit them as they emerged, Silverwing spreading her great wings wide and pushing off the rocky outcrop with a powerful beat.

The rush of air roared in Valaena’s ears as they ascended, circling high above Dragonstone. The island's jagged cliffs and the roiling seas below looked small from their height.

The dark clouds and distant thunder mirrored the tension she felt in her chest.

Soon, she was joined by Jace on Vermax and Luke on Arrax on either side of her, their dragons majestic as they cut through the skies.

They were soon followed by Rhaenys on Meleys. Together, the four dragons flew in formation, their powerful wings moving in synchronized rhythm, the sound like distant thunder.

Valaena cast a glance at Jace and Luke, their figures resolute upon their dragons. Her heart clenched.

Let them be victorious, let them be safe.

One by one, they began to break off. Rhaenys on Meleys peeled away first, banking sharply to the east to patrol the Gullet.

Then Jace and Luke turned their dragons north. Valaena’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, knowing how important his mission was.

Valaena turned in her saddle, watching her brothers until they became distant specks against the horizon.

She whispered another prayer under her breath, hoping they would succeed in their tasks—and return unharmed.

With a deep breath, she refocused her mind. There was still much to do. Her own destination awaited, and Lord Borros Baratheon would not be an easy man to sway.

Aemond’s words from the night before echoed in her mind, his voice a low hum as she remembered the plan.

"You can do this” she whispered to herself.

Silverwing responded, her wings beating faster as they adjusted their course southward.

Valaena leaned forward, her eyes fixed ahead, as Dragonstone disappeared behind her.

The rain fell in sheets as Silverwing descended toward Storm’s End, her massive wings slicing through the storm-laden sky.

Valaena’s heart pounded in her chest as the dragon landed with a heavy thud, the ground trembling beneath her. She dismounted quickly, her boots splashing in the mud.

As her feet touched the ground, she reached out, running her hand along Silverwing’s warm, familiar scales.

The heat radiating from her dragon comforted her, the low, contented rumble from Silverwing reminding her she wasn’t alone.

But then, a deeper, more menacing growl echoed across the courtyard. Valaena froze. Her heart skipped a beat, and she slowly turned, her breath catching in her throat.

Vhagar.

The monstrous dragon loomed behind the castle walls, her hulking form visible even through the sheets of rain. If Vhagar was here, that could only mean one thing—Aemond was here, and everything was going according to his plan.

Valaena swallowed hard, her stomach knotting with anticipation and dread. She steeled herself, pushing away the swirl of emotions clawing at her insides. She could not afford to falter now.

The knights of Storm’s End approached her, their armour clinking softly as they trudged through the rain.

“I am Princess Valaena Velaryon, and I have a message for Lord Borros Baratheon, on behalf of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

The knight studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Come. Lord Borros Baratheon waits in the Great Hall."

Valaena cast a final glance back at Silverwing, before following the knights into the castle. The courtyard blurred around her as the rain soaked through her cloak and riding leathers.

The heavy wooden doors of Storm’s End slammed shut behind them with a resounding thud.

Inside, the Great Hall was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows across the stone walls.

Lord Borros sat on his makeshift throne, his figure round and imposing, his eyes sharp as they landed on the drenched princess before him.

“Princess Valaena of House Velaryon,” a herald announced, and all eyes in the hall turned toward her.

Her gaze shifted toward the side of the hall, where Aemond stood, his posture relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back.

He was speaking with one of Borros’s daughters, a striking young woman with dark hair and sharp eyes, who seemed completely captivated by him.

Valaena’s stomach churned with jealousy and anger—how dare that Baratheon bitch look at Aemond in such a way, he was her husband, and she was carrying his child.

Valaena took a deep breath and ignored the urge to go over there and slit that bitch from ear to ear, for even daring to look at Aemond in such a manner.

 “Lord Borros, I have brought you a message from my mother—the Queen,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing within her.

Borros chuckled, his voice booming through the hall. “Yet earlier today, I received an envoy from the King. Which is it—King or Queen? The House of the Dragon doesn’t seem to know who rules it!” His laughter was coarse, echoing in the dim hall.

Valaena glanced at Aemond, who smirked at her with a tilt of his head, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Borros grew impatient. “Well, then. What’s your mother’s message?”

Valaena handed the scroll to one of the knights, who quickly passed it to Borros. The Lord of Storm’s End squinted at the parchment, frowning. He summoned a Maester to read the letter aloud.

As the Maester relayed Rhaenyra’s message, Valaena could feel Aemond’s eye burning into her, though she refused to look at him.

Her clothes were soaked through, and she stood in a small puddle of rainwater, feeling the weight of every gaze in the hall.

Once the Maester finished, Borros leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. “Remind me of my father’s oath. King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids, which of my daughters will your brothers wed?”

Valaena hesitated before answering. “My lord, I am afraid that only two of my brothers are of age, and neither is free to marry. They are already betrothed.”

Borros frowned, clearly unsatisfied. “And what of you, Princess?”

Her breath caught in her throat. "Me, my lord?"

Borros leaned forward, his interest piqued. “I no longer have a wife. You are of age to marry and, if you are anything like your mother, I am sure you will give me many sons.”

Valaena’s heart hammered in her chest, and she risked a glance at Aemond. His jaw clenched tightly, and his hand now rested on the pommel of his sword, his face a mask of barely contained fury at the Lord audacity.

“My lord, I am not free to marry either,” Valaena said, her voice firm. “My brother flies north to offer my hand in marriage to Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell.”

The hall fell silent. Aemond’s eye narrowed, his grip on his sword tightening. The Baratheon girl beside him looked perplexed, but Aemond paid her no mind.

His rage was palpable, radiating from him like a storm, his wife had just declared she had been betrothed to that northern dog.

Aemond had to force himself to calm down, they had a plan, and he had to stick to it, he couldn't let his possessiveness over Valaena ruin what they had practised.

Borros scoffed. “Then you come with empty hands. Tell your mother the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog she can whistle up at need.”

Valaena dipped her head in a polite bow. “I will take your answer to the Queen.”

As she turned to leave, the wind howled outside, and the storm raged even harder. But before she could take a step, Aemond’s voice cut through the hall like a blade. “Wait, my lady Strong.”

Valaena froze, her heart pounding.

“Did you really think you could fly about the realm, stealing my brother’s throne, without paying the cost?”

She turned to face him, her heart pounding. “I will not fight you,” she said. “I came as a messenger, not a warrior.”

Aemond laughed, withdrawing a dagger from his belt and tossing it at her feet. “Fight would be little challenge. No, I want you to put out your eye. As payment for the one your bastard brother carved from my skull.”

Valaena’s voice was cold, unyielding. “It is not my debt to pay, besides I thought your claim of Vhagar was worth the loss of an eye, you yourself declared it was a fair exchange. Or is your hoary old bitch of a dragon no longer worth it?”

Aemond’s smirk faded. His face twisted with faux anger, her words cutting deep. “You dare speak of Vhagar that way?” he hissed. “You know nothing of what it means to command the largest dragon in the world-”

“Oh, I know a thing or two about dragons,” Valaena retorted. “Do you truly believe Vhagar could withstand a combined attack from Silverwing, Caraxes, and Meleys? She may be the largest, but even she is not invincible.”

Aemond simply stared at her, his expression unreadable as he processed her words.

"-You always seem so eager to remind everyone how large Vhagar is," said Vaelyssa, a sly smile playing on her lips. "-One might wonder if you're trying to overcompensate for other-smaller matters-"

Borros Baratheon’s other daughters who were huddled together beside their father clasped their hands to their mouths and let out a melodious giggle that echoed around the hall, the intent behind Valaena’s comment clear for all to understand.

Aemond charged toward her, picking up the dagger. “Give me your eye, or I will take it bastard!”

Before he could close the distance, Lord Borros quickly rose from his throne. “Not in my hall!” he roared.

Aemond came to a sudden halt, breathing heavily, his eye locked on Valaena.

“-The girl came as an envoy. I’ll not have bloodshed beneath my roof. Take Princess Valaena back to her dragon. Now”

Valaena was then surrounded by guards and as she cast Aemond a look and she saw him nod sharply and mouth a single word—go.

She nodded back before she turned and followed the guards out into the storm and back to Silverwing.

Then without a word, Aemond stormed out of the hall, his boots echoing off the stone floor with each purposeful step.

Lord Borros called out after him, his voice reverberating through the chamber, "Prince Aemond, wait!"

Aemond didn’t stop. His jaw clenched as he pushed past the guards and courtiers that crowded the entrance of Storm’s End, his mind singularly focused.

He wasn’t interested in what Borros had to say. His thoughts were consumed by Valaena and their plan.

Valaena rushed through the storm, her boots slipping slightly on the rain-soaked stones as she reached Silverwing.

Her hands found the dragon’s warm, wet scales, and she pressed her palms against them, feeling the steady rhythm of her companion’s breath.

“Dokimarvose, Silverwing,” Valaena murmured urgently, her voice barely audible over the howling wind. “Lykirī se Rȳbās, tāemītsos naejot se kȳvanon.” (Focus, be calm and listen. Stick to the plan).

Silverwing let out a soft trill, her massive body shifting slightly as if to acknowledge the words. Valaena quickly climbed into the saddle, the leather straps slippery beneath her fingers. She fastened herself in, securing the reins tightly in her gloved hands.

With a deep breath, she shouted, “Sōves!” (Fly!)

Silverwing spread her wings and launched into the sky with powerful strokes, the wind and rain battering them as they ascended through the storm.

Valaena clenched her jaw against the force of the gale, her heart pounding in her chest. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the swirling clouds as they climbed higher and higher.

But then, a roar echoed through the storm, deep and earth-shaking. Valaena twisted in her saddle.

Through the thick clouds, she saw the hulking form of Vhagar chasing after them.

Tugging on the reins, she leaned hard to the left and shouted, “Aderī, Silverwing! Elēnās geptot!” (Quickly, bank left!)

Silverwing responded instantly, banking sharply to the left, her wings slicing through the rain. But Vhagar followed with terrifying persistence.

“Embrot!” Valaena shouted next, her voice straining against the wind. (Down!)

Silverwing tucked her wings tight against her body and dove sharply, cutting through the clouds like a blade.

The sudden dive gave them a burst of speed, and Vhagar, being as large as she was, couldn’t move as swiftly. Valaena glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see the growing distance between them.

The time had come to carry out Aemond’s plan, the only way they could be together, she just hoped her mother in time would understand why this had to happen.

Valaena tugged on the reins and commanded, “Pālegon!” (Turn!)

Silverwing arched through the air, twisting around to face Vhagar once more. The massive dragon loomed ahead, her wings spread wide, dark against the stormy sky.

Valaena braced herself, quickly hooking the spare strap from her saddle to her waist, making sure it was secure.

She reached for the chain that held her dragon-scaled cloak in place, tearing it from her shoulders and letting it fly off into the wind, the heavy fabric disappearing into the storm.

“Gīda, Silverwing” Valaena whispered, her voice calm despite the pounding of her heart. (Steady.)

Silverwing steadied her flight as they closed in on Vhagar, the two dragons hovering in the sky, locked in a face-off.

Rain poured down in torrents, streaking across Valaena’s face, but she ignored it, her eyes fixed on Aemond.

He was there, atop Vhagar, as he raised his voice and yelled, “Drakarys!”

The word reverberated through the air, and flames erupted from Vhagar’s massive jaws, a torrent of fire rushing toward them.

But Valaena was ready as she shouted with all her might, “Drakarys!”

Silverwing answered her call, unleashing a blaze of fire in return. The two dragons’ flames met in the air, clashing in a violent explosion of heat and light.

The storm around them was momentarily drowned out by the roar of the fire, illuminating the dark sky as the two mighty beasts faced each other

TBC

[velvet-vox]

The russian worker drones family; murder drone's greatest small scale tragedy.

As long as I can recall there has never been in my mind a story quite as painful and heartbreaking and yet quite as engaging as the tragedy of Doll, Yeva, and her husband, who's lack of a clear name doesn't detract from the impact of this story or the death of the other two.

The last time such an emotional impact was left in my brain was with Noximilliem Coxen the Watchmaker from Wakfu, who I will assuredly make a comparison post with Doll, as they both hit extremely similar themes and ideas while still having such different execution and story beats that it almost makes you question why would you even compare them in the first place.

Tragedy is deceptively hard to write right and make meaningful, as just crippling your characters won't do, because at that point it just becomes drama porn and as boring as a low effort pre-schoolers program. Seemingly unfeasible in a show such as Murder Drones; an horror/comedy/romance where an abused child repaired and made friends with a robot only for said robot to cause the destruction of her planet and... something else.

Buckle up cause these robots emotions might not even be considered real inside the fictional setting but our pain allows what would otherwise be a pretty standard horror scenario to transcend into the bane of my existence as we take a look at the small, inconsequential tale of the russian worker drones family.

