#it was really funny though bc that human baby in the waiting room was such a distraction that he stopped freaking out for like 2 minutes. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagines-r-s · 3 years

Text

sticking it - j. farabee

chapter 6

a/n: now you’ll all see why i said be excited for ch. 6 lmao. (also, with ch. 5 not showing up in the tags for a minute, some might not have seen it, so i’ll link it here) but anyways, this chapter was difficult to write bc i’m not used to writing anything but angst lmao. and huge shoutout to my baby gracie for helping me out with this chapter. please enjoy and i’d love to hear feedback

also, like i told an anon, this is in memory of bee’s hair :(( (he still looks good with the new hair, don’t get me wrong)

taglist: @butgilinsky @barbienoturbby @sunsetholland @lovenhlboys @sortagaysortahigh @hockey-racing-fubol @oopsiedoopsie23 @iwantahockeyhimbo @dreamsndior

warnings: (2) your mom jokes, jealous!joel?, once again simp nation for the both of them, swearing (it’s a problem ngl), idiocy

sticking it masterlist

wc: 4.1k

(gif not mine)

When you told Marcus and Michelle that you had to be out for a month, they advised you to only come to the gym three times a week for two hours for the first two weeks and you’d figure out a plan for the two weeks after, that way you could take a much needed break out of the gym. The thing stressing you out the most was gym and they obviously realized it, so they were hopeful it would give you a chance to breathe.

You planned to go to the gym Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays from 6-8am and then you would spend the rest of your day at home doing whatever you needed to do that day. The first Monday you spent those two hours doing ab workouts and helping the other girls around the gym, then you went home and stayed in your room for the rest of the day. You put your phone on do not disturb, so no one heard from you, which caused Kevin to come to your apartment to make sure you were okay.

Tuesday played out the exact same way, early practice, then going home and staying in bed, and Kevin coming to make sure you were alright. Kevin even invited you to come out with him and some of the boys, which you politely declined saying they should have their time together. Wednesday, you simply stayed in bed, choosing to actually keep your phone on today, you were just tired and felt drained from everything going on right now that you couldn’t really muster up the energy to talk to anyone.

Wednesday night, as you were rewatching Marvel movies, your phone started ringing with a call from Ryanne. Quickly answering it, “hey Ry.”

“Hey babes, how’re you doing?”

“I’ve been better, I’ve also been worse, so.”

“Me and Claude were wondering if you’d want to come over and hang out with us and Gav for some of the day, we’ll provide food and such, but we miss you, babe. So, we figured we’d ask while you have a chance.”

In reality, Ryanne had heard from Claude that you wouldn’t be able to do extensive training for at least a month. She might not have known much about gymnastics, but she knew you well enough to know that you were always constantly training - she was well aware that if that ever got taken from Claude that he would be devastated if he was out for that long and with two weeks to prepare for a big game.

She had checked in to see how you were with Kevin one day after practice and when he mentioned everything that was going on, she was worried about you. She knew that she likely wouldn’t be able to help much, but she did know that there was one part of the equation she could help. Knowing that she already had a plan to have a send off party before the boys went on a roadie and also knowing that everyone on the team would be there, she somehow conveniently planned to invite you over a few hours before it started.

“Oh, yeah, I’d love to, honestly. What time do you want me over?”

“Anytime after three is fine. I’ll see you then, hun. Oh, and wear something cute.”

“Why exactly?”

“Just do it,” Ryanne said, not having time to think of an excuse, “bye.”

As you were about to say something else, the ring that told you she had hung up rang out.

…..

Joel wasn’t doing as good as he wanted to be recently and with an upcoming roadie, he knew he needed to spend more time on the ice before the game. Having asked a few of the guys to work with him during an unscheduled morning skate, he was able to work on what he needed to.

“Wait, so she’s out how long?” Joel overheard Travis ask Kevin as he made his way into the locker room.

“Like four weeks, but two weeks with the brace and basically no training, then two weeks with athletic tape on her knee and no hard landings. But she’ll only have two weeks before Championships, so she's not feeling too great about it. Plus, she has to use her brace and crutches again and she didn’t enjoy that the first time,” Kevin replied.

“Is she going to be okay?” Joel hadn’t meant to ask his question aloud, but as soon as Kevin heard his voice a smile grew on his face.

“Yeah, Lover Boy, she’ll be fine. She hasn’t really been up to do anything recently, but other than that I think she’ll be okay. She has to use her crutches again, which is honestly very entertaining,” Kevin stated before turning to leave the locker room, turning right as he got to the doorway, “random question, are you planning on going to G’s for the send off party tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering,” and with that Kevin was gone, leaving a confused Joel behind.

Kevin knew that you had a lot on your plate right now and that you wouldn’t want to go to anyone about your problems. He also knew that the both you and Joel, were simply too stubborn to fix the problem going on between you on your own, hence why he had mentioned something to Ryanne. He knew that Ryanne would jump at the chance to be able to help you feel better and as soon as she mentioned the party set-up idea, he was in. The plan was then mentioned to most of the team, knowing that the help of many was needed in order to help the two idiots.

…..

After sending Kevin a quick text that you were leaving, you left your apartment and made your way to Ryanne and Claude’s house. Gently knocking on the door, you smiled when Ryanne opened the door, “awe, babe, I’m so happy you’re here, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too. Not to be rude, but where is the tiny human?” you asked, looking past Ryanne to see Gavin walking towards you, “hi, bub. Oh my god, you’re getting so big.”

“Well if you came around more often, you’d get to see him more,” Ryanne mumbled, watching you play with the boy in front of you.

“I heard that,” you said, in a sing-song voice.

“You were supposed to,” she replied, mocking your tone, “anyways, Claude is on his way back from the store, so he’ll be here soon, but I haven’t talked to you in forever, how’s everything? How’s gym?”

“Oh, well. I’ve been better, this last meet definitely wasn’t all that great and not being able to train doesn’t really help my case either, but I’m making the most of it,” you said, shrugging.

“And you’re actually having to listen to Adrian this time around?” she said, pointedly, causing you to chuckle.

“Yeah, I have to actually listen to Adrian this time,” you smiled, “I hate that I have to actually wear my knee brace, though. And I have to use crutches. Can you believe that?”

“Considering it’s you, I’m more shocked that you’re actually using them.”

“Ry, shh, let’s not call me out too much today,” you replied.

It wasn’t too long before you heard the front door open, Claude walking in a few seconds later, “awe, it’s my favorite babysitter. Come on, babe, let’s leave while we can.”

“Haha, I almost forgot how funny you are, G,” you said, sarcastically.

“I’m sure, I’m sure. You know what would be nice though?”

“What?”

“Helping me put the groceries up,” he said, smiling sweetly causing you to groan.

“Are chores and babysitting all I’m good for to you?”

“Well,” he looked up to the ceiling, as if he were thinking for another answer,”hm, nothing comes to mind, y/n/n.”

“Oh, that was mean,” Ryanne said, playfully elbowing Claude.

“Thank-”

“She’ll never babysit again if we’re mean to her,” Ryanne smirked.

“Oh, wow, I see how it is, don’t worry,” you said, the three of you laughing.

As the three of you were setting out groceries - you mostly sitting on the kitchen island, taking things out of the bag - the three of you caught up. Claude talking about his hopes for these next few games, Ryanne talking about how Gavin was doing - not missing the few times Gav ran through the kitchen -, and you talking about whatever you could.

“Ok, so we haven’t brought this up yet, but I was just wondering if you had any idea what’s going on with Beezer? I know you guys had gotten closer recently and he’s just not himself, so I’m asking if you know anything,” Claude asked, closing the fridge before turning back to you. Both him and Ryanne had a pretty good idea of what happened, but if they were missing something, they wanted to know.

“Oh, um, well, about that one,” you sighed, gathering your thoughts, “me and him kinda haven’t talked since I told him I only wanted to be friends.”

“Ok, but from the looks of it, it looked like both of you wanted to be more than friends?”

“Yeah, but, there’s a lot more to it, you know.”

“No, actually, I’m a tad bit lost, y/n/n.”

“Look, I can’t have any distractions right now and I was worried about it affecting gymnastics, so I told him I only want to be friends.”

“That’s dumb,” Claude replied, quickly.

“Thank you, many people have mentioned that.”

“He has no place to talk in a situation like this,” Ryanne finally spoke up, causing you to look between the pair confused, “when his life was just hockey, hockey, and hockey, nothing could fill those spots. So, when our relationship was first starting he did the same thing to me that you’re doing to Bee.”

“This was supposed to be a philosophical moment and you messed it up,” Claude replied.

“I didn’t mess it up, you’re just mad because you basically called yourself dumb. But pushing him away isn’t a smart option and it just hurts both of you in the process,” Ryanne said before walking back to where Gavin was.

“Look, I know you said you didn’t want distractions, but this seems to be having a worse effect on you than you hoped. From the looks of it, when you started pushing him away, it affected your performance. Just pointing that out for you.”

“Yeah, I know. You didn’t have to point it out, you know.”

“Yeah, but you would have continued to ignore the obvious fact that you were just scared of a relationship in general,” he shrugged.

“I don’t even know how to talk to him about it or at least how to start the conversation.”

“Well, lucky for you,” he looked down to check his watch, “the guys are all coming over in like 10 minutes, so you’ll see him then.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, it’s a send off party for the roadie this weekend, why do you think we got so many groceries?” and with that he left you in the kitchen by yourself.

…..

Joel sat in the backseat of Kevin’s car, Nolan in the passenger seat, as they made their way to G’s house. By the time they got there, most of the guys had already gotten there, seeing a few familiar cars in the driveway, but one stood out in particular. He knew that it was yours from some of the times he had seen you driving, “what’s y/n/n doing here?”

Nolan and Kevin both chuckled at that, “she came over here earlier to watch Gavin, I think,” Kevin said.

“Oh, cool,” Joel replied, attempting to sound nonchalant as possible

“Don’t try to act like you’re not freaking out. You aren’t slick, dude,” Nolan added, shaking his head, “you two better talk, too. Because everyone is tired of the two of you being idiots and not talking shit out.”

“We’re not idiots.”

“You are,” the other two said in unison. Joel didn’t try to argue as he followed the pair inside their captain’s house.

As soon as he entered the house, he took note that almost all the team was here, most of the team was outside, but he immediately found you sitting on one of the barstools with Gavin sitting on your lap as you talked with Ryanne. “Go talk to her,” Nolan whispered, causing him to jump.

“God, Pat. What the fuck?” Joel said turning around.

“I said what I said. You’ll have to talk at some point, might as well just do it. Plus, she’s on crutches, so like, if she wants to run away it will take her a while.”

“Um, that’s- I mean, that’s valid, but-”

“At some point today, you should talk to her. I obviously can’t make you and it’s up to you, but I think it would help fix things,” Nolan said, shrugging.

“Yeah, I know, I know. I plan on it.”

You and Ryanne had stayed inside with Gav since the boys were grilling outside, so when Nolan, Kevin, and Joel walked in, you were one of the first people to notice. Kevin made his way over to you almost as soon as he came in, “so, you enjoying the party?”

“Considering I didn’t know it was happening, sure I’m having a great time, Kev.”

“Well, I guess it’s a surprise party then,” you quickly shot him a glare, “surprise.”

As you heard the back door open, you looked up to see Joel already looking at you, shooting you a quick smile as he followed his teammate to go outside. “I swear, if all you guys do tonight is spare glances at each other and don’t talk, I’m going to lose it,” Ryanne said from beside you.

“I think everyone will, to be honest,” Kevin added, “well, I’m going outside. If you need any help, just let me know.”

The boys had a few different plans in place to get the two of you to talk; conveniently sending Joel in to help while you were inside, telling Joel to go help out inside, asking Joel to get Gavin, and as a last resort, make Joel jealous.

When everyone had been done eating, Claude asked some of the younger guys to help him clean up and bring out the cooler with drinks that was still inside. Joel had somehow conveniently avoided going inside while helping and when he did, he went straight to the kitchen and right back out. He wasn’t wanting to avoid you all night, but he didn’t know what to do. Shortly after, Claude had asked Joel to go in and get Gavin, somehow right as you had left Gavin with Ryanne, which also ruined that plan.

Ryanne knew that it would be suspicious if they kept trying those same plans. So instead, she basically forced you to go outside with her. She helped you get outside, Kevin shooting up from his chair to help you get down the stairs of the deck, “you don’t have to help me out, Kev.”

“Knowing you, you would trip and break something. You’re already hurt enough,” he said, causing you to roll your eyes. As Kevin looked up, he didn’t miss the way Joel lit up as he saw you, “hey, your boy is looking over here.”

Looking up, your eyes once again met his, to which you sent him a light smile, “yeah, he’s been watching me since I stepped out here.”

“y/n/n, you would only know that if you were looking at him, too.”

“Yeah, I never said that I wasn’t though.”

“You know, it’s obvious the two of you aren’t mad at each other or anything like that. So, why the fuck haven’t you talked yet?”

“Oh, um. Words are hard,” you said, walking away towards Travis and Nolan on your crutches.

“You’re literally on crutches, you aren’t moving that fast.”

“You know who else isn’t moving that fast?”

“y/n. I swear, if this is another your-”

“Your mom,” you yelled back to him.

“What is up with you and making your mom jokes?” Nolan asked as you got closer to them.

“They’re funny?”

“y/n/n just has the sense of humor of a middle school boy, that’s why her and Beezer got along so well,” Travis added, helping you move your crutches so you could sit down at the table they were at, “how are the crutches?”

“How’s your mom?” you laughed, causing the two of them to groan, “nah, they’re not fun. In any way shape or form.”

As you were talking to Nolan and Teeks, Kevin and Ryanne realized that none of the plans they had tried were working. Both of them knew that the only plan that would probably work was to make Joel jealous, so Kevin texted Carter, Morgan, Nolan, and Teeks to let them know that was the plan that they were going with.

“y/n looks really good today,” Carter said, causing Joel to spit out his drink.

“Better watch yourself, Hartsy,” Joel replied, shooting a glare towards his friend.

“I was just being honest, she really does. There’s nothing going on between you guys anymore, right?” Carter watched as Joel visibly tensed at the mention of what was happening between the two of you, knowing that the plan was working he continued, “I mean, if nothings going on between you two, then she’s single, right?”

“Well, I mean-” Joel stuttered out, “we haven’t talked in a while, but that doesn’t mean-”

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Carter said, making his way over to the table you were at, causing Nolan and TK to chuckle as they saw Joel’s face drop, “hey, y/n/n.”

“Hey, Hartsy, it’s been a minute. How is everything?” you smiled. You kept talking to the group around you for a while, not noticing the way Joel was becoming visibly angry. He didn’t want to seem jealous, but he assumed that Carter had been flirting with you this whole time, so he made the executive decision to talk to you now.

Since your back was facing him, you didn’t see him coming, but the three boys around you did, only trying to hide their smiles since the plan was actually working. “Hey y/n, can we talk?” he asked.

You turned around to finally face the boy you had been avoiding, “yeah, hold on a sec.” As you continued some of your conversation, Joel was getting more and more irritated, mostly because Carter was sending looks his way that he couldn’t exactly read. Joel, being the impatient person he was, pulled the chair you were sitting at away from the table, pulling you up to stand before lifting you up over his shoulder, “Bee, what the fuck?”

He simply ignored you as he carried you up the stairs and back inside his captain’s house. You tried pushing yourself off as he made his way up the stairs, but it was deemed useless when he just tightened his grip, “Farabee, I swear to god. I will hurt you.”

Eventually, he opened the door to the guest bathroom and gently set you down on the counter before locking the door, “what the fuck was that for? If you want to talk, you could have just waited a second. But no, you had to be all dramatic about it,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Are you done?” Joel asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the door.

“I mean, yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah, but I’m tired of us ignoring each other and I miss you, so we need to figure stuff out.”

“Awe, you miss me? That’s cute,” you smiled.

“y/n/n, I swear, now is not the time for that one.”

“Ok, sorry. I’ll be serious now,” you said, crossing your arms to mock him.

“I just want to know what happened at the lake?”

“Oh, we’re going straight to the point, alright,” you sighed, “look, what I said at the lake wasn’t true. I got this idea in my head that if you were in my life, you were a distraction from what I wanted.”

“How’d that work out for you?” he said, smirking.

“Oh, no, see that’s what we’re not going to do. No need for the attitude. Anyways, I had this idea that if anything happened between us, that I would mess it up and it would mess everything in my life up. So, pushing you away was the safest option.”

Joel took a moment to gather his thoughts before pushing himself off the door and made his way closer to you, ending up standing between your legs with his hands on either side of you, “look, I’m saying this and I mean it. I understand where you’re coming from with the fear of distractions thing, but I want you to know that I would never intentionally keep you from your goals and dreams. I’m just extra support, you know.”

“Yeah, I realized that after you ran from the lake house. We could have had this figured out by now, if you had stayed,” you said, sarcastically. Rolling your eyes for added dramatic effect.

“Oh, shut up. You have no place to talk, babe,” he said, smiling when he heard you giggle, “what was that for?”

“I kinda missed you calling me babe, I guess. Kinda crazy, dude.”

“Awe, so you did miss me?”

“I never said I didn’t,” you said, quietly reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. You saw the way that his eyes went from your eyes to your lips, “I also missed this,” and with that you pulled him closer until your lips met in a long awaited kiss.

As the two of you broke away, your foreheads were still together, “hey, Bee?”

“Yeah?”

“You know who else I missed? Your mom,” you laughed.

“Way to ruin the moment, babe,” he smiled, “That was funny though, so I respect it.”

“Dude, I’m so funny sometimes.”

“Looks aren’t everything, babe,” he said, laughing at the gasp you responded with.

“Oh, that was rude. I’ll get you back one day though,” you watched as he went to leave the bathroom, “hey, Bee. I’m not supposed to walk without crutches, hate to break it to you.”

Rolling his eyes, he made his way back to you, turning around right in front of you, “here.” You leaned a little bit forward, wrapping your arms around his neck once again as he readjusted his grip on the back of your legs, so he could give you a piggyback ride on the way back outside.

“You know, they didn’t tell me there was a party,” you spoke as he made his way back towards the door.

“Oh, they said it was teammates only and then I saw your car,” he replied, pausing a moment as the two of you realized what had happened at the same time, “so, this was-”

“Yep.”

“And Hartsy saying he was going to ask you out was part of it?”

“Hartsy said he was going to do that,” you started cackling. “Wait, were you jealous of him?” you asked laughing even harder.

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh, yeah. I know, it’s hilarious.”

“I will drop you right now,” he said, as he opened the door for outside, “and you’ll stuck right here, Ms. ‘I can’t walk down stairs right now’.”

“That’s a low blow,” you said, as the two of you made your way back to the table you were at.

“Oops, sorry, babe,” he set you down close to your chair, but sat down before you could.

“Oh, so now you steal my chair, too?”

“Oh, shut up, you’re fine,” he said, pulling you to sit in his lap, “there you go.”

“So, I see the two of you made up?” Nolan asked, pointing at the two of you.

“We also made out, in case you were wondering,” Joel replied, earning an elbow to the stomach, “ow, that hurt.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you replied, causing the smile on his face to grow even more.

When Kevin and Ryanne watched the two of you walk back outside, they were happy to see that the plan worked. Ryanne simply laughed and shook her head as she heard the exchange between the two of you, “they are so in love and I don’t even think they realize it.”

“Ryanne, that is a big word, that I’m not prepared for. So, please, let’s not do that today,” Kevin replied, earning a laugh from Ryanne, “they’re happy though, that’s all that matters to me.”

#sticking it #joel farabee #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #philadelphia flyers #joel farabee x reader #joel farabee imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #beezer #joel farabee x gymnast!reader

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hoe-imaginess · 4 years

Note

Please please please Dabi/Hawks threesome with reader relationship headcanons??? With NSFW if you’re feeling up to it.

💦 👅💦 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 💦 👅💦 💦

Dabi x reader x Hawks relationship !!

•Hot, but possibly the worst decision of your life ngl

•Dabi... just ain’t about it. Like, he won’t consider it a relationship so much as it’s just an arrangement. Because if it were a relationship and that meant you were with him then you are going to be with him and him only, screw that other guy

•Hawks isn’t overly fond of sharing either but it’s... doable

•You’re definitely going to be around Hawks more often (despite the fact that he’s a busy guy) because he is just... so much nicer to be around lmao

•Sure Hawks is a little spastic sometimes, and his idea of romance is pulling like... 14 things of yakitori out of his pocket at any given moment and suggesting you two have a “quick lunch date” on some rooftop somewhere, and by quick he means like five minutes so better hurry up and CHEW—

•Still so much better than hanging out with Dabi though sksksk

•Dabi will just... laze around and completely forget you’re with him. You breathe too hard and he’s like DAMN bitch you scared me how long you been sitting there tf?... don’t sneak up on people like that

•Most of the time when you three are together, it’s you and Hawks having an actual conversation as you’re snuggled up on a couch somewhere, while Dabi is lounging on the opposite couch and insulting both of you/making crude comments when he sees fit

•Especially if Dabi is trying to sleep and you two won’t shut the hell up he will actually tell you to the shut the hell up. And Hawks is like “Dude there are other rooms to sleep in. Just leave.” And Dabi is like “...You leave”.

•Dabi is a dick sorry. He may or may not make you cry at any given time because he’s just so... mean. Okay even if you’re not crying, he can very easily destroy your mood and just ruin your whole day

•Which is when Hawks gets to swoop in and cheer you up. Dabi will see this and be a little annoyed but at the end of the day... whatever. If you wanna be babied you can hang out with Hawks. Good riddance in Dabi’s opinion

•Basically Hawks pampers the hell out of you and treats you like his little angel and it makes Dabi nauseous

•Okay I really do not think either of them would ever jump at the idea of a threesome because they... just... can’t stand each other

•Dabi is going to constantly complain about not being able to keep his dick hard because “This stupid chicken can’t keep his wings to himself” and always smacks them out of the way (Hawks is very bad about keeping his wings under control during sex. You make one hot moan and they flutter out in excitement, and Dabi is at constant risk of getting accidentally shanked by a feather because of it)

•And meanwhile Hawks can’t concentrate on doing what he needs to do when Dabi is saying the absolute filthiest words he has ever heard in his life come from any human being’s mouth, ever. How is that dirty talk allowed? Hawks is like?? Is anyone else hearing this shit??

•Hawks will be between your legs giving you that Signature Head™ and Dabi is suddenly telling you how hard he’s gonna fuck you and how loud you’re gonna scream for him and how he wants to hear you cry and beg for it and that he can’t wait to mess you up— then Hawks will pop up, like, absolutely horrified??? Like?? WHO SAYS THAT??

•(Hawks will never fully believe it if you tell him that this type of dirty talk actually turns you on... yet.. he will start trying to dirty talk you too. It’s hot as shit but it’s not as fucking filthy as Dabi. Dabi just... it comes so naturally it’s scary)

•So yeah expect most of the sex to be... separate. Everyyyy once in a while you’ll be having sex with one of them, then the other suddenly walks in like... oh... welp *starts unzipping his pants* don’t mind if do—bc he’s too horny to leave now. So he jumps in to join the fun, despite the other guy’s complaints

•They’re both so goddamn annoying sometimes though jfc. Dabi will ignore you for a week straight then bust down the door when you’re trying to nap, because suddenly he’s bored and wants attention and it’s almost always sexual attention, the same attention he’s been neglecting to give you, but don’t tell him that because... he won’t give a shit. And if you don’t wake up and give it to him, he’s gonna slide under the sheets and start pinching and groping and rubbing you everywhere those hot hands can reach, and/or physically kick you out of bed when you still don’t respond

•Meanwhile Hawks will be having a conversation with you about... literally... the paint on the wall and then suddenly he’s like!!! Hey... so... want sum fuck?

•They’re both randomly horny and it is a mess

•(Ok I lied Hawks is always horny.) (Dabi is horny like... every third Monday of the month and it has to be a full moon and the stars have to be aligned and—... but yeah ok, since he’s finicky and only fucks you every once in a while, when he finally does want in your pants, it’s sooooo wild. You’re getting fucked until you can’t walk for three days)

•So basically between the walking aphrodisiac (Hawks) and Japan’s Number One Sadist (Dabi) you somehow get no break, and honestly idk if it’s physically healthy to be having as many orgasms as you do have between the two of them

•Dabi can be pretty crude and inconsiderate, and after fucking you, will probably tell Hawks he can go ahead have his “sloppy seconds”, which um... is obviously pretty degrading for you. Fuck Dabi.

•But Hawks is like fuck it bro do I look like I care?? He just wants to give you some luv (and head especially, since SOMEONE... *cough* Dabi *cough*... will rarely go down on you). Hawks will take the sloppy seconds. He wants you that bad it doesn’t matter

•Which is when Dabi starts calling him a cuck

•But... nothing some shower sex with Hawks can’t fix if you two wanna be fresh for each other. Sloppy seconds his ass. And Hawks isn’t overly competitive, but this is usually when he wants to really rile you up to as a big “fuck you” to Dabi. Hawks not only makes you moan loud but also tickles you or make funny jokes that’ll have you laughing loud enough for Dabi to hear. Just to prove that he can make you cum and make sure you’re having a good time. What a King

•Dabi does hear it, but rarely gets jealous. He’s just like... ew... disgusting... get that uwu shit away from me

#dabi #hawks #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #bnha imagines

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numbaoneflaya · 3 years

Note

You can count on me to pull up with a thousand of questions sbdhdh. A3, A22, C5, D3, F3 for Jilly ; A18, A23, B9, C1, H2 for Nirn ; A5,B9, C8, D1, I5, for Thurwen ; A9, A13, C1, E8, and G6 for Valkya? 😏

A3, A22, C5, D3, F3 for Jilly ;

A3.Do they have any emotional or psychological conditions? Are they aware of it? Do they try to treat it?

Shawty got that stockholm syndrome in a way. She is…. Sometimes aware of it, though she wouldn't call it that any more. Maybe at first in the basement she was more aware, but now that she can come and go she thinks its a thing of the past. tries not to dwell on it. Kind of in a “well its literally not that bad its kind of fun its kind of romantic were just quirky <3” way, will get mad if someone insists she has stockholm or that the relationship is fucked. Will get enraged and upset on Vincent's behalf, probably cry and yell at you.

A22. Is your OC intended to be found generally attractive? Unattractive? Average? Is there a reason why?

I intended her to be fairly average, maybe kind of cute. It's generally the way she dresses/acts in public that draws attention, not her looks. I tend to make most of my ocs on the average scale besides a select few.

C5. Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?

Good question…. Jillys morals are pretty simple- always be kind and nice, murder and hurting other people is bad, and you shouldnt lie. She sticks to those pretty strictly herself despite the situations she gets put in, often to her own detriment. But she doesn't always put a stop to those behaviors from the people she surrounds herself with, so she's sort of accomplice to bad acts of violence just by not snitching. So somewhat situational? She tries not to think about it.

D3. How comfortable are they with the idea of death?

Not comfortable! She hadn't seen a lot of it before her early twenties and was always sort of sheltered. dead fish are flushed down the toilet bcs they go to the ocean to live again, right? Thought cows and such all died of old age peacefully before they were made into burgers until she was like… twelve. 💀Won't kill mice and other critters despite her prey drive bcs she would feel too bad. And this is just for animal death, she's much more uncomfortable with human death. Also a thing she tries to ignore.

F3. Could they ever live in a “tiny home”?

God no. She hates small spaces unless she's hiding in them and tiny homes have no room for all the shit she stashes! No room for zoomies, or climbing on the furniture, or wrestling around on the floor. It would be filled with junk within a week.

A18, A23, B9, C1, H2 for Nirn ;

A18. Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do?

He's never had much to be jealous of, as he's never really been over involved in romantic relationships. They were usually mutually beneficial and somewhat clinical in nature. Hes also pretty sure of himself and his value as an asset and lover. If he finds someone who peaks his interest and they become an item though, he might get jealous if he catches them flirting with other people. Hell be peeved at first but know flirtation in business has its value, so to make himself feel better might flirt with someone else while they are nearby. Make a game of it, see who wins.

A23. Does your OC place much importance on their appearance? Do they feel confident in it?

Appearances are crucial to him and spends a lot of time and money making sure he looks his best. He needs to appear above the rabble and impenetrable, dressing well and having immaculate posture and an air of both grace and otherworldliness.

B9. What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM…

Definitely not one to find fart jokes funny. Very rarely laughs genuinely or full heartedly, he keeps all his expressions of emotion close to his chest. Sharp sardonic wit is appealing to him in the right circumstances, even a jab directed at himself can make him chuckle if it's well formed enough. Irony almost always gets him, even if its dark irony or gallows humor. Bit of a hard nut to crack. Would laugh enough that hed have to cover his mouth with his hand if he were to see Felix fall face first into mud, though. More often than not you can tell he finds something amusing by a gleam in his eyes and a slight squint.

C1. Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?

Well he used to have a real moral code :/. Now I mean…. The ends justify the means. By any means necessary. He considers his family's needs first, then the good of the world, then any individual in the world. Has ordered executions of entire families, had babies stolen and sent away, sent armies to certain death knowing full well they would all die, commanded individuals be tortured for information, sacrificed many in what he considers to be a game of chess where he is the player and others are the pawns. He finds senseless violence and savagery to be unforgivable, but if violence has a sense and purpose to employ it, then he will do so.

H2. Is your OC a thoughtful partner, in whatever aspect of that you want to cover?

Nirn tends to be a very thoughtful and attentive person in general, just for the wrong reasons lmaoooo. But with a lover? He's going to be utilizing that to show them how much he cares and using his powers for good. Mention you like a certain fabric while shopping one time and then complain your favorite tunic has a wine stain in it several months later, he's going to be taking your measurements for a new one in your preferred material without a moment's notice. Very keen on picking up moods, expressions and tone. Also has a very good memory. He doesn't really think about it but gifts are how he shows his love. Also a great attentive listener.

A5,B9, C8, D1, I5, for Thurwen ;

A5. Are they good at handling change in their life?

I would say so, yeah. Shes been used to things constantly changing since she was little and has had little to no control on outside influences. Shes also not one to over think about the past and lament, shes more of a one foot in front of the other, the only time is the present kind of gal. Of course large changes like becoming a warden were a bit more severe, but shes mostly able to think in the present as long as she has immediate problems to deal with.

B9.What kind of humor does your OC like the most? Slapstick, ironic, funny sounds, scare pranks, xD sO rAnDoM…

Slapstick is always gonna make her laugh as long as nobody gets seriously hurt, even if its her own ass tripping into a tree. Not a fan of scare pranks, 0/10 recommend trying to scare Thurwen. You will end up with a broken nose at best and an angry elf. Likes puns, but she's the one to groan at them and try and hide the grin spreading across her face. Gallows humor but only if its her in the gallows, otherwise doesn't find it funny at all. If a little kid calls someone a fartcicle she will be tears in the eyes giggling, which is hard when your warden commander and everyone looks toward you to be serious and mature gyshsdhdfsghsd.

C8. Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical?

She definitely holds herself to moral ideals and is very hard on herself, but has realistic moral expectations for others. She can understand self serving and people only wanting to survive and she will only give people a little bit of shit for it, no one's perfect. But then she expects herself to be perfect and berates herself constantly for not living up to the hero of ferelden warden commander ideals.

D1. How religious is your OC? What do they practice, if anything? If they don’t associate with any religion, what do they think of religion in general?

Atheist ever since her mom died when she was a kid, but now Shes in a weird mixed state ever since the urn of sacred ashes where shes like. fuck the maker, but Andraste is cool I guess. So respects/believes in the power of Andraste while thinking the maker is a piece of shit and the chantry sucks ass. Even she doesnt know what she really believes, but she did see the ghosts of Andrastes disciples and Shartan, used her ashes as healing salve, killed an old god, etc. So shes been in a weird place recently, crisis of faith/non faith pretty continual.

I5. Are they a good cook?

I mean…. She can cook basics. Shes been feeding herself and the alienage kids since she was old enough to walk so she knows how to get protein and make things edible. Does it taste good? Probably not. She didnt see her first spice till she was 17 years old, but she can skin a rabbit in seven seconds.

LA9, A13, C1, E8, and G6 for Valkya? 😏

A9. Does your OC make a lot of excuses? For themselves? Others?

She tries to excuse bad behavior of herself or others a lot, yeah fgdgdsfhdhs. Mostly she doesnt have to make excuses for herself because she can wholeheartedly be like “yeah i fucked up but whatever im sexy and large and awesome and everyone loves me 🙄whatever baby” and when other people fuck up shes pretty sympathetic even though they are not as large nor as sexy. Shes very used to forgiving and excusing herself its totally alien to her when she really fucks up and is suddenly like wait… valkya…. Did bad?? What is this feeling. Shame?? Guilt?? IMPOSSIBLE.

A13. Does your OC have any phobias? If so, where did they come from?

She hates those giant bugs in morrowind and valenwood a whole fucking lot but I wouldnt exactly place it as a phobia. Those huge mosquitoes and haorvers got no respect but she really hates the morrowind bugs ever since they knocked her over and jumped her while she was pants down peeing drunk as hell in the sand :/ never forgave. Never forgot.

C1. Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?

She was raised in a healthy household that tought the basics, prety much “harming others needlessly, stealing, torture, rape, dessecrating the dead, being selfish and not doing right by others, etc etc all basic bad things” are her morals. Her morality is basically treat others how you want to be treated. And if they treat you badly, then have fun beating the shit out of them to show everyone else not to fuck with you. Its a pretty nordic morality in that way. Her morality is also since she was ‘blessed’ with being so large and strong, that she has to also look out for the little guy who cant protect themselves. So If someone treats them how valkya wouldn't want to be treated, then beat the shit out of the person harming them to show them the little guys got backup. Her parents raised her to be a hero and thats p much how she sees herself, which has its benefits and its fuckin problems.

E8. What’s one of your OC’s biggest regrets?

Fucking up Dem and Dariens relationship for sure dude :/ valkya always gonna be sulking over that one. She doesnt regret becoming a vestige, even though it would have made her so much happier not to be because it ended up saving so many people and the world. She regrets not spending more time with Naryu, regrets always having other life saving business she had to run off to, regrets not cherishing the time they had together. Regrets not telling Lyris how she feels, either. Regrets not being able to save as many people as she should have, regrets she wasnt stronger in coldharbor and didnt break out herself. But she tries not to think about it <3

G6. Do they have any favorite childhood memories?

When she was seven she once spent two months training to hold her breath underwater, because her cousin always held it longer and won the gold bet. She trained for hours almost drowning in the river until she could comfortably hold it for up to three minutes. During the next holiday when they all got together again the competitions were on and they both went under- her cousin won, holding their breath for four more minutes before they decided to come up. This was the first lesson she learned that shocked her world view- you always need to know your opponents capabilities. (after she lost 26 gold in the bets, her mother later had to inform her that her cousin was an argonian.)

#thank u beloved this was good to go thru while in class when i should have been paying attention gfhsdhds #valkya #jilly #nirn #thurwen #the ladies and the gilf #presented without evidence; valkya be stupit kinda :/#HOW DO U DO URS SO FAST... SUPER POWERS

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ddaenggtan · 4 years

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black irises in the sunshine | kth

anger is everything. other gods tease you for the short fuse, but it comes with the territory. people have called you stupid, have called you dumb, oafish, useless, incompetent, insolent, rude, arrogant. all of it. insults and mockery flung at you, but even your skin isn’t thick enough to deal with constant abuse. it’s the exact reason you keep going to the underground, knuckles bloody and bruised, fighting anyone that dared enter the cage. it’s the reason you go to the clubs, surround yourself with mortals and their writhing bodies. it’s there that you see him the first time, voice husky as it rolls through the room. it’s there you find someone who treats you differently than the rest. you just never expected him to be one of the muses. | monsters and gods pt 3 (masterlist)

pairing | taehyung x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, calliope!taehyung, ares!reader, theres a lot of violence and it does get descriptive so be aware of that, none of the main characters other than ares get hurt and its not uncalled for or anything in a narrative sense, so just be aware of that; there are mentions of other idols, but if you can guess them you get a cookie because they are Vague; suuuuper bisexual Ares, Ares Can Step On Me, like I am SO gay for her it isn’t funny; explicit smut ft: cunnilingus, taeHUNG bc hes got MASSIVE SCHLONG, some body worship kind of and then just....regular worship? like? idk how to explain that? lots of praise and lots or orgasms

word count | 14k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | HOOOOOOO this has been sitting in my google docs for literal months waiting for an ending and i decided to try to get it out for tae's birthday bUT that didn't work because i have a Job and shit so YEET I GUESS HAPPY FUCKIN NEW YEAR??? LIKE??? YEEEEEEEEEEEEE this fic is very near to me because Ares is my sweet sad angry babie and i love her, and i love tae and i love suho and i love the muses and i just........lOVE this fic like i think this is currently my favorite of the mag series so!! i hope yall also enjoy it!!!! yall are welcome to send me messages about this even tho I'm terrible at replying to them in a timely manner!! thanks to everyone who helped me with this, and everyone who has expressed interest in it, and everyone who has ever read anything of mine, because you're genuinely the best people ever, and this is literally a gift to y'all because you deserve it.

Fuck, that was too hard .

The guy across from you goes flying, hitting the chain link wall of the cage harder than you intended. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and even holding back, you've got a better buzz than even the best nectar can give. Your blood sings as the guy gets back up, and you almost wish you could remember his name, because he's put up a hell of a fight. For a mortal, anyway.

He charges at you again, and time slows as your vision tunnels. You can see the feint as he decides on it, how he hesitates in bringing his left up. You wait, watching him get closer and closer. You start to dart to your left, letting him think he's got you, before you side-step and dart to your right instead. His punch goes wide as you steady your balance and move. The top of your foot connects with his ribcage and the resulting crack of bone is lost amid the cheers and yells of the audience.

Your opponent steps back and you're proud of the way he doesn't show the pain. He doesn't wince, doesn't move to touch the spot you hit, just tightens his stance and clenches his jaw. It's only you that notices the hitch in his breath, the way he flinches with every inhale. Your eyes narrow at that, zeroing in on the rib. You'd meant to just crack it, had been holding back most of your strength to keep from hurting him too seriously, but as he steps forward, you can see the way he grits his teeth against the pain.

The fight leaves you immediately, like a bucket of cold water straight to the chest, and you drop your hands.

"Yield." He just stares at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yield to me, and then go to the doctor."

"I'm not gonna yield," He says. He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the floor. "I'm not weak."

"Seriously, dude," You insist. "You're not gonna win this, and I don't want to hurt you more."

His scoff has you seeing red. "As if a princess like you could hurt me."

Your fist connects with his face before either of you registers that you've moved. There's a voice in the back of your head reminding you that he's just mortal, he can't take the same kind of beating you can, but it's lost in the haze of fury. The next thing you know, the ref is dragging you away and slamming you into the cage wall. Your opponent is being dragged out - you still don't know his name - and he looks beaten senseless. Victory rolls through you accompanied by a sick satisfaction at the way his blood looks decorating the canvas beneath your feet.

It lasts for less than an hour. It's always like this; the thrill of the fight, the burn of success, it's gone faster than you can blink. It's what drives you to keep fighting, to keep going to match after match, just to seek out the under-the-table stuff afterwards. It's never enough, not anymore. Back in the old days, they'd let you fight anything. Bears, bulls, lions, giants, anything they could get a noose around long enough to point it at a colosseum. That was a long time ago, though, before all the rights movements happened. You won't lie: you miss fighting beasts like that. The sheer power and strength they have, the survival instinct that makes them such fierce competitors, it's so much better than the rules and regulations of the mortal world now. Fights have gotten dull, rehearsed, more like a performance or a show than an actual fight. People make more money losing than they do winning and it's made the world boring.

You flex your hand as you open the door to your favorite bar. Something caught it at some point in the last fight, a cheekbone or a tooth, and it stings a little. Doesn't hurt, not exactly, not for a goddess, but it did enough that you feel it at all, which means it couldn't have been anything but torture for the guy on the other end. The bartender waves at you and gets your usual ready as you sit, and you idly wonder if Busted Rib Guy will be okay. It looked painful, for a human, and you'd tried to hold back, but…

Well, you weren't really responsible for what happened to condescending little fucks, were you?

You sip the bourbon, enjoying the burn as it goes down. The lights are dim, tonight. You're glad. You don't want to deal with people looking at you, men coming over to talk to you, trying to advise you on how to properly bandage your knuckles or how to avoid the bruise on your cheek next time. If you had wanted to avoid it, you would have. You'd intended it to hurt worse, honestly, but that first guy'd had a weaker right hook than you expected.

You look around, wondering if anyone here would provide a decent distraction for the night. There's a pretty brunette in the corner with carefully crafted braids, and as your eyes travel, you imagine what's hiding beneath the silk and leather. You're pulled from the thought by the sound of music, and you curse under your breath. You forgot that it's an open mic night and you'd meant to go to the bar across town instead. Irritation colors your vision; every open mic night is awful, full of lofty poets talking about their trauma and wannabe Taylor Swifts thinking they're on the same level as Sappho. Ah, now that was a girl with a set of pipes. You miss her, wonder what she would say to the butchering of whatever song you're about to hear.

The voice that comes isn't what you expect. It's smooth and deep. The world turns to velvet around you as the voice wanders from one speaker to another, creating a mesmerizing multi-dimensional effect despite the way the singer doesn't ever leave the stage. You turn, knuckles white around your bourbon glass; he's utterly magnetic, every eye in the room trained on him as he purrs into the vintage mic. Long fingers are wrapped around the scuffed metal, decorated with jewels that glitter in the dim light of the bar. You can smell the lingering cigarette smoke from the guy beside you and the Jäger from the girl two stools down and for once, you don't even care. He's captivating, voice travelling between speakers in the bar and coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Your eyes don't leave him, and you wonder if you can memorize the way the blond waves fall against his forehead if you stare long enough.

The red seeps away from you, slinking back into the corners of your mind, settling once more into a low thrum under your skin. It fades into the background of this man's voice, the charisma that rolls off him in waves as he pulls the mic in close just to push it to the side with a teasing smirk. It settles something in your chest that hasn't been calm since the fight in Athens so long ago.

The music fades out sooner than you'd like, and he gives a slight bow before wandering into the crowd. You do your best to follow him, but the gold of his hair disappears almost immediately, lost in the throng of people around the stage waiting to speak to him. You turn back around, downing the next bit of bourbon that Suho pours you.

"I know," He says with a grin. You cock a brow at him, not having said anything he could agree with. "He's good. That's what you were thinking, right? He's why we're so packed on open mics. Got the audio and lighting guy whipped, so he's got all these special effects, too. Drives people crazy.”

"He's alright," You mutter. You toss a few bills down on the bartop and step back. Suho gives you a courteous nod as you leave. The bouncer gives you a dirty look when he spots the lit cigarette between your lips, but he knows better than to try to tell you otherwise. You've taught him better.

You lean back against the brick wall of the alley and take a drag. The warm smoke fills your lungs and you close your eyes. It's a different kind of burn than you're used to, a distraction from the crawling sensation that drives you to fight. It's calmer, more controlled. Feels like the smoke from Hestia's fires. Feels like home.