Yeva

Starting off with Yeva as the oldest member of our family in terms of chronological relevance, we get our first peek into the way this story plays out due to Yeva being seemingly mute by choice or programming, which retroactively sets up the storytelling method used; Yeva doesn't speak a single word in this scene or the one that precedes it, but we still get a clear rendition of her character by her standoffish behaviour juxtaposed with her caring and nurturing nature, it's debatable whether or not her and Nori are sisters, but you wouldn't be blamed for thinking that judging by the way Yeva tends to Nori after the banishment of the solver, being chained up and experimented upon didn't stop her from staying positive in the midst of adversity and could theoretically be the reason why she was the only correctly patched drone in the facility.

During the V attack she sacrificed her own life in order to protect Doll. An act that, in the long run, ended up being whortless, but that cemented Yeva has an unyielding positive influence in a world stormed by negativity and death.

The father

We know jack s##t about this man but that won't stop us from analysing him. The most interesting things about him are his relationship with Yeva and the fact that the picture of V seen in episode 2 was made by him. He's, admittedly, a white canvas for head cannons, but thematically he keeps a recurring motif that this post will touch upon in his final entry:

Doll

And now, for the crown jewel of this family. The protagonist's dark reflection. Not many people can claim to have been messed up as hard as Doll was. Sure, death is still death, but with it comes a certain sense of finality and rest. Instead, by contrast Doll's death is so brutal and devastating because although it's something that she has been calling upon herself since she started to consume other drones for her goals, it's just so heartbreaking because she managed to achieve absolutely nothing despite being one step forward everyone else in the story; she never got better, never reademned herself, made their parents sacrifice worthless, died almost entirely off camera completely alone and scared, and as her last compensation act she managed to give Uzi a barely useful warning before having her probably still alive consciousness eaten by an eldritch atrocity. At the end of the day, she was deemed worthless by the main antagonist and quickly brushed aside.

And we go back to a certain reoccurring theme regarding this family: Yeva never speaks. Her husband is never given a name. Doll is literally a toy name. Their story plays out in the shadow of the main plot. Every single aspect regarding them paints their existence as worthless and inconsequential (classic eldritch horror), yet are given enough spotlight to leave an impact on us, to have their presence felt, and to give us the impression that, despite their bad luck, if they only took certain decisions in certain key moments, maybe they would have survived and received a much better ending than the one they got.

Want more?

[vesperxtine]

The Truth.

So this post is in regards to Creeperchild / Freddy. I had spoken to him recently and he told me he wanted me to tell the truth so I can clear his name. So after taking time to talk to my therapist and a few other people, here is the truth. The truth is, I never once called him a pedophile; possibly other people have, but not me. Grooming does not equate to pedophilia. Grooming is an abuse tactic to "prepare" someone for something or a form of powerplay. And it's not just me who claims such. Multiple people have reached out to me on terms that Freddy had spoken to minors about kinks, shown kids NSFW, and exchanged very inappropriate conversations with people under 18 for over 4 years, it seems. I did not "Lie" about him being a groomer and my friends are not "spreading malicious rumors about you" they are all people who witnessed your behavior. Believe it or not, I didn't even mention grooming once after we had our falling out until my friends and strangers approached me with concerns for our relationship. Even during, we both were met with concerns. Even if Freddy did not intend to hurt these people, Intention does not erase impact, much like how I was not the best partner either and had consistently said or did things to hurt Freddy's feelings without the intention to hurt him, but I still hurt him. People on his side believe I orchestrated all these accounts and faked evidence and lied about him being a "pedophile" because I was "mad at him" when I literally do not even have access to the "Addressing-Creeperchild" account. I'm not smart enough nor do I have the mental energy to be some sort of mastermind. The reason I and many other people called Freddy out, was because this is behavior that was ongoing for years, but whenever he was met with constructive criticism on his behavior in DMs, he instead threw a fit and shifted blame onto other people and made it seem as if *HE* were the victim. Even if I did tell everyone that I "lied" like he wants me to, it won't do anything because MANY people witnessed this behavior. I, and many other people have tried time and time again to obtain an apology, but never once did we receive it. Even now after I did everything I could to level with him and have us BOTH take accountability for our actions. But alas, he only cares about his reputation. He wants me to "Tell the truth" the truth is, Freddy, You hurt people and never once shown remorse. I've shown remorse for him time and time again on behalf of what i've done wrong. I cannot take the full blame here and I wont. This mess was a more-than-two-person-effort. I'm sorry his 'life is ruined and he has no friends now' but hiding and deleting all of your socials instead of taking accountability or communicating with us in dms in the first place is what a guilty person does. I can not help you. You need to apologize to the people you've hurt. I've apologized to you, you need to give it back if you even want a chance of your name being cleared, because while I forgive you and have no issue with you, other people still do, so verbally abusing me through texts and calling me a "dirty liar" is not going to help. You are 27, I am 19. this is becoming an annoyingly emotionally immature situation and I highly doubt you want to remain in the same spot you are now when you're 30 or 40. I know I don't. which is why I'm no longer running in circles in hopes for answers or to fix something that I know will never be fixed as long as the other person won't put in the effort. All it takes is for you to come forward and acknowledge that you were inappropriate with both minors and adults and that you will try to do better. I fear that is a major stepping stone to clearing your name, but you won't do that. I love ya Freddy, I want you to have your life back, and maybe one day we can be friends again, but until then, I can't fight for you anymore. I'm sorry. v proof of my statements.

[acknowledge-reigns]

Baddie and The Beast | Jacob Fatu x Black!Fem OC | 18+!

Description: Jacob comes to his senses in regards to his feelings about Myra.

Chapter: 6/6

Face Claim: Flo Milli

Warnings: Primal play (including chase scene, all ssc), rough sex, honorifics, marking/biting, possessiveness, mild degradation, praise, p in v, honorifics, petnames, choking,

This is the Jacob x Myra sequel to Swipe Right, Rivals With Benefits and Kiss It Better. As always my stories are NOT about real people and does not reflect their character. This is very much an 18+ BDSM based romance with some comedy thrown in there. If kink content isn't for you, specifically Primal Kink (google if need be) for this one, please scroll. You have been warned.

Word count: 4,054

My masterlist can be found here

Epilogue featured at the end of this post!

Taglist: @lov3rla03 @adoreesun @Isabella-2025 @skyesthebomb @acute-crashout-jeyuso @raya-hunter01

Later that day, Jacob found himself sitting in a dimly lit bar with Roman, Jey, Zilla, and Jimmy. He was nursing a beer, his mind still reeling from the encounter with Myra earlier.

"Man, I fucked up," he muttered, taking a long swig of his drink.

Jimmy chuckled, shaking his head. "No shit"

Jey snorted, leaning back in his chair. "Uce, have some sympathy."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Not our fault you guys keep trying your best to fumble your women. The tribal chief knows how to keep his lady more than satisfied."

Jimmy smirked, taking a sip of his own drink. "To be fair, so do I. This a them problem." he clinks glasses with Roman.

Zilla chuckled, watching as Jacob slumped further into his seat. "You know what your problem is, man? You're too hard-headed. You're stubborn as hell and you refuse to listen to anyone else."

"Ah hell no, I know you ain't talking." Roman teased Zilla. "You almost lost Kiley because of a stupid text from your merch designer."

Zilla's smirk faded, and he shot Roman a glare "Shut up, Uce" he grumbled. "That was different. I learned from my mistake."

"You ended up firing her right?" Jacob asked.

"Yeah, Imani does my merch now." Zilla responds referring to Roman's eldest step-daughter.

Roman chuckled, shaking his head. "You're hopeless, both of you."

Jey snickered, taking a sip of his drink. "Maybe you guys should just stick to hookups and leave the relationships to us who can handle them."

"Didn't you and yo girl hate each other at first?" Jacob pointed out to Jey sharply.

"Shii, that ain't what she said last night, uce." Jey fired back.

"Yeet" Jimmy raises his glass.

Roman and Zilla both laughed at that, and Jacob rolled his eyes.

"Man, shut up. You guys are no better than us," he muttered, taking another swig of his beer.

Roman leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face. "I wasn't too scared to go after Iris. Jey wasn't too scared to go after Jax. Zilla in all his dumbass-ery wasn't too scared to go after LeLe. Jim and Naomi been locked in."

"You're just making excuses now, Uce," Jey teased. "You're scared to admit that you're in love with Myra."

"I'm not in love with her," he growled, glaring at Jey. "We were just... having fun."

Roman sighed, leaning forward and placing a hand on Jacob's shoulder.

"We get it. You're scared. But you can't keep running from your feelings forever. You gotta face them head-on."

Jey nodded in agreement. "You're not doing yourself any favors by denying it. You're only hurting yourself and Myra in the process."

Jimmy chimed in, his voice gentle but firm. "Look, we're not saying it's going to be easy. Relationships are messy, complicated, and sometimes downright painful. But if you really care about Myra, you owe it to her - and yourself - to try."

Zilla nodded, crossing his arms. "And don't try to convince yourself that it's just about the physical aspect. You wouldn't be this upset if it was just about that."

Roman smirked. "Face it, man. You're in love with Myra. And deep down, you know it."

"Maybe I am" Jacob sighed.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴

Myra found herself confiding in Lele about her feelings for Jacob. She poured her heart out, telling her friend about the primal Dom/sub dynamic and how it had made her feel drawn to him.

"I don't know what to do, Lele," Myra admitted, looking down at her hands. "I'm falling for him, but I don't think he feels the same way."

Lele listened attentively, a sympathetic look on her face.

"Have you tried talking to him about it?" she asked gently.

"He doesn't want a relationship, Le." She sighed.

Lele frowned, understanding the pain in Myra's voice.

"I'm sorry, bookie. That must be tough to hear."

She reached out and took Myra's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Myra nodded, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I thought I could keep it casual, you know? But every time I'm with him, I can't help but want more. I want the connection, the intimacy, the exclusivity. And I don't think he feels the same way. Or rather he's too scared to let himself feel the same way."

Lele pulled Myra into a hug, rubbing her back soothingly.

"It's okay to want those things, you know. It's normal to want to be with someone you care about. But you have to be honest with yourself and with Jacob. If you keep pushing your feelings down, they're just going to fester and cause more pain in the long run."

Myra pulled back, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

"I know you're right. But I'm scared, Lele. I'm scared of getting hurt again."

"Being honest didn't help anything. He rejected me." Myra says.

Lele's heart ached for her friend. She knew how hard it must be to open up to someone and be vulnerable, only to be rejected in return.

"I'm so sorry, bookie. That's not fair to you. You deserve to be loved and cherished, not pushed away."

Myra nodded, trying to hold back more tears. "I just... I thought he was different."

Lele reached out and took Myra's hand again, her grip firm and reassuring.

"Don't let him make you feel like you're not worth anything. You deserve someone who will treat you with respect and love."

Myra sniffled, taking a deep breath to compose herself.

"I just wish it was that easy," she said softly. "I wish I could just move on and forget about him, but it's not that simple. I still care about him, despite everything."

Lele nodded, understanding the conflict within her friend.

"It's normal to feel that way. It takes time to heal and move on. But you have to promise me something, okay?"

Lele looked Myra in the eye, her expression serious.

"Promise me that you won't let him hold you back. Promise me that you'll take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy, and if he's not going to make you happy, then you need to move on."

Myra nodded slowly, tears welling up in her eyes again.

"I promise," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Now, how about i pour us both some wine and you tell me more about this kink stuff?" LeLe said.

Myra chuckled, grateful for the distraction.

"Sure, that sounds good. But let me warn you, it's not for the faint of heart."

Lele smirked, pouring two glasses of wine and handing one to Myra.

"Oh, I can handle it. Zilla and I get into all kinds of kinky shit."

Myra's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I didn't know that. You and Zilla are kinky, huh?"

Lele laughed, taking a sip of her wine. "You have no idea, babes. We've tried just about everything under the sun."

Myra took a sip of her own wine, feeling slightly more relaxed now. "Damn, Lele. I thought you were the innocent friend."

Lele smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Innocent? Me? Never. I just know how to keep it under wraps."

There was a sudden knock on the door, interrupting their conversation.

Myra and Lele exchanged a glance, surprised by the interruption.

"I wasn't expecting anyone other than you." Myra stated, setting her glass down.

Lele shrugged, looking at the door.

"Maybe it's a package or something?"

Myra got up from the couch and walked over to the door, still feeling a bit wary. She peeked through the peephole, trying to see who was on the other side.

Myra gasped, taking a step back from the door.

"Oh my god, it's Jacob."

Jacob held up a single red rose, a hopeful expression on his face. He knew that showing up at Myra's door unannounced was a risky move, but he had to try and make things right.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door again, his heart racing with anticipation.

Myra slowly opened the door, her eyes widening as she saw the rose in Jacob's hand. She had been so hurt and angry earlier, but now she was feeling a mix of emotions that she couldn't quite place.

"Jacob..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Jacob looked at Myra, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

"Please, let me explain," he said, holding out the rose to her.

Myra hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Part of her wanted to slam the door in his face and tell him to leave, but another part of her was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

She took the rose from his hand, her fingers brushing against his.

Jacob took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I know I messed up," he said softly. "I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. But please, give me a chance to make things right."

Myra looked down at the rose in her hand, her emotions swirling within her. She knew that she should be angry, that she should tell him to go to hell.

But she also knew that she couldn't deny the fact that she still cared about him.

"Why should I give you a chance?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Jacob took another step closer, closing the gap between them.

"Because I love you," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I love you more than anything in this world, and I can't stand the thought of losing you. I'll do whatever it takes to prove it to you, to show you how much I care."

Myra's heart skipped a beat at his words. She had been so convinced that he didn't care about her, that she had been just a piece of ass to him, once again. But now, standing here in front of him, she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

She wanted to believe him, she wanted to give him another chance. But she was still scared, still hurt by what he had done.

Jacob reached out, gently cupping her cheek in his hand.

"Please, let me make it up to you," he whispered, his thumb gently tracing her skin. "Let me show you how much I've changed, how much I've grown. I'll do anything to prove that I'm worth another chance. I want you to be mine. The beauty to my beast."

Myra felt her resolve crumbling, her anger and hurt slowly giving way to a feeling of longing. She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as she took a deep breath.

"You really mean that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jacob nodded, his eyes locked onto hers.

"With all my heart," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "I've never been more serious about anything in my life. You're everything to me, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure I never lose you again."

Myra felt a tear slip down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away.

She took a step closer, closing the remaining distance between them.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I'll give you another chance."

Jacob's face lit up with relief and happiness. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Thank you," he whispered, burying his face in her hair. "I promise I won't let you down again. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Lele, who had been watching the whole scene from the couch, took the hint and stood up.

"I'll give you guys some space," she said with a knowing smile. "I'll catch up with you later, Myra."

She gave Myra a quick hug before grabbing her things and heading out the door.

Once Lele was gone, Jacob turned his attention back to Myra. He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist.

Myra looked up at him, her heart racing as she felt the warmth of his body against hers. She still wasn't sure if she was making the right decision, but at this moment, she didn't care.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

Jacob deepened the kiss, his hands roaming over her body as he held her close. He had missed her so much, and now that she was in his arms again, he didn't want to let her go.

Myra melted into the kiss, her body arching against his as she let out a soft moan. She had missed him too, and the feeling of his hands on her skin was intoxicating.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at her.

"Run" He growled seductively.

Myra shivered at the sound of his voice, her heart racing with excitement. She didn't hesitate, immediately turning and darting away from him through the apartment.

Jacob watched her go with a primal gleam in his eyes. He loved the chase, the thrill of the hunt. And he knew that she loved it too.

He waited a few seconds before taking off after her, his long strides quickly closing the distance between them.

Myra darted through the rooms, her heart pounding in her chest as she heard his footsteps close behind her. She knew that he was gaining on her, and the thought only made her more excited.

She dodged around furniture, trying to make it more difficult for him to catch her. But she knew it was a futile effort - he was bigger and stronger than her. Faster too somehow.

Jacob was right behind her now, his hand just inches from grabbing her arm. She could feel his breath on her neck as he gazed at her like a predator stalking it's prey.

She let out a squeal of mock surprise as he finally caught her, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her back against his chest.

He held her tightly, his body pressed against hers as he nuzzled into her neck. She could feel his heart beating rapidly, matching the rhythm of her own.

"Got you" He growled into her ear, his voice low and possessive. "You're mine now."

Myra shivered at his words, her body responding to the primal tone in his voice. She knew that he was going to claim her, and the thought sent a thrill through her veins.

He spun her around to face him, pinning her against the wall with his body. His eyes were dark with desire as he looked down at her, his hands gripping her wrists and holding them above her head.

"You're not going anywhere" He growled, his body pressing her further into the wall. "You're mine to do with as I please."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "And I plan on claiming you over and over again tonight."

Myra moaned at his words as she felt a familiar heat pooling between her legs. She loved it when he got like this, It drove her wild.

He nipped at her earlobe, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear before he began to trail kisses down her neck.

He moved his mouth lower, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of red marks down her neck and onto her collarbone. He loved marking her, claiming her as his.

He released her wrists, letting his hands roam over her body as he continued to kiss and bite her skin. He wanted to touch every inch of her, to reacquaint himself with every curve and dip of her body.

Jacob smirked as he spun her around, pushing her against the wall again. This time, her back was to him.

He ran his hands over her hips and up her sides, his touch both gentle and possessive. He loved the way her body fit against his, the way she molded perfectly to his frame.

He pressed his body against hers, his chest against her back as he began to grind his hips against her ass. She could feel the hardness of his arousal through his clothes, and it made her desire even stronger.

He reached around her, hiking her dress up above her hips.

He slid a hand between her legs, his fingers tracing the outline of her soaked panties.

"You're already so wet for me" He whispered in her ear, his voice dripping with lust. "So eager to be caught and used."

She gasped as he tore her panties off, the sound of the fabric ripping sending a shiver down her spine. She was completely exposed now, her body pressed against the wall and at his mercy.

He reached down, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. He freed himself from the confines of his clothing, the sound of his zipper being undone making her heart race.

He gripped her hips, positioning himself at her entrance. She could feel the heat of his skin against hers, the head of his cock teasing her wetness.

"Are you ready for me, my little beauty?" He growled, his voice low and commanding.

"Yes...please..." Myra whimpered, her body trembling with anticipation. She was desperate for him, craving the feeling of him inside her.

With a low growl, he pushed forward, burying himself inside her in one swift thrust. She cried out as he filled her, her walls stretching to accommodate his size.

He didn't give her any time to adjust, immediately starting a brutal pace. He slammed into her over and over again, his hips slapping against her ass with each thrust.

He was rough and dominant, claiming her with every movement of his body.

She braced herself against the wall, her hands gripping the smooth surface as he pounded into her from behind. She could feel his fingers digging into her hips, leaving marks that would surely be bruises in the morning.

"You're mine, my little prey" He growled, his voice strained with pleasure. "You belong to me, and I'm going to mark you up so everyone knows it."

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back as he continued to thrust into her. He nipped and sucked at her neck, leaving more marks on her skin.

He reached up, wrapping his hand around her throat and tilting her head back.

He held her head back, exposing her neck to him as he continued to mark her. His lips and teeth moved over her skin, leaving a trail of red and purple marks in their wake.

He kept his grip on her throat tight, but not tight enough to cut off her air. It was a reminder of who was in control, who owned her body and soul.

His other hand slid around her waist, his fingers finding her clit. He began to rub circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves, driving her pleasure higher and higher.

She moaned loudly, her body arching against his as he continued to thrust into her and tease her clit. The sensations were overwhelming, and she felt like she was on the edge of losing control.

"Come for me, baby. Come for Alpha." He whispered in her ear, his voice rough with desire. "Let go and let me feel you clench around me."

She was helpless to resist his command, her body already teetering on the edge of release. His words sent her over the edge, and she came with a cry, her walls fluttering around his cock.

He groaned as he felt her clench around him, the sensation pushing him closer to his own release. He kept thrusting into her, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own pleasure.

He buried his face in her neck, his teeth sinking into her skin as he reached his own peak. He let out a guttural moan as he came, his hips stuttering against hers as he emptied himself inside her.

He held her close, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He remained inside her for a few moments, relishing the feeling of being connected to her.

He finally pulled out of her, his hands still holding her close as he turned her around to face him. He looked at her with a possessive gaze, his eyes roaming over her body and taking in the marks he had left on her skin.

"You look beautiful like this, marked up and claimed by me." He said, his voice still rough with arousal. He ran his fingers over the bruises and bite marks on her skin, a satisfied smirk on his face.

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her in a possessive embrace. He loved her. Truly loved her, more than he'd ever loved anyone or anything.

"Remember when you asked who would tame who, baby?" Jacob asked, "You did it. You changed me."

"Tale As Old As Time" Myra giggled.

Previous Chapter

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮

Epilogue!

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

Roman and Iris' lives had been a whirlwind of changes in the past few years. Between having twins, dealing with their other children, and trying to adjust as Imani left for college, they were exhausted but happy.

But despite the challenges, they made it work. They supported each other through it all, finding joy in every moment with their family. In total? They have nine children. Roman's four boys who live primarily with their mother, his daughter who is the same age as Iris' daughter Imani who also just went off to college, Iris' 12 year old daughter Amira and their 8 month old twins Marina and Cove.

Iris' daughter Amira was going through a rebellious phase, constantly testing her parents' patience. But Roman and Iris were patient with her, knowing that it was just a phase. They were grateful for the bond they had with their children, no matter how difficult things got.

And their 6-month-old twins, Marina and Cove, were the light of their lives. They were both healthy and happy, always smiling, cooing and babbling whenever they saw their parents.

Roman and Iris knew that they needed help with the twins, especially since they had to manage their other children as well plus juggle their careers. They were fortunate to find a nanny with good references and whatnot.

"Amanda, welcome." Iris greets her at the door on her first day.

Amanda smiles warmly, taking in the chaotic but loving atmosphere of the house.

"Thank you for having me," she says, shaking Iris' hand. "I'm looking forward to helping out with the twins."

Iris leads Amanda into the living room, where Roman is sitting on the couch with the twins. They're babbling and cooing, and he's playing with them, making faces and silly noises to keep them entertained.

Amanda watches as Roman plays with the twins, a smile on her face. She can tell that he's a loving father, and that he's dedicated to making sure his children are happy and well taken care of. It was refreshing to see.

Roman looks up and sees Amanda standing there, "Hey," he says, standing up with the twins, one in each arm. "You must be Amanda."

Amanda nods, returning his smile.

"Yes, that's me," she says, walking over to them. "It's nice to meet you. I'm a big fan."

Roman chuckles, slightly taken aback by her enthusiasm.

"You're a fan, huh?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I'm flattered. But let's keep the professional relationship intact, okay?"

Amanda laughs and nods, realizing that she may have come on a bit too strong.

"Of course, of course," she says, holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm just excited to be working with you and your family. I promise I'll keep it professional.. As long as I get an autograph." She says adding the last part to lighten the mood and make Roman and Iris chuckle.

She couldn't mess this up. If they get suspicious and dig into her job history or credentials too deeply? They'll see that it's all fake. She had to stretch the truth. Would they have really hired her with 'Former Graphic designer/merch girl fired for flirting with my boss' on her resume?

Amanda was trying to keep her cool, but inside, she was sweating bullets. Truth be told, she doesn't even know how to hold a baby. Can't be that hard, right?

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Coming Soon!

[voxofthevoid]

you're well known to be a fantastic goyuu author. do you think you will ever write for other pairings in the jjk fandom, perhaps for itafushi?

Wait, hold up—

you're well known to be a fantastic goyuu author

I'M WHAT???

I'm...gonna be so normal about that. Yeah. Okay.

(I'm melting actually. Vox.exe has crashed.)

Re your question: My ao3 doesn't have any non-goyuu JJK fics for now, but I've written a few of them. All of them also have goyuu, so it's poly, typically V-types (e.g., goyuu and nanaita, but not nanago). You can find them here: chosoita+goyuu, nanaita+goyuu, sukuita+goyuu. Those links may not work on the mobile app though; you'd need to use a browser.

Re itafushi, I now have two ideas (more than the one it was when @thisdepravedsoul asked this question last month):

You know that new official art of Megumi? The magazine cover?

That did things to me, so I outlined a fic where Yuuji sees Megumi like that post-mission, gets a little gropey, and they fuck in a haunted school or something, followed by goyuu where Gojou sees what was done to Megumi and comes to sample the goods (Yuuji). The other one involves Gojou dubconning Megumi until Yuuji finds them accidentally and then offering him to Yuuji (who's oblivious to the dubcon aspects).

I do have several more fics with non-goyuu ships planned/outlined. They all also have goyuu because that's my center of interest in JJK, and it's pretty rare for me to write more than one ship at all. Yuuji has so many interesting relationships that I can't help it. Here's the current list, sorted by ship:

On top of the usual goyuu warnings, CWs include incest, dubcon/noncon, and implied MCD. The ships discussed are nanaita and sukuita, but Choso/Yuuji, Kenjaku/Yuuji, and Higuruma/Yuuji are mentioned.

Nanaita (plus goyuu):

oldest story ever told (hold me till we both go cold): Yuuji has complicated sexual relationships with Nanami and Gojou that are on the verge of either imploding or becoming more when Shibuya happens.

and every step forward put a little more sword in your heart: No-Shibuya post-canon AU where Yuuji's been pining after Gojou for years, he and Nanami have drunken sex, and it escalates from there on all fronts.

out of my head, into the nature: Vampire AU where Yuuji resurrects after the detention center with vampiric features; Gojou's only too happy to lend a vein, and Nanami gets roped into it despite his better judgement.

blood, lust, and a holy war: Gojou's the devil and Nanami's the angel on Yuuji's shoulder, and he fucks them both. The size is a bit of an issue at first, but they make do.

saints just swimming in our sins again: Established goyuu and nanaita where Nanami gets deaged, Yuuji tries to keep his hands to himself, and Gojou works very hard to make sure teen!Nanami gets some TLC.