"Never expected to see you here," A voice calls out. It's deep and startling in the darkness, but you don't jump. You just open your eyes, exhale, and look to where it came from.

The singer stands before you in the same undone white button up and black tee he performed in. He doesn't have a cig, doesn't seem to have much of any reason to be outside. He moves almost lazily, as if he doesn't even need to, just wants to, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your vision fills just for a breath with every opponent you've ever faced lying at your feet.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them. It's not his fault, the voice in your head says, he didn't mean it that way, but still, your blood is thrumming now that he's here and you want to know what he's talking about. Want to know why he thinks you wouldn't be here when there's attractive people and good bourbon and you've never seen this man before in your life. Want to know why he already seems to think you aren't civilized enough to be at a bar, why he spoke but all you heard was Zeus' voice in your memories.

"Exactly what I said. Should I be clearer?"

"Yeah, probably," you spit. Yet another person that assumes you're stupid, that you don't understand basic languages, as if you haven't been speaking them since the ancient times. As if you couldn't speak circles around him if you wanted. "Unless you want your teeth on the fucking ground."

"Good to know the stories are true." He tsks and you're filled with a strange sense of disappointment and fury, both at him and yourself. Your vision turns red at the edges and the cigarette between your fingers is crushed in your grip. He pays no mind to it, just saunters past with a lazy, swaying gait that draws your eyes to his hips and then down the long leather-clad legs. "See you around, Ares."

"That's not my fucking name," You yell after him. He doesn't respond when you shout your actual name, the one you chose, on your own, as a middle finger to the Olympians. "Get it right next time, dickwad."

He turns the corner of the alley and the streetlight catches his face just enough for you to see the smirk he wears. For once in your life, you're torn; you want to smash his face in, yes, because how dare this random guy speak to you like that when you could kill him with one finger to the right pressure point. You also find your skin's hotter than usual, stretched too thin over your bones, and you want him to run his hands over you until it feels right again.

Until it feels like it did when he was singing.

How did he know my title?

The thought comes unbidden, days later, with the desperate hit of a palm against your shoulder. You've got the woman in a headlock, patiently waiting for her to pass out completely so the fight can be called, and your mind is wandering.

How did the singer know who you are? You hadn't thought anything of it at the time, distracted by fury and frustration, but with time comes a special kind of clarity. You've never seen him before, not that you know anyway, yet he didn't hesitate to call you Ares. The only ones who know of your kind are your kind, but you haven't seen any of your siblings among mortals in a long time. You thought you knew the other gods and goddesses, but maybe not. It has been a while since you stepped foot in the golden city.

The woman in your grip goes slack and you release her. You're still lost in thought as the ref calls the match and leads you out of the makeshift ring. The cheers of the audience are background noise at this point, akin to static or the buzz of electricity, and you pay them no mind as you head to collect your winnings. You didn't even get any kind of buzz from success this time, too immersed in the way the singer walked and talked and looked. The image of his smirk is burned into your retinas.

"Yeah, you didn't hear? He just got out of the hospital. They had to keep him overnight because they thought he might puncture a lung. I heard that if it had been a little worse, they would've had to wire his jaw shut." You stop, fingers brushing over the stack of bills you don't even remember being handed. You look up, making eye contact with the guy whispering nearby. Your suspicions are confirmed when his friend smacks his arm and juts his chin in your direction before they both disappear into the crowd.

You shove your way outside, frustration creeping through you and coloring your vision. You manage to keep it contained long enough for you to make it to the alley behind the warehouse, but it explodes from you in a rush of thrown dumpsters and sheet metal.

Fuck , you never meant to hurt him like that. You told him, you fucking told him to yield, it isn't your fault he didn't listen. It's not your fault that he went and insulted you, acted like he was better than you just by virtue of being a dude, as if you weren't worshipped in the old days for the power you had and the blessings you could give. You'd held back, through all of it, you'd told him to yield, and he insulted you. It wasn't your fault.

You slide to the ground, running a shaking hand through your hair. It isn't your fault , you repeat. You close your eyes and take deep breaths, the way Hestia taught you, willing the fury to dissipate. It's like a fire in your veins, burning and bubbling your skin until you can't resist anymore. You take another breath. It isn't your fault. You tried. You offered an out. It isn't your fault. Fuck, what was his name?

With a growl that quickly morphs into a scream, you kick the dumpster once more before stalking off into the darkness. You need a fucking drink and you're gonna find a distraction in someone else if it's the last thing you do.

The club is packed when you get there; you're not usually a fan of clubs like this, too full of people who are too friendly, but they're perfect for nights like tonight. You don't even need to wait in line, just slip the bouncer a 50 as you pass, and the bartenders are quick to spot you. You're pretty notorious in the city for over-paying, which means you're knocking back bourbon before you have a chance to ask for it. There are people everywhere, pressed up against both sides of you while the bass thrums in your throat, and it takes you longer than you're proud of to realize why.

There's a band playing, apparently. They're not bad; the vocalist isn't anything like the singer from Suho's, but it doesn't make you want to tear your ears off, so you consider it a success.

You're dancing before you remember deciding to. Everything's a blur when you get the itch in your bones, the need to make someone bleed. To feel something that isn't rage or condescension. People are even closer here on the dance floor, suffocating in their proximity, but there's a woman grinding her ass into you, and it sparks the dying fire in your gut. The beat of the music drowns your own heart, and it's all flashing lights and heat and a body pressed against yours that is all too willing.

She follows when you go back to the bar for another drink, and giggles when you lick salt from her wrist before downing tequila. Her hands are wrapped in the leather of your jacket as she kisses you, your own resting lightly on her hips. She laughs against your lips and says something you don't hear before ordering another drink. Something makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You take the brief reprieve to look around the club, searching for whatever it is that has you on alert. You find him on the upper level of the club, leaned over the balcony with a drink in hand. You can't make out his expression, exactly; it's too far away and too guarded. But you'd know him anywhere now. The singer knocks back whatever's in his glass, eyes never leaving yours. You don't know why he's here, if he comes here often or if the Fates are having a laugh at your expense, but you do know you want to make the most of it.

The girl is back, pressing a heated kiss to your lips and drawing your attention from him. You return it, nipping at her lips and getting a small gasp in return. You smirk and bite your way down her neck. She's breathy in your ear, hitched moans lost in the beat of the music, but you barely hear her as you suck bruises into the skin of her neck. He's still watching you. His drink is gone and he's gripping the bannister of the balcony, rings glinting in the light. You wonder if the cool metal could soothe the burn in your bones. You want to know if he can bring that calmness from before back, if he can soothe the frenzy in your mind with his hands the way he can with his voice. Just imagining it has you soaking through to your jeans.

The girl makes a particularly loud noise in your ear and you're brought out of your thoughts. As if he can sense it, the singer straightens. He gives you one last look before disappearing back into the crowd, and you wonder if you're imagining the disdain in it. You draw back from the girl's neck, about to tell her to find her friends when she slides her hands in your hair and tugs.

The burn in your blood is back, now, and you hope this girl is prepared for what awaits her.

"You're here early," Suho says when he spots you in the nearly empty bar the next night. He's not wrong, either; you skipped the fights tonight completely. There was no buzz last time, no relief, and you have no reason to believe there would be tonight. Not with the way the singer captivates your thoughts.

Besides, you have enough money leftover from the previous few to last a couple days.

"What, did you decide not to kick someone's ass before getting wasted?" Suho doesn't wither at the look you give him, just pours you a couple fingers of bourbon and slides the glass over. "Or did they just stop letting you in completely?"

"I might change my mind if you don't shut up," You tell him. There's no real heat behind it. You've known Suho for years now, been coming to his bar for so long it almost feels like home. You're almost friends at this point.

It helps that he knows when to bite his tongue so he doesn't get his teeth knocked out.

"Seriously though, I don't think I've ever seen you here this early. Especially not on mic nights." You're very careful in your lack of a reaction to his words. You'd seen the workers setting up for it when you came in, and even if you hadn't, you know when mic night is. You've spent enough time avoiding it.

"Does he sing every time?" You ask in lieu of an explanation. You don't look away from the amber liquid in your glass, letting the silence hang as the bartender does his best to follow your thought process.

"Taehyung? Most weeks, yeah. It's been a nice change from the usual drunken karaoke. He goes around to some of the other places in town, too. Apparently he just likes to sing."

"Taehyung," You repeat. The name rolls from your tongue a bit awkwardly. It's more than you expected, somehow, but you can't place exactly how . Just...more. "Is he always that good?"

"Oh, yeah. We have regulars now for mic night because of him. He's got a whole fan club and everything."

"Hm." You drain the rest of your bourbon and Suho refills it. He leaves you in peace then, serving some others that appear at the bar.

The place fills faster than you can blink. That's what it feels like, anyway. It's like one moment there's you and a handful of other people scattered around, and now you're being jostled between some dude a million feet tall that definitely doesn't look old enough to be here and a girl with her tits up to her throat and surrounded by a cloud of perfume so thick that it starts a migraine behind your eyes almost instantly. She flirts with Suho a little, likely trying to score free drinks, and you roll your eyes. She pouts at him when he gives her the total, batting eyelashes that go on for miles, and for once, you wish Suho would just give in and comp the drinks.

"I'll pay for them," You say. She was definitely saying something, maybe you should have been paying attention to it, but fuck , this migraine is only getting worse the longer she stands there. "I'll pay for your drinks."

"Oh, thanks," She says. Her smile is hesitant, and quickly turns apologetic as she takes in the boots and the ripped jeans and the leather jacket. "Um, I'm not...I don't, uh…"

"Do I look like I want to fuck you, sweetie?" She looks a little affronted and a laugh escapes you. You lean closer, letting your breath ghost over her cheek as you speak in her ear to be heard better. "If I wanted to fuck you senseless, you'd know it. And I can guarantee you it would be a hell of a lot better than the watered down rat piss this guy's giving you."

When you lean back, her face is flushed and she's stammering. You smirk and hand her the drinks she'd ordered.

"Too bad you’re not, you don’t, huh?" You tell her. The patronizing tone isn't lost on her, nor is your mockery of her earlier words, and she shuts her mouth with an audible click before strutting off. Suho glares at you as he pours more bourbon.

"Can you please try not to run off my patrons?" He mutters. "Some of us actually need money to live."

"Some of us would like decently timed refills and to not choke on perfume," You quip. "And better bourbon, for that matter." He hisses something about what he's giving you being top quality but you tune him out, throwing one leg over the stool Perfume Girl vacated. You'd like to keep just a little bit of personal space.

Across the bar, you catch a brief glimpse of the girl from the night before and you wince. Her neck is thoroughly bruised, and you catch a peek of bruises and scratches on her back as she shrugs her jacket on. You didn’t mean to be so rough with her, even if she had been into it; you’re usually pretty good about remembering that the mortals are just that - mortal - and as such have to be handled delicately. They’re so fragile, it feels like they could break with a strong wind. Guilt settles in your gut and turns the bourbon in your glass to cough syrup. You’ve half a mind to just leave before she sees you, are about to turn and do exactly that, but the speakers screech to life and the deafening feedback from the mic keeps you glued to your seat.

The crowd quiets even as the excitement ramps up, all talk silencing but for the occasional hushed whispers here and there. The first few notes of the song echo through the speakers, and a spotlight appears on him.

He looks different this time, his hair dyed a vibrant blue that matches the glinting jewels in his ears and on his hands. He's an absolute vision and you wonder how Aphrodite has allowed him to live so long when he's so beautiful. His voice hangs in the air and calms you, the same settling in your chest as last time, the same freedom from the burn in your veins. It's addictive.

The song doesn't last nearly as long as you want it to but the stillness inside you lingers long after he's done caressing the microphone. You place a few bills down for Suho and light up a cigarette as you head outside, ignoring the dirty looks from other patrons as you do. You're on a mission, the thrum of bloodlust returning with every second that passes, and you can't even be sure if he's still around or if he's wandered off already.

You stand in the alley for what feels like hours, turning at every sound and smoking cig after cig just so you have something to do. You've almost decided to say fuck it when footsteps sound from the back of the bar, coming closer to you.

His blue hair is visible even from the other end of the small alley, a giveaway similar to the light at the end of your cigarette and the smoke you blow into the air. There's no way he hasn't seen you, you think, you're making no effort to hide or be sneaky, and yet he's continuing forward as if he doesn't see you at all, eyes focused on a phone in his hand. You wait until he's just a few steps away before speaking.

"How do you know my title?" You ask him. He stops as if he'd always meant to and doesn't even bother to glance up at you or respond. The edges of your vision turn scarlet at the blatant disregard and you're speaking before you can even process the words. "I asked you a fucking question, pretty boy, you're gonna answer me. Unless you want that precious mouth bloodied up."

"And you wonder how I know who you are," He drawls, still not bothering to spare a glance at you. A scowl grows over your face at his sarcastic tone. "If you're going to hit me just get it over with. Otherwise, I have places to be."

He stands, waiting and expectant, but you don't move. He's humming, quiet and to himself like he doesn't even realize he's doing it, and the red seeps away from your mind until you're left clear-headed once more. You sigh, long and heavy, and crush your cigarette into your denim-covered thigh to put it out. It tickles.

"I'm not going to hit you," You tell him eventually. "I just wanna know how you know me. And how you do it."

He cocks a brow at that, finally looking up from the phone in his hand to level dark eyes on yours. "Do what? Sing?"

"No." You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. The words are harder to find than you thought they'd be, lost in the depths of his gaze, in the clarity you're so unaccustomed to, in the way you feel like you can breathe for the first time in days. "I don't care how you sing, that's not important, it's the...fuck, you know what, never mind, it doesn't fucking matter." You push off the wall and step past him to head towards where the streetlight gleams off the bar windows.

"Tell me." The command has you stopping in your tracks, and you're again flooded with just wanting to know how. How he clears the haze, how he stops you, how he makes you feel real. You turn, hands stuffed into the back pockets of your jeans. "How I do what?"

It takes you several long breaths before you can answer, and you aren't even sure he can hear you over the sounds of people leaving the bar, and you find yourself disappearing into the crowd without waiting for a response. Your own words are reverberating in your skull, getting louder with each step you take, and you wish you could just turn it off .

"How you make me feel like a person again."

You avoid the bar for a few weeks, going hours away from your usual area to an unfamiliar hole in the wall just to make sure you don’t see him. You’re more deadly than usual in your fights, victories coming quicker, injuries piling up along with the guilt, but you can’t bring yourself to return. It’s unnerving, the way everything goes quiet around him, the way you can think, but the worst is the way you can feel. Everything’s calm and steady and blue, and it only makes it easier for the regret and the guilt and the anxiety to curl around your throat and squeeze until you can’t breathe, to clog in your throat while the laughter of your siblings echoes in your ears, and you...can’t. You can’t do that, you can’t let it win, you can’t let them win, they can’t know that you’re everything they think you are and worse.

You can’t let yourself drown in that, and yet you find yourself back at Suho’s, lost among the crowd while Taehyung’s voice surrounds you. The ache in your bones fades away, chased by the thrum of the fight that still lingers despite the hours that have passed since you felt your opponent’s femur break under your palm and their screams echoed in your ears. Everything is calm again, and the guilt nearly drowns you.

He hasn’t even finished singing before you’re outside, chest heaving as you gasp against the weight on your chest. You broke someone’s femur , and did you even really need to? The fight itself is a blur even now, snapshots playing through your mind like a montage. The way they’d darted at you first, how their foot felt connecting with the backs of your knees, the determination in their eyes when you went down, the jolt of shock as your hands wrapped around their leg, the dull throb of a barrage of hits against your waist as you pulled them down as well and bloodied their face, the blood-curdling scream as you snapped the bone like a pretzel stick.

Your breath comes faster in your lungs, forced out by the growing guilt that lodges there in its place. Images swirl in your mind, chased by a never-ending stream of thought and regret that you should be used to by now. Fuck, you didn’t need to, and you still did it; you lost control, you fucking hurt them, and for what? A couple hundred? Was it even worth it? Who knew when they’d be back into shape to fight, what if they needed the money? They weren’t even half-bad. They got you down, at least, shouldn’t you have gone easy on them? You don’t even remember their face, can’t remember what the announcer said their name was, words drowned out by the buzz under your skin.

Metal crumples under your grip and you spare a half-second to mourn Suho’s dumpster before you slam your knuckles against it. It tingles, not even real pain, and you don’t hesitate to repeat it. By the time the metal is disfigured completely, a distorted mess of paint and steel and garbage, you still aren’t in pain, but there’s a sheen of gold across your knuckles and you feel less like you’re drowning and more like you’re suffocating. The usual. You can handle that. You think.

You don’t even realize that you’ve slid down to the ground beside the dumpster until the back door of the bar opens and footsteps echo through the alley. You wish you knew how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve sat among empty bottles and stale beer and broken glass, but you can’t be sure. The brief reprieve brought by Taehyung’s voice is long gone, chased away by the guilt and rage that still sits heavy in your chest. You hope you’re not noticeable here, that whoever’s left will just pass by and leave you to piece yourself back together on your own.

Voices tell you that it isn’t likely, the deep baritone of one too familiar to ignore. The other is new, but you’re familiar with the tone, the inflection, the intent behind it. You've heard it before, in crowded clubs as a guy pushes too close to some girl who can barely stand, in a coffeeshop when a random customer can't take a fucking hint, at the local campus when some professor insists that there could be maybe one thing her student could do to pass. It makes everything in you curdle, the bourbon from earlier threatening to work its way back up; it screams predator , and you absolutely refuse to let anyone fucking talk to someone like that, like they have some right to whatever it is they want.

You refuse to let someone talk to him that way.

"Seriously, Kratos, didn't I tell you to leave me alone? Did Aphrodite not teach you your lesson last time you harassed someone?" Taehyung's voice brings a calm that's an unsettling match to the anger washing over you. You're used to the red at the corners of your vision, the tint to everything you see, but you aren ' t used to the way it all turns purple and focused and clear .

There's no haze this time, there's no abrupt shift of you moving before you know you've done it. You can feel the glass crunching under your boots with every step you take, can feel the way the air has a chill that creeps down into your lungs with every breath, can almost taste the apprehension that's rolling off of Taehyung despite his relaxed stance. The only thing that gives him away is the tense set of his jaw and the mix of relief and fear when his eyes land on you.

"I'm pretty sure he said no, Kratos." The god turns at your voice and you watch the realization wash over him as he realizes what - who - you are.

"Been a while since anyone's seen you, Ares." He scoffs a little, not moving from where he has Taehyung caged against the wall of the bar, one hand pressed firmly into the brick. He's entirely too close, and you have no doubt that the stench of him permeates the very oxygen around them.

"Been busy. Doesn't change the fact that the man said no. Take the loss, walk away." Kratos' eyes narrow at your words and he steps away, but only to move closer to you.

"Why do you care so much? You've never been one to care about any of us before." Kratos inches closer and the hyper-focus that Taehyung's voice causes starts to melt away with every twitch of your fingers. You've never liked Kratos, all brute strength with no respect for the challenge, no appreciation of the fight, too focused on sheer power and exhilaration. He is the worst of the worst of the worst of your kind, of all the war-focused gods. Every bit of yourself you hate is every piece that Kratos loves about himself.

"I care that you don't seem to be able to understand when someone doesn't want to be around you, you absolute piece of filth. Taehyung had a point though, I really thought the whole thing with Aphrodite would've taught you how to back off. Or should I pull the video out, I think I still have it saved for when I need a good laugh." Malice and fury twitch across the other god's face and you absolute revel in it. You can feel his anger prickling across you, like needles in your very pores, and you ache for it. It's been so long since you last had a good fight, a real challenge where you didn't need to hold back at all.

Too long since you fought a god like yourself.

"You're testing my patience, cousin," Kratos spits. It's a little generous to call the two of you cousins - you're several times removed, at best, and potentially closer than that with your family's warped history - but you let him have it. It might make him feel better. "I'm having a conversation, that's all. And if said conversation means that we end up back at my place, then, well, can anyone really blame me for what might happen to this pretty little m-"

Your fist connects with his jaw immediately and the red floods you for the few seconds it takes to register Taehyung calling your name. The calm struggles for a second, warring with the rage, but it wins out eventually. The singer's talking, but you can't make out any actual words. You're too focused on Kratos, the way he's righting and readying himself for a brawl. There's a fire in his eyes that matches the one in yours and everything in you feels alive for the first time in too long.

This fight is different than your usual ones. There's no blur, no warped sense of time that usually comes with the adrenaline. You're focused and controlled in a way you haven't had to be for centuries, careful and precise and deliberate with every swing and every kick. The red seeps back in slowly and every time you think you're about to lose it, you hear Taehyung, still pressed against the wall of the bar.

Kratos lunges at you for what has to be the tenth time, clearly trying his best to knock you to the ground - he succeeded, once; you let yourself get distracted, too caught up in thoughts, but it didn't last long - and you sidestep him just in time for him to ram into the ruined dumpster instead. He looks pissed when he turns back around and something in you sings at the sight. He makes for you again and you dodge again, only to be dragged back towards him by the grip he has on your jacket. Fuck, should've taken that off , whatever, he's too close.

Pain explodes in your side and you're fairly sure he's busted part of your rib, but you just slide your arms out of the sleeves and twist to plant your knee straight into his gut and then slam your heel down onto his much-less-safe toes, and then back up to knee him in the groin. It's nowhere near enough to take him out, but his nose is oozing golden ichor and he groans with every shift of his weight, and you've got him pinned against the wall with your forearm pressing hard into his windpipe.

"Now, you're gonna listen to me you steaming pile of dog shit," You hiss. "When someone tells you no, it's not a fucking negotiation. It means you fucking leave and find someone with loose enough morals or enough internalized self-hatred that they're willing to subject themselves to your absolutely pitiful fucking excuse of an existence for the thirty-two seconds it'll take for you to get off."