Sukuita (plus goyuu):

of all the deadly sins, he's lucky seven: Omegaverse with omega!Sukuna/alpha!Yuuji and alpha!Gojou/alpha!Yuuji where Sukuna yanks Yuuji into his inndate domain to ride out his heat, and Yuuji's body autopilots its way into Gojou's asshole.

what does the poem of a killer say when it's written in the blood of the prey: Gojou and Sukuna are both gods and Yuuji’s a dragon-human hybrid who semi-accidentally tumbles into both their beds, separately. Fifty shades of monsterfucking.

no psychotherapy will ever relieve the hunted needing: Modern reincarnation AU where Sukuna’s reborn as Yuuji’s younger brother, and it takes everything Yuuji has not to smother him in his bed; it escalates into something very different. Then Gojou’s thrown into the mix as Yuuji’s high school upperclassman.

one day, the only butterflies left will be in your chest (as you march towards your death, breathing your last breath): Apocalyptic post-canon AU where Gojou doesn't get unsealed, Sukuna plays cat and mouse with everyone until only Yuuji's left, and they hate-fuck while Yuuji guards a weakening Prison Realm.

There are also a few others featuring Choso/Yuuji, Kenjaku/Yuuji, and Higuruma/Yuuji, one each for all three ships, but the bulk of my goyuu-plus ideas are nanaita and sukuita.

[oht8]

Oops, Chapter 3 |18+|

Yunho/Ateez X Reader fic

You’re working, covering an event for someone else, last minute, and in a rush- you quite literally crash into Yunho.. Oops. What comes to follow changes everything you thought you knew about love and lust.

Pairings: Yunho/various Ateez members X reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, Multi-chapter fic, unfinished, casual encounters, polyamory

Warnings:*MDNI*(Minors DO NOT Interact), light smut/flirting, coarse language. Let me know if I missed any.

Word Count: 608

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

Author’s notes:

This is my first fic, first post on here. I’m still trying to figure everything out/how to best use Tumblr for this. This story is a WIP/unfinished, and a multi-chapter fic. Please be kind in comments, I welcome suggestions on how to best use this platform/share my fics. I will do my best to edit tags/summaries, warnings, etc, as the story evolves

His skin is so beautiful peeking out that V at the top of his button suit jacket. It’s obvious, just from the little skin you can see showing, that he has a deliciously sculpted chest.. your core starts to heat and your cheeks flush.. he chuckles lowly at you and says your name again.. “Y/N?” you look at him and god, how can this man in front of you be so charming, perfect, and so damn sexy as the same time?

That’s when you remember you’re supposed be to be working and you clear your throat and say, “right. Um. Can I give you my card and you get in touch with me about what you need from me? I really need to get down to the event as, clearly,“ you look up at him for emphasis, “guests are arriving and technically, I’m here working..” and you go start to dig your camera out of your bag..

“Ahh.. about that? How about I help you out and we.. change our location? I’m surprised there aren’t more people up here, but the guests tonight are bound to need the facilities soon..”

You stare at him.. “w-what? Help me out?! What do you mean?”

“Well.. you’re here to take pictures of people like me, right?” You blush again “Yes… of the event, though..” you say.

“Well then, I’ll help you out by giving you some great shots of myself no one else will have..” he says as he’s looking you with amusement in his eyes. You’re not sure how much more of his gaze you can take as he continues, “Follow me..” as his gaze then moves to your lips for a few seconds and then he starts heading towards the elevators. Holy hell.

You start to object by saying, even while he’s pulling you along, “surely your absence will be noticed by now downstairs? And what if someone sees us.. wherever you’re taking me?” He grins wide at you this time as he grabs your hand, continuing to lead you toward the elevators and says, “luckily, I know this building pretty well.. and I’ve ah, already told my manager I would be delayed by a slight wardrobe malfunction I’m able to handle myself.. and, you’ve got your badge on. Clearly we’re both here.. working.” He lets go of your hand as you reach the elevator doors and he hits the call button for the upper levels.

You hear a familiar, pleasant “ding” almost immediately as the up arrow above one set of elevator doors lights up, and the doors open, revealing, either luckily or unluckily, an empty elevator. Yunho gestures you forward. “After you, Y/N..” You step into the elevator, and Yunho follows after you and the elevator doors close. That delicious cedar scent is almost too overwhelming in the closed elevator car as you stand next to Yunho as he punches a floor number in..higher than you expected. You look at Yunho, a question in your eyes. He smirks when he looks back at you and says, “one of the private floors.. for people like myself..” You take in a sharp breath.

You quickly approach the floor Yunho called for, somehow not having to stop at any other floors on the way up. You hear the chiming again, and the elevators doors open.. Yunho steps out, and holds his hand out towards you once more, this time, with heat blazing in his eyes as he says, “Come on, let’s go get some photos that helps keep your job..” warmth starts to spread to your core as you now helplessly let him start to guide you down the hall.

[mytwistednightmar3]

Note; This is the last chapter until the Orange Side reveal in cannon.

FANTASY SIDES

CHAPTER 5: LIAR LIAR

The bandits decided to wait til nightfall to continue their plan. In the meantime, they had tied up both Roman and Virgil back to back, making sure they wouldn't be able to escape.

They were both sitting under a tree. The bandits were distracted by the campfire they made.

Roman had realized that Virgil had a map to where the staff was.

This raised Roman's suspicions about Virgil, "How exactly do you have a map to where the staff is? How do you even know about the staff?"

Virgil took a second to think of something, "Thomas told me."

Before Roman could reply, a voice was heard in the tree above them, "Ooo, liar liar. Janus would be proud."

Virgil recognized this voice, but he noticed that he wasn't the only one. Roman also knew this voice. They both looked up in the tree.

Hanging upside down on a branch was Remus, Thomas's intrusive thoughts, with a cheshire cat-like grin on his face.

Roman let out a scream.

Virgil rolled his eyes at him, "Would you stop that?" He looked back up at Remus, "Are you crazy?"

Remus chuckled a bit, "Obviously!"

Roman looked at Virgil then back at Remus, "How do you know each other?!"

Virgil looked at Roman and mumbled, "How do you know him?"

Remus laughed a bit, "Oh, this is interesting. Like that one time I watched a snake eat its own tail!"

Roman began, "Remus is my-"

Remus cut him off, "Evil" twin brother!"

Virgil looked between the two, noticing their resemblance.

Roman repeated, "So how do you know each other?!"

Virgil shook his head at Remus, warning him not to tell Roman.

Remus didn't acknowledge Virgil's warning, "Virgil is one of us!"

Virgil looked at the ground.

Roman looked at Virgil, "You're one of them?! They're trying to steal the staff, is that why you had the map?!"

Virgil looked at Remus, "You told him the plan?!"

Remus never wiped his smile off his face, "Whoopsy! Guess the heart's out of the body!"

Virgil mumbled slightly disgusted by his statement, "It's "the cat's out of the bag."

Remus chuckled, "Tomayto, tomahto!"

Virgil dismissed Remus's comment and looked back at Roman, "Listen, it's not like I want to do it anymore. I don't."

Remus dropped down from the tree, falling head first onto the ground. He put his thumb up, "I'm okay!" Remus stood up, "Wait til Janus finds out you're betraying him! This is juicy!"

Virgil noticed something. The bandits seemed unphased by Remus's presence.

Roman shook his head, "l just started to trust you, Virgil!"

Virgil didn't respond to this. He looked at Remus, "You know these bandits."

Remus smirked, "Interesting accusation. That's right! I do! I bribed them to kidnap you both! They're our key to the staff, Virgil! You can't betray us if we force you to do it!"

Remus clapped with excitement, "Have fun being tied up!" He ran off into the forest.

Roman snapped at Virgil once Remus was gone, "I can't believe you! You tried to gain my trust to get the staff!"

Virgil mumbled, "I did what had to do."

It was now dark enough. The bandits walked over to Virgil and Roman.

One stated, "It's time to get that staff and you're both coming with us."

The others began to untie the rope that was around them both. Though, their wrists were tied behind their backs so they wouldn't be able to fight back. They pulled Roman and Virgil to their feet.

Before taking any steps, one of the bandits pinned Virgil to a tree and held a knife against his throat, "And if either of you try anything, you're both dead."

The other bandits held onto Roman, so he couldn't try anything. The bandit let go of Virgil. The other bandits pushed Roman forward next to Virgil. They all had their weapons drawn behind the two.

They followed the map into the castle, the main bandit ordering Roman and Virgil where to go.

Virgil looked at Roman as if asking where Patton and Logan were. Roman looked just as oblivious as Virgil about this. They got to the throne room.

The main bandit spoke, "It shows there's a room behind the throne. There must be a secret door. Look for a way to open it!" They ordered Roman and Virgil.

Virgil spoke, "How will we open it if we're tied up?"

The bandit came over and untied both Roman and Virgil, "You two try anything, remember, there's more of us than you."

Roman knew where the button was, he looked at Virgil and pointed to it. The button was on the side of the throne. Virgil walked over to it and pressed it.

The wall opened up behind the throne, revealing the staff on a pedestal.

Virgil went over to the staff and reached for it, but before he could grab it, Roman grasped the staff and took it off the pedestal.

Virgil looked at Roman, puzzled, "What are you doing?"

Roman answered, "Doing what you couldn't do." Roman waved the staff in the air, releasing a bright orange cloud.

Previous;

[she-karev]

Birth (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister Labor Imagine)

Previous Part Here

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

AN: Hey guys here’s the next story I hope you like it and I’ll post the next one in the morning.

Summary: Amber is in a delivery room in labor with Andrew DeLuca by her side and Addison Montgomery as her doctor.

Words: 1930

October 20th, 2022

I groan out in pain lying in my birthing bed wearing a hospital gown so I can finally give birth. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of pain before that happens based on how I’m leaning forward while my uterus tightens up. All I can do is hold Andrew’s hand as the next contraction comes and hits me like a truck. Dr. Addison Montgomery is also in the room feeling around my stomach as I collapse on the bed once the contraction ends. I let go of Andrew’s hand and he rubs it clearly hurting after my vice grip.

Addison moves back and checks the monitor for my vitals, “Okay Dr. DeLuca your contractions are 10 minutes apart and you’re progressing very nicely.”

Her diagnosis is pissing me off, “Oh god that’s what you call progressing nicely you rotten old bat. Ugh! I call it a bumpy road trip down to hell.”

Andrew steps in to humanize me as he curls his fist to make sure I didn’t break any bones, “She didn’t mean that, the ‘rotten old bat’ part.”

“I think I did.”

Andrew chuckles nervously and tries again, “We both appreciate you taking the time to deliver our baby. I’m sure your schedule is packed.”

Addison isn’t mad though she just grins, “Oh no please ever since Roe V Wade was overturned, I’m in the front row of the fallout. A birth is something I needed to bring some joy into my life and remind me why I first got into OB so thank you.”

I sigh at that, “Any chance you can thank me by taking over?”

Addison chuckles, “It’s okay everybody reacts to giving birth differently. I’ve been in this specialty for almost 30 years believe me I have seen it all.”

I exhale as Andrew chuckles and explains, “I wouldn’t bet on it Dr. Montgomery, Amber is a very unique individual.”

I glare at him, “Shut up Andrew nobody is asking for your opinion.” He simply nods knowing better than to challenge me in the state I’m in.

“I’m sure you both know this but the next step is to wait for the contractions to get a little closer together before asking you to push.”

“Oh god they get closer together?” I ask terrified then remember I have an MD, “Wait a minute I knew that. Of course, I knew that I’m a doctor I would have to know that.” I sigh and remorse comes to me as I face Addison, “I’m sorry I called you a rotten old bat. You actually look very good for your age.”

She chuckles at that, “It’s okay and yes you did know that. If you didn’t, I would be dealing with your brother intern year again.” I chuckle lightly at that, “Don’t worry Amber you know everything you need to know about giving birth and whatever you forget your husband will be there to remind you. Your next contraction is in ten minutes I have a consult to get to but I will be right back.” Dr. Montgomery begins to walk out the door with Andrew looking worried about being left alone with me but he stands by my side and holds my hand again.

“Okay so breathe through your nose.”

“Do not tell me what to do.” My hormones and contractions are making me extra cranky, “Ugh I need to walk around get me off this bed.”

“Are you sure?” Andrew asks causing me to glare at him which scares him so much he complies, “Okay then let’s walk around the room for a bit here we go.” He helps me off the bed and I make it to five feet before I lean my elbows against the table breathing in and out with Andrew rubbing my back to comfort me, “So I’m gonna risk poking the bear and ask have you thought of a name for the child to be?”

I look behind to narrow my eyes at him, “Really? Now? You pick now to ask that? I am about to push a melon through a keyhole and you choose to bring up how we’re lagging in the name department?”

He rubs my back and continues, “I think now is the right time, I know we said TBD but we should probably D it before we have a chubby faced baby and a blank line on the birth certificate. We ruled out your mom for obvious reasons, what about grandma’s? I’ve got Aria, and Adelina, you?”

I inhale deeply and exhale before responding, “You mean Miriam and Ruth who rejected me and left me and my brothers to fend for ourselves in foster care when their son and daughter couldn’t take care of us? You want to name our loved daughter after those negligent bitches?”

He winces at that harsh reminder, “You know what let’s forget grandparents how about we meet her first and it’ll come to us.”

I groan at my discomfort again, “Whatever gets you to shut up I will take it. God why did I talk myself into this? Why didn’t I wait until electric wombs were invented or cloning was in human trials? I could’ve saved myself so much misery.”

He runs his hands through my hair, “You’re doing great just breathe through the pain.”

I breathe like he suggests, “Shut up about my pain, you don’t know what is going on inside my body right now.”

“I don’t know I was beaten and stabbed I’m sure I can relate on some level.”

I grip the ends of the table as sweat drips from my forehead, “I was beaten too and this right here this is like getting stabbed a hundred times in your pelvis and you’re pooping out your insides.”

His eyes widen at that image, “That does sound painful.” Suddenly my emotions get the better of me and I go from angry to sad because I start to cry and then sob like a lunatic. I can tell Andrew is surprised but he stays and rubs my shoulders, “Oh no, hey it’s okay the pain is all a natural part of labor I don’t know it personally but the one upside to riding this out is having a baby in the end to make it all worth it. I mean that’s something isn’t it?” I still sob though and I can tell Andrew is stumped but trying to mend me as he affectionately rubs my back, “Come on I’m sorry I would make it so this process has no pain at all. I would make it to where you push and then pop we have a baby trust me.”

I sniffle and stop sobbing but I still have tears in my eyes, “It’s not the pain, I grew up in a hell house, my foster parents were crap, my brother beat me to near death and I worked in a hospital during covid I can handle the pain.” I tear up and my voice hitches, “I’m sad because I’m afraid of continuing the cycle.”

“What? What do you mean?”

I sniffle as I walk back to the bed with Andrew helping me up, “I mean what person thought ‘oh look here’s a baby now I have something to hit’ maybe my dad didn’t same for my mom but look at what they did in their trial as parents. I already look like my mom what if I do to our kids what she did to hers?”

He looks at me in sympathy as he helps me lie down in bed and covers me with a blanket, “Amber-”

I hold my hand up to silence him, “No I know what this is, I know it’s the hormones causing all this crazy thinking and I should ignore it but I can’t because there’s no off switch and it’s not like some creep in a bus you just avoid eye contact with. All of this uncertainty brings me back to my childhood when I would watch my mom get dragged away by orderlies screaming nonsense about the government watching us through the smoke alarms which I genuinely believed until that day. And now I’m about to become a mother and suddenly I think ‘what if I’m like her?’” I tear up again, “And she was the worst mother in the world. What if I’m just the latest in my family’s long line of horrible mothers?” I sob again, putting my hand over my eyes so I don’t see the look on Andrew’s face as I break down in the worst time possible.

“Shh it’s okay it’s gonna be okay.” I still sob as he tries to soothe me, “Look I thought the same thing when I started getting manic okay? Remember when I was at my worst and I took it out on everyone and you especially?” I sob harder at that memory, “Sorry I have a point here I promise. I thought the diagnosis was the end and I was just like my manic and reckless father who refuses to talk to me. I pushed you away, I quit my job and I let myself get in the deep end. I thought I was doomed but I wasn’t, Carina, Webber and Bailey they all showed me that and I decided to prove myself wrong and I did. And now I’m good not cured but good and despite everything I did I earned your trust back. I did that and I am so glad I did because it brought me to this moment with you.” I calm down a bit remembering that as awful as that period of our lives was it brought us closer together and made us stronger as a couple.

“Look I’m not saying I’m not scared too I get terrified thinking I’m gonna screw up this kid like my dad screwed me up but I know that I’m not and I know that you’re not gonna repeat your mom’s mistakes either.” I wipe a tear away as my sobs lessen, “I know you had a crappy mom but at the very least you know what not to do. You’re the strongest, most caring, and compassionate person I know and this kid could do a lot worse for a mom. Amber we’re not our parent’s, we’re us and I don’t think I know we’re gonna end our family pattern. It stops here with me and you. It ends with us.”

My sobs stop completely as I let his speech sink in and I become less afraid. It’s the hormones but it’s also my fear of ending up like my mother that has been in my mind for years. I don’t know how this is gonna go but I know how it’s not and I’ll be damned if it does. His last words hit me and I raise an eyebrow at him recognizing it, “You read that Colleen Hoover book I got for me didn’t you?”

His eyes widen at that, “Well…I…” He sighs as he confesses, “It was on your nightstand I decided to read a chapter…I ended up reading the whole thing while you were asleep.” I laugh at that imagining him reading a recently popular romance drama that even got me stirred up in emotions, “It was pretty good.”

I nod in agreement, “It was. Thanks for making me laugh.”

“Thank Colleen.” I chuckle, “The next contraction is in 30 seconds do you want to hold my hand?”

“Don’t hate me if I break it.” I grab his hand and grip it as the next fireball of pain takes me causing me to scream.

Next Part Here

[theentropiceye]

Prologue 2 - The Restless Village

Arthur steps out from the dimly lit tunnel that connects the coastline to the hidden heart of the island. The village is nestled in a vast slope, and its boundaries defined by high cliffs and towering stone columns. Glowstone posts are scattered along the gravel paths, illuminating the otherwise shadowed expanse. 

The homes are modest, constructed of dark oak wood and stone. Their steep, crimson roofs stand out against the surrounding greenery. At the center of the village is a stone fountaine, where a few villagers, barely awake, have gathered. Nearby, fields of wheat are bordered by wooden fences, and the faint trickle of a waterfall echoes in the distance. The air carries a blend of earth, saltwater, and smoke. 

Arthur’s footsteps echo lightly on the cobblestones as he approaches. A villager, more accurately, a farmer in his late thirties, with an iron hoe slung over his shoulder, notices him first. 

VILLAGER FARMER: “O-oh! Well met, Commander! What brings you out this early? Trouble?” 

Arthur stops in front of the villager, with his golden mace glowing non-stop. He surveys the small crowd forming, his expression calm but stern. 

ARTHUR: “Gather everyone.” 

VILLAGER FARMER (Frowning.): “What’s going on? Is it… the Illagers?” 

ARTHUR (Shaking his head.): “No, a ship. A big one. It'’s anchored off the coast.”  

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. More villagers emerge from their homes, drawn by the rising tension in Arthur’s voice. A fisherwoman woman, carrying a bucket of water, steps forward, her brow furrowed. 

VILLAGER FISHERWORMAN: “A ship? Pirates, then?” 

ARTHUR (Firmly.): “I don’t know. But we need to be ready. Wake the blacksmith. Prepare the golems. Arm yourselves with whatever you can.” 

A younger man, barely past his teens, pushes his way to the front, clutching an enchanted iron axe taken from a vindicator, and wearing a characteristic vindicator jacket, taken as well. 

VILLAGER VINDICATOR (Eagerly.): “Are we fighting, Arthur? Just say the word.” 

ARTHUR (Holding up a hand.): “No, not yet. We're not going to act unless we have to. Besides, Gwen is watching the ship. For now, we prepare.” 

The crowd disperses, the villagers hurrying to their tasks. Some rush to the small armory near the well, some others head to the fields to secure their livestock, and some other remain with Arthur by the village's fountain, his gaze fixed on the path leading back to the shore. 

A weaponsmith with an eyepatch and a heavy apron approaches next. He carries a hammer in one hand and a bundle of iron-tipped arrows in the other. 

VILLAGER WEAPONSMITH: “Ayo, Comm. What 'bout tah shep?” 

ARTHUR (Turning to him.): “There's a ship off the coast. It's... really big. I have my suspicions about it.” 

VILLAGER WEAPONSMITH (Grimly.): “Well I'd be damned. Better not be pirets.” 

ARTHUR: “That’s why I’m asking you to prepare the golems. We may need them before the day’s end.” 

Arthur places a hand on the blacksmith’s shoulder briefly before turning back to a crowd forming on the fountain. The village has become active now, and the tension is palpable in the air. More villagers come in gradually, even an already built golem takes notice of the scene. Some of them have outfits from Illagers, while others do not.  

ARTHUR: “All of you, listen up!” 

The crowd quiets, gathering closer to hear. 

ARTHUR: “I won’t lie — there’s a chance this ship could mean trouble, but this is our home! We've already defended it from the monsters of the night, and you already have some experience with the Illagers from long ago. This is no different! I don’t know their intentions, but I do know this: we stand together, and we’re stronger for it.  Whatever comes from that ship —if it comes— we’ll face it as one!” 

Some of the villagers, initially restless, begin to calm cown. Murmurs of agreement echo through the crowd. Arthur scans their faces, nodding to those who meet his gaze. One of them speak first. He wears a robe from an evoker. 

VILLAGER EVOKER: “But Commander... what if it’s just... travelers?” 

ARTHUR (Meeting the villager’s eyes.): “Then we’ll welcome them, and I hope that's the case. But until we know for certain, we prepare as if it'’s the worst. This village isn't really big, and the same goes for our army. We can’t allow ourselves to be caught off guard.” 

Another villager speaks up after him. A villager whose attire hints his provenance from a savannah. 

SAVANNAH VILLAGER (Muttering.): “I’ve... I’ve never fought anything more dangerous than a skeleton... or an Illager, for that matter. I'’m no soldier.” 

ARTHUR (Stepping toward the speaker.): “I know. None of us really are. I myself was once like you, until I finally had the means and experience to defend myself and others.” 

The villagers listen closely to Arthur's display of humility. 

ARTHUR: “But that's the past. We need to focus on the here and now. And now you have the chance to prove yourselves here, in this village of yours. If you do, you'll become its heroes, just as I am now. But remember, you don't have to overengage. We have iron golems at our disposal if things get out of hand.” 

VILLAGER NITWIT (Clutching a pitchfork.): “What if the golems aren'’t enough?” 

ARTHUR (Glancing at the blacksmith in the distance.): “Out of the question. The golems are our best asset.” 

The iron golem standing next to the fountain nods. The murmurs die down, replaced by a steady resolve. The villagers nod to each other, exchanging reassured glances. 

VILLAGER PILLAGER (Grinning.): “Exactly! I bet those pesky Illager pirates wouldn'’t stand a chance against us anyway! Let alone the golems or the Commanders!” 

VILLAGER VINDICATOR: “Oh, you bet they don't! Heck, I've been itching to kick some ass! It's been sooooo long since anyone has come here asking for it!” 

A ripple of faint laughter follows, easing some of the tension. Arthur allows the moment to linger before addressing them again. 

ARTHUR: “Good to know there's some morale on you. Now, back to your tasks! Watch the cliffs, secure the village, and prepare the golems! When the time comes, if at all... then we'll use the horn.” 

The villagers agree to Arthur's orders and promptly disperse, with their movements more confident than before. Arthur watches them for a moment and he departs the village's plaza. 

[abbsabroad]

week two in germany!

two weeks down, eight more to go! my time here in freiburg is flying by. i can’t believe i only have three more days of class left before easter break and our excursion week. this past week felt like i finally settled into being here. once again, i spent most of my time outside. i’ve been so lucky with the weather. its been sunny and warm almost every day. i'm starting to see why freiburg is called the sunniest place in germany!

this week included lots of food outings, a bunch of good wanders and runs, celebrating tessa’s 21st birthday, and of course… seeing the minecraft movie! duh!! i've also spent a lot of nights out with friends, hopping around cafes and bars, and getting close with people i probably never would’ve interacted with back at school.

compared to the first week, this one felt less overwhelming. i’ve figured out a rhythm and let myself slow down a bit. instead of trying to do and see everything, i’ve made more space to just be (which is incredibly hard for me). I know the importance of resting, relaxing, and recovering when i need to. i noticed i’ve stepped back a bit from posting every day like i originally planned. it felt easy when everything was new and different, but now that i’ve settled in, there’s less urgency to document every detail. still, i hope to keep up with it more because it helps me reflect and stay present.

i really do love it here in freiburg, but i’m also starting to get excited to see more of the country. i haven’t said much about the class i’m taking. every day from 8:30am to 1pm i’m in an intensive german language course. and yeah, “intensive” is DEFINITELY the right word. it’s only a three-week class, and as i head into the final week, all i can say is thank god it’s only three weeks. the teacher and my classmates are great, but learning a new language for that long every single day is just a lot. it’s nonstop vocab and grammar and rules and exceptions. there’s barely time to absorb it all before we move on to the topic.

that being said, i do think my german is improving. i’ve started thinking in german sometimes or being able to form full thoughts without totally blanking. it’s hard to say if it’s from the class or just from being surrounded by the language every day. probably both.

i still have a lot to learn, though. i try speaking german with cashiers and waiters, but somehow they always know i’m not a native speaker and switch to english before i can even finish a sentence. i still mess up pronunciation and grammar all the time. even basics like the alphabet trip me up. german “e” sounds like english “a,” “i” is “e,” “w” is “v”… and don’t even get me started on the umlauts. it’s going to take time and practice. my classmates and i have this joke whenever we don't understand something we will start to chant "üben üben üben" which just means practice.

something i’m really looking forward to is my family visiting! they’ll be here in freiburg from sunday to easter saturday, and i can’t wait to show them around and share all my favorite places. hopefully we’ll discover a few new ones together too. i haven’t felt super homesick yet, and i think a big part of that is knowing they’ll be here so soon. i’m excited to wrap up my last week in freiburg on a good note.

in deutsch

zweite woche in deutschland!

jetzt bin ich schon zwei wochen in freiburg. ich bleibe noch acht wochen. bald ist ostern, und dann haben wir eine exkursionswoche. ich habe nur noch drei tage deutschunterricht. die zeit geht schnell vorbei!

diese woche war sehr schön. das wetter war jeden tag sonnig. freiburg ist die sonnigste stadt in deutschland. ich war viel draußen. ich bin spazieren gegangen, gelaufen, und ich habe zeit mit freunden verbracht. wir waren in cafés und bars. wir haben viel zusammen gelacht und geredet.

am freitag war tessa’s geburtstag. sie ist jetzt 21! wir haben zusammen gefeiert. und natürlich habe ich auch den minecraft-film gesehen. das kino war voll. es war lustig und verrückt. ich werde diesen tag nicht vergessen.

diese woche war ruhiger als die erste. ich habe mich mehr ausgeruht. ich habe eine gute routine. ich mache nicht jeden tag etwas großes, und das ist gut so. ich habe ein bisschen weniger gepostet, aber ich will weiter schreiben. es hilft mir, die tage besser zu erinnern.

mein deutschkurs ist intensiv. ich habe jeden tag von 8:30 bis 13:00 uhr unterricht. es ist viel auf einmal. manchmal ist es schwer, alles zu verstehen. aber ich merke: mein deutsch wird besser. ich kann kleine sätze sagen. ich denke auch manchmal auf deutsch.

ich versuche, im supermarkt oder café deutsch zu sprechen. aber viele leute sprechen dann englisch mit mir. meine aussprache ist nicht perfekt. buchstaben wie “e”, “i” oder “w” klingen anders als im englischen. auch die umlaut-buchstaben (ä, ö, ü) sind schwierig. aber ich übe jeden tag.

nächste woche kommt meine familie nach freiburg. ich freue mich sehr! sie bleiben bis ostern. ich will ihnen die stadt zeigen. ich zeige meine lieblingsorte und vielleicht finden wir zusammen neue schöne plätze. ich habe kein heimweh, weil ich weiß: meine familie ist bald hier.