Kratos doesn't respond, just sneers and spits blood at you. It's a miracle you don't actually try to rip his head from his body, because the thought crosses your mind for a second too long. Instead, you just press harder against his windpipe and enjoy the choked gasp that it draws.

"You don't stalk people either, the way you did with 'Dite. Don't you know it's better to let them come to you sometimes?" You tsk, ignoring the way he claws uselessly at your arm. Gods may not need to breathe, that's a fact, but they feel pain, and there is no way this isn't absolutely excruciating for him when even you can feel the small bones in his neck cracking and breaking. "And if I hear even a whisper of you pulling shit like this again, then I'm gonna find you, you pigshit. And when I do, I won't hold back even the slightest, and do you know what comes after that?"

His eyes are full of fear now, and only grow wide with terror as you lean in close enough that he can feel your lips against his ear as you whisper.

"You are going to wish that you could die."

When you do release him, he disappears instantly, with a cloud of acrid grey-green smoke curling around your ichor-spattered boots. He's only been gone a second when you slump, the adrenaline fading as quick as Kratos had left. Your side is throbbing now, your knuckles are bruised and broken and gold, there's a pain in your leg that you aren't sure what's causing, your head is screaming even through the high of the fight, your face stings in the crisp-cool air. Every breath makes the pain worse so you stop breathing. The brick wall of the bar is rough against your palms, but it's the only thing around that can keep you upright, so you'll take it.

"Well," a voice drawls from your left. You'd jump if you had anything left in you, but every ounce of energy is gone, spent teaching Kratos what Aretha Franklin meant when she sang about respect - and really, there was another fantastic singer, you really should visit her sometime soon - so instead your head lolls to the side. You aren't sure what it is that jolts through you when your eyes land on Taehyung, fingers curled carefully around the collar of-

Your jacket. That's your leather jacket. You barely remembers shrugging out of it, but you're glad it's not on the ground, trampled and covered in the gold spatters that decorate the rest of your body.

"Well?" You echo, wincing at the pain it causes. You've definitely got a busted lip, that's for sure from the way it feels different and swollen, and you're pretty sure there's a head wound, too, because you don't remember there being a golden halo around Taehyung before the fight.

"Well," He repeats, slinging the jacket - your jacket - over a shoulder. "You should get that looked at." He starts walking, making his way to the entrance of the alleyway. He gets halfway there before he stops and turns and cocks a brow. "Are you coming, or do I get to keep this?" Your jacket waves a little, as if he's wiggling it, and it makes you feel like a stray dog being lured off with treats.

You're never going to tell anyone that it works.

Taehyung's place is as nondescript as the car he parks outside. It's a plain apartment building on the outside - looks like maybe it was a hotel back in the 1930s, based on the outdated carpeting in the lobby and the grate on the elevator he steps into. Even the hallway is plain and unassuming as he leads you to the end and uses an old, tarnished brass key on an older, more tarnished brass knob. You aren't sure what you expected, you can't even begin to guess what Taehyung is like outside of the dirty alley or the stage where he sings, can't fathom what kind of decor he could possibly have.

What you step into isn't anything you could have guessed. It looks like he has the entire rest of the floor to himself based on what you can see, but there's also a spiral staircase tucked into a corner, bookshelves built in under each step that are filled to the brim, and a fireman's pole in another corner, so there's at least one more level above this, but something tells you both the staircase and the pole continue past that. There's artwork everywhere, pieces you recognize and pieces you don't, several van Goghs and a couple from Matisse and you think in the corner you spot an actual fucking da Vinci sketch that's supposed to be somewhere in Europe. There's a gramophone beside a top-of-the-line sound system, an entire wall that's just a record collection, books upon books, framed bits of poetry - including an actual hand-written rupi kaur, a signed Maya Angelou print, and a signed cover of ain't i a woman by bell hooks that you would die to know how Taehyung got his hands on. It's a museum's wet dream and yet it retains a lived in atmosphere. There are mugs left on tables, blankets strewn about as if someone just got up from a nap, an easel propped up by a far window with what looks like an impressionist painting of the cityscape, books tossed down half-read with receipts and coupons and candy wrappers and everything but a bookmark tucked between the pages.

It feels like a home and it makes your heart flutter in your chest at the same time that something in your stomach shrivels up into itself.

Taehyung walks like he’s meant to be followed, so follow you do. You spy another man - older, you think, but it’s hard to tell, really - sprawled across a couch, blanket splayed across his lap as he watches some kind of dance show on a flatscreen hung above a warm and roaring fireplace, a couple of girls in what looks to be the kitchen, one sitting on the counter while the other stands between her legs and pretends not to notice the former stealing strawberries from her bowl as she taps at her tablet, and there are footsteps creaking above you, hidden behind walls even as Taehyung leads you up the staircase. They all look up when you pass, but only the man gives you a second glance; his eyes are a weight on your back that doesn’t leave until you’re upstairs and following Taehyung into a large, rather nice bathroom.

It’s vintage as well, but it’s spacious and well-kept, like the rest of the place. Taehyung pats the marble counter by the sink and you bite your tongue against the urge to tell him you aren’t a dog. You don’t move though, instead watching him as he lays your jacket across a brass bar on the wall and then digs around in a cabinet for a minute or two. When he straightens up, he’s got a somewhat dusty off-white box in his hands, and he frowns.

“Up,” He says. “I need to look at your ankle.”

You don’t move, but you can tell he doesn’t miss the twitch of your nose at the thought of being commanded like an animal. Like someone who can’t understand. Like-

He sighs.

“Please, will you sit on the counter, so I can look at your ankle?” You huff, but you do as he says.

He doesn’t speak as he works, completely silent except for the odd command - “Roll it for me...alright, now flex that...deep breath...stop fidgeting or I’ll only make it worse…” - and the occasional hum under his breath. It seems to be second nature, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and it endears you more than you’d like. His touch is gentle but firm as he lightly squeezes your ankle and wraps it, lifts your pant leg to rub some kind of cream into a somewhat worrisome golden bruise forming on your calf, darts under your shirt to quickly and painlessly set your ribs before wrapping those as well. He doesn’t say anything at all until he’s almost finished with the cuts on your hands, golden ichor long gone and wounds already on their way to healing thanks to some sort of mist he spritzes on them.

It only stings once, as he’s spraying something over some kind of cut on your thigh where Kratos ripped through the denim there without you noticing. You can’t stop the hiss as the pain hits, though you regret it when he glances up at you.

“Sorry,” He mumbles under his breath as he dabs lightly at it with his long fingers.

“It’s fine,” You tell him. “I’m used to it.” Your voice is rough, always, but softer than usual. You don’t know why. You can’t decide if you like it.

The entire time he works, you wait. For him to tell you it wasn’t necessary, that he can fight his own battles, that he’s not surprised a brute like yourself got into a fight, that you’re no more than what the rumours say you are. You’ve got a million different curses and insults ready to spit back at him when he finally speaks.

“Thank you,” is what comes. It shocks the words out of your mouth, and you actually look up from where you’ve been watching him methodically wipe gold away from a scrape on your forearm. His gaze is concentrated on the injury and his lips are pursed and you wish you could figure him out.

He must take your silence for the confusion it is, because he continues.

“I mean it,” He says. “I’m usually not someone that lets other people fight for me, but we both know that I couldn’t have taken Kratos. He’s too strong, and he was counting on that. Until you showed up.” You don’t respond. “Is there a reason you left before my set was done? Or why you were sitting in an alley beside what is possibly the most gnarled dumpster I’ve ever seen?”

You don’t answer him, instead focusing on the way his hands feel as they tilt your chin so he can look at the cuts and bruises and scrapes that decorate your face. You focus your gaze just past his shoulder, content to memorize the pattern of his gaudy vintage bathroom wallpaper, and he doesn't press for more. The distracted humming picks up again every time he stops talking, and eases the storm of guilt shame rage pain hurt grief loneliness in your chest.

"I fight," you eventually say. Your voice is too loud in the quiet of the bathroom, shatters the silence like a sledgehammer, and you hate the way it trembles. Still, Taehyung doesn't look away from where he's carefully wiping gold from your skin, just cocks a brow, and it's as if a dam breaks in your throat. "Like, real fights. Actual competition, with rules and shit, and...sometimes the bad ones, because they tend to fight differently, it's a different kind of fight, y'know, and it's never really fair, because I'm...I'm me, but I hold back, just for fun, y'know, and it's, uh. It's alright usually, I go in, do my thing, I win, I go drink, and it all gets, I dunno, easier, maybe, for a while, like I can think right, but, um.”

You hesitate for a split second and force yourself to focus on the way the alcohol-soaked cotton tickles the cut on your head.

“Sometimes it's not...sometimes I can't control it as well, the anger, and I kind of just lose it on people, and a while ago this guy, he almost needed his jaw wired shut, but he was kind of a prick anyway, I guess, so whatever, but, uh, today, I...there was this girl and she was doing really well, actually, y'know, managed to get me down to the mat, which is rare and pretty impressive, and I'm pretty proud of her for it now, but then, I just. I just kinda lost it, like, I just kept swinging, I couldn't stop, and then I just...I broke her leg, for no real reason, just because I wanted her to hurt, and I don't...I'm not sure why I even did it, because I'd already won, right, like what was the point of doing any more, it wasn't even helping at that point, y'know, it's not like the buzz kept up any longer because I broke this kid's leg, and I love the fights, they help clear my head for a second, but I never wanted to actually-"

You words stop short, like there are too many of them to say in too short a time, and it's then you realize Taehyung's hands are in his lap and he's looking at you fully. His expression isn't neutral anymore, it's not the carefully crafted mask of a performer, it's real and open and genuine and all you see there is pain . For you. Pain and understanding and compassion you never expected to find anywhere but the deepest corners of your soul. Looking at him looking at you like that makes you feel like you can breathe again.

"You never wanted to hurt anyone." His voice is rough, like maybe there's emotion clogging his throat as well, and you aren't sure what that does to you, but something in you jumps at the thought.

Tears mar your vision as you nod and you curse under your breath before wiping them away. He catches your quivering hand in his and just holds it for a second. His eyes don't leave yours and there are a thousand things you expect him to say but what he says is:

"I believe you."

And that...it's more than you can take, and you break, right there on his bathroom counter, sobbing into his chest while he just rubs your back and hums and you remember the face of every person you've ever hurt and the look in their eyes as you left some of them for dead.

You wake up the next morning curled up on the most comfortable chaise lounge in human history, sitting up and shoving the blanket off of you in a rush before you remember where you are, why you're there. A glance around tells you that you aren't alone; there's two guys bent over a table that you think might also be a tablet, conversing quietly and pointing every so often at whatever they're looking at, a girl balanced along the edge of the staircase holding a lyre - which, wow, you haven't seen a lyre in that good condition in a while - and strumming lightly along it before she frowns and shakes her head and restarts whatever melody she's playing, and the same guy sprawled over the couch with a blanket strewn haphazardly over him while he watches a different dance video on the flatscreen. He's the closest and you don't really want to talk to any of these people but you think you might have to because you aren't really sure how Taehyung got you here last night but you know it was quite a drive. You'd just mist over to the bar if you really wanted to, but your ribs hurt like a bitch still thanks to that fucker Kratos. Anything as intense as misting is out of the question for the time being.

The man on the chaise spares you a glance that feels longer than it should, full of a judgement you have no doubt you deserve and yet somehow fires your anger anyway.

He rolls his eyes before you even say anything and waves a hand towards the kitchen. You snap your mouth closed and shoot him an irritated look, but you storm in that direction anyway. Healing is exhausting, and you want nothing more than some meat to tear into and a cold beer.

When you get into the kitchen, however, Taehyung is standing there already, as if he’s been expecting you any minute. There’s a plate in front of him, full of food you barely recognize, and he slides it towards you.

“Eat,” He says. You grit your teeth, unmoving, and he sighs again. “Please sit, and eat. You need the strength to heal properly.”

You resist for a split second, but there’s a softness to him now. Something you can’t exactly put your finger on, but that you know is different , somehow, and it changes things. It makes you want to listen, to do as he asks, because he is asking . He’s not telling, he’s treating you like an animal.

It’s a request, not a demand, and that makes all the difference.

Taehyung is quiet while you eat. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t watch to make sure you’re doing it, but you have no doubt he’s keeping an eye on you. It’s quiet, but not unbearably so; the air is broken by the sounds of the lyre and the television, as well as the soft chattering of the men at the table. It makes it comfortable, makes it soft in a way you’re unaccustomed to being, like the way people talk about lazy Sunday mornings or that voice they get when they see a cute animal.

It feels like home should be, instead of what yours is.

“So why’s Pretty Boy giving me the death glare?” You eventually ask past a mouthful of food. Taehyung barely looks up, just glancing past you to the guy laying on the couch. You can feel his eyes boring into your spine, but it’s nothing new.

“Taemin’s just protective,” Taehyung says softly. “Especially considering the stories.”

“The ones about me, you mean.”

A myriad of emotions passes through his eyes when he nods, and you wish you could more easily decipher them. Maybe in time, you will.

Maybe.

“Those, yes,” He says softly. “But he’ll learn.” He doesn’t say it, but nonetheless, you hear the words as clear as day. Just like I did.

Someone hums behind you and you glance over to see a woman - the strawberry thief - making her way into the kitchen. She gives Taehyung a look you don’t care enough to figure out, and they have an entire conversation in the span of five minutes. Something about it irks you, and it only gets worse when they start moving around each other, Taehyung handing her things without her asking.

It’s ridiculous, and you know it, but the air gets heavy in your lungs and your head starts to swim and suddenly you’re suffocating. It’s too much, there’s too much here, and you can’t take it anymore.

The force with which you shove away the counter would have slammed it into the wall were it not already attached. There are slight cracks in the granite tops, though, and there’s just enough clarity as Taehyung calls your name for you to feel guilty about it. It’s not enough to stop you though; you have to get out, you need to get out, before you do something worse, and the cracks in the granite are proof of that.

You’re out the door in an instant, your form coalescing painfully back into solid matter as you reach the hallway. Your ribs ache, screaming with the effort of trying to mist away from this place, this home , and you lean against the wall in the hope that it will help steady you.

The door opens behind you, the creak of the old hinges deafening in the silence of the hall. There’s a commotion behind it, voices overlapping each other and reverberating in your skull until they’re a twisted mockery of your siblings.

You stumble down the hall, one hand clutching your ribs to keep them as still as possible despite your movement. It’s not lost on you that there are footsteps following you, but you can’t focus on them now. You’re not moving fast, and you need to be, you should be running , but you can’t. Your vision is already clouding slightly at the edges, the sudden spike of adrenaline waning now that you’re out of the apartment.

Someone says your name and you swing.

It’s instinct, the way your fist flies through the air; you can’t control it, not this, not when the red is all you can see even as it seeps away and turns lilac. It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t make contact with anything but the wall, plaster crumbling around your fist and onto the carpeted floor.

“That was rude,” Taehyung says softly. He doesn’t sound mad, though he should, considering you almost decked him straight in the nose. “I’ll take you back.”

He drapes your jacket over your arm and walks away, toward emergency stairs tucked into the corner instead of the elevator, and you follow. He hums as he goes, and he lets you lead the way down the stairs, keeping pace with your quick steps until both of you step out a side door into an alleyway.

Out of habit, more than anything, you light a cigarette and put it between your lips. You don’t miss the disgusted scrunch of Taehyung’s nose, but you do ignore it. The smoke is familiar in lungs, comforting, and he doesn’t understand it, won’t ever understand it, but he doesn’t have to.

“Sorry, Tae,” You say after a few minutes of silence. Taehyung shrugs one shoulder and moves to lean beside you against the stone of the building.

“Are you okay now?” You nod, taking a deep breath, remembering how Hestia had taught you, so long ago, how her hand felt against your chest, the warmth and love it held. “Then you’re forgiven. And you can call me Calliope, if you want.”

You’re both quiet after that. He doesn’t make fun of you, he doesn’t judge you, he just silently drives you back to Suho’s bar, which is when you remember that he doesn’t know where you live. You’re fine with it; you don’t want to see him in your run down hovel. It’s not much, especially compared to his own apartment, but that makes sense, too.

What could ever live up to the home of a Muse? Not even a muse, really. The Muse. The Head of the Nine Muses, the one called on most often by those in need, the one that everyone knew, the one that Hephaestus just put statues of in the gardens of Olympus, according to the rumors that Apollo sent you.

The calm that he brings lasts until you get back to your apartment, nearly ten full minutes after you disappear into the alley beside Suho’s bar. It’s the longest the calm has ever lasted, and the view of the city tinted lavender is one you think you love.

If you can love.

Things get clearer, somehow. The weight on your shoulders lessens, makes you feel less like Atlas and more like you, how you were all those years ago in the now-ancient days when things made sense. When people fought for honor and glory and justice more than they fought for oil and death and greed.

It could be because open mic nights are frequent around the city, and you’re able to figure out his schedule pretty well. You don’t go every night that he sings, just when it gets to be too much, when the scarlet haze starts to bleed into your irises like a flag in front of a bull. It helps, for a while, lets you settle long enough to pull the pieces of you back into a shape that vaguely resembles yourself.

It could be because the fights happen every night, and Taehyung is no stranger to where to look to find them. He watches every one that he can, when he isn’t singing, and his presence anchors you. Focuses you, so that you can pull your punches just enough, so that there’s less hurting and more fighting. It doesn’t work every time, you still lose yourself in the rage and do more damage than you ever mean to, but it helps enough. And when it doesn’t, he’s there, to slide a hand across your shoulders in that exact same way that Hestia used to, that Apollo might if you let him close enough to know you’re alive, that Artemis would , were she anywhere but where she is.

It’s a strange feeling. You’re not used to companionship, you don’t know how to have friends. You still say the wrong things and do the wrong things and he still speaks to you like he expects to be listened to, but you both are learning. You apologize more often, and he corrects himself quicker. It’s a slow, fragile thing, this friendship, but it’s there.

Until the night when it’s not.

You aren’t sure how it happens. It’s been weeks since you last saw Taehyung; he mentioned some project he was working on, something or another that would have most of his attention along with that of several of the other Muses. You had brushed it off when he said it, some snide remark about how you don’t need him there to win.

You would take it back if you could.

Because you were right, of course, you don’t need him there to win; you can do that on your own. And your control has gotten better, stronger, over the last few months, but complacency is what always leads to disaster.

The guy deserved it, is what you tell yourself as you’re pulled out of the ring. He was a piece of shit anyway, you remind yourself as you call Apollo with shaking hands. He didn’t deserve your mercy, you tell the golden gold after you’ve begged him to help save the man’s life. Artemis would have done the same, you insist to him, long after he’s hung up the phone and left to follow the ambulance to the hospital.

You don’t go to Suho’s. You can’t bear it, not when he might be there, not when he would read it on your face in a heartbeat. You don’t want to watch the disappointment crumble into something more familiar, something worse, you can’t watch him look at you with the knowledge that your siblings are right, that they’ve always been right, that you’re nothing better than a crazed animal.

The club is packed full when you get there. The bartender starts to pour you a drink and you just take the bottle, leaving a too-thick wad of bills in return. The bourbon tickles as it goes down but it warms your stomach and distracts you from the haze in your mind, the repetitive beat of they were right they were right they were right they were-

“Whoops, sorry,” someone says, a second before they knock into your shoulder. You’ve been around long enough to know a fake fall, and you scowl as you glance towards them.

He’s cute. Taller than you, with skin that would hide the marks you so love to create, and hair that looks like it would be soft in your hands. His clothes fit well, and they look like they were chosen for comfort over style despite the way he walks like a model in them, which you always find attractive.

The smile that slips onto your face is familiar, as is the way you bring your hand up to rest on his hip in an effort to steady him.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” You tell him, not being subtle in the way you eye him. He looks soft; you love them soft. “You headed to get a drink?”

“I might be,” He says teasingly, a coy grin forming on his lips.

“I’ve got something better, if you’re interested.”

His eyes roam along your body, his breath drawing somewhat quicker when he notices the scrapes on your knuckles. “I might be.”

It takes five minutes to get him to a corner quiet enough to talk. Less than three to get your lips on his. One and a half to start sucking a mark into his neck that makes him moan so pretty you can’t help but want to hear it again.

One of your hands is up his shirt, playing with the pebbled buds and the metal pierced through them, while the other teasingly massages the skin of his hip when he’s torn away from you roughly.

“What the fuck?” Your voice growls as you look up. The guy is standing there, looking for all the world like he’s ready to run, but he isn’t watching you.

No, his eyes are on a familiar sight; Taehyung, his hair now a pretty lavender that makes you think of a home you don’t have, even as he doesn’t look at you.

“Taken,” He growls, releasing the collar of the guy you had every intent to make cry with pleasure. The guy scurries off before you can stop him, though, and you don’t bother to hide your disdain.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You demand, already lighting a cigarette as you head outside. Taehyung follows, pulling it from between your lips and crushing it in his hands before you have the chance to get your lighter out.

“Me? You looked like you were about to eat him .” He follows you all the way to the street outside and down the sidewalk, pulling each cigarette out of your hands before you can light it. He waits until you’re a decent distance from the crowd outside the club before he stops you, one hand lightly encircling your wrist.

Your boots scuff against the ground as you stop, not turning to look at him. You’re too afraid to, too worried he’ll see it all on your face and just know that you’ve fucked up, maybe beyond repair.

“Apollo called me,” is what he says instead. “Said I might want to find you tonight.”

You should’ve known. That little fuck, of course he would rat you out.

“I didn’t-”

The words choke in your throat. You want to say you don’t need him. You don’t need him to come running like you’re some scared little girl who can’t control her strength, you don’t need him to piece you back together because you aren’t broken, you don’t need him because you don’t need anyone, you never have.

“I know you didn’t,” Taehyung says quietly. “I know he deserved it, I know what he did, and I know you didn’t mean to.”

Something inside of you breaks and you find yourself shaking.

“He hurt her , Tae, I heard it, I heard her telling her friend about it on the phone, I saw her crying, I saw her clothes, okay, he-”

“I know,” Taehyung says, pulling you into a loose hug. “I know you did, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s not gonna escape his punishment from that, you didn’t send anyone to Hades today. It’s okay.”

The cloud struggles, for what feels like hours. Guilt settles like lead in your stomach, and you wish you weren’t so used to the feeling. The rage returns every time you remember what that girl looked like, what she sounded like on the phone, how you felt when you realized it was your competitor who had done that to her.

There’s no honor in that. There’s no justice, no glory, in beating an opponent who was never aware they were in the ring, and it makes your blood boil all over again. Taehyung’s voice soothes you, slightly, makes the edges of your vision turn indigo, but it isn’t enough.

It’s never enough.

“I have to go,” You say, pulling yourself away from him. “I need- I have to find-”

“A distraction,” He finishes for you, too aware that you can’t find the words you need. “Some mortal that you can bruise and break and bang until you feel less like a monster?”

That’s exactly what you want to do, what you had been about to do with that guy at the club, and it’s only Taehyung’s voice calling your name in that soft, sweet way of his that makes you wonder if that’s not a good plan.

“I’ll be a distraction, if you need one.” You whip your head around, staring at him, but he doesn’t flinch. “I’m sturdier than the mortals, I can take more. Let me be your distraction.”

“I…” You hesitate. You don’t know why. You shouldn’t even be entertaining this idea, it’s not a good one, but then...when have any of your ideas been good? “I can’t fuck in a house with eight other people.”

“You have an apartment,” He says easily. “Let’s go there.”

It’s a bad idea. You don’t do that, you don’t fuck people at your apartment, you don’t have people in your apartment, it’s your space. It’s a bad idea, it can only end in disaster.

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s lips are soft against yours, yielding and pliant just the way you’re used to. His hands are big and warm against your ass, even through your jeans, and the feeling gives you the courage to slide your own under the ridiculously patterned button-down he’s wearing.

He lets you lead the way through the door, kicking it closed behind you with slightly too much force. Your apartment is small, a studio with a bed tucked in the corner for the rare times that you need it.

You push Taehyung onto it and slide yourself onto his lap, already grinding down onto the hard length you can feel there. He's not quite as enthusiastic, but his fingers are like steel against you, pulling you down with every rut of your hips.

This, you can do. This, you're familiar with.

You push on his shoulders, doing your best to get him on his back so you can have better access to the clasp of his jeans, but he resists. You try again, firmer, using a harsh suck against his skin as a distraction, but he still doesn't go.

Frustrated, you pull back.

"Not like this," He says. His voice clears some of the fog, and you frown.

"Do you want to be on top, then? Because I don't mind, I just need it," You tell him. He sighs a little, but he flips the two of you over so he's kneeling between your open legs and your back is cushioned against the mattress.

"How long has it been since you spent the night with someone who knows who you are?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sits back on his knees.

You shift, uncomfortable. "A while. Why does that matter? Just fuck me."

"No," Taehyung says, voice gentle but firm. You cock a brow at him and move to get out from under him, but he stills you with a hand on your thigh.

"You are a goddess," He tells you, trailing his hands down so he can undo the laces on your steel-toe boots and slide them off. "You have held Victory in your palms and set her free."

His palms burn through the denim on your thighs, but you welcome it as he slides your jacket over your shoulders to the bed beneath.

"You are the winner of wars. You are the one who grants battlefield wishes. You are the dead's escort to Hades." He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then down your throat.

He pulls back as he gets to your collarbone, eyes blown wide with unfamiliar desire, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You," Taehyung tells you, with desire in his eyes and belief in his voice, "Deserve to be treated like the goddess that you are, with the respect you have earned, and the care you deserve."

As often as you fuck people, it's been a very long time since anyone wanted to fuck you for any reason beyond your appearance and the personality you show them. But this? This look in the muse's eyes as his hands settle on your knees as he waits?

Taehyung wants to fuck you because you're you. Not despite it, not because he doesn't know . He has seen you at your worst and yet he keeps coming back, keeps showing up as you fall apart. Each time he stays, hands you a basket so you can pick the pieces of yourself up off the ground, holds the tape so you can mash it back together, and is ready to help steady you when you start to crumble again.

He's here for you , to treat you in a way no one has ever treated you before. He's your friend.

He cares.

You nod, however tentatively, and his lips are on yours in an instant. They're firmer now, less pliable and more controlling, but you don't mind. Not this time.

Not with Taehyung.

His hands don't hesitate as he strips you both of your clothes, but you can feel it each time he checks to make sure you're okay. The way that he watches your expression, the tense of your muscles under him, the cadence of your gasps for air between kisses, he reads all of it as clear as if it's a book in front of him. He slows down before you can stop him, his lips drawing back from the kisses he draws across your thighs, and he speeds up as your thoughts start to drift, swiping his tongue and two fingers through your folds to tease and bring your attention back to him.

His fingers bury themselves in your heat, crooking slightly to brush against that soft part of you that makes the world spin, and it's all too intense. His lips are hardly even touching your skin, just pressing gentle kisses against the skin of your thigh, a gentle complement to the way he glides his fingers in and out of you, slow and steady and delicious, but it's absolutely intoxicating.

He's talkative, too; he gives you constant praise. He tells you how well you take his fingers, how good you look with his fingers inside you, how absolutely fantastic you taste on his tongue, how he'd live between your thighs if he could.

It's too much, and you can't be sure why, not when your orgasm is approaching quicker than it ever has, not when your walls clench around him and you soak your sheets, not when he's cleaning your cum off his fingers with his tongue.

"Good," He purrs. "Now you're all warmed up."

His mouth hits your heat without hesitation or warning, before the aftershocks are even finished, and your hips buck upwards. His arms slide underneath your thighs only to grip them and bring them back down. You can't move much in his grip except to grind your pussy against his mouth, which he seems to enjoy, if the muffled grunts that escape him are any indication.

He doesn't stop until his tongue is buried inside you with one finger drawing lazy circles on your clit and you're cumming again, hands gripping the soft strands of his hair so tight that you would be afraid of pulling it out if you could focus on anything besides the feel of him against you.

He lets you ride the aftershock, this time. Waits until your pants die down slightly, until you're back in your mind.

"Good?" He asks you. His voice is deeper, rumbles instead of slides, but it breaks through the post-orgasm haze long enough for you to nod. “More?”

“More,” you agree, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a heated kiss. You haven’t been this clear-headed in a while. Every sensation is clear and crisp, every sound heightened, everything is simultaneously more while also being exactly what it’s always supposed to have been.

Taehyung’s cock is everything you could have expected from a muse; thick, long, beautiful, and it fills you in a way that’s indescribable as he slides inside. He groans at the feeling, deep and throaty and beautiful, and begins his thrusts nearly immediately.

It’s as slow as he was with his fingers; steady and forceful, but unhurried. As if he wants to take his time. As if he wants to savor it. Savor you .

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” He mutters, almost as an afterthought. “What you look like right now, what you look like when you’re fighting, when you’ve won and you’re triumphant? It’s fucking addictive, seeing that confidence in you.”

“Shit, Tae, don’t stop-”

“It’s so fucking intoxicating,” He groans, pace quickening. Your arms wrap around him more fully, nails like claws down his back as you arch your back to get him deeper. “You get this look in your eyes, like you can do anything you fucking want to, and it’s so fucking brilliant, because you can , you can do anything and everything you ever fucking want to do, and no one can stop you.”

A whine you’ll never admit to escapes your throat, and Taehyung drives his cock further into you.

“Let go, my sweet,” Taehyung purrs in your ear. “Let yourself relax, just this once. For me.”

His hand touches your clit and it’s so much, too much , you’re feeling everything so intensely that it takes a solid minute to realize you’re coming down from an orgasm. Taehyung has stilled inside you, unmoving but groaning as you flutter around him, and you push weakly at his shoulder.

He slides himself out of you, looking entirely too proud of wet spot underneath you and glistening against his lower stomach. You wobble your way up to rest your elbows underneath you, and it’s like he can sense your words before they come.

“No,” He says simply. “I don’t you to get me off with your mouth.”

“A hand then? I don’t want you to leave unsatisfied.”

A frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he leans down just enough that your lips are almost touching, a not-there kiss that you can only wish for.

“In what world is fucking you to the point of Elysium unsatisfying?”

The crowd around you is deafening; some of them are cheering for you, but the majority are rooting for your downfall. Such is the life of a challenging the champion, you suppose.

You don’t know how Taehyung found this place; maybe Artemis had heard rumors, or maybe he searched for it himself. You can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’ve got someone worth fighting on the other side of the arena.

The sand crunches beneath your feet. It’s hot, hotter than it should be since you’re still wearing your signature jeans and boots - without the jacket this time. You learned from that mistake.

Your vision tints pink as you size up your opponent; he’s massive, not one to be easily defeated, and you relish the challenge. It’s been so long since you’ve fought a giant. Excitement thrums under your veins as he turns to you. He scoffs.

If you had a little less control, you might be flying across the arena already. He clearly has no idea who’s standing across from him. Probably thinks you’re some demigod, come to challenge him for the fleece he isn’t supposed to have.

He’ll learn.

Something moves in the distance. It should blend in, considering how dark it is, but instead it draws your eye, and you don’t even question why. You would recognize him anywhere, have recognized him everywhere, and his presence calms you. Makes you remember a few nights ago, falling into bed in a hotel in Rome because the burn was to much and you needed him to help you release it.

“Try not to be too quick, princess,” The giant across from you huffs. You cock a brow and send a look to your muse, who just rolls his eyes, despite the smile playing across his face.

Violet rings your vision as you ready your stance. The announcer yells something that’s lost over the noise of the crowd. Taehyung leans forward, elbows on his knees, excitement and pride in his eyes.

The giant swings.

867 notes · View notes

houseof-harry · 4 years

Text

What Happens In Jersey Pt. 4 | G.D.

A/N - I legit rewrote this part three times and I’m so excited for y’all to see what happens!!!! Get a snack and some water (bc y’all gonna be thirsty as shit after this) and settle in bc we’re about to go for a ride! Read the last part here

Word Count - 5.2K

Warnings - smut on smut on smut

Recap:

“Pregnancy isn’t sexy.”

He laughs. Like genuine, whole hearted laughter. “What are you talking about?” “What are you talking about?” You fire back.

“The fact that you’re pregnant with my baby is the hottest shit ever. I did that shit. We did that shit. It’s hot.”

“We can agree to disagree, then.”

So much for trying to keep things simple, Grayson thinks to himself.

“Let me prove it.”

***

The past few minutes felt like a total blur. One second, you and Grayson were talking – okay, flirting – and the next, you were underneath him on the couch, his hands up your sweatshirt. He tasted just like you remember, minty and fresh, except this time there was no tequila or vodka, it was pure desire.

You had thought about kissing him ever since the last time and it feels like your memory had failed you. His lips were soft and sensual against your own, his tongue caressing yours like he couldn’t get enough. You both were breathing heavily, not wanting to break apart from each other for even a second.

However, when his fingers finally brushed against your nipple, pinching it lightly, you gasped, forcing your lips away from his. Your eyes stayed closed as he continued to roll it between his fingertips, the sensation sending shock waves straight to your pussy.

“Like that, mama?” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath heating you up even more.

You let out a pathetic whine, nodding your head while biting your lip. Your brain was so fogged with pleasure, the thought of trying to speak seemed impossible.

He chuckled, somewhat bringing your brain back to reality and causing you to open your eyes. He looked like a Greek god above you, his hair going every which way, his pupils dilated, and a smirk plastered across his swollen lips. This was so much better than the first time already, and he hadn’t even gotten your naked.

“You’re sure you want it?” His face went serious for a moment and you could tell he wanted a genuine answer, not just some lust filled moan. Your heart fluttered knowing that even in this position he is still so caring and wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

“Want it bad,” you told him, dragging your hands up the front of his clothed torso, heat radiating off him like a furnace.

Grayson growled, picking you up quickly and wrapping your legs around his waist. You squealed, your arms flying around his neck to steady yourself. He walked you to the laundry room, doing his best not to walk you into the wall or anything while he kissed your neck. If you were being honest, you wouldn’t even notice if he did walk into something because it felt like you and Grayson were the only things to exist right now.

He laid you down on the bed gently, standing back to watch you catch your breath. His mind was overflowing with anything you and he needed to take a second to ground himself. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to be in this position with you again.

You see, after your night during New Year’s Eve, he was over the moon. His friends had tried to convince him that maybe he needed to chill with trying to find a wife at 20, so that’s what he did.

He was just living his life, tried casually seeing girls, but none of them seemed to click with him. But when he met you at Jessie’s, he felt something different. He wasn’t totally infatuated like he’d been in the past with his ‘soulmates,’ but he more felt excited butterflies while also a serene calmness radiating off of you. You made everyone in the room smile, including him. So, he turned the charm on and a week later he had his first one night stand.

Except, you were stuck in his head after that. When Ethan made him drive them home before you had gotten up, he found he was disappointed he didn’t get to say bye to you. He was hoping to even maybe get your number. But, his friends reminded him that that’s not what one night stands are, so he went back to LA and kept living his life.

That feeling had never left him, though. The butterflies would spark up every time he saw an Instagram post from Jessie that had you in it, or when he smelled anything coconutty because of the way your hair smelled that night, or even when he’d have lemonade because of the way he could remember your mouth tasting, and limes are similar enough to lemons, right?

So, the fact that you were in his bed, pregnant with his baby and ready to get fucked by him again made his stomach twist and his heart pound in his ears. He could feel the blood rushing to his dick, but he also felt those butterflies, the unique feeling you brought to him every time he heard your heavy breathing, saw your wide eyes, and tasted your sweaty skin.

“Gray?” You breathed out, watching him stand there, his eyes just raking over your completely clothed body. You’d assumed you’d be almost naked by now and your sweatshirt and leggings were pretty much suffocating you with how hot you were for him.

His eyes instantly met yours when he heard his name from your mouth, and his signature smirk forming on his lips once again. “Yeah, mama?”

“Touch me.”

Grayson’s eyes closed for a moment to collect himself before he opened them again with a new determination gleaming in them. He crawled on top of you, straddling your hips while pushing your sweatshirt slowly up your body. His fingers are brushing over the skin of your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He stopped right before exposing your breasts, watching you squirm. He wanted to take his time with you tonight. Appreciate you this time, memorize every part of your body so that he doesn’t have to forget it ever again.

You, however, were lacking the patience he possessed at the moment and decided to take it into your own hands. You grabbed your sweatshirt, lifting your body the best you could, and took it off in one movement.

This made Grayson laugh, but his eyes never left your tits. One of your elbows went back against the bed to hold your body up while the other grabbed one of his large ones, bringing it directly against your chest. He found himself unable to resist as he started to massage the warm flesh against his palm, his other hand going to match his movements on your other tit.

You sighed out in relief, arching your back into his touch. You’d waited so long for this, and you’re grateful to finally be getting some type of relief.

Similar to Grayson, your mind has been clouded with him since New Year’s Eve. Unlike him, however, you had done the whole no-strings-attached situation your first two years of college. When you had to get more serious about school junior year, along with getting leadership opportunities in your organizations, your sex life went straight to the back burner. Plus, you had Jessie. Jessie had come into your life sophomore year, originally as one of your many sexual endeavors. After seeing him a few times, though, you decided you’d rather be friends with him than just have sex with him. You and him got along really well, and you had a lot of mutual friends already.

Jessie was the last person you’d slept with before Grayson. You never really found yourself missing Jessie in that way, so it was easier to put yourself into the rest of your life. You never felt distracted by him, and almost forgot you guys used to sleep together. But, you still had needs like any human being, so it was kind of frustrating to not have anyone during that year and a half. That’s why when you met Grayson, you almost felt revived.

He was funny and nice and hot as fuck and he was attracted to you. He’d made you feel a way no other guy had before. He was respectful and genuinely interested in his passions and that made you feel inspired. You couldn’t quite place it, it was just the fact that he was Grayson that made you attracted to him.

When he had been gone when you woke up on New Year’s, you were disappointed, but not shocked. He was still a guy. He had his needs met and that’s what he wanted.

However, getting to know him once you found out you were pregnant had made you realize that that wasn’t totally the case. Miscommunication could practically be your middle name at this point, and although you were disappointed you’d be having a friend baby because you both had decided not to pursue the other, you were grateful he was in your life at all.

But now knowing that he still wanted you all these months later (and a couple pounds because of strawberry, too), has excited you in a way you have never felt before. There was a fire in you that only he could put out, and he was not moving fast enough for you.

“Gray come on, please,” you whined, lifting your hips up to meet his.

“Fuck, pretty girl. Needy for me?” He bit his lip, swiping his thumbs over your nipples repeatedly, watching them continue to get harder with each touch.

You nodded, lifting your hips again. His hands grabbed your hips, helping you move back on the bed so that he was knelt between your legs. His fingers dug into the top of your leggings, pulling them down and throwing them with your sweatshirt.

When he looked back down at you, he was met with your pink thong barely covering you. He could see the wet spot on them over your slit, making his cock twitch under his sweats.

“Baby,” he breathed out, laying down while his palms brushed over the smooth skin of your inner thighs, forcing them open wider so he could be comfortable. “Shoulda told me how bad you needed me, pretty girl.” “I did!” You groaned, squirming around once you felt his breath on your center.

He chuckled, enjoying the way he was torturing you. “You’re right, you did. But I’ll make it worth it, don’t worry.”

Before you could say anything back, he was dragging his tongue up your covered slit, tasting what he can through the fabric. You both moaned quietly, excited to finally be getting what you’ve craved for so long.

One of Grayson’s hands moved closer to your center, his thumb rubbing over the wet spot, pulling the fabric away and to the side so that he can finally see what he had been trying to remember for over three months now.

“Pretty girl, this fucking pussy. Been dreaming about it.” His words made your cheeks flush, and as you were about to remind him to get to it, he dove in.

His tongue was exploring you, reaching from your hole all the way to your clit, making sure you were wet enough between what you’re giving him and his spit. Once he was satisfied, he put his focus on your clit.

The feeling of finally having his mouth on you after so many months was totally overwhelming. Your pussy fluttered every time he licked you just right, causing one of your hands to enter his hair at the back of his head. Your eyes squeezed shut from how good it felt, your brain unable to comprehend what was happening. You had managed to pull Grayson Dolan not once, but twice. You couldn’t even care about any consequences you’ll deal with later, his tongue being the only thing you cared about.

You pulled it lightly at his hair and he groaned against you, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making your back arch. Your breathing quickened when you felt his other hand come closer to his mouth, his middle finger rubbing up and down your slit to collect some wetness before he pushed it into you. He moved so slowly, inching his way into the pussy he’s wanted to be back in for so long, and it drove you both crazy. Your walls were almost suffocating his finger as he explored you, figuring out what would make you squirm.

His sensual movements were causing your orgasm to bubble up from deep within you. His finger was soon joined by another and he began to stretch you out, his attention on your clit never faltering. He was devouring you like he hadn’t had water for weeks and you’re the first drop he could find. He was totally enamored with your reactions to his touch. He never wanted it to end, your moans and whines being music to his ears, your hips squirming against his face, spreading your wetness across his chin. He started grinding his hips against the bed for any kind of relief, wanting to taste your cum on his tongue.

Luckily for him, you were really close. Your hand that wasn’t in his hair was twisting the sheets, the pleasure you were feeling totally consuming every part of your being. Before you knew what was happening, your legs were clamping around his head while you came, groaning his name out while you tugged on his hair.

Grayson worked you through the whole thing, his fingers and tongue never stopping. Your body relaxed and that’s when he slowed down, slowly sliding his fingers out of you. He licked your opening, cleaning up as much as he could, relishing in the way you were twitching against him. He left one last kiss to your sensitive clit before pulling away and climbing up onto his knees between your legs.

When he looked down at you, spread out on his bed, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over, he literally moaned at the site.

“Fuck, pretty girl.”

You didn’t even bother to respond with words, merely whining and nudging him with your knees.

Grayson stood up, pulling his shirt over his head, dragging his pants and underwear down after.

“You still want it, mama?” He asked while he crawled back on the bed, returning to his spot between your legs.

You look down at the dick you hadn’t seen since January and almost moaned at the site. It was somehow more enticing than you remember, and you needed him in you now.

“Yes, really bad. Please fuck me, Gray,” you whined, your hands reaching out for him. He obliged, falling over you, his arms stopping him so that he didn’t crush you.

You could see the glimmer of your wetness still on his chin, prompting you to reach up and swipe your thumb across his skin to collect it all. Your thumb slowly moved to his bottom lip, pushing on it a bit. He opened his mouth, allowing your thumb to enter, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. He sucked every last drop off your finger, his tongue leaving no part of your thumb untouched. When you pulled it out, his teeth lightly brushing against your skin, and you feel like you could melt at the feeling, never mind the sight.

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, mama,” he groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes for a moment.

You giggled, pulling his face to yours by gripping his cheeks, kissing him once slowly and trying to portray how you felt through your lips. When you pulled away, your teeth caught on his lower lip while you looked up at him. Grayson felt like he could cum at the sight of you, looking fucked out and totally lost in the way he was making you feel.

This was what prompted him to bring one hand down to his dick, pumping himself a couple times before lining up with your slit.