[little-devils-advocate]

I just realized that I never re-posted my pro-life argument to the blog after it was deactivated, so I've decided to do so now. However, I also realized that my original essay is not in my notes, so I'm going to re-write it & I apologize if I miss anything. I originally wrote this essay during the Supreme Court hearing, in which I predicted that Roe v. Wade would be overturned, so I apologize for any inconsistencies.

Let's begin with a simple Pro Life argument:

Premise 1) Human beings have bodily autonomy.

Premise 2) Unborn children have developing human bodies.

Conclusion One) Unborn children have bodily autonomy.

&

Premise 1) Murder is wrong.

Premise 2) To intentionally take the life of a human being with bodily autonomy is murder.

Conclusion One & Conclusion Two) Unborn children have bodily autonomy; therefore, abortion is a form of murder & is wrong.

First, we should define some of our terms.

Human:

Bodily Autonomy:

Murder:

As I stated previously, this essay will likely be organized much differently from the last, so let's begin by looking at the soundness of my premises & conclusions. 

Premise 1) Human beings have bodily autonomy.

This is as good a place to start as any, as most of us on both sides of this argument can agree that human beings have bodily autonomy. 

Let's keep this in mind moving forward, as we will be coming back to this shortly. 

Premise 2) Unborn children have developing human bodies.

This is the most common argument that I run into, that a fetus is not a baby. But it is a baby... This is simple logic. Pregnancy is a natural process responsible for all human life on Earth, including your own, & we all go through each subsequent stage of life until we die. 

Believe it or not, this also extends backward:

Every stage of life, inside & outside the womb, is a stage of human life that all living human beings must go through to grow & develop as a human being. This is not the same as a "parasite" as some radical feminists would have you believe. Neither are unborn children comparable to cancer cells, which can never develop into a separate entity.

Parasites are typically from a different species than their host; furthermore, the process of pregnancy in any species is categorically different than that of a parasitic relationship, otherwise, how else would parasites then reproduce? By definition, a parasite cannot begin living without a host at any point in its development or life cycle.

An unborn child -- referred to this way in order to differentiate between a human being that always exists in any stage of development as a person from the human species in a particular stage (zygote, embryo, fetus), meaning that a human in any stage is still a human -- is not an external invader. It is the means of propegation for the entire human race. This grants it the right to life, & thus bodily autonomy. 

Conclusion 1) Unborn children have bodily autonomy.

Thus, it would follow that an unborn child has bodily autonomy. They have all of the same rights that we previously discussed:

[Reference Above Image]

To further drive this point home, notice that bodily autonomy means being free from acting against your will as well as to be free from violence & physical acts to which you do not consent. An unborn child already has a will, even if it's the primitative will to simply live. In addition, bodily autonomy provides that you are free from acts with which you do not consent, which includes violent acts & killing -- meaning simply to terminate a life without the moral implications. It logically follows that we must give bodily autonomy to the unborn child & consider that its will to live, however unintelligible it may be, is the same as an action, meaning that to disrupt its growth would be to not only violate its bodily autonomy, but also to kill it. 

This leads us directly to the next step in my argument: 

Premise 1) Murder is wrong.

This one is much more difficult to assert than the premise in the first set, as we vehemently disagree as a country & a society about what constitutes as "murder", so let's look back at our definition & the previous conclusion. 

[Reference Above Image]

In my personal opinion, even though stating so may cause me to digress, all killing is wrong, as I am at heart a Kantian. You cannot both oppose killing & condone things such as war, capital punishment, & abortion. If the state is given the right to commit acts of murder, how then is the state to assert that murder is wrong for the rest of society? This is hypocrisy. I would assert that there is no such thing as killing without murder. I believe in the sanctity of life, not as a Christian or a right wing politician, but as an Eclectic Pagan. I value life in all its forms. 

Premise 2) To intentionally take the life of a human being with bodily autonomy is murder.

I've stated many times in the past that abortion is a form of murder. Abortion is the killing of a human being & the premeditated killing of another human being is murder. Whether or not the premeditated killing of an unborn child is legal or not is irrelevant, as it is currently legal in some places while not in others. Furthermore, legality doesn't necessarily denote morality.

Human beings are notorious for finding all kinds of excuses for murder, including "passion". Abortion is no different. In addition, during the Supreme Court hearing Justice Clarence Thomas made a seemingly infallible point about the state's right to prevent a woman from harming a child with drugs or alcohol even before viability. Even Rikelman conceded that the state has this right. If, in fact, the state has this right then the state also has the right to regulate abortion.

And finally, we come to this: 

Conclusion One & Conclusion Two) Unborn children have bodily autonomy; therefore, abortion is a form of murder & is wrong.

To be cuntinued (I'm tired)...

To Be Discussed:

Quality of Life Argument

Abortion is Healthcare

It more closely resembles hospice care than health care. Health Care strives to sustain life, not to inevitably end it.

[gcttacatchemall]

@sereina​ said: 🎁!

Egg-ceptional! || Accepting

[🧪] With how busy he was, he didn’t have the time to take care of an egg. As interesting and curious as they were about what was in the egg, they knew that they would do better in the hands of a trainer. Biting his lip, he took a moment to compose himself as he approached the young lady.

“U-Uhm... e-excuse me? Do... do you mind looking after this?”

* Serena received a Mudkip Egg! *

[smolvenger]

The Wedding of the King (Henry V/fem! Reader)

Summary: Henry consents to an arranged marriage to a Lady Y/N. He is enthusiastic about marrying this beautiful woman upon meeting her. But as the wedding day arrives, he learns that she, however, is not.

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Discussions of the fear of rape, as well as masturbation and sex without any actual smut. Men are gross (but not our boy Henry- he's a king in more ways than one). Medieval era attitudes and attempts at accuracy. Some angst but a lot of fluff. I snuck in references to Hamlet and Six The Musical. A reworking of a speech from Henry IV Part II

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise

A/N: hi guys! This one-shot takes place in the same universe as my miniseries The Twelve Days. But it's not required and hopefully will make sense outside the context. I got an idea from an ask to expand it with some one-shots and to write something more from Hal/Henry's POV. I was in a rush to write the first part bc I Wanted the whole shebang done by January 6th (and then I didn't. Oops.) So I realized I didn't go into detail about the wedding. I should have, because I read a blog post about how medieval-era weddings went and I thought it was fascinating. So this one will focus a LOT on the wedding, as well as before and after. I hope y'all like it- comments and reblogs and asks and dms about my work are appreciated!

The Earl of York spoke of her like that of a Disciple proclaiming the Word.

“This family shall be most advantageous in a match! They have always sworn duty and loyalty to our court. They have served us faithfully and will make excellent allies. I say you must reward them. And there is a daughter they have- the elder one. All of us in Parliament agree that she is the best match to be your queen!” he bragged.

Henry rested his arms on the ends of the throne. It was quite a tumultuous time. In less than a month, not only had he lost a father and gained a crown, but now the court had selected a potential wife.

“What of her? Who is she? What is her name?” He asked.

“Lady Y/F/N of the House of Y/L/N,” the Duke of York reported.

The Duke of Salisbury stepped forward, adding on.

“I met her at a ball hosted by her parents. A most virtuous, good lady. Her parents assure us she is chaste, of course. We know she will obey her parents should they agree to this match. No protestations, no running away, no rebelling- so the marriage will happen smoothly without incident. And, as a man, I must confess- she is beautiful too!

The Duke of York cut back in.

“Additionally, many kings and queens of many countries are your relations. And they say that marrying too much within the family distorts the minds and even bodies of the children from their union. I say, to keep the minds and bodies of your heirs undisturbed, you look to England for your wife. And what luck that we have found Lady Y/N!”

The Chief Justice nodded and then continued.

 “You are young, but so is Lancaster’s hold on the throne. You are only the second one after your father usurped Richard. You must secure your claim by taking a wife and siring an heir to continue your line.”

Perhaps as king, he could refuse them. But there were too many practical advantages. And they were all right. He never expected as he took the throne to marry for love. No, kings married for alliances and heirs. He took in a deep breath.

“Then let it be so. Go to her parents and tell her the betrothal is done now. And then bring them here- I’d like to meet her at least once before we are married,” he ordered.

His powerful voice echoed in the throne room The lords nodded and headed through the wooden doors to begin writing some eager letters.  

Part of him would rest a little easier. He would cement his hold on the throne, indeed.

But who was she? This Y/N? He was bursting with curiosity. Even excitement. The visit was set for the next week. He couldn’t help but count down the days amidst the parliament meetings.

Finally, the day they would be introduced arrived. He greeted each servant with a smile. As he breakfasted with his brothers- The Princes John, Thomas, and Humphrey- he announced.

“You all have a sister now. But she will also be your queen and you will still respect her-she is already part of our family! I asked you all to think of me as brother and father- think of her like a sister and mother.”

They nodded their brown heads and gossiped about her and her family.

An hour before, he went to his chambers. His attendants dressed him in the dark cloak with the jeweled clasp, the one from his father. Such dark, dreary colors he had to wear on what should be a joyous day. He looked out to where a bird chirruped right outside the stained-glass window.  

“I would like some fresher air, let me walk the gardens for a minute,” he ordered.

He would meet his betrothed- not only a wife, a queen! In only an hour! He paced about the grounds, trying to urge his heart to still. How could he woo this woman? Many men won women over by saying pretty poetry that made them swoon. Others danced so well that one could see the love in the ladies’ eyes. He could do neither.

What did ladies like? He looked down to notice the flowers in the gardens. Most ladies liked flowers, so it was foolproof. Some still grew despite the October cold.  But there was a small purple wildflower that caught his eye. He bent down and picked it up. That should be her gift!  He could give her jewels. Offer lands. But that would only show him off- no. There would be time after that.  A flower would fit for his first gift. He would show humility. His honor for the union. His honor for her.

The Lord of Exeter, his uncle, hurried through and approached.

“Your grace…they’ve arrived!” he urged with a smile.

Henry walked through to the inside, his guards following with their tall spears and silver helmets. His brothers were just behind among the attendants of lords. Eager to peek at the woman about to be their sister-in-law.

He paused before the throne room. Knowing she would be there. Just between those doors was England’s queen! He took a moment to breathe in and savor the last minute of being a bachelor. The old man with a black hat and a large cane stood before, awaiting the signal.

Exhaling deeply, Henry then nodded. The old man tapped the staff on the floor. The doors opened to the throne room.

The old man announced, in a booming voice “his royal majesty, Henry the Fifth!”

The crowd in the stone throne room turned to him. Bowing heads low as he passed through them. Which one was she-which one? There among the crowd, was a woman in a decorative pink dress. Two people- her parents- gestured for her to walk forward.

It was Her.   

She bowed her head down. She looked up at him, hands folded before her, right into his eyes. Henry felt frozen where he stood.

They were right.  She was beautiful. Truly beautiful to him. He felt a shock. The punch of desire, run through his body, his spine, his stomach,  his groin. He felt pulled to her like a moon drew the current of the ocean. He took a step closer. She looked him in the eyes, but he noticed her shoulder raise up.

He knew he frightened ladies. Most shivered in his approach. Prior to being king, despite his title, the higher-born princesses he met scoffed in his face when he was introduced. They knew his exploits as Prince Hal. When he went to Eastcheap, the Lower born women bowed without speaking. And Tavern Women were the ones who loved him- because he paid them to lie with their mouths and for him to lie in their beds.

In her presence, he almost forgot to speak. Her eyes reduced him to be not a king but a silent schoolboy. Then he remembered his words, rolling out his tongue.

“Lady Y/L/N. I greet you, most fair lady.”

“Your majesty,” she voiced. She bowed again for good measure.

God’s blood, he loved the sound of her voice already. He could hear her say that all day. The wedding couldn’t be soon enough.

He reached out his hand and she accepted it. He moved it so her palm faced upwards. He put the wildflower into her hand, right on the palm. Then he moved her fingers to curl over it. Her eyes went big.

“May I kiss your hand and call you, my queen?” he asked.

She nodded. Rather than lifting her hand, he bowed his head low. Like the flower, he would offer humility to this woman. He kissed the hand that held the plant and then returned up.

That dinner, she was placed to sit next to him. Her parents across. Forks clicked on plates on the wooden table. Her elder brother leaned towards him.

“Your majesty, her father and I will have her trousseau ready. We will make sure everything is in order for her dowry as well- we will speak to you after dinner about it in detail.”

Her trousseau; Her clothes. The clothes that soon enough, every night he would remove off this beautiful lady, kiss her bare flesh. And for the first time in months, and he would…no, now was not the time for that sort of thought.

Henry nodded his head. He still felt himself blush.

“That is all good...So, tell me, Lord Y/L/N. How are things with the rest of your family?” he asked the father.

“My mother is sickly, and it troubles me, else she’d be there," the father explained.

Would Y/N make a comment about that? He looked at her-no she didn’t. The utensils clattered against the plates as they ate. Click, click, click.

“The Duke of Lancaster-John, here,- encountered Hotspur's fellow rebels a little while ago- he has grown into quite a warrior- John, would you to tell us that?” Henry prodded.

John nodded and told them all about what happened. She made no reply. Click, click, click, went her fork and knife.

“What do you think of this, my lady?” Henry asked, turning to her.

The lady looked up. And then she nodded.

“I…I think…I think it is well. The Duke of Lancaster did very well,” She answered politely.

“Do you like the food, my lady?” he asked.

“Yes, I was hungry,” she answered.

She only spoke in short sentences. But even that was enough for him to hear her voice.

“Are you excited about the wedding?” he asked.

“I…I am. I only hope it shall please his majesty. And my father and mother as well,” she replied, eyeing them.

“It shall, Lady Y/L/N, it shall,” Henry assured her.

Her plate was cleared. She set down her utensils and wiped the remnants off her lips with her napkin. What would those pretty lips be like to kiss? How would they feel on him? In November, when the wedding was set, perhaps he would find out.

“This castle will be your home soon, what do you think? You’ll have access to the chapel, libraries, and large gardens- the queen always receives a stable full of beautiful horses all for her. What do you make of that?” he asked.

“It…it sounds nice,” she answered.

She was only shy. It only made her more endearing to him. Perhaps with time, she would open up.

“Our daughter enjoys dancing. And she is accomplished at sewing,” the father added.

“Do you?” Henry asked.

“Yes, my lord.” She answered.

“I’m sure you will have all the time you like to sew as you want when we're married. And there will be balls for you to dance for hours- would you like that?” he added on.

“Yes, my lord,” she repeated.

Once the dowry was established, the Lord's Y/L/N- father and son-bowed low and kissed his hand. Far more formal than the usual masculine embrace of about-to-be in-laws. As they returned to the crowd about to set off, Henry approached his intended and kissed her hand one last time.

“I will see you anon, my queen. Sleep well and stay in good health,” he said.

“And may you stay in good health, also,” she replied.

That night, he felt himself burning. Every time he tried to write a letter, he found he couldn't find the words to write to her. He paced about his chambers in his night shift. Excitement, as well as arousal, bubbled inside him. Soon, she would be here. She was only shy for a first meeting- he knew he had the crown on him! That was natural! But that beautiful woman would be on his bed. Opening more of her thoughts to him, as well as her legs. There would be nothing on her, nothing on him either. Then he would lay on her. And for the first time in months, he would enjoy the comforts only a woman could give him.

The memory of touching her hand, her bare skin, made him hard during that those nights before the wedding. He had no taste for prostitutes or even concubines anymore. They weren't her. So, in the privacy of his chambers, with the memory of her touch, he merely imagined her there. He closed his eyes, and relieved himself with his hand, whispering her name like a prayer.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The day of the November Wedding arrived at long last.

Minstrels began to play on their lutes and drums as soon as he left his chambers. He embraced each of his brothers and then entered to begin the procession to the church outside the castle. Henry was draped in his own red cloak with gold in it with a rich red doublet and pants. They walked out to the courtyard just outside the castle entrance.

As he walked outside, the London crowd gaped and gathered to see the line of people forming the party. Already, he could hear the loud bells from the church signaling the start of the wedding. One group walked entered from outside the gates and the minstrels began playing even louder. His heart raced and he smiled noting a white blur as it got closer- the bride.

“A most joyous day of days- I welcome all of you!” he announced before his people.

 They paused as the father approached with the about-to-be queen on his arm. He looked down and opened an arm to greet her.

But when he approached the head of the party, his feet stopped where they were.

 She did look very pretty in her white wedding dress. It was trimmed with gold that shone when she passed sunlight. Her father stood, grinning right next to her. But there were circles beneath her eyes. He saw her hands shake as she clutched a bouquet of flowers. She was blinking rapidly as if to fight off crying. And she wasn’t smiling. 

The English people and court were witnessing an exhausted, terrified, timid young woman on the verge of tears rather than a radiant and smiling Royal bride.

Her father placed her on Henry’s left side, as Eve came from Adam’s left. John, as the Best Man, checked his sword in his hilt. He was decked in armor and a red cloak, his sword by his side. It was tradition and not even royals were beneath it. John then mounted a horse to trot next to them. He was armed just in case the bride was kidnapped. But as Henry looked at her, she might have welcomed it.

They began to walk towards the church, the minstrels playing against the bells from the cathedral. Her gaze was always low, she never looked at him. When her eyes met his, she still didn’t smile. She backed off from even his cloak brushing her.

She seemed to shrink before the doors to the large chapel. It was as if her wedding dress regressed her into a little child. Even though everyone knew she was a woman grown and deemed fit for wedding and bedding.

His in-laws and behind, including his two youngest brothers and his uncle.

The priest for the ceremony would be the Archbishop of Canterbury an old man with a scratchy white beard. He held up a ring and asked in a scratchy voice.

“Does the bride’s father permit the marriage?”

“He does,” answered the father.

“Are the bride and groom related by blood?”

“They are not. He is of the house of Lancaster. She is of the house of Y/L/N,” answered the father.

The interview went on until the priest nodded his head. John swung off his horse. The doors swung open.

He took note of her, following her steps. She moved slow. Yes, it was ceremony. Henry partially wondered if she was delaying arriving at the altar just a little. When they arrived, her father caught up to be by her side. She handed him the flowers. John was by Henry’s side. Both escorted them to face the priest. The chapel was filled with the various courtiers. Members of her family were scattered amongst the pews as well.

The Archbishop took her hand and lifted it up. He placed it in Henry’s, he made sure to make his own hand light, as not to grip her. He noticed her chest slowly rising and down, deepening the breaths.

“Your grace, you will make your vows to the bride.”

He looked her in the eye. Trying to soften his voice. Maybe that would comfort her. He repeated after the priest.

“I will have and hold you in bed and at the table, be you fair or ugly, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” He vowed.

She gazed up at him like a doe. She blinked. He noticed her jaw unclench. The archbishop delivered a brief sermon on the sacred nature of marriage. He then blessed the ring and handed it to Henry.

Henry held the ring and repeated if after the priest.

“In the name of the Father…”

He slipped it on and off her first finger.

“…And the Son…”

He slipped it on and off her second finger.

“…And the Holy Ghost…”

On and off the third finger.

 “…I thee wed.”

He then placed it over the fourth finger of her left hand. She looked down at the golden band. Admiring it.

“Now, both of you kneel before the Altar for Mass,” instructed the priest.

She let go of his hand and they followed suit. Her father, John, and the Archibishop brought out a canopy, a long, white fabric. It was placed over his and the lady’s head.

“Kyrie eleison…”  sang the church choir before them.

 She was close. So close. Hidden betwixt this sheet. But not the passionate bedsheets of lust. The chaste, sacred canopy of church. The sunlight from the windows and candles filtered over the white sheet and he could see her.

He looked down at her. She looked up at him. Her hands had been folded to pray. But here, they could be granted some privacy. At least during the day. Of course, it was right before the Sanctus, in the pause between liturgy. When he shifted his hands forward, she backed off a little. She didn’t want to be touched now. He had to use words.

“How are you?” he whispered.

“I’m tired, my lord,” she replied.

He gave her a small smile.

“I am too.”

He gave her a wink. She did break one small smile at that.

“We…we need to go back to praying. They might hear.” she prodded.

“I agree,” he replied.

Finally, after the Amen, the attendants took off the canopy, revealing them. The archbishop returned the lady’s hand to join the kings. Then he went to Henry and kissed his forehead.

“I Bestow you the Kiss of Peace. You may give it to your Bride.”

He leaned down and lightly, so lightly, pecked her cheek. The archbishop made the sign of the cross over the couple. John then went over and handed a tiara to Henry. Henry placed it over her head. A wedding and a brief coronation in one.

“I now bless and pronounce thee, King Henry the Fifth and Queen Y/N, husband and wife," the archbishop announced.

The choir sang “agnus dei” as they both walked out together.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It was a lovely feast. There were love songs sung by the talented minstrels. Flutes lilted as ale and wine decked the plates. Flowers and gold were everywhere in the throne room, converted into a dining hall. There were more meats, loaves of bread, fruits, and delicacies than the king himself could name. As he finished off a leg of chicken, he checked in on his new wife next to him.

She could only stare out quietly and sip on her goblet. She had not said a word to him since they were served dinner.

Her mother arrived, curtsying at the table.

“Your grace, I would like a word in private with my daughter,” the mother announced.

“Then that you shall…” Henry nodded, gesturing for his new wife to be dismissed.

The mother led her out to the hall outside the dining hall. But Hal himself walked up, saying he was going to speak to the Duke of Burgundy who traveled all the way from France to the wedding.

Then he stopped at a corner. Standing right outside the hall- his ears peeled for the conversation between the women. He then stole glances at them sometimes, when he knew they wouldn't look.

“Y/N, my dear…you are a married woman now. We’ve discussed the specifics. But you must be reminded. There comes the…responsibility you bear. That is, to bear him on you..this would happen no matter who you married.”

“Yes, mother.” She nodded.

“The act is…not pleasant. It is painful when he…enters you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do. I’ve been thinking about it all day,” she replied.

“I trust you are chaste.”

“I swear on it, I am.” She replied.

“There will be bleeding and pain the first time. Men tend to be…enthusiastic. They are full of lust. It is their nature, how God made them. But considering who your husband is…Tonight, it will especially be expected. You will fulfill the very reason you were brought here. You will do your duty to your husband. And you will do it tonight. You know how important it is for the king to have a male heir.”

“Yes, I do, mother.”

“The act is... It is uncomfortable. It is awkward. But it is your duty. As a wife, you must do it. You will be brave and do what you have sworn to do not only for your husband- but for your king, and for England…”

“I promise, I won’t let anyone down. I don’t want to disappoint you or the king…I won't be a disappointment, I won't!” she insisted.

 “You won’t shut him off. You will enter the king’s bed…lift your skirt, spread your legs, and let it happen. It won’t be that hard. Just lie down on the bed- that’s all you have to do. It’s what he expects of you, and what he will want of you…men on their wedding night expect this. And the king will be no different.”

“Yes, mother.”

She touched her daughter’s arm to comfort her.

“Many men are…excited to bed their wives the first time. And no doubt, with such a vigorous, virile young king as we hear he is, he shall be. So tonight, it might not take long. Sometimes, men get so excited to perform the act that after they enter you…it ends quickly. It will only be a few minutes. Then you can go to sleep and go about as normal. And then you’ll have a baby to comfort you - doesn’t that sound nice?”

“It does.”

The young queen then touched her mother’s sleeve, her knuckles popping out as her hand turned into a grip.

“Mother will he….force himself on me?” she asked.

She paused.

“I don’t know…. And considering he’s the king…honestly, I’m not sure if you have a choice in the matter. When Henry says you and now…it’s you and now.”

He heard her start to cry. Her mother then hugged her, wiping the tears from her daughter's eyes.

“But you’ll live here in this wonderful castle, you will have dozens of servants and a baby someday…and you can always write to us…”

She broke the hug and then held her shoulder to look her in the eye.

“I say this only to prepare you. You will do your duty to the King -yes?”

“I will, mother. I won’t fail England. Or father and you.”

“Good. We are proud of you. And like I said, it will hurt…but it will be quick. Just a few minutes of pain, and then it’ll be done.”

He then turned his head and walked away. He asked for some ale and asked after the rotund, red-cheeked duke,  per his promise. Noting when mother and daughter returned to their seats. He then got back to his.

“Would you like to try the beef they made for us? They spiced it well, my lady,” he offered.