“Ready, pretty girl?”

You whined, nodding and biting your own lip, wiggling your hips while you waited for him to do what you’ve been dreaming of for months. Soon, he was fulfilling your wishes while he pushed into you slowly, relishing in the way your walls were sucking him in. Once he was all the way in, he stilled so that you had time to adjust. Your hands moved to his shoulders, your nails digging into the skin there from how overwhelmed you were.

“Fuck me, Gray,” you whispered, looking him straight in the eyes while you said it.

Grayson didn’t need anything else to prompt him as he started to move in and out of you, his pace slowly and steadily increasing until you felt the bed rocking underneath you. He watched your face while your eyes fell shut, your brain consumed with the pleasure he was giving you. He was brushing the spot inside you that made you shake, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

“Feeling good, baby?” He breathed against your ear, his hips grinding into you in a way that allowed for your clit to rub against him.

You moaned in response, your head pushing back into the pillow and your back arching into him so as much of your skin was touching his as possibly. Your nails dragged down his back, your toes beginning to curl.

“Cum around my cock, pretty girl. Need to feel it.” His voice is uneven, his breathing increasing as his thrusts get sloppy. He was just as close as you, floating on cloud nine.

His words prompted you to give into the immeasurable pleasure he was giving you, your ears ringing as you came hard around him. You whimpered into his ear, gripping his lower back as your squirmed underneath him. Once you came back down, you could see the pleasure written across his face, making you smirk.

You squeezed your walls around him, causing him to groan as he pushed his face into your neck to try and muffle the noises as much as possible for the sake of his family. You just felt so good, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it in.

Soon he was stalling inside you, gripping your hip to keep you where you were so that you couldn’t move away from him, his cum shooting into you. His breathing was quick as he was finally spent, his body relaxing on top of yours.

Once you had both calmed down a bit, you moved a hand into his hair, stroking it softly. “You’re gonna have to get a plan b tomorrow,” you giggled. You felt his laugh vibrate through your chest as he stroked your sides.

“And you told me my humor was shit.”

“I said you were cheesy!” You laughed, defending yourself.

Instead of responding, Grayson get up from on top of you, pulling out of you. The lack of body heat made you shiver, but you were heating up again when he kneelt between your legs to watch his cum slowly drip out of you. “God, pretty girl, this is the hottest shit,” he groaned, spreading your lips with his thumbs to enhance his view. You whined, covering your face and feeling more exposed than ever. He chuckled, crawling back up to straddle your midsection while removing your hands from your face by gripping your wrists. “Gonna be shy on me now? After what we just did?”

“I dunno, no one’s really looked at me like that after sex.”

“Like what?”

“Like they still thought I was hot after they got what they wanted.”

He frowned, moving a hand to your cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. It made him sad to think about how you had been treated in the past by so many people. He didn’t think you deserved any of it because he genuinely thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“I – this wasn’t…Y/N. This wasn’t just a ‘get our rocks off’ thing. I care about you. And I’ve thought you were hot this whole time. So, let’s get you cleaned up and in bed, because we’re going to the city tomorrow and strawberry has to be rested up for our fun day. Okay?”

A small smile managed to make its way on your face, nodding as he moved off the bed, holding his hand out to you. You took it and he helped you stand. You could feel his cum dripping down your thighs, making your blush. You stood there while he moved around, pulling his sweats up his legs before he handed his shirt to you.

“You okay?” He asked as you stood there staring at him. His voice brought you out of your thoughts, prompting you to grab his shirt and slip it over your head.

“Uh, yeah. Just can feel your cum coming out,” you mumbled.

He chuckled, walking over to you and resting his hands on your hips. “Can’t believe you don’t see how fucking hot you are.” He left a quick kiss on your lips before walking you to the door.

“Hey, wait. I don’t have any pants on.” You went to turn but he grabbed your wrist to keep you standing where you were.

“Please don’t put any on.”

You laughed, raising your brow at him. “What if we pass Ethan or your mom in the hallway?”

“We won’t, they’re both out by now. Come on.” He tugged on you, bringing you out of the room before you could protest.

You made it to the bathroom unseen, Grayson locking the door behind you guys before he turned back to you.

“What’re you looking at?” He smirked, seeing you standing there and watching him unmoving.

Your cheeks warmed. “Oh, nothing really. You just, you have…I scratched you.”

He smirked, walking to you and loosely holding you against him by your hips. his mouth found the skin below your ear. “You like seeing me marked up by you?”

You gasped, not expecting him to come onto you again, but you found yourself nodding before you could control it. It was really hot, actually. Knowing that the next time he showered he’d be reminded of you from the burning on his back.

“Now you understand how fucking hot it is you’re pregnant with my baby.” He left one hot, open mouthed kiss on your neck before completely pulling away and going to get his toothbrush. To say you were flustered would be a complete understatement. You didn’t understand how he was able to affect you so intensely, but he did and now you found yourself unable to look away from his back as he began brushing.

He noticed through the mirror and chuckled, leaning over to spit before speaking to you.

“Gonna clean my cum up from your pussy or do you just wanna watch me brush my teeth?”

“Oh my god, the douche is back, it was fun while it lasted I guess,” you jokingly groaned, moving to sit on the toilet. You couldn’t prevent the smile spreading on your face, though. For some reason, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.

***

You woke up the next morning to a hand on your face gently stroking you. You took a big breath in, turning your head to face where the hand was coming from. “Gray?” You mumbled.

“No, better,” you heard a familiar voice. Suddenly your eyes were flying open as you looked up at Jessie sitting on the edge of the bed, his body connected to the hand on your face. “Hey Y/N.” He’s got a smirk on his face as he watched the shock settle into your features.

“Jess? What? What’s –“ you looked around, seeing the bed empty of Grayson. A tiny part of you is disappointed, but you don’t let it show. You looked back at him, sitting up as a smile graced your features. “Jessie.”

“Ethan and Grayson invited me to your city day. Missed seeing you every day.”

“Yay! Okay, I gotta get ready and stuff,” you exclaimed, moving a bit closer to the edge, immediately remembering you had Grayson’s shirt on. Only Grayson’s shirt.

Jessie sat there expectantly because he had seen you in your pajamas multiple times, so when you paused he raised his brow. “You gonna puke or something?”

“Uh, you know what, yeah. I really don’t feel well. Can I have a couple minutes to get myself together?” You batted your eyelashes at him, knowing he would do whatever you wanted.

“Of course, I’ll be in the kitchen with the guys.” He patted your thigh covered by the blankets before standing and leaving the room.

You let out a sigh of relief, grateful that worked. See, after you got pregnant, Jessie has been super protective over you and has been weird about your relationship with Grayson. He loved the kid, don’t get it wrong, but he didn’t love the fact that it took a baby for Grayson to realize how amazing you are to talk to and be around. It almost felt like Jessie was acting like your older brother or something. Almost. A small part of you felt like it was jealously, but you didn’t even want to entertain that idea in case you were totally wrong.

Plus, what you had said wasn’t even a lie. You really didn’t feel well. However, you’ve learned to go about your day despite it, so you got up and got dressed in weather appropriate clothes that you wouldn’t be uncomfortable walking around the city in.

You go out to the kitchen, smiling when you saw all three boys chatting. Grayson stood over the stove while Ethan and Jessie leaned against the counter nearby.

“There she is. Thought we’d never get this show on the road,” Ethan joked, watching you walk towards them. They all were dressed kind of nice, nothing fancy but certainly no sweats in sight.

“Shut up, I’m growing a baby. Makes me a bit tired.” You walked to get water, hoping that would satisfy strawberry so your stomach would calm down.

“Oh yeah that’s for sure what’s made you tired,” Ethan remarked sarcastically, his smile never leaving his face. Your cheeks burned as Jessie gave him a questioning look.

Before the conversation could go any further, Grayson interrupted. “Pancakes?” He was looking directly at you, even though the question was for everyone.

It felt weird to be around him right now, knowing he literally fucked you last night and left. You weren’t sure how to feel about it, but you didn’t want to ruin the day for everyone.

You shook your head no, doing your best to keep your face neutral so as not to show the disgust you felt at the thought of eating pancakes. Strawberry had long ruined them for you, throwing them up one too many times.

“Your baby fucking hates pancakes, dude. Y/N’s thrown them up like ten times. I’ll have some, though,” Jessie jumped in, walking over to the stove. Grayson looked at you, as if he was waiting to hear it from you instead of Jessie.

You shrugged. “Guess strawberry is not a breakfast person. It’s okay, though, I’ve been throwing up less in general so I hope one day pancakes will be back in my life. They used to be my favorite.” He nodded, not really saying much as he served Jessie and Ethan some. He knew they were your favorite, you’d told him that a couple months ago. That’s why he made them in the first place today.

He’d gotten up early in the hopes to give you breakfast in bed before you day with everyone, but Jessie had gotten there early and ruined that. And Jessie seemed to know not only more about your pregnancy, but about your baby. He could feel the jealously bubbling up inside him, but he tried to keep it at bay. He was one of your best friends and sees you every day at school. It made sense he knew that stuff about you.

While Ethan and Jessie were busy eating, Grayson walked over to you. “Hey, you feel okay?” His eyebrows were drawn together in concern. He could tell something was off.

“Uh, yeah. Fine. Just nauseous.”

“Are you gonna…”

“No, I’m fine. Not as fragile as you think,” you mumbled, taking a sip of your water. If he only wanted to take care of you when it benefited him, you were fine with that. You just didn’t want him to act like he wanted anything more than that just because there were other people there.

He sighed, his eyes softening. “Y/N, no, you know that’s not what I meant. Just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” You gave him a tight smile before walking to the table to sit next to Jessie, leaving Grayson to clean up the breakfast he made for you before he sat down himself to eat.

Once everyone but you had eaten, you all got ready to head to the train station. You still had no idea what you guys were doing today because Grayson said he had wanted to keep it a surprise for you. You and Jessie decided to go outside to wait by the car for Ethan and Grayson. He had his arm around your shoulder as you walked out the door.

“Excited for today?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s gonna be nice to do something normal with them. And something fun in general, feels like all I do are stressful things between the baby and our last semester. I know when we go back I’m gonna be working literally until graduation.”

“Yeah, but at least we’ll do it together. And then we get to graduate together to celebrate.” He squeezed your shoulder and you leaned into him. You were genuinely not sure what you’d do without him, he kept you sane half the time.

Ethan and Grayson walked outside to meet you guys, and Grayson paused. He watched you and Jessie talking, and noticed how relaxed you were. He wondered if you ever looked that way when you were talking to him.

Ethan continued to walk to the car, leaving Grayson on the porch. It was only when Ethan called for him to unlock the car that Grayson stopped staring and walked over as well.

“Shotgun!” Ethan called, running to the passenger side of the car.

“No dude, Y/N gets shotgun,” Grayson responded casually, opening the driver’s side door.

“Gray, it’s okay, I don’t have to-“

“It’ll help make you feel better, right? Or at least not make you feel any more sick.” He raised his brow, looking at you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling bad. You felt like you were totally interrupting their usual flow of things.

“Hey, Y/N, come sit. It’s okay, Jess and I’ll cuddle in the back,” Ethan joked, keeping the door open for you as you walked over, giving him a soft smile.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re the one growing a baby. You get to make the calls.” Ethan closed your door once you were in your seat before climbing in the back with Jessie.

Grayson handed you his phone and you gave him a questioning look. “You’re on aux,” He clarified. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach from the smile he gave you, knowing how into music he is and how difficult he finds it to give up the aux power. You made sure to pick songs you knew everyone would love, lightening the slightly weird mood that had settled over you guys that morning. Maybe today wouldn’t be as awkward as you anticipated.

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clockworkgraystairs · 4 years

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O.M.G!!! I loved your recent jurdan fic sooo much!! Can you write when she tells Cardan she’s pregnant?? Can Cardan get emotionally excited??I love their softness and excitement... love you 😍

Hello dear!!! Thank you so much for your words!

I’m sorry it took me long but my job is a pain in the ass and I don’t have as much time as I would like to write. Buuut here it is!

It also came out longer than I expected bc apparently I can’t keep things easy.