Her plate, loaded with food, was untouched.

“No thank you, my lord…” she replied.

“Do you feel sick? Do you need to retire?” he asked.

That last one did not come out the way he intended. Her eyes flashed up at him in a glare.

“I do not feel sick, my lord,” she replied firmly.

There, in that voice, was a touch of how she really felt. The flash of anger. The look she gave him, with a frown and crossed eyebrows. There. She was just like every other lady. She was frightened of him.

More than that-He revolted her. He disgusted her.

In short, she hated him.

If she wasn’t under the pressure of a royal marriage, if she wasn’t under the guidance of the court, the church, and her mother’s words…she would bolt from his side. She would lock her doors tight. She would avoid him. And if he offered his hand up to even walk chastely with him through the grounds, she would swat it away, screaming, and fleeing off.

As king, Henry could have anything. He could have spices imported from the East. He could command armies to march and invade lands for him. He had his own stable full of horses and hunting dogs that were all his. He could have exotic monkeys as pets. He could eat feasts every night and throw parties as he wanted. He could have the money stowed for the church if he wanted. He could have every other woman in England as his concubines. He could lay heavy taxes and have all the gold and wealth of the people in England.

But he could not have a wife who loved him.

If only the feast would hurry up. There was no way he could be alone with her. To talk to her. Perhaps to calm her down, let her know who he really was. Not until it was time for dismissal. But he found his plate, though half-eaten, had satiated him. He set down his fork. He saw his wife’s eyes grow big at the sight.

He turned over to the Earl of Exeter standing by him.

“Uncle … I think it’s time the queen and I excuse ourselves.”

A servant brought away the plate of untouched food from the young queen’s table. Her head turned his direction. She placed her fists onto the cloth napkin and clutched it.

The Lord of Exeter gave a naughty smile and drew his hand up. The minstrels stopped playing and the guests stopped chatting.

“Everyone, the king is going to retire with his bride to his chambers. It is now the hour where-to quote that Danish song- he will open the chamber door, and she will enter a maid and leave a maid no more,”

There was some snickering from a few male courtiers. A knot formed in Henry’s throat. The bride kept her head down and curled into her chair. She looked like a dog scared of its violent master.  

“The Bishop, the Lords, and her servants shall follow them to their rooms to sleep…or to be at it like rabbits…”

“Uncle, it is my wedding, let me speak,” Henry interrupted.

The Earl of Exeter closed his mouth and bowed his head. Henry stood up. He lifted his goblet in a toast.

“The rest of you shall stay here and drink another cup-for the blessing of the royal marriage. I am now not only a king, but a husband as well. We thank you all for celebrating with us today. We shall ask for your prayers for God to protect us both. May He lead us to wisdom and kindness with each other as we enter a new, sacred covenant…to health of the Queen of England!”

The crowd repeated “to the health of the queen!” as they all drank.

With a shaking hand, the queen took the goblet and downed water-maybe wishing it was wine. She then went up, and before the servants could escort her, she went down hugged her sister and her mother.

Then they gathered in a circle, lit torches, and walked down to his chambers. Minstrels beside them walked behind, playing away as one relayed a bawdy song about keys and locks with holes. The night had gotten dark and only that light was around. Behind were Henry’s three younger brothers. The Chief Justice, in a way, the surrogate father for the four Lancaster brothers, followed suit.

Down they walked. They entered the king’s room. Once it was father’s-and now it was his.

“Thank you all," he wished the party as they went inside.

Servants arrived and undressed them both. But he kept noticing many of the men leering at the bride as her ladies began to undress her. She eyed them nervously- a gazelle before a pack of hungry lions.

Henry then asked for a screen to be brought. A page boy arrived and set it up. She scurried behind it. One lord sighed in discontentment. Henry shot him a glare.

She would not suffer. If there was one thing he could do, he would not make her suffer. And he would remind them all who was really in charge. And she would know who it was she was really married to.

His jaw lowered when she emerged from the screen. She had no jewels or crown. She only had a simple white shift. Her feet were bare. She was raw, natural…and still beautiful. He wanted to embrace her in his arms. Kiss her head. Assure her all would be well. Protect her…

She was shivering. It was a November night, deep in Autumn with winter right in its nip. She raised her arms to hug herself. On her skin, he could see gooseflesh.

He brought her father’s old cloak and draped it over it. He offered his hand. She did not swat it away. She accepted it and he led her to sit down.

He then ordered all of them out.

“Now the rest of you- please leave the room…and do not stay at the door if you are not the guards…”

“But your majesty, we must make sure the marriage is consummated. You could at most close the drapes around the bed, but we must make sure you do your duty to your wife. For St. George and the sake of-“

“Yes, that is tradition. But seeing as I am the king now, here is a new one. I ask that all of you leave and go to your own rooms.” Henry protested.

They looked at each other in confusion.

The same lord spoke, “But how will we know if-“

“I’m sure once we discover she is pregnant, you will know the marriage is consummated. Now leave!”

No, he was the King of England now. Even as a prince, the guards had no choice but to let him out to visit Eastcheap. They couldn’t stop him. And every butcher and brawler bowed to him as he walked the streets.

And these earls would not be voyeurs on his wedding night. No matter how much they wanted to. Let them return to their rooms and pleasure themselves over imagining it. They would not see what would really happen.

And that poor girl would not be tormented before them.

 She flinched when he turned to her, but he assured her. Then, slowly, she placed her hand into his. She felt warm, soft to touch. She confided that she was not ready to consummate the marriage.

“You don’t need to worry. Nothing will happen tonight…”

She let out a deep exhale. He poured her a glass from the jug fill of spiced wine. It was tradition for the husband and wife to share it before they went to bed. It smelled of cinnamon. As he poured his own cup and sipped it, he could taste it’s slight kick in it’s dry flavor.

“You didn’t eat anything at the feast. Would you like me to ask for a plate?” he suggested.

“Yes, my lord.”

When he went up to the guard, he quietly requested “Please bring a plate of food for the queen. The feast leftovers will do.”

The guard raised his eyebrows in shock. This was not the sound he expected to hear that night. But he dipped his head and went down. But she drank her wine and ate all of her food.

She fell asleep curled up beneath the blankets on the bed. Finally, after everything, she was at peace. He finished the letters he had to write at his desk. He kept peeking over to see the bump in the blankets and it’s slow breathing. He went back up to the guards.

“I’d like to delay the morning mass for later. Let’s say around ten.  It was a long day. She needs to rest…and so do I.”

The guard nodded.

He went into the bed. It was big enough to where he wouldn’t be able to touch her. He curled up on his side, listening to her breathing as he closed the bed curtains and his eyes.

They slept in. The mid-morning burst through the room, through the curtains.  He awoke before her. She was still asleep. He paused to admire her through the slivers of light.

The attendants arrived, surprised to find the king and queen turned to the opposite sides, away from each other. He wanted to shake her awake, but his hand stopped. No, he would not touch her when she did not want to be touched. He let a lady in waiting wake her.

They sat in the castle's smaller chapel for morning prayers. They waited for it to start when a bishop would arrive to lead them. He sat next to her on the bench on the first row. He turned to her.

“Did you sleep better?”

“Aye, my lord.”

“That’s good…may I eat with you, my lady?”

“Aye, my lord.”

At breakfast, they sat at the table. He was on one side with the high chair, just as his father did before him. She sat on the other side. Close and far away.

“I don’t think I ever gave you a wedding gift," he said.

“I received many wedding gifts, my lord.”

“The court isn’t around you…you can call me Henry," he suggested.

“I received many wedding gifts…Henry.” She corrected.

“Is there anything you would…you would like? Name it, and it’s yours.” He offered,

She looked down, a bit hesitant. Then she opened her mouth.

“I’d like some new dresses if you don’t mind…my trousseau was full of my old ones. I’d like ones that would fit me now that I’m…that I’m queen, please.”

“Oh, of course! I will alert several people. You can have as many as you would like!"

“Thank you, Henry.”

He felt himself blush a little at the sounder of her voice saying his name. He ate another bit of food. The lute in the corner began playing.

“Y/N…do you have a favorite color?” he asked.

She blinked. She answered him. He kept note.

“Mine is black…black and red,” Henry replied.

It was small, but a start.

He asked to enter her room in December. It was the day after the Feast of St. Stephen. They would eat dinner together. The Earl of Warwick had to be the messenger this time. He blushed and nodded. Everyone knew when the king asked to dine with the queen, it was expected for them to make love after the meal. But he would not expect that. He just wanted to be alone with her. To talk to her even more, with the guards at the door and not around the wall.

He had finished studying and his brothers and the chief justice saw them off. As he knocked and entered, the door closed. The Cheif Justice began chatting with John as they walked off to the halls. Yet the two youngest Lancaster brothers, stayed behind, peeling an ear to the door.

“My lady Y/N,” Henry greeted her.

“My lord and king,” she replied. “The dinner is almost ready- they’re about to bring it in. I’m sorry the table is bare…”

“Don’t be. We can wait.”

The servants brought in the food through the door and left. But as they walked off, they noticed Thomas and Humphrey remaining. They looked at each other and kept their ears at the door. The two little brothers kept spying on the couple until there was the sound of footsteps from the hall.

"Where are they? Where are the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester?! cried the Chief Justice.

He arrived with John right outside the door. The boys jumped and returned to their feet with obviously fake innocence. John crossed his arms at them.  The Chief Justice looked red beneath his long, white beard. He huffed through his bulbous nose. He put his arms akimbo.

"What are you doing outside the queen's chambers?"

The boys looked at each other. Their lips were quivering.

“We just…just wanted to…to know…what happens, you know? The... Act. Father never got the chance to tell us what happens on the Wedding Night so…we just…” Humphrey explained.

The Chief Justice shook his head. John turned to them.

“I’ll explain it to them.” He offered.

He walked forward, and with both hands, yanked the ears of his two little brothers. They both went “urgh!” with the pain as he dragged them both away from the door. Off to give them the fateful talk without overhearing anything in person.

The guards stiffened their jaws to keep from smiling. The Chief Justice followed them.

If they managed to stay, they would have been disappointed. The “Act” did not happen that night. They only talked.

“My father compared me to Richard…Before I made an arrogant remark, and he struck me…” Henry recalled.

“Well, serves him right!” she said.

That made him laugh. They talked more as the ate.

“Has it occurred to you, Y/N, that you’re the Queen of one of the largest, and most wonderful countries of the world? And if they bow before me, they should bow before you,” Henry said. Her eyes widened and she blinked slowly. Processing the information.

Then they went to bed. But only to sleep. She told Henry she wasn’t ready yet. But they lay closer together.

“Y/N…has a man ever held you…held you in his arms….” he wondered.

“Why would you ask me that?”

“I wanted…wanted to know…I can touch you without…without…”

“Are you asking to hold me?” she asked.

“It’s cold. And you get cold easily if I recall.”

“Then yes, you can hold me…” she confirmed.

He wrapped his arms around her and he felt her arms reach around him. She felt so warm and soft. She smelled of the lavender they must have put in her bath today.

“Y/N…can I kiss you…” he asked.

“You’ve kissed my hand," she replied.

“On the lips, I mean.” Henry specified.

That felt bold. But this time, she did not object.

“Yes, you can,” she answered.

He raised his large hand to cup her smooth cheek, but as light as if she was made of glass. She looked him in his eyes, eyes he could stare at until they consumed him. As they laid their heads against the pillows, he craned his neck forward and kissed her. She tasted like wine and sauce. He felt himself blush red hot and could feel the breath from her nose. His heart burst forward and began to race with excitement. He was glad he was laying down, his knees felt weak from her lips. Finally, finally, he did it. He kissed her. And he knew that he would give her half his kingdom and his throne too if she blessed him with her lips again and asked for them.

He let go, the lips smacking quietly as they parted. The fire crackled as white puffs of snowflakes fell outside the window.

“Goodnight Henry,” she said.

“Goodnight. Y/N.”

He looked down on her as she slept. Far from the bride with shaking hands and blinking away tears in November. So peaceful. So warm. So safe. Henry felt something fill up his chest as he watched her quiet breathing again. Only this time, she was nestled close to him.

Once he was certain she was fast asleep, He then whispered lowly. Words like those he once spoke over the father he thought was dead.

“My gracious lady…my wife…”

She did not stir to awaken. She stayed in the realm of dreams, where she could not hear him. That made speaking these words easier at the moment.

“This is a sleep which gives much rest to those most troubled. You most of all. What is due from me is fidelity and acts of gentle patience, which nature, love…”

He leaned down, and lightly, oh so lightly, pecked her forehead.

“And marital tenderness I will give you, plenteously.”

The wind whistled as more snow well.

“Your only debt is to have someone who will treat you well-which as your husband I owe you. So, rest, sweet Y/N. And I will stay here I will guard you. Until I fall asleep beside you.”

He then prayed. Looking up, a small smile on his face.

“Dear Lord, I thank you…I thank you for her…she will be good for me…she will teach me so much…let me be a good man for her…”

She wouldn’t hate him. He would do everything he could to make sure she didn’t hate him. If he could not be loved, he would be liked. Perhaps he could be liked. And then, one day, one day at last…she would love him.

He smiled as he fell asleep, embracing his wife.