Anyway, ENJOY! LOVE U TOO!

~~~~

JUDE TELLS CARDAN SHE’S PREGNANT

Jude had spent half of her life learning how to face danger.

Years and years of training, creating strategies, fighting and even killing when she needed to.

Gods above, she was the Queen.

The High Queen of Elfhame, and she was shrinking on one corner of her sister Vivi’s bathroom; staring at the little pharmaceutic device, the third one, showing the result.

Jude carved her face with shaking hands.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She muttered, her breathing harsh.

This was supposed to be an ordinary weekend.

One year had passed since her official coronation and occasionally she liked to spend a day or two at the human world with Vivi, Heather and little Oak. Sometimes Cardan came with her, partially she suspected, since he’d caught some fascination for Sephora stores and some human customs, he claimed, he wanted to experience.

This time though, he’d stayed back in Elfhame, to attend some meetings Jude didn’t want to be part of.

Everything was going fine, they went to the park, to the movie theater and at last to the pizza place near her sister’s house, where Oak asked for Jude’s favorite to honor her visit. What she didn’t expect, was the sudden nausea that crept up her stomach as soon as the pizza arrived, making her ran to the toilet in a couple of seconds.

It didn’t take much time for Vivi to suspect what was going on, even with Jude’s insistence on it probably being a stomach bug.

On their way back to her apartment, she bought Jude three different pregnancy tests under the argument that “one could never know”. Then filled her with orange juice and waited. And waited.

So here she was. With three positive results. Pregnant.

A loud knock on the door made her jump. “JUDE? Is everything alright?? You’ve been there ages! Are you done??”

“Let her be Viv, don’t make her more nervous than she already is…” That was Heather.

“What? I’m not. I just want to know if-”

Jude stood and opened the door stopping her mid-sentence.

Two pairs of eyes stared at her expectantly. She pursed her lips and took in a deep breath.

“So, apparently I’m pregnant.” She said to no one in particular. The words sounded strange in her mouth, as if she wasn’t the one saying them.

“Are… are you sure?” Viv’s face had lost all track of emotion. Jude quirked an eyebrow and handed her sister the pregnancy tests.

What came next was a bunch of screaming and “oh my gods” and Heather swearing she’d dreamed about it a few nights ago. Maybe something else about a bet between her sister and Madoc.

Jude was only hearing half of it. Instead her mind was worrying about one thing only. Cardan. How in hell was she going to tell him? How was he going to react?

She didn’t even know how she felt.

They didn’t talk much about the subject. Some comments from the Court members about them providing heirs had quickly turned into inside jokes she and Cardan occasionally teased each other with. But joking about it was very different to this. To actually being pregnant. To carry life inside her that someday would become a baby, a child. For her to become a mother. For them to become parents.

How was a parent supposed to be to begin with? She’d grown up with her kidnapper, a cold-blood murderer as the only parental figure. Her husband didn’t have a better role model.

And now they’ll have to raise a new creature into this world. It was too much to digest in one day.

The next morning, she returned to Elfhame. Still with no clue of how to tell Cardan the news.

She found their chambers empty, and took the chance to take a bath and put on her queenly clothes before going to search for her husband. She needed to tell him immediately, before her sense of fake bravery vanished.

“Last time I saw him, Your Highness, he was on his way to his mother chambers.” Fand told her. Jude rolled her eyes and groaned, that was the last place where she wanted to go but her hands had already started to tremble, if she waited more time she wouldn’t be able to do it.

One step away from Asha’s door she hesitated. Jude had meant to knock, but the door was already half-opened and she could hear voices coming out.

“Seriously Cardan, how long are you going to keep this up?” Asha sounded annoyed. “You had your fun with the mortal girl, why keeping her at all?”

“She is my wife.” Was all he answered.

Jude leaned just a bit so she could peer inside the room. Cardan stood before his mother, who rested on a pile of cushions. His back faced the door so she couldn’t see his expression.

Asha sighed.

“That didn’t stop you from vanishing her once. And we are not at war anymore so I doubt her fighting skills are needed much.” she shrugged. “Aren’t you just bored already?”

Jude could see Cardan’s fist tightly closed. “I don’t see why my personal decisions affect you mother, nor why should I explain them to you.” His voice sounded strained. “As for Jude, she is no weapon just designed for war, and her staying is not for you to decide or even mention.”

Asha’s lips quirked just a little. “Ah, I see now. My dear son, are you not capable to see all of the pleasures you are denying yourself just for a whim?” She raised to her feet and rested one of her perfect hands on Cardan’s shoulder. “It is not rare for Kings to take mistresses, and let me tell you, I know several beauties who would do anything for the opportunity.”

Jude’s ears were ringing with rage. How dare she suggested such thing? To even consider the possibility of Cardan taking some vulgar… she shook her head, not even finishing the thought of it. She was so focused in her desire to take Asha’s head and slam her into the floor she couldn’t hear his answer.

Asha laughed in a cruel way that make Jude’s stomach turn as she came back to reality. Oh gods, was she going to be sick again?

“You ought to think of the future of your people too, you know. Elfhame will need an heir someday. And do you think the folk will not prefer a precious pure fae, instead of some half breed…” Asha’s eyes darted to the side and locked with Jude’s, making her heart skip a beat. “With filthy human blood?”

Jude took a step back, feeling tears stinging behind her eyes. She knew what Asha was doing, that bitch, knowing she was listening behind the door. But it didn’t matter, not as her heart hammered with such intensity it was starting to hurt. Not as her throat closed in anger and impotence, making her hard to breath.

So she just turned and rushed far from there.

Somehow she reached one of the back balconies and stood there, staring at the sea under her. Jude knew she would be a filthy human for some of the folk for the rest of her days. She’d grown with that knowledge and she didn’t care anymore. But now, it was not only her. It would never be only her ever again. Was she really that stupid for allowing this to happen to someone else? Not only someone else, but her own child? Would Cardan even agree to the idea?

Minutes passed. Even hours maybe, but she didn’t move. She felt as if she’d forgotten how to.

Light steps sounded behind her.

“Jude?” Cardan’s voice somehow filled her with something between peace and anxiousness, remembering why she was searching for him in the first place.

She didn’t answer, so he continued. “I ran into Sir Fand a while ago, she told me you were looking for me. I should have been there when you arrived, I am sorry my love.”

Jude shook her head, “It’s okay.” Her voice was faint, almost a whisper. She still didn’t dare looking at him.

“Jude, is there something wrong?” He came closer to her, now standing by her side. Cardan searched her gaze but she looked down. “Have… Have I done something to upset you?”

Jude’s heart hurt at his tone.

“No, no you didn’t.” She wanted to tell him everything was okay, that he didn’t do anything wrong, that she was perfectly fine. Except she was not. She just didn’t know what to say first or how. “And yes, I was… looking for you.”

She felt Cardan’s hand take hers, soft as a feather. “And you were looking for me on the sea? Unlikely, but I appreciate the effort.” He chuckled for a second, and then went back to his worried voice. “I am here now. Will you tell me what is that troubles you? You look as if you just had a nightmare.”

That wasn’t unusual. More than once Cardan had woken her up from some bad dreams, usually ones in which he didn’t return after Jude cut off the snake’s head. It always left her pale and shaky. Sometimes it happened the other way around, but they always found comfort in each other’s arms.

She bit her lip and took a deep breath. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate being called a nightmare, even if she usually is.”

He gave her a wide grin before furrowing his brow in confusion. “Funny, I was just with her right…ah.” Realization crossed his eyes, Jude watched him clench his jaw. “You went to my mother’s chambers. You heard us.”

Jude nodded and held his hand tighter. “I heard some of it. Many of the folk will always find me to be inadequate, that’s nothing new. But I hadn’t heard any mention of it in so long that, for a moment I, I let myself believe that-“

“Jude, stop, you cannot possibly think you are not good enough. Look at what you have done for Elfhame; anyone could see that!”

“That’s not it. I know I have done things for them, saving some of their asses and stuff.” She shrugged.

“Then I am not understanding, Jude-“ With his free hand he reached for her cheek and cupped it, tugging her into a hug.

“I’m pregnant.” Her voice was almost a whisper, but she felt him froze.

Without letting go of her, he leaned back, wide eyed and openmouthed. “What did you just say?”

“Cardan I’m,” She closed her eyes and said louder, “I’m pregnant.”

She didn’t open her eyes, afraid to see his reaction. But instead of saying anything he just gasped and pulled her back into his arms. Jude felt his heart beating fast against her hands.

“When did you find out?”

Now it was Jude’s time to chuckle. “Yesterday, even though I was feeling odd for the past days. Oak invited me a pizza but it made me sick, Vivi guessed the rest and I took some tests.”

Cardan didn’t say anything letting her continue. “When I came back I looked for you to tell you, mostly because if I didn’t right away I would be too scared to do it after. But…”

“But you found me with my mother,” He sighed. “And what she said…gods, Jude I am so sorry. I ought to throw her back to the Tower of Forgetting.”

She couldn’t say the thought was not appealing.

“Every day of my life since I got here I was reminded of how I was different. Sometimes in the cruelest ways.” Cardan started to say something but she continued. “I am over it now, I know who I am, and I am happy with it. With you. But the thought of my own blood going through the same thing is… I am afraid of it being as hard as it was for me. I am afraid of not knowing how to make it different. Of not knowing how to be a mother. And most of all, I am afraid of not knowing how you feel about this.”

There. She’d said it. She felt herself shake, but it wasn’t until a few seconds had passed, that she realized it wasn’t her. “Cardan?”

He let go of the embrace but raised his hands to cup her face. His eyes were shimmering… and wet. He was smiling in a way she’d rarely seen, leaving her breathless for a moment.

A tear escaped his right eye and Jude quickly caught it with her thumb, still puzzled about what she was seeing.

“My love, I feel nothing but happiness at this moment.” He kissed her forehead. “I know we usually joke about this but, one part of me always wished for it to became true one day. To love and raise as we weren’t. Giving us the chance to become better than the ones who should have taken care of us.”

Jude didn’t realize she had started to cry too until he kissed her cheeks and felt them cold. Cardan looked down at her belly hesitantly, “Can I?” He asked.

She nodded and pulled his hand to where someday she was going to be the size of a watermelon. He touched her with such delicacy and devotion she almost couldn’t believe this was happening.

“We are going to have a baby.” It seemed as if he said it in order to really believe it.

“We are going to have a baby” She repeated. Beaming with emotion. “I don’t know about you but, I think the first one who should hear the good news is Asha, hopefully she’ll have a heart attack and let us be.”

Cardan laughed and shook his head. “You are insufferable, my sweet villain. But this time, I am afraid I agree with you.” At that, he took her hand and guided her back inside.

Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn’t be afraid at all.

#jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #holly black #tcp #twk #qon #jurdan au #jurdan fanfiction #pregnancy au

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soysaucecas · 3 years

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oooh for the ask game 24, 30, and 44!

MAGPIE MY BELOVED HELLO

24. What are your favorite episodes?

The only episodes I've really watched are TMWWBK (which is my favorite episode and I'm certain would still be my favorite if I watched every single one because it has the only SPN character and the only SPN line), The French Mistake (which was funny enough but honestly in the Just Okay category for me, which makes me pretty sure I wouldn't enjoy actually watching SPN if this is one of the funniest/highest-rated eps), and Reading Is Fundamental (my best friend was watching it and asked me if I wanted to hop on Discord, I thought it might be fun to see Kevin's first introduction but instead this ep found the two of us taking like 90 minutes to get through it bc we kept pausing and screaming (derogatory) as the model minority stereotype jokes piled up and up and up... Unfortunately not a favorite even if we got Meg AND the "pull my finger" joke AND the "Sorry" shot). Other than TMWWBK, from clipping and transcript-reading, I like Wayward Sisters (who doesn't?), The Things We Left Behind (Claire!!!! Cas trying to be a dad! The diner scene aka my favorite destiel scene of all time bc being in love just looks so good on Cas! Also the parallels between Claire and Randy and teen Dean and the adults at that club in his story... woof.), Golden Time (Eileen gets to be HERE and be sad and loved and fight people with ghost powers and Cas gets to do a cool speech and a stabbing and do the Asian community a favor), and Lucifer Rising (just immensely sexy on all counts for Ruby, Sam, Cas, and myself). Also I am SO fond of Steve!Cas so I'll add Heaven Can't Wait even if I barely know anything about it.

30. What is an unpopular opinion or headcanon you have about the show?

Ooh okay hm I think. So I adore confession scene, but I don't think the "I cared about the whole world because of you" is like. The Objective Truth the way that most bloggers seem to take it. Cas was lobotomized tons of times before he met Dean, he was described as coming off the line with a crack in his chassis, he's always been the weird little angel who likes humanity too much! I don't think Dean came first, and although gay love was part of what helped Cas invent free will, he *Ruby voice* didn't need the feather to fly, Dumbo! I do think Cas believes what he says in the moment, but I also think he sorta... made himself believe it? This is probably just me deciding that cas-coding should go both ways, but like. I very much crush as a coping mechanism and I very much overascribe my actions to love because it simply seems more noble/poetic to do so. Being miserable because school is hard is cringefail but being miserable because of unrequited love is Good Shit. And I have been in unrequited love with my best friend for at least 7 years (probably 9 but I didn't realize it earlier) and if you asked I would 100% say that she taught me love and defined love for me and that she will be my first and last, but I also know that that is not entirely true; it's just the narrative that I like for myself. And I think that being in an Empty deal contingent on whether or not he LETS himself feel happy would lead Cas to do plenty of mental maneuvering, which I think involved intentional self-poor-little-meow-meow-ification via overascribing his choices and happiness to Dean (and I also think he'd already been doing that for a while just because of personal self-worth issues and because it's a nice narrative). I know as Cas's last Moment on the show it was probably written to be The Objective Truth, but I am perceiving him and I say no.

44. If you could write an episode of Supernatural, what would happen?

Oh scream okay! This is a fun one! I am going to start out with two ideas from other people:

1. Months ago Nate from the pocnatural discord had the idea of an episode from the "monster"'s perspective where the Winchesters are just clearly the antagonists while not doing anything different than they usually do. I think the idea was that all these supernatural beings live in a self-regulating community together and we have one Very Likable pov character who's a member of this community, but one of the newer members messes up one day and kills someone and the Winchesters come on a case and wreak havoc on this Very Much Functioning (there was going to be a whole rehab and reparations thing for the new member who messed up!) system and kill pov character and in the end you just HATE Sam and Dean for it.

2. It's hard to adapt anything from bad moon rising (aka my favorite spn fic) very well because the point of an Arab Winchesters season 1 rewrite is that it doesn't really work with the white characters we have now, but I think I could see a version of chapter 2 adapted as long as Haley (an Ojibwe hunter who lives in the area affected by what Sam and Dean are hunting) takes the lead. I'd especially like to see this section:

Dean laughs, a little disbelievingly. The question has never crossed his mind. “Do you like it?”

This gives Haley no pause at all. “Yeah,” she says. “I mean, it’s not really about killing monsters, though, for me. Or, it’s not always about killing monsters. It’s about community. Not violence. It’s a spiritual thing to build a home, you know?”

“Oh,” Dean says. He can’t think of anything else to say. It has never crossed his mind before that hunting could be compatible with a community.

I don't have any original episode ideas to add to the hunting discourse, so we're on to my ideas about character-driven eps. I think I would like to see a version of my sastiel possession fic (ty again for beta-ing that! you're a real one) as an ep around the time of 9.11 because Sam deserves to work through their trauma, but idk what the Dean plot should be for that. Another thing I would like very much is TFW drunk history storytime (so like. Tall Tales bass boosted), where for some reason they all need to go over what they were doing during Stanford era but each of them is telling someone else's story. It's gonna be either Sam->Dean->Cas->Sam or Dean->Sam->Cas->Dean. It starts out very funny (they all have terrible wigs and makeup in the flashbacks. Cas is Jimmy wearing a giant mask with googly eyes on it.) but as it goes on it gets increasingly sad how much these three don't really know each other.

In the Sam->Dean->Cas->Sam episode, Sam's telling of Dean's past veers wildly between "crushing pussy and killing things" and "feels like absolute shit all the time" and it's funny but Not Right and afterwards Dean goes "I didn't know you thought of me that way" and Sam says "... I am basically reading off the voicemails you left me back then" and Dean has to sit there and contend with the mythology he himself wrote for Sam to believe in. Dean->Cas provides the comedic beats for the episode as Dean awkwardly narrates Cas's Life As A Weird Little Guy who watches trees grow and heals babies and in the end Dean goes "so how did I do" and Cas is like "well actually I was either getting lobotomized or murdering people so like 3/10?" The moral of this plot line is that Dean is bi. Cas gives a fairly faithful retelling of Sam living her trans little life at Stanford and veering between trying to be Normal and being a total weirdgirl and feeling guilty and angry and happy and free. It becomes clear that Cas admires Sam a lot (but also feels like. guilt and some self-recrimination for not being that) for rebelling from their dad and exploring their queerness during a time Cas was still to his knowledge in total soldier mode, and Sam is having an a_good_soldier's Thesis 5 moment about how she failed the kid she used to be and how very sorry they are about all the things that happened to them, and Dean hates that this is the first he's hearing about so much of this but is also quite emo about the parts where Sam is struggling. The ep ends with them all in the same room not looking at each other and not knowing if they want to group hug or never talk again.

Dean->Sam->Cas episode is similar but the storytelling dissolves a lot faster as it becomes clearer way faster how much their own emotions are getting in the way. Dean is upset that Sam could leave their family so easily and probably swing a normal life, Sam keeps wondering what it would be like to live millennia just KNOWING that you were right and good and clean, and Cas is gay and veering between fitting Dean's life into a larger Righteous Man narrative and just being very tender (and sad and angry) about Dean's pain. Episode ends in a rather cathartic shouting match where they all end up apologizing to each other for many things.

Oh also I would like to see Cassie again but I don't have an episode in mind there. Also would love to see Kaia adjusting to life in Sioux Falls and befriending the others and dealing with Bad Place trauma.

tysm for the questions sorry for taking so long!

(ask game)

#ask #long post

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bakatenshii · 4 years

Text

Shouto x Marquie HCs

It’s 00:48AM here so technically it is no longer your birthday, but let’s just pretend it is because it’s the 17th in some time zone okay.

I wish I could say I came up with this concept all by myself, but my other ovary @theygottheircages actually did, so you could say she co-wrote this. Anyways, don’t kill me for the first few bits, I promise it’ll get better! Happy birthday my love, my ray of sunshine @mindninjax you deserve all the love in the world.

Shouto Todoroki was never brought up like most children; childhoods filled with laughter and friends, aimless ambitions and whatnot.

He never had any experience interacting with others his age, or anyone really in general. Which brings us to:

Bullet point 1: Shouto Todoroki does not understand social cues.

Shouto Todoroki is a loser

It’s almost painful for us to see him stumble into conflicts in conversations he has no part of being in. (It provides some good entertainment, though)

But Shouto being Shouto, glorified hotter version of Zuko (I SAID WHAT I SAID), still has girls throwing themselves at his feet. No one is surprised. (Except maybe M*neta)

But Shouto also being Shouto means he has no fucking clue about how to treat a girl.

This boy can barely read the room, you think he can understand women? Madness

So as per, after Shouto’s third dumping, everyone came up with a game:

A bet; How long before Shouto gets broken up with this time?

Is it mean? Maybe a lil. But is it funny? It sure fucking is.

He doesn’t get it. Shouto? Cue the confused math lady meme.

He just doesn’t understand why these girls pursue him for weeks, spill their loves out to him, to... break up with him a week later? r/woosh

Anyways, the most recent break-up had him more confused than usual. The girl had said something along the usual lines of, ‘you just don’t get me, do you even like me?’, but then there was a comment slid in there about how she’d found another man who’d treat her better.

Another man? So she didn’t like him while they were dating?

Bullet point 2: Shouto Todoroki did not ask to be cucked.

Up til now, yall are probably like, this is just Shouto slander! Angel, where is protagonist!! We didn’t sign up for this!!! (Except you did, welcome to my blog where I make the rules hehe)

And for this crack headcanon, we throwin’ in a lil twist. In this headcanon, the hero’s not gonna save our protagonist. Our protagonist saves our hero.

Enter: Marquie

Well, technically, Marquie is exiting the building (Angel shut up you’re not funny) of her work when she spots a suspicious young man...

setting fire. To what? fuck knows.

But there’s the distinct flare of flames that are lighting up the alleyway (yes! another alleyway!! sue me!!!)

and Marquie? Nah, she’s not having that. How dare someone commit arson, do they know how environmentally damaging that is? God

She marches up to the man, already preparing the script to tell him off:

“What are you doing? We can’t afford more pollution, not in this city—“

He turns around and she comes face to face with...

a Zuko cosplayer.

With duo-coloured eyes and duo-coloured hair.

It’s all a lil ridiculous because who the hell dyes their hair that colour, but also more concerning is that he’s setting fire to what looks like the iceberg that sank the Titanic.

(cue a tomato being thrown on stage because that’s positively the worst joke I’ve made up to date)

He just stares at her though, because frankly, he’s a lil slow.

No, but genuinely the screws in his brain’s just turning tryna figure out why this woman’s just coming at him before—

oh.

and he proceeds to deadpan an explanation about being a hero and his quirk that frankly is a bit too convenient but he’s cute and Marquie’s a bit of a sucker for cute boys so.

Marquie!! do we need a bit of background info? Well I’m about to spoonfeed it to yall anyways.

Marquie is the human embodiment of a ray of sunshine, can make conversation with just about anyone, and honestly, you just subconsciously get whirled into it. Caught up in her flow and whatnot.

Which is precisely what happens, and yeah sure, Shouto’s not giving her much to work with, bc since when was he the talker of the century?

He’s still got the same expression on his face, but he’s enjoying it. He swears, can you not tell?

For once, he doesn’t feel as if the girl’s expecting anything out of him, doesn’t feel pressured to fulfill her image of him, whatever that is. He hasn’t even figured it out himself.

She’s so excited, as she always is. Soon as she realized he wasn’t harming the environment, in fact, staying behind to clean up his mess, he was in her good books.

And a hero? Mate, she’s got a list of questions the length of that Spongebob meme. You know the one. (no, not the ‘The’ one.)

It happens naturally, they’re just going with the flow. He’s still not giving out much input, but she’s more than content with whatever singular-word answer he gives.

It’s fun, and cute, blah blah, their personality just meshes, you know?

They’re grabbing food together because Marquie’s just got off work, and he’s off patrol, and honestly, why the fuck not.

The story’s gotta progress somehow, init.

And the story progresses like this:

They start spending more time together, because the area he patrols just happens to be where she works.

(God! Angel pulling the strings of fate once again.)

He’s frankly surprised she’s not gotten bored of him, or been offended he seemed so ‘disinterested’ (even though he doesn’t think so, it’s just his face, probably)

She’s happy with him just the way he is, he’s good company, although Marquie could make anyone good company. She’s just that likeable.

She knows how to have a good time, and if she has a good time? You can’t help but also have a good time.

I knooow the motto of my blog is ‘fuck a slow burn’ but man, you want me to write fast burn Shouto? (I didn’t make a pun, everyone thank me for that.)

He’s surprised, you know? Never has a girl just spoken to him so casually, without any traces of ulterior motives (not that he could’ve picked any up, what even are social cues?) and somehow, she’s always managed to know what he’s feeling.

She says something like— I can tell by the expression on your face, it’s pretty obvious— to which we reply:

No, Marquie. That’s just you. Shouto’s got a total of 2 distinguishable expressions and it’s when he sees Endeavor and when he doesn’t.

So yeah, whatever, we all know where this is going. He’s blushing more around her, finding himself wanting to see her more and, what do you know.

Bullet point 3: Shouto Todoroki’s got a crush.

Not that he knows what that is. But Marquie sure does, so instead of the guy taking the lead (because fuck gender roles!! yeah!) she makes the first move.

And when she tells him he’s an idiot for not realizing, we’re all snorting because— now you realize he’s an idiot?

Yeah he’s an idiot, but he’s her idiot, you know?

(GAG, VOMIT)

And maybe he’s googling for the first time: Where to take a girl out on the first date? What to buy a girl for her birthday?

He can’t for the life of him figure out why he doesn’t want to fuck this up this time, but it’s okay baby, we’re all patiently waiting for you to grow up. It’s okay. (It’s kinda endearing)

And that leads us to our final point:

Bullet point 4: Shouto Todoroki will never be cucked again. Marquie has saved him from the cucking, congratulations.

You heard it here first: Cuck Wars 2020 has been ended by Marquie.

tags: @enjifuckersupreme , @theygottheircages , @yukiimanic , @lookslikeleese , @rat-suki , @baku-no-alt , @blahkugo , @sanguinekeigo , @pomsuki , @zahrashallucinations , @saratour , @red-riot-girl642

#CUCK WARS 2020 #THIS IS CANON #DONT FIGHT ME #I hope I tagged everyone!!!!#everyone enjoy this bit of pure unadulterated crack #i hope shouto isnt ooc #SHOUTO STANS DONT COME FOR ME #I LOVE HIM TOO OK #hes just a lil slow #BUT THATS OKAY!!!#matchup hcs #here we go lads

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theskyexists · 4 years

Text

ive bought harrow the ninth and am now attempting to reread act 1 so that i may understand it better

ianthe clearly proposes that Harrow not get herself killed trying to bring Gideon back - reading it over again. instead to take the future and somehow?? be really powerful together and forget about their cavaliers. but harrow says no

im once again struck with how offhand this book introduces the concept that the empire goes out to deliberately kill planets over a couple of generations

now im not sure....there also seems to be an implication that there’s no aliens - because they say only humanity has a soul - but client planets were said to rebel - i guess the human colonisers rebel against central solar system command sometimes? but then what enemy does the Cohort fight? possibly it’s just bigotry that they think aliens dont have a soul

but like - they find LIVING PLANETS and then - kill them slowly. to the extent that they need to move the entire population. WHAT? why do they do that??? just so they can do some bone tricks???!

what the fuk

so how did the planets get murdered again? and which solar system planets could really have been said to have had enough life to have a soul?? cos like, only one of them is really known for that

why did God give Harrow the choice to go back home TWICE if he was never going to let her?

once again, why mess with the Hand candidates if God was always gonna come for Cytherea? just to mess with him more?

yeah - harrow keeps hearing and saying ortus ninegad but the rest of the world remembers gideon.

Harrow truly is totally mentally shattered AND time is totally fucked up

but sometimes in the fake-ish timeline Harrow remembers but doesn’t remember Gideon - like how she notes that there were two womb-bearing members of the Ninth who were the right age...but only elaborates on herself

for some reason - Harrowhark remembers Ianthe’s arm ripped from her by Cytherea - but now it’s whole. for some reason

that letter is still so what the fuck

‘like you did the last time’ - hm harrowhark sewed Ianthe’s lips shut? how did she come by the power?

is ianthe - calling Harrowhark God?

throughout the first act, they keep referring to time, having too much time, or not mastering time, or not having enough time, ‘this time’ etc.

the eggs you gave me all died - that’s DIRECTED at Harrow, is my theory

ok but the planet revenants come after Lyctors and also God (- God became God when? at the Resurrection) before the Lyctors happened - God was still at Canaan House - despite the Revenants already coming right...

is Teacher criticising god and lyctors for leaving Canaan House lol?

ok so yeah Canaan House WAS part of a ‘last sacrifice’

ok so - Harrowhark is a little resurrection miracle. This implies that God killed a lot to resurrect the Houses.

wow God is being a very dad to Harrow

Blood of Eden - BOE - they turned their back on the solar system. now they hate necromancy. in other words - when the solar system died, God resurrected it - but before that point some humans had fled - lived. and they can see what absolute fuckin horror necromancy is ACTUALLY

so what im getting is...maybe...god resurrected humanity by killing the planets...?

i just realised that Ianthe has taken Gideon’s place as the smartass in the room - the counterweight to Harrow’s portentousness

what the fuck do augustine’s comments to Mercy mean???? why is she unloveable? why would he say that God doesn’t need her? and why is it obscene that Augstine calls God John? What is the dangerous game she’s playing? What was the foul implication??

‘Then that is your downfall’ OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Harrow BURN!!!

what i don’t get is - the Cohort is an army - when they land they die because they’re being killed by an enemy at the front - NOT in pure sacrifice for thanergy. so why does only the death of humans and planets produce thanergy. why is the death of the enemy not good enough? they don’t have fuckin souls?? they MUST be complex life. and doesn’t a planet produce a constant stream of thanergy? but i guess it’s not dying enough - generally its life maintains itself in ecosystems.....unless a fuckin lyctor ‘makes the juice flow’ i guess!

sometime in the next book there IS gonna be a ‘are we the baddies’ meme. muir loves memes and she stuck skulls on absolutely EVERYTHIGN. Like WHY THE FUCK would you colonise planets if you gotta kill them for it? LOL????

huh? augustine just said that they can’t use necromancy when in the river - but mercy mocked harrow for having hypothermia ? implying her fundamental failure was not being able to necro while in the river? Harrow’s inability was what was wrong partly right?? oh no ok it’s how Harrow tried to compensate for her body going lights out while in the river. alright. that was written confusingly

how and why is this a completely different story???

The Sleeper.......is Harrowhark? the suit is too close to what she was wearing killing the asteroid. and the sleeper is lying on ‘something’. oh they just straight up say it lololol

ortus got into trouble 19 years ago...hhmmmmm wasn’t Gideon 19??? huh? which is why Mercy started at Harrow’s peculiar YELLOW eyes that Harrow can’t see herself i think

‘i do things face to face’ ortus says after stabbing harrow. HUH? why go for a stab if decapitating would have done the job? just to give her a small chance to fight back? (face to face?)

why not tell God that ‘his’ attack dog is trying to kill you?

why does Ortus the First want me dead? ‘who?’ ---uh. has she forgotten him completely (time shit) or is she saying the wrong name? mercy wouldnt reply like that then right?

she told him and he’s like - oh well guess you gotta just get through repeated almost-successful attacks on your life. ???? THANKS GOD!!!

‘you, with your unfortunate memory for poetry’ HA! i love how we are reminded that she knew all the fuckin damn books nearly by heart which is insane!

Teacher suggests his dying at least three times a day?? hahaha what?.........................is this purely a meme reference. is that meme the mental image im supposed to have of Teacher??????????? is this trying to say that this meme was preserved in the amalgamation of human life that is Teacher?? oh my god....

no.....palamedus and camilla....did old Harrow really kill them.....

seems like all the murders were consensual maybe?

it’s probably too straightforward that Harrow created and alternate timeline and made for a Harrow Lyctor without Gideon dying and kicked her to the original? maybe she took Ianthe and Coronabeth with her bc she needed Ianthe’s help

is this Cytherea or Dulcinea? Pro seems real this time. why does Dulcie call Pal and Cam strands and cords?

did muir put in a fuckin secondary school S - muir’s just like - im gonna put in all the memes as a nod to ancient human culture

still no idea what the messages are that Harrow is getting

This Harrow is so goddamn sick. I mean she was sick before, but at least she had Gideon. Really do feel that that helped her. now she didn’t have that -- AND she’s getting slapped with trauma another five times

if ortus can undo the thanergy of her own bone then why not simply crumble HARROW into dust? cos there’s a core of thanergy fusion in her that he can’t undo?

FLKJDFKLJSDLFSD fucking IANTHE ‘Wow! Not how I imagined this happening, at all.’ FUCKIN HELL

Harrow with her fucking fucked up dramatic inner monologues about weakness and Ianthe comes in with this shit. she really is doing Gideon proud here.

Did love Harrow’s musings about how only a truly idiotically obedient Cavalier would be the only one to keep to a vow of silence. HAH! nice one muir

‘have you taken the time to rest lately?’ asks God, YOUR FUCKING SAINT IS TRYING TO KILL HER IN THE FUCKING BATH YOU IDIOT AHAHAHAHA

JEZUS FUCKING CHRIST - try and be normal Harrow! try and make some soup and read a book! Harrow: *does and then hyperventilates hidden under her bed after 86 hours of zero sleep*

she was trying to remember what cutlery did. why is this so goddamn funny hahahaa. this book has ONLY been Harrow being in extreme states of misery ALL THE TIME both mentally and physically to the point of death

GOD IS HAPPY THAT SHE MADE SOUP AND DOESNT EVEN FUCKIN NOTICE SHE’S NOT SLEPT FOR A WEEK SOMEHOW THIS IS THE MOST HILARIOUS SHIT

thats what you fucking GET you piece of shit god! you push a prodigy teen to the brink and she fuckin explodes your lyctor and feeds you her fuckin marrow. maybe you shouldn’t have ignored her goddamn fucking understandable distress

SHE FUCKIN HITS HIM WITH THE FUCKIN TRUTH what an IDIOT of a God. he truly doesn’t understand mortality anymore huh

I LOVE HOW MERCYMORN CONTINUES TO MAKE HARROW YOUNGER IN HER HEAD AHAHAHAHAHAHA she’s only nine years old!!!hahahaha

naturally God focuses on how - wait- actually harrow is truly an INSANE necromancer - INSANE

still no idea what the fuck is going on in the not-past

aww. ianthe’s scent soothes harrow now. begrudgingly of course.

i thought this was gonna be lovely angsty harrow/gideon but naturally that did not happen

harrow is comfortable! first time in the whole book! one moment of comfort!!!

‘love my twin, also murder’ tridentarius pffjlfjdljf

‘how i crave your honeyed words’ hah

wow this scene sure is weirdly sexual with these similes lol ‘as though she had shyly undressed for you’ ok there Harrow you about to chop her arm off calm it probably sex repulsed thirsty teen

i do love how....there is this theme again that’s everybody underestimating the main character - who is actually a prodigy. Gideon had that with the sword and Harrow also has it with being a Lyctor now

it’s so telling that these Saints would rather be shits to these babies than help Ianthe grow a new fuckin arm

i dont see why Ianthe can’t work off this bone construct which is her own stuff and put some flesh on it since SHES A FLESH NECRO?

Ianthe that’s super gay

wow muir really never delivers on full gay does she??? i dont mind but i think it’s so striking hahaa

how are Harrow and Ianthe still hung up on the Saint of Duty? i mean, if they dont have him against the RB they’re dead anyway

why is the First going through rain and ice?

Harrow haunted? naawwww

i cant help but like mercymorn though - she cares. it’s soured ages ago but she cares.

awww Harrow needs Ianthe to sleep

Ianthe constantly poking Harrow for her prudishness is so goddamn funny.

‘It’s the type of energy i wish to take into my future’ AHAHAHAHAHAAH IANTHE MY GOD

‘i always forget you were an honest to go nun ... and six years old to boot if you listen to mercymorn’ HAHAHAHAHAHA

‘you look good enough that im proud of my handiwork but not so good that i’ll be consumed with lust and ravish you over the nut bowl’ fpdfjsdfkjsd this is what harrow means with crude japery and yet....

mercymorn has started to call harrow three years old. i will NEVER tire of this gag

all of the blood of eden stuff happened in the past 25 years??? god was on the erebos, but he also remembers ortus kicking the commander out of an airlock? that was in the last 25 years??

Ianthe‘s carressing the nape of Harrow’s neck. hmmhm

its honestly super weird if you think about it for more than 10 seconds that theyre talking about their cavaliers whom they murdered (im still not sure if all consensually) ten thousand years ago (!) and how hot they were that just seems.....fucked up

Harrow is like WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! basically all the time but especially now. yep well that was to be expected i guess lololol

Harrow being painfully frozenly fascinated by (god having) sex and deeply repulsed is very Harrow

oh nooooo well that was a perfect kiss between them really

the funny thing about Harrow is that though she is so completely fucked up - just like Gideon - she is fundamentally a helper.

why wouldn’t Harrow have thought of blood wards! she knew he could only bleed thanergy! it;s the first thing i thought - just use not bone wards then!

ortus thinks anastasia is in Harrow - which makes me think - why does he think that’s possible?

mercymorn now calls Harrow a two-year-old. i am waiting for embryonic genius

so did they use the river to get to the planets theyre killing?

Harrow feels the peace and pleasure of a stroll through nature that she has come to kill

oh my god - Harrow somehow saved Cam and Pal is still attached to the mortal plane!!

Harrow helps Cam risking herself entirely just like that. yknow as she does

i wonder if Pal has realised that Harrow is not who he remembers

i think he realised once he realised haz mat suit was Harrow also...

ianthe xo’d harrow.....lol

im sad that original harrow is definitely dead.... :( loved her. guess gideon’s not coming back either. not sure how the second adept survived. she didn’t survive in the original timeline either. but she was ‘killed’ in the other - just like coronabeth..so that means soemthing

this whole ‘flashback’ stuff to Canaan House is Harrow being in the River the whole time. the cold temperatures, the blood, the creatures theyre fishing from the sea that apparently abominations

after all, we’ve just learned about river bubbles and a haz!harrow that can change their parameters.

all the people ‘dead’ she’d not spoken to much or at all beforehand. like they’re NOT real, in the River. the only one not like that is Dyas...

the fact that the narrative keeps calling Dulcie, Dulcie means she’s really Dulcie.

there’s giant organs falling from the ceiling. this is definitely the river

they talk about time AGAIN

the Body is the devil who let herself be used to complete the work of Teacher and the Lyctors in his mythology....hmm. and when they realised the price (AFTER? the work was done?) they wanted her dead but he buried her....SHE allowed them to become Lyctors?? I still don’t understand why the heck that was necessary

the king is dead, long live the king. hmmmm

Harrow comes onto a hallucination of the devil who was her first crush with the voice of her parental figures and the eyes of a love interest she can no longer remember - which is actually not precisely a hallucination probably - and gets summarily rejected lol OUCH (the Body didn’t mean it that way ofc)

Harrow is so repressed on every single front but definitely sexually

I love Mercy

so there is death beyond death. does everybody go into the river and become a mad horrid ghost? like - is that everybody’s fate? how awful

ok so God DID resurrect the planets also. ? but like. then why are there resurrection beasts?

what does resurrection mean? and who killed the planets in the first place?

BECOMING NONE HOUSE, LEFT GRIEF

oh.....my god.

ARE YOU AND IANTHE BEING SAFE!!?!?!?! HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA

HIS BODYGUARD IS THE DEVIL??

so the destruction of Earth somehow made God? as though it was something that simply followed from it

A.L. was destroyed in the first assault? Of an RB

so the RB’s were happily running off in the other direction until they decided to fuck around and kill their mates to become immortal and powerful - then the RB’s turned around and came towards them - which meant leaving the planets God had resurrected forever.

what the fuck god??? hahahahaa

God always seems so likeable goddamn.

Harrow is such a dramatic bitch. Affection??? JUST KILL ME!!! KILL ME!! LET ME SMASH THE GLASS SO I CAN KNEEL IN IT AND BLEED ALL OVER THE FLOOR!!!!

Harrow goes into her fun kid's game of not dying to traps.

But she instantly calls him father. OH MY GOD

HE DOESNT BELIEVE HER!!!

'then that will be your downfall' - is what Harrow said to Augustine AND IT WILL BECOME TRUE FOR THEM ALL

to be dismissed like that where it hurts most - to have God Dad dismiss her only slip of comfort her only pillar of truth in this crazy old world

'nobody had watched you leave'

SOMEBODY HAD - I love all the deliberate references to Gideon

Temporal lobe!!!! Again the temporal lobe!!!

So why was it again that Harrow refused to be locked in with the Emperor?

So isn't God gonna check out Harrow's temporal lobe? He's just gonna let that mystery go to its death?

WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKK

Muir what the fuck??!!!!!!!!

Oh it was.....a hallucination?

Always love how this dips into genuine horror sometimes

What's weird is that Lyctors seem made for the task of going into the river and killing Resurrection Beasts - instead of the other way around.

So say - that the sword somehow holds Gideon's soul (we've just learned that that's possible from Pal and also Ortus trying to get Pent to summon his grandma by his sword) - does it not make sense that Harrow 'for some reason' stabbing Cytherea's corpse with it transferred it to her? Or maybe it's SOMEHOW Anastasia if Ortus was macking on her. But Ortus thought HARROW had/was Anastasia.

IANTHE WANTS TO MARRY HARROW - HAHAHAHAAHAHAHA

Every fucking chapter doesn't make things any clearer. This is worse than Gideon the ninth

Hello???? Am I reading a canon alternate universe roleswap au??? What the FUCK is going on. This is like - if they hadn't gassed the 200 and her parents instead adopted Gideon for her clear necromantic gifts which nobody noticed somehow the other time round

I do love how Aiglamene was the sole source of slight comfort in Gideon's life. And Crux was Harrow's - apparently in any sequence of events.

Harrow is tumbling through timelines. But how can you do that just by messing with the lobe?

WHAT!! WHAT!!!

Is this...is this what I think it is??? Is thi

The fanfic roots are STRONG in this one. In fact I believe I've READ this fanfiction

Harrow's temporal fever dream (in the river?) HAD HER (Decidedly Not) VYING FOR 'HER DIVINE HIGHNESS' hand, which is either the Body or Gideon or both lololol. Seeing as the previous had Gideon as the main unnamed titled character - I bet it's Gideon ahahaaga

A fucking. COFFEESHOP AU. OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDD

We've had roleswap, 'ball' au, and coffee shop au populated by the ghosts of the dead LOLOL,

I knew it!! I knew that they were ghosts and that they were in the river!!

Ok so but when did Harrow shoddily create the bubble? When she adjusted her memories at the start? When is this. Ah Harrow has the same thought hahaa

So the stage is a - she was building her memories while sleeping?

Why is that she cannot access her lyctorhood like this...

I just realised that Harrow's mind made the party food taste like SALT based on Ianthe's cooking!!!! Hahahaha

THE NARRATOR IS GIDEON. But it doesn't sound like Gideon though

There's more to the work than simply preserving Gideon's soul though. There are next steps that Harrow prepared for that Harrow doesn't know about yet

Who was the sleeper and why was it in Harrows riverscape of memories that she ACCIDENTALLY??? made

Ok she sounds like Gideon NOW

Gideon no it's not because she didn't want you! It's because she wanted you to live!!!!!

And she succeeded....your soul is INTACT in her body!!!! You're protecting her with full consciousness!! How the fuck. And why didn't that happen before when she went to the bubble?

Are the ghosts of the contestants happy that they got pulled out of the River briefly? Or were they so briefly in there they couldn't remember?

She returned them to the RIVER???? is that really such a kind fate????

Something has gone wrong in the River - yeah because why r all these ghosts going insane and stoppering it up like slib

Do love how Muir has found a way to give these characters more screentime

I actually said 'oof' when Harrow screamed at Ortus - oof that really is embarrassing. GodDAMN Ortus you stepping up with the emotional support!

I've EVEN read the damn fanfic in which they switched bodies. My god.

A. L. apparently is thought to wander about still. I think she's the body....I do believe she's the body. That's why the Lyctors are scared of her

She thought - what. Mercy is talking about blood of Eden's commander. What is going onnnnn still!!!! Mercy is the traitor I guess. But how is blood of Eden connected to the ninth house and the body?

Why is Mercy awake on the mithraeum and not in the River anyways?

Gideon.... And the commander were in cahoots? So did A. L. and Anastasia an the body and the commander all have the same eyes?????

What the fuck is going on indeed.

Cytherea seems to have had a plan B for getting revenge on the Emperor. Or something had a plan B with her corpse as the main weapon.

If guns are so effective against people why aren't they still used.

The messages are from the commander. I.e. Gideon's mother. I.e. Anastasia? We never explicitly did learn how she met her end no? Gideon was convinced that Anastasia had taken the baby. It just seems incongruous how the Emperor spent like 80 years on the Erebos and the Lyctors were faffing about - meanwhile there was this drama going on in the last half century?

I love Abigail Pent. Love that I got to see more of her.

I'd honestly forgot that Judith was alive by the end of all of that shit

The sleeper is -the sleeper is Gideon's mother. Also. She's haunted by her mother. SOMEHOW. what the fuck? They couldn't drag her spirit back from the river they said!

'you wizards never learn' there's a whole modern regular sci fi world and culture out there! Or maybe it's just a. L.

Is it? Or is it Anastasia? Or is it the commander? Or are they the same thing?

The sleeper wants Harrow's body. Somehow invaded it - probably from the river? - which means its Anastasia or the commander. Which means that whatevers possessing Cytherea is someone else.

In retrospect - Harrow's coldness to Ianthe talking about - to what her - seemed nonsense at the time - in the very first part - doesn't quite fit.

Oh my fucking GOD Gideon is fighting Ianthe for messing around with her fucking girlfriend - who is HARROW, who actually, Ianthe wants to marry.

They just went from ramping up to a serious fight to Gideon dropping Corona's name and suddenly they're like - ah we got more important priorities actually.

Augustine's first thought at thinking a.l./the body (?) is in Harrow is John - and the Second is Joy!(mercy?)

'How I was gonna have to take showers with all your clothes on.' fuckin Gideon hahahaha

Wonder if Ianthe truly believes what she's saying - that Harrow was trying to rid hersel of Gideon. It's preposterous. It's just hurtful talk.

GIDEON REALLY THOUGHT THAT LOOK TO MEAN THAT HARROW DIDNT LOVE HER??? THIS IS A CONSTANT BARRAGE OF ALL THE ANGSTY DRAMATIC SHIT IVE BEEN YEARNING FOR

Oh my fucking god Gideon calling Ianthe out for being in love with Harrow in the most iconic way ufsojdjdodnd 'she wants the D - the D stands for dead'

Crazy brain-mutilated Harrow sure made it seem that way I can tell ya that!!

Hahahahahaha Ianthe remembering Harrows prudish Ortus/Cytherea shit. Amazing

Aw Gideon really went and fell right into the cavalier/bone mistress shit huh. And trying to shield Harrow - well as noted before - very necessary because harrow has been having a godawful miserable time - mostly because of herself.

Gideon appreciating Ianthe's pun xD

Love how neither of them position themselves as the love of Harrows life but instead as inexorably attached to her by the sheer role they play in her life - they don't dare aspire to what they think they can't get.

Muir realises this is gonna end up as a Gideon/Harrow(/theBody)/Ianthe ship right?

Oh WOW THIS IS AMAZING. nonius the legendary nonius!!! Come to protect Harrow!!!

For some reason the Sleeper can manipulate the rules of this River bubble and doesn't seem surprised about it

If all her cavaliers were this excited for death, she was definitely the problem.lololol. somehow Harrow, you inspired undying loyalty in even a person that you treated abominably

Yeah Harrow you slowpoke. If the Sleeper can adjust the rules - so can you

If the sleeper was not Harrow's invention - but planted itself - then they're very lucky it got to the ghosts that weren't actually there - first.

So it was the commander....a portrait in a shuttle of blood of eden - can only be the commander. And redhaired? There are too many red haired people in this book!!

It's nice how all these ghosts got to have lasting impact from beyond the grave

NONIUS KNEW ORTUS/GIDEON?

Ok so ....there's the bed of the River with stoma. But there might also be the other side.

Did Harrow really not account for steps beyond her plan to mutilate her brain?

Is this book really gonna go: fuck you Gideon will die anyway ?????

But.wait. the sleeper had a two-hander. Where did that go???

I don't get it. If they go into the river - won't they also go insane?

SO NYAH!!!!!???

Ok but - what? The Commander ALSO -somehow - took over Cytherea's body?

'did the ten billion give you that too' I KNEW CANAAN HOUSE HELD EVEN GRUESOMER EXPERIMENTS AND SACRIFICES THAN LYCTORHOOD. God is made of ten billion souls. I think they killed humanity on earth to spare it 'slow inexorable apocalypse' and used the power to make the Empire from the resurrected. There was an extremely vague implication by Teacher to the amount of souls violated in Canaan house in the first book.

So God knows the commander went for the ninth house? Firstly, how. I don't understand how Anastasia fits in here!!! It would explain though how the commander

So the commander found the ninth house - and she died right? They tried to call her spirit but couldn't. But she became a revenant?

Ah. God THREW the bomb.

A fuckin wake me up inside joke jskdjskdnd

So Mercy and Augustine ( not Gideon ?) had all turned against God? And they were working with the commander to -... Make a baby????? And then evacuate the houses???? (For when God dies - there being a risk that Dominicus would go out I guess)

Make a baby/body to lever the one who lies in the tomb into....?

Love how the book foreshadowed Mercy and Augustine manipulating and lying to God - and turns out they did that on much bigger scale

They....meant to kill the baby to break the blood ward?

'The woman who I was pretty sure was my mother, wearing the body of the woman I'd had a crush on, who in turn had been wearing the identity of a woman she'd murdered -' KSNFKDJDKFJJFC

So why did they want this consistently characterised as kindly and humane god dead?

GIDEON THOUGHT IT WAS HIS!!!! But he called Wake Anastasia then????

They really are the same???

Oh my god I know what they're gonna say. Gideon is the daughter of God. WHICH HARROWS FUCKIN ROYALTY AU FEVER RIVER DREAM FUCKING FORESHADOWED HAAHAHAHAHHAA

Isn't it fucking ironic that God told Harrow that - HE WANTED HER TO BE HIS??? WHILE GIDEON HIS ACTUAL DAUGHTER WAS SPINNING INSIDE HER CHEST LIKE A LITTLE NUCLEAR FUSION REACTOR

They've been trying to kill him for more than 500 years???? Did mercymorn actually genuinely learn the extremely fine knowledge of the body for THIS purpose? How many thousands of years ago did they decide to kill god?

A fucking DAD JOKE

GIDEON REMEMBERING HOW SHE USED TO TELL HARROW HOW HER OTHER PARENT MIGHT BE THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE WORLD SO STOP PICKING ON HER

I am fucking DELIGHTED I AM SO GODDAMN OVERJOYED

It segues into a reminder of how shit their childhoods were and how their suffering had them lash out at each other endlessly and how it made Harrow suicidal and shit though - which is great

ALECTO'S EYES. THE A. FOR A. L.

A. L. The cavalier of God....but she walked. She had a body.

Ohhhhh. That's why they betrayed him. That age-old hurt. Ten thousand years old but still the bane of their existence, the seed of their madnesses. The loss of their cavaliers. Oh how did they manage to keep that from him?

I honestly thought - is Mercy saying she knows he killed humanity? But that's not what she couldn't have forgiven?

But why did he hide it? Why did he hide the perfect way? ('it would be easier' why???)

Ah. Yes. The expansion, why would the Emperor do that?

Uhhhhh. Couldn't Mercy have done that all along??????????????????????? Couldn't Mercy have killed God all along? That was both a trick and utterly sincere.

Augustine and Mercy were trying to do the right thing..... Mercy.... :'( Augustine was right. God is much less sentimental than he seems.

'im not even mad that you failed to either fix or put down Harrow' hm guess the constant kill quest HAD come from God after all. What a goddamn bitch of a man

What was the original plan? Unleash a. L. ? And then what? How would that help with the whole Dominicus going out problem?

Had God ever really thought to make up for all the bullshit he put his Lyctors through. He seems so affable and human but he's caused so much suffering. He's as good at manipulation at them - better!

The resurrection beast can't kill him, but he let his Lyctors die to them one by one anyway. So why??

Why are they punching each other in the River? They can use theorems right? God could blast Augustine to pieces same he did mercy?

Yes! It's true! Pyrrha and Gideon both exist in the same body - foreshadowed by his cavaliers build. There was something so fishy about it.

I love how Gideon has exactly the same response as me: what the fuck. Pyrrha??? Gideon??? What the fuck??? Why did they BOTH have an affair with their enemy??? So ok. Pyrrha stayed underground from Everybody for the thousand years. SOMEHOW their compartmentalisation let her pop up in his body regularly and not just when Gideon remembered her - because the hadn't fucked up his brain. But then how did THEY do that.

This absolutely galactic balsiness

The stoma thinks John is a resurrection beast. Might it be.....because he's..... A revenant. A 10 billion souled kinda- revenant ? A bit like.....Harrow is? Which is why he felt kin to her? Which is why he compared her creation to Resurrection?????I've really gotta reread those messages from commander wake.

A fucking jail for mother meme. Jail for one thousand years. Gideon how do you know this one????

I KNEW Ianthe would do that. Knew it. She doesn't want the system to die. Coronabeth is still out there. Well guess what - she's on the opposite side babe. Ok I realised that Gideon's mum apparently stuck to Gideon and then the sword? But also did Harrow manage to break the blood ward because of of her proximity to Gideon? Did Harrow uhhhh get put into a pocket in the river? But the emperor wasn't murdered!!! Fuckin chapters kept lying. They're on a hold planet. Finally - we meet the people. Alecto and Camilla and Corona? And Judith.? Did Alecto somehow do a time twisty around to come save Gideon at that moment in the river? Once again nothing much more is clear.

#my stuff #harrow the ninth #gtn #ninth

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